№ №. |-№. - º º ſae | | | | . |- | -------------------------------- - - - N!!!!!!!! \!!Nº|||||I|E bºº *- TRANSPORTATION LIBRARY Transportation library AC 3. H | 3 # º º º # Z- º - # # # % º #% # #. § # ----- A DI) R. ESSES AND - º ºf º Tau- ºf CHARLES B. HADDOCK, D. D., PROFESSOR OF INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY AND POLITICAL ECONOMY IN DARTMOUTH COLLEGE. CAM BRIT) G E : M ET CAL F A ND COMPANY., PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 1846. APR 15 1927 & % § ºsmº Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by C H A R L E s B. H. A. D. Doc K, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of New Hampshire. TO M. Y. PU P I L S. THIS volume of my Addresses and Miscellaneous Writings, published at the suggestion of some of your own number, is presented to you with no pretension to any other merit than that of a memorial of an early º guide and companion in study, who has ventured . now and then beyond the scene of academic life to º contribute his mite in stimulating enterprise or im- º proving education in the community around him. | * It is now five-and-twenty years since I adopted the resolution never to refuse to attempt any thing, consistent with my professional duties, in the cause of learning or religion, which I might be invited to do. This resolution I have not at any time re- gretted ; and, perhaps I may say, I have not essen- tially violated it. However this may be, I have never suffered for want of something to do. And the work now offered to you is mainly a selection from the vi DE DI CAT I O N. numerous addresses which I have had occasion to deliver, on a considerable variety of subjects, but re- motely connected with my principal studies. If it answer the purpose of reviving pleasant mem- ories of college days and college friendships in my pupils, already constituting more than a third part of the whole number who have gone out from the bosom of our Alma Mater, I shall be quite satisfied, without any other mark of favor for a volume which seeks no higher or more public regard. DARTMoUTH Col.I.EGE, March 6, 1846. C O N T E N T S. PAGE Address delivered before the Vermont Medical College, at Wood- stock, June 8, 1842. . - - - - - - ... 3 Discourse delivered before the New England Society of the City of New York, December 22, 1841. - - - - . 26 The Patriot Citizen. An Address delivered at Lebanon, N. H., on Monday, the Fourth of July, 1842. . - - - . 54 Address delivered before the Railroad Convention at Lebanon, N. H., October 10, 1843. - - * - - - . 77 tº Address delivered before the Railroad Convention at Montpelier, Vermont, January 8, 1844. . - - - - - ... 105 Speech upon the Motion to accept the Annual Report of the New Hampshire Bible Society, at Lyme, September 7, 1825. . 146 Speech delivered at the Annual Meeting of the Vermont Bible Society, at Montpelier, October 18, 1826. - - - . 158 Objections to Charitable Education. Addressed to the New Hamp- shire Education Society, at Rindge, September 5, 1827. . 173 The Standard of Education for the Pulpit. Addressed to the New Hampshire Education Society, at Salisbury, September 2, 1828. 181 The Influence of Educated Mind. Addressed to the New Hamp- shire Education Society, at Newport, September 6, 1829. . 195 viii C O N T E N T S. --- Personal Qualifications for the Pulpit. Addressed to the New Hampshire Education Society, at Concord, September 7, 1831. Manual Labor Institutions. Addressed to the New Hampshire Education Society, at Keene, September 11, 1833. The Clergy the Natural Advisers of Young Men. Addressed to the New Hampshire Education Society, at Meredith Bridge, September 3, 1834. Unity of Pursuit in the Christian Ministry. From the Biblical Repository for July, 1836. Personal Piety in Candidates for the Christian Ministry. Addressed to the New Hampshire Education Society, at Claremont, Au- gust 24, 1837. Miscellaneous Reading. From the American Quarterly Register for February, 1838. Wisdom in Clergymen. Addressed to the New Hampshire Edu- cation Society, at Lyme, September 7, 1839. The Eloquence of the Pulpit as affected by Ministerial Character. Addressed to the New Hampshire Education Society, at Francestown, August 24, 1841. The Study of Sacred History. From the American Quarterly Observer for April, 1834. . - - - - - - The Connection of Moral with Intellectual Cultivation. From the Biblical Repository for January, 1837. Discourse delivered at Hanover, New Hampshire, May 7, 1841, on the Occasion of the Death of William Henry Harrison, late President of the United States. Eulogy on Daniel Oliver, LL.D., late Professor of the Theory and Practice of Physic, and of Intellectual Philosophy, in Dartmouth College, delivered in the College Chapel, in October, 1842. Discourse delivered before the Rhetorical Society in the Theological Seminary at Bangor, Maine, August 30, 1843. 207 . 220 . 237 . 249 . 268 . 280 . 300 . 314 329 . 363 . 400 . 425 . 440 C O N T E N T S . Speech in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, on the Motion before the House to cut down the Account of Dr. C. T. Jackson, the State Geologist, December 17, 1844. - Remarks in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, Decem- ber 18, 1844, on the Bill to commute the Sentence of W. F. Comings. Speech in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, Decem- ber, 1844, on the Resolutions instructing our Representatives in Congress to vote for the Occupation of Oregon, and the Annex- ation of Texas to the United States. Remarks in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, Decem- ber 17, 1844, on the Bill for the Appointment of a Commis- sioner of Common Schools. Remarks in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, June 18, 1844, on the Resolution appropriating Five Thousand Dollars to the Asylum for the Insane. Speech in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, June 25, 1845, on the Bill relative to representing Stock in certain Cases. . 472 . 478 . 483 . 491 . 496 501 Remarks in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, June 27, 1845, on the Bill to authorize Contiguous School-districts to associate together to establish and maintain High Schools. Speech in the New Hampshire House of Representatives, July 1, 1845, on the Bill providing for the Appointment of a Commis- sioner of Common Schools. Rural Ornament. An Address delivered before the Ornamental- Tree Society, at Hanover, May 7, 1844. Thoughts on Education. From the Bibliotheca Sacra and Theo- logical Review for February, 1845. . 556 . 511 . 516 . 528 A D D R E S S E S A ND A D D R E S S E S AND MISC EI, L.A.NEOUS WRITINGS. A D HD R E S S DELIVERED BEFORE THE VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE, AT WOODSTOCK, JUNE 8, 1842. PHILosophers have observed a certain relation- ship among the different branches of knowledge. A secret bond unites the most dissimilar and discon- nected truths, -a principle of union, by means of which the scattered fragments of thought are collected into a system. And it has been a favorite object of studious men thus to arrange our ideas, and exhibit their natural order and development. Such a unity in our thoughts must needs result from the unity of the thinking principle. It is the same eye that looks down into the bosom of the earth and upward to the skies; the same mind that peers through the loopholes of the senses upon the world without, and muses with maturer wonder on the world within. The science of matter and the science of mind, history and poetry, eloquence and art, all are but varied forms of one and the same soul of man ; all are human, children of one intellect; and carry, in their family likeness, marks of their common paternity. They are thus united and asso- 4. ADDRESS BEFORE THE ciated by affinities and resemblances, which belong to them as the natural products of human genius. There is, also, a necessary unity of knowledge re- sulting from the unity of its subjects. Nature is one. Her infinite varieties of form and structure and func- tion are developments of the same creative energy, and all sensibly and equally impressed with the fea- tures of the One Divine Mind. One God reigns in the earth, and the air, and the sea. The elements operate together for the same great ends, in perfect harmony. Matter, organized and unorganized, ani- mate and inanimate, in motion and at rest, near and remote, observes, so far as we can see, one uniform system of laws, and exhibits everywhere the same style of invention and adaptation. The principle which moulds the drops of dew, that glitter and dissolve in the morning sun, is the very same which draws the granite bands of the earth together; the law that gathers and unfolds and wreaths the clouds about the brow of night is precisely that which casts the forms and guides the motions of worlds. The insect, in its tiny limbs, its microscopic organs, its invisible points of sensibility, its ethereal and evanescent life, indicates, in every part, the design and the execution of the same hand which lays out the giant framework and weaves the iron sinews of the monarchs of the desert and the sea. Innumerable analogies between the material and the mental worlds betray the purposes and skill of a common God. There is no room to suspect the VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 5 agency of a second deity; no intimation, anywhere, as we pass from province to province in the kingdom of nature, that we are getting under the dominion of a new power, or the dispensations of a new provi- dence. The object of all science is also one, – the im- provement and elevation of human nature. And thought, directed to this common end, receives a unity of character from its unity of purpose. It is, therefore, natural and necessary, that the sciences which one and the same mind creates, con- cerning one and the same world, for one and the same end, should be bound together by intimate and visible relations and dependencies. In many instances, the connection is too palpable to escape the most careless observation; in all, it is real, and has engaged the notice of wise men of every age. This affiliation of the numerous branches of knowl- edge is far from being mere matter of curiosity. It is an instance of that beneficent general provision by which we so often realize a double reward of our labors. By the constitution of things, the public weal, for example, is then best secured, when individuals most wisely and successfully pursue their private ends; the appetites then minister most to enjoyment, when reason is obeyed; true happiness is realized, when duty is consulted. In like manner, it results from the mutual relations of the different branches of knowl- edge, that no one of them can be pursued far, with- out acquainting us more or less with all the rest. 6 ADDRESS BEFORE THE In the study of a particular department, we have often, at the outset, occasion for facts or principles not strictly within its proper sphere. As we advance, the points of contact with other branches become more numerous; new topics invite attention ; the sphere of inquiry is widened ; our general principles become more comprehensive; the illustrations more varied and more striking; and enthusiasm is fed by the discovery of new aspects of literary or moral interest. And thus, though it seems, at first view, a paradox, the true way to general knowledge is the ardent pursuit of particular studies; and the soundest general schol- ars are, not seldom, such as originally proposed to themselves the cultivation of some humble and narrow sphere of thought; just as the greatest farmers are apt to be those who, beginning with a hand’s breadth of land, have patiently drawn forth its latent riches, and, year by year, redeemed new roods from the forest and the marsh, until broad meadows wave with their harvests, and the distant hills are covered with their flocks. The student of natural philosophy, almost as mat- ter of course, becomes a student of mental philosophy. For the intellect, which with equal ease “inspects a mite ” and “comprehends the heaven,” is itself quite too remarkable to escape the scrutiny of minds already familiar with its triumphs in natural science. The knowledge of matter and of mind leads almost neces- sarily to the study of theology, the science of the origin and destiny of things; and to the study of º - VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 7 - taste and morals, the science of the sensibilities and obligations which connect us with the works of God and with God himself. These, in their turn, introduce geography, history, and government, the points of contact and sympathy with our fellow-men. And all connect themselves with romance, and poetry, and art, in which nature and life are represented by genius under new and more perfect forms. Even the ruder pursuits of life, when prosecuted with some intelligence, suggest delightful trains of thought, and invite to fields of curious and engrossing speculation. The plain man, of an inquisitive turn, with no other pretensions to knowledge than a tolerable insight into the mysteries of the English alphabet, feels induce- ments, not readily resisted by an active mind, to acquaint himself more perfectly with the different branches of natural knowledge. Astronomy had its earliest votaries among the shepherds of Chaldea; poetry, even of a refined character, has, for fifteen centuries, sweetened the toil of the Scottish moun- taineers; and music has cheered the patient Swiss amid the sterility of the unrelenting Alps. So natural, indeed, has it been for ardent minds to pass from field to field in the domain of letters, that the professors of particular departments have, in their enthusiasm, been tempted to extend their claims over the whole. The politician, the divine, the poet even, has fallen into the extravagance of the Roman orator, and set up the pretence, that the perfection of his art supposes the possession of universal knowl- edge and the ministry of all other arts. 8 ADDRESS BEFORE THE The liberal professions stand in a peculiar rela- tion to the whole circle of the sciences. As a natu- ral consequence, much of the best scholarship for which modern civilization is distinguished has been exhibited by the active members of the learned pro- fessions, by statesmen, lawyers, divines, and physi- cians. Not the universities, but the forum, the bar, the pulpit, and the noiseless, nameless sphere in which, Gentlemen, it is your pride to move, have produced the greater part of the noble works of learn- ing and taste which honor and nourish the human intellect. Physicians have done their full share in the gen- eral culture of the race. Letters and taste have found many of their brightest ornaments among the members of a profession distinguished above the rest for activity by day and vigilance by night. Hippoc- rates and Galen were scholars and philosophers, as well as physicians. Aristotle, the highest name, per- haps it must be admitted, on the roll of greatness, to whom belongs the singular honor of having led the human mind in the chains of a false philosophy a thousand years, and, when he could no longer retain his dominion, of having presented to its emancipated emergies the best example of the true method of inquiry, was educated for the medical profession. The names of Boerhaave and Blumenbach, Haller and Linnaeus, are embalmed in the literature of the con- tinent. Locke and Sir Thomas Browne, in the sev- enteenth century, and Goldsmith and Akenside, in VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 9 the eighteenth, honored English scholarship with their various learning. Sir Humphrey Davy and Dr. Ma- son Good, the one the principal ornament of natural science, and the other reputed the best read man of his time in Great Britain, adorned the profession in the early part of the present century. Sir Charles Bell has just closed a life distinguished alike for pro- fessional skill and liberal culture. Sir William Ham- ilton and Sir Henry Halford are living witnesses that the only one of the professions which rejects the aid of eloquence is fully equal to its sisters in the grace of letters and the dignity of science. Ramsay and Rush, in their day, gave a literary character to the profession among ourselves; and living scholars, not a few, amidst the din of coarser arts and the agitation of grosser elements, are now furnishing new illustra- tion, in the New World, that it was not without some color of reason that the poets of ancient Greece made the god of music and letters the god of phy- sie also, and traced the genealogy of Esculapius to Apollo. Over one illustrious name in our medical annals death has so recently drawn his gilding hand, that you would not excuse me for neglecting the occasion to pay to that name a tribute of marked respect. In every branch of medicine, in morals, in metaphysics, in the ancient and the principal modern languages, in history, criticism, and general literature, few men of our country and time have earned so enviable a reputation as DANIEL OLIVER, In the practice of the virtues, in the courtesies of cultivated 2 10 ADDRESS BEFORE THE life, in delicacy of feeling, in modesty of deportment, in honorable dealing, in regard for things sacred, and admiration of excellence, few men of any country or any time have deserved so unqualified praise. The disposition of medical men to indulge in gen- eral studies attracted the attention of Pope, and John- son, and Knox. And the strong terms in which they have expressed their sense of the intelligence, learn- ing, and dignity of sentiment, exhibited by the faculty, is particularly worthy of notice in the history of pro- ſessional character. A remark of Dr. Samuel Parr, on the same subject, I may be excused for quoting in his own words. “I have long been in the habit,” says he, “of reading on medical subjects; and the great advantage I have derived from this circumstance is, that I have found opportunities for conversation and friendship with a class of men whom, after a long and attentive survey of literary characters, I hold to be the most enlightened professional persons in the whole circle of human arts and sciences.” The medical profession holds intimate relations to many of the best reasoned, richest, and most improv- ing departments of study. And it has occurred to me, Gentlemen, that I might on this occasion be allowed to detain your attention a little upon those relations, and to illustrate somewhat more fully the unity of knowledge, of which I have already spoken, by discoursing upon the tendencies of medical studies and medical practice to introduce you to kindred departments of thought in the field of general learn- VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 11 ing. I trust you will bear in mind that I address myself more particularly to the candidates for the practice of physic. I have not the presumption to hope that any thing I may be able to say will have much interest to gentlemen who are already reaping the honors of liberal study in a liberal profession, and to whom better illustrations and ampler views have been long familiar. To the young gentlemen who are pursuing their preparatory studies here it may not be equally obvious, at first view, that they are in the elements of a profession which not only boasts of illustrious scholars in every department of learn- ing, but which naturally, and almost necessarily, leads its more enterprising and industrious followers beyond the routine of clinical practice, beyond even the most liberal circle of strictly medical science, into those general studies in which kindred and consent- ing minds are wont to meet and converse together, as upon the higher and healthier elevations of life. To men of a mean ambition, earthen men, it is of little use to unroll the map of liberal studies. They want the idea of truth; they lack the sentiment of professional dignity; they feel no aspirations for hon- orable distinction. But to generous minds, to men who have got above the ground, and begin to breathe the upper air, it is grateful to see that there are still loftier heights to climb and purer airs to breathe, that fresh fountains invite them and golden harvests wave at a distance. Such is the privilege, and such should be the spirit, of the student of medicine. Such, in 12 ADDRESS BEFORE THE an eminent degree, was the spirit of the distinguished man whose memory is so intimately associated with this institution. Denied, by the circumstances of his early life, the advantages of academic education, and, left chiefly to the impulse of his own enthusiasm and the direction of his own judgment in his professional studies and literary pursuits, he had to contend with obstacles which most of us never can learn to appre- ciate, and rose to distinction by efforts which few, in any age, have energy to exert. I knew him well; and was so much struck with nothing in his extraor- dinary character as with the compass of general knowl- edge which he had won time from a laborious prac- tice to acquire, and the ardor of literary curiosity which he would sacrifice any thing to indulge. The name of DAVID PALMER is itself delightful evidence how impossible it is for true professional enthusiasm either to fail of professional distinction or to be con- tent with mere professional distinction. The knowledge of disease implies the knowledge of health. At the very outset, therefore, in the study of this profession, the attention is engaged upon the structure and functions of the human body; the most curious and the most mysterious of subjects; the nearest to us, and yet the least understood of all material things; a part of ourselves, and yet separable from us; in itself nowise distinguishable from the inanimate matter which the foot treads upon, and yet informed with life in every part, instinct with intelligence ; fearfully and wonderfully made ; com- VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 13 prising, in the narrow compass of a few solid feet, more admirable mechanism, more varied adaptation, more delicacy of organization, more exquisite beauty, more distinct and eloquent demonstration of the di- vine wisdom and goodness, than the world besides. The very skin, which seems to most of us but a cov- ering for the man, has offices as wonderful as the atmosphere of the planets, and seems, besides, en- dowed with instincts that surpass the reason itself; being, as it were, inspired to anticipate the alterna- tions of the seasons and the changes of the sky, adapting itself, with a sort of prescience, to the com- ing heats of summer, or the inclemencies of winter, — to the balmy breath of morning, or the poisoned air of night. It is hard to say which is most remarkable, the ignorance that prevailed on the mechanism and opera- tions of our physical system, down to the Christian era, and even to the seventeenth century, in which the circulation of the blood and the offices of the nerves were discovered, or the indiscriminate decla- mation, even of educated men, since, upon the gross- ness and meanness of our animal, sensual life. The senses, - they are the most astonishing parts of na- ture. What can surpass in mystery the familiar act of vision, in which this little ball of painted hu- mors, as it turns at will in its socket, now traverses the cope of heaven and holds converse with the stars, and then gathers in its contemplations to concentrate them upon an insect’s wing or the petal of a flower? 14 ADDRESS BEFORE THE The eye, in fact, creates the blue arch above us, and spreads the colors upon the sky; paints the fields, and sets the rainbow in the clouds. There is no arch above, no color in the sky, no rainbow in the clouds. They are all the magic wonders of the eye itself. And then, the ear, - what is the power, which it pos- sesses, to work the waves of the air into music, and fill the world, which else had been silent evermore, with the sweet harmonies of nature and of man Nor is the touch less marvellous; alive, all over us, and, in the seemingly coarse and clumsy fingers’ ends, possessing a delicacy of perception, a minuteness of observation, an ethereal sensibility, of which the eye itself is incapable. Then there are the phenomena of life in the human body, so unconsciously produced that the well know not of their health; and the con- stant action of this complicated mechanism, all so quiet and noiseless as to be unthought of and unsus- pected till some accident disturbs or jars it. There is life itself, too, and death, –the moment when, amid smiles, we draw our first breath, and the dark hour of tears and stifled sighs in which we cease to breathe. From the study of our own frame and economy the transition is easy, and, indeed, almost necessary, to the anatomy and physiology of the other animated tribes that occupy the earth in common with us, and are organized for their several destinies upon the same general principles with ourselves. Chemistry and the numerous branches of natural history open a wide field, and full of interest. To all these de- VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE, 15 partments the student of medicine is strongly invited. Either for the purpose of illustration, in the study of the human animal, or for remedies for human disease and suffering, or, what may as often happen, for the gratification of tastes incidentally awakened in his appropriate pursuits, the physician, under the impulse of a liberal enthusiasm, is carried along the whole range of natural knowledge; the most tangible, the most varied, the most amusing of all knowledge; fitted at once to teach us respect for ourselves and a fraternal sympathy with every thing that lives, and to inspire us with profound veneration for the Author of nature, the great Benefactor of all his creatures. Thus the science of medicine holds intimate rela- tions to most of the physical sciences. And medical men are, in fact, among the most active in all the modern societies and institutions for the improvement of natural knowledge. The connection of medicine with mental and moral philosophy is no less intimate, and of far more general interest. The relation of the physical man to the spiritual principle, which dignifies the body, and will survive it, makes it a part of your duty, as well as an object of your curiosity, to pass from the anatomy of the mate- rial organs to the analysis of the mental constitution. There is an element in the subject of your imme- diate scrutiny which the keenest instruments cannot reach nor the sharpest eye discern. You trace it up the vital currents to the heart; you track it along the nerves to the brain; but it evades you still. It in- 16 ADDRESS BEFORE THE forms the whole man; you see it in the eye; you hear it in the voice; you feel it in the warm pressure of the hand. And yet, when you put the quivering organs to the rack, each answers, It is not in me. While we live, it confers on us our chief distinction; and when we die, it makes our very bodies sacred. But, though not dissected out by the scalpel, nor sub- jected to the tests of the chemist, the mind comes fairly within the scope of medical studies; for it is itself, by turns, the subject, the source, and the cure of disease. In health and in sickness, within certain limits, it sympathizes with the body; and the condi- tion of each must be affected by the general laws and the particular state of the other. So that a well educated physician is, of necessity, somewhat read in the science of mind, the science of our spiritual nature, the laws of the reason, the con- science, and the passions. He should be so, that he may safely treat mere physical diseases, on which the mind has influence ; and more especially, that he may minister to minds diseased. The most dreadful of maladies, and, till recently, the least skilfully treated, are the disorders of the intellectual man. A human creature by the dispensation of Heaven bereſt of reason is the saddest spectacle in this world. Yet who of us is privileged to claim exemption from the dire calamity? Who can tell that his own bright youth is not to be clouded, his own manhood frenzied, or his gray head exposed to the pitiless elements, and to the mockeries of rude men, by this humiliating VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 17 visitation of God And what student of the healing art shall not deem it among the most benignant triumphs of science to control the erring intellect, and restore to sanity the torn and wounded spirit * There is, moreover, Gentlemen, a liberal and ele- wated tone imparted to the character by these higher speculations, which should commend them to your attention. In the philosophy of the mind, we are studying to fix some general principles of belief and of action; principles common to all the professions and pursuits of life. It is, in a word, the philosophy of thought and of duty. And until a man has so far meditated the grounds of faith and obligation as to have formed for himself a theory of truth and right, he has not earned professional consideration, and should not wear the title of a doctor in any art or science. To fill up the outline, which I have attempted to sketch, of the kindred topics more intimately con- nected with medical science, one important subject remains,— that of our holy religion. It is among the best results of recent improvements in medical educa- tion, that the disposition, at one time not unfrequently remarked in medical men, to reject the authority of revelation, may be said to have nearly, or quite, passed away. - It was the peculiar beneficence of our blessed Lord, that he so often intermingled with his messages of love to the spirit miracles of mercy to the body, - healing the sick, restoring the maniac to reason, open- 3 18 ADDRESS BEFORE THE ing the eyes of the blind, and causing the lame man to leap as a hart. It is the peculiar privilege of a Christian physician to intermingle with his ministry of health to the sick, and lenitives to the suffering body, messages of truth and comfort to the soul. He is called sometimes to mitigate the penalty of our transgressions, to apply the resources of his art for averting the consequences of our folly; and a word of kind admonition will do the spirit good like a medicine. He watches the fatal progress of disease which no medicine can cure, and sees his patient insensibly passing, with the painful hours, to the great crisis which no skill can postpone; how happy, if he has skill to prescribe for moral maladies, to cure the dread of death, to convert the natural uncertainties and anxieties of dangerous sickness into placid acqui- escence in the will of God; to be instrumental in assuring the soul of the life that is to come, when he can no longer encourage hope of the life that now is But no man can teach what he does not know ; you cannot transfuse into the bosom of another a spirit which dwells not in your own. To minister Christian truth, and to impart religious consolations, young Gentlemen, you must yourselves have under- stood the New Testament of our Lord, and received of his spirit. The truth as it is in Jesus, and the anointing of the Holy One, are the crowning honors of your professional education. If the Bible is not studied by you, however much you know, you do lack one thing; and, lacking that one thing, you are not VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 19 fitted, in the highest sense, for the exercise of the profession you have chosen. A bitter cup may be sweetened by the hand that gives it, and a faint heart revived by the sunshine of a cheerful presence. The man is almost as much to the patient as the physician. And the Christian is the only man at ease and at home in the chamber of sickness and by the bed of death. The relation you sustain to society, Gentlemen, is most delicate and responsible. Great interests are committed to you. We have none greater to commit to men. Our life is in your hands. In our extremity, our only confidence, under the kind providence of God, is in your skill and your fidelity. It is no light trust that is thus reposed in mortal hands. It is a fearful responsibility to have committed to you the hopes of childhood and the supports of age, the endearments of friendship and the confidences of life. Our legal advisers may mislead us, and we may suffer in estate. Corruption may enter the halls of justice, and the earnings of industry may be torn from us, or life itself may be unjustly taken away. But such sacrifice of life, under regulated governments, is rare ; and enter- prise and economy will repair our broken fortunes. But the loss of a sound constitution, by the ignorance or the inattention of our physician, what prudence can repair º The sacrifice of life, under a false ad- ministration of medicine, must be frequent; and the consequences, though difficult to trace to their true source, disastrous and permanent to the community. 20 ADDRESS BEFORE THE If our spiritual counsellors mistake the way of life, we are not obliged to follow; we have a higher stand- ard; we appeal from the most learned commentator to the Word itself. And we feel, that, in doing so, we stand on solid grounds. The great principles of saving truth are laid in the common sense of man- kind, or opened by the Scriptures to unprejudiced reason in its least cultivated and humblest condition. The spirit turns, in meekness, but with conscious in- dependence, from the teachings of uninspired wisdom, to the testimonies and communion of its God. It is the peculiarity and true glory of the soul to maintain and enjoy a personal, direct intercourse with the Father of spirits. But what measure of good sense is adequate to save us from the fatal consequences of ill-advised or reckless practice of the healing art P Where lies our appeal from the incompetence or rash- ness of men who deal with the principle of life in its secret fountains, administering to us, every day, agents of health or of death equally beyond our ca- pacity to appreciate and our power to resist? It is no wonder, if an intelligent physician sometimes shrinks from the responsibilities imposed by Provi- dence upon him. If any man needs the supports of a religious faith, which, feeling its perilous way upon the earth, keeps its earnest eye on heaven, it is cer- tainly he who may be summoned in an hour to deter- mine by his skill, amidst conflicting symptoms and more conflicting judgments of friends, whether a hu- man life, now trembling on the verge of fate, shall yet be revived, or extinguished for ever. VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 21 The offices you are called to perform for us are, not seldom, ungrateful and self-denying. Weary days and watchful nights are appointed for you. Your own judgments must often be surrendered to our fears, and your patience taxed for our repose. To many, services must be rendered for which they have no means to pay. For us all you have occasion, sometimes, to do offices for which no means can pay. You must submit to be distrusted by those who have not tried you, and abandoned by some who have. The counsels of men and women wiser than the doctors will now annoy you, and now shake the confidence of your patient. Indeed, Gentlemen, you need not only skill to assure yourselves amid diffi- culties and dangers which you alone see, and resolu- tion to act where others hesitate, but address which unlooked-for incidents cannot baffle, a temper which light occasions will not ruffle, and, above all, a cour- tesy and benignity so habitual and inwrought, that your presence, in our alarm and agitation, shall be as oil poured upon the unquiet sea, and your professional life a labor of love. A higher principle than that of gain, or even of professional distinction, is necessary to the patient and cheerful discharge of these duties. Such a principle the gospel inculcates; and I know not if it be incul- cated anywhere else. In its natural influence, the religion of Jesus Christ elevates your calling. The light which it throws upon the future life attaches new value to the present. The destiny which it 22 ADDRESS BEFORE THE points out to the spirit hereafter adds dignity to the body which enshrines it here. All the motives to professional study and the cultivation of professional character are thus increased by the gospel. The devout disciple of Jesus Christ will be, for that very reason, a closer student, a truer gentleman, and a more useful man in his profession. Your professional services are sought, of course, in our distress and calamity, under the oppression of weakness and pain, and in the dread of death. And we would not be untruly and unkindly dealt with in this honest hour. It is necessary to the composure of the anxious heart, in view of the uncertain issues of disease, to be able to rely on the fidelity of a medical adviser, whose skill gives whatever assurance of relief human science can promise, and whose personal ac- quaintance with the subjects of spiritual and everlast- ing interest qualifies him to appreciate our great moral relations, and to enter, with all his heart, into the feelings and solicitudes of a spirit about to quit forever this sublunary scene. It seems to alleviate somewhat the suffering of the sick to see the face of a true-hearted physician, even when his art is con- ſessedly able to do no more for us. The fading eye, in the final struggle, turns, with evident satisfaction, to his kindly countenance, and the fainting heart still leans upon him. There is I know not what feeling, at the last, which is not satisfied to die alone, nor even in the circle of our relatives, – a feeling, which impels alike the dying and his friends to summon to VERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 23 the bedside the physician and the pastor, our counsel for the body and our counsel for the soul, at the dreadful moment when the offices of both are to cease for ever. I have already alluded to the fact, that medicine, like natural science in general, and, indeed, like men- tal and moral science, also, has had an era of skep- ticism. The time has been, when naturalists, and astronomers, and metaphysicians were strangely un- believing. And it is within the memory of the living, that physicians were, as a profession, singularly prone to doubt upon moral and religious subjects. It would seem to be an illustration of the maxim, that our first and our third thoughts are our best. It is a passage in the history of science corresponding to the period of life when we are passing from pupilage to intel- lectual independence. The first exulting action of liberated mind is apt to be excessive and extravagant. We are intoxicated with the first draughts of freedom. It is so in thought, as well as in social life. It may be, too, that there is something in the study of second causes that is, in its first effect, unfavorable to the recognition of the agency and government of the invisible God. The very order and sequence of events in nature, itself the clearest proof of his being and providence, are made the occasion of concealing him from our sight, as if that order and that sequence were themselves uncaused and self-existent. We are seduced to ascribe all things to the laws of the uni- verse, as though these laws themselves were to be ascribed to nothing. 24, ADDRESS BEFORE THE But maturer reason, as it brings back extravagant youth to the sobriety of manhood, brings back, also, vagrant and presumptuous science to the acknowl- edgment of God and of revelation. The last quar- ter of a century has developed, beyond all example, the moral and religious aspects of science. The mechanism of the heavens and the construction of the human hand, the constitution of mind and the instincts of animals, are made equally eloquent in demonstration of the wisdom and goodness of God. The physician, with the naturalist and the meta- physician, is now turning his eye upward, from the creature to the Creator; and begins to recognize a deeper import in our mysterious being than is exhib- ited by the mere phenomena of animal life. He is becoming, therefore, in a manner, a moralist and a divine, and is associating himself with all, in any department of life, who seek the spiritual and eternal health of the children of disease and death. It is a curious fact, that the practice of medicine was originally an incident of the priesthood. It seems to have been so in Egypt, in Judea, and in Greece. It is so in all uncivilized countries still. In process of time, separating itself from divinity, it came to spurn at the authority it had once obeyed; and denied, not unfrequently, the very existence of the religious principle in man. A similar revolution seems to have taken place in the relation of civil government to religion. For ages, religion was the great engine and support of government. When its sole, supreme WERMONT MEDICAL COLLEGE. 25 authority in the state began to be questioned and discussed, it failed in the scrutiny, and gradually lost the confidence of men, till, at length, the doctrine prevailed, that religion is essentially dangerous to lib- erty, and should have no countenance from the state. In some of the American constitutions, the ministers of religion are excluded from civil office. In both cases, however, a similar change is mani- fest. Men are no less averse than ever to ecclesias- tical tyranny; but they are more sensible than ever that true liberty and social happiness are based on the fear of God and mutual love among ourselves, the grand principles of religion. Men of science in the medical profession expect no healing influence from charms, or miracles, or superstitious observances; and yet were never so impressed with the intimate con- nection of their art with the salutary principles and precious hopes of the gospel. There is no sphere of life which piety does not adorn, no rational pursuit which it does not become. It has, however, been regarded as indispensable in the holy order of the ministry alone. And next to that, it seems to me, the profession of physic requires, in all who practise it, a Christian faith and a holy charity. D IS C. O U R S E DELIVERED BEFORE THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK, DECEMBER 22, 1841. WINTER, which seems so like the death of the year, is, really, its birth, – the season of buds and germs, insensibly and mysteriously maturing for the bloom and fragrance of spring. The period of history which preceded the discov- ery of America is the winter of modern civilization. The truth, beauty, and life, which have since opened and ripened on the renovated fields of the Old World, or in the virgin soil of the New, all lay folded up, and were nursed by invisible agencies, in the midst of the torpor and dreariness of the Middle Ages. To use a somewhat triter figure, men slept away the long, long night that followed the brief, bright day of classic art and philosophy. In this sleep of intellect, however, they dreamed, - dreamed beautiful dreams. In their unquiet rest, they pursued unreal objects with more than natural earnestness; fought imaginary foes with Quixotic valor; discussed unphi- losophical questions with unequalled acuteness and indomitable pertinacity; and enacted scenes of daz- DISCOURSE BEFORE THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY 27 zling brilliancy, heroic passion, or chivalrous generos- ity, which have given inspiration to ambition, and supplied material for history and romance, philosophy and poetry, ever since. About the beginning of the sixteenth century, this moral winter broke up, — day dawned on this night of a thousand years. A bit of iron had been taught to point, with intelli- gent fidelity, to the pole, by day and night, by land and sea. A black powder had been invented, which imitated at once the terrific grandeur and the scath- ing power of the thunder. The long buried classics were exhumed. The Christian Scriptures began to be studied with a free spirit. Mind was roused to unwonted effort, and was putting itself forth with youthful freedom and enthusiasm. The great nations situated upon the waters of Western Europe, hitherto separated and isolated from each other, came into intimate and exciting relations. The effect of these various causes, each in itself sufficient to change the course of events, and all coming suddenly into action, was to produce a degree of agitation and to develope phenomena of society which history was never before called to record. It resembled the meeting of the rivers, – the majestic swell or the tumultuous ambi- tion of the sea, that restless congregation of the WaterS. The old limits were too narrow for the new ener- gies and new enterprise of Europe. The Mediterra- nean and the Northern Seas had lost their terrors, 28 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE and, consequently, their novelty and romance also. The navigator, now fearless alike of nature and of man, boldly pushed his bark into unfrequented oceans. Vasco de Gama met and vanquished the terrible phantom that had so long guarded the Stormy Cape. Columbus, as if really inspired by the beautiful Hes- per, to whose guardian divinity our own epic poet (would he had many such conceptions!) has so happily assigned this latest Hesperia, and nearest to the set- ting sun, pursued his high calling from court to court, and, with infinite faith and constancy, held on his way, till, with enraptured eye, he saw the shores of the New World. Most fortunate, most favored of mor- tals, how little we know thee! how little we honor thee by our regrets and our commiseration | Thou wast unkindly, cruelly dealt with, – denied even the poor privilege of engraving thy name upon the con- tinent which thy genius gave to the world. But who, that knows what is in man, and how Heaven bestows its richest gifts on him, who would not welcome the forgetfulness of princes, the ingratitude of nations, and the dungeons of Castile, for the moral triumph of that hour, when the great hope of thy life, so long delayed, was at last realized The jealousies of statesmen pass away; the malice of rivals is not immortal; the great continent itself will disappear. But the con- sciousness of that signal glory is part of thyself, and can never die. To the awakened nations of Western Europe, in this unexampled state of things, gazing with equal NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 29 surprise on the brightening lights of ancient Italy and Greece and holy Palestine, and on the undefined wonders of the new hemisphere, it must have seemed almost as if morning and evening, in a playful freak, interchanging places, had conspired to adorn the day together, — so like enchantment must have appeared to them the sunset of the East and the dawn in the West. At this high-souled period, in this blushing and “redolent springtime ’’ of our civilization, Europe — magna mater virim — sent over her colonies to America; and the continent opened its bosom to receive the best — Adam Smith has said, the only— gift which the New World owes to the Old, A RACE OF GREAT MEN. The principal nations entered into an earnest con- test for priority and prečminence in the new found lands ; and, in little more than a century, the coast had been surveyed from Mount Raleigh, in the North, “the cliffs whereof were orient as gold,” to “Where Magellan lifts his torch on high To light the meeting of the oceans.” Of this seven thousand miles of coast, a considera- ble part was sprinkled with European settlements, and its forests indented with smiling bays of cultiva- tion. The foremost in this new field were Spain, France, and Great Britain, all leading nations at the time, and in the subsequent history of Europe. To Spain, heroic, chivalrous, religious, already con- 30 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE solidated under Ferdinand and Isabella, still full of the energy which her original tribes had acquired among the hills of Asturia and the Pyrenees, and fresh from the conquest of Granada, which had just crowned a war of seven centuries for the recovery of their native land, - to Spain, then at the head of Europe, and the first to plant colonies in America, fell the vast territory which stretches from the forty-third degree of south to the thirty-seventh degree of north latitude : exceeding the Russian empire in extent; possessing the utmost variety of climate and scenery, a fresh vitality of soil, and inexhaustible mineral riches; and occupied by timid natives, who, stupefied by the dreadful energy of European warfare, yielded up their treasures almost without a struggle, and resigned their entire country to a mere handful of armed men. The French — alike ambitious of foreign dominion, industrious, frugal; luxuriating in the garden of Eu- rope, and yet easy of adaptation to the exigencies of life and the accidents of fortune ; capable equally of profound science and exquisite refinement; prone always to liberal sentiments and grand achievement —laid claim to the fairest portion of North America. Her navigators and missionaries, ambitious of the national honor, or stimulated by Christian charity, had traced the Mississippi almost from its fountains to the Gulf, and had followed the St. Lawrence, through its long chain of inland seas, to where but a hand’s breadth of land, as it were, separates the Falls of NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 31 St. Anthony, the head of navigation on the Missis- sippi, from the western extremity of Lake Superior. Never, surely, was so magnificent a theatre of colo- nial enterprise presented to a people. Over the im- mense and fertile valleys, watered by those vast streams, private enterprise had caused the lilies of France to nod in peaceful Supremacy. But, alas for the successors of the great Louis, over this broad and beautiful domain other lords were destined to have dominion. To England, besides a precarious foothold in the frozen North, the right of discovery had given not quite all the coast from Halifax to Florida, -the shore only of a fraction of the northern half of the conti- ment, — a narrow, irregular belt of land, between the mountains and the sea, which the Virgin Queen, who was pleased to compliment the solitude of her maiden throne by giving it a name, could she now revisit the scene of her wizard empire, might survey, in its length and breadth, in hardly more time than was taken up in her Majesty’s “Progress” from Hampton Court to Kenilworth Castle. The record of the progress and results of these great colonial enterprises is the most instructive and the most exciting passage of history." It is crowded with great truths and romantic incidents, – truths, which shine, as beacon-lights, from the annals of Mar- shall, Grahame, and Sparks; incidents, which give a brilliant coloring and pathetic interest to the eloquent pictures of Robertson and Bancroft. It opens wider 32 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE views than are anywhere else exhibited of the social capacities of man, and excites higher hopes of the destinies of the race. It is now exactly three hundred years since Spanish heroes, with incredible courage, and all but miraculous success, completed the conquest of the last of the seven great empires which, at the time of its discov- ery, occupied the southern portion of America. The descendants of the Spanish colonists do not, probably, fall short of six millions. And what have they done f what one great point have they gained P They inhabit the best watered, the healthiest, the richest, the most picturesque peninsula on the map of the world. They have enjoyed the lights of modern knowledge and Christianity. They inherit a copious and cultivated language. They have had access to one of the rich literatures of the Old World. The art of printing was introduced among them before the Pilgrims emigrated; and, in 1700, they had pub- lished more than all the northern colonies together. Yet it can hardly be said, that, in three centuries, they have improved the morals, or advanced the civ- ilization, or, in any material respect, bettered the con- dition, of this fair but unfortunate part of the earth. The injustice and ferocity of their unprovoked war- fare upon the natives are atoned for by no regulated Christian societies, rising on the ruins of ancient superstition, and gladdening the gloomy path of con- quest. Patriotism has not withheld her sacrifices; humanity has pleaded through eloquent and holy lips; NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 33 the sympathy and the prayers of all the free have been cordially proffered to them; treasure has been expended by them beyond calculation ; blood has been shed in rivers. But not one useful institution has been permanently established, not one new art invented, not one new truth discovered. The trav- eller, among the undeciphered ruins of an ancient civilization, which impart a solemn grandeur to their aerial plains, wearied with the alternations of anarchy and despotism, and disgusted with the mockeries of religion, is ready to invoke the resurrection of Mexico and Peru, of Montezuma and the Incas. And, as if in retribution for the wrongs inflicted on an unof- fending people, the parent state herself has been impoverished by the very wealth of her possessions, degraded by the instrument of her aggrandizement, enfeebled by the accession of power. France followed Spain in the career of colonization. French emigrants were early settled in Florida; on the St. Lawrence, from the ocean to the Lakes ; and thence down the Mississippi and its branches, to the Gulf ; thus making a continuous line of hamlets and towns along these great waters, and through the very heart of these wooded plateaus and ocean savannas, from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the Mediterranean Sea of America. Of these settlements, suggested originally by patri- otism and religion, and conducted with comparative humanity, not one maintains, at this distance of time, its original French character. In America, just as in 5 34 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE the far East and in Europe itself, power has been gradually and sensibly passing into the hands of the Anglo-Saxon race. The most unmixed French population, on this side the sea, lines, with its unvarying aspect and its unen- terprising cultivation, the shores of the St. Lawrence from Quebec to Montreal. Here, in a beautiful val- ley, fringed on one side by the verdant banks of this noble river, and on the other by primitive forests, that nearly shade their narrow meadows, this contented and inefficient people, with some of the best blood of Europe in their veins, like the sons and daughters of Abyssinia in the Happy Valley, “pleased with each other and with themselves,” live without achievement or ambition. Beyond the daily supply of daily wants, they seem to dream of nothing better for themselves than a pipe and a fiddle; and nothing better for their children than to divide the old farm between them, and live as their fathers lived before them. Neither Spain nor France has, at present, a foot of land on our continent. Nor has either of these origi- nal proprietors of nearly all its best soil the pride to see a single colony of hers enjoying an established government of its own, and cherishing, with filial gratitude, or generous emulation, the literature and arts of the parent country. The names of some scores of rivers, mountains, and cities, and these dis- figured often by a foreign pronunciation, are almost the only memorials of their splendid colonial enter- prises which either of them would care to recognize. NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 35 How different the destiny of the English colonies! England, occupied with engrossing objects at home, was behind her rivals in the West by half a century. She was shut up to a territory comparatively small, sterile, and austere. Yet the few, unaided adventur- ers, who planted themselves between Cape Fear and Passamaquoddy Bay, have, in little more than two centuries, increased to seventeen millions. They have, I may say, invented a free government. They have maintained popular liberty for more than two hundred years. They have a commerce second only to that of the “Queen of the Northern Seas.” And, though separated from the seats of Transatlantic power by three thousand miles of ocean, they claim to be re- spected in the councils of the remotest member of the European family of nations. Our western boun- dary, which originally ran along the nearest highlands, has, like the visible horizon, fled before us, as we have advanced, till at length the sun rises in our own seas, and in our own seas sinks to rest. We are spreading free institutions, popular education, and Protestant Christianity over an undisputed domain, four times greater in extent than Spain, France, and Great Britain together. Of this aspiring and noble lineage, Gentlemen, are we who meet to celebrate “Forefathers' Day” in the city of New Amsterdam. The remainder of the hour which your kindness has assigned to me on this occasion how can I better occupy than by inviting your attention to a cursory 36 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE view of some of the principal sources of the charac- ter and the progress which it has been our fortune, as a people, thus to present to the study of the histo- rian and the instruction of mankind? It is not fate, it is not accident, Gentlemen, which has made this wide difference in the history of the settlers on these shores. The present prosperous condition and the glorious prospects of our country are the natural growth of seeds early sown. They are the unforced develop- ment of germs of success and greatness that were brought over with Smith, and Winslow, and Cotton, and Hooker, and Davenport. They found here all they wanted, - a vital soil, a pure air, and room to grow. Our expansion has been mainly from two centres, Virginia and New England. These primitive settle- ments were equally English, – offshoots from the same stock. They drew their blood from common ancestors. They spoke a common language. They possessed a common inheritance in the literature and history of the parent state. They brought with them the same feeling of filial regard for the home they loved and left beyond the sea. They were equally of the seventeenth century, and of the reformed church. And here the parallel ends. The leading men in the two communities were of different ranks in society. The titled and high-born, for the most part, went to the South. The New England colonists were nearly all of the middle class of Englishmen. They differed, also, in the degree of NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 37 reformation to which they had gone in religion. The Church of England was represented in Virginia; the Pilgrims were Protestants of the Protestants. Their ideas of civil government were equally unlike. The former had no antipathy to the Stuarts; the latter had strong democratic sympathies and tendencies. They emigrated for different ends; the Virginian for wealth, or the love of adventure, or the honor of Old England; the New Englander for a place ever so remote, some quiet nook, where he might enjoy his own religion in his own way. They took up their abode in different latitudes and on different soils. Both Virginia and New England have acted con- spicuous parts in our history. Both have produced great men in our public councils and in every line of life. Each has borne its part in the new development of humanity in the New World. And each can afford to award to the other its full meed of praise. But it can hardly be denied, that, of the seventeen millions of people who are spreading themselves over our two million square miles of territory, by far the greatest number are of New England origin. The great Western World is full of her sons. They abound in the towns and places of business, the schools, col- leges, and professions of the whole country. Your own city, the emporium of America, the pride of commerce, the nurse of enterprise, in which so many races meet, and from which radiate moral and Chris- tian influences to gladden the remotest dwellings of men, gives proof irrefragable of the permeating and prolific spirit of New England. 38 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE The peculiarities of American character, our dis- tinctive national features, are New England. The Virginian belongs more to the Old World. His soli- tary manor, his feudal hospitality, his chivalrous honor and frankness, his lofty bearing, his amusements even, his hounds and his horses, all associate him with the knights and cavaliers of England. The ashes of Raleigh and Smith sleep in the bosom of their native island; but their high souls are reproduced still in the country of which one of them said, “Heaven and earth seem never to have agreed better to frame a place for man's commodious and delightful habitation.” Nothing is more difficult than to draw broad lines of distinction between portions of the same people. Nowhere is it more hazardous to attempt it than among us. Our migratory habits, the easy and fre- quent intercourse of all parts of the country, our common institutions of government and education, are constantly counteracting local influences and asso- ciations, and tend always to the production of a uni- form national character. Still, the cheerful industry, the hardy enterprise, the ingenuity, the calculation, the self-reliance, the thrift, which distinguish the occidental form of Saxon civilization, have, beyond dispute, their seat and their source chiefly in the land of the Pilgrims. The traits by which we are most known abroad, and most clearly discriminated as a peculiar people, are Yankee traits. The very offences and foibles of our character are mostly of New England origin. To drive a bargain, NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 39 to ask questions, to take liberties with gentlemen, to guess, whistle, and whittle are really Yankee traits. They are so, because, in certain circumstances, they naturally grow out of the same constitution of the man which fits him to level the forest with his axe, to cover the rock with verdure, to ply every bay of every ocean with his oar, to attack and subdue the whale in his own element, while the sea is boiling like a pot about him, and neither land nor ship is to be seen, and to lead in so many of the moral enter- prises of the world. In the New England gentleman there is as perfect self-possession, as delicate personal intercourse, as honorable bearing, as adorn life any- where. But men instinct with freedom, vital in every part, are schooled to composure and courtesy only by the stern discipline of cultivated life. How much this refining discipline is enjoyed in New England a stranger would be surprised to see, not only in her cities and larger towns, but hardly less even in the sweet villages which give an air of humanity to her wild streams and green mountains. The gross, little traits of the real Jonathan are the vulgar development of that spirit of progress, that love of knowledge, that impatience of rest, that liberty, which are the pledges, because they are real elements, of greatness. We may wish it were otherwise. One is reasona- bly ashamed to be awkward, though it be only be- cause he does not know how to stand still. It is a pity that we ever violate the rules of good breeding, though in the innocency of our hearts. Far be it 40 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE from me to justify the murder of the king's English, albeit without malice aforethought, or to suggest an apology even for the petty mischief perpetrated with the penknife. We confess to the charge ; we bare our backs to the lash; happy, if these are our chief- est sins. It is a mercy that they are so harmless. I recollect but one instance of any fatal consequence, and that was the ever-to-be-regretted misfortune of the eloquent and amiable consort of Rip van Winkle, who is recorded, I think, to have broken a blood- vessel, in a fit of passion at a New England pedler. The character of our New England ancestors may, without over-refinement, be resolved into two princi- ples, – A PECULIAR SENSE OF INDIVIDUALITY, AND A PECULIAR FEELING OF SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP To GoD. These are, indeed, characteristics of English mind, of free Christian mind, everywhere. They are no otherwise peculiar to New England than as they have existed there in unusual simplicity and intensity. They have been developed there more freely and more harmoniously than elsewhere ; unchecked in their natural action; unencumbered by existing in- stitutions. They have there had to contend with no traditionary prejudices, no artificial states of society. Twin daughters of knowledge and faith, they grew up together in our clear mountain air, and by the shore of the same sea which rolled in the bay and froze on the rocks when the Pilgrims landed from the Mayflower. The great problem of life has been to maintain the NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 41 true union and the true distinction of humanity and divinity. Men are prone either to annihilate them- selves that they may honor God, or to exalt them- selves by forgetting him. The first extreme is fatal- ism, and leads either to inaction or to fanaticism. The other extreme is presumption, the parent of in- consistency, folly, and weakness. The Reformation was itself a great struggle for the more perfect union of these two elements of human character. The individual had been lost in the church and the state. The man had been allowed no dis- tinct personality, no reason, no will, of his own. He was not esteemed a soul in himself, but a member of the common mind, - not an integer, but a fraction. He might think, but only as he was taught. He was expected to act, but only as he was bid. His individ- uality was thus merged in authority. The philosophy of the system was a kind of pantheism of man. It admitted his existence, and denied his personality. Infidelity, to which unregulated reason rushed, un- der the intoxication of suddenly acquired liberty, and which, at one time, threatened the destruction of both religion and government, is the opposite extreme. It severed the golden chain that draws man upward to his God, and left the human mind to waste itself in blind endeavours after an unknown good, to feel, in the dark, for what, after all, it more than insinuated is never to be found. In England, this great contest ended, at length, in the establishment of a national Protestant church; a 6 42 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE system of worship so evangelical in its doctrine, so beautiful in its ritual, so reverent in its forms, that a considerate man would hardly have meditated a change. The Puritans themselves did not, at first, entertain the thought of a separate worship. They only prayed to be tolerated ; or, if they must conform, to be in- dulged with the omission of certain forms of expres- sion, and certain ceremonies, which savored of Rome. Failing in this, and driven by tyranny to the extreme limit of endurance, they left the church and the king- dom. It was a great struggle, and a great determination. When I read that the little company, who thus fled with the ark of liberty to the free States of Holland, and thence to the freer forests of America, were all young men, most of them from twenty to thirty, I feel how wicked and how impotent is that authority which denies to man a personal and moral independ- €IlC6. The consequence of this movement in the North of England was a fuller development of the right of pri- vate judgment, a higher estimate of intelligent moral existence, a nobler idea of the ends of all order, civil and religious, and a juster apprehension of the means of social happiness, than had ever before been attained. It taught us to attach a higher character to life, by discovering in it nobler elements. Man, in any form, and in any stage of his existence, was no longer re- garded as a thing, or a creature, or a subject; he be- came a spiritual, independent being, with sacred ca- NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 43 pacities, with inviolable rights and untransferable re- sponsibilities. Standing erect on the basis of his own conscience, he looked over and above all principalities and powers to the throne of God. Such, in the practical philosophy of the Pilgrims, was the idea of man, – a great idea, though to us so obvious. This alone, however, did not suffice to fit them for their high calling. This idea of man want- ed a counterpart in the idea of God. Giving, there- fore, to man this absolute finite moral being, they as- cribed to God absolute infinite moral being, -intelli- gent sovereignty and free grace. Thus they brought into immediate contact and practical harmony the two opposite poles of human nature, — action and submis- sion, freedom and destiny, individuality and depend- ence. I speak not here as a metaphysician. I care not to meddle with the theology of the Pilgrims as a system; I look at it only as a historical element of their character. They, like the Huguenots of France, undoubtedly belonged to the school of Geneva. But, whatever may be thought of the metaphysics of the disciples or the master, we know, as a historical fact, that no men have held stronger opinions upon human freedom than they who, at the same time, believed in a special providence, a spiritual adoption to an inti- mate relationship to God, an election of grace to ac- complish important purposes in the world. They felt themselves to have been divinely called. They saw nothing in life but a mission, a fulfilment of the pur- poses and promises of Heaven. Erecting themselves 44 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE on this lofty sense of the supernatural, the infinite, the divine, with the book of promise in their hands, and the faith of Abraham in their hearts, nothing was impossible to them; they could do all things; they could bear all things. In the beautiful and touching letter of Robinson to the church of Plymouth, written immediately after the mortality of the first winter, which carried off full half their numbers, “In a bat- tle,” says this apostolic man, “it is not to be looked for but that divers should die.” When one after an- other of their little band fell a victim to death, it is affecting to observe the simple entrance made in their journal, - “This day died” such and such a one. And when, in the following summer, the Mayflower was preparing to return, notwithstanding the sickness, and sufferings, and mortality of the preceding winter, not one man, not one woman, was ready to go back. These ideas of man and of God, as they presup- posed Thought, so they nourished it. Thought, re- flection, the study of ourselves and our great spiritual relations, are the elements of such ideas. The free use of our own intellects, the unrestrained action of Christian sentiments, constituted, in an eminent de- gree, the ideal of man in our fathers’ estimation. Hence their peculiar, characteristic self-respect, — the honor they put upon their own nature; a feeling which, though sometimes it may wear the semblance of disrespect to authority, to age, to merit, is, never- theless, among the first principles of all dignified and lofty action, all enthusiasm for liberty, and all genuine charity. NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 45 Hence their zeal for popular instruction, for intelli- gent preaching, for academic education. And hence what was, perhaps, of more influence than any one thing beside, their singular domestic discipline; a dis- cipline which gave to the house of a Pilgrim father an order that likened it to a camp, a culture that likened it to a school, and a worship that made it a Bethel. - Every town of fifty families was, by law, obliged to maintain a schoolmaster; and when the number reached a hundred, a grammar school, where young men might be fitted for the University, -an institution in actual operation at Cambridge, and fostered by all the New England colonies, within twenty years from the landing at Plymouth. Every town had a place of worship and a minister of the gospel. When new Swarms went out from the parent hive, they settled together in some sunny meadow, or on some mountain stream ; and thus formed a village, a compact neigh- bourhood, for the express purpose of enjoying a com- mon school and a common worship. The Southern colonists, from the nature of their agriculture, lived dispersed and widely separated. They had no con- venient little centres, with a mill, a blacksmith's shop, a store, a schoolhouse, a church, and a parsonage, where the people of a town are accustomed to meet, to discuss the public interests, to exercise their civil rights, to learn and to worship together. These facilities for popular improvement in New England were rendered doubly efficient by the fact, 46 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE that many of the first emigrants were not only pious, but educated men, – scholars, as well as divines and politicians. And their talents and acquisitions were all consecrated to the enterprise in which they had embarked. Their conversation, their preaching, their writings, were all imbued with the Pilgrim spirit; all tended to throw over the original design of the col- onies, and their Heaven-directed history, an air at once of romance and of inspiration, and to give to the first period of the settlement the character and influence of a golden age. The number of journals, sermons, histories, and other works published among them before the end of the century, and almost all adapted to impress the features of the Pilgrims deep- ly and indelibly upon their posterity, is scarcely cred- ible. All this while, the Southern people had few schools, and only here and there a place of religious worship. Down nearly to the Revolution, they sent their sons, for the most part, abroad for education. Even New York had not a college, and few grammar. schools; New York, the daughter of republican Hol- land, of the lineage of De Ruyter and Van Tromp, of Grotius and Erasmus, of Rubens, Rembrandt, and Vandyck; New York, a notable housekeeper, a princely benefactress of the Church and the poor, a model of the severer virtues, and rich in lordly pat- ents; now of a long time wedded to New England, and peopling her own broad domain and the farthest West with the mingled excellences of both. It is easy to see, therefore, how the philosophy of NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 47 the Pilgrims, their village population, their institutions of learning, their religious worship, their domestic in- struction, and the press, there first introduced, taken in connection with the providential fact, that nearly all the leading men who came over in the first ship survived the maladies and privations of the first year, and lived to extreme old age, sensible and venerable memorials of the spirit of the primitive settlement, — it is plain how all these things conspired to perpetuate a distinct and strongly marked character of intelli- genec and piety in this part of the country. The principles which thus fostered knowledge and religion, and brought out the natural fruits of both in the history of New England, had an effect no less remarkable on the spirit of civil and ecclesiastical government. These same principles naturally fixed the limits of both ; they are, in truth, the very el- ements of democracy in church and state. Every Puritan is a king; his theory of life is free; his spirit is unbound. The institutions and administration of the Pilgrims came nearer to realizing this theory in practice than men had ever come before. Intoler- ance and narrowness do, indeed, deform their charac- ter. But these grievous faults of theirs, like the spots on the face of the sun, are rendered visible only by their own light. Their great guide and pioneer knew not every thing. He burned Servetus, for aught I know. And what if he had burned the Alps and the Lake of Geneva It would still be true, that, with all his high notions of the sovereignty and decrees of 48 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE God, his soul was liberal and large ; he was a real democrat, one of the freest of the free, and a teach- er of freedom. I come not here, Gentlemen, to scan, with microscopic jealousy, the frailties of such men. Our fathers were not faultless; they never arrogated perfection to themselves. But they saw in part; and, as far as was given them to see, they carried out, in their civil and ecclesiastical administration, the great maxim, so simple and so beautiful, because so consonant to the analogies of Providence, that the least possible government is the best, — in other words, that the true theory of society is to rely mainly on the natural excitements to action, — the instincts, the passions, the reason, and the conscience; and to reg- ulate these by legal enactments only so far as, by this very regulation itself, to secure to each and all the utmost practicable liberty. And I have no pa- tience with the spirit, which, from this vantage ground of retrospection, looks back to the Pilgrim age only to think of the witches and the Quakers. Let us. rather, like filial brothers, be seen walking reverently backward, to cover the shame of the patriarchs, the fathers, in the providence of God, of a new race in a new world. Other and more particular illustrations of these pri- mary elements of the Pilgrim character in the fea- tures and spirit of our New England society present themselves; but I may only allude to a few of them. Habitual thoughtfulness, the conscious possession of personal attributes of power and responsibility, make NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 49 excellent pioneers of civilization, happy dwellers in the woods, cheerful borderers; because they open resources in a man’s own arm, in his own bosom, and in his own home. Many a New England mother has charmed the livelong day, in the depths of the forest, with as joyous music as ever flowed from hearts made gay by the brilliant festivities of the city. Many a New England father, after a day of solitary toil in subduing the reluctant wilderness, has “welcomed cheerful evening in ’’ with a sweet sentiment of home and a glad spirit. The same traits of mind are apt to write in strong lines upon the face a character of seriousness, re- serve, caution, and, it may be, ungracious independ- ence; for they lead us to attach importance chiefly to the essential man. They beget a love of simplicity and sincerity, a carelessness of appearances, an indif- ference to forms; and communicate, sometimes, an air of freedom, perhaps of rudeness, where there may be no want of genuine good sense and good feeling. To these same causes may be traced our love of home. To superficial observers, the more intelligent even, as Marryatt and Chevalier, the spirit of enter- prise so prevalent among us seems inconsistent with strong domestic attachments. That young men and young women should be true lovers of home, and yet fly from it, in their teens, to the ends of the land, and the solitudes of the desert, seems a parodox, and yet how true ! You know, Gentlemen, how the spirit of enterprise, which follows the bright promises of am- 7 50 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE bition, or wealth, or charity, to the world’s end, con- sists with, O, yes, invigorates, your fond attachment to your father's house. I need not tell you how all your tenderest sensibilities cling around the spot of your birth with more and more tenacity, the farther, in place or time, you are removed from it; how the heart yearns to hold in your own name, and to trans- mit in your own line, the old homestead, with its spreading elm, its noisy rivulet, and its brown hills, the scene of your early industry, and the final resting- place of your early friends. The heart wants visible memorials to fasten upon. It requires a centre to re- volve about. And we may be assured, that, just in proportion as our early habits have been formed by intelligence, by religious principle, by domestic order, by the interchange of delicate sentiments and kind feelings around a common fireside and at a common altar, shall we be bound by inextinguishable ties to our native spot. The happy daughter of the East, grown old amid the bloom and exuberance of the Great Valley, still sighs for the sterility of New Eng- land. How often the son of our barren hills, when the enterprises of ambition are concluded, and the energies of life are exhausted, returns, at last, to re- pose his dying heart where the heart of his father ceased to beat, and to lay his cold remains close by her to whose side he clung in infancy, and in whose bosom he was nourished and sheltered To these causes may we not ascribe, also, the gen- erosity and hospitality of New England * Yes, the NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 51 hospitality and the generosity of the money-making, money-saving Yankees. There is pecuniary little- ness, there is social meanness, there is lean and hun- gry avarice in New England, -one of the few settle- ments made on these shores unprompted by ambition for wealth. But what supplies the sources of gener- osity Is it not economy? Is it not providence, cal- culation, improvement? And what if the habit of accumulation becomes sometimes a passion, a vice even It only proves the existence of the virtue of which it is but the excess and abuse. I grant you, we are not a people prodigal of other men's bitter earnings. We are not profuse, to wastefulness and self-exhaustion, of wealth acquired by wrong and out- rage upon nature and humanity. We earn our daily bread by the sweat of the brow. Within doors and without, in the country and in the town, all things, with us, are full of labor. No man is above it. No man is ashamed of it. The fruits of this ever-active industry, and this ever- watchful frugality which goes hand in hand with it, are not accumulation merely, with parsimony and sor- did avarice by its side. These fruits are still more conspicuous in a charity as liberal, a hospitality as heartfelt, as any society of men can boast of Is there anywhere ampler or more tasteful provision for the public convenience Are private dwellings, from the whited farm-house to the marble mansion of the town, anywhere more beautiful ? Are nobler struc- tures anywhere dedicated to education or religion ? 52 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE Is the poor man better fed, are his children better educated, elsewhere f What wealth has reared those asylums for the blind and the insane? Whose earn- ings have sprinkled over the land refuges for the or- phan, the superannuated seaman, the friendless sick? Who endowed our frequent universities, enriched with the learning of ages and with the instruments of all science P What feeds the thousand streams which flow out from New England to make the world glad, and which, like her living streams of emigration, leave abundance still behind P Are the nation’s guests received with greater munificence, or welcomed more heartily, in any part of the land P Are sweeter char- ities opened to the private friend, or more grateful courtesies bestowed upon the stranger, in any coun- try P. We do, indeed, know how blessed it is to re- ceive ; but we know, also, how much more blessed it is to give. - Of the influence of the scenery and soil of New England, in giving energy to the original principles of her character, I have not time to speak. I may not trespass farther on your patience than simply to say that nature and religion never coöperated better to produce an independent and a believing Spirit; — a self-reliance, which hardly betrays consciousness of dependence; and a dependence, which could not be increased, if we had, ourselves, no part to act. Free- dom is the very genius of our hills; and the hills are God’s unhewn altars. Gentlemen, I have no more to say for the land of NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY. 53 the Pilgrims; happy, most happy, if I have been able, in any degree, to revive in you a grateful and a proud remembrance of the pleasant place of your birth, – the sunny hill-sides and smiling villages of New England, - the homes you have left, but have not ceased to love, – the scenes of your baptism, and the sepulchres of your fathers. T H E P A T R I O T C IT I Z E N . AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT LEBANON, N. H., ON MONDAY, THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1842. PATRIOTISM has always been reckoned among the virtues. It is a natural and universal sentiment, — cherished equally in the most unfriendly and the most benignant climates; more ſervid, even, in Switzer- land, or Scotland, or New England, than amid the perennial verdure of the tropics. It glows alike in “ the fiery heart of youth '' and among the embers of age. The spot where a man was born has, at least, one charm for him. And, so long as life itself is precious to him, so long as he loves to look upon the sun, or the stars, or the maternal earth, so long as he feels one fond attachment to man or nature, the place where his eyes were first opened to the light, the land in which his heart first beat with gladness, will be dear to him. It may be sterile and austere ; but it is his native land; and this gives verdure to its hills, and music to its streams. It is the home of his childhood; and the bright, warm colors of a filial heart are spread all over its rugged and bold features. THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 55 Its name may not have been signalized in history; to him, however, it is venerable without the crown of gray antiquity, and fragrant without the odors of fame. As life runs on, numerous causes conspire to devel- ope and mature the sentiment. The scenes around us acquire a beauty to our eye; familiar sounds become eloquent to our ear. The mute objects with which we have lived come to be memorials of what we have been. We converse with them as with companions of our early days. We bid them adieu with tears; and return to them with greetings. Domestic incidents impart a sanctity to this affec- tion. Our family history is engraven on the sides of our native hills. The forms of those we have loved hover around the place where their day of life was spent. Good beings seem to preside over it, and good influences consecrate it. Whatever of respect or fondness we feel for our parents and early friends is still attached to the houses where they lived and the graves where they lie, and is insensibly diffused over the land to which they belonged. Public events, too, in which great traits of char- acter have been displayed, and important changes in human affairs effected, expand and dignify the proud feeling which binds us to our country. Its govern- ment, its laws, its literature, its religion, whatever belongs to us as social, intelligent, moral beings, form so many strong ties to attach us to it. Thus many influences unite to nourish and render sacred the natural love of one's own land. This 56 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. passion has, accordingly, adorned every people, and given inspiration to eloquence and art in every age. Next after piety to the gods the ancients placed love of country. And mankind have consented to brand the traitor, the recreant citizen, as the meanest, basest of his race. This universal feeling, thus operative everywhere, everywhere evinces the common care of Providence for the whole human family, by equalizing the sense of happiness under the most dissimilar governments, and insuring content, if it does not create enthusiasm, in the most unequal climes. The sentiment has, however, been in some degree modified by the character and circumstances of par- ticular nations. - Among the principal people of the ancient world, it was substantially the love of national glory, - the pride of dominion, — the desire of achievement, — the triumph of arms. A country's welfare was iden- tified with its military fame and the wealth of its tributary provinces. Patriotism was clad in armor, or robed in office. If it appeared in any other form, it was mainly confined to the orators and philosophers. In all, it was exclusive and idolatrous. It had no sympathy with man as man. It recognized nothing great or good beyond the limits of their own country. This it worshipped. To it it sacrificed all other inter- ests and all other loves. To die for it was glory among men and piety to the gods. The state was, in their esteem, above humanity; its honor paramount to virtue itself. THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 57 The Jews, though not one of the leading nations, were not behind their neighbours in patriotic feeling. They could not sing the Lord’s song in a strange land. They fought with desperation for their moun- tain homes. They counted it greatness to belong to the land of Judah. They meditated no conquests; they indulged no thirst for dominion. Their greatest pride was to be Israelites, children of the promise, heirs of the patriarchs. Judea, to them, was all holy land, - a theatre of miracles and revelations. Angel feet had pressed its soil. God had there visibly com- muned with men. A supernatural atmosphere in- vested the land and consecrated the people. Jewish patriotism was eminently a religious feeling. It had little of the character of that virtue as it appeared in ancient Europe. The pride of Israel was the glory of God. They fought for their altars and the name of the Lord. The land flowing with milk and honey, the garden of the earth, was dear to them chiefly as the heritage of the Lord, the dwelling-place of the Most High. There seemed to them to be nothing out of it on earth, and but a step between it and heaven. Christianity introduced ideas entirely new. It did not condemn the feeling of patriotism; it allowed and cherished it, but under important modifications, which present the virtue in a new light. It attached us no less to places, but more to persons. It stripped the scenery of a country of none of the beautiful and inspiring associations which great events and great 8 58 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. traits of character were wont to hang around the eloquent mountain-passes and crimson seas where valor had triumphed and the destinies of empires had been changed; but it raised the actor above the scene; it gave new dignity to man as man ; it drew around the transient dweller in the valleys and on the hills associations more interesting and more sublime than had ever consecrated any field of war or scene of greatness. It changed the point of light in which events are to be viewed. It engaged attention more to the fleeting generations that appear and vanish away in such rapid succession, than to the theatre on which they enact their part, or the monuments they leave behind them. The state became a less impor- tant object, and the people of the state more im- portant. Man came to be more regarded in his essential characteristics, and less in his accidental circumstances. Whilst, therefore, Christianity recognized and fos- tered the love of country in the disciple, it taught him to consider all men as brethren, to open his heart to the whole world. It assumed what science has since demonstrated, that the true interest of the whole is the interest of the parts; that the prosperity of one nation is the prosperity of all. It therefore incul- cated philanthropy, without at all obliging us to stifle any reasonable attachment to our own land. At a time when no people had conceived the idea of com- mon, mutual interests among the entire family of man, our blessed Lord unsealed the treasures of his THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 59 grace to all, and commanded us to count every man, without distinction of race or origin, a neighbour and a brother. “I am the light of the world,” said he. It was the first distinct announcement of the common interest of all men in the covenant of God. The command with which the Son of Man concluded his last interview with his disciples, “Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature,” was the first commission of universal mercy. And the enterprise of the apostles for the conver- sion of the world, in pursuance of this command, was the first mission of charity to man, as man, upon record. After so long a time, we are, at last, beginning to see that this great principle of mutual love among men is the true interest of each and all. Conquest and oppression, however they flatter the vanity and feed the avarice of men, are ultimately fatal to the con- querors as well as the conquered. The only unfailing resources of individuals and of nations are in them- selves. All real and safe progress is the development from the centre of life within us. Production is the only source of wealth. To buy, we must sell; to sell, we must find a market, and our market is the world. The narrower and the poorer that world is, the less it will want of us, and the less it will give for our prod- ucts. To oppress or to impoverish other nations is, therefore, just so far to limit the demand for, and, of course, the price of, our own productions, and just so far to discourage our industry, repress our enterprise, and dry up the sources of our greatness. 60 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. The real patriot must, therefore, be a Christian pa- triot. An intelligent love of our own country creates no narrow jealousies of other countries. Their gains are not our loss; their elevation is not our depression; their prosperity is not at our expense. In truth, every new nation, planted on the most distant shores, stim- ulates our industry and augments our resources. Ev- ery million added to the population of any part of the world is so much additional demand for the fruits of our labor; every thousand pounds accumulated by industry and prudence anywhere is so much increased ability to pay for the products of our skill and the savings of our economy. It all goes to enlarge and quicken the common market for the whole production of the world. The patriot is thus a philanthropist, and the phi- lanthropist a patriot. No industrious and enterpris- ing man can wholly expatriate himself. The man of science, the artist, the navigator, who seeks the gains of industry or the rewards of genius in any quarter of the world, is still doing his own country good. The missionary, in his errand of love to the remotest regions, cannot wholly spend himself abroad. “There is that giveth and yet increaseth.” And we may add to the maxim of the wise man, that giving always increaseth. Our charities to the world return into our own bosom. The man of Christian philanthropy, in his farthest wanderings, is not obliged to feel that he alienates himself from his native place, when, taking his life in his hand, he crosses the desert or the sea, to minister mercy to the poor of other climes. THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 61 Patriotism stands between the benevolence which embraces the world and the private affections which unite in holy bonds the inmates of the same house, — between the love of man and the love of kindred. The former is more generous, more disinterested, more divine; the latter, more vivid and more active. Between the two, and, indeed, in some degree involve ing both, love of country has ample scope, and is connected with some of the noblest enterprise and best character which give interest or value to history. The patriotism of history is mainly that of the soldier and the statesman. The patriot king, the patriot warrior, and the patriot orator have left no room for emulation. The annals of all countries exhibit bright names, – perfect models of patriotism in the field, in the senate, and on the throne. There is, however, one form of the virtue left for the New World. The PATRIOT CITIZEN is not delineated in his- tory. This character, in its full development, seems reserved for these shores. It is the appropriate pecu- liarity, I may say, the characteristic glory, of the new republic. In what other form has not love of coun- try been represented P. If we speak of art or elo- quence, they grew to perfection where they had their birth, under the genial skies of Greece. And they devoted themselves, with filial gratitude, to the land that gave them inspiration. They have made her name as imperishable as her mountains and as fra- grant as the airs that fan her islands. Valor was the Roman’s Virtue, and his country the idol to which he 62 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. consecrated it. Of patriotic policy and administration all history furnishes examples. But in no state has the citizen, in distinction from the soldier, the prince, the artist, and the orator, been so important a personage as here. Nowhere has a mere member of society had so wide a sphere of action. Nowhere has a single man been so powerful in private life. In no part of the world has so little depended on the ruler, and so much on the people. Never was it of so little con- sequence what the government is, and of so much consequence what the people are. Never before has the experiment been made to determine with how little power the ends of society may be attained, - how little we must submit to be controlled, and how far we are capable of governing ourselves. In proportion as the sphere of duty is thus extend- ed, and the responsibilities of action increased, the value of life is enhanced and its dignity raised. It seems to me to be one of the principal felicities of our lot, under the smiles of Heaven upon this goodly land, that a citizen is here so much of a man, - a plain citizen, without Reverend or Honorable, Colonel or Esquire, appended to his name. I object not to titles or distinctions. Let them be won and worn. Industry and virtue, in the ungenial soil of our world, need to be stimulated by all means. And the man who grudges his neighbour the reward of honorable studies or generous deeds is akin to him who has not soul enough to aspire to them. But office and honors are accidents of citizenship. As to be a man is more THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 63 than to be a citizen, so to be a citizen is more than to be in office. Place is an appendage of the man ; not the man an appendage of the place. It happened to me some years ago to be present at a council of the New York Indians, in the vicinity of Buffalo. On the way, I passed by the grave of the celebrated Red Jacket, and thought of Brandt and Corn-Planter. Great images passed before me. Great but rude minds seemed to be near me, – men of native nobleness, which the disadvantages of sav- age life could not suppress or conceal. Glimpses of lofty natures, ideas of the common greatness of our human being, occupied me. I was feeling what it is to be a man, and capable of such things, – capable, under better light, and with better advantages, of infinitely greater things. Suddenly an opening pre- sented itself in the half-cleared forest, and the house of Indian legislation appeared, proudly eminent among a score of huts. Within were arranged, with studied regard to rank and dignity, the fathers of the na- tion, the chiefs of the associated tribes, with hen’s feathers and red strings on their hats. And I have sometimes thought of a citizen of the republic, flat- tered with the hope of a petty office, or vain of the honors of a place or a title, as a MAN with a feather or a red string on his hat. There is a simple dignity, above all accidental dis- tinctions, in him who neither seeks office as an honor, nor shuns it as a duty. The condition is enviable which titles cannot dignify nor applause make hap- 64 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. pier. If this condition is ever realized, it must be in the AMERICAN CITIZEN, - the sensible, reasonable, in- dependent farmer, mechanic, or gentleman. Whether he breathe our wholesome mountain airs, or prefer the stir and fever of the city, he is the last man in the world to be haunted and tortured with the lust of office. He, whose heart, unquiet and dissatisfied, is yearning for something in the power of the people to bestow, is equally ignorant of his blessings and his dangers. Happy the man, who, with talents that cannot be obscured, yet courts retirement, and, con- scious of virtues that ennoble, covets neither station nor distinction; who quietly enjoys immunities for which he invokes no power but Heaven, and patiently and cheerfully fills a private station. And happy will it be for the country, if no false notions of respecta- bility, no foolish pride, no chimerical ideas of enjoy- ment, induce a more general discontent with the rewards of ordinary industry and the satisfactions of ordinary life. A dreamy impatience for promotion, restlessness amidst fountains of plenty, betrays feel- ings incapable of being satisfied in any state and with any measure of good. A nation of office-seekers can hardly be a nation of honest men; certainly not a quiet or happy nation. Mistakes prevail on this subject; and the fear is not unreasonable, that the very commonness and con- stancy of our richest privileges may cause them to be undervalued, whilst the glittering prizes of office allure and beguile us. THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 65 It can never be useless or unsuitable, therefore, to dwell on the sphere of private life. To the younger men, especially, assembled on this birthday of our liberties, I am desirous of presenting some considera- tions which may serve to place in a more attractive light the character and duties of the patriot citizen. You may be called to take office; if so, shrink not from responsibility. Responsibility imposed by duty is not ungrateful to noble minds. To be thought fit to sustain great interests, to be esteemed worthy of important trusts, is ground of rational satisfaction. To aim at the attainment of such character is a worthy ambition. And our history is not wanting in beautiful examples of patriotic service of the state. You may be summoned to fight your country’s battles. If so, you may not refuse to die. For there are higher objects than to live. And, dear as life justly is, there are occasions, on which the sacrifice of it is a duty. Patriot soldiers, in our own annals, show you how to conquer, and how to die. Most of us, however, have no such scenes in pros- pect. Our patriotism must be displayed in other ways. What we do for our country we shall be called to do in the common relation of citizens, the unpretending, noiseless offices of private life. Bear with me, therefore, a little, while I suggest some of the particular practical forms of that good-will which we all owe to our common country. The patriot citizen, then, will, for his country’s sake, make the most of himself. He is part of the 9 66 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. state. His talents and virtues go to make up the common mind. His intellect and spirit are so much of the intellect and spirit of the people. His private worth is an ornament of the national character; his dishonor, a stain upon his country; his guilt, a public wrong. Caring for the state, therefore, he will care for himself. Improving himself, he improves the com- munity. If he can do nothing else for his native land, he can at least recognize her claim to him. If he can add nothing else to her resources, he can add one more sound head and one more true heart. And that is much. A good member of society is a public treasure. He is counsel and strength. A right-mind- ed, well-principled citizen is more than a mine of gold. No riches can ennoble or preserve a corrupt and pusillanimous people; no power can enslave intel- ligent and virtuous men. They will be free in spite of tyrants, and great, though poor and few. The value of a great, good man may be measured by the rareness of the spectacle. He is not easily raised. He is of slow growth. The chances are against him. Strong downward tendencies are to be overcome, great victories must be achieved, before a character of real worth is formed, - a character fit for a patriot citizen to bring to the altar of his country. I can hardly imagine a more heroic purpose than he conceives, who, amid the wrecks of mind which cover all the Sea of life, – the ruins of character, more sad and more disheartening than the broken columns of THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 67 prostrate temples, or the melancholy remains of dilap- idated cities, – resolves in the depths of his heart, with the blessing of God, to be a wise and a good man. I find no enterprise in history more beautiful or more honorable to our nature. A young man of profound sensibilities, renouncing the pleasures of life, rebuking its follies, and aspiring, with resolute am- bition, to its highest ends, is an object of moral gran- deur. But when I think how often this resolution has been taken, and how often it has been maintained by men of no extraordinary capacity or advantages, I wonder it is not oftener taken; I wonder that every young man has not taken it. Let your country hope, my young friends, let our native State, distinguished by the enterprise and energy of the noble minds it has nurtured and sent forth from its bosom, let the State expect of you a manly intellect and an honest heart. Let the recollections of this day determine you to be citizens of whom no country would be ashamed ; men who respect themselves. Time is not wanting; opportunities wait for you; means are within your reach. The cultivation of all your powers is possible to you; education, in its truest sense, is practicable. Only resolve; begin; begin somewhere; begin now. Husband your resources; seize the fugitive moments. Open the eye and the ear; assume that any thing can be learned; doubt not that every thing can teach. Shrink not from the arduous; despise not the humble. Be not ashamed 68 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. to be ignorant, nor afraid to inquire. Months and years roll round faster than we think. And the thoughtful man, the patient cultivator of himself, is rich in knowledge and in merit before he is aware. And then think of the reward, – the consciousness of mind, the inward sense of a manly spirit, the feeling of moral dignity, - resources in our own nature beyond the reach of accident, out of the do- minion of power, a part of ourselves, independent of life, imperishable, immortal. Fortunate man, favored above the ordinary mercy of Heaven, who, in this free land, and in this clear, bright day, has life yet before him, and sees the way still open for him to eminence and happiness! The patriot citizen respects the government and laws of his country. He is not unmindful that a free government is sustained by public sentiment; and, of course, that general disrespect to authority and gen- eral disregard of law are the virtual abrogation of both. In a healthy state of society, the law, invisible, impalpable, impersonal, residing nowhere, having nei- ther voice nor substance, reigns with a gentle and unfelt dominion, descending upon us, and enriching us with its blessings, like the silent coming on of the seasons. But, when the public sentiment is corrupt- ed, when bad humors vitiate the public conscience, this mysterious influence ceases to be felt, — obedi- ence and the law disappear together, — society falls to pieces, or is subjected to an iron rule. Whatever, therefore, tends to weaken respect for THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 69 the magistrate or the law is so much done, in a free country, to unsettle the order of society. And a con- siderate friend of his country will speak of the public authorities with respect, and judge of them with can- dor. He will be careful in no wise to impair in the public mind the sacredness and obligation of the laws. A government like ours rests mainly on the confi- dence of man in man. Universal distrust would be fatal to it. And a prudent man will hesitate to foster a disposition, too prevalent already, to assume that men are not to be trusted; a disposition to impute public acts to the worst of motives, and to ascribe sinister designs to the best men. Suspicion and distrust are not natural to generous minds. An eye for minute faults and a little heart belong to the same man. A querulous, jealous spirit is commonly as unjust as it is uncomfortable. A society infected by it is as unworthy of liberty as it is unfit for it. There is no worse man in the state than he who, with great shrewdness and a plausible elo- quence, stands daily in the market and at the corners of the streets, to taint the places of concourse, and poison the air with foul aspersions of merit and au- thority. The patriot citizen will study the improvement of his country. Liberty is but a means. We contend for freedom, not that we may be free, but that we may freely pursue great ends and accomplish worthy objects. The patriot is not, therefore, satisfied with liberty; he prizes still more those ends of life which 70 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. give value to liberty, - the physical, intellectual, and moral objects which a free mind may, of right, pro- pose to itself. The man who loves his country desires its advance- ment, the development of its resources, the increase of its wealth and comforts, the elevation of its char- acter, its beauty, and the honor of its name. And the patriot citizen will labor and make sacrifices for these ends. He will not feel that his duty to the state is discharged by enjoying its protection, — that he pays his Alma Mater for her indulgence by being nursed at her bosom. He will look about him for occasions to show his sense of her favors by filial services. It is wonderful how few devise the good that is devised. It is mortifying to think how few do the good that is done. And yet the capacity and the enterprise requisite to usefulness are common; facili- ties multiply as we use them ; occasions increase as we look at them. I cannot be particular. A few examples will illustrate both our means and our opportunities of doing good. It is but a few years since the farmer, as soon as he had made an opening in the forest, and put in his first crop of wheat, set about erecting a house, two stories high, and large enough to hold his whole posterity. “The square room” and the kitchen were “done off”; a lodging-room or two made comfortable; the upper part, secured from the weather, used for a granary, and left for posterity to finish. The man who first departed from this extravagant style of building, and THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 71 put up a snug, white cottage, just large enough for him and “her,” all finished, inclosed with a neat fence, and ornamented with trees, did a service to New England which should not be forgotten while comfort dwells in her farm-houses and taste adorns her towns. He who so lately discovered that it is just as far round the bail of a kettle when it stands up as when it lies down, and applied the principle to our turnpike roads, is entitled to the thanks of man and beast. The kind citizen who says an encouraging word to fainting industry, or hesitating ambition, or tempted integrity, is a benefactor of his country. To intro- duce a new fruit or a new grain, a new instrument or a new mode of culture, does the state some service. The example of a neater husbandry, of more durable architecture, of more tasteful ornaments, of improved education, of rational enterprise, is not lost on the community. It is a public benefit to plant a tree by the road-side or on one’s own grounds. The hand is not busy to no purpose which rears a flower or trains a vine. It is a narrow spirit that calculates the prob- abilities of living to sit under our own vine and fig- tree. What matter is it, if we do not f Others will enjoy what we leave behind us. The children for whom our life is so much spent will think of us with kindness, when they succeed to the places we improve and beautify. The tree will cast a cooler shadow for being planted by a father's hand. The rose will be sweeter which a mother reared. We may die; and 72 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. children may not come into our places; not a drop of our blood may run in any man’s veins. But still our country will remain; our liberties, our schools, our arts, our fields, our houses, will survive us, and will bear the impress of our taste and our charities down to posterity. If every man were careful to do something directly for the public, what an aggregate of good this accu- mulation of blessings, grain by grain, would by and by present! If, in dividing his estate at his decease, or in his lifetime, each man admitted the communi- ty to a tenth or a hundredth share, an amount too small to be missed by his heirs, what changes would be gradually wrought around us! How many useful objects are yet unattained how many good institu- tions languish' And how natural would seem the wish of a considerate man, about to take a final leave of the beautiful earth, about to bid adieu for ever to his native spot, how natural the wish to leave behind him some slight testimony of filial regard for his pa- rent land, some visible memorial of his gratitude to the country that nurtured him in the infancy of his being, some durable monument of his attachment to his race To whom will it not be grateful, at the last, to think that the spot where he has lived will record his beneficence P To whom will it not be pleasant to have improved the house where he has worshipped, or to have ornamented the place of his last repose f Who, in his last review of life, can be insensible to the satisfaction of having done some- THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 73 thing, in his day, to promote knowledge and faith among men f There was born in a retired town in a neighbour- ing State, not many years ago, a man who, in the course of his education, said, with a resolute look, to an intimate friend, “Brother, you and I are little men; but, before we die, the world must feel our influence.” The bones of that young man rest in the bosom of the sea; but his prophecy was fulfilled. The name of SAMUEL J. MILLs is associated with the origin of the American Board of Foreign Missions, the American Bible Society, and the American Col- onization Society; and the charity of his great heart will distil, as the dew, upon all lands. A man bent on doing good finds good everywhere to be done, and means of doing it. His example is persuasive ; his taste is copied ; his enterprise is em- ulated. He cannot live wholly in vain. If this spirit of beneficence is sustained by extraordinary talent, or graced by learning, or dignified by authority, no spec- tacle is so beautiful, no character so enviable, among Iſlell, The patriot citizen regards with especial interest the moral habits and principles of society, -the prop- er elements of individual and national character. The external condition of a community, its arts, institutions, and laws, are objects of just concern; but its spirit is of infinitely greater moment. If this be sound and true, nothing in the outward forms of life can long resist it. Institutions, laws, arts, man- 10 74 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. ners, are created or remoulded by it. They are the natural manifestations of it. Before it the valleys rise and the mountains melt away. This spirit of society is what we study in history and in passing events. It lies behind the mere facts of life. Itself invisible and hard to define, it is the proper character of a people, and the true index to their destiny. To this spirit, therefore, the intelligent patriot looks with peculiar solicitude; its signs he notes with a watchful eye; its growth and development he studies to con- trol with the habitual feeling, that, whilst every thing else belongs to the mere outworks of society, what is done here is vital, -is putting the hand upon the springs of the political machine, casting salt into the fountains of social life. In this view, he will cherish the moral independence of men. It is a dangerous mistake to suppose that we are free because we are not manacled, nor driven about with the lash, nor sold in the market. There are worse tyrants, and more fatal to liberty, than monarchs, or parliaments, or planters. There are chains more galling to the spirit than are made of iron. There is a more humiliating servitude than any of the Pharaohs or the Caesars exacted. It is enough that the son of ill-fated Africa is tasked, and worked, and fed from his master’s crib like a brute. But this is not his chief misfortune. He might bear this, if it were all, and be a man still. Many a free- man has borne as much, and fared as hard. The worst of his miserable condition is, that, though ever THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. 75 so well fed, and ever so well clad, and ever so merci- fully treated, still he is a slave; the brand is on his soul; and the feeling kills the spirit of man within him. It corrupts the vital air ; it poisons the well- spring of life; all that is intellectual, spiritual, divine in his nature sinks and is lost in the animal and the earthly. Without the element of liberty, God never makes a man. And yet this servile feeling, this degrading spirit, is in many a republican’s bosom ; many a slave votes at the polls, deliberates in the legislature, and adminis- ters the justice of this great country. There is, therefore, work for the patriot now, just such as our fathers did, whose names we this day honor. There are still fetters to be broken ; men still wear the galling yoke. Another declaration of independence is to be made good; another throne to be assailed. For this spiritual warfare the patriot citizen will gird himself with the whole armor of God. He will not put off the harness, so long as there is a slave of appetite or lust in his native land. Happy the generation which shall keep the anniversary of this second emancipation | Happy the age that shall usher in with songs and triumphal processions the jubilee of our moral independenceſ I have one more topic only to touch. The spirit of liberty, though necessary to man, does not constitute him. Character implies more than freedom. The chief glory of our nature is moral. We fall below the beaverin instinct; we excel not the ant in indus- 76 THE PATRIOT CITIZEN. try; we are not more prudent than the bee. The fowls of heaven are as free as we. But all together do not make up our idea of humanity. Multiply brute intellect, and discipline it as we will, there is nothing spiritual about it; it wants the crown of intellectual being, — a moral nature, — the sense of duty, the feeling of responsibility, - the idea of God. It has no self-respect. It knows not faith in God. It sees no worth, no sublime sentiment, no lofty and pure passion in the universe. Creating power, and re- deeming love, truth, and grace, and glory, have, to these poor creatures of a day, no interest and no im- port. These ideas belong to us, and, whilst they give dignity and moment to our present life, ally us to higher beings, and connect us with other worlds. The true friend of his country will prize the high relations and immortal destinies of his countrymen. The patriot citizen will maintain and foster the insti- tutions of knowledge and religion, — the means which God has ordained for reforming and sanctifying the character of man, – the sources of all noble senti- ments, – the nurse of all true principles. He will be a friend of education. Slight causes will not alienate him from the house of his God. Light occasions will not estrange him from the sympathies of good men. Overlooking all minor differences, and rising above vulgar prejudices, he will stand on the great principles of reason and revelation; and, shoulder to shoulder with all who regard duty and fear God, will contend earnestly for truth and piety in the world. // A D D R E S S DELIVERED BEFORE THE RAILROAD CONVENTION, AT LEBANON, N. H., OCTOBER 10, 1843. WE have come together to consider a great public work. And I have consented to address my neigh- bours and fellow-citizens upon the subject, not so much with the hope of being able to instruct you, as from the desire to manifest, on my own part, and, I may presume to add, in behalf of the profession and the College to which I belong, the deep interest which we all feel in the improvement of the State. We would not be behind any class of men in our concern for the common good. From mere party strife, from all personal contests, we would keep aloof. But in the real business of the community, in the improve- ment of the soil, in the advancement of the arts, in the increase of all our facilities of production and intercourse, we are not uninterested. The prosperi- ty of the State, in these respects, and in all respects, is our prosperity. The honor of New Hampshire is our honor. These hills and valleys are our home, the home of our ancestors, and of our children. The industry, which labors to add to its comforts, toils for 78 ADDRESS BEFORE THE us; the taste, which studies to adorn it, studies for us; the enterprise, which aspires in any way, and by whatever means, to raise the State to importance and respectability in the Union, reflects some portion of its own glory upon us. And whilst, as ministers of religion and as scholars, we shun all participation in the warfare of mere politicians, I see not how, as Christians and patriots, we can persuade ourselves to look with indifference upon the course of our public affairs, or the means of public prosperity and happi- Il CSS. The question of a railroad from the capital of the State to Connecticut River is, in some sort, a new question. The first subject of inquiry among us, in regard to this great modern improvement, was, whether the thing was practicable, – whether a road could be made over the mountains, and through the marshes, and across the gulfs. The next question was, whether, if in itself practicable, means could be found to build it, -whether capitalists would consent to invest their money in the undertaking. Time and experiments have settled both these questions. And the work of threading the valleys, skimming the waters, and piercing the hills, where we cannot get round nor over them, is going on in every part of the land. In the mean time, a new question has arisen in New Hampshire. The thing is admitted to be pos- sible ; money, in abundance, is understood to be ready and waiting to be invested. The engineer is RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 79 sanguine of success. All that is wanted is room to make a road. Nobody is asked to pay any thing for it; nobody will be obliged to travel on it. Give us, say the capitalists, a place to lay our rails; allow us to buy land enough for a track along the intervals of the Merrimack, and through the woods that overhang the Blackwater and the Mascomy; let any body of indifferent men fix the price ; let the legislature deter- mine, if they will, the rates of transportation, and the liabilities of the company. Only give us a charter; enable us to protect ourselves from extortion, and we ask no more ; a road shall be made. Concord shall be taken up and carried ten hours towards the setting sun. The capital of the State shall be virtually trans- ferred from the banks of the Merrimack to the banks of the Connecticut; or rather, shall be washed on the east, as it now is, by the one, and on the west by the other. The fertile intervals of these beautiful New Hampshire streams shall unite; the intervening mountains shall disappear; the verdant edges of the meadows shall knit together; and these glad rivers flow on, side by side, towards the sea. And what do the people of New Hampshire say? Why, they say, We grant you, all this can be done ; we see it has been done. But we doubt if it ought to be done. We are beginning to question whether, after all, a railroad is a public benefit; and whether, be it such or not, it is a case that calls for any farther legislation. The present laws grant all the powers and privileges to individuals and corporations which law ought ever 80 ADDRESS BEFORE THE to grant. If men wish to make a road, they must buy the land of its owners, as we buy land for other purposes, that is, as we and the owners can agree. Two questions, then, appear to cover the whole subject. These questions we have met to discuss. Is it desirable to have a road And ought we to expect from the legislature a charter with the usual powers ? These questions, I hope, may be consider- ed without involving party principles or party preju- dices. In fact, they are not now party questions. They will be investigated and determined, I trust, here and elsewhere, upon general grounds, wholly ir- respective of political distinctions and political jeal- ousies. That it will be so we are encouraged to hope by the fact, that eminent men, who, in party strifes, have been at variance, are acting together here ; and men, who have acted together in general politics, are here divided. The first question is, whether the road proposed is really to be desired. Is it best, on the whole, to ex- tend this mode of transportation Is it a patriotic enterprise 2 If the road could be made by magic, ought we to wish it done? The question admits of an answer upon different grounds, – general and local. Upon general principles, it is clear that whatever facilitates transportation is, so far, a public good. Whatever diminishes the expense, in money, or in time (which, in effect, is the same thing, for time is money), whatever diminishes the expense of trans- RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 81 portation, enriches the community. Transportation is an item of cost in production; it is just so much add- ed to the value and expense of a product as it costs to carry that product from the place of its original creation to the place of its ultimate use. In some things, it is a trifling expense; in some, it bears a great proportion to the primitive value of the product; others derive their whole value from the cost of trans- ferring them from the place where they are found, and cost nothing, to the place where they are wanted. Still other things, of real use, will not bear to be transported, because the expense of transportation exceeds their utility. Transportation, then, is really a part of the cost of production. And the true ques- tion is, whether a diminution of the cost of produc- tion, or, in other words, a decrease of the price of things, is a public gain. The thing is the same, an- swers the same ends, supplies the same wants. Is it a benefit to be able to procure it cheaper than we have done P. The question admits of but one answer. Undoubtedly, the more easily, that is, the cheaper, we obtain the objects of pursuit, the more prosper- ous and happy is our condition, the richer we become; and, so far as any particular product is concerned, it would be the perfection of life, the acme of wealth, to be able to procure it for nothing. But the benefit never ends here. The cheapening of one comfort reduces the cost of every other. The reduction of the price of corn occasions a reduction in the price of pork, and of every thing else to the 11 82 ADDRESS BEFORE THE production of which corn, more or less remotely, con- tributes. The diminution in the price of cotton di- minishes the price of every product of labor, because it enables the laborer to clothe himself and his family so much the cheaper, and, therefore, to maintain him- self for so much less. The same is true of every other product. Consequently, any reduction effected in the cost of any necessary or convenience of life proportionally lessens the expense of every other ne- cessary and convenience. This is true upon a small scale, and equally true upon a large scale. Every improvement, wherever made, among nations holding intercourse with each other, — and it is emphatically true of different parts of the same nation, — every such improvement ulti- mately results in the common benefit of the whole. Every product enters into and forms a part of the el- ements of every other product. It is true, the first effect may be to deprive somebody of his gains, and, perhaps, throw him out of business. If so, he has but to change that business, and seek new gains in new ways. The invention of printing threw out of employment whole monasteries of monks, who had lived by transcribing books. The immediate conse- quence was disappointment and distress to all who depended upon writing for a livelihood. They attrib- uted the invention to an evil spirit, and persecuted the inventor. The result, however, is, that a book, which, before, had cost pounds, is now procured for as many pence; all who read before now read infin- - RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 83 itely more ; and multitudes, from whom books had been sealed up, are admitted to the vast treasures of knowledge. Before the improvements in the manu- facture of cotton in Europe and America, we paid to the India merchant more for a single yard than we now pay for cloth, of a better quality, for a pair of shirts. The laborer in India, who wrought for the foreign market, has indeed lost his trade, and turned to something else to earn his bread ; but the conse- quence is, that every man and woman and child, among civilized nations, enjoys as an ordinary com- fort what was once an expensive luxury. Every improvement in the production of the raw material, or in the process of manufacture, or in the facilities of commerce, thus resulting in more or less of temporary calamity, has ultimately increased the means and augmented the happiness of society. Whatever may have been the immediate and local consequence, the ultimate and general result is ne- cessarily good, - enlarging the resources of nations, and multiplying the comforts of individuals. Can anything be plainer than that the cheapness of any element of production cheapens products them- selves? that the cheapness of one product cheapens all the products to which, as material, or as food and clothing for the operator, it in any way contributes ? If, with a given amount of capital and industry, we this year procure a given amount of comforts, and with the same amount of capital and industry next year succeed in doubling the amount of comforts pro- 84 ADDRESS BEFORE THE cured, is it not demonstrated that we are just so much better off, so much richer And must not every change in agriculture, or manufactures, or commerce, which increases the produce from the same means, in that proportion benefit us, and, in benefiting us, ben- efit all connected with us, – the whole world Is there any getting away from the conclusion ? And is it not just as applicable to transportation as to any other part of the cost of human products This is the general view of the matter, — the view which we take of it, not as inhabitants of a town, or a state, or a nation; but as men, as philanthropists. We ought not to be satisfied with any thing narrower in principle, or less generous in practice. It is cer-. tainly time we had enlarged our comprehension of life to something more than the limited wants and inter- ests of neighbourhoods and families and individuals. Even if New Hampshire were called upon to sacrifice something to New England, or New England to sacri- fice something to the Union, we should be unworthy of our age, unworthy of our fathers, if we could not make the sacrifice. No sacrifice, however, in the present instance, is required. Our own sectional and personal interests coincide with the most enlarged public spirit. A rail- road from the capital to this river, and onward to the Western waters, is important, indispensable, to our own prosperity. It is so in every comprehensive view that can be taken of it. A railroad is of the nature of any other road. RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 85 Would the people be content to go back to the high- ways of the last century F Would they consent to drag along, with a pair of horses and half a ton of produce, three or four weary days to Concord? Are we not benefited by improved roads and permanent bridges? We now pay twenty cents a hundred for transportation from Boston to Concord, a distance of more than sixty miles; and sixty cents a hundred for transportation from Concord to Hanover, a distance of little more than fifty miles. Would it be no gain to have this sixty cents reduced to sixteen, to say noth- ing of the saving in wear and tear of freight? Sup- pose the saving to be only forty cents per hundred; that is eight dollars per ton. One of our largest teams carries eight tons; on an average, they carry five tons. Here are forty dollars saved on each team. If one such team passes each way daily, the saving is, for three hundred days in the year, twenty-four thousand dollars. In fact, not less than four such teams daily pass the bridge at the mouth of White River; one, at least, between Hanover and this vil- lage ; and probably not less than two upon the Graf- ton turnpike to and from Canaan; — making, in all, seven teams, of five tons each, daily pursuing this route. On these seven teams, a saving of eight dol- lars per ton would be eighty-four thousand dollars in a year. To this is to be added the great amount saved on the vast number of smaller teams continual- ly passing the same way, and especially in winter. Is it not within bounds to estimate the whole saving 86 ADDRESS BEFORE THE at a hundred thousand dollars Twenty-five thou- sand dollars, at a low estimate, would be saved in the fare of passengers. This immense sum of a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars silently added, every year, to our country capital, who can calculate the ul- timate effects in all the departments of industry? And, when it is considered that the facility and cheapness of travelling rapidly increases the amount of travelling, and that the use of our water-power would, at once, add largely to the amount of trans- portation, must not the actual saving greatly exceed these estimates ? Other methods of calculation lead us to similar results. There are annually brought into Hanover twenty- five thousand dollars’ worth of flour, or more than four thousand barrels. A saving of forty cents on a hun- dred is eighty cents on a barrel, or three thousand two hundred dollars a year, – just about the amount of our whole tax-bill. Again; in 1836, it was ascertained and reported to a convention at Windsor, that the town of Derby, in Vermont, with fourteen hundred inhabitants, exported and imported two hundred tons annually; Barnet, with sixteen hundred inhabitants, three hundred and seventy tons; Lyndon, with eighteen hundred inhab- itants, three hundred tons; and other towns in nearly the same proportion; making about four hundred and fifty tons to every twenty-five hundred inhabitants. This would give to Lebanon a saving of more than twenty-five hundred dollars; to Hanover a saving of RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 87 more than thirty-five hundred dollars. By the large towns, it was supposed, a larger proportion was ex- ported and imported. The village of Bradford re- ported fifteen hundred tons; and Strafford, from one establishment, the copperas works, twenty-two hun- dred tons. To all this is to be added an indefinite amount of income from the transportation of articles now excluded from market by the expense of the car- riage, or by their exposure to destruction on the way. The effect of the road upon the value of real estate is an important item in the estimate. The nearer we get to Boston, the more valuable land is, because nearer to market. The improvement of a road is precisely the same, in effect, as a diminution of dis- tance. If we could fly, and carry our products and our merchandise with us on the wings of the wind, an acre of land here would be worth just as much as an acre of land in Cambridge or Roxbury. It is the distance from the centre that makes all the difference. And distance is nothing, if it cost nothing to get over it ; it is little, exactly in proportion to the facility of getting over it. Another item of saving would be in the mainten- ance of public roads. The highway tax is a great tax. There is no other equal to it. On the great thoroughfares, cut up and damaged by heavy teams, it is a very great tax. This would be reduced, im- mediately and sensibly, by the transference of all heavy carriage from the ordinary roads to the railroad. It would be an annual and perpetual reduction, and would be felt by all classes in the commnnity. 88 ADDRESS BEFORE THE An important saving, one of much moment to a grazing country, like New England, would be realized in getting our beef and mutton, our poultry, our but- ter and cheese, to market in time, and without injury or waste. The two former especially, beef and mut- ton, now driven upon the hoof, with no little risk, and no little depreciation of quality, would be taken down alive in a single day, without shrinking in weight, and in perfect order. But one of the principal advantages remains to be noticed,—the value which would be immediately giv- en to the immense water-power of all this part of New England. The comparative cheapness of agri- cultural products, of the material for building, and of fuel, our mountains of useful and ornamental minerals, and our healthful sites for manufacturing villages, pre- sent altogether singular inducements to the capitalist to invest in establishments upon our waters; and could not fail, in time, to line our romantic river and its tributaries with airy, industrious, and intelligent towns. Each of these towns would become a centre of trade to the surrounding country, a little home market, now so much needed, as a vent for the thou- sand minute, but, in the whole, considerable, articles of domestic production, which never find their way to the distant ports. The mouth of White River, under the influence of a railroad, is destined to be a city. With the most eligible, the most remarkable, water-power in all this part of New England, and a location exceeded by no RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 89 other for health and beauty, all it wants is to be brought within four hours of Boston, to make it inev- itably a great manufacturing village. The same is true of East Lebanon. Nature has made you there an inexhaustible mill-pond; dropping the waters of your beautiful lake from level to level, over the solid rock, for nearly ten miles from the outlet. So it is, also, on the other side of the Connecticut. The White River is a perpetual series of mill-seats, up to the very mountains, freshened and made green by its living springs. These are some of the pecuniary blessings suspend- ed upon the success of the friends of the proposed road. There are blessings of another sort, I will not say of equal, but of great moment. What is money good for, but for the comforts and enjoyments which it will buy ; It is not an end, but a means, –a means of personal or social good, -a means of gratifying the natural affections, innocent propensities, and benevo- lent impulses of men. And is nothing gained by be- ing brought near to those we love or venerate 2 Is it nothing for the son to be removed, with all he has, to within sight of his early home, of the scenes of his youth, of the resting-place of his ancestors nothing for decrepit age to be borne at will, and for a trifling expense, and without fatigue or hazard, over the ever lengthening hundreds of miles that have separated from its embrace the only living ones it never ceases to yearn after P One of the most real, most substan- 12 * 90 ADDRESS BEFORE THE tial, most humanizing of all the advantages of this great modern facility for travelling appears to me to be the obvious and incalculable amount which it di- rectly contributes to the happiness of social life, the happiness of kindred, of fond and blissful intercourse among those separated by the duties of life, but still united in interest and affection, in moral ties and im- mortal hopes. Against these manifest advantages what evils are to be offset: “Why, some score of innkeepers will lose their custom.” Undoubtedly; and I am sorry for them. But they have had their day, and a long one ; and so had the monks, who lived by writing, till printing was invented. I pity the good men ; but their losses were more than made up in the public gain. The patient teamster, too, will no longer plod his weary way to market, and must mortify the strange passion, which a man so soon acquires, for being for ever on the road. We would fain hope he has grown already rich enough to retire. And his team, the noble horse, good brute, may he live to wonder and laugh, many a summer's day, upon the shady hill-side, as the fiery-mettled, brazen-sided, iron- sinewed locomotive goes puffing by. A more serious objection is, that we already bring too much into the country, - more than we can pay for, − and are, consequently, always in debt to the cities; and that to increase the facility of transporta- tion would be to increase this over-importation and this indebtedness. RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 9| To this argument I reply, in the first place, that the less the transportation of our products costs, the more they will pay of our debt, when they reach the city. Secondly, the less the transportation costs, the larger will be the number of our products that will bear to be transported. Thirdly, a large part of all we bring from the cities is for the purpose of reproduction in the country, - as flour, salt, hides, iron, plaster, machinery, necessary clothing, fish, tools, almost all our heavy articles. These things are indispensable to our industry, agri- cultural and manufacturing. The cheaper they all come to us, the less it costs to produce for our own consumption and for the market; and, of course, so much the more we shall have to pay our city debt with. Again; the debt itself may be a privilege, a posi- tive advantage. It is a form of loan ; just the same thing as hiring so much city capital. Capital and labor are the elements of all production. When cap- ital is plenty, laborers are wanted to work it. The want of laborers creates demand for them; and in- creased demand raises the price; so that, in fact, the mere laborer, as well as the trader, is benefited by this very debt to the city. This debt is a safe one. It cannot, on the whole, increase beyond our ability to pay, -that is, it is limited by its utility. When we can no longer afford to hire money, money will not be loaned to us; when it ceases to be profitable for the country to obtain credit in the town, neither party 92 ADDRESS BEFORE THE will any longer consent to it. The city will not feel safe in trusting, and the country will not wish to be trusted. Again ; the principle of this objection goes too far. It runs equally against all roads. On the same ground, the more difficult it is to get to town, the better. And the original method of traversing the woods by marked trees would be preferable to good roads. Finally; the objection is anti-republican. It as- sumes that the people are not the best judges of their own interests, and the best directers of their own trade and industry. They undertake to buy what they want, and where they can buy to best advantage, and as cheap as possible. Is there any safer or better policy than to leave them to do so, and help them to do so P But there is a yet weightier objection to the road, namely, that, passing through the length of the State, it will deprive us of our own home market. The Western road has, it is said, wellnigh driven our products from the cities; this will bring the Western products to undersell us at our own doors; Western corn and Western beef and pork and butter and cheese will be brought from Boston to every village on the line of the road, and sold for less than we can raise them for in this cold and hard country; and thus the sale of our own products is likely to be abso- lutely annihilated, land depreciated, and business de- pressed. RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 93 It must be admitted that a soil naturally sterile cannot, in all respects, compete with one naturally rich. New England must suffer, in this respect, in comparison with the Western States, with or without railroads. In point of fact, however, without a road, and against the competition of the Western country with a road, we are still carrying our produce to market. We obtain for it, it is true, a reduced price, but yet a price not at all more reduced than are the prices of the merchandise, tools, clothing, machinery, &c., which we receive in pay; a price decidedly, in our most important products, above the price paid in the same market for corresponding Western products. Western butter brings eight cents; our own, at the same time, commanding, in some cases, twenty-five or thirty cents. Western lard and pork are selling for almost nothing; and yet our own are preferred at a very reasonable price. Is it not plain, that, if the expense of transportation be reduced, we shall be the gainers, and not the West- ern people * For the few articles with which they may be enabled to supply us bear no proportion, in amount, to what of other things we must send and bring home on the same road. We are now depend- ent on the West and South for our flour. All the wool of Vermont, it has been said on high authority, does not pay for the flour she imports; the same, and more, must be true of New Hampshire. What we should gain in the diminished transportation of this one ar- 94. ADDRESS BEFORE THE ticle of flour would counterbalance all we should lose by the influx of other Western products now excluded by the expense of carriage. It is to be considered, in this connection, that the part of our agricultural products destined for sale is a very small proportion of the entire amount. We consume vastly more than we sell. All this we shall raise the cheaper for the road; because every thing necessary to be used in the raising of it, and brought from the cities, such as sugar, tea, coffee, fish, cloths, tools, salt, plaster, flour, and furniture, comes the cheaper to us for the road. It is to be observed, also, that, even now, our American products find a market over the sea, and are, doubtless, in no long time, destined to supply an immense foreign demand, which must tend to keep up their value everywhere at home. But suppose the worst, —suppose, for a moment, the agriculture of New Hampshire in some degree dis- couraged by our being brought so much nearer to the great granaries of the West,--is agriculture our only resource P Is it our natural, much more our exclusive, pursuit? Are we not rather by position and local advantages a manufacturing people? Is it not obvi- ously our interest to husband our natural resources by applying ourselves to pursuits for which our climate and physical peculiarities eminently fit us It is vain to war against nature. If the mulberry will not grow here, we cannot feed the silkworm. If wheat is an uncertain crop in our soil, we must not make it our main dependence. If, after raising enough of RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 95 the fruits of our climate for our own use, we can do something else better than to raise more of the same for exportation, why, let us do that something else. We have ingenuity, versatility, enterprise enough. And there is no want of objects. In Connecticut, the wheat crop was found to fail for a series of years; it was ascertained that the cause was exhaustion of an important element of the soil. The people were at their wits' end to devise ways to live. Immediately a thousand little manufactories were seen springing up all over the State. Carriages of all kinds were supplied for the West and the South; pins produced so cheap as to exclude all others from the market; clocks manufactured for England, Russia, Sweden, India, and China; locks, buttons, baskets, hooks and eyes, every manner of thing under the sun, were produced, transported, vended all over the world. Villages sprang up here and there, and wealth was accumulated with rapidity. A sort of domestic manufacture commenced every- where ; work in horn and in ivory, in straw and in oak, in lead and in gold. Men learned to make a brass wheel for a clock, at a single blow of a simple tool; to make a whole brass clock, warranted to keep good time, for a dollar and a half. A card is made by a single operation, — the wire cut, bent, inserted, clinched, and a perfect card turned out in the twink- ling of an eye. A comb-factory, working up the bits of bone and ivory too small for a comb into buttons, scrapes together the bits too small for a button, and 96 ADDRESS BEFORE THE sells them in New York, at ninepence a pound, for blanc-manger! Every brook has a water-wheel in it. Men who can find nothing better to do make a very good living by turning wooden lather-boxes and grind- ing grit for razor-strops. What do such a people care for competition P I have no fear for New Hampshire. If we cannot grow wheat, we can grow corn and potatoes. If we cannot export beef and mutton, we can export rock and ice. And when we cease to export every thing else, we will not cease to export men, - men whom the land shall honor, −and to send them off, quick and far. At any rate, we will not deny ourselves a good road, for fear that other people should derive some advantage from using it. We will not cut ourselves off from all respectable society, because we have not force of character enough to appear well in it. If we cannot maintain our position on the open field of generous and manly conflict, let us give up the State, and go off in a body to Iowa or Oregon; let it never be said that New Hampshire can live only within a Chinese wall, that shuts out the enter- prise and prohibits the intercourse of the rest of the world. I have allowed myself little room to consider the second question proposed, - Whether a charter, with the usual powers, ought to be asked for, to enable us to construct such a road. The subject of charter-rights and monopolies is undoubtedly a most delicate and difficult one. Pru- RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 97 dence, great caution, becomes the legislature in grant- ing them. Yet it seems essential to the very ends of government that it should be allowed a degree of discretionary power in reference to such privileges. The public good requires, sometimes, the sacrifice of private rights. Indeed, all government, so far as it extends, implies this. Whatever power government has is so much power taken from the subjects of government, and for the purposes of government. A tax is an encroachment on private rights, – the right of property. Penalties are interferences with per- sonal rights. These are indispensable to the very existence of government. And why thus maintain government P Why, but for the ends of government, the good which government is capable of effecting, the public good, the order and prosperity of the community ? It is for these objects that individual privileges and rights are yielded up or taken away. A portion of my property is taken from me to sup- port this government, — to defend it when endan- gered, and to give it efficiency at all times. That is, I am taxed, and may be obliged to do military duty, I may be called to actual military service, I may be compelled to abandon my pursuits and expose my life itself, for the public good. All this is well under- stood. It is all admitted to be right and proper, necessary to the very ends of government. I am also obliged to pay for the maintenance of the poor, for the support of Schools, for the erection of public buildings, for the opening and improvement of public 13 98 ADDRESS BEFORE THE highways. All this is equally well understood, and universally consented to ; not directly for the pres- ervation of the government, but for the convenience, the accommodation, the general benefit of the people. The public good, in such cases, is held by us all to justify the compulsory taking of individual property for public uses. Indeed, if such infringement of pri- vate rights is wrong and unjustifiable, if government is not competent to it, then is government shorn of its power; it is annihilated; there can be no such thing as government. But on the principle involved in all these acts of government, how is it possible to doubt that the leg- islature may lay out a road over any man’s land, for obvious public ends : If the purposes of government require me to yield up a portion of my income in the form of a tax, why may not these same purposes of government require me to part with a portion of my land P. If I may, for the common benefit, be com- pelled to give up my life even, shall I be allowed to place my foot on an acre of the common soil and say to the government, “This is mine, – mine beyond the control of the very government which gives me a title to it, — mine against the well-being and happiness of the whole body politic”? Certainly no reasonable man can go so far. The rights of individuals are material; they are sacred. This is the general doctrine. It is funda- mental in free governments. But, then, have not the public rights, as well as individuals: Is the commu- RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 99 nity nobody, nothing? Among the rights of individ- uals is the right to the aid of the government, — the common arm, -in doing what individuals, unaided, cannot do. And has not the government power to afford this aid P. Most certainly; it is the proper office of government, the very end for which it was instituted. In the exercise of this power, those who administer the government are responsible to the people, and are bound to use their best discretion. It is a power incident to the social state. It is assumed that it will be wisely exercised. There is no reason to doubt, that, in the long run, it will be so. Our legislators may be presumed to be from among our ablest, most sensible, and most trustworthy citizens. As matter of fact, they generally are so. Let us, then, entertain no idle fears of abuse of power. Let us not cripple and enfeeble the arm of government, lest, with the ability to do good, it should misuse that ability and do evil. There is an extreme of distrust, as well as of confidence. There is danger from too little power, no less than from too much. We may unreasonably confine the sphere of authority, and abridge the good influences of legislation. It seems to me, there is a disposition to do so in this instance. All wanton interference with personal rights should be discounte- nanced and condemned. But if the public conven- ience require a new road, and this road must be made across my land, shall I be suffered to speculate out of the community, or to insist on my legal ownership, 100 ADDRESS BEFORE THE against the manifest advantage of the whole public P Is there no way to meet such an obstacle to the gen- eral prosperity ? There must certainly be a right somewhere to subject individual cupidity to the com- mon weal; there must be in society power to effect the ends of society, - to secure, on the whole, the greatest attainable amount of individual prosperity, which is, in other words, the public prosperity. Is it objected that the general doctrine here laid down does not apply in this case, inasmuch as the legislation proposed is expected to benefit not the public, but the petitioners, the corporation, and that the grant of authority to take land is but a grant of authority to take from individuals for the benefit of individuals? The answer is, that the reason alleged for the grant of power is not the private advantage of the corporation, but the public accommodation. The road will be as much a public benefit, as if the public were to own it. The public must pay interest on the capital, in other words, must pay toll on the road, if they make it and own it themselves. They have no more to pay, if, under proper regulations, . individuals own the road. At the same time, the * public enjoy the use of private capital m erecting public works. Whoever chooses to invest his money | in them has opportunity to purchase stock; those who have no surplus capital thus to invest have, neverthe- less, all the use of the public works, at a fair rate, without having contributed towards their erection capital which they could not well spare. RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 101 If a public use may justify the taking of private property, in case of necessity, - and this is all that is pretended,—suppose the State make the road and hire the money, the interest must be paid in the form of toll or a tax, and the road be superintended and maintained at the public expense. To relieve the State of this care and risk, a company proposes to give the public every advantage of such a road, and probably cheaper than the State could make and maintain it. Who is any loser ; Have we not in fact gained, by being saved the necessity of taking our own capital from our own business, and, at the same time, avoided all the hazards of maladministra- tion and dishonesty in the public agents? In every view, therefore, which I am able to take of this great work, whether I look at it upon the most general principles, or with reference to our own more immediate interests, and the true spirit of re- publican legislation, there seems to me but one con- clusion. Is it not a rational project? Is it not a wise and patriotic undertaking? It cannot but tend to lessen the disadvantages of our local position in reference to the great markets of the world. It will inevitably raise the value of our real estate; will excite to the production of articles for which we have now no market; will save immense sums now expended in transportation; and, by adding to the rapidity and comfort of travelling, will add to the happiness of all this portion of the country. It is one of those public improvements which go 102 ADDRESS BEFORE THE to attach the people to their native State, and to check the disposition, already too much encouraged in the old States, to seek a better soil and brighter prospects in the boundless and romantic West. The worst feature of this emigration is, that it carries away our most enterprising young men, young men of enlarged views, of strong powers, of high aims, and often with small capitals, rendered doubly valua- ble to themselves and the community, because accu- mulated by their own industry, and therefore pledges of yet greater success and usefulness in maturer life. This is one of those occasions on which we have all a common interest, — the farmer, the mechanic, the student, the divine, – the man of leisure and the laborer, — the capitalist and the poor man. What- ever adds to the real prosperity of the business por- tions of society is friendly to all portions. No class of citizens is wholly unaffected by the enterprise and activity of any other class. Least of all are they whose peculiar business it is to study the improve- ment of the public morals and intelligence. Educa- tion, mental and moral, depends not wholly upon schools and the pulpit. The legislator is a school- master and a priest; the law is a public teacher. Government silently acts upon us, for good or evil, from infancy to age, from high to low. Where large views and noble principles mark the action of public men, where justice is faithfully administered, there the legislature and the courts of law are coworkers with the pulpit and the schools. But illiberal legis- RAILROAD CONVENTION AT LEBANON. 103 lation, unequal, unjust, tyrannical, or timid and time- serving political action never fails to exert an un- wholesome and degrading influence upon the public character. Temptations are held out by it to fraud and cunning, to meanness and ambition. Intelli- gence, public spirit, high honor, all moral greatness, is rebuked. Success and respectability come to be as- sociated, in men’s minds, with littleness and low arts. It is equally true, though it may not be so obvious, that the improvement of the common arts of life, the melioration of the soil, new facilities of wealth and personal advancement, better modes of production and transportation, all favor the great interests of education and religion, all foster intelligence and good feeling. Adversity hath its uses, “sweet and necessary”; but it hath its evils too. Times of general suffering are times of great immoralities. Embarrassment and want, or fear of want and of disgrace, venture upon bold efforts for relief. Em- bezzlement, defalcation, forgery, suicide, dishonesty and wickedness in their myriad forms, are the des- perate resort of tried and over-tempted humanity. Poverty, felt or feared, exhausts the means of educa- tion, and dries up the charities of the heart. Nothing is so reckless, nothing so cruel, as want. Nothing is so unfriendly to the kindly influence of truth, or of mercy itself, as the sourness and distrust, the envy and recrimination, of a defeated, indebted, tortured people. Go, build a college anywhere, but where the young can find nothing else to do but to go to 104. ADDRESS AT LEBANON. college. You may as well nourish a plant in the desert, as cultivate good learning in a poor country. It flourishes only where great objects and large enter- prises call for cultivated intellects and liberal endow- ments, where high character and strong minds are wanted to meet the demands of society. An extend- ing commerce, advancing arts, prosperous industry in any department of life, give vitality to education, elevate its tone, and extend its sphere. And as for religion, give me a parish, not where palsied industry lies dumb and deaf; not where baf- fled enterprise frets and stings itself to madness; not where uncertainty hangs over every pursuit, and hope, drooping and broken, is crawling into mortified obscu- rity ; but rather, much rather, where prosperous labor sheds its cheerful light, and aspiring enterprise, weav- ing often, it is true, dreams of extravagance and folly, is yet nourishing sturdy virtues, which, if not them- selves of the family of the Christian graces, are cous- ins german to them all. A D D R E S S DELIVERED BEFORE THE RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONT- PELIER, VERMONT, JANUARY 8, 1844. THE subject of railroads, though not new, has not been much discussed in our community. The feeling of wonder, with which we all looked upon the first experiments in this seemingly magical and perilous mode of travelling, has been followed by a feeling of yet greater wonder, to find that a country so deeply furrowed by impetuous rivers, so thrown up into mountains that pierce the clouds, is, nevertheless, almost as passable, in every direction, as a prairie. The arrival or departure of a car still attracts a crowd of wondering spectators; to take a seat in one has still something of adventure in it; the very cattle on the hills start off, alarmed, as it flies by. Though somewhat familiar to us, therefore, the sub- ject has hitherto presented itself chiefly as a phenom- enon, — a miracle of art, — a striking illustration at once of the powers of man, and of the provisions of Heaven for their expansion in the New World. The actual and ultimate effects of this improvement in the mode of conveyance upon the condition of the 14, 106 ADDRESS BEFORE THE country have been too little considered to lead to any intelligent and uniform public opinion. Indeed, it requires a good deal of attention, more than most of us are able to give to any thing beyond the sphere of our daily duties, to form any consistent and com- prehensive idea of these effects. The complicated operations of an active community are not easily un- derstood. The greatest mistakes are constantly made in reference to them, by very sensible and reflecting men. Scarcely an act of legislation of any impor- tance can be said to be fully understood, in all its bearings and consequences, by the wisest politicians. Nothing is more common in history than to find both the hopes and fears of sagacious and honest men disappointed; nothing more instructive than to see how often systems of public policy, which have been pursued with enthusiastic confidence, are, at last, dis- avowed and condemned by their advocates. We are taught, by such examples, the danger of relying on hasty and partial views of public measures, and the importance of patient consideration in forming our opinion of public enterprises. Since the attention of our community has been called to the subject of a great Northern railroad, to connect the capital of New England with the Cana- das, large portions of the people have been disposed to question the utility of railroads altogether, and par- ticularly in New England. The construction of such roads is proposed as a public benefit; the community are called upon to RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 107 engage in the enterprise, and capitalists are solicited to subscribe for stock. Now, undoubtedly, the bur- den of proof rests upon the advocates of the under- taking. And what have we to say? We have to say, that, the easier and cheaper our modes of con- veyance are, the better it is for the country. We possess a vast territory, extending through many degrees of latitude, and affording the peculiar products of almost every climate. In one part of the land flourish the cane and the rice plant and the cotton plant; in another, maize and wheat; in an- other, are grown timber and wool. In different por- tions are found distributed the various minerals valued for use or ornament. On the coast, the fisheries are carried on ; in the interior, the fruits of the earth are gathered. From the ports, the harvests of the sea are diffused among the millions who consume them in the heart of the land;— to these same ports are brought, in return, the surplus products of these mil- lions, to be thence conveyed to other quarters of the world. Not a ship is launched which is not con- structed of materials brought together by commerce. The ribs may have come from the oak forests of Car- olina; the masts, from the mountains of Maine ; the sails been woven from the hemp of Tennessee; the anchors and screws manufactured in Massachusetts, from iron dug out of the bosom of Pennsylvania; and the copper mined on the shores of Lake Superior. Not a house is built, not a machine is made, not an acre tilled, without involving the labor and expense of transportation. 108 ADDRESS BEFORE THE From the constitution of our government and the habits of our people, this expense is proportionally greater among us, probably, than in any other country. We are peculiarly a travelling, migratory nation. The travel to and from the common centre of government, including that of the public officers, parties in the federal courts, applicants for place, or justice, or priv- ileges, the interested and the curious of all classes, is immense. In addition to this, the capitals of the several States and Territories, attracting multitudes near and remote ; the transmission of mails; the conveyance of military forces and public stores; the removal of families from place to place; and excur- sions for health or pleasure, for the transaction of business, or the indulgence of the social affections, augment the amount of inland transport, probably, beyond our most liberal conjectures. The business of transportation of persons and prod- ucts is, therefore, a very great business, employing large numbers, and requiring an immense amount of capital. Hardly any feature of our society is more remarkable than this domestic commerce. Were the apparatus at all times in operation to effect it brought together, like that of a manufacturing establishment, in convenient central places, the amount would aston- ish us. The mere travelling expenses of a family, for a series of years, are among its more considerable outgoes. What it pays besides, indirectly and un- consciously, for transportation, what is deducted from all it has to sell, and what is added to all it has to RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 109 - buy, for freight to and from market, if reckoned up by itself, and separated from every thing else, would startle and terrify an economical man. A middling farmer in Lebanon, by actual calculation, transports to and from Concord, in the articles of beef, pork, mutton, wool, cheese, grain, molasses, and salt, about five tons. The expense per hundred is half a dollar; and the total amount, of course, fifty dollars. To this should be added what he pays for transportation, in the price of all his purchases at country stores. Sup- pose it, however, to be fifty dollars. The number of families in town may be four hundred. If half of them average this amount of transportation, the whole cost would be ten thousand dollars a year. The amount of transportation by the merchants of Mont- pelier, as appears from their report for the last year, is more than twenty-five hundred tons, which, at the rate of eighty cents a hundred, is forty thousand dollars. If we take these towns as exhibiting the average transportation of places similarly situated, we see, at once, that the tax imposed upon us for the mere conveyance of materials and products is a vast public charge, and, when added to the expenses before mentioned, for travel and communication, may not improperly be considered as an immense burden upon the national industry. And yet, the national production is not increased in quantity by all this expenditure. Could transportation be reduced to nothing, the same soil, the same mechanical power, the same human labor, would produce exactly the 110 ADDRESS BEFORE THE same amount for the supply of our wants and the indulgence of our tastes. And all the capital and industry now engaged in transportation, merely to carry us and our products from place to place, with- out in the least changing those products themselves, would be at liberty to be employed in actual produc- tion. The productive power of the country would be just so much increased; the wants of society just so much better supplied; the wealth of the country so much augmented. In this view, the matter seems almost too plain to be argued. Considering the country as one, and its prosperity as the aggregate prosperity of all its parts, making no distinction of New England interests, or Western interests, or Southern interests, it is as clear that railroads, running in all directions, and intersect- ing at all important places, must be national benefits, as it is that a single farm is the better for having easy access to every part of it. Would any thing be more unreasonable than to contend that a farmer in Mont- pelier, whose arable land now lies on the Winooski, his pasture land in Williamstown, and his woodland in Barre, would be none the better off, if he should find, next spring, that these several parcels were all brought snugly together, — the pasture skirting the meadow, and the gray wood crowning the hill that rises behind But what would be the practical use of this miracle, except to save him the expense and inconvenience of drawing his wood and driving his cattle so far, and of laboring at such a distance from RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. I 11 home P Let all this be saved to him by some inven- tion which makes distance nothing, and his scattered parcels are virtually brought together. In the month of September, you may see men, on the marshes which line the seacoast, laboriously bringing off their hay, by hand, upon a pair of poles. And did an inland farmer ever look at them without pitying the poor fellows, obliged to make a team of themselves for want of good footing for their cattle? And yet, it would be not a jot more absurd for these haymakers to object to having a firm road offered them, at a moderate rate of toll, or for this Montpelier farmer to object to having his tillage and pasture and woodland brought together, than it is for us to oppose the mak- ing of a railroad, wherever in the land any body is willing to make one. What is there peculiar to a railroad, that should bring its utility into question ? It is, after all, nothing but a road, more easy of passage and cheaper than other roads. It is about as much better than a New England turnpike as that is better than the corduroy roads in the Maumee swamps. In the first settlement of a country, men choose the banks of the rivers, or the shore of the sea; and one of the marks of thrift and progress in a settlement is the degree of convenience and perfection in their means of communication by land and water. With- out roads or navigable streams, commerce and society are impossible. Hence, islands and countries border- ing on the sea, and indented with bays and rivers, 112 ADDRESS BEFORE THE have always been the seats of the highest civilization and most perfect character. Greece was as remark- able for its island features as for its intellectual and social prečminence in the East. England and Hol- land, the richest countries of modern Europe, are also the best watered and most abundantly supplied with all the facilities of internal communication. On the general subject of safe and convenient chan- nels of intercourse the public sentiment has hardly been divided. From the settlement of the country, the improvement of harbours and rivers, the erection of lighthouses, the construction of locks and canals, and the opening of direct and easy roads, have been leading objects of legislation and expenditure. It is not to be supposed that all this care and expense have been idle and mischievous; that it has all gone upon mistaken ideas of policy. But, if not, on what ground is a railroad to be condemned: If modes of conveyance are desirable in proportion as they are perfect, in proportion as they diminish distance and facilitate transport, — if, the more we carry and the quicker we can carry it, the better the road, because the better it answers the very end of all roads, on what principle can we oppose that which comes so near to annihilating distance and friction altogether P One of the most remarkable features of our country, and, indeed, of the surface of our globe, is the valley of the Mississippi River. No adequate estimate can be formed of its extent and resources; figures can hardly calculate them. But what would all that ex- RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 113 panse of fertile and blooming interval be without the river itself? what the river, without the steam- engine stemming its mighty tide P Is a navigable river, then, a blessing to a country? Is a vessel, pro- pelled by steam upon its waters, useful ? And why not a railroad a blessing why not a vessel propelled by steam upon the land useful ? If it carry us along with equal safety, and equal rapidity, and equal cheap- ness, what makes the difference If it convey us securely and smoothly over tracts of earth, where nature has cut no channels for the rivers, is it any the less a blessing for that? There is yet living in Hanover a lady who five times travelled from that place to Boston on horse- back, before a wheel had passed. There are mer- chants in Montpelier who have transported goods from Boston by ox-teams, taking four weeks for a trip, at an expense of sixty dollars a ton. Has noth- ing been added to the prosperity and improvement of the country by all that has been laid out upon roads since P. Have our increased facilities for travelling and transportation injured the farmer or the mechan- ic * Would real estate in Vermont rise, if the public roads were neglected for five years : Would business flourish all the more, if stage-coaches were disused P If past improvements in transportation have not been evils, why should further improvements be so F But, admitting the general advantage of good roads, is it not manifestly impossible to deny the utility of the most perfect and cheapest of all roads P. Still, there 15 114 ADDRESS BEFORE THE are objections to them, which it requires no great ingenuity to state with some appearance of argument, but which are, certainly, groundless. It is objected, that the very greatness of the amount of transportation required by the business of the coun- try is itself proof that the country cannot be bene- fited by the substitution of railways for the common roads. For, it is said, this vast transportation calls for a corresponding amount of the means of trans- portation, horses, carriages, and public houses. These, again, open a market for our country produce, and furnish work for mechanics, harness-makers, wheel- wrights, painters, blacksmiths, carriage-makers, &c. This is all very true, and the inference, at first sight, not unnatural, that, upon the discontinuance of the present modes of conveyance, the produce now neces- sary to sustain them would be left without a market, in the hands of the producers. Perhaps the best reply to the reasoning is fairly to state the whole case. Here, then, is a community requiring a vast amount of transportation, and paying a very great sum for it. Who pays this great sum P Not the particular men who drive or who own the teams; not the merchants who employ them ; but the producers of what is carried to the ports, and the buyers of what is brought from the ports; the men who travel themselves, or pay others for travelling in their stead. When a farmer offers his pork or his cheese to a merchant, the merchant considers what that pork or cheese is bringing in the market, and RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 115 what it will cost him to transport it. He deducts the cost of transportation and the shrinkage from the Boston price, and allows the farmer the balance. When this farmer buys goods of this merchant, in return for his pork or cheese, the merchant adds to the price in Boston the cost of transportation, his own time, stage-fare, board, and other incidental expenses, and fixes the price high enough to cover all these, the losses and injuries incurred on the way, and interest upon the capital laid out. Now, if the farmer, the merchant, and the teamster were all the persons interested, it would be plain that the cost of transportation would all come upon the farmer. For the transportation is all either deducted from the price of his pork and cheese, or added to the cost of the goods he buys. Be this greater or less, he pays it. The teamster and the merchant are, in this respect, his agents, connecting him with the market, and paid by him for doing so. Whatever he gets for his surplus hay and grain above what he would have obtained, had there been no team employed in this transportation, he in fact pays from his own pocket. It is his trans- portation ; and, as we have seen, paid for by him in his dealings with the merchant. It matters not with whom he deals; he may carry his own products to market, and bring back his own purchases, or he may deal with one who deals with another who goes to the market. But, at last, in one way or another, he who produces things that must be transported before they are consumed, or buys things that must he 116 ADDRESS BEFORE THE brought to him from a distance, pays the cost of the transport. It may escape his notice; but it cannot be evaded; other men never pay for transporting his things. What is true of one farmer is true of all. The whole body of agriculturists, comprising, in the United States, seventy-seven in every hundred of the population, and, out of the cities, a much larger pro- portion, are paying, in some form, the immense ex- pense of conveying their bulky products to the market, and bringing from thence the iron, salt, flour, molas- ses, plaster, and other heavy commodities received by them in return. Nor is this the whole of the burden imposed upon the agriculturist by an expensive transportation. He feels it, whenever he, or members of his family, travel by the public coaches; and that in several respects, – in the rate per mile, in the loss of time, and in the incidental expenses by the way. The fare from Bos- ton to Albany, by the railroad, a distance of one hun- dred and eighty miles, is four dollars; from Boston to Montpelier, by stage, little more than one hundred and fifty miles, it is seven dollars. It now takes two days to go from Montpelier to Boston; if a railroad were made, it could be done in eight hours, and the expense of living on the way nearly, or entirely, saved. The single item of time, in this amount of savings, is of no inconsiderable moment. Suppose the speed of the car to be but three times that of the stage-coach, the same amount of travel would be performed by one third the number of men now upon - RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 117 the road; and three fourths of the multitudes at pres- ent taken from the various callings of life, and spend- ing their time most unprofitably and uncomfortably in being dragged over melancholy lengths of way, would be added to the industrial, productive power of the country. Again; the farmer, in the interior, is nearly pre- cluded, by the cost of transportation, from the use of certain manures indispensable to the highest culture of our soil. Were the freight reduced, as it would be by this improvement, lime, abundant in particular localities, might come into general use; plaster, so well adapted to many of our crops, would be brought from the seaboard in large quantities; and even the artificial manures manufactured in the cities could be advantageously carried to some distance into the coun- try. If, then, our agriculture is really burdened with the transport of the products and the purchases of the farming population, how clear it is, that, the cheaper this transport is made, the better it is for the farmer how plain it is, that the supposed advantage of a market, occasioned by men and teams engaged in conveyance of persons and commodities, is a mere illusion,-the receipt of money with one hand, which is immediately paid out with the other In truth, a community no more finds unnecessary horses and carriages good husbandry and good economy, than a single family does. And it would be hardly more wise for a state to keep men and teams, for the pur- pose of eating up their surplus hay and grain, and 118 ADDRESS BEFORE THE bacon and eggs, than it would be for an individual to do so. If there is a cheaper mode of conveyance, on the whole, for the commodities of our country, than those now in use, the expense of maintaining the dearer falls, ultimately, on the consumer, that is, on the men whose products and purchases and persons are conveyed,—the very men who imagine them- selves to be getting high prices and a ready sale for their agricultural products, in consequence of keeping men and horses to consume those products. The agriculturist, it is true, is not the only person interested; all classes bear their part of the expense, because all have more or less occasion to travel or transport; all consume commodities which have paid freight, and nearly all create values to be carried to a distant market. The principal weight falls, however, on the farmer and the manufacturer; because they are, among us, both from their superior numbers and the nature of their occupations, the great producers and the great consumers. If it be denied that railroads are, in the main, cheaper than other means of conveyance, it is obvious to reply, that, unless they prove so, they will not su- persede other means; if they prove so, it must be folly to maintain the dearer. It is, however, by no means certain that the con- struction of railroads tends ultimately to diminish the use of animal power in the country. These roads can be introduced only along great thoroughfares; to the line of the road the population and produce of a RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 119 wide belt of country on either side must be brought by the ordinary means; from it this population and the commodities transported from the city must be distributed. The reduced fare and freight will add greatly to the numbers and the amount of articles carried both ways. For the accommodation of trav- ellers and the convenience of trade, inns and shops must be opened all along the route ; so that it would not be strange, if nearly the same amount of animal power should be still required by the business of the country, while, at the same time, more distant markets are opened for our produce. It is objected, also, that railroads tend to concen- trate the business of the country in few hands; to give a monopoly to the capitalist; and that they are, therefore, antirepublican. It is a curious fact, that every body is toiling to accumulate capital, and yet jealous of the capitalist; every body commending the industry and frugality that lead to wealth, and yet denouncing the possessor of wealth; every body aiming at it as a great earthly good, and yet dreading the influence of it upon soci- ety. There must be some delusion in this matter; some prevalent misapprehension of the agency of cap- ital; a misapprehension, it is sad to see, fostered always by the envy and bad passions of our fallen nature, and not seldom by the selfish arts of design- ing men. Without capital, the accumulated fruits of past in- dustry, what could future industry effect? Want of 120 ADDRESS BEFORE THE capital is, at this moment, one of the obstacles to the progress of agriculture itself, as well as of all our other pursuits. Business is often conducted to disad- vantage for want of means; men may be too poor to be economical. Without the use of capital, we tend backward towards barbarism. The difference of suc- cessive ages is not chiefly in numbers, or physical strength, or native intellect; it is even more in MEANs, in resources multiplied by preceding industry and in- genuity, and handed down from one generation to another. The same skies are ever above us; the same soil opens its bosom to us; the same agencies of nature minister to us. But how widely different the condition and prospects of ages distinguished by the extremes of poverty and wealth' Under a stable government, capital, rendered safe by the administra- tion of law, labors for us as truly as human minds or human hands. What else erects the noble structures of useful art, which protect us in war, and accommo- date us in peace : What else clears the channels of the rivers, walls out the fury of the seas, maintains our armies and navies, and supports the government and the schools? What pays all this untold expense 2 What feeds and clothes the industry, busy every- where, and everywhere cheerful, in the thousand offi- ces which execute the vast enterprises of individual and national wisdom and economy Is it a poll taa: 2 Has a Stephen Girard or a William Bartlett no more to do with it all than the man who copies his invoices or drives his dray : There is a beneficence which RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 121 consists in giving alms, – a sublime, a divine charity. But there is, also, a beneficence of acquisition as well as of communication. . It may be more blessed to give; but it is blessed to receive. He may be doing good who is gathering together, no less than he who is scattering abroad. Peevish discontent or wicked ambition would provoke unkind feeling toward the successful in every line of life, who, by pains and perseverance, have reached the envied eminence of wealth. But let us repress this spirit; it becomes us not; it is as unpatriotic as it is unchristian. Wealth is a talent, a great power; inherited or acquired, it is bestowed for good and noble ends ; and, by whom- soever possessed, is accompanied with great anxieties and responsibilities. He will indulge least in declaim- ing upon its vanity or its immorality, who best under- stands its uses and its power. It may be abused, as what gift may not One is obliged, sometimes, to blush and hang his head at the sight of reasoning and spiritual beings paying their devotion to a golden image. I hardly know which most to condemn, the good-natured, generous man, who, involved by care- lessness or vanity in hopeless embarrassment, adven- tures upon dishonesty and crime, to escape humiliation and disgrace; or the man who, technically just to the splitting of a hair, prospered by carefulness and par- simony and legal extortion, growing earthly as he grows gray, and cankered and corroded by the rust of silver and gold, narrows a capacious soul to one gross passion, and buries himself before he dies. God 16 122 ADDRESS BEFORE THE be judge between them. But of capital, with all its liabilities to abuse, every man receives the benefit. It is capital that secures his personal liberty, that re- wards his industry, that educates his children. And capital will build a railroad, not for the oppression of the public, but for their convenience. We can all do something else better than to carry freights to Boston as cheap as railroads enable the proprietors to do it. We permit them, therefore, to do it for us, just as we employ others to make shoes for us, so long as we can do something else better than we can make them for ourselves, and buy our clothes, when our wives and daughters can do better than to make them at pres- ent prices. These roads take the travel from other roads, because the public find it good economy to use them. When the Western canal was first opened, it was covered with scows by the farmers carrying their own products; but it was soon found that they could earn more and save money by paying freight to the regular line boats; and the scows were laid up on the shore. In reference to this subject, the common mistake is committed, of confounding capital with money. Mon- ey is capital; but so, also, is land; so is machinery. A very small part of the capital of a country is in money. The farmer is a capitalist; the manufacturer is a capitalist. Much the largest part of our capital is in our real estate, diffused over the whole face of the land, and giving substantial independence and power to the yeomanry, the industrious, enterprising agricul- RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 123 turists and mechanics of the country. These classes, thriving and flourishing under a fostering government, and gradually improving their estates, are, at the same time, laying by, annually, more or less of their revenue in the form of money. Others, from disinclina- tion or inability to pursue active business, and having means already acquired by their own hands or inher- ited from their ancestors, have their whole property in money, and live on the interest. There is, of course, always a certain amount of capital in quest of investment. But this capital is by no means in few hands. It is most abundant in large places, but it is accumulating everywhere. Being always at com- mand, and convertible again into money if well in- vested, it is an object of general desire and con- venience, as a provision against the accidents of life, and for the setting up of sons or the setting out of daughters. A large part of it is the property of wid- ows and infants, of invalids and aged persons, and of literary and charitable institutions. It should be borne in mind, too, that, under our in- stitutions, estates are divided equally among the chil- dren of the deceased ; and once in about thirty years the whole capital of the community passes through the probate office for distribution among heirs not always educated to add to the dangers of accu- mulation in exact proportion to the amount of their patrimony. It can with no propriety be said, therefore, that railroads put the business of the country into danger- 124 ADDRESS BEFORE THE ous hands, or into few hands, or into the hands of moneyed men. The business of no considerable part of the population is at all diminished by their influ- ence. It is somewhat changed, but increased rather than diminished. It is done to more advantage to all concerned. It is this very circumstance that brings them into use. They offer an inviting mode of invest- ment for the capital of those, in town or country, who choose to own stock rather than land, or ships, or cot- ton-mills. The general effect of public improvements of all kinds, and especially of roads and canals, is to equalize property and happiness, not to accumulate them in a privileged order, or a fortunate few. Hu- man beings are essentially the same everywhere, the same bone and muscle, the same nerve and soul. But placed by Providence in very different circumstances, we are unequally developed and unequally privileged. We are not all close by the Grand Banks or the coal mines, the rice-swamps or the cane-brakes, the wheat- fields or the mountain-pastures, the seaport and the city. From the fountains gushing forth in favored spots some must be farther off than others. And whatever tends to lessen this difference of condition, by annihilating distance and overcoming difficulty, tends just so far to diffuse and equalize the blessings of life. It is less than a century since the first canal was cut in England; her common roads were then ex- tremely bad; railroads have become common within a RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 125 much shorter time. Now, the country is traversed by them in every direction. But, though strictly of a commercial character, they have affected agriculture no less than commerce, the country no less than the city. Within this period the whole face of England has been changed. Its agriculture, from being ex- tremely rude and unproductive, has become wonder- fully perfect, falling short, in no degree, of its un- paralleled manufactures. A naturally barren soil has become a garden. It is estimated that the annual agricultural products of England amount to six hun- dred and sixty million dollars. Its territory is a little larger than the State of Maine; it would hardly be visible on a map of the United States. And yet the agricultural products of our whole country are but six hundred and forty million dollars. We are apt to feel that New England is overstock- ed, - a hive too full, and already obliged to drive out its young swarms to forage among the fresh flowers of the Western prairies. New England full! Her popu- lation may be doubled, and trebled, by the use of her inexhaustible water-power, the manufacture of her own raw material, and the improvement of her soil. Open the markets of the world to our mountain glens and hamlets, bring these basins of fertile interval, these mineral riches, these living streams, to an easy and intimate intercourse with the great centres of trade and enterprise, and in half a century we should scarcely know our native land. A new impulse would be felt, at once, in its agriculture and all its institu- 126 ADDRESS BEFORE THE tions. We should be better fed and better clothed and better educated, as a people. The period of the practical arts, of science applied to navigation and to inland communication, is the very period most distin- guished in history for the rise of the middling and lower classes, for the distribution of wealth, and the division of power. And the countries most distin- guished for the extent of their seacoast, their naviga- ble and artificial channels of communication, are the countries most remarkable for competence, independ- ence, and comfort in the masses of society. Compare England and Holland with Poland and Austria. The latter have few natural facilities of commerce and bad roads; the former, the most perfect means of external and domestic intercourse. In the latter we are struck with the spectacle of fine races of men, with a good soil, and not without seats of learning and schools of art, doomed to general poverty and positive misery; in the former we see a powerful aristocracy and time- honored institutions yielding gradually, but inevitably, to the growing importance of the industrious classes, —the city submitting to the country, - the govern- ment to the people. It is objected, again, that railroads, by introducing manufactures into the heart of the country, divert in- dustry from the primitive, healthful, and moral pursuits of agriculture, and bring on us the vices and miseries of manufacturing and commercial places. To this it is obvious to reply, that, without commerce or manu- factures, agriculture soon reaches a natural limit. RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 127 Manufactures and commerce open vents for its surplus products, and, by thus increasing the demand for them, stimulate production, awaken ingenuity to improve the processes of agriculture, and cheapen its means and implements. The introduction of manufactures into the interior of the country, by occasioning an increased consump- tion of the materials of building, of fuel, of the vari- ous ores, of provisions, and other articles required in these establishments, has the effect of bringing the market to the farmer, instead of obliging the farmer to go to the market. In the case of the manufacture of his own products into articles for his own con- sumption, as of wool into cloth, he saves the expense of a double transportation, — that of the raw material to the town, and that of the manufacture back again. Of the comparative moral effects of agriculture and manufactures it is not easy to speak with entire con- fidence. It has been the fashion, for some years, to represent manufacturing places as peculiarly immoral. Mr. Southey has taken particular pains, in several of his works, to exhibit the great manufacturing towns of England in a light sufficiently deplorable and humiliating. It is not necessary to deny the general truth of these representations. It must be admit- ted, that, whilst the immense production of England sustains a vast amount of life and comfort and luxu- ry, the mere laborer at wages, in distinction from the owner of the soil, and the manufacturer, — in distinc- tion, too, from the tenant and the subtenant, — the 128 ADDRESS BEFORE THE mere day-laborer, is an unhappy and oppressed man. That he lives at all, however, he owes to the produc- tiveness of his country; that he shares no more of the fruits and blessings of his own industry he owes to the yet uncorrected defects of the government. A writer in the last number of the Westminster Review maintains the opposite doctrine, and under- takes to show, from public documents, that the advan- tage, in point of intelligence and morals, is rather in favor of the manufacturing than of the agricultural districts of England. Manufactures, of course, tend to concentrate population in towns, and therefore to foster the peculiar evils bred in towns. But, with all the immoralities and wretchedness of some portions of the population of England, it is usually understood, that, especially if taken in connection with Scotland, a manufacturing country also, she presents on the whole a population decidedly better educated, better princi- pled, and happier, than the countries more exclusively agricultural, as Austria, Poland, Spain, and even France. In New England, so far as time has allowed the experiment to be made, the evils predicted, as likely to result from the introduction of manufactures, have, certainly, not been realized. The education and mor- als of our large manufacturing places seem not to be in the least behind those of other New England vil- lages. Besides, as our facilities of internal communi- cation are increased, villages will be multiplied and smaller. The advantages of town and country will be more combined. Population will be concentrated RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 129 enough to secure the benefits of schools, lectures, and intelligent intercourse; and yet allow a free air, the wholesome restraints of a pure public sentiment, and, above all, the formation of associations with home and the scenes of home, with the schoolhouse and the playground, with hill and stream, with the church and the churchyard, – associations which brighten as they grow old, and which, amid our cares and temp- tations, never cease to attract us to the principles of our parents and the examples of our childhood. It is important to remark, in this connection, that in an improved state of society we are more depend- ent for instruction upon art than nature. The out- ward world teaches us comparatively less, and the schools and society more. A scattered agricultural community is more conversant with the material works of God; but it is in villages, in more compact society, that the means of the highest mental culture are en- joyed. The village becomes, of course, the centre of an elevating and improving influence to the country around. There are great lessons in the book of na- ture. I love her open face and genial smiles. She speaks to us always of the great, the holy, and the superhuman. “Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.” The seasons teach a deep morality. But MAN – is not man a part of nature ?' Is he not the superior, the sublimer, the more instructive part? In a cultivated age, there are no such spectacles to attract our wonder and elevate our views, as are afforded by the institutions and 17 130 ADDRESS BEFORE THE achievements of human art. There is nowhere else such instruction as that of disciplined and active mind. Our great school is the theatre of human life, where the strong efforts of mind are made, and its triumphs over matter achieved. A lower culture, an instinc- tive wisdom, a respectable intelligence, an amiable contentment, may adorn the lovely retirement of the mountain cottage ; but our ideas of this solitary felici- ty are more than half borrowed from the poets. It is only among men, mechanical, or agricultural, or lit- erary, it is only as they are associated, as mind con- verses with mind, and hearts are kindled by mutual contact or collision,-that the higher forms of char- acter are brought out. Our towns and villages, no doubt, present more dis- gusting forms of vice and misery than the country around ; but it is to be borne in mind that the un- principled and dissolute flock from the rural, thinly settled districts to the populous places, in quest of fa- cilities of indulgence. They seek the concealment, and the opportunities of plunder, which a city affords. And, without doubt, evil is more concentrated and pestiferous, as population is more dense; example is more dangerous, and temptation more insidious. But the very circumstances which give increased energy to the principles of vice give equally increased ener- gy to the elements of intelligence, virtue, and piety. From the centres of society issue streams of living water, as well as of fire. Of all conditions of so- ciety, I can hardly imagine any so unexceptionable, RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 131 so nearly perfect, as we have already in some degree enjoyed, and, with the improvements now in progress, are likely still more to enjoy, in New England,- the condition of a rural village population, combining, in a good degree, the intelligence, the enterprise, the associated moral power, and the rational amusements and enjoyments of the city, no longer a dismal way off, with the clear skies, the fragrant air, the early hours, the simple habits, the individual importance of the country. Whatever, therefore, may be the actual condition of the manufacturing towns of England, or the tendency of manufactures to concentrate society, it is manifest, that, sooner or later, a great agricultural country will, of course, become also a manufacturing country, as its population increases; and that, of the two, it is bet- ter to have manufactures diffused in small establish- ments, than to have them concentrated in populous cities, –better to have a multitude of meat, bright, quiet villages, than to have a few crowded, smoky, stifled towns,— better for the intelligence and morals of the community to encourage the establishment of many little centres of trade and concourse among the hills, than to oblige a whole people to seek a market in a few enormous cities. Having detained you so long, Gentlemen, upon the general influence of this new mode of conveyance, I pass to the particular effects of the proposed road from Boston to Burlington, through the capitals of 132 ADDRESS BEFORE THE New Hampshire and Vermont. And, in the first place, it is worthy of remark, that this route is liable to be superseded by no other. If once constructed, it will be the highest that can ever be expected to cross the Connecticut River. Should one be ultimate- ly made up the valley of the river, it would only in- crease the travel upon this, by virtually extending one of its arms into the upper country; and should the enterprise of the southern and western part of Ver- mont build a road through Rutland to Fitchburg, the shortest and most inviting direction from Burlington will still be along the Onion and White rivers, the Mascomy, the Blackwater, and the Merrimac, great natural channels through the highlands of both States, hardly deviating from a straight line, and, according to actual survey, nowhere presenting an ascent of sixty feet to a mile, and for but a few miles in the whole distance of even thirty feet to the mile, whilst a very considerable part of the way is nearly level. By this central road we accommodate ten of the four- teen counties of this State. These ten counties con- tribute five eighths of the annual production of the State. In the second place, the mere construction of the work itself would be of no little use to these States. Of the three or four million dollars to be expended in it, a large amount must be paid, for timber and pro- visions and labor, to our farmers and mechanics. Dur- ing the period of its construction, new activity will thus be given to every kind of business on the route. RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 133 In the third place, it will open a market for timber, now standing in great quantities, but nearly valueless, in many towns through or near which it will pass. Even firewood and charcoal are now carried from Concord to Lowell and Boston; of course, with a cheap mode of conveyance, these articles could be car- ried from the towns above Concord to the same mar- ket, besides being consumed in large quantities for the use of the road itself, and by the establishments all along erected for the convenience of the neigh- bouring country. In the fourth place, some of our best crops and most congenial to our soil, now excluded from market or carried to market in small quantities, would be at once in demand, to an almost unlimited amount. Hay was last year carried from Enfield to Concord, a dis- tance of near fifty miles, and paid a very good profit : corn and oats are carried still farther. Much more would be carried, and from greater distances, upon a cheaper road. On the other hand, important articles, the cost of which now limits their use among us, would be brought in greater abundance from the seaboard. It is in point here to remark, also, that the princi- ple, that division of labor increases production, so im- portant in the arts, has but a limited application to agriculture. Indeed, the reverse, even, is true here. The agriculturist should rather study to unite than to separate the processes involved in his pursuits. It would not do for one man to raise hay, and another to make butter and cheese ; one to grow corn, and an- 134 ADDRESS BEFORE THE other to fatten pork. The true economy is rather, as far as possible, to do all together on the same farm, so as to secure to the utmost the advantages of con- sumption as well as production, and to combine the profits of different but perfectly consistent operations. It is better to turn off fat cattle than lean ; better to sell pork than store shoats; better to raise and mature a fine two-year old than to give somebody else at a distance the profit of doing it; better to fatten your mutton and your beef than to sell your grain and your hay. And the more perfectly all this is done, so much the better economy it is. The best things of their kind, the fattest meats, the nicest butter, are always cheapest to the buyer and most profitable to the pro- ducer, — they find the quickest market and bring the highest price. A man may work three hundred days in the year on the eye of a needle, and he will earn the more for it; he saves time and acquires facility by it. But you cannot mow, or plough, or reap, the year round. So that, in respect to division of labor, the farmer essentially differs from the manufacturer. Af- ter the toils of summer and autumn, he has leisure to perfect his harvest for the winter market, and may fill up time, otherwise really lost, in consuming his own products on his own farm, and thus enriching that farm itself, whilst he is, at the same time, reducing the bulky produce of the field, expensive to transport, to the precise form in which it is most easily conveyed to market, and most wanted when it arrives there. Why are droves of lean cattle and swine driven, all RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 135 the fall, from the extremities of Vermont and New Hampshire to the vicinity of Boston, and the grain of these same States transported to fatten them upon? How much better for us to prepare them here, and put the profits into our own pockets! It is a false idea, that the market requires poor beef; it consumes it for want of better, but never really prefers bone and cartilage to muscle and tallow. Bring us near the market, and we can prepare our products for the market as well as the people of Massachusetts. Again; this road will, in time, without doubt, be- come the most convenient thoroughfare between Bos- ton and the Canadas. Montreal is to be the seat of government for these provinces. For half the year, communication with the ocean, through the St. Law- rence, is suspended by frost; and even in summer, a good deal of intercourse is now carried on by the pub- lic stages between Montreal and Boston, in conse- quence of the steam navigation between Boston and Liverpool. Should the projected road from Port Kent to Ogdensburg be completed, and especially if a road should be built connecting Lake Ontario with Lake Huron, or should Montreal be connected with Lake Huron, Boston would stand a fair chance to share with New York the immense trade of the Lakes and of that fine country on their northern shores, not inferior, it is said, to Ohio or Illinois, in which lie, yet undiscov- ered, the principal resources of Upper Canada. It is also a fact of importance, that the road is ac- tually made as far as Concord, and the stock even of 136 ADDRESS BEFORE THE the upper sections selling at twenty and thirty per cent. advance. It is, moreover, important to be con- sidered that other parts of the country are rapidly in- creasing their facilities of communication of all kinds, and even connecting themselves, by these means, with our own market. It is not so much a ques- tion with us, whether good roads are beneficial to the country, as whether a part of the country without them can maintain a competition in the same market against parts of the country with them. If we are in danger of being undersold in Boston by Ohio and Illinois, it gives us little advantage, in this emulation, to be obliged to pay unnecessary freight. Another argument for this undertaking is the prob- able effect of such a work of public utility and per- sonal enterprise on the spirit and bearing of these sister States. In point of territory, as to extent or fertility, we have nothing to boast of. We stand well enough, it is true, in these respects, among the East- ern States. But the whole of New England is but a point on the map of the Union. For the past we have nothing to fear; it is matter of history. And we have nothing to ask. When the scene we have acted in the drama of American history ceases to command respect and admiration in any part of the continent, admiration and respect will not be worth asking for. But for the future, the great American future, what have we to rely on P What but the achievements of our industry, the perfection of our in- stitutions, our mental and moral character P. If we RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 137 would retain the respect of our children and our own respect, we must be able to point them, and to point the world, not to what nature has done for us, but to what we have done for nature. True, we have a narrow foundation, but it is solid, and “cujus est solum, ejus ad colum,”—which means, “there is room enough to expand upwards.” There are some things of which these States can never be deprived. There is our great natural water- power. There are our materials, in the earth and the forest, for all manner of cunning work. There is our great New England market; in which the grass-fed beef of Vermont is allowed to be the best in the world; in which the butter and cheese of Vermont are unsurpassed, and, with the exception of the “Goshen butter,” and that from the county of Worcester in Massachusetts, unequalled ; in which the pork and lard of Vermont, in common with the rest of New England, have no competition, for family consumption, even under all our disadvantages of communication. There is our wool, the finest and softest in the mar- ket, and destined to be so always; for it is a settled fact, I understand, that calcareous soils, a damp at- mosphere, a level and a sunny country, are unfavorable to the perfection of wool. England has nearly dis- continued the growth of fine wools; Spain, herself, where the merino has been cultivated ever since the decline of Rome, has fallen quite into the back- ground ; and Germany, - the mountains of Saxony and Prussia supply nearly all the fine wools for the 18 138 ADDRESS BEFORE THE London market, amounting to twenty-five or thirty millions of pounds a year. Ours, also, are the aerial heights, the dwelling-places of the gods and the nurseries of heroes. Of these, all these, no competi- tion can deprive us. With these, husbanded and cherished with patriotic pride, nothing really good among the objects of sublunary pursuit, nothing worth ambition, shall be impossible to us. Indolent and dejected, New Hampshire and Vermont will see their sons instinctively abandon their falling fortunes; but rising, and brightening, and attaching to themselves general regard and admiration, they will see those same sons instinctively clinging around them, and counting it enough to be children of the fathers in the land of the fathers. May I not add, finally, that, in connection with these advantages, which suppose no miracle, but seem really and in the natural course of things likely to follow from the contemplated improvement, there will spring up, with equal certainty, a rich harvest of moral and social blessings to two kindred, and, to us at least, most interesting States of the Union f Pass- ing through the capitals and many of the principal towns of both States, will it not serve to connect the extremities of both with their respective centres of influence and intelligence ; to raise the standard of education and character, by a freer intercourse of cultivated minds; to enlarge and elevate the institu- tions of learning and religion, by supplying more abundantly the means of their support; and to unite in closer ties communities naturally one * RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 139 - With the Lake on the west and the sea on the east, New Hampshire and Vermont, Mr. President, lie side by side, united rather than divided by the noble river which flows along their whole length. In- cluded within nearly the same parallels of latitude, they enjoy a common climate, somewhat sterner than that of Massachusetts and Connecticut, but decidedly less rigorous and forbidding than that of Maine. They exhibit, in general, the same physical features,-ris- ing on opposite sides of the Connecticut from rich meadow lands, equalled in fertility and beauty only by the shores of the Delaware and the Mohawk, into immense ranges of mountain pasture and woodland equalled nowhere ; sloping off on the west to the Lake and the Hudson, and to the ocean on the east; settled, for the most part, from the same primitive seats in Massachusetts and Connecticut, by young adventurers in husbandry who chose rather to carve out a farm for themselves from the wilderness than to settle on a corner of the homestead, -they have maintained from the first a common character, — have been equally distinguished in peace and in war, through their whole history, for hardy enterprise and patient industry, for public spirit and domestic virtue, for intelligence and happiness. It is one of the blessings of the Union of which these States are members, that political lines do not necessarily obliterate such natural sympathies. We may belong to New Hampshire or Vermont, and never know the difference. The Connecticut is, to all im- 140 ADDRESS BEFORE THE portant ends, as much a river of Vermont as if the line of the State ran along its eastern instead of its western border. State jealousies and animosities are merged in the feeling of a common relation to a com- mon government, — a feeling of mutual interest and esteem as children of a common parent. The importance of this mutual interest and respect between independent states is well illustrated by the occasion which has called us together to-day. New Hampshire happens to lie between Vermont and our great New England market. The people of your State must cross our territory in their way to that market. You can, indeed, go round us, but your natural channels of trade and intercourse are through New Hampshire. On the other hand, we are equally dependent, upon you. If we allow you our highway, we have the profit of the travel. You cannot use our roads or canals without paying for them. In some cases you pay directly in the form of a toll; this is the course of our canals and railways and turnpike roads. Upon all these your custom is so much profit to our State. Upon common roads you pay us indi- rectly, by enlarging the market for our various pro- duce at our own doors, and giving activity to the capital invested in public stages and public houses, and to our Smiths and carpenters, and other artisans, supported, in some degree, by the great apparatus for transportation of persons and merchandise through the State. In another point of view, also, we are interested RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 141 as a State in furnishing facilities and inducements to the citizens of Vermont to pass to market over our soil. For all great enterprises the capital must be obtained mostly from the cities, and, in the case of these States, from the city of Boston. It must be so, because the money accumulated in the country is continually flowing to the towns. The lawyer, who has been so fortunate as to reach at once the emi- nence of fame and of wealth by his country practice, gathers up his gains and removes to the city. The country merchant, who begins to reckon by tens of thousands, is apt to emigrate to the city, and leave his country store in the hands of a son or nephew. For men of large means the city presents strong attractions. If they seek the gratifications which wealth alone can buy, they find them in perfection there. If they pant for higher enterprises and more extended operations, the opportunities for such enter- prises are opened and presented there. Even those, who, having amassed a fortune, prefer to remain where they earned it, send their capital for investment to the city. There is there a mode of doing business, an exactness, a system, a comprehensiveness of plan, which are agreeable to men of large means, and which cannot, without infinite perplexity, be secured in the country. The consequence is, that money, always accumulating in Boston, is always in quest of investment; and all our great country enterprises are sustained by Boston capital. Now, if money is wanted for a railroad in New 142 ADDRESS BEFORE THE Hampshire, we must show that it will be safely and profitably invested there. To show this, we must exhibit the map of the State; must estimate her exports and imports; must describe her relation to Vermont, and the Canadas, and the Western lakes. We must make it appear, that, in all probability, she is destined to be an important thoroughfare for a flourishing and growing country behind and above her, as well as fruitful of resources in herself. When this is made plain to sharp-sighted and calculating men, there will be no want of capital at our command. Money is never scarce, where it can be well invested. It flows to such places as naturally and as certainly as water to the ocean. It is clear enough, then, that New Hampshire and Vermont have an interest in the great road which is proposed for connecting this northwestern country more immediately with the capital of New England. It is the true interest of both States to consult together, to weigh together the comparative advantages of different routes, for the accommodation and advancement of the entire popu- lation. Of the claims of this or that particular route others are more competent to speak than I. Indeed, it is not easy to speak at all upon this matter, until actual surveys have been made, distances ascertained with precision, obstacles estimated, and the general face of the country and the natural direction of busi- ness ascertained by patient observation and reflection. So far as I have hoped to do any thing for the pro- motion of the enterprise, it has been rather by pre- RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 143 senting some general considerations, fitted to inspire confidence in the utility of the work, and to awaken an enlightened zeal among the people, than by any geographical or statistical information in my power to give. If the work be carried on at all, it must be carried on by the earnest exertions of intelligent and efficient men. The majority of society will not go forward. They are well enough disposed; proper men, good citizens; in an emergency, they would rise up armed and disciplined, by instinct, to do battle for their country. But it is only when strong passions are excited, when grinding oppression is felt, or liberty insulted, that the mass of mind and energy is roused. That form of thought which is busied in meditating the undeveloped capacities of a country, foreseeing the distant results of the quiet changes of human society, is rare ; but one man in a hundred evinces much of it. That one is the truly wise, and, if his forecasting intellect be sanctified by love, the truly good and great man, among that hundred. A few such in a town give it character; to such its enterprise and prosperity are, in no small measure, to be ascribed. They need not be learned in the forms of the schools; they need not be gifted with the attributes of genius. A clear head, patient inquiry, willingness to take responsibility, ever-living industry, directed and nour- ished by a strong ambition to be useful, by a sincere desire to do good, - these are traits of the truest greatness. Superior to despair, unsubdued by diffi- 144 ADDRESS BEFORE THE culty, never weary, they command respect; they form public opinion; they direct public enterprise; they hold the keys that unlock the public treasures. If the great work which we contemplate is achieved, it will be by the energy and zeal of such men, in the first instance, arousing and concentrating public sentiment, and demonstrating the utility and importance of the enterprise. To men of this description, assembled for consulta- tion here to-day, permit me to say that an opportu- nity so favorable to effect the object has never before occurred, and, if neglected, may not occur again for half a century. By a singular coincidence, at the very moment when the history of public roads in Europe and this country is strikingly demonstrating their influence on public prosperity; at the very mo- ment, when, in New England especially, the con- struction of railroads has become a favorite mode of investment, and stock in them is bearing a higher price in the market than any other; at this very crisis, there is, for several reasons, all accidental and tem- porary, a singular and unprecedented abundance of capital, -of capital seeking permanent investment. Events may, in no long time, entirely change this propitious state of things. This now idle capital may be invested somewhere, invested in establishments from which it cannot be readily withdrawn; and this part of New England be left to suffer the disadvan- tages of expensive transportation, in our competition with other more favored portions of the country, for years and years to come. | RAILROAD CONVENTION AT MONTPELIER. 145 I am not anxious to see New Hampshire and Ver- mont running wild with the enthusiasm of adventure, and entailing burdens on successive generations. I do not suppose that railroads and manufactures are to work any magical improvement of this sterile, aus- tere, rugged, alpine land. We shall still be “the Switzerland of America ’’; but let us not forget that the Switzerland of the Old World herself is made one of the most productive, most intelligent, happiest people of Europe, by these very facilities of communication. We have been compared, perhaps with yet greater propriety, to Scotland; and it is not a little to my purpose to be able to add that one of the most remarkable changes in the condition of that picturesque agricultural country is now actually tak- ing place, under the influence of the roads and canals which the government has, within a few years past, carried up into the midst of its romantic highlands. The immediate consequence of this judicious, pater- nal policy has been to call out from this sterile and neglected portion of the kingdom, hitherto famous for nothing but ferocity in war and wretchedness in peace, some of the sweetest verdure and richest fruits of British husbandry. I9 S P E E C H UPON THE MOTION TO ACCEPT THE ANNUAL REPORT OF THE NEW HAMPSHIRE BIBLE SOCIETY, AT LYME, SEPT. 7, 1825. MR. PRESIDENT:-I rise for the purpose of moving that the Report, just read, be accepted and printed. This resolution, Sir, needs no support of mine. It is but a faint expression of the deep feeling of inter- est and gratitude to God with which this eloquent and animating Report has been listened to by the society. To this feeling, yet beaming from so many faces, I have little hope of adding any thing by the few remarks I intend to offer. The enterprise, Sir, in which the Bible Society is engaged, is entirely new. It is no new thing for men, even of distant countries and different languages, to combine their skill, and power, and treasures, to pour out their blood, side by side, for the defence of common rights and interests, or the attainment of some common good. But what people ever before conceived the design, and employed the means, of disseminating an intelligible and popular system of religious belief? The ancient heathens had their sacred books. But they never thought of putting SPEECH BEFORE NEW HAMPSHIRE BIBLE SOCIETY. 14.7 them into the hands of the people; they were not accommodated to the use or understanding of the people. The religion of the Egyptians was locked up in mysterious symbols, which the priests only were able to interpret. That of the Greeks and Romans was not addressed to the intelligence and good sense of those communities. How rational soever may have been the opinions of a few of their thinking men, to the body of the people religion was but a splendid show, a series of expensive and magnificent ceremo- nials. Theirs was a religion of the senses. The eye was dazzled, the ear was charmed, but the mind drank in no great ideas of God, no awakening and elevating conceptions of its own origin, condition, and destiny. The heart never swelled, was never melted or enraptured, as the providence and purposes of its Creator and Redeemer were unfolded. The idolaters of India, almost as remarkable as the Jews themselves for the incorporation of religion with all their thoughts and feelings and conduct, have yet no book of faith and practice adapted to general circulation. The Shaster, in which their dogmas are embodied, is in Sanscrit, a language long ago obsolete in India. Mohammedanism, the most artful and successful of all the corruptions of Christianity, if it had no other obstacle to encounter, is rendered utterly incapable of general diffusion by its cumbrous code of seventy-five thousand jarring precepts. None of these systems seem to have contemplated the worship of God as an act of reason and affection, in which all men, high 148 SPEECH BEFORE THE and low, were to unite with sincerity and intelligence. This is one of the great characteristics of revelation. Nor was even the Hebrew Testament, an obscure form of the gospel itself, ever put into the hands, or lodged in the houses, of the people. The design, in which we have united with all Christendom, of putting the records of our faith, the charter of our hopes, into the hands of every human being, is, therefore, peculiar to us as Christians. It is our exclusive privilege to possess such a volume as the Bible ; so adapted to every condition of life, every stage of civilization; so concise, and yet so full, so clear, so practical. In this view of the Bible, Sir, I read, as in characters of light, the traces of a divine hand. While all other systems of religious faith seem to have been built upon human ignorance, accommo- dated to the infancy of the world, and to melt away at the approach of popular intelligence, like the fairy frostwork of a northern atmosphere before the sum- mer sun, the gospel is, from beginning to end, ad- dressed to the reason of man ; the very first act of Christian faith is an exercise of the intellect and the heart, which the mind will never disapprove, in any period of its progress; and as our mental powers are more and more developed, this gospel will be found to open new and richer views, to unlock deeper and sweeter and purer fountains of happiness. Thus the word of God, like his works, while it unfolds enough of his character to the most circumscribed vision to awaken admiration and devotion, invites the study NEW HAMPSHIRE BIBLE SOCIETY. 14.9 and fills the comprehension of the most capacious mind. It was no slight indication of his inspiration of God, that the son of a Jewish carpenter, an un- learned and obscure individual of the most exclusive sect of religionists that ever existed, should have been the first of the human race to conceive the design of a universal religion. But it was a more decisive, to my mind, Sir, an irresistible, demonstration of his divine authority, that this individual should be able so to instruct and guide seven or eight others, equally illiterate, and of the same original character and education, that they should, after his decease, and without apparent concert, produce the New Testa- ment, the only book that ever was adapted to the fulfilment of his great design. But to return from this digression, Sir, the idea of a Bible Society, the attempt by one united effort of the church to communicate the Bible to the whole world, is by no means coeval with the birth of Chris- tianity. It is the glory of our times. The apostles undertook to preach the gospel to every creature; perhaps they did preach it in the principal places of the known world. But they could not leave a Bible in the hands of every creature. If the canon had been complete, when they began their ministry, the expense and inconvenience of transcribing such a vol- ume, the only means of multiplying its copies then known, would have nearly confined its use to the public service of the churches. The first plan that ever was devised to supply the nations of the world 150 SPEECH BEFORE THE with the Bible in their native languages and for their daily study was devised within the memory of most of those who hear me. The organization of the British and Foreign Bible Society, in 1804, for the purpose “ of circulating the Bible in the principal living languages,” was a new era in the history of Christianity, - an event to which, Sir, we probably owe the opportunity of this day uniting our thanks to God for the institution of the Bible Society of our own and sister States, of the United States, and of almost every state on either continent which enjoys the faintest glimmerings of revelation; for the presses which, in Christian and heathen lands, are daily send- ing forth hundreds of Bibles, in a hundred and forty languages; and for the indefatigable, almost incredi- ble, labors of those men of God who are encounter- ing the extremes of heat and cold, the perils of the desert and the sea, the frown of tyrants and the madness of the people, that they may convey the lively oracles to every family of the earth. In this enterprise, Sir, who will refuse to unite, – not because it is thus new, but because it is con- nected with the dearest interests and hopes of man P It is, Sir, the long sought point of sympathy, of union of effort and feeling, to the distracted and con- vulsed Protestant world. At the door of the Bible Society, the Church of England man, the Presbyte- rian, the Congregationalist, the Baptist, the Meth- odist, the Moravian, all denominations, lay aside their badges of distinction. Here the jarring dialects of a NEW HAMPSHIRE BIBLE SOCIETY. 151 thousand sects meet in one harmonious language; a thousand wandering, perturbed, and noisy rivulets run together in one broad stream, one calm, pure, majes- tic river of love. At the threshold of this society, the . noble puts off the ermine, and salutes as his brother the poor believer who comes forward of his penury to enrich the treasury into which others have cast of their abundance. It is no small object, Sir, thus to harmonize the Christian world, to bring the extremes of Society to a place of mutual sympathy, to promote a feeling of mutual dependence and interest. This enterprise is, also, most intimately connected with the great kindred object of benevolent men in our time, – the promotion, I mean, of universal liberty. The Bible is a fatal enemy to tyranny, civil or eccle- siastical. Before the Reformation, one principal effect of which was the diffusion of the Bible in the vulgar dialect, there was as little of liberty as of religious intelligence in England. From the Reformation to the Revolution, which took place but a short time after our present translation was made, the only translation ever extensively circulated, the march of liberty and the diffusion of the Scriptures were alike inconsider- able. From this period, they have gone on together with constantly accelerated progress. Other causes are at work, but it cannot be doubted that the present liberty and increasing influence of the mass of the English population are in no small degree owing to the increased circulation and study of the Bible. Enumerate the advocates of liberty, and you will find, 152 SPEECH BEFORE THE I venture to say, the great body of them among those whose whole thoughts and feelings and dialect are most deeply tinctured by the Bible. Of this class were our fathers. It is not, perhaps, too much to say, that, where the Bible is universally read, man cannot be enslaved. Chains may bind his body, dungeons may immure it; but the soul walks abroad, conscious of its rank and rights, its relation to God and immor- tality. Nations of such minds will, in the end, be free. Pope and king are but names to them. A crown of diamonds and a golden sceptre can neither dazzle nor awe into slavery the man whose thoughts are conversant with the throne and unfading crown of heaven. While, then, our fellow-men are devot- ing their valor and their blood to the cause of free- dom in the South and the East, every man of us who sends a Bible to the destitute is a fellow-soldier in the conflict. The battles we wage are not battles of the warrior, with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood; but the victory is certain, our con- quests are permanent; the successes of skill and physical power may be reversed; the triumphs of truth are irreversible; what the Bible does for human liberty to-day is done for ever. In the struggle of liberty with power, which fills up the history of the world, human ingenuity has invented no such engine of war as the Bible. And for conquerors, Sir, no such crown is wrought as is wrought of God for those who conquer in this warfare. I have not time, Sir, to trace the influence of the NEW HAMPSHIRE BIBLE SOCIETY. 153 Bible upon human happiness, under the various cir- cumstances of life. I need not undertake it, if I had time. Those who hear me know full well how rich, how sweet, its consolations are ; what a zest it gives to the pleasures of life, what light it flings upon the grave, what inviting and boundless prospects it opens beyond it. I would not undervalue the happiness of the world. Full as life is of sorrows, sorrows which God only can relieve, it is also full of blessings. The eye, the ear, the smell, the touch, the taste, are all so many inlets of delight. The overhanging firmament, the earth with its changing landscape, its variety of hue and odor and fruit, the sweet intercourse of life, the profounder pleasures of taste and science, all be- speak the goodness of God. It is ungrateful not to acknowledge that goodness to the full. I ask you not to detract one iota from the calmness and ecstasy that, like the sweet influences of the South, come over the soul even of an enlightened pagan, as he looks abroad upon nature, with eye and ear alive to the spirit of beauty that informs and animates the face of the world, and breathes from every object in earth and heaven. I would not have you doubt that pagan fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters love as we do; that the tenderness of nature in their hearts flows out in the same channels and on the same occasions. I only ask if you can think this happiness complete without the knowledge of the Bi- ble, – if you are willing that any one, who has the feelings of a man, should be suffered to pass through 20 154 SPEECH BEFORE THE life without ever knowing who so fitted him to enjoy the world, and fitted the world to be enjoyed by him, without any true or useful understanding of the per- fection and purposes of his Creator and Judge, – if you are willing to die, with your knowledge and your hopes, in the full consciousness of never having made a single effort to communicate that knowledge and those hopes to the millions who are destitute of them. It is not necessary, in order to excite the sympathy of this audience, Sir, to detail the familiar horrors of the Indian superstition, to paint the tortures of the delud- ed Hindoo devotee, the wife ascending the funeral pile, or the mother casting her infant offspring from her bosom, to feed the alligator or the crocodile of some sacred river. Let us suppose, if the reiterated tale has not been too deeply engraven on the mind, let us suppose all this to be the fiction of a wild fan- cy. Fix your imagination, Sir, on the happiest family of the happiest land under heaven, in which the Bible is unknown. Concentrate round the domestic fireside all the charities of the parental, the filial, and the fra- ternal relations. Surround them with every blessing which the world can confer. Only let them be stran- gers to the Bible, let the consolations of God be ab- sent, and what a vacuity is left! The past may be rich in the memory of joys; the present may bloom and smile like Eden; the immediate future, too, may be “bright with hope’s enlivening beams”; but the distant, ah the distant future | They know that they must die, and they know nothing more. Years NEW HAMPSHIRE BIBLE SOCIETY. 155 roll rapidly away, and the fatal hour arrives. The parent on the threshold of the grave turns “the glazed eye” upon a wife, a son, a daughter, on whom he cannot know that he shall look again for ever, and who are equally ignorant whether the hand that now grasps theirs, with its “thrilling—O, how thrilling!— pressure,” will ever more be felt. With this world he has done, and no other world opens on his vision. He sinks into the grave, ignorant of all that awaits him beyond it, till it is too late for knowledge to be of any use to him. No messenger is permitted to return. Wife and children follow him in their turn; and the same gloomy and appalling scene is acted over again and again, until a family, whose enjoyments religion might have sanctified, whose sorrows it might have assuaged, whose dying hours it might have blest with light and hope and joy, whose mutual love it might have exalted and perpetuated, have all perished like the brute. - There are those before me, Sir, whose fortune it has been to commit parent and wife, and a group of sons and daughters, springing up in beauty, intelli- gence, and promise around them, to the inexorable grave. But you saw them tranquil, and full of hope and joy in death. You feel that you were kept from utter distraction by the assurance, that God was tak- ing them to his bosom, and would soon gather you to them. Ever since, in the intervals of business, the hours of meditation, you have called their willing shades around you, have held delightful converse with 156 SPEECH BEFORE THE them, at the grave, the altar, and the evening fireside. And then you have learned, as you go step by step to your own grave, to look into it with increasing resolu- tion; may I not say, sometimes with joyful anticipa- tion ? It is all light before you. No longer the dark mansion of the dead, it is the gate of life, all radiant with glory. What but the Bible, Sir, makes you thus to differ from the heathen Freely we have received, freely let us give. The man who endows a hospital or a college, who feeds the poor, who sacrifices his life or health or estate for the liberty, honor, or wealth of his country, is enrolled among the benefactors of the race. Numbers of such men make up all the glory of antiqui- ty, inspire all the romance and poetry of the world, and, in the opinion of the world, constitute the whole use- fulness and dignity of man. Let it be so. But, while it is so, let not us, who know that the gospel is the power of God to salvation, having the promise of the life that now is and of that which is to come, —let not us be ashamed or backward to offer up our prayers, and put forth our utmost efforts, that this gospel may be enjoyed by every human being. I most cheerfully move you, Sir, that the Report of the Directors be accepted. And I pray this audience, these fathers and moth- ers, whose Bible was the guide of their youth and has sweetened and purified their intercourse through life, whose children it has trained up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord ; these sons and daugh- NEW HAMPSHIRE BIBLE SOCIETY. 157 ters, dedicated to God from infancy, and “beloved for the fathers' sakes,”—by all the consolations which have sprung up in your path, by all the light and hope which settle on your eternal prospects, I beseech you to remember them who have no Bible. S P E E C H DELIVERED AT THE ANNUAL MEETING OF THE VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY, AT MONTPELIER, OCTOBER 18, 1826. MR. PRESIDENT:-I cordially concur in the wish which has just been expressed, that the Report of the Directors may be read through the State. I could have wished, Sir, that this whole Christian commu- nity might be present on this interesting occasion. It would be well for us thus to assemble, and to con- tribute to the aid of this cause, even if the whole benefit were confined to ourselves. It is a great thing for a man to cherish the desire and enjoy the con- sciousness of doing good. It makes another being of him; raises him up from communion with beasts to communion with God. It is a great thing and a new thing for men to associate together for the purpose of doing good. It is not only a distinguishing feature, it is one of the most auspicious signs of our time, that men of kin- dred spirit throughout the world are combining in this cause ; that they are assembling, from time to time, to contemplate together the great fields of Christian enterprise which are laying themselves out to the eye of benevolence with such increasing breadth, and SPEECH BEFORE THE VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY. 159 all “white unto harvest”; that they are statedly and unitedly called to thank God for what his arm has wrought, and to pledge themselves anew to God and to each other, on the faith and hope of Christians, that this great cause, which they have taken up on the divine promise, they will never forget, will never abandon. How are kindred imaginations and kin- dred hearts warmed, Sir, by this communion upon common objects! With what unwonted interest they go out together, and linger together among the ruins of our Jerusalem, or walk together round her bul- warks, and tell her towers, “when all these ruins shall be built again *. In this way our sympathies are expanded ; our benevolence is reanimated; the channels of every amiable and generous feeling are deepened ; the mind is led away from petty relations, the little, selfish interests which have so bound up and frozen the heart of man, to the great relations and common interests of the whole family of God. There has, it is true, been no lack of appeals to the fellow-feeling of men in other times. Philosophy and Christianity have reiterated their lessons and detailed their examples of mercy. History and biog- raphy have dwelt with peculiar fondness upon tales of woe. Genius has tasked its invention; and hu- man miseries have appealed to our hearts from the page of poetry and fiction. The canvass and the marble have been eloquent of grief. But it is not enough for us to weep over the woes of the world. Sentimentalism is not benevolence. So long as our 160 SPEECH BEFORE THE feelings, however true, however deep, are made to terminate in no positive acts of beneficence, both philosophy and experience teach us that we are the worse for those feelings. When, therefore, I see men beginning in a degree before unknown to do as well as feel, coming forward, acting in the great work of Christian beneficence on a large scale and by a gen- eral impulse, I seem to see society putting on a new face; I cannot but feel that an influence is exerting by these acts upon the very actors themselves not lightly to be estimated,—to be fully estimated only by another generation. With these views, Sir, I cannot join in the cry of complaint, when a few thousand dollars are raised among us to forward some religious enterprise of this day. I could not join in it, even if I believed that every dollar hitherto raised for this purpose were “in the deep bosom of the ocean buried.” I should, even then, esteem it money not ill spent, a price none too high for the blessedness and bene- fits of doing good. Shall we, Sir, pay more, every year, a hundred-fold, for the gratification of the eye, the ear, the taste, or the fancy, — more for the mere luxuries of life, – more for amusements, of at least questionable morality, than we contribute to all our religious charities together ; and yet shall it be deemed a matter of complaint, because a portion of the community choose to devote what they can spare to the objects of Christian philanthropy Shall we hear so little of the cry of bleeding patriotism, the VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY. 161 hearty eloquence of insulted reason and humanity, while these United States are annually expending more for the most fatal poison of body and soul that is manufactured upon the earth, than has been con- tributed for the propagation of the gospel by all Christendom in a hundred years; and yet shall the alarm of “religious mania” and “public imposition ” be rung through the land, because a few thousand dollars have been given to send the gospel to the destitute, – because a part of our population choose to find their luxuries in doing good P Sir, I am no ascetic. I love to see men enjoying freely and fully the rich bounties of God. I am for no community of goods. I love to see the honest gains of industry and frugality blessing our basket and our store. I would have men “diligent in busi- ness” and “increased in goods.” But I would not have them, in the midst of these eager and engross- ing pursuits, forget that there are higher, nobler objects for us. I would have them feel that thou- sands and tens of thousands of dollars are a paltry price to the community for minds elevated, hearts enlarged, habits of beneficence confirmed, and the ties of universal brotherhood strengthened and multi- plied. I would have them understand the blessedness of him “ who, though he was rich, for our sakes became poor, that we, through his poverty, might be rich’’; yes, rich, not in silver and gold, in houses and lands, but rich in character, in that “mind which was in Christ Jesus.” 21 162 SPEECH BEFORE THE But the influence of the Bible Society does not ter- minate in its members. Our contributions to this cause are not buried in the ocean. They shall all tell upon the history of the world. This society is inti- mately connected with the cause of education, the sub- ject perhaps of most general and most intense interest in our day. The Bible addresses the understandings of men, as no other system of religion ever did. It lays the foundation of all love, all zeal, of every feeling it would inspire, in truth, in intelligence. No form of wor- ship, no round of ceremonies, however costly, however imposing, no penance, however severe, can fulfil one, the least of its duties. Not only does it inculcate the improvement of the mind, the perfection of the in- tellectual and moral powers, as a proper offering, a sacred duty, to our intelligent Creator, as the only rational, the only ultimate pursuit of an intelligent creature; but it also presupposes, beyond all other systems of religion, a degree of intelligence without which it cannot be itself received. And it holds its inexhaustible blessings to be gradually imparted to the soul, as her immortal powers shall gradually and eternally expand to the light of truth. It is, therefore, Sir, utterly vain to think of diffus- ing Christianity without opening the understandings of men; without bringing under the habitual con- templation of their minds the great relations, powers, destinies, and duties of the soul, the works, the prov- idence, the grace of God, and God himself. For it is on these objects the gospel seeks to fix the admir- VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY. 163 ing and adoring heart of man. In the presence of these objects, it seeks to subdue the proud and alien- ated spirit to submission, to melt the stony heart to love, to raise the grovelling soul to purity and happi- ness. Besides, Sir, wherever you circulate the Bible, you give rise, of course, to an order of men peculiarly fitted by their close and endearing relation to the parent and the child, and peculiarly disposed by their great objects in life, to foster the interests of educa- tion. We shall search the history of the world in vain for a class of men so uniformly, so cordially, so successfully devoted to these interests as the primitive and the Protestant clergy. No sooner had Christian- ity obtained a footing in the Roman empire, than schools of human, as well as divine, learning were seen springing up everywhere. The gymnasia of Ephesus, of Smyrna, of Alexandria, of Rome, of An- tioch, of Edessa, of Caesarea, and of other places, were lasting and illustrious monuments of the zeal of the primitive clergy in the cause of education. I think of England, too, of Scotland, of Protes- tant Switzerland, and, above all, of our own dear land, over whose valleys and hills the parish church, the schoolhouse, the academy, and the college lie sprinkled together in such beautiful and sacred fellow- ship. Where else are the poor so taught, the orphan so trained, the free school and the Sabbath school so thronged, as where the house of God, by the very neatness and whiteness of its exterior and by its in- ternal accommodations, bears testimony to a prevalent 164: SPEECH BEFORE THE respect for the service, and an ardent attachment to the ministers of God? Where are all the interests of education so pros- perous as where the Bible and a worthy clergy have taken the deepest hold upon the public mind Cir- culate the Bible, then, Sir, and you lay a foundation for a deep and permanent interest in education, — in the universal diffusion of knowledge, the point on which seems to me essentially to turn all the pros- pects of liberty, of rational government, and social happiness, which so brighten and cheer our age. The genius and knowledge of the few have proved over and over again utterly inadequate to secure the great ends of civil society. It only remains to be proved whether those ends can be secured by the universal dissemination of intelligence. As we value this great, last experiment of liberty, as we prize our own insti- tutions, so essentially based upon intelligence, let us do what in us lies to diffuse the Bible. It shall scat- ter far and wide the rays of all knowledge. It shall light every man that cometh into the world. From the creation to the Christian era, what else is hu- man history, but the history of conquest and defeat, of revenge and blood What tradition, what le- gend, what tale of wonder, in all that period, so held the ear of infancy, or fell with such enchanting eloquence from the lips of age, that was not more or less remotely connected with the ferocious and fatal struggle of man with man f About whose names are gathered the charms of ancient history Whose VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY. 165 are the enterprise, the enthusiasm, the lofty passion so woven into ancient poetry: The theme and bur- den of that history and that poetry are men of war and deeds of blood. Yes, Sir, the subjugation, the destruction, of men by men have employed more talent, and cost the world far greater sacrifices of treasure and of life, than all other human objects together. And the first appear- ance of a better spirit, of milder and purer motives, the first appearance of any thing like a rational sense of national honor and happiness, independent of arms, was when the Prince of Peace came down from God. Though war has not since ceased among Christian nations, its atrocities are greatly mitigated. Though modern Europe has been bathed and bathed in blood, human skill and industry have there found satisfactory rewards in other pursuits. National glory and happi- ness have there been built up on other foundations. And it has at length come to pass that her nations have generally paused altogether from the work, and, instead of tasking their ingenuity to invent occasions of war, seem to shrink from it with a degree of hor- ror, to look upon it as the last resort of an insulted or injured people. “ They have learned,” it has been said, “ that war is not their interest.” They have begun to feel, it may also be said, that war is neither rational, nor Christian, nor tolerable. This change, this most important and interesting change, not as I regard it in the reasonings only, but in the spirit also, of Christian nations, I ascribe, in 166 SPEECH BEFORE THE great part, to the Bible. It is just the change which the Bible professes to produce, which the Bible is eminently fitted to produce. The spirit of the Bi- ble and the spirit of war cannot pervade the same world. Not that our peace societies, or the direct advocates of peace from the pulpit or the press, much as they have done, have accomplished all this. The work began with the earliest influence of the Bible upon society. I see its progress in the increased respect which the Bible has produced of man for man; in the new value it has attached to human life; in the sacredness which its great doctrines of im- mortality and responsibility have thrown around the mortal dwellers upon earth. I see it, also, in the extension of human sympathies beyond the narrow limits of clan and country; in the prayer we raise for all men to the common God of all; and in the consciousness derived from the Bible, and so fitted to mitigate all human animosities, of sharing in common frailties, common wants, a common apostasy, and a common destiny. The Bible has, in eighteen centu- ries, done so little towards the utter abolition of war, only because it has been so imperfectly disseminated. It is but three or four hundred years since the inven- tion of printing gave us the means of thoroughly diffusing it through society. And this invention has been extensively applied to the purpose only within these very few years, within the memory of most of those who hear me. Instead of wondering, therefore, at the imperfection VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY. 167 of its conquests over the spirit of society, I rather won- der, that, in the short time which has elapsed since any thing was systematically attempted, so much has been done. And when I think what has been accom- plished in thirty years; what facilities have been in- vented for printing and circulating the Bible ; into what new and convenient forms its truths have been wrought; how many Christian tracts and periodical works are now pervading the world; how many minds and hearts and presses are engaged in this work; what multiplied and multiplying resources are brought to bear upon it; — when I call to mind that kings and statesmen are attracted to the spectacle, – when I hear from lips unaccustomed to panegyric upon the Christian faith, or any thing connected with it, that the progress of the gospel is among the most distinguishing features of this most peculiar age, – I cannot but feel that some of us who sit here to-day may yet live to see the spirit of the Bible upon the subject of war become the spirit of all Christendom; may yet live to thank God, on some future occasion like the present, that the nations are learning war no more. O, Sir, little as most of us personally know of its horrors, we know enough from history, we hear enough from bleeding, mangled Greece, our fathers and mothers have told us enough, to make it, even to us, a reflection fit to soothe the anguish of death, that, though born ourselves among scenes of blood, we leave our sons and our daughters with men of peace. If by our utmost efforts it shall be given to us to see 168 SPEECH BEFORE THE the truths of the Bible circulated through every vein and artery of society, this shall be among the con- solations of our dying hour. But the effects of the Bible upon the cause of education and the peace of the world are among its merely accidental advantages, – advantages so little thought of by the sacred writers, under the overwhelm- ing influence of its great, express, direct object, that they rarely speak of it as having any thing to do with the transitory interests of this world. It comes to us with the inscription, “The power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation.” And when I hear an apostle declaring to “the people and elders of Israel,” who set the name of Jesus at naught, “There is no other name under heaven, given among men, whereby we must be saved,” I feel that I want words to add to the momentous import of that declaration. It would give me the truest joy to know that the whole family of the benighted nations, shut out as they are from the Christian hope of eternal life, and all the joys which cluster and brighten about that blessed hope, as we draw nearer to the grave, are yet to be gath- ered around the throne of Christ and join in the song of the Lamb. But, Sir, all my speculations, my rea- sonings from the power and the love of God, my conjectures, my wishes, I try to bring and lay down before the authority of the Bible. I am willing the Father of all the families of the earth should be their judge. And when, coming in this temper to the “lively oracles,” I hear the compassionate Jesus VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY. I69 saying to the apostle of the Gentiles, “I now send thee to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that,”—mark the object, Sir, –“that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified, by faith that is in me,”— when, from such lips, I hear such a commission, and read afterwards of the toils and sacrifices and deaths which the great missionary thought not too much to be endured in the execution of that commission, I conclude, I must conclude, that those Gentiles had no prospect of “forgiveness,” no prospect of an “inherit- ance among them which are sanctified,” unless their eyes should be opened, and they should be turned to God by the gospel. And, if such was the condition of those Gentiles to whom Paul was sent, such the condition of the disciples of Socrates and Plato, the countrymen of the Catos and the Plinies, joyful wor- shippers in the mild and beautiful forms of the clas- sical superstitions, I cannot doubt, without question- ing the authority of the Bible itself, that the word of God is the only hope, the only salvation, of the gross and polluted idolaters of our own time. I therefore ask these friends of education, friends of peace, friends of the salvation of men, to con- sider the claims of the Bible Society upon their prayers, their influence, and their estates. I pray them to weigh well the great ends of human effort and human life; and to resolve, as God shall help them, what they have to do in the effort which 22 170 SPEECH BEFORE THE is making to give the Bible to the whole world. I call upon them by their interest in the cause of education, by their horror of the atrocities and mise- ries of war, by their compassion for the delusions of the pagan world. I call upon them as philanthropists and as Christians; as American Christians, rejoicing in a sense of character, a degree of civil and social happiness, and an enthusiasm for liberty and the pure worship of the Bible, nowhere else to be found among men. I beseech them to give to this society their open, decided, and efficient patronage. We cannot, Sir, be insensible to the value of the Bible. We cannot forget what it has done for New England. To forget it, we must shut our eyes upon these de- lightful hills, the asylum and legacy of the Pilgrim Christians. Happy, happy above all men, were our fathers in those great lines of character, and those great principles of liberty, which they had drawn from the Bible; and rash will it be in us to think of establishing liberties and happiness like our own on any other foundation. It is one thing to overturn the empire of the Turk or the Spaniard; it is another thing to build up the empire of liberty upon its ruins. We may exhaust our mines; we may equip our gallant young men to fight and die by thousands on the plains of Greece and South America; but, if we cannot impart something of our own character to those portions of the earth, we cannot impart to them our freedom or our happiness. There is nothing in history to encourage the attempt. The monuments VERMONT BIBLE SOCIETY. 171 of perished nations, with which the earth is filled, all warn us from it. From every solitary ruin of the Old World comes a voice that makes the blood stand still. And who of us, Sir, can forget his own personal obligations to the Bible Who of us will not remem- ber, while he remembers any thing, the blessed pre- cepts that fell with such melting sweetness from ma- ternal lips; the faith that early and devoutly dedicated us to duty and to God at the baptismal altar; the tears of pious solicitude, that so ran down the maternal cheek; the prayer in which all our waywardness and accumulated guilt were evermore remembered; and the dying benediction,-ah, Sir, that last, that richest blessing of a mother's heart!—resting, like a sanctify- ing oil, upon our heads: Who of us can be insensible to the nameless blessings of a Christian education f Let those before me name the price at which they would consent to shut up their Bibles for ever, to close for ever the doors of the sanctuary, to break down the family altar, to shut up the consecrated closet, to bring over the scenes of Bethlehem, of Calvary, and of Olivet an everlasting oblivion, to restore again to the grave its darkness and its terrors, – in a word, to extinguish in their own hearts and the hearts of their children every consolation and every hope of the Bible; let them name the price for which they would consent to do this, – let them do it on one of those Sabbath evenings when, the hallowed light yet lingering in the sweet and tranquil west, they have 172 SPEECH BEFORE THE VERMONT BIBLE SocIETY. gathered round the family fireside to close up their holy solemnities by teaching the little hearts of their children to glow, and their lips to tremble, with the praises of Jesus, the children's friend, the parent’s hope, – and I will leave it to them to say, Sir, what they will do for the diffusion of the Bible; how much they can spare of what God has given them, to make God’s goodness known to the whole world. OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT RINDGE, SEPTEMBER 5, 1827. OBJECTIONS exist to a greater extent in this State, perhaps, than in some other portions of the country, where the subject has been more fully discussed, against the object itself of the Education Society. One of the most common and most important of the objections formerly urged by discerning men is entirely removed by the practice lately adopted, of loaning without interest, instead of giving money. This change in the administration of pecuniary aid has the double advantage of preserving the natural sense of independence, the delicate and honorable feelings of the youthful mind, while it holds out new and suffi- cient motives to personal exertion and economy. The beneficiary is no longer in danger of contracting habits of servility and meanness, or of feeling himself entitled to the charity of the community. Nor, on the other hand, is he oppressed and disheartened by the pros- pect of an ever-accumulating debt. If it be still urged, that young men of native talent 174, OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. and genuine enthusiasm will always work their own way to usefulness and distinction, — that the struggle which it costs them is the very discipline which best fits them for eminent influence; we reply, that this society fully appreciates these considerations. We feel as deeply as any men, that true genius, excited by fervent zeal, is, in its nature, irrepressible. We know, that, though poverty may obscure it, though dif- ficulties may overwhelm it, it will ultimately break forth, will triumph in its strength, and assert its pre- rogative to guide the minds and mould the characters of men. We glory, in common with others, in the names of the distinguished men who, in all ages, and more especially in our own country, have emphatically made themselves. We should truly deprecate a sys- tem of education the tendency of which is to substi- tute an effeminate and sickly constitution of mind for the self-confiding, enterprising, magnanimous traits so often produced by the embarrassments and dangers which genius has encountered in early life. But we believe there is far more genius in the world than is ever developed. And one of our objects is to discov- er it, — to give it opportunity to act and to make it- self known to its possessor. Accident occasionally convinces a youth that he has intellectual strength. We would multiply his opportunities for this discovery, by furnishing facilities to prove the character of his mind. There is, also, a great amount of talent of an inferior description, but almost equally useful, as the world now is, which must be carefully nourished, - OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. 175 must be trained by persevering discipline, must be urged by various motives, before it will acquire much vigor, or the confidence which is indispensable to success. Those who are conversant with the business of education are aware how large a portion even of those who ultimately become useful and efficient men discover no great indications of talent till a late period, and seem to be urged forward mainly by the power of external circumstances. On men of this class we need not say how much the church de- pends in an age like the present, when the industry, zeal, and prudence of minds merely respectable have within their reach almost as much of all that is fit to excite ambition as was formerly offered to the highest order of genius. There is still another consideration to be taken into the account. The demands of our literary institutions and of the public are greatly in- creased. To keep pace with his equals, and to enter upon the business of life with promise, a young man must be able to appropriate nearly all his time to study, to bring an undivided, undistracted mind to the pursuit of knowledge, the contest for distinction in all that ought to distinguish the candidate for the gospel ministry. In former times, charity was administered by individuals, and individuals looked up objects of that charity. The fashion now is to associate for this purpose. The expectation in the public mind, conse- quently, is, that worthy objects will be sought out and assisted by those societies to which they are regularly called upon to contribute. So that, if we have not 176 OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. societies for charitable education, the public munifi- cence will inevitably be turned into other channels; and we shall contribute even less for the education of pious young men than was contributed, in a private way, by former generations. Perhaps the objection to our object most difficult to be removed is that founded on the unfortunate and lamentable misconduct of individuals. We feel most deeply the reproach which has been brought upon the cause by the unchristian deportment of here and there one of those young men who have enjoyed our pa- tronage, and of whom we hoped better things. But should we wonder that all hold not out to the end ? Are we men? have we studied the history of man do we know our own hearts P- and can we marvel, that, out of a multitude, taken, as they must of neces- sity be, from every condition of life, with every variety of previous culture, and all, as our very object sup- poses them to be, all young, too, and inexperienced,— can we be surprised, that, out of such a multitude, any one should prove himself to be unfit for our pa- tronage On such principles as this objection sup- poses, what effort could be made for the relief or im- provement of man f If, because a small proportion will abuse their advantages and disappoint our hopes, we will do nothing, who can be educated for any pur- suit in life? what parent will make sacrifices for his children f what Christian will labor and suffer, as did Paul and his friends, to train up men for the kingdom of heaven We trust that you, brethren, knowing OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. 177 that what is human is fallible, and feeling that God has nowhere promised to the efforts of his people un- qualified and uninterrupted success, will go forward under the full conviction, that, though, in the divine providence, some should deceive and wound us, it will be true of few ; that enough will escape the pol- lutions of the world, and rise to Christian and minis- terial usefulness, –more than enough, a thousand-fold, —to reward all your exertions and all your sacrifices. Your reliance is on the promise of God and the ex- perience of the past. We have found but one other objection to our ef- forts. It is sometimes said, and we have reason to believe it is an argument a good deal relied upon by an intelligent portion of the community, that, in this case as in all others, an adequate demand for labor will infallibly call that labor into existence; and that, consequently, all attempts to multiply ministers in any other way have a direct tendency to withdraw an important class of men from spheres in which they might be useful, and to place them where the public have no occasion for their services. If there be no fallacy in this reasoning, we are certainly ill employed; a large portion of the Christian world is ill employed; the best men of all ages have wasted time in idle prayer to the Lord of the harvest, “ that he would send forth laborers into his harvest.” If this reasoning be sound, it cannot be that the laborers in the days of Jesus were few ; they are never few, when equal to the demand of the people. And where 23 178 OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. do we read of any demand for Christian instruction among those who rejected and put to death the great high-priest of our profession, and nearly all whom he ordained to be the ministers of his gospel P But, in the first place, we reply to the objection, that there is evidently very great difference between the clerical and other professions in the motives which they hold out. From the prospect of wealth and political importance the minister of the gospel is en- tirely excluded. And such are the demands upon him as a pastor, that he has certainly no peculiar pros- pects of literary distinction. On the other hand, he is compelled to feel a kind of personal responsibility to the public, which a majority of young men must be reluctant to assume, and would find it difficult to sus- tain. In the second place, there have always prevailed, and we trust, notwithstanding the dissemination of other views in some parts of the country, there will continue to prevail, ideas of the ministerial character which prevent a vast majority of our educated young men from ever entertaining, for a moment, the ques- tion, whether they shall spend their lives in preaching the gospel. They feel that it would shock them, and would shock the community, if, without a character which they are conscious of wanting, they should ap- proach to minister in the name of Jesus at his public altars. If, then, our object were only to answer the actual demands for ministerial labor, it is obvious that the OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. 179 clerical profession must hold but a feeble competition with the other departments of professional life. But we entertain other views of the education of men for the gospel ministry. To this objection we reply, there- fore, in the third place, that the demand for ministerial labor is no proper measure of our obligation on this subject. The object of the gospel ministry is to ele- vate the moral character of men, to interest them in the truths and duties and hopes of our holy religion. And are these objects the less important, the more in- sensible men have become to their importance Shall the moral health and salvation of the human family be sought with the less earnestness, because they are dead in trespasses and sins Are we to make no at- tempt to do men good, because they are so far gone in sin as to be insensible of their condition f Nor may it be said that ministers can do no good, where the people are unprepared to employ them. It is their business to prepare men to esteem and remunerate their labors. It is by ministerial efforts that men are excited to seek for permanent Christian instruction and the regular administration of the sacred ordinan- CeS. By such efforts the first congregations were assem- bled, the primitive churches were gathered. By such efforts has been created nearly all the demand which has been made, in all lands and in all ages, for the preaching of the gospel, since the ascension of our Lord. While Judea and Galilee and all Asia were sleeping in forgetfulness of the duties which they 180 OBJECTIONS TO CHARITABLE EDUCATION. owed to God, and the destinies which awaited them beyond the grave, here and there a man appeared in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, erected the standard of the cross, and sounded the trumpet of the gospel. Around him were soon gathered a few individuals ea- ger for instruction and rejoicing in hope. They spread the news from friend to friend, and from neighbour to neighbour. Their example, their eloquence, their prayers, their new-created character attracted atten- tion, won affection, carried home conviction. Friend after friend, and neighbour after neighbour, was added to the Lord. Thus arose the churches which Paul planted, and which have left a glory upon Asia, beau- tiful and lovely in our eyes, through all the darkness of succeeding centuries. Exactly similar is the pro- cess by which churches are organized and religious institutions established in the destitute portions of Christian lands. The domestic missionary goes into places where the sacred ordinances are not adminis- tered, the Sabbath is scarcely observed, religion has almost no hold upon the minds of men. By little and little he interests a neighbourhood, introduces the hab- it of assembling for public worship, awakens a more and more general respect for the gospel, and convin- ces the people that they must have among them the regular administration of the Christian ordinances. Thus a town, long without suitable religious instruc- tion, is enabled to enjoy and transmit to posterity the blessings of Christian worship and the pastoral care. THE STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT SALISBURY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1828. THE more the education of young men for the ministry has been considered by your Directors, and the more their observation of the divine providence is extended, the more important the cause appears to them, in reference to the destitute portions of our own Zion, to all the great interests of our country, and to the progress of knowledge and piety through- out the world. Although the subject has been presented in almost every light of which it is susceptible, and the great motives to exertion in the cause have been urged with eloquence, there is, nevertheless, one consideration which seems to us not to have attracted the atten- tion it deserves. When the American Education Society was organ- ized, and discourses were pronounced and published in defence of it, no small excitement was produced in a portion of the public. It was by some even gravely and pertinaciously maintained, that, if the 182 STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. heart is right, there need be no solicitude about the preparation of the understanding; that the inward call of the Spirit is in itself abundant assurance that no necessary gift will be withheld; and that to insist on a systematical and protracted course of prep- aration for the holy ministry is to disregard the les- sons of the apostolic history, and to undervalue the grace and promise of the great Head of the church. Language like this is, indeed, at present, seldom heard from any considerable denomination of Chris- tians, or any respectable portions of the community. The beneficial effects of careful and thorough educa- tion for the pulpit have become so manifest, the wants of the churches and of the desolate portions of the earth have at the same time been so faithfully and so affectingly portrayed, and the demand for ministers has so obviously increased beyond the in- crease of their numbers, that the enterprise in which we are engaged has now comparatively little obloquy and little direct opposition to encounter. It is to be feared, however, that, without the utmost vigilance and exertion, a spirit will gain strength in the public mind even more hostile to the best interests of the church than the direct opposition over which our society has thus triumphed. What renders such a spirit most worthy to be deprecated is, that it may unconsciously take possession of the ministry and churches themselves. Though it is not supposed, at least among the denominations of Christians associ- ated with us in benevolent exertion, that men, how- STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. 183 ever devout and enthusiastic in doing good, can expect knowledge in divinity, more than other knowl- edge, to be miraculously communicated; yet the stand- ard of education for the pulpit, unless sustained by the united efforts of the reflecting and patriotic and pious, is in danger of being gradually and silently let down. True, it is an age of excitement on the subject of education, in all its branches and in all its stages, from the most elementary to the professional. Never was there a period of greater excitement. Never were so many minds engaged in the invention of new methods, the multiplication of new books, new instru- ments of science, and new models of art. Never were the observations of the teaching world so thor- ough, so minute, and so brought together for com- parison and induction on this all-engrossing subject. Never did experience and philosophy so unite their skill for perfecting the systems of education. And we are aware that in an age of such unexampled ex- ertions, while theological institutions, richly endowed and ably conducted, are springing up all over the land, and while a regular course of three years’, in- stead of three months’ study, is becoming fashionable, it must startle many like a paradox to suggest that the standard of theological learning is in any danger of being depressed. - But, if we mistake not, it is rather the diffusion and the facility of education than its thoroughness and perfection that so agitates the world. Much as 184 STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT, is done to make “ripe and good” scholars, the great object is still not so much to carry scholarship to its utmost height, as to bring every man under the elevating influence of knowledge. Action, and not study, is the watchword of the vigorous and the enterprising of our day. Almost nothing is popular, that is not seen to be immediately connected with practical ends. Utility, not ultimate and general, but direct and palpable utility, is becoming quite too much the standard of every pursuit. New enterprises of benevolence, new channels of active exertion, new methods of doing good, are the objects of inquiry. Profound speculation, the devotion of day and night to the works of those great minds which have striven to fathom the depths of truth and of human nature, to draw their principles of duty and of influ- ence from the deep fountains of divine philosophy, are in danger of going out of fashion. The new and shorter methods of education engage the public at- tention, and call to their pursuit, as by a charm, the aspiring and impatient youth of the land. In support of this view of the spirit of the times, we might appeal to the controversy carried on with such increased ardor on the subject of classical learn- ing. The objections to the usual course of Latin and Greek in our academies and colleges are undoubtedly specious and imposing. And it is not strange that a large portion of the community should be ready to believe the time devoted to them nearly or quite wasted. That so many years can be profitably em- STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT, 185 ployed in acquiring an imperfect knowledge of lan- guages which no living being speaks, or expects to speak, appears to many unreasonable, if not absurd. We are not about to enter the lists of discussion on this subject. Valuable as we deem the study of the classics, we regard the question, whether they shall hold their place in our literary institutions, as of trifling importance in comparison with what we consider the real and momentous question at issue, – whether the cultivation and development of the mind in all its power and beauty shall be esteemed as in itself an unworthy object; whether whatever is taste- ful and scholarlike shall be sacrificed to the vulgar and the superficial. Without undervaluing the directly useful influence of the study of the classics, so often and so ably demonstrated, we take another, and, as we regard it, a broader, view of the subject; and we venture to predict, that, if the spirit which has risen up in the land should triumph, and expel these ancient - teachers of wisdom and models of taste from their - seats of instruction, another age will see and feel that - with them fled the liberal learning, the fine taste, the harmonious and beautiful mental constitution of the fathers. Were the question merely, whether we ought to encourage a thorough acquaintance with the Greek and Roman classics, or whether we ought rather to recommend the employment of the same time and expense in the study of the models of English genius and learning, it would, in our view, matter compara- 24 186 STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. tively little how the question might be decided. We doubt not the vast superiority of our own to any and to all of the literatures of antiquity. But it cannot be concealed from those who listen to the arguments of our opponents, that it is, in fact, the TIME they consume, and not the SUBJECT of attention, which gives such umbrage to the enemies of the classics. It is the long and weary way, not the region through which it lies, that so offends them. Were their object accomplished, and were the study of the English tongue and of English authors, instead of the classi- cal, pursued at the same expense, and for the same period, -were the student employed for years in ana- lyzing his native dialect, — in tracing its elements and its construction to their sources, as he might do to some extent without much knowledge of other tongues, – in studying its adaptation to various sub- jects, its variety and power of expression, its harmony and beauty,+in distinguishing the peculiarities of in- dividual authors, the occasions on which they wrote, the circumstances which called forth and characterized their powers, the original conception and ultimate form of their immortal works, the spirit they breathe, and the sources from which it was nourished, the influence they have exerted, and the infinitely varied exhibitions of judgment and taste which they present, - were these the subjects of long and patient atten- tion, the very men, who are now so loud in their lamentation over the waste of industry and time in the study of Latin and Greek, would raise a similar STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. 1.87 and equal outcry against the unprofitable pursuit of useless and obsolete English learning. They mistake the true objects of all this preparatory study. We would bring hither no scholastic prejudices. We know that knowledge which tends not to fit men for usefulness is vain and will vanish away. But we know, too, that no great good can be done, in this age especially, without thorough discipline and per- fect control of the mental powers. There must be mind, or there can be no influence. And there can be no mind, of an efficient and useful character, without patient and long-continued training of the faculties, – without intimate and persevering com- munion with other minds, of the living or the dead. Mental eacercise produces mental strength, and pre- pares for manly exertion. To mental exercise the motives, and the only motives, are found in sugges- tions from without, — from material nature, or from other minds. When the student reads a book under- standingly and thoroughly, the effect of it is to con- duct his mind through all the successive states of perception, of reasoning, of imagination, and of emo- tion, through which the mind of the author passed in the composition of it. And the great use of this effect is, that, like the effect of swinging the sledge on the arm of the smith, it produces new vigor and susceptibility of exertion, — communicates the well known power of habit, the habit of mental action; a power, like that acquired by the smith, susceptible of application to any purpose for which it may be needed. 188 STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. From every effort which the mind makes to take in the conceptions of the poet, to embrace the conclu- sions of the philosopher, or to apprehend the distinc- tions of the logician and the philologer, it is training, is accumulating power for efficient action in the ser- vice of mankind. Nor has invention yet discovered any other mode of improving the mental powers. If the effect be produced, if the powers of the mind be really developed, and in due proportion, no matter how short or how easy the process. But let us be- ware, lest, in abridging the process, we fail of the end. The time may come, for aught we know, when the truths of science may be ground out by machines, improved on the concentric circles and wheels of Lully and Kircher, the cylinders of a grammarian of our own, or the equally ingenious and more modest contrivance of the professor of Lagado. Ideas may be forced into the mind by wind or steam ; but no device has yet been conceived or attempted by which intellect can be developed, or a single power of the mind strengthened and perfected, without ideas. And until new modes of acquiring them are discovered, it cannot be unwise to employ the old ones, at whatever expense of time and patience. We have dwelt, it may be thought, too long on this topic. But it has seemed to us worthy of particular attention from the clergy of this time, and from all engaged in educating men for the ministry. In no class of the community is the characteristic action of the age more strikingly exhibited than in the minis- STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. 189 ters of the gospel. From the time the youth indulges the purpose of preaching, the objects which occupy his thoughts are the great charitable enterprises of the day; the production of effects palpable, describable, and immediate ; influences somewhere, at home or abroad, which shall mark his success, and go to mag- nify the animating and imposing triumphs of Chris- tianity, spread out on the pages of our religious magazines, reports, and newspapers. Practical and immediate effect is ever in his view. As soon as he is settled, his church and parish, too, under the influ- ence of the same spirit, are calling upon him for an amount of parochial duty which seems to leave no time for study, and scarcely time for the most hasty and imperfect weekly preparation for the pulpit. Let the standard of intellectual character in the ministry, and of theological knowledge, be depressed, let the attractions from the study be multiplied and strengthened for a few generations, and the conse- quences are obvious. Learning will again be dises- teemed in the church; thorough preparation for the ministry will be neglected; and, if history deceive us not, ignorance of God and insensibility on the sub- ject of eternal life will return to brood over the world for another thousand years. The tide of benevolence will ebb; the streams of charity will stagnate; an- other Wickliffe and another Luther must be raised up by the fostering hand of knowledge and the in- spiration of God to wake the world from another sleep of ages. 190 STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. The consequences we deprecate are not, indeed, in their nature sudden. They are not to be expected in our day. But so surely as the standard of learning and theological research is depressed among the cler- gy, the clergy will sink towards insignificance and contempt. So certainly as the amount of mind in the service of the church is diminished, the great results of mental energy will dwindle away. If the intelli- gence and judgment which have been applied to the explanation and application of the truths of the Bible are lessened and disesteemed, the reasonableness and beauty and power of those truths will disappear. Open the volume of history, and you will find that the Bible has reflected upon every age the character of the clergy of that age. Unchangeable, indeed, it has itself remained from generation to generation ; but unchanged it has not appeared to men. Like the sun, it has been fixed, an unfading, unvarying light in the moral firmament. But its effulgence, like that of the sun, also, poured upon the world through an ever- changing medium, and reflected from ever-changing objects, has exhibited in succession all the hues which light can assume. We entertain the deepest sense of the extent and value of the theological learning of this age. We would not exchange the stores of knowledge, or the habits of interpretation of the Bible, possessed by liv- ing ministers, of our own country, for all the learned lore of all the Mathers of ages past. But such men must be sustained and encouraged by the spirit of STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. 191 their time, or they will one by one pass away, and leave no successors. Nor can any means preserve and increase a spirit and a depth of research favorable to the multiplication of such men, but the habits of reflection and study induced by well directed and long continued preparatory discipline. Formerly, though hastily and ill prepared for their work at first, ministers found leisure and excitements to devote themselves to study amidst the active duties of their calling. But it is vain to hope, that, in this age, men introduced into the ministry without minds expanded, without a relish for laborious and patient investigation firmly established, and a taste for the more recondite truth and beauty of the Christian system in a good degree mature, will make themselves masters of their profession amidst the distracting calls of ministerial life, its incessant demands for action, and its strong temptations to superficial inquiry and to fascinating and uninstructive reading. The man who is now settled in the ministry, an ill-bred scholar and a su- perficial theologian, will probably continue such till he dies. He may do great good in his generation, but will, in many cases, leave an influence upon his people to be lamented for fifty or a hundred years. We would not insinuate that a practical and im- mediate influence is, in its nature, inconsistent with the profoundest learning, the deepest views of divine truth. To be permanent, ministerial influence must be founded upon such views. The broad and pro- found principles of religious truth, and a thorough 192 STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. acquaintance with the operations of the human mind, are the only basis of a lasting control over the pas- sions and pursuits of men. Indeed, to the expanded views and liberal spirit of our most thorough and accomplished theologians we are indebted for the benevolent enterprises and increased activity of our time. It is only when present influence is sought by other means than the agency of well defined and well grounded opinion, that such influence is to be feared and deprecated, as carrying in itself the seeds of its own destruction and of a powerful reaction upon the cause of Christ. Without deepness of earth, our systems of beneficence will wither away, and fill with pestilence the atmosphere in which they grew up fragrant and beautiful. The evils on which we have thus dwelt it is the direct tendency of education societies to prevent. They aim not only to multiply the preachers of right- eousness, but to give them effectual aid in obtaining a competent preparation for their work, - to give them an impulse, at the outset, which shall carry them forward in the pursuit of knowledge, against all the counteracting influence of the spirit of the time and the pressing calls of active life. Doubtless, the increased and increasing demand for ministerial labor will call forth supplies of some kind. If intelligent and qualified preachers cannot be had, the ignorant and incompetent will be employed. The call of an excited people for religious privileges and spiritual guidance will, to some extent, and in some STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT, 193 manner, be answered. It is in no small degree in the power of education societies to say to what extent, and in what manner, this call shall be answered. Could we train and send forth yearly one hundred thorough-bred and right-minded clergymen, we should not only in the best manner prepare for usefulness so many individuals, but we should set up here and there over the land so many models of the clerical character, to show the people what pastors should be, and what pastors may be had to break to them the bread of life, and to guide the feet of their children into the paths of salvation. We should also plant men here and there of powerful influence on the neighbouring cler- gy, - men able to give a tone to theological literature in their vicinity, to elevate and improve the style of preaching, and to enlarge the prevalent views of min- isterial qualifications. Numerous examples might be adduced to show the power of a single minister of well regulated and well furnished mind, deeply im- bued with an evangelical spirit, to change the entire character of the ministry and of the churches over a large extent of country. So strikingly superior is he to the ill-taught, and so frequent are his opportunities of exhibiting the fruits of superior study and superior taste, as well as piety, in his exchanges, at the meet- ings of associations and of numerous societies, and on other nameless occasions, that it would be difficult to estimate the influence of a hundred well educated ministers, annually settled in the land, in sustaining and elevating still higher the standard of ministerial 25 194, STANDARD OF EDUCATION FOR THE PULPIT. learning and usefulness. Who, then, shall tell the blessings which it is in our power to confer on our country, in all time to come, by doubling and trebling this number 2 Let us take the most enlarged view of this subject; let us feel that every effort made in this cause not only contributes to furnish some destitute church with the ordinances of our holy religion, some scattered flock with a shepherd to lead them to green pastures and still waters and carry the lambs in his bosom, or to send a living witness of the truth to pagan lands, but tends, also, directly to elevate the character of the whole gospel ministry, directs to a higher object the eyes of all who aspire to the sacred work, and thus raises the tone of knowledge and of piety in the church- es, hastening the promised day of the glory of Zion. And forget not to encourage in all who are looking forward to the ministry, and in all who have the priv- ilege of training others for the sacred office, a high regard for manly and thorough learning, for taste and lucid reasoning, for whatever is instructive or persua- sive in the attributes of mind, or holy and enterprising and self-denying in the Christian character. Pray habitually and fervently that God would bless our humble endeavours to raise up for successors to the holy apostles, and to the servants of the Lord who have inherited their mantle in successive ages, a gen- eration of workmen who need not be ashamed, whose work the fire of the judgment day shall make manifest to be not of wood, hay, stubble, but of gold and silver and precious stones. THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT NEWPORT, SEPTEMBER 6, 1829. THE Directors regret that they are again obliged to appear before the Society with nothing of impor- tance to report. They are, however, most happy, on this occasion, to mingle in the congratulations of all the friends of learning and religion for the success that has crowned the kindred enterprise, to which our own has been hitherto postponed. The subscription of thirty thousand dollars for the benefit of the Col- lege has at length, with great labor and perseverance, and through the self-denial and toils of the present accomplished and excellent head of the institution, and his immediate predecessor, been filled up. Though far from being made rich by this addition to its funds, the College is, at least, raised above despondency; its debts will be paid off, and its accommodations and literary advantages materially increased. The im- provements in its buildings, undertaken amidst accu- mulated embarrassments and without resources, but in strong reliance on the ultimate aid of the community, are already nearly completed. Two spacious and 196 THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. commodious edifices of brick have been erected; the old college has been extensively repaired; a meat and ample chapel, a library for the College and for each of the literary societies, a public hall, a philosophical room, a mineralogical cabinet, and lecture-rooms for the several classes, have been formed in it; the grounds in front have been smoothed and provision made for inclosing them, and means obtained for im- portant additions to the library and philosophical ap- paratus;– all tending to give increased respectability and attraction to our ancient and venerable seat of learning. It is matter of pride in her numerous sons, and the community for whose advancement in knowl- edge and virtue she was established, that her guar- dians have not cast her on their generosity in vain; matter of devout thanksgiving to Almighty God, that, in a season of unexampled pecuniary embarrassment and commercial distress, he has not suffered her foun- dations to fail, nor her beauty to decay, but has drawn forth the treasures of the beneficent, causing her in venerable age to resume the vigor and fresh health of youth, and commending her, in his providence, to the increased affection of her children, and the stronger confidence of those who are seeking the fountains of uncorrupted wisdom and Christian principle. While, however, the public are looking to her for means of education corresponding to their wants and the spirit of the time, she will continue, with a confidence in- spired and sustained, we trust, by the consciousness of substantial merit, to solicit earnestly those whom God THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. 197 has prospered,—to appeal to the strong sense of in- tellectual and moral excellence in the public mind, for continued and more abundant patronage. Through the filial love of those she is annually sending forth, the beneficence of such as venerate sound learning and good morals, and the united prayers of all to God, she looks forward with renewed confidence to the pe- riod when her halls shall invite and cherish research and taste in every department of useful knowledge and liberal art. The obstructions in our way being thus removed, the Directors recommend immediate and efficient measures for the enlargement of our resources. From the organization of the parent society, New Hamp- shire has drawn largely on the charities of other States for the education of her sons. For several years, scarcely any thing was remitted to the treasury of that institution, while considerable numbers of our young men were maintained by it in a course of prep- aration for the ministry. Ever since the establish- ment of the New Hampshire branch, we have con- stantly drawn on the treasury of the American Socie- ty for material sums to make out our own appropria- tions. At the last regular meeting of the Directors, our grants were made entirely from its funds. While we rejoice that young men are found among us ardent enough in the pursuit of education to seek and secure the aid of the benevolent, we are not insensible to the disgrace of having so long left them to depend on the sympathies of distant parts of the land. It should 198 THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. not, it must not, be so longer. One of the earliest settled and most prospered States, with flourishing and able churches, a respectable and active clergy, cannot in conscience, cannot without utter shame on its Christian character, permit its own aspiring and indigent sons to consume those charities of her sister States for which the destitute in less favored portions of the country, the less enlightened and newer settle- ments, are preferring their urgent but hopeless peti- tions. It becomes us, therefore, to rescue the honor of the churches of New Hampshire, — to see, that, if not able to contribute our part in the great work of meet- ing the calls for assistance which the Education Soci- ety has invited from other parts of the land, they at least shrink not from the duty of sustaining the hope and mitigating the burdens of as many of our own youth as God shall excite to aspire after the office of the Christian ministry. In the view of your Directors, no greater object can engage the attention and awaken the zeal of patriotic and good men. We need not dwell on the control of men of education over the character and welfare of the community. The subject cannot be new to the least read and most unreflecting. The power of thought essentially and naturally governs society,+the power to conceive and suggest objects of pursuit, and means of attaining them. While men are controlled by their ideas of things, they are necessarily under the influence of minds capable of supplying or modi- fying those ideas. Single minds absolutely originate THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. 199 almost nothing. The process of reasoning and re- flection, and of course, in a great measure, of feeling and resolution, and action also, is carried on and di- rected chiefly by means of mutual communication of mind with mind. Hence, men, whose original powers or accidental advantages have raised them much above the level of the society to which they belong, have necessarily, to a fearful extent, the opinions, the pur- poses, and the conduct of others in their power; they hold the keys of knowledge, and, of course, command the springs of action. No people are so debased as not to respect the exhi- bitions of reason and eloquence, not to feel and ac- knowledge the authority of superior mental powers. To the possessor of such powers are assigned, by a general impulse, the places of responsibility and hon- or, the command in war, the chair of state, the bench of justice. In the great crises of public affairs, and in the extremities of individual misfortune or haz- ard, he receives the homage of universal and involun- tary deference. The eye seeks him as it seeks the light; the ear is opened to him as to the voice of the oracle. However unconsciously, the majority of men are as truly led by a few as if the chain which eludes their senses were palpable as links of iron. True, indeed, no force can always command the energies of the public mind. No bands will always bind this uni- corn in the furrow, and make him harrow the valleys. We cannot invariably control the action we produce. In spite of plates of brass and safety-valves, the boiler 200 THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. will occasionally burst; the wind, which the naviga- tor holds in his fist and subjects to his use, now and then rejects his control, and scatters his mangled limbs upon the sea. Yet is it as true that superior intellect ordinarily governs the mass of mind, as that human reason ordinarily prevails over brute force, or human ingenuity subjects the power of steam to its service. - Though great occasions in life exhibit this influence most strikingly, and furnish the splendid themes for the poet and the historian, yet, to learn, in its full ex- tent, the action of cultivated minds on society, we should go to the silent scenes of social life, – the daily intercourse of such minds with those about them,- the spheres of the pastor, the doctor, and the esquire, — the village academy, public school, parish and town meet- ing; should inquire after the origin of public amuse- ments and fashions, and of the prevailing principles and habits of life. In these scenes and relations the character of society is chiefly formed ; and in these very scenes and relations the guidance and control of particular minds is most thoroughly felt. Could we, then, even forget altogether the main end of our association, and regard the Education So- ciety as having for its object merely to bring forward young men of peculiar moral promise upon the van- tage ground of improved intellectual powers, we should deem it among the noblest institutions of our day, the most effectual single remedy yet proposed for our na- tional moral diseases. Increase the proportion of the THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. 201 virtuous and decidedly pious among the educated class- es, and you touch the main spring of public influence. While the pulpit and the press are appealing, with louder and louder eloquence, to the gifted and strong men of the land to interpose the authority of genius and learning and taste, and to save us from the ruin of national vices and national irreligion, let us scour our valleys, and hunt up the talents which divine grace has sanctified, that we may bring them into action on the high places of society. These lights of virtue, shining now but an inch around amid mists and fogs, once placed on the summits of life, shall cheer the eyes and gladden the hearts of communities and na- tions. Spare no pains to excite and help forward our pious youth to the places of mental influence, and you put into operation a train of causes as irresistible in the moral renovation of society as God permits us to employ. It is impossible that the mental strength of the land should be moved by the motives of the gos- pel, and the people remain unchanged; as impossible as that the sun should continue to shine, and the less- er lights which he kindles and feeds in the firmament go out. Bring upon the theatre of action, in another generation, divines, and lawyers, and physicians, and statesmen, and judges, and authors, of sterling Chris- tian principle, and who shall for a moment doubt, that, with the ignorance of religion and the wickedness in high places of our own time, will have fled, also, in great measure, the gross darkness that covers the peo- 26 202 THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. ple, and the disgusting vice that follows in the train of knowledge, and power, and office f The spirit which has pervaded the cultivated minds of professedly Christian nations is wonderful, is shock- ing. It may be safely asserted that no religion of the earth has so imperfectly incorporated itself with the thoughts, the literature, the spirit of the nation by which it has been embraced, as the gospel. Great and obvious as have been its salutary effects, effects which probably constitute, in all their bearings, the principal claims of modern literature to superiority over the ancient, in what period, even under its purest forms, has the gospel thoroughly pervaded any people? What national mind can be truly called Christian P We had almost said, what single author, not strictly theological, in any language, has supported throughout the Christian character F Setting aside doctrinal dis- cussions and practical treatises professedly religious, though not always themselves examples of the char- acter they recommend, where is to be found, in all the Christian history, any thing like the full infusion of the dogmas and spirit of their religion into the pro- ductions of genius, which characterized the classical and some of the Asiatic nations f The fact is, the Christian system, as a deep-felt and powerful religion, has yet scarcely entered into the character of any na- tional mind. The time is yet to come, when the power of cultivated intellect, sanctified by genuine pi- ety, can be seen extensively applied to the moral ren- ovation of human society. | THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. 203 The effects of seeking out and training to study the pious youth of the land would be obvious in all the stages of education, and through the entire course of active life. They would be felt in our schools and academies. However much he may at times incur the scorn or dislike of the thoughtless and ill-disposed, the example of a young man devoted to study on Christian principles, animated in his habitual deport- ment by the meekness, gentleness, and purity of the gospel, is invaluable in a public school. It is a living model; elevates the standard of scholarship, of virtue, and of good manners. It may work no remarkable change of character in others in a day or a year; but it will be remembered among the vivid youthful recol- lections which so color and direct all future life. This salutary influence is carried forward into the course of college and professional studies. The day of flogging and fear, of the birch and the three-cor- nered hat, has gone by. Government in college, now, is chiefly that of opinion, of character. Of course, a strong hold on the respect of the pupil for intellectual and moral worth is all important. In se- curing this, no one can fail to see how necessary it is to the instructer to have under him a due proportion of minds already formed in some good degree to man- liness of principle, to a sense of truth and right and duty, to a self-command which enables them to sac- rifice present inclination and immediate gratifications to the great though distant ends of life. No man has been long connected with a literary in- 204 THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. stitution without having frequent occasion to admire the influence even of a single individual of distin- guished powers and of Christian delicacy and purity of character. It is an influence that runs along through every rank of talents; gives often to a whole class an air of decorum and honorable deportment, and a spur to lofty enterprise. Indeed, we apprehend that neither our young men, nor the guardians of our institutions themselves, have yet generally any just ap- prehension of college life as a scene of Christian use- fulness. The day will be memorable in which pious students, instead of looking constantly forward to fu- ture activity in doing good, shall feel themselves, as doubtless they really are, while yet under discipline, amidst scenes of most desirable, most extensive be- neficence. We have now in mind not chiefly those direct Christian efforts which have for their object palpable religious excitement, but that exhibition of united intellectual strength and pious emotion which constitute the highest order of human character, that harmonious blending of a zeal for knowledge with a zeal for God which is the true perfection of our na- ture, and which, wherever seen, has more convincing, more commanding eloquence, than schools can teach. Happy indeed will be the generation in which the genius and learning of those whom God shall raise up and fit by this grace shall give a Christian character to the development of mind in our literary institutions. Happy, too, are they, who, by their prayers and sacri- fices, contribute to increase the proportion of such young men in our halls of science. - THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. 205 The influence of which we speak is, however, but begun to be exerted in the course of education. Its great theatre is the sphere of active life, to which this education introduces us. In every village plant a pious lawyer, a pious physician, a pious teacher of the young, as well as a pious pastor, and how suddenly the whole aspect of society would be changed; how soon the light of the silent Sabbath day would come like a grateful influence from heaven ; the lovers of sinful pleasure retire into darkness; every praiseworthy institution appear in strength and health; and the gospel subject to its sweet control the movements of society, and the sentiments and affections of the heart! Such effects would be the result of adequate efforts to add to the graces of the Christian character, wherever found, that knowledge which is power; effects so de- sirable, so invaluable, as to justify all our exertions in the cause of education, even if we looked not at all to the preparation of young men for the minis- try of the gospel. And can the duty of strong efforts for the education of pious youth for the highest moral and religious influence, the entire devotion of their lives to this influence in the sacred office, be less im- perative No, surely. If it were worth our toils and sacrifices to multiply the numbers of the consci- entious and devout in all the professions, to give in- creased strength to the sanctified learning and talents of the country, - much more, more a thousand-fold, is it incumbent on us to provide for the thorough edu- cation of men to meet the calls of the hundreds of 206 THE INFLUENCE OF EDUCATED MIND. parishes without religious instruction, the hundreds of churches without pastors in our own land, and the yet more desolate and suffering regions of the earth. If the moral power of Christians in secular pursuits be an object worthy of our prayers and labors, far more important certainly to the best interests of society is the increased power of men of God, and men of strength, in the holy profession of the ministry. Be urged, then, Christian brethren, to address your- selves to this work with redoubled zeal; and by pray- er to Almighty God, by advice and influence, by per- sonal labors, by whatever proper and Christian means, to help forward the work of education for the high duties and responsibilities of intelligent members of society, and, above all, ministers of the Word of Life. PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT CONCORD, SEPTEMBER 7, 1831. ENLIGHTENED men must see that efforts made, sacrifices endured, to give direction, energy, and com- pass to minds inspired with pious feeling, with zeal for God and benevolence to man, cannot be fruitless. Political changes may break up our missionary estab- lishments, and lay waste the schoolhouses and the temples which have just begun to beautify the wilder- ness; the ships of Christian nations may wage war upon the churches gathered in the islands of the sea; the waves or the flames may consume our Bibles and tracts, our contributions for clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, and defending the assailed and oppressed; but no power can entirely suppress the energies of awakened minds, of hearts regenerate, and constrained by the love of God. Nothing can totally defeat a man once qualified for Christian usefulness. While he lives, his voice shall be heard. When dead, he shall yet speak. The jail may immure and confine his body; but what a range his spirit takes' Visibly and audibly it flies 208 PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. through the midst of heaven. The name of Asaad Shidiak might have died, or been cherished only by a little circle of Christian friends in an obscure corner of Asia; but bigotry and tyranny sought to annihilate it, and it is now ringing from shore to shore. The voice of kindness and faithfulness, that till lately, with more than Orphean sweetness, charmed and tamed our southern wilderness, shall sound out from the dungeons of a Christian state, with a power to inspire and arouse kindred minds, to the extremities of the land. The meek, the resolute, the self-devoted Worcester preaches the gospel as eloquently and effectually in chains and in prison as from any pulpit in Christendom. It is not possible that the develop- ment of intellectual and moral character should fail of most salutary consequences to the world. And it is not possible, that, without this moving and vital principle, any other instrument of good should be ultimately effectual. Mind rightly directed and im- pelled by proper motives is power, controlling, reno- vating, creative. Without it, all is stagnant, putrefy- ing, — or active to no end, wild, tumultuous, deso- lating. The Society will indulge us in a few suggestions which, at all times important, appear to the Directors to be peculiarly so at present. It would be difficult to name an institution whose early efforts have been in general more unexceptiona- ble, and whose success has been more signal. An impression has, however, been made on some minds, PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. 209 and not altogether without reason, that the money expended by the Education Society has not been al- ways most wisely applied; that young men have, in some instances, been taken up who had better re- mained in their original spheres of life, men without talent, without enterprise, and sometimes of, at best, questionable piety. It should not surprise any man that such has been the fact. The Society may admit it, without danger to its character. It results naturally enough, though we trust not necessarily, from the circumstances of the case. The first advisers of a youth are, of course, his near relatives and intimate friends. The parents and other family connections take an interest in his advancement to higher scenes of usefulness, or, it may be, of reputation and influence. The native discern- ment of the female mind is obscured in the fond mother; manly soundness of judgment forsakes the father; and neighbours are never wanting to extin- guish even the feeble glimmerings of reason that sur- vive the effects of parental affection and parental pride. The standards of intellectual and moral merit are, it may be, in many places, low ; and the candi- date for the ministry appears great and good, because others immediately about him are no greater and no better. It need not be told how easily the succeeding steps are sometimes taken. They follow as the night the day. The pastor and the selectmen of the town too frequently grant a certificate as matter of course; because they know nothing to the contrary 27 210 PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. of what is set forth by those who ought to be the best acquainted with the candidate. They sometimes seem, indeed, to take it for granted that he is, of course, a young man of talents and of piety, whom they do not know to be without either. Thus the way is prepared for application to the proper authori- ties for the aid of the Society. And if rigid principles of proceeding are not adopted by the preceptor of the academy, the officers of college, the examining committee, and the board of directors, it would be made easy for a youth of inconsiderable talents and little promise to waste his time and nourish his vanity in the consumption of a fund saved from the earnings of hardy industry and Christian economy. The Directors allude to instances of this kind with no feelings of satisfaction, with no willingness to complain; but for the purpose of enforcing more effectually the only remedy of which the case admits. The source of this remedy is in those whose neglect, or thoughtlessness, or facility of being influenced, occasions the evil. It is hardly to be expected that parents and friends will ever, in general, be able to appreciate the talents and prospects of the young. It may be expected that neighbours, especially Christian neighbours, and men of intelligence, professional men and public officers, above all, instructers in our schools, academies, and colleges, will weigh the responsibility of recommend- ing youth to our patronage, and will resolve to be satisfied by proof, of what they set forth in their PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. 211 testimonials. They owe it as a sacred duty to the Society, to the churches, and to the community. The officers of the Society itself are bound by peculiar considerations to a cautious and scrupulous regard to the rules prescribed to them. They violate most solemn obligations by any remissness, or partiality, or disregard of the constitution under which they act. Increased caution in the recommendation of can- didates and in the appropriation of funds is rendered doubly important by the increased number of appli- cants, occasioned by the late remarkable revivals of religion in the State. Selection becomes indispensa- ble; the responsibility of those on whom this selec- tion depends is, of course, apparent. It is at all times wrong to devote such funds to the support of ill-qualified persons; to do so, when so doing neces- sarily brings reproach on the Society, or excludes much worthier candidates, were neglect and abuse of authority quite unpardonable. The Directors, therefore, take the liberty to ex- press the hope, that the board about to succeed them in this trust, the examining committee, the teachers in our institutions, our professional and public men, and, in short, all who may have occasion to act with reference to the appropriation of this charity, in what- ever character, will give due weight to the considera- tions now suggested, and, so far as in them lies, allow no man to be entered on our lists whose pretensions are in any important respect questionable. We re- spectfully urge them to a fearless and resolute rejec- 212 PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. tion of every applicant for recommendation, or exam- ination, or an appropriation of money, who does not fully answer the requisitions of the laws and regula- tions of the Society. We earnestly recommend an immediate dismission of every individual who does not sustain the character required. If the Society is to be saved from all just reproach and from all ap- pearance of abuse of public confidence, its executive officers must be without favor and without fear, and must rigidly enforce its rules. Pity here is out of place ; inattention, inefficiency, is a moral wrong. Much of the opprobrium which has fallen upon the Society has arisen from a few particular instances, industriously published and colored, of indulgence to stupidity, or idleness, or moral delinquency among its beneficiaries. Such indulgence is mistaken kindness. If we are raising up men for the ministry, let us take the course to make men. What has this society to do with the dull in intellect, the slothful, lovers of pleas- ure, — with fickle, feeble, vain men f It may be regarded as a principle, that our benefi- ciaries will be very much what our practice makes them. Rigid adherence to the rules will secure the requisite qualifications. It is gratifying to see that the officers of the parent society act with decision and promptness on this subject. And where is the great evil of rejecting a young man now and then f If he at once gives up in despair, no great injury has probably been done even to his sensibilities. If he be an extraordinary man, if he have native genius, he PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. 213 may rouse himself, may betake himself to his own resources; and we may see him, by and by, lift him- self up and stand erect from out the waves. It will in such case be matter of debate, whether favor or refusal had been the greater blessing. There can be no occasion to take up common men. There will be enough of the ingenious and the worthy. Let none but such be flattered with hope for a mo- ment. The fondness of the parental heart, the kind- ness of the pastor, may be tempted to hope against hope. But in matters of such moment to the church, such partialities and weaknesses must be disregarded. If the traits of character required in candidates do not appear clearly, let the applicants be rejected at once and without scruple. They will themselves thank us hereafter, or prove to all concerned that they were rejected with reason. The men who manage our Christian institutions and societies need great simplicity of character, great frankness one towards another and towards those dependent on their aid or engaged in their service. Nowhere is deficiency in these qualities more likely to be manifest, or more injurious to the interests of religion, than in the management of the concerns of our own society. Let it be once generally resolved that we will neither recommend, nor approve, nor patronize an individual, without reasons clear and satisfactory to our own minds, and the evil to which we alluded in the former part of this Report would scarcely be felt. 214, PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. It may be expected, that, after thus speaking on this subject, the Directors would express their views of the kind of men to be recommended for their pa- tronage. In the first place, they should be men of consistent and uniform piety. It is not enough that hope be entertained of them as Christians. This may consist with inequalities and peculiarities of temperament unbecoming him who ministers at the altar. There should be in a candidate for this charity evidence not only that religion sometimes melts or elevates or impels the heart, but that it lives in it by a steady and controlling and happy influence, as an essential and principal element of its being, a fountain of life. It will be manifested by habitual sobriety of deport- ment, habitual devotion, the study of the Scriptures, zeal for good works, and a permanent interest in whatever respects the honor of Christ or the spirit- ual welfare of men. The next indispensable qualification is talent. It is not always easy to distinguish between minds in the early stages of education. Their characteristic features are, of course, not yet prominent. They are like the leaves of the rose, while yet folded up in the bud. Still, where mind exists, there are generally indications of it, before the age at which application is made for our assistance. There are marks of some- thing more than mere susceptibility of impression, mere power of retention, of accumulating ideas. There may be discovered signs of ingenuity, of ver- PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. 215 satility, of invention, of command over the materials of thought, a principle of curiosity, discrimination, com- prehension, influence over other minds,-the power, in short, of thinking and of acting. Another requisite, scarcely less important, is good sense. In whatever manner it be accounted for, the fact has escaped the observation of none, that talent of a high order is not always associated with good sense, a sense of proprieties, a quick discernment of what is becoming, befitting occasions and circum- stances. The subject of this defect may have genius, but he lacks wisdom ; he may be strong, but he is blind; he may be able to shake the pillars of the temple of Dagon, but he may pull down the house upon his own head. He is not inefficient ; but never does things just as they should be done. His means or his seasons are ill chosen. And the chief misfor- tune is that the faults of such a man are always charged to his religion. Men may want common sense in civil life, and the constitution of the country not be reproached; but they cannot habitually act unwisely and imprudently in the Christian ministry without bringing dishonor upon the gospel. A min- ister of glaring and offensive eccentricities, which betray, as they generally do, a deficiency in common sense, will rarely be useful. At any rate, the fewer such men we educate, the happier will it be for the CauSe. If, in any scene of life, the world have a right to look for men of judgment, of consistency, of faultless 216 PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. propriety of life and manners, it is in the Christian ministry; where, if on earth, the harmonious blend- ing of the amiable and excellent traits of character which religion inculcates should be exemplified. We do not expect that our beneficiaries, taken as they are from every sphere of life, and often without early advantages of any kind, will be nicely versed in the rules of fashionable good-breeding. We do not desire that they should be. But we may reasonably, in all cases, insist on some just perception of what becomes their place or character, — some ideas of the decencies and proprieties of social life, – some dis- crimination of means and modes and opportunities of doing good. To become, like Paul, all things to all men, yet so as to gain some, without losing others, requires a practical wisdom not necessarily implied in mere goodness of heart and strength of intellect. Another requisite of great consequence is fixedness of purpose. There is scarcely a more fatal defect in the pastoral character than a disposition to change. It is the bane of many in the sacred office, as it is of multitudes in other departments of life, that, although they devise good enough, and lay their plans not without skill, they want patience and perseverance in the execution. On the other hand, the men who ultimately succeed and establish a character in the ministry are the men who steadily pursue to an issue every train of measures they adopt. Under their direction, the tendency of things is upward; time but confirms their resolution; difficulties develope their - PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. 217 resources; opposition accelerates their progress. This trait of character is discovered early. It appears in the boy. It may be strengthened by virtuous princi- ple, but it belongs to the constitution, and will rarely be produced in the Christian where it has not been observed in the man. The young man who is vari- able, vacillating, given to change of occupation, of place, of purpose for life, should receive no patronage from this society. Such will generally be unsettled and uneasy everywhere. There is always some better academy, some better college, than they have yet tried; there may be, also, by and by, some better profession than the ministry, or some better doctrine than they have been taught. Thus the money ex- pended on them is sometimes thrown away, because they never reach the station for which they are in- tended; and little better than thrown away, when they do reach it. Again, the candidate for this charity should have good health. It is a false and mischievous idea, that those who are too feeble to labor are the persons to be educated, -particularly for the pulpit, — the last place in the world for a debilitated or delicate consti- tution. The parent who has a son to educate for professional life, above all for the ministry, if Provi- dence permit a choice, should select for this purpose the most symmetrically formed of all, the most robust, iron constitution. The pale, bilious, dyspeptic, droop- ing are fitter for the farm or the workshop. It were wrong in the Directors of the Education Society, in 28 218 PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. ordinary cases, to bestow their aid on young men whose infirmities of body preclude the hope of long life, or of severe application and hard labor while life lasts. Men in other respects equal, and of better promise in regard to health, will doubtless be found in abundance. Finally, the candidate should be without any such personal defects, by birth or accident, as are inconsist- ent with pastoral duty or pulpit eloquence. There doubtless exist minds of the finest mould, piety of the purest character, in connection with personal deformi- ties which impede the usefulness of the pastor, and preclude the possibility of eloquence in the preacher. For such minds there are other fields ripe unto harvest. The press, the multiplied departments of instruction, present to them scenes of extensive use- fulness. The pulpit is rarely the place for them. It should be the object of this society to train up men who shall be, by nature and by the best discipline, thoroughly furnished for every pastoral duty, and for eloquence worthy of their divine theme. The es- sential disadvantages of the pulpit, in comparison with the other theatres of modern eloquence, are great enough in themselves. The man who hopes to suc- ceed there has need of every auxiliary which talents and piety and personal accomplishments can secure. The gospel, in our day, requires no human agency, so much as a persuasive and commanding eloquence. Religion has, to a great extent, attained its triumphs over reason ; it extorts the assent of the understand- PERSONAL QUALIFICATIONS FOR THE PULPIT. 219 ing. We are nearly all nominally Christians. Our sin is not unbelief; we believe in vain. We “know the right, and yet the wrong pursue.” To give the gospel effect in such minds, so far as human means can do so, calls for an eloquence that can arrest atten- tion to familiar truths, break up inveterate habits of thought, open fountains in the rock; an eloquence that can give substance to things hoped for, – evidence, visible and tangible reality, to things not seen ; an eloquence that can dissipate the clouds and mists which hang around our earthly being, and bring up, in the light of the Bible, the real scene of a moral probation for eternity, in which we are all actors, and from which we are all passing with such fearful celerity, and multitudes of us with such appalling un- concern, to the final trial of the soul. MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT KEENE, SEPTEMBER 11, 1833. IT is the nature of our operations to make no show, to furnish no details of striking incidents, no descrip- tion of awakening scenes. Our attention is bestowed on a few individuals who are silently and quietly pursuing their course in the retirement of the college or academy, and who, of course, have no other ac- count to give of themselves than that they have employed so many weeks in study, and so many in teaching, —have received so much money, and spent it for such and such purposes. Remarks upon their character, or upon circumstances which now and then attach a peculiar interest to their private history, would be out of place here. In the absence of such facts as usually give interest to the annual reports of our benevolent institutions, we have thought it not unbecoming this occasion to ask your attention to a subject of great and increasing importance, in the view of the intelligent friends of liberal education, especially of all those who are im- mediately concerned in the charitable education of young men for the Christian ministry. MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 221 Before we introduce this subject, however, you will indulge us with two general remarks. The first is, that the measure of talent developed and applied to the advancement of Christian knowl- edge and influence, not the number of individuals assisted by us in their preparatory studies, is the true standard of the success and importance of our exer- tions. In general, and to a certain extent, it is better for the cause of Christianity to concentrate in a com- paratively small number of divines a given degree of intellectual energy and theological attainment, than to diffuse the same amount through a much larger number. It may, indeed, be impossible for a single man to do as much, in a limited time, as five or ten other men might do, whose aggregate qualifications are not greater than his; but, in the long run, the advantage may be altogether on the side of the one strong-minded and gifted individual. In whatever light he is viewed, whether as a radiant point or as a centre of moral attraction, one extraordinary Chris- tian mind is at least equal to all the lesser luminaries which revolve around it. It is remarkable, that, in all departments of human effort, the biography of some dozens of individuals is the history of the race. How many common men would it have taken to do for the world what Paul, or Luther, or Butler did P What are hundreds of ordinary men now doing, in compari- son with the few whose conceptions and thoughts occasionally electrify a community, whose sentiments and feelings, once uttered, pass from mind to mind, 222 MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. and from heart to heart, and vibrate throughout the atmosphere of the moral world? A single production of a single man may preach to more human beings than it may be in the power of a score of inferior men to reach, by their utmost efforts through life, - much as the smaller degrees of sanctified talent should be respected. In no sphere, however limited and humble, will mere superiority of numbers countervail superiority of moral strength. At the present day, especially, it requires a certain amount of talent, of intellectual power, as well as goodness, to command respect for a minister of the gospel. Office, titles, will not do it. To be regarded now, he must be able to maintain his opinions with clearness and a manly logic. He must have knowl- edge as well as zeal. He must be able to meet men where men choose to meet him ; to pursue tortuous and insidious error with the weapons of reason and truth; to discomfit and expose shallow philosophy, and flippant, arrogant speech, with sound sense and sub- stantial learning. Not a child, in these days, will bow or courtesy to a clerical habit or a reverend face. But it is not possible for youth or age to despise true tal- ent, united with the inimitable graces of genuine pi- ety and Christian philanthropy. The artificial dis- tinctions and accidental relations of men, which at one time confer importance and influence, may, at another time, become objects of general derision and con- tempt. But there never was, and there never can be, a time, when the substantial qualities of a well trained and well balanced mind are impotent. MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 223 In the view of your Directors, there has been no pe- riod in the history of our own country, or of the world, when those whose concern it is were so called upon to maintain the dignity, respectability, and efficiency of the Christian ministry by preserving a high standard of intellectual and moral qualifications in the candi- dates for the sacred office. The Directors would not be understood to intimate that any particular plan of education, or any single course of study, is essential to qualify men for the gospel ministry. They mean only to say, that mind, a sound judgment, a clear perception, strength of resolution, and true knowledge, however acquired, are indispensable requisites to a manly and successful dis- charge of clerical duty, and to the maintenance of the respectability and dignity of the ministerial profession. These qualifications have been attained without early advantages, and sometimes without any advantages. Among the most cherished names in the history of Christian usefulness are many who never felt the kind- ly influence of classical discipline. These are excep- tions to the general law, that improvement is in propor- tion to the means of improvement. They cannot be regarded as militating at all against the principle which lies at the foundation of all public and all domestic edu- cation, — the principle, that we shall realize the results of intellectual and moral training according to our use of the means. It is as true of the mental as of the vegetable world, that, “as we sow, so shall we reap.” We would also anxiously guard against the impres- 224 MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. sion, that we think lightly of any man who is devoting the talents that God has given him, and the education which his circumstances have enabled him to acquire, to the promotion of the Redeemer’s cause, in any sphere, however humble and however narrow. We feel it to be incumbent on all the friends of the gos- pel to cherish and encourage all such men. We cheerfully take our own place among them. We hon- or their zeal, we honor their industry, we thank God for their usefulness. Their praise is in many of our churches. We humbly hope to share that praise with them. We trust, that, though we do not attain to the glory of suns, we shall be thought no less neces- sary, though we be less extensively useful, as subordi- nate luminaries in the same system. The Directors feel the importance of manning every post of ministerial duty. They would bid every man whose heart is in the work, God speed. They would see every destitute place supplied. But they feel assured, that, whilst nothing should be done to dis- courage the exertions of any in whom is the spirit of the holy prophets, no pains should be spared to carry the academical and professional education of candi- dates for the ministry to the highest attainable point. The other remark which we proposed to make is, that the views entertained and acted on by this so- ciety, in relation to the whole business of education, are of the utmost consequence to the cause of learn- ing and religion. The members of the parent society and its several MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 225 branches include no inconsiderable number of the leading men in professional and public life in the country; more particularly men of active influence in our universities and inferior institutions of learning. Indeed, it would not be easy to select another equally numerous body of men likely to affect so decisively and permanently the general character of our system of academical and professional education. Nothing, then, which pertains to education, can be entirely foreign to the American Education Society. It is, indeed, an association for the education of men for a particular purpose; but it is for a purpose, neverthe- less, which cannot itself be fully attained without adopting the very best methods of education, and which cannot be pursued as it is, by placing consid- erable numbers of their young men in most of our principal literary institutions, without essentially af. fecting the whole system of instruction and discipline throughout the land. - The subject to which we alluded, and to which we have thought proper to invite your attention, is that of some more efficient measures for preserving health, and raising the standard of academical education among the beneficiaries of this society, and in our literary institutions generally. We mention these two topics together, because, in the view we propose to take of them, they are intimately connected. Public opinion is calling for higher and higher attainments in men liberally educated. And our in- stitutions for literary and professional education are 29 226 MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. vying with each other in their zeal to meet the de- mand. The requisites for admission to their privileges are yearly increased. And students are incessantly goaded to greater effort, until it may be doubted whether, in some instances, we are not really exer- cising a kind of Egyptian tyranny over the youthful mind, - exacting brick without straw. Under this system, there may be observed two classes of students widely distinguished. The one class consists of such as despair of learning what they are required to know, and have, therefore, determined to earn a degree somewhere by punctual attendance at times and places appointed, and by regularity of moral deportment, without so much as seriously trying to avail themselves of the advantages they enjoy for mental improvement. These young men, if perad- venture they sustain themselves against the seductions of vice, are often in the bloom of health, hale and rosy, without a disease or an ache to complain of With good living and good spirits, they are as happy as the college restraints, and occasional reproofs and mortifying examinations, can suffer them to be. The other class is of those who take it for granted that what is important to be taught is important to be known ; and who feel, that, in the business of their education, nothing is done, so long as any thing re- mains to be done. If they do not find time for their duties, they make it. If eight hours a day do not suffice for them, ten, twelve, or sixteen are found for them among the twenty-four. And before they are MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 227 themselves aware of it, their constitutions are enfee- bled, if not destroyed. Pale, emaciated, exhausted, they are gradually dropping out of their classes, to rest, or travel, or labor, that they may recruit their wasted strength, and, in instances not a few, to die, in the midst of their bright hopes and flattering promises of usefulness. If, by chance, they escape these im- mediate evils, they rarely enter on their professions with any tolerable measure of muscular power, and suffer all their days from some one or other of the dire diseases that wait upon a ruined constitution. Here is the evil to be corrected. The problem to be solved is, how to avoid the destruction of the man in the culture of his mind; how to make the most of the capacities of his soul, without endangering his life. On no subject is there, at the present time, more sensibility among intelligent parents and the patrons of learning. It is certain that the excitement already produced on the subject will result in material changes in our literary institutions. The hope, by which the public were for a while cheered by the partial intro- duction of gymnastic exercises, has been utterly dis- appointed. We are not aware that they are kept up anywhere. They have failed in every instance. Other expedients will be tried. The most decided inclination, just now, is obviously to what are called “manual labor institutions.” With regard to these, in general, we are not pre- pared to express any opinion. They will have their day. For aught we know, they may, in some in- 228 MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. stances, partially accomplish the object so confidently predicted. Under wise management, they may fur- nish the requisite muscular exercise, and do some- thing towards enabling the student to defray his own expenses. It cannot be doubted that labor actually applied can, in some circumstances, be made profit- able. There must be a way to render even very imperfect skill lucrative, just in proportion to the amount employed and the demand for it. And expe- rience will not fail to teach us how this is to be done. There is, however, one assumption in the advocates of manual labor institutions, which, so far as we see, is manifestly gratuitous. It is, that all the essential advantages of their favorite seminaries cannot possibly be associated with existing institutions. There may be reason to prefer one place to another; but what is there in the organization or usages of existing institutions, in themselves considered, that can possi- bly prevent the introduction of any real improvement in education? If a new institution may be made to possess new advantages, an old one may certainly be modified so as to do the same thing. If public favor will sustain a new one on an improved plan, the same public favor will warrant the necessary changes in an old one. If any class of men are capable of appre- ciating the improvements suggested, they are cer- tainly those who have most constantly seen and most deeply deplored existing evils. Nor is there a set of men in the land more dependent on popular favor, or more interested to adapt themselves to the state of MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 229 the public mind, than those associated with our liter- ary institutions. Nowhere has a disposition to change for the sake of improvement been more manifest, for ten years past, than in our colleges. On the other hand, there are great evils in the multiplication of such institutions. It tends to limit the resources of all. It prevents the accumulation of literary advantages in any. While it increases their number, it necessarily lowers their standard of excel- lence. There is not a single cause now in operation so depressing to the general standard of academical education as the miserable rivalry which exists among many of our literary institutions, and which leads them to encourage young men, incapable of any just appreciation of their own interests, to inquire, not merely where they can be well taught and well pro- vided with facilities for improvement, but where they will be most sure to enter and to stand well without hard study and severe discipline. What these semi- naries want is independence, ample resources, which will enable them to follow out their own theories of liberal education without fear. One of our institu- tions possesses this advantage perfectly, and the uni- versal conviction is, that, so far as it professes to go, it goes thoroughly. We refer, of course, to the Mili- tary Academy under the patronage of the government. Let the attempt be made, then, not to create new schools and colleges, but to ascertain whether the ends sought cannot be as well attained in those we already have. Let not our means be wasted by too 230 MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. much diffusion and division. Union is strength here, as well as in other things. But the great question is, What shall be done * What system shall be devised, which shall develope the physical energies so as to sustain the constitution under the action of severe mental labor, and yet be so inviting to young men as not to fall into neglect and disrepute f To answer this question entirely and at once is impossible. But it is not impossible to say what will go very far towards a satisfactory answer. And, in the first place, we remark, that, whatever course is adopted, it must be regular and systematic, — daily. The student must not wait till he feels the necessity of resorting to exercise. That is often too late. Exercise operates, not, like doses of medicine, to remove an obstruction, or to produce some violent change in the functions of the body, but, like the air we breathe and the food we digest, as a constant power. A man may almost as well hope to dispense with breathing or eating for a day or a week, and then to make a business of it, as hope to enjoy good health and mental activity by only occasionally resort- ing to muscular exercise. Secondly. The instructers of the young must be themselves examples of habitual exercise. They must not think it beneath their dignity, nor inconsistent with their delicacy, to handle the axe or the hoe, or hold the plough, or to do any thing which they recom- mend to their pupils. Thirdly. Provision should be made for exercise at MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 231 all times, especially in rainy and unpleasant weather. Agricultural pursuits are healthful and delightful. The man who can despise them has no sensibility to the charms of nature and the luxury of witnessing and assisting the opening of her rural riches and beauties, or he has succeeded in stifling that sensibility by the indulgence of a pitiable affectation. But the objec- tion to such pursuits as the only means of exercise for students is, that, in the best part of the day for labor in the open air, every thing is wet ; and in rainy and misty weather, just when he needs most exercise, he is prevented from taking any. There are various mechanical employments, how- ever, which may be connected with agricultural labor, or which may, perhaps with equal advantage, be ex- clusively pursued; such as the different operations of joinery, turning of wood or brass, trunk-making, &c. These are meat, require little change of dress, exercise ingenuity, cultivate habits of exactness and tasteful- ness, are sufficiently laborious, admit of much variety of posture, keep up a lively interest, communicate a skill which every man finds a thousand occasions to employ in the course of his life, are as profitable as any species of labor, require but a small capital, may be resorted to at all times, and in well ventilated apartments are on the whole, perhaps, as healthful as the occupations of the husbandman or gardener. Whether public property can, to any great extent, be safely vested in tools and materials for such opera- tions is very doubtful. The expense of tools to each 232 MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. individual is trifling; the materials, as fast as they are worked up and the products sold, of course, replace themselves. All that seems desirable to be furnished for the student is a place to work and a market for his manufactures. Each one will better manage his own property than that of others, or that which is owned by many in common. Whether the situation of many institutions will render such labor profitable remains to be ascertained. That it would be always healthful, at least, admits of no doubt. Thus much for exercise in term time. Fourthly. It is worthy of consideration, whether a material change may not be made in the vacations of most of our colleges, which shall give opportunity to the students to add to the regular course of exercise during the terms of study the benefit of six or eight weeks’ continued labor in the open air, at the most desirable season of the year. The practice has been general, and is so still, with two or three exceptions, to allow a vacation of six or seven weeks in winter for the purpose of teaching school. The winter months are undoubtedly the very best for study; and the business of teaching school in those months the very worst for the health of the teacher. He leaves before the fall term closes; confined in a small room, badly ventilated, filled with children, and poorly warmed, he finds himself rather a loser by his vacation, in point of health, and returns, exhausted, to encounter the relaxing influence of the spring months, under the double disadvantage of diminished strength and in- MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 233 creased duties. Thus, not only part of the autumn is lost by absence, but the spring term is in no small degree lost, because he has not health and vigor to improve it. In multitudes of cases, the influence of this one cause has depressed and embarrassed the student through his whole course. Is it not, then, worthy of reflec- tion and experiment, whether the winter vacation might not be abolished, and the same number of weeks added to the usual spring vacation, with a view to enable the student to employ the summer, instead of the winter, in labor; labor not generally in a con- fined schoolroom, but in the open air, on the farm * Two months’ labor from the middle of June to the middle of August would be nearly as profitable, in a pecuniary view, as the same time devoted to a winter school. The tone of vigorous health which such a change would insure to the student would render all the rest of the year much more useful to him. The interruption of his studies, while his class are going on, would be avoided. Many individuals would find employment at home, or among their friends, – thus conferring, while they receive, a benefit. Besides, it is no small recommendation of such a change, that it would directly tend to remove the stigma which the mere student is in danger of attaching to manual labor, and the prejudice which the mere laborer is apt to feel against the gentleman student. The tendency would be to unite the two classes more together, and to create a mutual respect, which could not fail to add to the respectability and happiness of the one, and to 30 234. MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. the acquaintance with real life and the usefulness of the other. It is doubtless useful to many young men to teach school. It places them in a new relation; they feel new responsibilities; and, by learning to command, learn also to submit. No man ever acquires so cer- tainly as when he has occasion to communicate. And if it be thought important for members of college to teach at least once, during their course, provision might be made for it, by allowing a class, in the second or third year, to go altogether, for twelve or fourteen weeks. We conclude by remarking, that, whatever plan should be adopted to secure the ends proposed, it would be the duty of the Education Society to insist on an exact conformity with that plan by all its bene- ficiaries; to make it a condition of assistance, that those who receive it be as careful to preserve their lives as to improve their minds, – as anxious to lay a foundation for prolonged usefulness as to be useful at all, - as industrious to secure to themselves and the world the blessing of physical vigor and cheerful health as to acquire strength of mind and literary resources, which, in an enfeebled and diseased body, if attainable, would be useless. With these remarks, we again commend the New Hampshire branch of the American Education Soci- ety to the prayers of its members and to the patron- age of the community. If there is a charity in which it is safe to embark our influence, is it not that which MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. 235 goes directly to increase the general amount of intel- ligence, associated with good morals and pious feel- ing In a country like this, the truth has nothing to fear from the increase of knowledge and the improve- ment of education. And no real friend of truth can hesitate to contribute his mite to elevate the standard of general intelligence, or to increase the number of those who are able to judge in the important matters of opinion and belief which are presented to the human mind, and which, embracing all that gives importance to life, include, also, all that renders death itself an event of any moment to us. It is impossible that general education, at our public institutions, should, on the whole, be otherwise than salutary to the cause of truth and the best interests of society. To the avowed friends of evangelical religion, on whom especially we rely for aid in this cause, we appeal with earnestness and confidence. The system of truth, brethren, which we hold dear, has nothing to fear from investigation. We invite scrutiny. We care not how intense a light is concentrated upon it. We hope for nothing from the prevalence of ignorance. The worst wish we indulge in regard to what we hold to be error is, that they who propagate it and they to whom it is addressed may think deeply and reason soundly. “A little learning is a dangerous thing”; but a religious faith which cannot commend itself to rational and reflecting men, men of compass and dis- crimination of mind, men of conscience and cultivated moral sensibilities, we are willing to abandon. So 236 MANUAL LABOR INSTITUTIONS. far are we from having any interest in arresting the progress of inquiry and investigation, that we deem it a bounden duty to foster such investigation, and to encourage every promising young man to qualify him- self for pursuing it thoroughly. We deem it a duty which we owe to aspiring but indigent religious youth themselves, to the country at large, and to mankind. The very object of this association is to give young men of inadequate means the fullest ad- vantages for improvement. We confide in the rea- sonableness of our Christian principles, in the power of enlarged intelligence and enlightened conscience, and in the providence of God, as our sufficient guar- anty that this charity will not be ill bestowed; that it will accomplish our great object, — to disseminate and establish in the world the doctrine of redemption from sin by the blood of Christ and the spirit of God. We appeal to you, Christian brethren, as those who know the moral wants of man. You have seen and felt his inbred propensities to evil. Now that the spell is broken and the chain that bound you severed, and you exult in the freedom and hope and joy of men redeemed and born again, is it too much to ask, too much to expect, that you will entertain this cause in your hearts ; that you will do all you can to raise up a generation of enlightened defenders, of zealous propagators, of the glorious gospel of the blessed God? THE CLERGY THE NATURAL AIDVISERS OF YOUNG MEN. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT MEREDITH BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1834. ON other occasions, the Directors of the Society have dwelt upon the selection and education of its beneficiaries. They still feel that too much wisdom can hardly be employed, or too much caution observed, in respect to these important subjects. They would deprecate all merely temporary policy, all expedients for immediate effect, on the part of the leading men in our churches and benevolent societies. Instead of yielding to the occasional and transient currents of popular opinion, and listening to the suggestions of zeal untempered by knowledge, it becomes those on whom the responsibility of public action and influence in the cause of religion chiefly rests to study thor- oughly the remote and ultimate bearings of public measures. They are bound to cultivate general views, to consult for the future. They should keep in mind, that, in the Christian church, as truly as in civil socie- ty or in literature, the direction given to the public mind by a few prominent men is not easily or im- mediately changed. The great errors in doctrine and 238 THE CLERGY THE NATURAL in practice which have deformed the institutions of Christianity and darkened her history have always grown from slight beginnings. Few, if any, minds have, at first, had the sagacity to discover the remoter consequences. Thus, what was at first an unobserved deviation from the simplicity of the gospel has been encouraged, and then tolerated, until it was no longer tolerable; and a return to truth and duty has been effected only by a violent revolution. Had a watchful intelligence anticipated the end from the beginning, the monstrous tyranny of spiritual Rome had never overshadowed and withered the primitive churches; the bloody struggle, the prodigious expense of talent, and treasure, and life in the great effort of the Ref- ormation had never been required. It is impossible to say how much the ignorance and contempt of knowledge which the Puritans encouraged, in their zeal for freedom and warmth of pious feeling, really tended to limit the influence of their noble exertions, and to attach the mass of English society still more strongly to a body of forms, under which, to say the least, no small degree of indolence and worldliness have always reposed without apparent compunction or public disgrace. Let the reasons appear ever so plausible, if our churches should satisfy themselves with an illiterate, undisciplined ministry, - if a pious heart alone be allowed to atone for unsoundness of mind and igno- rance of the higher forms of religious truth, they will one day rue it. Truth is the instrument of awaken- | ADVISERS OF YOUNG MEN. 239 ing and sanctifying men. Thorough instruction in the truth is the only safeguard against extravagance and heresy. And truth is in no wise more easily attained on this subject than on others. It is not mere classical attainment. It is not abstract science. These things do not constitute it; they cannot of themselves secure it. We should be greatly misun- derstood, if we were supposed to think that ever so much acquaintance with antiquity, and the circle of learning taught in the schools, are, in themselves, the essential furniture of the minister of God’s word. We entertain no such idea. Our brethren know, however, what it is to be instructed by a clear head, — what it is to feel the reproofs of a wisdom that has gone below the surface of things, – what it is to rise in the fervor of devotion under the guidance of a mind capacious of the sublime truths of inspiration, and full of the spirit of the holy prophets. We know with what insatiable appetite the real Christian feeds upon the living instructions of one imbued with the sentiments of the Sacred Scriptures. We see with what impressions all men listen, whilst burning words are dropping from lips evidently touched with a coal from the altar of God. Then how simple, how sub- lime, how convincing, how persuasive, how amiable, how heavenly the gospel seems The most insensible and obstimately guilty are almost persuaded to be Christians. And certainly no reflecting man can fail to see that to this power over the conscience and will of man the 240 THE CLERGY THE NATURAL highest learning is indispensable; learning, if you will, such as a kindred genius ascribed to the unschooled English dramatist, “natural learning,”—but, neverthe- less, real and profound. Such power is never acquired by idle wishes, or breathed into us by inspiration. It is the natural offspring of patient study. It is a philosophy derived from meditation of the Scriptures, by minds prepared to sound the depths of truth, ma- tured by converse with other and greater minds, -an eloquence inspired and fed from the deepest fountains of emotion in the soul of man. But we wish not to dwell on this point. We would rather, on the present occasion, urge upon our breth- ren the duty of looking up young men of suitable qualifications, and bringing them forward under the patronage of this society, or otherwise, in a course of regular education. This office belongs peculiarly to the clergy. Christian ministers are, in an important sense, the natural guardians of pious young men, Next to the parent himself, they have the best means of acquaintance with the mental and moral character of the youthful members of their charges. They have, in many instances, watched the progress of these individuals from infancy, know all their relatives and circumstances, visit the schools in which the elements of education were taught to them, have witnessed the operations of their minds under the influence of religious truth, have observed the degree of intelli- gence and ingenuity manifested in these trying cir- cumstances, the resolution and determination evinced ADVISERS OF YOUNG MEN. 24.1 in breaking off from former associations, the prudence and foresight discovered in marking out a new course of life, the vigor and perseverance of pursuit, and the regularity and ardor of religious principle displayed. In respect to all these things, the intelligent pastor is placed nearly in the parental relation, and with the advantage, too, of being uninfluenced by parental partialities. To his pastor, also, the young man looks up with a natural respect, not only as his spiritual guide, but as a friend whose interest in his welfare has been evinced by substantial acts of kindness, whose house is at all times open to him, and whose judgment and general intelligence may be consulted with a degree of confidence in all the arrangements and changes of life. If there be any thing peculiarly interesting and responsible in the relation of a Christian minister, it is this power of influence which he possesses over the minds and purposes of the virtuous and pious portion of our young men. It will be found by a slight sur- vey of life, that, although the number of such may be comparatively small, they are not comparatively feeble and inefficient in their ultimate influence. The mass of minds under the control of opposite principles are seen very soon to melt away, and leave almost no traces of their existence. They are the vapor and mists of the moral atmosphere, upon which, it is true, the splendid colors of the sky are painted, but which, as they float about us, not seldom inflict disease and death; whilst the real moral and intellectual worth of 31 24.2 THE CLERGY THE NATURAL the community may be compared to the permanent, unobserved elements of the air, which sustain the life and health of the vegetable and animal world. It is not enough that counsel can be had by such young men when they solicit it. The most deserving are not the most forward to propose to themselves a change of circumstances; the most gifted young men are, at a certain period of life, often the last to con- ceive the possibility of rising above their condition and filling a higher sphere. These men require to be sought out and encouraged to hope for extensive usefulness. A kind word, a little opening of future scenes, may be of invaluable assistance at the right time and in the right circumstances. On whom does the duty of performing this friendly office so naturally devolve as on the Christian pastorf These suggestions have no novelty. They must be familiar to the Society. They are considered impor- tant to be presented in this connection only as the obvious foundation of an appeal to the clergy of New Hampshire not to forego the privilege of doing im- portant service to the church and the world by closely searching every corner of the fields opened around them for the precious ore of sanctified talent. This gold and this silver are emphatically the Lord's. Happy is the man who is so fortunate as to bring it forth from its bed and enstamp upon it the superscrip- tion, “Holiness to the Lord.” Ever since the primitive disciples were commanded to pray the Lord of the harvest, that he would send ADVISERS OF YOUNG MEN. 243 forth laborers into his harvest, it has always been the duty of the clergy to direct pious young men to this field of labor; but this duty is now peculiarly incum- bent on them. Throughout Christian nations, and especially in our own country, the lines of distinction between the church and the world are beginning to be drawn with great discrimination. Error seeks no shelter. Vice blushes with no shame. There is a frankness and fearlessness in falsehood and sin, which in other days belonged to truth and virtue. Hence, the name and the forms of religion are less frequently assumed or retained by real lovers of the world. Religion is losing the countenance which it has been accustomed to receive from policy and habit. Those who deny its power are not even at the pains to pre- serve its forms. The consequence is, that, while it seems to have become much less generally respected, it has really lost some important advantages. It is left almost entirely to its own resources. Formerly it gained some aid from the power of education and the support of popular opinion. Now it must rely solely on its intrinsic truth and spiritual energy. Those who know God hear us; and to be won to the knowledge of God, men must be made to listen to the voice of his truth. To make them even nominal Christians, now, the easiest way is to make them real Christians. To secure the confession of Christ, we must gain over the reason, and the conscience, and the heart. In this view of the aspects of society, how clear is the duty of engaging all the talent, all the 244 THE CLERGY THE NATURAL piety, of the community in the contest of truth with error, of religion with impiety, -of training every man to the highest point of skill and vigor in this warfare for which his God has qualified him, and of assign- ing him that position in the field in which he may most effectually contend for the faith delivered to the saints The Directors are aware of the importance of hay- ing religious men in all the professions and in public offices. They know that a pious layman may, in many respects, exert an influence impossible to the clergy. They know the inestimable value of such men as the late lamented Jay and Wirt near the sources of law and power, of having our counsellors wisdom and our exactors righteousness. But they see, also, how utterly vain will be the attempt to raise a pious man to office, in a free country, unless the electors are themselves the friends of piety. In the days which are at hand, in the controversy of light with darkness, already waged with so much bitterness, men’s religious views will be more and more scrutinized. In a time of exasperated feeling on religious subjects, and when the majority are on the side of error, no man can hope for office, without yielding up his conscience and his independence as a sacrifice to the demon of party. It is vain to think of securing a wholesome administration of justice, or of the government, mere- ly by qualifying a few men to discharge public offices with fidelity. The root of the evil of an irreligious, unrighteous government, wherever it is tolerated, is in ADVISERS OF YOUNG MEN. 245 i º the people themselves. To determine the character of the ruler, you must determine the character of the people. The government will be essentially an ex- hibition of the popular character. The great object of the patriot as well as Christian should therefore be by all means to correct the public mind, -to increase the fear of God and the love of duty in the mass of the people. And if it be true that the gospel, en- forced from the pulpit and the press, illustrated in the pastoral life, and infused with the elements of educa- tion into the youthful mind, is indeed the best of all moral influences, – if it be the wisdom of God and the power of God to salvation, having promise of the life that now is, as well as that which is to come, – what can be more important to the state, to the public prosperity and happiness, as well as the spiritual wel- fare of men, than the multiplication of well educated ministers of the word of God P Besides their direct influence, they in fact, and from their office naturally, are called to preside and teach in our literary insti- tutions, our colleges and academies; they are, also, to a great extent, the managers of our literary and religious charities; they give direction, we may say, chiefly, to the benevolence of the community. They lead the way in theoretic morality, national and indi- vidual. Directly or indirectly, a well educated and pious clergy, in the discharge of their official and private duties, ministering the word of God with fidelity and steadiness, and relying on the simple and permanent institutions of the New Testament and the 246 THE CLERGY THE NATURAL spirit of God, -such a clergy, supplying every church, and covering the breadth of the land, are the means ordained of God for the promotion of civil freedom, of domestic happiness, and of spiritual life to the people. If we turn our attention from this view of the con- nection of the Christian ministry with the prospects of our own country, we are presented with a field of unexampled extent, ripe unto harvest, in the Eastern world. The facilities of commerce and frequency of intercourse among the remotest nations are rapidly diminishing the repugnance to labor in distant lands. A voyage to China is now scarcely more dreaded than a trip to the Carolinas, or the continent of Europe, formerly was. By a remarkable coincidence, just at this period, we see the great empires of Asia opening their bosom to the missionary, and the spirit of inquiry agitating the mighty mass of her long motionless and dead population. The elements of moral life appear to be in action, and preparation is evidently making in these delightful regions, where our race was cradled, for a spiritual regeneration. Thus the call for preach- ers of the gospel, at home and abroad, is entirely unprecedented. And much as we have reason to deplore the decline of respect for what is rendered venerable by age, or sacred by being associated with the recollections or the habits of our youth, we have still reason to rejoice and to bless God that the very same spirit which is thus breaking up the wholesome preju- dices of Christian lands is also sapping the founda- ADVISERS OF YOUNG MEN. 24.7 tions of spiritual tyranny and ancient superstition in the pagan world. It may be matter of doubt, even, whether, on the whole, any thing is to be feared from the bold and reckless spirit of society in Christian nations. The immediate fruits may be fatal to multi- tudes. Many will drink of the poison and die. But there will ultimately be a reaction. The human mind will not rest in this irreverence for what is sacred, this unconcern for what is future. There is a conscious- mess of high and momentous relations, of spiritual, moral, and religious destinies, deeply fixed in the soul, and effectually smothered only by utter ignorance and mental stupidity. In an enlightened age, its voice will be heard. The public mind may be hurried away, in this and that direction, to most deplorable and ruinous extremes; but it will return. And if those whose business it is to administer counsel to that mind, in its periods of recovered reason, are found at their post and adequate to their duties, morality and religion will reap substantial benefits from the very aberrations of folly and guilt. Thus Divine Providence will educe good from all this evil. The utter unrea- sonableness and dreariness of impiety will compel men to seek with renewed earnestness for a solid foundation of peace and hope in the gospel of the Son of God. To the prospect of such a day let the clergy be awake. For the rich harvest of such a period let the churches be prepared. Let us pray the Lord of the harvest that he would send forth laborers into his harvest. And let us prove the 248 THE CLERGY THE ADVISERS OF YOUNG MEN. sincerity of our supplications by zealously seeking to bring forward for the work the talents and piety that lie concealed in the retired and humble scenes of life. UNITY OF PURSUIT IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. FROM THE BIBLICAL REPOSITORY FOR JULY, 1836. THE pulpit, and the services connected with it, are entirely Christian. The synagogue-worship, during the later periods of the Jewish history, is hardly an exception. Though it doubtless contained the germ of our present public religious instruction, it was but the germ, and, even if it had been much more per- fect, need not be distinguished from Christianity; the Jewish and the Christian systems are essentially one. To the classical nations nothing was known suffi- ciently analogous to the modern pulpit to be compared with it; and in no heathen country, ancient or modern, has any thing like it appeared. Of the Christian religion it is one of the most prom- inent and striking features; and, whether considered as furnishing a new theatre of eloquence, or a new mode of professional life, is, undoubtedly, entitled to the highest consideration among the causes which are in future to affect the civilization and moral improve- ment of the world. Indeed, it would scarcely be extravagant to say 32 250 UNITY OF PURSUIT that pulpit eloquence and the pastoral care are as original and as remarkable peculiarities of the gospel as are its sublime and delightful truths themselves. We have by no means exhausted the internal argu- ment for our religion, when we have considered its beautiful morality, its consistency, its simplicity, its inconceivably grand, yet natural and easy, representa- tions of the character and love of God. The means adopted to secure its own promulgation, and to keep its principles alive in the hearts of men, equally indi- cate a superhuman origin; they must have come from the same divine source. How simple and how mighty! a single inspired volume, a common standard for the preacher and the hearer, the text-book for the pulpit, and a companion for the closet, to which the loftiest genius may not presume to add, and which the hum- blest intellect need not despair of understanding; a distinct order of men to expound its doctrines and ad- minister its rites; and one day in seven consecrated to the public discussion of its truths and duties. To the influence of the regular and frequent public preach- ing of the gospel must be added, what is, perhaps, still more peculiar, and certainly more generally and deeply affecting, the duties of the pastoral office. In this office, the appointed expositor of our sacred book, the administrator of our holy solemnities, clothed, of course, with something of the venerableness with which we invest religion itself, is brought into the most confidential and endearing relations. The ordi- nation of a minister of religion over a particular church IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 251 - and congregation brings him into a connection with them, in itself most interesting, and is the occasion of a series of other relations in the highest degree tender and affectionate, fitted to awaken many of the kindest and most sacred feelings. To his pastor a man resorts in the trials which oppress his own heart or his house, unbosoms himself to him as to a wife or a father, communes with him without reserve and without dis- trust. With all the more important changes of life the pastor is intimately associated. He solemnizes our marriages, baptizes our children, visits our sick, buries our dead. By the gravity of his presence our social mirth is chastened; the cheerfulness of his spirit gladdens our melancholy hours. He resolves our con- scientious doubts, and directs our charity. The com- panion of every age and of both sexes, teacher, coun- sellor, and monitor, our “own friend and our father's friend,” the Christian pastor has a hold upon the re- spect and the affections of society, in kind and degree altogether peculiar. Compared with his, how frigid and powerless was the office of the priesthood in Greece or Rome! Any man might sustain it in con- sistency with any other avocation. The Caesars were the head of the fraternity in their time. Without a particular charge, without a Sabbath, without a Bible, without regular public instruction, without a spiritual cure, without the domestic relation of the Christian clergy, what were they, what could they be, as to the great moral interests of the world, compared with the ministers of the New Testament? 252 UNITY OF PURSUIT It augurs well for the world, that the importance of the Christian ministry is not at present lost sight of in Christian countries. In our own, no subject, per- haps, is better understood by the church. The supply of a competent ministry is justly regarded as the great object of the Christian patriot and philanthropist. Whether we contemplate the moral renovation of New England, the amelioration of the unhappy condition of our Southern fellow-citizens, or the right direction of the mighty energies that are accumulating in the West; whether we confine our view to our own country, or take in, also, the vast portions of the earth yet to be recovered to God, to be civilized and saved ; whether we consider the intelligence, peace, and prosperity of the present life, or extend our anticipations to the in- finitely more important scenes of a future existence, the same conclusion is forced upon the mind, as to the instrumentality most indispensable in carrying out our plans of beneficence. The conviction is every day strengthening in reflecting minds, that what is chiefly wanted, in order to give energy to all our Christian institutions, and through them to preserve the intelli- gence, the freedom, and the piety of Christian nations, and to carry these blessings in equal or greater degrees to the miserable inhabitants of pagan countries, is not so much increase of money, or increase of books, as increase of men, – of mind sanctified and devoted to ministerial and missionary labor. Wealth is flowing in upon the land like a flood; every honest employment is successful beyond all for- - º - IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 253 mer example ; every talent gains ten. The Christian community share, to a full equality with others, in this unprecedented prosperity. Of such a state of things the natural result is a corresponding liberality of ex- penditure. Money cannot be generally valued for its own sake. The miser is too sordid, too despicable, a character to be common. Facility of acquisition leads inevitably to generosity, and ultimately, if no strong moral principle prevent, to prodigality and luxury. The consequence of this course of things has hereto- fore been, that nations which have succeeded in re- sisting external violence, and in establishing a wise domestic policy, have, in the end, always perished by their very prosperity, have died of plethora. To this catastrophe our own country is rapidly hastening. Our only alternative is a national benevolence com- mensurate with our national pecuniary prosperity. “God loveth a cheerful giver,” should be our motto. And it is matter of devout thanksgiving that Chris- tians are beginning to adopt it. The principle of in- dulgence is giving way to that of charity. The free- dom of expenditure which grows out of rapidity and certainty of acquisition is taking, to some extent, a wholesome and safe direction. Wherever ingenious benevolence finds out a new mode of doing good, we are now assured that the necessary funds shall not be wanting. Make out a plain case, no matter how great the undertaking or how expensive, only show it to be practicable and wise, and no man need despair of money enough to 254 UNITY OF PURSUIT accomplish it. Multitudes are devoting their income to the service of Christ as readily and as earnestly as others are investing it in speculation. So that we may say, with confidence, that what is principally wanted is not money, but men, -hearts to feel, and heads to contrive, or hands to toil. Men all over the land will give their tens, or twenties, or fifties of thousands, as cheerfully as hundreds, if the enterprise be proportionally great and interesting to the church of God. Not a society for any worthy object, and founded on Christian principles, fails in our day for want of funds. Every institution rises from the dust, and pushes its way upward, if mind and soul inspire it. What intelligent and devoted man has spread out the warm conceptions of a benevolent heart, and urged his pious objects in vain? What cause is ably pleaded in public, or in the ear of private charity, without ef- fect? Sums are contributed by every denomination of Christians for every Christian object, which a quarter of a century ago would have been thought as impos- sible to raise as to find the “philosopher’s stone.” The language of the worldling himself not unfitly expresses the spirit which has been thus suddenly awakened in the American church, –“Who will show us any good f * She is actually giving just as much as there are found men to use for the great purposes of Christian charity. At the same time that such a direction is given to the liberality of the Christian portion of a prospered people, it is remarkable that a field of labor is opened : IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 255 ſ fully corresponding to these resources of charity. The vast increase of population in the United States, the settlement of immense tracts of country at the South and west of us, the rapid population of the Canadas by immigration from the overpeopled mother country, the breaking up of the old state of things throughout the whole of South America, the opening of the Cath- olic countries of the Eastern continent to Protestant missionaries, the introduction of the gospel among many savage tribes hitherto neglected, and, above all, the recent relaxing everywhere manifest of the system of intolerance which has so long been supposed to exclude the preachers of the gospel from the great empires of idolatry and superstition, — all together give an entirely new shade to the prospect, and au- thorize us to adopt the language of our Saviour, as almost literally descriptive of the fact, —“The field is the world.” To complete the picture of the actual state of things, it should also be considered that the instruments and means of Christian influence were never before so fit nor so abundant. Never had mind such access to mind, such power over mind. Never had individual activity such scope, such ubiquity. The power of the press is just beginning to be understood ; the arts which minister to it have made such progress, that the facility and cheapness of publication, in every variety of form, and in almost all languages, would, in any former age, have been utterly incredible. Reading is fast becoming a universal accomplishment, a popular 256 UNITY OF PURSUIT amusement in civilized nations, and is made a principal object of attention by the Christian philanthropist, wherever he goes. A universal peace and universal commerce are bringing the remotest nations to greater intimacy and greater confidence in each other. In- deed, it is the very time of all times in which it is a privilege to live, to be a man, and feel the conscious dignity and energy of moral strength. The great object of solicitude, therefore, with the considerate part of the Christian world, is, naturally enough, the raising up of men, men of mind and heart, men of resources and a right spirit. Never was such a field open for them since God first watered the earth from out of heaven; never such occasion to “pray the Lord of the harvest, that he would send laborers into his harvest”; never such reason to make the utmost of every young man whose heart is sanctified and di- rected to the Christian ministry. The thought last suggested was chiefly in the mind of the writer when he took up his pen; and he trusts the preceding remarks will not appear to be an inap- propriate introduction to what he is about to say on the subject placed at the head of this article. The circumstances which render the ministry an important institution, and which give that institution peculiar importance at the present time, are precisely those which call upon the instructers of young men design- ed for the pulpit, and still more upon the young men themselves, and upon such as are actually introduced into it, to make the utmost of their talents and ad- vantages. i IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 257 In order to do this, an undivided heart is, not among other things, but above all other things, indispensable. The candidate for the office of the ministry, and the man invested with that office, must be men of a single eye, must have one object and be consecrated to it. Nothing is plainer than that our full energies are never put forth unless the object be single. No mind can act with freedom and effect, if it be oppressed with grief or care, or embarrassed with pecuniary or other difficulties. Who does not know how impossi- ble it is to study amidst the involuntary and unwel- come intrusions of thoughts that perplex and disturb us P. Who has not lost hours and days and months in expelling solicitudes, which, like the indomitable fly, return, after a thousand brushes, as fearless and as impudent as ever ? If thoughts which we loathe and resist have such power, much more, certainly, have those we welcome and cherish. If we may be so much annoyed by an external enemy, when all is har- mony and unity within, how much more, when divided against ourselves, betrayed by foes in our own bosoms! Many a mighty man, who, like the son of Manoah, had broken the withes and cords of the Philistines as a thread of tow, has been shorn of the locks of his strength by an enemy in his own house. It is true of every department of human labor and enterprise, that the success of individuals, the amount of power they have exerted, and the attainments they have made, correspond, in a remarkable degree, to the singleness and earnestness of mind with which they 33 258 UNITY OF PURSUIT have devoted their lives to particular objects. General scholars, without a particular, definite pursuit, have rarely accomplished any thing worthy of the admira- tion or gratitude of the world. The rays of knowl- edge must be concentrated to a focus to show their full power either to burn or to illuminate. The great discoveries of truth, and the great inventions of genius, are almost always effected by minds intensely fixed on a single end, and accustomed to view every thing in its relation to that end. Indeed, what we call univer- sal knowledge is the result of particular investigations. The man who studies without an aim forgets as fast almost as he learns; his acquisitions, having no spe- cific object, have no permanent associations in the mind, nothing to attach themselves to, no nucleus to gather about, no principle of connection with each other to serve as a thread by which the memory can trace them and command them as occasion requires. On the other hand, any single subject pursued at length into all its relations is found to extend almost to infinity. The mind, once thoroughly engaged in it, begins to see it running out in this and that direc- tion, where it never expected to trace it. Ideas bear- ing on it are suggested from innumerable sources to which the superficial observer has no thought of look- ing for them. Science after science contributes to his treasures ; author after author is consulted ; all that mind has conceived, all that nature exhibits, seems to be somehow or other related to his favorite pursuit. It begins to be regarded by him as a kind of centre IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 259 of knowledge, the science of sciences, the pursuit of all pursuits. And by and by he really discovers an acquaintance with the productions of genius and the truths of nature so various and so wonderful as to be considered a man of universal knowledge. The only mistake made in respect to him is, that men imagine his success in a particular pursuit to be the conse- quence of his acquirements; whereas his acquirements are the result of his devotion to his main pursuit. He has not succeeded because he was learned ; he has become learned because he was determined to suc- ceed. The same thing is yet more strikingly true of men in active life. “Have not too many irons in the fire,” says the proverb. “We cannot have too many, -in with them, shovel, tongs, poker and all,” says the ec- centric Dr. Clarke. The truth seems to be, that we can hardly have too many, so be they are irons all, - not iron, and brass, and silver, and gold together. Two things may divide the heart and paralyze exertion, if they be opposite in their nature and inconsistent in their influence. Twenty may be pursued together, with energy and success, if they be harmonious and of the same ultimate tendency. If, in all a man does, the same end be in view, -if one principle bind to- gether all the objects of his attention, and one feeling stimulate him always, – if all the influence he exerts, like the agencies of many wheels in a well constructed piece of machinery, tend directly to the same point, — it is no matter how many irons he has in the fire. 260 UNITY OF PURSUIT The spirit that animates him will generally be found watchful as well as enterprising. And if, occasionally, he happen to attempt more than he can accomplish, he will be found to accomplish more than most men attempt. But this unity of object, this singleness of purpose, amidst variety of action, is indispensable to any thing like character or efficiency, whatever be our sphere of life. Enterprises of importance commonly involve the activity of many minds, and agencies not a little unlike in kind and remote in their origin from each other. To the careless observer, a shrewd, foreseeing man may appear to be laboring at random, or to little pur- pose, while he is really combining materials for the most decisive and valuable influence. The fountains which supply a river are remote and invisible from each other, and from the noble stream itself which they ultimately combine to form. But, whatever may ap- pear to others, a mind well disciplined and well di- rected understands itself, and is often most certainly and rapidly hastening to its results, when others least perceive the tendency of its operations. But, whether understood by others or not, there must be one all-controlling, all-absorbing object, or the highest efforts of the mind cannot be called forth. INecessity is the mother of invention, because it stimu- lates the mind to the degree of exertion necessary for invention. Great exigencies in human affairs produce great displays of character, because they present the only motives which are capable of sufficiently rousing IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 261 the energies of the human intellect. The measure of mind exhibited, and consequently the measure of suc- cess, under God, in every sphere of action, is the amount of motive actually felt by us in that sphere. This determines, of necessity, the appropriation of our time, the prudent husbanding of our resources, the keenness of our observation, our vigilance, our exact- ness and punctuality, every thing in our counsels and our movements which is in any way connected with the great end for which, and for which alone, we seem to ourselves to live. Now it is well known that no view which the hu- man mind seems capable of taking of a multiplicity of objects ever furnishes the very highest motives to exertion. The division of attention is the death of enthusiasm. The object must be one, which rouses the mind to the loftiest pitch of excitement; it must be a world in itself; and, for the time, exclude all other things, because itself fills the utmost capacity of the soul. It is so in art, in poetry, in heroic enterprise, in every department in which what we call genius or moral greatness has appeared. The application of these remarks to the Christian ministry, and to such as are intending to enter it, is very obvious. Here, as elsewhere, to make the most of a man, we must secure the consecration of his life and energies to one great end, - the end, in this case, for which a minister of the gospel lives. He should be a man of various accomplishments; he must act in a variety of scenes; he needs a power of adaptation 262 UNITY OF PURSUIT to a multiplicity of employments; but, in all, he must have one and the same object, and that object ever in his eye. Holiness to the Lord should be written upon his forehead. If he consults, a little, his literary reputa- tion, — a little, the increase of his estate, – a little, the commendation of his people, – a little, the indulgence of ease and the gratification of appetite, – and, with the rest, a little, the salvation of souls and the glory of God, -he has a divided heart, and is faulty. He may do well, may do good. But he will do little of what he might do. Talents that might move society, and accelerate all the wheels of Christian enterprise, will be comparatively wasted. Advantages which many a devoted man would have rejoiced to possess will be neglected. What is wanted at this moment, more than every thing else, is the spirit of consecra- tion to the work of the Christian ministry ; the spirit that leads the minister to magnify his office, to feel that for him to live is Christ; the spirit that animated Paul, when he resolved to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified, - and Mills, when he deter- mined that the world should feel his influence before he died. There is, at this hour, no want of talent in the min- istry, to give the church, under God, an impulse that would speedily change the entire face of society. What individuals, now living, have done in the tem- perance reformation, what Wilberforce and Clarkson did in the abolition of the slave-trade, what Worcester did for foreign missions, what Porter did for the edu- IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 263 cation of young men for the ministry, what the father of our sacred literature has done for the interpretation of the Scriptures, has all been done by no “gift di- vine,” no peculiar natural power, but by the ardent and sleepless devotion of abilities possessed by them in common with hundreds, and of acquisitions within the reach of hundreds, to one work. John Wesley, though a man of uncommon native power, neverthe- less owed his extraordinary success more to his spirit of self-consecration to his profession than to any nat- ural endowments. His great coadjutor, Whitefield, owed still less to native genius. Yet these men were instrumental of reviving religion in both hemispheres, — of producing an era in the history of the gospel in Great Britain and America. Multitudes of living in- dividuals are capable of doing, I do not say as much, but likewise. Not a man rises up among us, in the spirit of these models of devotion to Jesus Christ, who does not leave some permanent traces of his power on society. We need finer scholars, more finished elo- quence, more consistent theologians ; but more than all, and as the best means of procuring all these, we need more professional earnestness, more single-heart- edness, more devotion to the service of God. This principle is a constant force, and, like the power of gravitation, constantly augmented. It is the secret of advancement in every benevolent enterprise. It gives a man character; inspires confidence; it is ingenious in expedients; lays all men, all books, all nature, under contribution; it borrows illustrations from the present 264 UNITY OF PURSUIT and the past, from history and imagination, from life and science; it reaches the springs of feeling and of action in men’s minds. It is sleepless, fearless, un- compromising, and unconquerable. In the cause of error such a spirit has effected all but miracles. In the cause of truth it is irresistible; for it has the con- sciences of men and God himself on its side. The means of cultivating this professional enthusi- asm are extremely obvious and simple; so obvious, indeed, and so much within the reach of ordinary minds, that it is to be feared they are, for this very reason, not unfrequently neglected. Theology opens to the student a field of inquiry absolutely boundless. Whatever is attractive in men- tal philosophy, in natural science, in rhetoric and belles-lettres, – whatever, in short, admits of being contemplated in relation to the perfections and provi- dence of God, or to the illustration or improvement of human character, comes fairly within the circle of his investigations, and may, not improperly, engage his attention. The consequence is, that minds of much curiosity, capable of the pleasures of speculation and taste, not seldom plunge into this sea of thought, and are essentially lost to the profession of which they are members. As literary men, as friends of education, examples of moderation in the indulgences of life, in- structive companions of the merchant or the states- man, good, gentle, affectionate, pure-minded men, they are known, and have their reward. To such men we owe many a useful and agreeable book; to a few of IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 265 them the world is deeply indebted. For what price would we be induced to part with all that English literature owes to the eminent men who have assumed the profession of a minister to pursue the occupations of a scholar P What is to be regretted is, that, for one who opens a new train of useful thoughts, or adds a valuable contribution to the stock of human knowl- edge, scores, without doing any thing useful, sacrifice their duty to their tastes, and sink their sacred office in their social virtues. They are always optimists; they dread the idea of innovation or excitement; their utmost ambition is to keep things quiet ; the perfec- tion of society, with them, is to be still. They origi- nate no enterprise; wake up no dormant energies in their churches; their preaching and their pastoral character betray a heart intent on any thing but the renovation of men's minds. When great vices are to be assailed, and strongholds of popular iniquity to be carried, no armies are mustered under their banners. With the primitive clergy it was not so. So was it not with those who planted Christianity in the western countries of Europe, or with those who aroused those countries from death in the sixteenth century. So was it not with the Puritan clergy, with the authors of the evangelical excitements in this country and in England in the last century, or with the originators of modern missions. Let not these remarks, however, be misunderstood. The proper alternative is not neglect, much less con- tempt, of classical accomplishments and profound 34 266 UNITY OF PURSUIT knowledge. It is the subordination of these, however earnestly cultivated, to the great and holy objects of a minister of the New Testament, the conversion and salvation of men. The simple and obvious means of securing this, to which allusion was just made, is, in the opinion of the writer, a return to a much neglected practice, we fear it must be said, of former times, the practice of a daily devotional study of God’s word. The Bible is doubtless neglected by no portion of Christians or Christian ministers. By many it is care- fully studied. But it is a question, whether the kind of attention bestowed on it has not essentially changed within the recollection of the present generation. The true principles of interpretation are, indeed, better understood than formerly; the facilities for an intelli- gent acquaintance with the Scriptures are greatly in- creased. These advantages are by no means to be lightly esteemed. They are indispensable to unlock the inexhaustible treasures of spiritual instruction and devotional feeling contained in the inspired volume. Another age will realize their full importance. Our danger is, that, in the eager cultivation of a new branch of professional study (for such Biblical criticism cer- tainly is among us), we shall be too much satisfied with the merely intellectual ; forgetting that “knowledge is not grace,” that a man may be learned upon devotion itself, without being devout. A Biblical scholar and a “Bible Christian * are not necessarily the same man. A critical acquaintance with the original Scriptures IN THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. - 267 is not easily overestimated ; but all such knowledge is dead, unless it serve to promote a spirit of devotion to God. The Bible knows but one end of living ; it ordains its ministers and interpreters for one object. That object it holds out everywhere. For them “to live is CHRIST.” It is all full of the spirit of Christ, of holy and heavenly love. And in the man who truly “ meditates in this law of God,” it becomes “a well of water springing up unto eternal life.” This spirit is the breath of a minister of Jesus Christ, the life of his life. No philosophy can be a substitute for it. No measure of genius, no splendid gifts, can Supersede it. No natural or acquired endowments, no amiableness of disposition, no sweetness of temper, no prudence of speech or action, no courtesy or grace of manners, can atone for its absence. It cannot be assumed ; no art can counterfeit it. It must inform the soul of the man. When it does so, it sanctifies him, it consecrates him. It makes men feel the truth of the words of Jesus, “He that rejecteth you rejecteth ME.” PERSONAL PIETY IN CANDIT)ATES FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT CLAREMONT, AUGUST 24, 1837. THE subject which the Directors of the Education Society have chosen for consideration at this time is that of the importance of cultivating in its beneficia- ries the spirit of Christian piety. The object of the ministry is the production of such a spirit in the whole world. For this purpose the gospel is preach- ed. For this end, ultimately, all education should be conducted, and all enterprise encouraged. We should live only to do good; and the great good, to which all other good is subservient, and into which all other good is, at last, resolved, is the universal prevalence of the spirit of Jesus Christ. Without this spirit, wealth is poor, power is impotent, intellect is cold, and the heart, in the very spring of life, is dry and dead. Without it, man never truly lives in this world, and has no hope, because he has no God, beyond the grave. He may be a king, but he wears a crown of thorns; he may call the earth his own, but its treasures are ashes to his taste; he may have an angel’s intellect, but he must have with it an angel’s remorse. PIETY IN CANDIDATES FOR THE MINISTRY. 269 True piety should, therefore, be cultivated by can- didates for the sacred ministry, no less than by others, as the life of their own souls. It should be cultivated by them for other reasons, also, and in a tenfold de- gree. Some of these we propose now to suggest. 1. Personal piety is an essential trait of a Christian minister. Without it, he cannot justly eachibit the truths of the gospel. To preach truth is not necessarily to preach the truth. A sermon may contain nothing false, and yet be far from containing what it ought to contain, and still farther from exhibiting truth in its proper relations and real colors. A man of inactive piety will, almost of necessity, preach a distorted Chris- tianity. If his creed should be orthodox, according to the most approved standards, it will still be repul- sive. It may be dogmatical, or harsh, or cold, or dry, or sour. One may scarcely be able to tell in what the fault lies; but a fault, he is sure, there is. He sees that people turn away from such preaching; he feels like turning away from it himself. And were it not that substantial points of Christian doctrine do really appear in it, doctrine which he would never be thought to despise or oppose, he would do no such penance as to sit under such preaching. But in the picture which inspiration has given us, no wry, un- lovely feature impairs the dignity or mars the beauty of the daughter of God. But it is, perhaps, more probable that a preacher of undecided piety will insensibly fall into error, – will 270 PERSONAL PIETY IN CANDIDATES slide down, down from the empyrean summit of truth, into the mists and shadows below. Here he sees less distinctly, walks less securely, and breathes less freely. Without running into absolute heresy, he be- comes cloudy and shadowy ; his reasoning is shackled by his prudence; his admonitions lose their point; his pictures become dim. His real power, as a min- ister of God, is gone. The simplicity of soul, the logic of the heart, which subdues us without the show of arms, is not his. There may be what men some- times take for eloquence, — argument, declamation, description, expostulation, — all the form and circum- stance of oratory, - grace of attitude, euphony, and a certain kind of animation, — nothing is wanting to the man but soul. There is a point from which every remarkable scene in nature is viewed to the utmost advantage. At this point the painter stands; and from the same point we must suppose ourselves to look at his picture. Just so there is a point of beauty for the moral land- scape, – a position from which alone the truth is seen in its full glory and power. Here the inspired paint- ers stood and sketched the picture of divine revela- tion. To this point the minister of Christ must go, and there he must stand, if he would do justice to the truths of the gospel. He must see things as David and Isaiah saw them, as Paul and John saw them, or he cannot delineate them as these men did. This point of observation, in respect to natural objects, or the representations of them on canvass, FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 271 implies something more than mere local position. When I look at a landscape or a picture, I must not only know where to place my feet, but where to place my mind also. There is, for every such scene, whether natural or artificial, an appropriate intellectual and moral position. To enjoy to the utmost the ruins of Athens or of Babylon, I must not only stand upon some eminence which commands the most striking remains of their ancient magnificence and splendor, but I must be able to take a certain mental position, to look around me from that intellectual point of view which commands the moral landscape of the place. There is a certain kind of knowledge, and there are certain habits of feeling, as indispensable to the just appreciation of the scene as my local position, and, indeed, far more so ; for, without the recollec- tions and associations of the student of ancient his- tory, without some sensibility to wonderful events and great achievements, what is all we see at Athens or Babylon but common rock and common earth We walk over the ruins of empires and the fragments of art without admiration or emotion. When the object is altogether mental, the point of view also is exclusively mental. The position for contemplating truth is the state of the mind itself of the spectator. He is in the right place who is in the right state, – who thinks and feels right. And in proportion as this truth is practical, and takes hold of the imagination and the heart, in the same pro- portion is a right state of heart the principal thing 272 PERSONAL PIETY IN CANDIDATES necessary to do it justice. To appreciate abstract, scientific truth, knowledge alone is needful. To ap- preciate the poetical, the beautiful, the affecting, the just, the holy, the spiritual, moral sensibility, a heart attuned to these objects is indispensable. To sup- pose, therefore, that mere intellect can do justice to the truths of revelation is to lose sight of the most peculiar and important features of revelation. For, in fact, there is little that is new in the abstract truths of the Bible, in relation either to God or man. Most of this class of truths are all assumed by the sacred writers. It is the new light in which they are considered that makes the Scriptures the power of God and the wisdom of God to salvation. That there is a God, all-wise, almighty, and infinitely good, is not revealed by the Bible, -it is taught by nature. The Bible gives new and inexpressible interest to these truths, by the relation in which it places them to me, –to my wants, my sins, my prospects, my spiritual nature and condition. To do justice to the doctrines of such a revelation, in my preaching, I must have something more and better than all knowl- edge; I must have a heart to feel,- a soul alive to every touch of sympathy, to every smile of joy, to every shade of woe, in the picture of a world in ruins, and a world redeemed. Again; without eminent piety, a minister cannot be a true pastor. With some variety of circumstances, the Christian character is always the same thing, and is begun and FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 273 finished in the same way. Similar causes awaken us all from the dream of sin; similar trials put our prin- ciples to the test; similar occasions exhibit our virtues and our defects; we fall by the same enemy, and are rescued by the same means. And the skill we acquire in winning others to Christ, or in strengthening their faith or comforting their hearts, is almost all derived from our own experience. It is wonderful how little we learn of any thing from the experience of others. Of practical religion we are exceedingly ignorant, until our own souls have experienced its power. To be a spiritual guide, a minister must be a spiritual Illall. And then what interesting scenes in pastoral life owe their best influence to the Christian temper of the man of God with whom they are so intimately associated From our birth to our death, life is full of incidents and changes that derive their moral com- plexion and influence, in no small degree, from the spirit of our pastor. The baptismal service, the sick- bed, and the burial scene, how closely they are all connected in our memories with the reverend aspect, the gentle intercourse, the affectionate tones of “our own peculiar friend and our father's friend”! How soft and holy an air is breathed around the places we have known, and the scenes we have passed through, by the love and sanctity of some true disciple and minister of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the relation of a Christian pastor! On the necessity of ardent piety to ministerial in- 35 274, PERSONAL PIETY IN CANDIDATES dustry, and patience, and enterprise, we have not time to dwell. Suffice it to remark, that, at all times, and especially when exciting topics are discussed and conflicting measures adopted, when sin is bold and error impudent, a minister has no security for his peace of mind, or consistency of life, or extensive usefulness, but in the purity of his conscience and the simplicity of his heart. 2. In the second place, personal piety is eminently useful during the course of preparation for the min- istry. It is so to the student himself. It is the best pre- servative from indolence and frivolous employments. No other motive is so generous and so ennobling. The mind in which Christian sentiments are fresh and warm, in which love to God and benevolence to man are daily kindled anew by daily converse with spirit- ual things and daily communion with Christ, feels the loss of time like an affliction, and reaches after knowledge, the great instrument of power, with in- expressible eagerness. In minds thus actuated, taste is not gratified at the hazard of principle, nor amuse- ment indulged in at the expense of intelligence. In such minds the unamiable passions are not nourished, whilst the faculties are developed. Envy, and jeal- ousy, and vanity are reproved and repressed. That charity which seeketh not its own, is not easily pro- voked, is not puffed up, is a branch of Christian piety, and fails not to diffuse itself through the entire char- acter, and to interweave itself with the whole life of FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 275 the man in whom the spirit of Christ dwells richly. His heart is its home ; it beams from his eyes, speaks from his lips, distils from his fingers, breathes around him an atmosphere in which God and angels delight to dwell; for he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. Improvement in piety is ne- cessary, in connection with intellectual improvement, in order to preserve the proper balance of the mental powers. Unless the moral sensibilities are cultivated in due proportion to the understanding, the symmetry of the character is destroyed. If the intellectual powers greatly predominate, the spirit of the man becomes speculative and frigid. He analyzes a grain of sand, and displays the mechanism of a human body, with equal indifference; contemplates the changes of the earth, the revolutions of empires, and the separa- tion of soul and body by death, with little more emo- tion than is excited in him by the changes of the seasons, or the alternations of day and night. The moral and sensitive is lost in the intellectual man. Affection, enthusiasm, the life of the spirit, is nearly extinct. Knowledge is now an end, not a means. The man lives to see, not sees to live. But when, as God intended, the heart is expanded as the intellect is enlarged, and the moral feelings are elevated as the views are extended, then knowledge is happiness, is eloquence, is greatness, is spiritual life. But the utility of piety as a leading trait in the student’s character is not confined to himself. The scenes of his education are among the most inviting 276 PERSONAL PIETY IN CANDIDATES fields of Christian beneficence. It is, doubtless, much for the honor of Christ, if the guardians and instruc- tors of the young are spiritual men, and the institu- tions they conduct baptized. They will not fail to do something towards the production of a Christian taste and a Christian philosophy. But there is a sphere of influence which they cannot fill. There is a charm in youthful piety, a freshness and life in the first shootings forth of religion from the virgin soil of a young heart, like the rich green of an early spring. We may venerate the religion of our seniors, but it is distant and above us, an example for our manhood or old age. The most it does is to excite the resolution to die the death of the righteous, and to make our last end like his. The piety of an equal and associ- ate in study is the living presence of love, an em- bodied conscience, an angel in our common nature, moving in the midst of us, sitting at our elbow, sleep- ing by our side. And when the character is strongly marked, when an air of unusual sanctity and sweet- ness is thrown around it, we cannot breathe without inhaling health; we cannot move without catching something of the manner we admire ; we cannot think without insensibly weaving into the texture of our own minds a film of Christian thought, or a hue of moral feeling. And the instances are very numer- ous of a decided religious influence exerted by pious young men at the academy, in college, and in a course of professional education, most delightful in its aspect and permanent in its results. It is influence FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 277 upon educated mind, influence at the fountains of intellectual and moral character. Happy, indeed, is that young man who, before he enters the field, an- ticipates its labors and its rewards, and, while yet preparing to do good in the profession he has chosen, is sowing the seeds of a harvest of laborers in the same field. 3. If not acquired during the course of education, such piety is not likely to be acquired at all. It is a great mistake, not seldom made by young men, to suppose that their future circumstances will mould their character; that, however they may for the present indulge themselves in habits which must by and by be put off, and which they do not wholly approve even now, they shall not fail to accommodate them- selves to their employments in active life. And this delusion is still cherished, after so many delineations of character, good and evil, growing up from infancy to age, and all along bearing the same marks, as much the same, at every stage, as the plant or the human body. It is too well understood to need stating, that no essential change in the habits of thinking, or the turn of the mind, or the tastes, is ordinarily to be looked for after the age at which professional study is completed. What, in these respects, men are, on leaving the retirement of education, we expect them to be, substantially, through life. For, in ordinary cases, the future is but the development and ripening of seeds already sown. The mind receives its first impulse from without; but it is an impulse only. The 278 PERSONAL PIETY IN CANDIDATES action which succeeds propagates itself; thought is the only perpetual motion. The lessons of external nature and of life, the ten thousand influences of the thousands of thousands of objects on every side of us, are only so much food for the mind. With a charac- ter thus early formed, it, like the body, receives what is presented to it, appropriates what it can assimilate to itself, and rejects the rest. If, therefore, it may be said with truth that man is the creature of cir- cumstances, it may be said with equal, and even greater truth, that circumstances are the creatures of man. After a certain period, a man is not so much accommodated to his place as the place is accommo- dated to the man. The mind is in this sense its own place. Everywhere it finds something congenial to its nature, and everywhere cherishes its own associa- tions, and lives in its own atmosphere. What is thus true of the mind in general is no less true of Christian character in particular. The tone of principle and feeling exhibited in a course of edu- cation is rarely much changed in after life. The kind of motives that are accustomed to influence us in college, and the spirit which distinguishes our social intercourse and our private hours there, are very likely to be characteristic of us as long as we live. No habit is easily changed ; and such habits are gen- erally retained, without seeming to us to require any change. - In this view, it is an object of great importance to give a right shape to the religious character of the FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 279 young men under our patronage as early as possible, —to see, that, as far as it may be in our power to determine it, a truly Christian, catholic, enterprising, devoted piety be cherished in them from the very outset, and by all means. To this end, let their char- acters be studied, and their habits watched. Let their teachers be persuaded to seek nothing else so earnestly as to ground and settle them in the princi- ples and exercises of a spiritual, Scriptural, religious experience. And let the churches pray that these objects of their charity may not only be furnished with knowledge, but much more with the graces of the Holy Spirit, —with the simplicity and meekness, the devotion, the zeal, the divine love of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. If we would raise up a gener- ation of ministers who shall understand the truths of the gospel and preach them in their just proportion and divine spirit, who shall be intelligent, faithful, and affectionate pastors, –if we would conduct their edu- cation on the best principles, and make them most useful in their preparation for professional life, we must not lose sight of their spiritual condition; we must set nothing in intellect, or knowledge, or man- ner, above a heart right in the sight of God, - a spirit like that of our blessed Lord and Master. Such a spirit is the true interpreter of God's holy word, and of the human heart, — the only inspiration for which a poor, feeble, half-illumined man is permitted to hope; the only pledge he has that God, whose will he strives to do, will not forsake him in his trials, nor suffer him to be a reproach or a burden to the church. MISCELLANEOUS READING. FROM THE AMERICAN QUARTERLY REGISTER, FOR FEBRUARY, 1838. MUCH of the student's time, even at the academy, and still more in college, is at his own disposal, - to be devoted to miscellaneous reading, and to society with his fellow-students or others, or to be consumed in revery and sloth. On the disposition he makes of this portion of academical life his personal habits and ultimate character depend, almost as much as upon the course of study prescribed by the usages of our institutions. Not unfrequently, indeed, a direc- tion is given to his thoughts and associations, and a complexion fixed upon his mind, by the influence of these leisure hours, which mark them as the very busiest of his life, and most fraught with good or evil. In these hours, tastes are often formed and passions nourished, associations with books and with other minds established, which leave an indelible impress upon his own. Indeed, the very freedom with which the mind acts, when thus released from restraint and submitted to its own direction, renders its action pe- culiarly characteristic. MISCELLANEOUS READING. 281 Most of their leisure time is doubtless employed, by industrious and well principled young men, in reading. Of such time the persons under the care of educa- tion societies may be supposed to have more than the usual amount. They are, as a body, somewhat older than their fellow-students; they come, of course, from families of small means, and go to study later in life than the sons of the rich. Their minds are conse- quently more mature; their physical constitutions more fully developed. They are, on these accounts, capable of greater exertion, of more intense and con- tinued application. They may, also, be presumed to be more sensible than others of the value of their opportunities and advantages, more economical of time, more prudent of health, more constant to their purpose. To a man of the average age of the bene- ficiaries of such societies, with good health and good habits of study, six hours are sufficient for the daily tasks of his class. In a course of six or seven years, therefore, it is obvious, that, making due allow- ance for exercise and sleep, for Society and amuse- ment, opportunity must be found for a great amount of intellectual labor and useful acquisition, beyond the ordinary course of academical study. In such a per riod, one of the beneficiaries, beginning right and husbanding his advantages, would be able to acquaint himself with much of the best portions of English literature, and to lay the foundation, at least, of in- telligence and taste in the arts which adorn the 36 282 MISCELLANEOUS READING. civilization of our times and commemorate the genius of antiquity. It seems to be taken for granted by the conductors of our literary institutions, that the student will be able, in addition to his recitations, to read as much as will be useful to him; and, whether wisely or not, they have, with one consent, left him in this impor- tant part of education almost entirely to himself. Now, whatever reasons there may be for superin- tending the reading of any class of young men, they apply with peculiar force to the beneficiaries of such societies. For the most part, they are not accus- tomed to read. Their early life has been one of labor. Neither their own families nor their associates have generally been readers. Books have not been con- stantly soliciting their eye in the library or the parlour. To conversation upon books their ears have not been used. When the change took place in their religious character, or the thought of an education first entered their minds, they went at once upon the studies preparatory to college. At this period, of course, their habits of reading are all to be formed. In this respect, they are under great disadvantages, in com- parison with their more favored associates in study. Many of these have already run over ancient and English history, have read the British essayists, the more popular poets and fictitious writers, and this under the eye of intelligent parents or older brothers and sisters; they have, consequently, a familiarity with good style, a fund of ideas and general notions of MISCELLANEOUS READING. 283 books, which give them a great superiority in discourse and composition, and will be of material use to them in their future reading. Nor does this class of young men deserve peculiar attention for the sake of their own improvement merely. Their natural influence in the institutions to which they belong is of the highest consequence. Their age and respectability of character, connected with good sense and taste in the direction of their literary pursuits, and with whatever is scholarlike in their academical habits, cannot but have the most salutary effect on the general tone of literary charac- ter and the spirit of literary enterprise at our semina- ries of learning. One leading mind, well directed and well principled, prompt, sound, determined, full of generous enthusiasm, is worth more to a class than can be easily conceived. None but those who watch the mutual action of minds in literary institutions can appreciate such an influence. The remarks, therefore, which we are about to make on the subject already suggested, though appli- cable to others, are deemed of especial importance in reference to the beneficiaries of education societies. These remarks are thought to be the less unsuitable to the gentlemen who are connected with these socie- ties, as they have a constant intercourse with the subjects of our charity, from the very beginning of their course, and are most likely, of all classes of the community, to be listened to with respect by them. To his instructer and his minister, and, next after 284. MISCELLANEOUS READING. them, to the intelligent and leading members of the churches, the pious young man naturally looks for advice. And the counsel they give is essentially con- nected with the development of his character, and his usefulness through life. Our views upon this subject will be best expressed in the form of distinct principles, to be adopted by the student for the regulation of his miscellaneous reading. The first of these principles which we shall men- tion is, that such reading should never be a primary object in education. The course of academical study has not been acci- dentally adopted, and should not be hastily abandoned. It is no good sign to be skeptical in respect to the judgment of eminent men and successive ages. True greatness respects that which is great; it inclines rather to credulity than distrust. No mind of solid excellence is known to regret its early discipline in the exact sciences and the principles of language. On the contrary, many such minds are found review- ing their youthful studies with more than youthful ardor, stealing an hour from the daily labors of pro- fessional or public life to retrace the manly reasonings of Euclid, and analyze again the felicitous expression of Horace. - Young men, however, do not reflect on the con- nection between exactness and extent of knowledge. They are not aware of the microscopic power of thought. They do not consider that minuteness of MISCELLANEOUS READING. 285 attention is really, in some respects, equivalent to extent of view; that the world may be studied in the turf under our foot. And they are apt to be impatient of severe application to elementary princi- ples. They do not at once perceive their bearing or importance. Of natural science, of history, of poetry, the immediate practical relations are more obvious. Their principal mistake, after all, however, consists not so much in the preference of wrong studies as in their conception of study itself. They think of pa- tient intellectual effort in connection with abstract science and musty philology alone. Laborious and painful investigation, minute accuracy of distinction, severe reasoning, have, in their view, nothing to do with rhetoric and criticism, or with history and fiction. These appear to them to be amusements only. And this, in fact, is, in a majority of instances, the secret of the taste, as it is called, for these popular branches of literature. No pains should be spared to correct such ideas in young men, and to assure them that substantially the same mental traits, the same acute- ness, the same closeness of reasoning, the same pa- tience of attention, the same continuity of laborious thought, which are required for the processes of math- ematical demonstration and philological analysis, are necessary, also, in the proper study of history, oratory, and poetry. Indeed, the moment we go beneath the very surface of these departments of study, the ques- tions which arise are often so profound and so deli- cate, they involve so many circumstances and so 286 MISCELLANEOUS READING. many ill-defined principles, that a really good judge of eloquence or poetry, or a sound reasoner in matters of history, is a rarer character than the profound mathematician. Let not young men, then, be en- couraged to hope that the superficial attainments which serve to grace a college theme, or sparkle in so- called literary conversation, will answer the demands of real life. In the trials of strength to which an arduous profession will call them, other resources are required. Learning may instruct, taste may adorn, fancy may amuse; but when great questions are to be discussed, when important subjects are to be weighed, when minds originally strong and perfectly trained are to be encountered in the transaction of public business or the conflicts of opinion, then higher pow- ers must be put in requisition, and mightier energies awakened. For these manly duties manly exercises alone can fit us. That the principle just laid down may not be misapplied, we remark, in the second place, that the student should be encouraged to read, - to read much. - The prescribed course of study may be primary, without being exclusive. Whilst the power of thought is developing, the mind requires something to think of; it should be supplied with abundant materials. The facts and principles connected with the subjects upon which it is disciplined are, of course, frequently of the highest utility and interest; but they are con- fined to a few classes of subjects, and those, for the MISCELLANEOUS READING. 287 most part, considered only in particular points of view. The field of study should be widened; the facts of history and the creations of genius, the phenomena of nature and society, and the thoughts of eminent men in different departments of literature, are necessary to the full expansion and liberal culture of the mind. There is not much danger of overburdening it, so long as it is kept nerved for strong exertion. Like the body, it will digest almost any thing, and any quantity too, so long as it is in vigorous action. Wrong ideas are sometimes entertained of its creative power; the true maxim in relation to it is, “Ea: nihilo nihil.” Its fine tissues of thought are, indeed, spun out, like the spider's web, from its own bowels; but the spider can only spin the same thread over again, without a new supply of material; and the mind, if not constantly furnished with matter for new forms of thought, does but repeat itself. The effect, in men- tal exertion, is not always equal to the apparent cause. The man is sometimes excited to a degree that is absolutely painful; the nerves are strung to intensity; the sweat stands in big drops on the brow ; and noth- ing is produced. A millstone will go without any thing in the hopper, —and grow the hotter, and smoke the more, for that very reason. In a course of academical study, there are two con- sequences of neglecting to read which are particularly injurious. One of these is, that the mind acquires a habit of thinking only in leading-strings, –of following where it is directed,—a servile habit. It learns to 288 MISCELLANEOUS READING. think too much in one train, and acquires but little confidence in itself. The other danger is that of a sluggish, dreamy mode of thinking. As, in regard to money, men generally spend all they get; so, in regard to time, they rarely find too much for their purposes. What an hour would suffice for, if but an hour could be had, is spread out over a day, because we have a day to spread it over. The industrious student, who confines himself to a task for which six hours only are necessary, easily occupies ten in it; and not only loses four hours, but contracts a habit of slow, heavy, sleepy thought, a habit of poring over a subject with asinine patience, from eve to morn, from morn to dewy eve. Such minds never flash and fuse as they pass along. They have not the character adapted to our times. The world does not wait for them. Encourage young men, therefore, to fill up their time, to crowd life full of interesting subjects, that shall make an hour to look precious, and the loss of a day to be felt as a calamity. Say to them, Read, - read almost any thing; but read. Any thing, not absolutely corrupt, is better than reverie, -better than entire stagnation of mind. Utter cessation of ideas, indeed, never takes place. When books do not sup- ply materials to youthful thought, they will be fur- nished from other and more degrading sources; when the divinity in man slumbers, the animal riots. The man that reads not is necessarily vulgar. His thoughts and associations become gross. Intellectual, spiritual life is not spontaneous; it is the fruit of careful and patient culture on an ungenial soil. MISCELLANEOUS READING. 289 From these remarks it is not to be inferred that the choice of books is of small consequence, and I there- fore remark, in the third place, that too much care can hardly be taken to confine the student, as much as possible, to original and well principled authors. The nature of the case will not allow that this should be always done. Information must often be sought in writers whose philosophy we cannot approve, and whose talents we cannot respect. Errors must be examined, before they can be refuted ; and faults must be seen, in order to be avoided. When room for election is left, original authors will in general be found most satisfactory in all respects. Even when making no pretensions to novelty, they are most worthy of confidence, and most salutary as models of thought and composition. There is in them a compass of view, a depth and justness of reflection, a temperance and a strength of thought, not found in ordinary minds. A philosophy, a respect for general principles, will be found to pervade them, which redeem a thousand minute blemishes. They not only teach us what to think, but how to think. One is surprised to find how little the herd of common writers add to his knowledge, after he has well stud- ied one sterling author on the same subject; and still more surprised to find how little such a one appears to say, in comparison with what he helps us to see might be said, -how much he suggests more than he eapresses, –how much he makes us think, without seeming to think for us. 37 290 MISCELLANEOUS READING. As to moral principles, let a young man make no compromise ; let him have no charity here. Errors of the head and acts of passion may be pardoned; but the offence of a mind capable of instructing mankind, and actually employed in assailing or undermining the moral habits or institutions of society, should have no forgiveness. With authors of unchristian and immoral character it is not good, it is not safe, to hold com- munion. What though their sophistry be shallow, and their errors manifest, their influence is scarcely the less permicious. The moral sensibilities are too delicate for the contact of pollution. It is the famil- iarity of the mind with false views and vulgar scenes, that chiefly taints and corrupts it. It is not so much deluded as degraded. The presence of false ideas and foul pictures of life of necessity excludes better and nobler ones; and the standard itself of purity falls as the heart grows worse. The unhappy subject of this moral degradation loses at once the sense of descent and his motives to return, and goes down with a constantly accelerated rapidity to the abyss of guilt. Young men should be well aware of the dan- ger of habitual intercourse with authors of a mean ambition, or a gross imagination, or impure feelings. There is rarely any thing wholly just in argument, or faultless in taste, to be found in them as an atone- ment for their more unpardonable defects. The truly great men are apt to be good men. Again; the student should read with reference, if possible, to some definite end. His acquisitions are MISCELLANEOUS READING. 291 always most permanent and most useful, when made in reference to particular objects. He then sees the bearing of things; and his ideas are connected by some common principle. The mind must have been already trained and disciplined which is able to lay up every valuable thought, as it occurs in miscella- neous reading, and to recall it in its true connec- tions. The youthful reader cannot do it. To read to most advantage, he will do well to select par- ticular passages of history, or particular subjects in literature or morals to be investigated, and to pursue them as far as he has opportunity. If he begin right, one author will suggest another, new interest will be created as he proceeds, new relations of the sub- ject will present themselves, new principles will be developed, until, to his surprise, he finds a little library collected around him, and begins to feel an acquaint- ance with a whole class of authors, of whom before he had but indistinct, if any, ideas. For example, he proposes to investigate a period of English history, -the Rebellion, perhaps. He begins with one of the general historians,—with Hume, an apologist for prerogative in politics, and a jacobin in religion. From Hume he goes to Lingard, a mon- archist and a Catholic, but a student; from Lingard to Clarendon, a partisan of the king and a churchman, but an honest man; from Clarendon to Neal, a Pu- ritan and a republican. In Burnet's Own Time, Hutchinson’s Memoirs, and the Lives of Charles, of Cromwell, of Usher, Baxter, Taylor, and Milton, 292 MISCELLANEOUS READING. he seeks a more minute account of personal incidents and private character; and in the works of some of these great men he studies the literary character and spirit of the time. Rapin and various historical col- lections furnish many of the original documents, and seem to carry him back to the very period of which he reads. Such a course is not, indeed, gone over in a day, but it is accomplished, by an industrious man, in no very long time. After the principal authors are carefully read, the rest are soon examined. Such a course, once thoroughly pursued, will be found to have enriched the mind of the student with facts of great interest to the lover of civil and religious liberty; facts that illustrate the Constitution of England, and the origin of our own free institutions. It will have led him to some definite ideas of the nature of gov- ernment, of the right and hazards of revolution, of the mutual action of civil and religious parties, and of the genius and the moral and social habits of the land of our fathers, in one of the most active and instructive periods of her history. It will prepare him to read more profitably the records of preceding reigns, and to understand the principles on which the subsequent prosperity and glory of the country are founded. In this way history is not merely read, but studied. Not only is information acquired, but, what is yet more useful, a habit of investigating, of com- paring, of judging, is cultivated. The student learns to appreciate authorities; to make allowances for the personal and party feelings of authors; to take into MISCELLANEOUS READING. 293 account the points of view from which different indi- viduals look at the same things, and the objects for which they write. He learns where and how to find things for which he has occasion ; to see what is, and what is not, material to a question; to extricate him- self from the embarrassment of minute difficulties, and to fasten on the great decisive features of a CaSC. By such investigations a young man obtains the rare satisfaction of feeling, that, with all his ignorance and indistinctness of views, there are some things which he knows. It is above all price to a youthful mind to enjoy the consciousness of clear and exact intelligence. To be always, and on all subjects, in a fog, or under a cloud, seeing men only as trees walking, is inconsist- ent with mental independence and a proper self-con- fidence. Precision, as well as extent of knowledge, is characteristic of eminent men. Perhaps we may be permitted to suggest, in this connection, that, of all professions, that of a clergyman is the least favorable to the promotion of a style of close thinking and se- were reasoning. He is in too quiet possession of the field for the cultivation of caution in taking his posi- tions; too secure from opposition to be very solicitous about the temper or the edge of his blade. And what is still less favorable to the perfection of his skill in argument, he rarely or never ascertains whether in particular efforts he succeeds or fails. The case at the bar or in the Senate is brought to an immediate issue. The audience of a preacher listen with attention, and - 294, MISCELLANEOUS READING. go away, it may be, impressed with his reasoning, but wait, with one consent, for a more convenient season to make up their minds. To persons intended for the pulpit, therefore, nothing in education which tends to give exactness to their knowledge, or precision to their reasoning, can be useless or uninteresting. Essentially the same course may be adopted on phi- losophical or literary subjects, such as the theory of taste or of moral sentiments, the authenticity of Ho- mer or of Ossian, the learning of Shakspeare, the origin of language, – any thing which affords scope for inquiry, and in the progress of inquiry leads to the weighing of testimony, the comparison of facts, and the analysis of literary productions, -anything which furnishes occasion to consult the works of eminent writers, and to subject their contents to careful and continued study. Suppose the theory of taste to be chosen for ex- amination. The first work to which the student would naturally be directed is the very beautiful and delightful essay by Mr. Alison, a remarkable specimen of the application of inductive reasoning to a subject which had before been loosely and unsatisfactorily treated. The admirable dissertation by Mr. Jeffreys, in the Supplement to the British Encyclopædia, will be found to exhibit the same theory, unembarrassed by the multitude of examples and illustrations which fill Mr. Alison's essay, and supported by a variety of additional considerations. Mr. Stewart's three essays on beauty, sublimity, and taste, in his volume of Phi- MISCELLANEOUS READING. 295 losophical Essays, in some degree modify the theory adopted by Alison, and trace, in a manner peculiar to that writer, and in the finest style of verbal criticism, the origin and successive applications of the terms, taste, beauty, and sublimity. A review of these es- says in the Edinburgh Review deduces from the theory of association the proper doctrine of a standard of taste; and a review of Alison, in the Christian Observer, applies this theory in a striking manner to the subject of moral culture. In Dr. Brown's Lec- tures, the theory is still further modified; and in Mackenzie on Taste, and Richard Payne Knight’s Analytical Inquiry into the Principles of Taste, it is altogether denied, and ingeniously controverted. In Burke, Blair, and Addison, would be found the best specimens of the style in which the subject had been discussed before Mr. Alison applied to it the singular ingenuity and copiousness of illustration which distin- guish his essay. By such an investigation, it is plain, the student would be carried through a considerable range of au- thors, remarkable alike for clear reasoning and beauti- ful diction ; a foundation would be laid for a system of philosophical criticism; habits of self-observation and reflection formed; and a species of judgment cul- tivated very analogous to that required in practical life, -judgment upon facts often indistinctly appre- hended, and connected with principles more or less indefinite, -judgment depending frequently on a great variety of considerations and the utmost nicety of dis- 296 MISCELLANEOUS READING. tinction, and relating to subjects upon which words are used with little precision, and opinions pronounced with singular confidence and equal folly. Or suppose the point to be investigated is the au- thenticity of Ossian. In the prefaces to the different editions of this poem, in Laing's History of Scot- land, Blair's Dissertation, the Report of the Com- mittee of the Highland Society, Dr. Johnson's Tour to the Hebrides, Montgomery's Lectures on Gen- eral Literature, and the articles which occur in the various periodicals, the student finds a mass of con- flicting evidence, which he is to weigh and balance; principles of composition, which he must consider and follow out into their minute application to works of genius; peculiarities of national manners and charac- ter, and of different periods in the same country, which he must observe and compare. The work itself, too, whose claims to authenticity he undertakes to settle, must be read and re-read; the genuine marks of antiquity and originality carefully noted, whether in the thought, the imagery, or the expression, in al- lusions to fact and philosophy, or in the spirit of the composition. Such a process, diligently pursued in reference to a single production, could hardly fail to instruct the stu- dent on a variety of subjects intimately connected with the cultivation of literary taste, and to cherish habits of inquiry and discrimination, of comparison and analysis, in the highest degree important to useful reading. The claim of Ossian to be considered an MISCELLANEOUS READING. 297 original Scottish poem of the fourth century, and not a splendid and successful imposture of the eighteenth, must be supported or disproved, not merely by refer- ence to historical documents and tradition, but by a careful comparison of the state of manners they de- scribe with the wild and barbarous customs and hab- its of the age to which they are assigned; by a mi- nute attention to the allusions they contain to civil events and religious institutions; by observing the marks they bear of rudeness or refinement, of native original thought or of imitation, in the genius by which they were produced; by nicely distinguishing those delicate and impalpable traits of composition, which it is so difficult to define, and yet so necessary to per- ceive, in order to appreciate the higher beauties in every department of art; and, finally, by considering the probability of such a work having been transmit- ted, unwritten, through fourteen centuries, and the motives which may have actuated the professed trans- lator. Nor is it one of the least of the advantages of such an investigation, that it exhibits a striking in- stance of the greatest variety of literary judgment, and of the strange contradictions of opinion among intelligent men upon matters with which they are equally conversant, — thus illustrating the importance of understanding the character and mental habits, the education and national or personal partialities, of a critic, before we adopt his decisions. The only other point on which I would remark has been already alluded to, and is introduced again 38 298 MISCELLANEOUS READING. because of its peculiar and prečminent importance. I refer to the habitual reading of a class of books whose direct object is to nourish our moral sentiments, and diffuse a Christian spirit over all our mental char- acter. Fortunately, the language is full of such works; the only subject of concern is, that the novelties of the press, the mass of exciting periodical literature which invites attention everywhere, may withdraw us too much from works less popular in their character, less stimulating in their style, and less constantly urged upon the notice of the student. But let him not fall into the snare here spread for him. Let him keep his heart with all diligence, knowing that out of it are the issues of life. Let some one of the great masters of moral and Christian wisdom be ever on his table; and when he has first of all repaired every day to the fountains of devotion and divine benevolence in God’s own word, let him commune a little with some kindred spirit of the holy dead, some Baxter, or Flavel, or Howe, or Cecil, or Thomas à Kempis, nor scorn to be instructed and edified in his ripened youth or age by the monitors of his childhood, by Watts, or Mason, or Bunyan. Who of us does not know how maturally and easily the heart contracts again, the moment some expanding thought has been suffered to escape from it f Who does not feel how necessary it is to the life and purity of his spirit, that he never lose sight of the great practical objects of religious faith? Who is not sensible how dangerous it is to part, for a day even, from the goodly company of the prophets, from the MISCELLANEOUS READING. 299 fellowship of spiritual minds P. Next to communion with God, let a constant intercourse with the standard books of Christian ethics and experimental piety be inculcated upon young men preparing for the min- istry. WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT LYME, SEPTEMBER 7, 1839. AMoNG the qualifications of a Christian minister, mention is made of wisdom. A degree of prominence is given to this trait of character by the remarkable counsel of our Saviour to the apostles, “Be ye wise as serpents.” That the nature of the quality might not be mistaken, he adds the caution, that they be “harmless as doves.” St. Paul recognizes the same trait and the same limitation of it in his frequent con- trast of “the wisdom of this world’’ with “the wis- dom that is from above,” – “the wisdom of men º' with “ the wisdom of God.” He also in an eminent degree illustrated this feature of ministerial excellence by his own example. He became all things to all men, without violating his consistency; and caught them with guile, without making gain of them. This wisdom is the combination of different traits, and more easily described by its effects than analyzed into its elements. It seems to involve sagacity, pru- dence, common sense, and a knowledge of the world. It supposes integrity of principle, benevolence, and WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. 301 self-control. And, in point of fact, as it must natural- ly be from its constituent principles, it is, in its higher degrees, a rare endowment. Learning, the choicest and deepest, does not imply it ; zeal, the purest and warmest, does not secure it. There may be strong intellect and ardent love without it. It is not showy in its exhibitions. It has not the prominence of a bold individual attribute, like imagination or reason. It is rather a happy temperament of all the powers, a beautiful proportion among the different features of the character, an invisible spirit of propriety diffused throughout the entire constitution and action of the man. Washington had it in an eminent degree in civil and military life. No man felt able to tell, in a word, wherein his great strength lay, and yet every man saw and venerated it. Our blessed Saviour was the perfect model of it. He needed not that any should testify of man, for he knew what is in man. He could speak as never man spake. He was in the world, and yet above it; among men, at their feasts and marriages; in the tumultuous assembly, insulted by the taunts and goaded by the violence of a mob; and yet he was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners. He was Wisdom. Happy the man who has learned in this school The nature and value of this qualification will be more clearly seen by considering some of the occa- sions on which it is needed. And, first, it is necessary in the study and applica- tion of theological truth. In every profession, theo- 302 WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. retic truth admits of infinite variety of exhibition and application. The great principles of government and political economy are, in themselves, as permanent as the truths of mathematics; the essential principles of medicine are, for the most part, settled and univer- sal; the law of the land is fixed by statute, or by general consent. In all these departments a studious man soon acquires a tolerable accuracy and compass of theoretic knowledge ; and in all of them may still, with the greatest learning, be, to every practical pur- pose, a madman or a fool. There is, besides and be- yond all theory, a certain tact, a certain judgment, a quick and nice perception of fitness, in a word, a prac- tical wisdom, without which the strongest minds are weak and the best principles often lead to absurdity and defeat. There is, in reality, no such thing as a general principle. All reality is particular. General principles are mere abstractions. In nature and in life we find these always modified by circumstances. The mechanical powers are never applied without being affected by friction, changes of temperature, and other accidental causes, which modify their operation and affect their result. A skilful mechanic makes the necessary allowance, and, by means of a practical wisdom acquired only by observation and experience, estimates with surprising exactness the kind and de- gree of modification to which the principles of his art are subject. This modification becomes more impor- tant as the circumstances become complicated ; and is most of all important in reference to intelligent beings, WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. 303 whose ever-varying feelings, condition, and volitions present a striking contrast to the simple and uniform character of inanimate matter. A man who should regard nothing but his general truths, in the practice of the manual arts, would expose himself to failure and ridicule. He who should apply the lessons of history, the doctrines of medicine, or the laws of the land, with the same disregard of the varieties of con- dition, time, and character, among men, would be just- ly deemed a visionary, and properly held responsible for his folly and presumption. The Bible is a book of faultless principles. To discover and systematize these revealed truths, in their simplicity and beauty, requires no ordinary study and discernment. To apply them to the changeful forms of society, to make allowance for new varieties of character and new circumstances, without sacrificing or marring the principles themselves, demands even higher and rarer qualities. Because Paul directs Tim- othy to bring with him the cloak which he had left at Troas, with the books and the parchments, no one would think of urging the same duty on the body of Christians in all ages. And because the same apostle advised the primitive preachers not to marry, we do not all hold the unlawfulness of marriage among the clergy. In such plain cases, the consequence of apply- ing the precept beyond the circumstances to which it was originally adapted renders any such application a gross absurdity. But it is possible one might see such an absurdity, and yet not discover that a similar liberal 304 WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. interpretation may with equal propriety be given to the prohibition against going to law before unbelievers, to community of goods, to unquestioning subjection to government, to holding property in men, to the com- mand to give to him that asketh, and to many similar usages and precepts of apostolic authority. To dis- tinguish the spirit, the essentials, of Christianity from what is local or temporary and incidental in it, and to give its doctrines the form and complexion which adapt them to particular times and circumstances, and yet to preserve untarnished and unmixed the vital truths of revelation, requires a happy mental constitu- tion, too rare not to attract attention, and too impor- tant not to command respect. A pure Christianity, at once glowing with the hues of original thought and redolent with the odors of a fresh-blown piety, - a system of doctrines, and a mode of preaching, true to inspiration, and yet moulded to the demands of the times and fitted to the great ends of the gospel,- how seldom has God given to this world the enviable treasure in an earthen vessel, since the perfect Man was heard in Judea There are men of a single principle, some ism or other, to which every thing else pays obeisance ; they preach it; they pray according to it; they talk of it when they rise up and when they sit down ; they are, in short, the very incarnation of it. To them nothing is good, in faith or practice, in which this prin- ciple is not the main element; and nothing too wrong to be sanctified by it. Whether it be anti-slavery, or WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. 305 anti-abolition, anti-masonry, or moral reform, it is with them first and last and midst and without end. If it take the form of a favorite doctrine, as of the sinner's ability or inability, of foreordination or free- will, of submission, or perfection, it seems to the dis- eased vision of its victim to be the one thing revealed, written all over the volume of divine truth, within and without. If it be a principle of interpretation, that of the analogy of faith, for example, or of accom- modation, or the double sense, it is the golden key that unlocks all the mysteries of Scripture. If a phi- losophical theory, it explains all and harmonizes all; it resolves every thing, and every thing is resolved into it. Whether it take the name of Scottish or German, sensual or transcendental, it is equally positive of being the philosophy of philosophies, and having the exclu- sive right to interpret the Scriptures in its own way. There are, also, theoretical preachers, and practical preachers, – the former always explaining difficulties, and always finding difficulties to explain ; the latter earnestly and incessantly urging men to duty, and mourning and wondering that men think so little of their exhortations. There are men passionately at- tached to old things, and men equally fond of new things. In the former, the divines of the seventeenth century speak, though dead; in the latter, the mode of argument and expression, which some fortunate en- thusiast of the warm-tempered West has transferred from the forum to the pulpit, makes us almost to doubt whether we are, in reality, in the temple of the Lord * 39 306 WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. or the market-place. The extremes of delicacy and of vulgarity may find their way into the language of the sanctuary ; a delicacy so extremely fastidious, that the most common names of things made prominent in the Bible are rejected as unfit for the public ear; a vulgarity which is not offended by the grossest illus- trations, the coarsest humor, and the use of colloquial contractions and inaccuracies of language. How much the candidate for the sacred order needs that best and rare intellectual endowment, a practical wisdom, which, as it were, instinctively discerns the true, the pertinent, the proper, and enables a man to maintain the happy medium between extremes, and to command the respect of all by falling into the ex- travagances of none ! The need of such wisdom is seen, secondly, in the pastoral office. In pastoral life extremely delicate questions arise. The limits of pastoral authority are ill defined, the duties and responsibilities of church-members far from being settled, and the whole course of ecclesiastical discipline full of uncertainty and perplexity. Matters of difference between the individual members of a church, between different churches, or between a church and its pastor, often involve points of much difficulty and delicacy, and demand the exercise of the nicest discrimination and the utmost sagacity and good judgment in adjusting them. Our form of church government leaves great responsibility to rest on the pastor, and renders a well balanced mind, an eminent- WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. 307 ly wise man, an invaluable treasure, not only to his own people, but to the whole circle of churches with which they are on terms of Christian intercourse. In the ordinary intercourse of a minister with his people there is room for the exercise of all the wisdom we are capable of attaining. Discretion out of the pulpit gives authority to the pulpit itself. A skilful husbanding of the resources of the pastor secures a respectful audience to the preacher. An obstinate adherence to a favorite measure, and a fickle and fluc- tuating course, may equally abridge the influence of a minister. There are particular crises, in the history of communities, which cannot safely be overlooked or disregarded. There is a time to sow and a time to reap; a time to take a stand on some great truth or principle of duty with a martyr's fortitude, and a time to flee from one city to another. Happy, happy the man to whom God giveth wisdom to discern the signs of the time, and to adapt himself to the exigencies of the Divine Providence The need of wisdom is, also, obvious in the rela- tions of the minister as a man. It is not possible to separate the professional from the private character, — the pastor and the preacher from the citizen, the neighbour, the husband, and the parent; indeed, the eloquence, the influence, the use- fulness of a minister depend essentially on his personal character. It is not simply, nor mainly, what a man utters in the desk, or does in his profession out of it, that determines the impression he makes. The life 308 WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. of the man, known and read of all men, insensibly infuses its influence into his speech and his measures. The very same words are the same no longer, when they drop from other lips; and the identical policy, which, adopted by one man, is coldly approved and reluctantly supported, meets the wishes and engages the enthusiasm of all, if proposed by another. Nor is it altogether a difference of direct personal influence; the policy and the speech of men of opposite charac- ters, however alike in form and every definable feature, are nevertheless as different as the Zephyr that floats to us over the stagnant marsh from the Zephyr that is wafted across a garden of spices. It is a Zephyr still, and a Zephyr only, - a soft breath of air; but in the one case we involuntarily turn away our faces; in the other, it is luxury to breathe. The differences of private character which we have now in view are such only as result from different de- grees, not of moral excellence, but of wisdom and discretion. A man may do a real kindness with true good-will, but with so bad a grace, that he gets no credit for it. He may reprove a fault with a gentle spirit, but a most ungracious tone. One may shake hands with his neighbour in a manner that seems to wish him farther off. Men, of whom such are speci- mens, complain of being perpetually misapprehended; and with great reason, for they are continually misrep- resenting themselves. We may be over-precise, also, or loose, in pecuniary matters and in manners, – in our style of living and in dress. An intelligent peo- f WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. 309 ple choose to see the man whom they have selected for a spiritual teacher neither vain of idle distinctions, nor careless of the proprieties and dignity which befit a cultivated mind and an honorable profession. A fop and a sloven are equally condemned. He who hag- gles with market-men and stage-proprietors, and he who cannot safely be trusted with his own money or his own horse, are alike subject to reproach. In all these views, the character of a minister of the gospel is hard to maintain. He is a wise man who does not materially err. These remarks are made, of course, with reference to the young men who are preparing for the sacred office; and in the hope that they may serve to remind the fathers and brethren already in the profession of the service they may render to the cause of truth by inculcating the cultivation of clerical wisdom on their young friends and pupils. One of the principal means of cultivating the wis- dom we have spoken of is keeping it in the student’s eye as a qualification to be aimed at. The very idea of the character itself, steadily held in mind, directs attention to the exhibitions of it in others, and to the occasions which call for it, and thus unconsciously leads to those trains of thought and habits of action which generate and develope it. One of the great points in education is to secure attention to things always near us, and yet generally overlooked. It is especially so in reference to those influences which, 310 WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. though slight and insensible, are rendered important by their constancy. Of this kind are the influences which gradually form the manners and the spirit of a man in the society of his fellow-men, and amid the scenes of nature. Of the same sort, in a great de- gree, are the sources of that peculiar trait of charac- ter of which we are speaking. Another means of improvement in this respect is the careful observation of our own minds. It is an evil of the present state of society, that a man’s own feelings and judgment are last and least consulted by himself. The individual is lost or trodden down in the multitude. Yet one of the best guides of the theologian, or the pastor, or the man, is the oracle in his own bosom. Let the divine ask himself what his own intellect approves, what his own heart feels, what his own soul needs; and he may, for the most part, presume that just that will commend itself to every intellect, touch every heart, and satisfy every soul. At any rate, if in such a man’s theology, or manners, or measures there should be striking peculiarities, they will be his own, full of an original spirit, and not ne- cessarily oddities or extravagances. But, doubtless, the best aid is furnished by the study of the Scriptures. There is no circumstance more characteristic of the Bible than its peculiar modes of exhibiting truth, and the models it contains of moral and professional wisdom. To illustrate the peculiarity of Scripture eloquence would require a great deal of time, and would, after WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. 311 all, be but imperfectly done by the best criticism. It can be well understood only by taking the sacred vol- ume itself into the closet. We discover in it no traces of art. We hear no note of preparation for effect. We seem at ease in the company of men nowise ex- traordinary in most respects, and acting their parts in common scenes, – men subject to like passions with us, – scenes very like our own homes. And the truths with which we are conversant here, when we gather them up from this and that portion of the record, and place them side by side in systematic order, seem just like other bodies of divinity. Still, as we give ourselves up to the guidance of the inspired writers, and follow somewhat minutely and carefully the train of events, the development of char- acter, the interviews of men with one another and with God, which make up these wonderful books, how changed all things appear! What strange im- pressions are made ; what mysterious objects pass be- fore us and stand around us ! What a life we are living, what an end we are approaching, what a world we dwell in, what scenes await us! We feel as if we were penetrated by the eye of God, and surrounded by his presence. We are filled with a mingled feeling of abasement and exaltation; compelled to look on ourselves as at once the worst and the most privileged of beings, – too mean and too guilty to deserve any thing, and yet solicited to accept of all things, – cap- tives, redeemed ; enemies, reconciled. We seem to ourselves to be living in vain, with every thing to do; 312 WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. to be striving for nothing, with every thing to gain. And, if the heart is yet sensitive, in spite of our pride, we weep tears of regret at the ignoble life we lead, and give ourselves with earnestness to the work of our own salvation, and the promotion of the glory of God. Such impressions and such resolutions we cannot avoid, but by shutting up the Book of Life, and laying it away out of our sight. A wicked man dreads to be alone with it. We cannot too much study a book of this spirit, nor fail to catch something of its style of elo- quence by habituating ourselves to feel its influence on our own hearts. The diligent reader of the Sacred Scriptures, and the careful student of his own heart, will soon find that to these sources he owes more of whatever true wisdom he may attain than to all the schools. The nearest approach to this style of teaching which the history of heathen eloquence, and, perhaps, of uninspired eloquence in any state of society, affords, is exhibited in the public instructions of Socrates. In Plato's Banquet, Alcibiades is made to say, -“When I heard Pericles, or any other great orator, I was enter- tained and delighted, and I felt that they had spoken well. But no mortal speech has ever excited in my mind such emotions as are kindled by this magician. Whenever I hear him, I am, as it were, charmed and fettered. My heart leaps like an inspired Corybant. My inmost soul is stung by his words as by the bite of a serpent; it is indignant at its own rude and igno- ble character. I often weep tears of regret, and think WISDOM IN CLERGYMEN. 313 how vain and inglorious is the life I lead. Nor am I the only one that weeps like a child and despairs of himself; many others are affected in the same way.” Among Christian writers few possess this peculiar power like Pascal. Who ever sat an hour over the Thoughts, without feeling the consciousness of a new being coming over his soul, - without wondering that he had lived so long, and known so little what it is to live P Socrates acquired his power by abandoning the schools of the Sophists, and following the advice in- scribed over the gate of the temple at Delphi, Tvø6t geovtdv, – Know thyself. Pascal, also, and every truly eloquent minister of Christ, has studied moral wisdom in his own heart, and in the school of the in- spired teachers. 40 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT AS AFFECTED BY MINISTERIAL CHARACTER. ADDRESSED TO THE NEW HAMPSHIRE EDUCATION SOCIETY, AT FRANCESTOWN, AUGUST 24, 1841. THE Christian minister is a public teacher. He has, indeed, other important duties; he leads the de- votions of the assembled church, and is the pastor of the flock. But, according to the prevalent habits of thinking in Protestant Christendom, his characteristic and most important office is that of a preacher. The other parts of public worship are, among us, made subordinate to the sermon; so much so, that it may be doubted, whether instruction is not sometimes made to appear an end in itself, rather than a means of something higher and better than all knowledge, a devout and heavenly spirit. However this may be, there is no doubt that preach- ing is the great institution of the gospel, and is doing more to promote the well-being of society, and the honor of God upon earth, than all other means of instruction. It is the aliment and nurse of piety; it baptizes science; it hallows the relations and chari- ties of life; it throws a religious light over the gloomy passages of our earthly experience ; and, from the * THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. 315 beginning to the end of our mortal career, connects us, in great and minute events, in joy and grief, in success and disappointment, with the eternal, un- changeable, and spiritual world. To raise up men for the pulpit is, therefore, a high and worthy object. To make the most of all the talent which the church is training for this honored and loved profession is a service not easily overrated, both to the objects of our care and to the world. If education in general is entitled to prečminence above all other departments of human industry, because it is industry expended upon imperishable material, and because the impressions which it leaves will outlast all earthly structures and all material things; what can be so grateful in its exercise as the labor immediately employed in educating men for their appropriate and ultimate destiny, in their future permanent abode 2 What can be so glorious in its results as that intel- lectual and Christian discipline by which genius is directed and inspired for this ennobling and fruitful labor P. If he who causes two spires of grass to grow where but one grew before is a public benefactor, what language will do justice to the enterprise which bestows a sound education on a mind endowed by nature and qualified by grace to win souls to Christ, —to restore to fallen men the righteousness and hap- piness of Eden P There is a connection between the eloquence of the pulpit and certain circumstances of a minister's char- acter and life, not always regarded as having any material influence on his preaching. 316 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT The more obvious, because more important, ele- ments of pulpit eloquence are ably and abundantly treated in works familiar to liberally educated clergy- men. The circumstances we propose now to dwell upon are, from their nature, more rarely considered, at least in the particular relation we have suggested, —their influence upon the eloquence of the pulpit. It is known to every student of language that words have no natural and invariable meaning. They signify what those who use them, tacitly or expressly, consent to understand by them. This general prin- ciple must, however, be received with important qual- ifications. For words, like the ideas they express, are undergoing perpetual changes. Indeed, progress of thought leads, of necessity, to changes of language. Words are the records, the memorials, of our ideas; and answer their purpose only so far as they represent those ideas. Had we, accordingly, a perfect etymol- ogy, or history of words, it would be, at the same time, a history of knowledge. And should language ever become fixed, it will be only when thought has reached the limit of its progress. A perfect and unchanging language supposes absolute and perfect science. There can, therefore, be no precise and in- variable nomenclature in any branch of human study, until that study has attained its end, - the entire comprehension of its objects. The sciences of fact, that is, all the sciences except the pure mathematics, which is altogether hypothetical, reach their object, — are perfected,—when they ascertain the meaning of AS AFFECTED BY MINISTERIAL CHARACTER. 317 their terms. So long as human knowledge – our knowledge of external nature, of ourselves, and of other spiritual beings—is inadequate and fallible, the language in which we discourse of these things is itself, also, and in the same degree, ambiguous and indefinite. The best criterion of the state of any branch of philosophy in a particular age, or among a particular people, is the character of the language of that age or people in reference to that department of their intellectual pursuits. The more cultivated and advanced their science, the more exact and copious is their vocabulary; the more misty and obscure and limited their ideas, the more indistinct and shadowy, and the fewer, are their corresponding terms. But language does not vary in its import simply as knowledge varies. In the same condition of general knowledge, words have not the same significance to all minds. Each hearer puts his own construction on the language uttered in his presence. What the speaker says to me is not what he thinks, but what he makes me to think. He may think one thing, and cause me to think another. If he does this inadvert- ently, it is a violation of rhetoric ; if he does it in- tentionally, it is a violation of the moral law. The influence of a word upon me is simply to awaken the thought which I am accustomed to connect with that word; not, necessarily, the thought which the speaker connects with it; for his idea and mine may be totally different. If words suggested always, and only, the speaker's ideas, I might understand him in Chinese or 3.18 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT Choctaw as well as in English. He must, evidently, use words with which I have connected ideas, or he is a barbarian to me. And he is equally a barbarian to me, if he use words in senses different from those which I attach to them. I can only put my own sense on his language ; that is, it is to me just what my own associations make it. And whatever ideas or trains of ideas his words suggest or give rise to in my mind, these are the import of his language, – these constitute his communications to me, – they are the effect of his address, the result of his eloquence. No matter what I am led to think of by that elo- quence; no matter where my imagination may be made to wander; no matter what feelings may be awakened ; what facts, what prejudices, what fancies may be caused to spring up and diversify the scene of my moral life; it is he that does it all; and he does it on the same principle precisely upon which any language instructs or affects us, that is, by putting our own minds in motion, and rousing our own powers of thought. The office of language is, thus, not so much to pour new treasures of truth into the minds of others, as to stimulate and direct those minds in their own exer- tions to develope the germs already planted in them. From these remarks it is obvious that eloquence is something else than the use of proper, or even expres- sive, language. It consists not wholly in the words uttered; nor even in the occasion, or the man, as he appears before us. These are elements of eloquence; but they are not all the elements of it, in any depart- AS AFFECTED BY MINISTERIAL CHARACTER. 319 ment of public speaking, and, least of all, in the pulpit. Ancient and modern critics have said much of the character of the man as a qualification of the orator, and have defined this character as being not so much what one is in reality as what he is understood to be. It is his reputation, properly, which affects his influ- ence. And character is certainly the best foundation of reputation, but does not always correspond with it. However this may be, in any instance, it can only be what we think of another, not what he is, that deter- mines us to confide or distrust, to approve or condemn. And what is there so unimportant, so trivial, in the character, or relations, or circumstances of an individ- ual, as to have no weight in determining our estimate of the man, and, of course, in a corresponding degree, the eloquence of the orator? Of the considerations which, in this way, modify the eloquence of the pulpit, and which, on that ac- count, deserve the attention of candidates for the Christian ministry and the churches, we propose to mention two or three. The first which occurs to us is the character of the man for general intelligence, and, more particularly, upon the appropriate subjects of the clerical profes- S1011. - It is not difficult, in the present state of all knowl- edge, for a man of tolerable understanding and in- genuity to put together, in a very proper form, entirely just and useful observations upon any of the 320 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT ordinary topics of religious instruction. What with the help of Matthew Henry's Commentary, and Dr. Dwight's or President Edwards's Divinity, and what with a more modern idea or two from the Corner Stone, or the National Preacher, many a respecta- ble sermon has been elaborated with somewhat less of earnest thought than was wont to be deemed necessary by the fathers. Indeed, one must have been very poorly drilled, and meagrely furnished, by a ten years' discipline in the schools, not to be able, at least, to write pretty good divinity in pretty good English, so that the more watchful brethren may occasionally compose themselves to sleep without rea- sonable apprehension that false doctrine will mean- while be inculcated. But, then, how different a thing this is, even though, now and then, the preacher rise above himself, and seem really smart, and pro- ceed in his work secundum artem, laying down his points of doctrine and defending and illustrating them with considerable ability and show of learning, — how different a thing is all this from the air and the effect with which one whom we deem a master of his sub- ject, and of all subjects connected with it, and, what is more, a master of himself, seems, even in his most unlabored efforts, to touch all the springs of thought in us, and wake up the dormant powers! How differ- ent the effect of that which strikes us as the utmost the speaker is capable of doing from that of the easy and apparently unconscious overflowing of a capacious and full mind! How unlike in power over us the " AS AFFECTED BY MINISTERIAL CHARACTER. 321 discourse of which one involuntarily says, “I did not think he could preach so well,” and the discourse of which we as naturally say, “Hear him ; how he always preaches!” In the one case, the man seems to say all he has to say; in the other, what he says has hardly as much effect as what he does not say, what we know he might say. We insensibly identify our own ideas of his powers and resources with his eloquence. And that eloquence really becomes to us significant of the greatness and fulness which we ascribe to the man. Again; it is impossible that most men should be able to verify the more important principles of any science for themselves. In all instruction, from child- hood to old age, we are called upon to exercise con- fidence in the understandings of others, to repose trust in their opinions. This is proverbial of youth; it is as true of manhood. It is necessary to advancement. Others think for us, as we, in our turn, think for others, from the beginning to the end of our progress. Without this mutual faith of mind in mind, there is no such thing as extended and satisfactory knowledge ; no such thing as successful practice in any profession, or pursuit of life. Without it, history commands no confidence; government, no intelligent submission; science, no authority. Without it, every age must travel over, for itself, the old paths, and the experi- ence and study of one generation would be useless to its successors. The operation of this principle in reference to the 41 322 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT pulpit is material and striking. About the Christian teacher are gathered a congregation of every variety of intelligence, and age, and talent, and pursuit. To him they listen on themes of the deepest interest for time and for eternity. To him they look for the interpretation of a religion revealed in ancient and unknown languages. From him they expect the sub- stance of truth on questions of vital importance, and which lie, many of them, beyond the sphere of their studies, and above their capacity. To him they go for spiritual counsel in the trials of the soul, and under the pressure of calamity, and in the prospect of death. To him is specially intrusted the supervision of moral and religious education. In these high trusts and duties, what is a minister of the gospel, whose understanding commands no respect, whose opinions want the dignity which mind confers, and whose attempts at eloquence perpetually remind his audience of imbecility, for which goodness is no substitute, and ignorance, for which grace does not itself atone P. Goodness is, it is true, better than greatness; charity, more precious than gifts. But a sound understanding and a cultivated mind are indis- pensable to the right dividing of the word of truth. Our Burtons and Harrises and Emmonses, who have held towns together through a long ministry, have been workmen that need not to be ashamed. And candidates for the honorable office of a religious teach- er must secure the reputation of superior mind and ample resources of knowledge, or all the shows of - AS AFFECTED BY MINISTERIAL CHARACTER. 323 art, the efforts for effect, in the sacred desk, will soon lose their charm; and people will lend a reluctant ear even to the sublime and delightful messages of salva- tion. But we pass to another topic, the connection of what may be called the proprieties of the ministry with the eloquence of the pulpit. Propriety, as well as intellect, is eloquent. It is not enough to have mind, to be furnished with learn- ing, in order to inspire confidence and command regard. There is a kind of intellect that repels, in- stead of attracting. There is a keenness which men are afraid of; an acumen, a sharpness, from which they shrink back. There is, also, a precise, system- atic habit of mind, and there is a philosophic style of discourse, and there is a peculiar mode of saying and doing things, that kills the life and spirit of truth. And, what is more to be deplored, there is a pro- fessional habit of viewing and treating things sacred, which is so at war with nature and the heart, that it cannot be carried into our ordinary intercourse with the world, and either excludes a man from the sym- pathies of social life, or compels him to present the monstrous spectacle of a two-fold man,— the man of smiles and cheerfulness in real life, and the funereal visage of artificial gravity and awe in the services of religion. Judgment is eloquent. Want of judgment may be shown in not adapting truth to the condition and character of men; in assuming, always, a hostile, an- 324 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT tagonist attitude; in presenting doctrines in extrava- gant lights; in ascribing all evils to some single source; in resolving all virtues into some particular grace; in assailing classes of men, almost as if we loved to see them writhe. In these ways, we fail to follow out, in the pulpit and in parochial life, the great principles of wisdom, and fitness, and kindness, which constitute so much of all that commends the minister of Christ, as well as other men, to the sympathy and confidence of human society in all times and in every part of the world. A clergyman is to be an example to the flock, a model of character. What he teaches he is expected to practise. The rules of good-breeding, of courtesy, of hospitality, of justice, integrity, fidelity, charity, which he inculcates, it belongs to him to exemplify. Hundreds of eyes watch him. A severe standard is applied to him. In dress, in social intercourse, in the transaction of pecuniary business, he may not forget that he is called to show how beautiful is a holy life, how purifying, and lovely, and ennobling is the spirit of true piety. In all these respects, no Chesterfield is needed to teach us manners, no Bacon or Franklin to teach us morals. The best of all guides are the spontaneous suggestions of good sense and true love. Under their full influence, we shall hardly err in any thing essen- tial, and rarely offend even in trivial matters. But this love and this good sense are to be cherished and nursed like other traits. They may not be neglected. AS AFFECTED BY MINISTERIAL CHARACTER. 325 They die out of an unguarded and uncultivated mind. They are choked by gross tastes, and indulgences, and passions. It is not safe to these virtues even to go with one’s shoes unblacked, and his coat unbrushed, and a collar that ought to have been changed yester- day. The usages of life, where we live, cannot be violated with impunity. The rules of delicacy, of decorum, of propriety may be disregarded, and the offence forgiven because the good man does not know any better. But not to know better is a defect, though it may not be a sin. And we may rely on it, that every thing which lets down the character of the man, every thing offensive to taste or moral sensibility, which attaches to his name, is so much detracted from his power in the pulpit. Every disagreeable, or ludicrous, or vulgar association diminishes the force of the most conclusive reasoning, and impairs the influence of the most efficient appeals to the heart. His very residence, the parsonage itself, speaks for him. There is an unfavorable association of baldness, and carelessness, and coldness connected with that awkward, over-large, half-finished house, without a fence, or a tree, or a decent outbuilding on the prem- ises. A man’s mind will not work kindly in such a place. All our ideas of the frugal neatness, the sim- ple tastefulness, the charming air of comfort and re- pose, –ideas rendered familiar by the customs of our ancestors, –the green, embowered, fragrant, intellec- tual dwelling-place of successive generations of rural pastors, – all these are painfully violated by such a 326 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT parsonage. And we cannot but think that a sermon thought out in so uninviting a place, though, like the orations of Demosthenes, it may smell of the lamp, would be really improved by the redolence of “the sweet-brier and the vine and the twisted eglantine.” The only other consideration which we propose to suggest is the connection of the place and circum- stances of public worship with the eloquence of the pulpit. - Religion is, indeed, a duty, and the greatest of all duties. And, were it austere and painful, the divine worship would still be binding upon us; we should still be held to bring our sacrifices to the dreadful Godhead. But the sense of duty is not the only feeling appealed to by our religion. All our active principles are made to minister to it. Taste and the social feeling, and even pride itself, are employed to add to the sense of religious obligation. These prin- ciples all operate in making the place of worship a means of Christian influence, an auxiliary to the truth. There is something so repulsive in an ill-adapted, neg- lected, shattered, slovenly, uncomfortable house, that religion is not honored by it. The gospel is not so well preached, nor so well heard, in such a place. A disagreeable association is attached to every thing done in it, and to every body seen there. What is the language of such a spectacle to the world Near a bright, flourishing village, or, perhaps, on the bleak top of a distant hill, stands a great, high, grayish building, with a tall, leaning spire, a multitude AS AFFECTED BY MINISTERIAL CHARACTER. 327 of windows, once, no doubt, well glazed, three double doors that cannot be shut, and here and there a clap- board hanging by one end. Within are large square boxes, with narrow seats and high backs; a pulpit in the form of a deep tub fixed high in one side of the house; and, in severe weather, a sheet-iron stove, prevented from setting fire to the house by a pile of bricks on each side, having a pipe distilling pyrolig- neous acid along the aisles and upon the pews; and, as a natural consequence of all these things, on a pleasant Sabbath, an audience of some sixty or a hundred, scattered over the floor and galleries of a house large enough to hold a thousand. The people of the place indulge themselves with every comfort at home ; live in neatly finished, bright- painted, well inclosed, shaded, vine-clad cottages, or more spacious and costly mansions of stone or brick, thoroughly warmed, and in perfect repair. Even their barns are well cared for, close, and often painted. What is the import of this contrast? what, but that, in the esteem of this people, it is well enough for us to live in houses of cedar, while the ark of the covenant of our God remaineth under curtains P Of all places in the world, the house of our God should be most carefully adapted to invite the thought- less and the young, the indolent and the worldly, the lovers of their own comfort and accommodation. These comprise the greatest part of society. These are the lost, whom the gospel comes to save. A cushioned seat, a carpeted aisle, an organ even, and, 328 THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT. more than all, a well trained choir, are not mere su- perfluities or luxuries; they help to preach the gospel of the blessed God to a fastidious world. They are part of the eloquence of the pulpit. Could we inspire the young with a holy respect, a cheerful affection, for the sanctuary, -could we weave into the tissue of their first thoughts delightful feelings of attachment to the house of our God, - could we gather round the place of their youthful worship the sweet influences of reverence for truth and goodness, – how much oftener would they be found departing not from the way they should go, when they are old ! Could we do this, how rare in after life would be that rude, vulgar insensibility to moral and religious con- siderations, which meets the warm tide of Christian love, as the rock repels the wave; and receives the gentle dews of grace, as the desert drinks the rain! -º THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. FROM THE AMERICAN QUARTERLY OBSERVER FOR APRIL, 1834. OUR sacred history, Jewish and Christian, is nearly uncultivated — terra incognita — by a large majority of the reading community. It is not the prevailing taste to study history of any kind. He who stops long to investigate, to compare, to weigh and balance, to scent out the noiseless, unobserved footsteps of truth or error, to trace the insensible changes of principle and character in large masses of men, to hold converse with that philosophy which is said to teach by the examples of history, is in danger of falling quite in the rear of his age. He is in much the same predicament with the man who jumps out of a railroad-car to do a half-hour's business on the way, and equally sure to part company with his companions. But ecclesiastical history, church his- tory, -it stands in a modern library (if peradventure its owner has inherited any such things) by the side of John Calvin's Commentaries and Joseph Butler's Works; or, with those venerable records of learning and wisdom, and others of a kindred excellence, has 42 330 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. been bestowed in a corner of the garret, the general repository of antiquated furniture and “old books,” to await the final gathering up of things for the administrator’s sale. There is some apology for this distaste for sacred history in the fact that it is, to such a lamentable degree, neither agreeably nor satisfactorily written. The authors on this subject, who have appeared in English, have fallen far short of the first class of historians, and, unless the translation of the recent work of Neander be an exception, have entirely failed to communicate the charm of united genius and original research to their productions. And what is, perhaps, quite as unfortunate for the reputation of ecclesiastical history, the most illustrious of our civil historians have taken no satisfaction in displaying the merits of the church. The eloquence of Gibbon and Hume gives no attractions to the annals of Christian heroism. Even Robertson had little sensi- bility to the real spirit of the religion at whose altars, we have too much reason to fear, he hypocritically and profanely ministered. In a field so crowded with objects as that which modern European history embraces, it is not easy for pretty well read men to judge of the completeness of the view, or the justness of the relations, which the picture before them presents. Most readers, of course, commit themselves to the direction of their guide, with entire confidence. And it may well be questioned whether any thing else has done so much to loosen the hold i THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 331 of the Christian faith upon the present generation as the real merit and the undiscriminating, unintelli- gent commendation of the celebrated works of the first two of these truly great men ; works, the certain tendency of which is, by ingenious sophistry and false representations, to inspire contempt for all professions of religious faith or devotion. In this view of the subject, it is much to be regret- ted that we have not a series of historians, of at least equal genius, adequate learning, and a thoroughly Christian spirit, capable of bringing our religious antiquities forth from comparative obscurity and neg- lect, and challenging a general respect for the im- mense mass of incident and variety of character which the progress of revealed religion has undoubt- edly produced. It is in the power of minds of the highest order to give interest to the least promising subjects, to render the most barren and uninviting field fertile and rich. Indeed, it is the man that makes the subject what it seems. The sofa was theme enough for one of the very best productions of Cowper; a few brief hints in the book of Genesis, which had before given birth to nothing but commen- tary upon commentary, - that torpedo to the text, as Campbell calls it, — furnished to Milton argument for Paradise Lost; tales and scraps of history, which had floated down the current of English tradition, or lay scattered up and down in the scanty and bald annals of the times, without, perhaps, waking up the imagination of a single mind, no sooner felt the magic 332 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. touch of Shakspeare, than they arose as from the dead, and stood forth in immortal beauty and power. It is not, however, intended by these remarks to impute the neglect of ecclesiastical history altogether to the defects of those who have written it. There is no small amount of talent or research evinced in this department. Not to mention the translation of the learned work of Mosheim, through which he is chiefly known to us, and which is said to have done so little justice to the original, and the equally com- mon work of Milner, the dissertation of Villers on the Reformation, and Bishop Ireland’s Lectures on Paganism and Christianity, may be regarded as among the best and most delightful books in any department of knowledge. Still, these treatises are not popular. Ireland's Lectures have not been even republished in this country, and Villers is rarely to be seen. How many, out of the profession of di- vinity (if we need to make even so much exception), have read Mosheim or Milner P May it not be said that the singularly fortunate author of the History of the Jews, in the series of the Family Library, is about the only sacred historian that actually enjoys a tolerable popularity at this moment And is it merely because no more attention is de- served by those who have labored in this department of history? Or is there another reason also, -a rea- son which, while it contributes to explain, in some measure, the general disregard of the subject, explains, at the same time, the fact we have admitted, that i THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 333 * sacred history has not enlisted its just proportion of the very highest order of genius : Are not both these facts, in some degree, accounted for by the yet imperfect influence of the gospel, - the partial incor- poration of its great events, and doctrines, and spirit, into our literature, and the body of our associations and feelings P Religion holds no divided empire over the human heart. It admits no partner to its throne. If heartily embraced, it interweaves itself with all the creations of the mind; it is a principal element of our being, or it has essentially nothing to do with it, and becomes a mere accident or appendage. Hence, every religious system which has been honestly and cordially embraced is seen in all the manifestations of the mind and heart of its devotees, in their science, their art, their poetry, their history, their eloquence. It breaks out to view, wherever the student of their manners and institutions turns his eye. It is incapa- ble of concealment, — it unconsciously betrays itself in all the developments of national character. The more rational and spiritual a religion is, the more manifest will be this exhibition of it. The most striking example we have is, probably, that of the Jews. The facts and associations connected with their religious history are the groundwork of their whole national existence. The spirit of their religion is the spirit of their civil and intellectual, as well as moral, being. Their conscious relation to Jehovah, and to an expected Redeemer, is the central point of observation from which their entire history and char- 334 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. acter are to be viewed. For such an exhibition, in a nation purely Christian, the time has not arrived. The history of Christianity is the history of a protracted contest with determined and powerful enemies. Such enemies it has to encounter, in one form or another, everywhere. No nation has yet universally and heartily submitted to its dominion. To be baptized with the name of Christ is not of course to put on his image. “They are not all Israel, which are of Israel.” Nominally Christian nations present the strange spectacle of communities, of whom a comparatively small number only even profess to be Christians; communities, not constituting so many churches, including each a whole people, but in which there are churches. Such nations can have no unity of character, no perfect community of feel- ing. Their literature cannot be one, any more than their faith and life are one. Accordingly, English literature is neither a pagan nor a Christian litera- ture, but a mixture of the two. Besides professional writers on divinity, authors of a high character, in every department, may be selected, of a truly Chris- tian stamp, pure and purifying ; whilst a multitude of others might be found, deriving, confessedly, incal- culable benefits from Christianity, and boasting of their obligations to the profound conceptions which it contains, and yet breathing a spirit essentially hostile to it, and deeply tinctured with an unholy and sensual philosophy; others still, and their number is not small, are avowed unbelievers, foul with the pestilent princi- ples of general skepticism and licentiousness. i THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 335 Now, so long as the public mind, or any consid- erable portion of it, is thus at variance with the spirit of the gospel, and, of course, with all practical ex- emplifications of its power in “creating us anew,” and “working in us that which is well pleasing in the sight of God,” so long there can be no reason to wonder that sacred history, the history of the in- troduction and conquests of “the faith once delivered to the saints,” finds comparatively few to study and appreciate it; especially, when presented to them, as, for the most part, it is, without the attractions in which it is the prerogative of genius alone to invest the subjects of its inspiration. Even true friends of religion so far insensibly imbibe the prevalent spirit, as scarcely to have their attention drawn to its his- tory, and remain in voluntary ignorance of one of the richest sources of satisfaction to a pious mind. It hardly needs to be added, that a department so little esteemed is not likely to be much cultivated by authors; what bears but a small price, and com- mands but a tardy sale, will not be industriously pro- duced at great expense of thought and research. There are those, however, and they will not always be few, who regard the history of religion as the most interesting of all history, the most instructive, and the most encouraging to the hopes of man. 1. It is the most interesting of histories. Regard- ing the Jewish and Christian systems as substantially one, – “Christ expected,” as Fénélon happily says, “in the Old Testament, and reigning in the New,”— 336 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. the very first idea suggested to the mind is one of great sublimity, that of the uninterrupted existence of the church from the beginning, — of a body of men perpetuating their principles and essential peculiar- ities, and tracing their descent, by written records, back to the utmost limit of history, even to within a few generations of the parents of our race. The only body of men that was ever much persecuted for their religion, they have been everywhere spoken against and resisted, and yet never exterminated. Suppose, that, when Abraham was called to be the founder of the Hebrew race, and “father of the faithful,” the veil had been lifted from the future, and the fortunes of his children made to pass before him, - their revolutions, their captivities and oppres- sions, under the tyrants of the West, and the South, and the East, and their constant exposure to every seductive form of Superstition. On what principle of reason would the patriarch have anticipated the preservation of the church Yet she was preserved, till, of his own blood, came the promise and hope of Israel. But let him extend his prophetic vision, — let him see the nation which sprung from his loins herself scattered and annihilated, her altars overthrown, and her institutions obliterated. Could he have believed that the church would still survive P. She did survive; though banished from “the city of her solemnities,” and persecuted even in the caves and dens of the mountains, though lacerated and tortured wherever THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 337 she rested her foot for an hour, she survived, to raise new altars and new temples, and to sing a new song, in every city and village of the known world. Nay, more, when the nations with whom she had now become incorporated were in their turn overrun and destroyed, and the languages in which her records were contained disused, she still lived. Neither ex- ternal violence nor internal corruption have proved fatal. The former she has exhausted by patience; from the latter she has been purified by prayer. Considered merely on the principles of taste, of dramatic effect, it is impossible to name any thing in the course of human events so fitted to arrest atten- tion as what is recorded in the inspired histories. For grandeur of incident, magnificence of scenery, loftiness of principle and purpose, or touching minute- ness of detail, as well as pregnant brevity of style, what can be compared with them The great facts, — the creation of the earth, and of man upon it; its sudden depopulation by the flood; redemption by the sacrifice of the Son of God; the final conflagration (for prophecy here takes the form of history); and the judgment, winding up the scene of human things, in the general assembly of all that live, in earth, or heaven, or hell, at the throne of God, - subjects treated by the sacred writers as familiar things, – what do they leave to imagination to conceive of the sublime and wonderful? Scarcely less singular and remarkable are the minor facts and circumstances of the history. The call and 43 338 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. subsequent life of Abraham; the bondage in Egypt; the forty years' journeyings in the wilderness; the government and worship of the Jews in Canaan; the magnificence of the regal power; the prophetic office; and the ultimate destiny of this peculiar people, - have the annals of the world, or romance itself, any thing equally romantic * To many of these things, and to the numerous touches of character and pathos in the Gospels and the Acts, let the lovers of fine writ- ing find a parallel in the pages of Hume, or any unin- spired historian. That they are not more thought of by the generality of readers is because they are too familiar to our ears to arouse attention, like many current maxims, less understood for being frequently repeated, or like objects of vision, too near to be distinctly seen. As the scene presented in ecclesiastical history becomes wider and more complicated, embracing many nations and all classes, enlisting philosophers and statesmen, affecting long established institutions, political and religious, and beginning to be a principal subject of thought, a centre of life and motion to society, our inspired guides forsake us, and we are left to depend on the less certain records and monu- ments which time has spared. But certainly we are called to behold no ordinary sight, when twelve simple men of Galilee, without apparent power or means, and with a confidence as firm as it was to human apprehension insane, undertake the conversion of the world In little more than a century from the THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 339 birth of Christ, their successors penetrate nearly every country of the earth, and plant churches every- where; and, within about three hundred years, are found reposing from their toils and perils and suffer- ings, under an emperor who sways a Christian scep- tre over the whole civilized world. And yet, perhaps, the main interest of the scene does not consist in this general view. The passages of history which affect us most, and to which we oftenest recur, are not always those which derive importance from the numbers concerned, or even from the magnitude of the interests at stake ; not those which are rendered magnificent by the achievements of power, or awful by the destruction of life. The circumstances which give a charm to the page of history are quite as often of a humbler character, affecting individuals more than nations, and claiming the regard of the historian, not on their own account, but as striking indications of the general nature or local peculiarities of man. Of such circumstances ecclesiastical history is full. Indeed, the history of religion, of a spiritual religion like the gospel, is the aggregate of the histories of the individual minds by which it is embraced. It is the history of “the law of our minds” warring against “the law in our members,” of the contest of truth and error for the throne of the heart, of reason and conscience with passion and interest, of the Spirit of God with the spirit of this world. This history introduces us not only into councils and senates, but into neighbour- 340 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. hoods, and families, and closets. And who does not see that the man who can carry us back to the first ages of Christianity, and make us feel at home in the midst of its early friends, is master of no questionable or common power: If any period is rich in materials for eloquent history, it is when strong ties are ruptured and strong passions at work; when the elements of human character are all excited ; when the best and the worst traits of man are ex- hibited side by side. And never was this so truly the case as in the first three centuries of the Chris- tian era, when “a man was at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a man’s foes were they of his own household,”—when the “brother delivered up the brother to death, and the father the child, and the children rose up against their parents, and caused them to be put to death.” The author of Valerius, and Milman, found here materials for fiction of the choicest character. It is wonderful that more frequent use has not been made of them for the same purpose. The sacred histori- an, who does not avail himself of them, knows not “ wherein his great strength lieth.” 2. Ecclesiastical history is in the highest degree instructive. It is not wanting in any of the ordinary and most obvious lessons of history. The great vir- tues and great weaknesses of men all appear, here, in a strong light; and the amiable affections and ferocious passions of the heart, in their mutual action, THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 34.1 exhibit as full and as impressive a picture of human life and character as the world affords. What is there in the sudden reverses of fortune, the alterna- tions of success and defeat, recorded by the histo- rians of the Caesars, more striking, or more wor- thy of attention, for any reason, than the brief but truth-telling and graphic annals of the Jewish kings? What, in the artifices by which power was perpet- uated for so many centuries over the pliant and abus- ed multitudes of the ancient world, more remarka- ble, either for the original conception or for ingenuity of accommodation to new circumstances, than we find in the records of religious tyranny ? What so fitted to lessen our reliance on the opinions of others, with- out diminishing our respect for their principles and feelings, as the successive and varying forms of belief among men, equally appealing to the same unerring standard P. What so likely to restrain our fancies, and rebuke our plausible conjectures upon subjects of the highest and most hazardous speculation, as the melancholy tale of religious theorists and system-mon- gers Of the fate of “vaulting ambition” “o'er- leaping itself,” of retiring genius and moral worth graced with uncoveted honors, and called by public exigencies to an envied prečminence, the English church affords as instructive examples as the state. Of the immense mass of facts and experiments which constitute the treasures of history, and, it may be added, the principal materials of thought, — the grounds of our practical judgments, -the basis of our general 342 y THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. truths in the moral sciences, –of these, how large a portion does this branch of history furnish and, if we value them by their connection with ourselves, and especially by their connection with our intellectual nature, our moral relations and interests, bow unlikely are we to overestimate their utility Of the advantages more or less peculiar to this department of history, it is easy to mention several, which it is impossible to treat at length within the limits of this essay. If their suggestion encourage the reader to pursue them into detail, for himself, the object of the writer will be answered. The first to be named is, that the history of the Christian religion teaches the true secret of power over the human mind. It is well demonstrated that physical force cannot avail to govern the world. It cannot sustain itself. The wisest and best established institutions certainly decay, - “Lente augescunt, cito eatinguuntur.” It has been man's great study to find the key to his own heart, the spring that can regulate the moral machinery of the world. He invoked phi- losophy; and she sent out her ministers, and pro- claimed her precepts. “Her word returned unto her void.” Her Socrates was sacrificed in vain; her Plato was but “as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instru- ment.” Human things had reached a crisis. The experiment had been made in every form, and under every climate. No power to restrain, to hold back, much less to turn and purify and save the human THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 343 r r race, had been discovered. The elements of society seemed ready to be separated; man was about to “ perish utterly in his own corruption.” At this crisis, while the nations, with a common anxiety, and under the guidance of an obscure intimation which seems to have been circulated among them, and derived from the Jewish Scriptures, were looking for a deliverer to arise, Jesus of Nazareth appeared. He claimed the world as “his own "; and professed to be about to reform and save it, to restore its primeval beauty and bliss. He was ridiculed for his pretensions, hated for his virtue, and put to death for his beneficence. He rose from the dead, and, having commissioned twelve men to “go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature,” he “was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight.” They went forth and preached. The sum of their doctrine was “Christ crucified,”—“God manifest in the flesh.” They evidently relied for success, so far as they relied on any means, on the simple fact, that the Son of God had suffered upon the cross for the redemption of man. This fact they preached always and every- where. They “ knew nothing else.” The work has been arduous and long; but it cannot be doubted that the world will be converted, and converted by this one great and single truth. “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me”; a proph- ecy how certain to be accomplished History shows the actual power of this doctrine; and a little reflection enables us to see how admirably 344 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. it is fitted to our case. Sin is, in its nature, a triumph over reason and conscience. In proportion as it is indulged, it deadens the moral sensibilities. Hence, under a government of law, the progress of iniquity is, perhaps, always irresistible, and terminates in the abandonment of all duty and the defiance of all au- thority. What evidence is there that a single moral being, who has once resisted his conscience and sac- rificed his character, was ever arrested in his down- ward course by the mere sense of duty or fear? What proof is there in history of any essential moral reformation among men, where Christ has not been “set forth, evidently crucified ??? The unreasonable- ness and folly of sin have been standing themes in all times. Yet iniquity has reigned. Nations have grown worse as they have grown old; and God has swept them off together by a universal flood, or sunk them, one by one, in fearful succession. The history of the world is the history of nations perishing by their vices, and, therefore, for their vices. When has such a thing been known as a people saved by a moral reforma- tion ? In the case of the Jews and of Christian na- tions alone. The principle on which the efficiency of the gospel, considered as a means of moral renovation, depends, is not new. It is of frequent application in life. In the recovery of men from particular vices, we ordina- rily address some strong feeling of the mind, upon which the predominant sin does not directly act. We appeal, for example, to personal friendship, to filial º THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 345 affection, to paternal or conjugal love. When the fear of God, when all sense of duty and self-respect have lost their power, a father's voice may be heard. When even this voice, associated necessarily with something of austerity, has failed, there will some- times linger a charm in the dear name of sister, mother, to hold the ear and curb the passions of infu- riate youth. Signal instances of recovery from in- temperance bear testimony to the persuasive influence of conjugal patience. The meek submission and un- conquered love of an abused wife have been able to rouse the sleeping sensibilities, and summon into ac- tion every surviving energy of the poor victim of his lusts, whom every other friend had abandoned to his fate. On the same principle, the gospel addresses the objects of its mercy. The Son of God assumes the character of a friend; lays aside the terrors of the Godhead; puts off the sternness of the judge; leaves the throne; takes our own nature; bears with our infirmities; endures our scorn; weeps over our mis- eries and stubborn guilt, knocking at the doors of our hearts, until his locks are wet with the dew; and finally submits to a cruel death, at our own hands, that we might live. In this whole scene there is something so extraordinary, so entirely beyond and above all that we see or read of in human character; such amazing condescension, such unaffected concern even for enemies; such tenderness and sympathy, - all united with an intelligence so vast, an acquaintance with other worlds so awful, a penetration into human 44. 346 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. hearts so irresistible, that no man can think soberly of it, unmoved. No man can easily think lightly of his spiritual interests and relations, who feels himself to be addressed in the gospel of the Son of God. No man can quietly repose upon his pillow, who listens for an hour to the strangely sweet, but awful and prophetic, voice of Jesus Christ. The king trembles; the poor Indian turns from the chase to listen; the stupid Hottentot is roused to think. Thus the gospel is “the power of God and the wisdom of God to salvation,” and lays the only foundation for any cer- tain and permanent influence over the civil and social, as well as moral, destinies of man. Another important lesson inculcated by ecclesiasti- cal history, and in some measure involved in the preceding, though worthy of distinct notice, is that Christianity is in principle, and has been in fact, the fast friend and the only safe foundation of civil liberty. It has been the policy of a set of writers of no mean fame to bring the clergy and the church into disgrace, and to hold them up to popular detestation, as the secret enemies of civil liberty. It cannot be denied, however, that, although Christ enjoined obe- dience to the civil magistrate, under an iron despotism, he taught great principles of right and duty, upon which no such thing as despotism, civil or religious, can stand for a single day, and which will, inevitably, if they prevail, make every nation free. The great doctrine of a moral equality among men; of the sacred- ness of human life; of individual moral accountability ! THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 34.7 to God, and to God alone; and of a future life, – how can men receive these doctrines, and despise, or en- slave, or destroy one another f Christianity teaches us to govern men, as God made them to be governed, by reason and conscience. In order to make patriots and good citizens, it seeks to make good men. It raises the fabric of public morals and happiness upon the basis of domestic and private virtue. It supposes a man to love his country, because that country contains something worthy of his love ; to respect its laws, because they are reasonable laws; to abstain from violence and fraud, and every other crime, for conscience’s sake and in the fear of God. In short, she gives to every man the rank, and lays on him the responsibilities, of a rational and moral being. And wherever these principles have been adopted, man has been free, and just in proportion as they have been adopted. This the student of ecclesiasti- cal history knows; and it cannot but be regretted that so much of our civil history overlooks a fact which gives to the annals of the modern world their most striking peculiarity. The Christian clergy and the church enemies to liberty! What was their great struggle through nearly the whole of the first three centuries for P Was it not for liberty, -liberty of person and liberty of con- science, — for the right to think as they pleased, and to teach what they thought, and to do as they chose, so be they interfered not with the rights of others For what did they flee to deserts and mountains? and from what did they flee P 348 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. During the Anglo-Saxon period of English history, “the political effects of Christianity,” says Sharon Turner, “were as good as they could be in that age of darkness; but it must be confessed that they were not so beneficial as its individual influence; and yet we are indebted to it for chivalry and the high-minded tone of spirit and character which that produced. We owe to its professors all the improvement that we have derived from the civil law which they discovered, revived, explained, and patronized. Nor has Chris- tianity been unserviceable to our constitutional liberty; every battle which the churchman fought against the king or noble was for the advantage of general free- dom.” At the memorable meeting of “the prelates and barons of the kingdom,” at which it was agreed to demand of King John their lost privileges, and which resulted in the signing of “the Great Charter of the liberties of England,” an archbishop “led the storm.” We glory in the Reformation, as a great advance in the cause of human liberty; and most justly. But who led the way in the Reformation ? Clergymen and members of the church. It was a reformation in the church, brought about by the spirit of liberty in its own bosom. The first martyrs to that spirit were ministers and their adherents. Wickliffe, and Huss, and Jerome of Prague, and Luther, were all divines. Was not the Puritan a friend of liberty To whom but the clergy and their followers do we owe our own free institutions? We have no sympathy with clerical THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 349 usurpation; no toleration for ecclesiastical pride and luxury and indolence. But let the church and its ministers have their due. They have not eradicated tyranny and iniquity. They have too often indulged and fostered it. But let the mass of free sentiment, of liberal feeling, which has been expressed by the human mind, be ascribed to its true authors; let the sacrifices of personal interest and of life, in the cause of liberty, be estimated; let the clergy and the Chris- tian world have the credit of what belongs to them; and we have no reason, as freemen, to be ashamed of the gospel or the history of its followers. - The only other advantage of this history which can now be mentioned is, that it explains the enigma of human life. It is necessary, to give unity to the pic- ture of the world. It furnishes the central point of observation of the divine providence. What means this strange succession of events, – this rapid progress towards perfection, and this sudden blasting of human hopes, this perpetual circle of changes, by which man is continually coming round to the point from which he started The gospel alone gives the answer, and its history is the voice of Providence attesting its truth and enforcing it upon our attention, — it is to bring man, by the disappointment of all his own schemes of happiness, and the manifest unsatisfac- toriness of all other good, to his primeval confidence and rest in God. 3. This branch of history is, also, full of encour- agement to the friends of the human race. 350 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. What philanthropist has not felt his heart sink within him, whenever he has attempted to infer the destiny of man from his past history What is the language inscribed upon the tombs of deceased na- tions P Any thing, certainly, but that of hope and encouragement. History saw the earth twice peopled anew by the Almighty in the first four thousand years; and the career of national glory and decay twice run, through twenty centuries, in the richest and most propitious portions of our globe. And, standing with her foot upon the ruins of two worlds, she proclaimed the solemn lesson, gathered from their annals, that “Death hath passed upon all ” nations; that a nation hath not power over her spirit to retain it. In modern times, too, empires have come forth in the bloom of youth, have grown to the maturity and glory of man- hood, and, anon, are seen in “the sear and yellow leaf of age.” But, with all that is painful and disheartening, modern history is full of promise also. There has been a substantial advancement in Society, a manifest tendency to base all institutions on reason and right feeling. There is more harmony of interests and of action among the different communities of the world, more respect for what Tacitus calls the “conscientiam humani generis.” The increasing aversion to war and to slavery, the zeal with which intellectual improve- ment and social and domestic happiness are sought, and the strong light thrown upon every subject of real interest to man, all indicate a new and peculiar state THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 351 of things, and encourage us to hope for a development of the energies and virtues of which the mind is capable, not easy to be computed. It is needless to remark that what is new in this state of human affairs is chiefly owing to the Christian religion. This is generally conceded. What was said by Chateau- briand, twenty years ago, would need to be greatly enlarged to adapt it to the present period. May it not be said, that, within these twenty years, the most prominent movements of society are obvious and un- questionable indications of prodigious activity of Chris- tian principle F “There are computed to be,” says the eloquent writer just alluded to, “on the surface of Christian Europe, about 4,300 towns and villages. Of these 4,300 towns and villages, 3,294 are of the first, sec- ond, third, and fourth rank. Allowing one hospital to each. of these 3,294 places (which is far below the truth), you will have 3,294 hospitals, almost all founded by the spirit of Christianity, endowed by the church, and attended by religious orders. Supposing, that, upon an average, each of these hospitals contains a hundred beds, or, if you please, fifty beds for two patients each, you will find that religion, exclusively of the immense number of poor which she supports, has daily dispensed relief and subsistence, for more than a thousand years, to about 329,400 persons. “On Summing up the colleges and universities, we find nearly the same results; and we may safely assert that they afford instruction to at least 300,000 youths 352 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. in the different countries of Christendom. In this statement we have not included either the Christian hospitals and colleges in the other three quarters of the globe, or the females educated by the nuns. “To these results may now be added the catalogue of the celebrated men produced by the church, who form nearly two thirds of the distinguished characters of modern times; we must repeat, as we have shown, that to the church we owe the revival of the arts, sciences, and letters; that to her are due most of the great modern discoveries, as gunpowder, clocks, the mariner's compass, and the representative system : that agriculture and commerce, the laws and the science of government, are under innumerable obliga- tions to her; that her missions introduced the arts and sciences among civilized nations, and laws among savage tribes; that her institution of chivalry power- fully contributed to save Europe from an invasion of new barbarians; that to her mankind is indebted for the worship of one God; the more firm establishment of the doctrine of the existence of that supreme Being; the more thorough conviction of the immortality of the soul, and also of a future state of rewards and punishments; a more enlarged and active humanity; a whole and perfect virtue, and—which alone is equiv- alent to all the others — charity; a political law and the law of nations, unknown to the ancients; and, above all, the abolition of slavery.” To look more directly at the history of Christianity; it presents a new and most encouraging picture of benevolent effort. THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 353 The idea of a mission of love to distant nations originated with the divine Author of the gospel. It is a humble imitation of his own visit of mercy to our world. The sages of Greece travelled to Egypt to learn, not to teach; to obtain, not to impart, good. Heathen Rome was content to subdue Britain for the glory of conquest and her precious metals (“Fert Britannia aurum et argentum et alia metalla, prelium victoriae.”). It was a Christian bishop who exclaimed, as he saw her fair sons in the slave-market, -*What a pity, that such a beauteous frontispiece should pos- sess a mind so void of internal graces !” It was a monk who carried into execution the philanthropic resolution of the bishop, that “the praise of the cre- ating Deity must be sung in these regions.” The minister of the gospel, the missionary of the cross, has been the pioneer of civilization, of domestic hap- piness, of good morals, and a pure worship of the true God, in all the nations who have risen from bar- barism to refinement in modern times. This great change, this practical adoption of the divine maxim, “It is more blessed to give than to receive,” is the more animating to the hopes of the philanthropist, because what has been already effected is so much the result of individual enterprise and individual perseverance. It is an exalted commentary on the power of a single mind devoted to a worthy object. It opens the prospect of certain, and, it may be, of unlimited usefulness to every man who feels a conscious energy of thought, and is warmed by the 45 354 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. holy fire of a benevolent enthusiasm. Paul, with per- sonal disadvantages and an unpopular cause, in the expressive language of his enemies, “turned the world upside down.” Wickliffe, when his spirit was stirred within him by the iniquities of the times, gave utter- ance to his indignation in the language of simple but living truth, that shook the foundations of ecclesiasti- cal imposture to their centre. His writings, carried to the University of Prague, converted John Huss, the Reformer of Bohemia. The sermons of Huss, finding their way into a convent at Erfurt, and falling into the hands of Martin Luther, “led him,” says Sharon Turner, “to become the Reformer of Germany.” Whitefield is admitted, by those who have no sympa- thy with his religious views, not only to have roused the spirit of piety from its slumbers in England and America, but to have quickened, in his remoter influ- ences, the entire mass of English mind, and given a bolder and stronger character to the national literature. Howard opened the dungeons of Europe to the light of Christian charity; Clarkson gave an impulse to the cause of African emancipation, which will be fol- lowed up till every slave is permitted to go free. Men have only to see and feel their individual might in a righteous cause, in the cause of truth and of heaven, and we can set no bounds to the ultimate results of the benevolent energies already enlisted in favor of the human race. The records of the church strikingly teach what man has done, and, therefore, what he may do. | THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 355 To those who regard religion as itself the great good and end of man, and the world as ultimately benefited so far only as it has found repose and peace in God, the history of the church is, on another ac- count, full of hope. It is true, there are great fluctu- ations in her history. The infidel has long sung his unholy triumph upon the ruins of her first altars; and the seven churches of Asia exist only in the admoni- tory letter of St. John. And the unreflecting mind is apt to see, in these melancholy facts, only new in- stances of the mutability of human things; new proofs of the caprices of fortune. But there is a deeper view of the subject, and one which it becomes our own times to contemplate with serious attention. “It is,” says Paley, “an immense conclusion, that there is a God.” If so, there is a moral governor, and a scheme of government. The history of the world is the development of this scheme, so far at least as we are interested. It would be strange, then, if, even without the aid of revelation, we were utterly unable to discover the drift and bearing of the divine providence. But the Bible assures us that the object is the one simple purpose of bringing back the soul of man to God. This it seeks to do by bringing God back to the soul; to know God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent, is eternal life. Hence it were to be ex- pected, of course, that history would be not only an illustration of the character of man, but a revelation of God, also, to man, a continued attestation to his being, and an unceasing admonition to us to return to 356 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. him, as our supreme good. That such is the character of all human history is a proposition too general to be easily demonstrated. Suffice it to say, that, if any greater object is discoverable in the wonderful course of human affairs, let the student of man point it out. An illustration of this general proposition, in a single instance, may be given in the case of the Jews. The purpose to be accomplished was the revelation of God to the race of Abraham. To this, in one sense, all that was necessary was to write the divine law on tables of stone, and set them up before the eyes of the people. But who does not see that this would have availed scarcely more than to hang a parchment, containing the Gospels, in the temple of Juggernautſ Of what efficacy are words alone with such a people? Truth must be wrought into their minds by other discipline than that of rhetoric. Is not here the explanation of the strange series of events preparatory to the establishment of the nation in the promised land? They answered the purposes of moral discipline to those immediately concerned in them. But were they not intended, also, to answer the higher purpose of furnishing materials for that singular fabric of civil government and religious wor- ship, which was to maintain itself, and hold the people together as a peculiar and unmixed race, and, through all their fortunes, bound to Jehovah and his institu- tions, with a strength of attachment that excited uni- versal astonishment P. On the circumstances in their history which seem most strange and unaccountable, ! * THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 357 such as the events in Egypt and the desert, are grounded all their characteristic observances and in- stitutions. These facts inspire their national poetry, and are wrought into the whole texture of their liter- ature; are made the subjects of parental instruction; are suggested by every object of interest that meets the eye. They are the key to the Jewish character. And what are they, after all, but most striking exhibi- tions of God, in circumstances to associate him with all the tender, and awful, and powerful recollections of a people * What are they, but just such a revela- tion of God as that people needed, and could never wholly forget or disregard P We see the same purpose pursued, on a larger scale, in the gospel. The object is, to work the con- viction of the being and providence of God into the constitution of man; to make the sense of depend- ence and responsibility an essential principle of the mind; to bring its intellectual and moral powers into harmony with the divine government, that, in the bold language of the New Testament, we may dwell in God and God in us. This object might be effected by a word, as the world was created; but it would change the nature of man thus to change his charac- ter. And we might as well expect an instantaneous and involuntary renovation of a single mind, as to look for any such sudden impression of God upon the world at large. “The Pilgrim’s Progress from this World to that which is to come "is no unfit represen- tation of the series of contests and triumphs by which 358 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. the religion of Christ is gaining possession of the kingdoms of this world. Nothing can be inferred, as to the result, from the rise or decline of individual communities of Christians, or particular forms of Chris- tianity. It would be as safe to argue the prospects of “the pilgrim’ from his struggles in the “slough of despond.” The intention of Providence is not to build up this or that form of worship, or to perpetuate the divine worship, in any form, in this or that place; it is rather to unfold and impress upon men the real nature and claims of the gospel. The history of the church is, therefore, a history of successive triumphs in the contest of faith with hydra-headed unbelief. To infer the issue of the conflict from its progress hitherto, we must endeavour to ascertain what points have been carried, what positions have been main- tained, what victories will not need to be gained over again. If, in this survey of the protracted con- flict, the ground is seen to be constantly narrowing, the points of attack and defence gradually becoming fewer and fewer, — if, amidst all the skilful shifting of scenes and changes of attitude, the enemy is evidently urged to the extremity of risking every thing in one decisive battle, against fearful odds and without re- treat, — we have room for something more than con- jecture as to the result. Let the history of Christianity speak for itself on this subject, and her friends may lift up their heads. In what great controversy has she not signally tri- umphed The writer of the Acts has briefly narrated her first successes. The crucifixion itself, which the THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 359 enemies of the Saviour regarded as the annihilation of the sect, was in fact the corner-stone of the Christian edifice. After the ascension, the Jewish Sanhedrim, failing to intimidate the apostles by threats, are about to proceed to violence, when the people, who had stood silent or exulted at the crucifixion, now inter- pose, and the persecutors are checked. But miracle was multiplied upon miracle; all Jerusalem were bring- ing their sick and possessed of the devil to be healed by the wonder-working preachers of the new religion. The rulers were filled with indignation, —imprisoned the apostles, assembled the whole senate, – worked themselves up to a defiance of the popular voice, — sent for the helpless victims of their revenge; and lo! it was announced, “The men whom ye put in prison are standing in the temple, and teaching the people.” The exasperated senate ordered them to be again seized, and brought into their presence, resolved, no doubt, to put them to instant death. “Then stood there one up in the council, a Pharisee, named Gama- liel, a doctor of the law, had in reputation of all the people’’; and again they were defeated. Thus ended the first attack upon the apostles. The persecution which arose about Stephen was suffered to proceed so far as to effect the divine pur- pose in scattering the disciples abroad, and was then terminated by the remarkable conversion of the lead- ing man in it, the determined and indefatigable Saul of Tarsus. Soon, however, the consternation pro- duced by this event wore off from the public mind; and Herod, the king, “to please the Jews,” for the / 360 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. first time enlisted the civil authority in the cause of the persecutors. He killed James, and imprisoned Peter. The day was fixed for the public execution of the latter. But, on the very night before he was to “be brought forth to the people,” “the Lord sent his angel, and delivered the apostle from the hand of Herod, and from all the expectation of the people of the Jews.” The crafty monarch, to con- ceal the cause of his defeat, put the keepers of the prison to death. While thus preserving his credit, and filling his ears with the idolatrous adulation of the multitude, “the angel of the Lord smote him upon his throne, and he was eaten of worms, and gave up the ghost. But the word of God,” adds the sacred historian, with just exultation, “grew and was multi- plied.” The next great contest of the gospel was with the philosophy and civil power of the Roman empire. The struggle was a long one, –“multa prolia, et all- quando non incruenta.” The disparity of the parties was all but infinite, – a stripling, with a sling and a stone, going out to meet the Philistine of Gath; the untitled and undisciplined followers of “the crucified malefactor,” arrayed against the acuteness and wit of Greece, the throne and armies of the empress of the world. It was a conflict of thrilling interest; and the issue long in suspense. But philosophy at length came and humbled herself before the cross of Jesus; and the majesty of Rome knelt down at his feet. Then came, in the lapse of ages, a yet severer trial to the church. She had conquered Judaism and par THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. 361 ganism. It was now to be decided whether she could control herself. And certainly, if there is a passage of utter darkness in her history, it is that which ensued upon her brilliant triumph over the rea- sonings and the power of the pagan world. But here, also, she was victorious. Internal disorder could no more prove fatal than external violence. The Reformation was her own work, and is a glorious proof that when she sleepeth she is not dead. Out of the Reformation itself, in some degree, grew a new and appalling form of opposition, the modern infidel philosophy. The exposure of real and enor- mous wickedness, under the cloak of religion, was eagerly made the occasion of assailing all pretensions to religion as hypocritical. The abuses of it became an imposing argument against its truth. Men of the greatest ability in Europe conspired to extirpate it. Its friends were shocked and dismayed, not only at the talent and eloquence employed against them, but still more at the apparent success and rude triumph of their foes. Europe was deluged with skeptical opin- ions. Inquiry began to be made into the grounds of our faith in revelation, and the result was the entire discomfiture of infidelity. It may be safely said that the masterly treatises upon the evidences of Chris- tianity, to which this great controversy gave rise, have placed those evidences upon a solid basis. Infidelity was fairly driven from the field; and no man of char- acter enough to merit reply now appears to maintain the argument in her favor. 46 362 THE STUDY OF SACRED HISTORY. The present attitude of the world in relation to this subject is singular, and singularly trying to the faith of reflecting Christians. While the argument for revelation is so clear as to admit of no reply (for we cannot dignify a splenetic newspaper effusion, or dirty pamphlet, with this name), there is, at the same time, a strange insensibility to its force. Men look upon the case as fairly made out; but with idle won- der only, or a secret misgiving that all may not be right. That a “notable miracle hath been wrought” they “cannot deny,” and yet feel not the slightest emotion. If the writer of this article is not greatly deceived, this is precisely the condition of many of the thinking men of our own country and of other countries. In this state of things, although the his- tory of the church forbids despair, regard for the cause of human happiness calls upon us to ask anxiously after a remedy. And it may not be presumptuous in the writer to suggest, that, as the gospel is in its very nature a RELIEF system, a BALM, the great point to be aimed at is not so much conviction of its truth as consciousness of its necessity. The character of our times is calling for no shallow declamations, no fine sentiments, no pretty sentences, but for what the divines of the seventeenth century have given us ex- amples of, a thorough disclosure of the inner man. We need to be made to feel not only that religion is a good thing and a duty, but that it is a necessary good, that without it we cannot die, because with- out it we cannot LIVE. THE CONNECTION OF MORAL WITH INTEL- LECTUAL CULTIVATION. FROM THE BIBLICAL REPOSITORY FOR JANUARY, 1837. WRITERs upon education have always insisted on the importance of connecting moral with intellectual culture. Even heathen authors have expressed them- selves very strongly on this subject. Plato and Quinc- tilian laid it down as a first principle, that instruction which does not make men better, as well as wiser, is essentially defective, and unworthy of public patron- age. The language of the latter, in that part of his Institutions which relates to early education, is par- ticularly worthy of remark. In all the departments of instruction, from that of the nurse to that of the master of rhetoric, he inculcates the most watchful care over every moral influence to which the youth- ful mind may be exposed. With a degree of caution which it were well if Christian teachers and parents always exercised, this illustrious Roman, himself a model of mental discipline, taste, and rectitude, and well acquainted with all the principles of education known to his age or to preceding times, requires the teacher to be a holy man,—“preceptorem sanctissi- 364, THE CONNECTION OF MORAL mum”; and to discourse much to his pupils of the honorable and the good, - “de homesto ac bono.” In his prescription of a course of reading, he would scarcely escape the censure of modern critics for fas- tidiousness. Portions of Horace he would not have read by boys. His profound maxim, that none but a good man can be an orator, is more frequently quoted than understood. He evidently saw what many, under better advantages, have yet to learn, that to the high- est order of mind moral rectitude is essential ; and, of course, that, in professional character, especially that of the orator, we never find the very first emi- mence attained without a heart delicately attuned to moral emotion. It would have been natural to think, that, as our moral constitution came to be better explained, and our relations more accurately traced out, the impor- tance of moral cultivation would be better understood and more clearly illustrated. The reverse, however, happens to be true, at least in respect to a large por- tion of the community. And, by a singular species of logic, the very importance of the subject is alleged as one of the reasons for excluding it from our sys- tems of education. On points of such vital interest as our moral judgments and spiritual concerns, it is gravely asserted, men should be left to form their own opinions. It only need be added to this profound maxim, that, on points of little importance, men may be safely left to form their own opinions; and we should then be furnished with a theory of education WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 365 broad enough to cover the whole subject. It seems to be sometimes forgotten by men who have little ex- cuse for such imposition on themselves, that the great end of education is, in fact, to teach men to form opinions for themselves; to train them to those habits of thought and feeling which lay the mind most fairly open to argument, and secure it most perfectly against the infinite forms of error; and to do this, above all, with reference to those subjects on which knowledge, the full understanding of truth, is of greatest moment to us. They appear to imagine that there may pos- sibly be some other way of educating men than that so long practised, of bringing minds together. They forget that one mind leads another on in useful or exciting trains of thought; that comparison of ideas corrects false impressions; and that the opening of new fields of contemplation by other intellects is the main source of activity and enterprise to our own. What else is all reading and all instruction, but occa- sions of thinking and feeling to us? what but the influence of other minds, leading the way and beck- oning us to follow, it may be with unequal steps, and it may be, too, without yielding our assent to every step, but still to follow, the trains of ideas pursued by them : The hand no more traces the copy set by the writing-master, the voice no more utters the notes of music, in the lesson for the day, than the mind pur- sues the course of thought presented to it by the living instructer or the written volume. And yet in neither case does it necessarily follow that the pupil 366 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL will be an exact fac-simile of his teacher. In neither case is there any other way to learn. It seems also to be forgotten that there is really no such thing as leaving the mind to itself, if we would. Education can never be intermitted ; it is not option- al; it is not occasional. It never can be wholly so, even in solitude; for every scene of nature has a voice and an influence incessantly stealing into the mind. |Much less can it be so in society. Nothing could be imagined worse, in any system of moral education, than total neglect, the entire surrender of the youth- ful heart to the unchecked and unselected agencies of the world. Christianity is the perfection of moral science. Yet it has become a question, whether her divine influence should be allowed to mingle at all with academical instruction; whether even the records of our religious faith should not be excluded from literary institutions, and all religious services, all exercises of devotion, banished from our seats of learning. The Bible has been rejected from nearly all our primary schools; not because its sanctity may be Sullied by familiar use of it as a reading-book; not because portions of it are above the understandings of children; but because it is, in short, unsuitable to be read, -it is religious, and religion has nothing to do with schools. In the same spirit, prayer, also, is omitted, or forbidden, in these institutions. In many places, neither the reading of the Bible nor prayer could be introduced by a teacher without giving offence to the district. Difficulties of WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 367 no small consequence have actually arisen from differ- ence of opinion between the instructer and his em- ployers on this subject. Even in New England it has been proclaimed as a recommendation of certain lite- rary institutions, that they adopt no religious creed, and enjoin no religious observances; that they profess a liberality of faith and practice, which consists, in fact, in discarding religion altogether. Charters have been asked for, and granted to, institutions holding out such claims to public favor. Men, professedly belonging to Christian denominations, have urged the merits of such a system of education ; and it cannot be denied that considerable sympathy has been awak- ened for them in large portions of the community. Indeed, it is hardly unjust to New England to say that her towns are full of men, men of some preten- sions and some character, too, who suffer themselves to be led astray by this shallow Sophistry. We have seen the most magnificent university which any State in the Union has endowed, and which, in many of its features, is certainly worthy of the patriotic and high-minded men who projected it, founded expressly on the principle of the exclusion of religion, —a university conceived and carried into op- eration by no less a man than the author of the Dec- laration of Independence, the man, perhaps, whose principles and personal influence have done more than those of any other individual in promoting the popular errors at this time prevalent in the country on the subject of moral and religious institutions. In another 368 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL intelligent and patriotic State, the largest fortune which any individual has accumulated in America was lately left to endow a college, in the very metropolis of American art, from within whose walls religion is, in any and every form, expressly and for ever excluded. The genius of our age, the taste of antiquity, art, and industry, with all their resources, are to be lavished in perfecting the proportions and decorating the columns of a structure over whose threshold no minister of religion of any denomination is permitted to pass, on whose marble, classic front the proscription of Faith, Hope, and Charity is to be written with a pen of iron. As another symptom of the same feeling, it may be remarked that the clergy have been complained of, and their motives impeached, for occupying the places of instruction and discipline in our higher literary in- stitutions. The plain matter of fact has not been observed, that Christianity is, in truth, the parent of these institutions. She has fostered them with a mother’s care. In every country converted to the gos- pel, the church and the schoolhouse have risen up side by side; the light of science has mingled with the light of revelation. The torch of knowledge was carried over to our ancestors in Britain by Christian hands. The favorite work of Augustine, the apostle of England, was the famous school of Canterbury, in which most of the distinguished men of the ensuing century were educated. It was her first Christian king that gave to England a written code of laws. WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 369 It was her Christian kings that founded and refound- ed her universities. It is Christian charity that has, from age to age, endowed colleges and established fellowships in these universities, institutions which have nurtured the English mind, and sustained the English character, almost from the commencement of her civilization. In our own country, Christian zeal founded nearly all the older seminaries. Christian charity has en- dowed them. Christian minds have toiled in them. And all this, not because there has been any design, on the part of the clergy, to take possession of the keys of knowledge. They have not thus come into possession of them. They have been naturally and necessarily put forward in the work by the impulse of Christian benevolence. They are the natural al- moners of religious charity, the natural agents of that living power in the churches under their care, which has originated and sustained our institutions of learn- ing. Because the church and her clergy have, with pains and sacrifices, and sometimes in the face of persecution, succeeded in planting seminaries, and collecting libraries, and educating statesmen, lawyers, and divines, and in diffusing a taste for letters among the people, must they be reproached for usurping the places of public instruction P. What class of men have. they supplanted: Whom have they, openly or secretly, thrust out from the business of instruction P. Whom have they refused to countenance in any good thing, because he wore not their garb, and appeared not in 4.7 370 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL canonicals: Let the instance be produced in which the Christian clergy have not introduced letters and civilization with religion into the countries converted to Christ; let the case be named in which they have not been concerned in originating the institutions of learning which adorn such countries; let the case be stated in which they have not essentially promoted education by their influence in colleges and schools; and it may be admitted that they have not always merited the praise we claim for them, and claim with- out fear of refutation, — the praise of deserving to be placed foremost in our seminaries, the praise of hav- ing earned a distinction which they have certainly enjoyed. There are advantages in placing clergymen in pub- lic literary institutions. It is wise to continue them there, as well as ungrateful to deny them the right to be there. The clerical profession is better adapted than any other to fit men for sedentary, studious pur- suits. It is the profession of a public teacher; and is, therefore, eminently adapted to produce an aptness to teach, to foster those mental habits which are favora- ble to instruction. It familiarizes the mind to those aspects of human nature which awaken the deepest sympathy with the young, in their pursuits, their feelings, and their prospects. It promotes an intimate association of the employments of life and the forma- tion of character with the great moral and religious truths which are the study of the theologian, and which ought to be the basis of every system of edu- WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 371 cation. We say the basis of education, because, after all has been done which instruction can do in devel- oping the intellectual powers and storing the memory with ideas, if no permanent and efficient active prin- ciples have been awakened, if the moral sensibilities are left dormant, there is no certainty that the man will achieve any thing, or attempt any thing, or con- ceive any thing, useful to the world or honorable to himself. Nothing can counteract the strong tendency of the mind to repose and indolence, but the energy of the feelings of conscience and benevolence, of pa- triotism, of domestic love and the love of God. And it is hardly too much to say, that, under the constant impulse of these sentiments, intellect can never sleep, ingenuity, knowledge, argument, power of mind, and eloquence of manner can never be wanting. Industry, enterprise, skill, every thing great in mind, every thing noble in achievement, every thing ample and splendid in attainment, is the creation of the spirit, the moral energy, of the man. For such reasons as these, and they might be multiplied, the clerical office seems to be naturally associated with the office of instruction. Still, we do not insist that none but clergymen should be employed in our institutions of learning. There should be pains taken to prevent the formation of peculiar, partial, narrow views. It is of importance to the young to come into connection with a variety of minds, to be taught to look at subjects under the different lights which men accustomed to different pursuits and different studies throw upon them. The 372 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL several professions have each peculiar modes of thought and points of view in the contemplation of life; and it is useful and even necessary to a liberal education, that the pupil be allowed to enjoy the superintendence and example of minds somewhat various in their habits of thinking. He should not always herd with one class of men. It is, therefore, not without reason that our seminaries of learning have in them a con- siderable proportion of laymen. If it be thought that this proportion is still too small, that there is too much uniformity of character in the officers of our colleges and other institutions, or that clergymen may be more usefully employed in their more appropriate duties, let it be so. There is certainly no more grateful field of labor for men of any profession than the instruction of the young. - But to the separation of instruction from religion itself we decidedly and earnestly object. Every friend of learning, every patriot, should strenuously contend against all attempts to educate young men without moral and Christian principle. If the objection to the clergy as guardians and teachers of colleges and universities be an objection only to the clerical habit and title, or to professional peculiarities, the question is of little consequence. If the prejudice, however, be deeper, -if the hostility to clerical influence be, as there is reason to think, in many instances, nothing less than hostility to religion itself, let not an inch of ground be yielded so long as it can be maintained. The interests of liberty, of truth, of the soul, are concerned in the issue. WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 373 That the remarks already made on the disposition evinced among us to disconnect religion from educa- tion are not groundless is proved by a comparison of the facts to which allusion has been made with an- other equally well known and equally unequivocal in its import, -the fact, that ministers of the gospel are, by law, in some of the States, excluded from certain civil offices, and that, where no such disability exists, editors of public journals and multitudes of the com- munity regard the acceptance of office, or the exercise of any political influence, as inconsistent with the character and relations of the clergy, as transcending the limits of their rights and privileges. Were it a mere question of policy, of utility, of expediency, there would be, generally, but one opinion. But when any class of men are, as such, excluded from the common rights and privileges of citizens, when any office in the country is, by legislation, placed beyond their reach, it is no longer a free country, a republic, a land of equal laws. It is the tone and manner in which this subject is treated, the ground on which the objec- tion is placed, that gives it importance. These show the tendency of the public mind, and for this purpose alone are here referred to. If, because a man is a clergyman, he may not sit in a legislative assembly, nor discuss a political question, nor touch a subject that has or may be supposed to have a political bear- ing, it is important to ascertain the foundation of the objection. Before the genius of our government was seen in practice, and its consequences developed in 374, THE CONNECTION OF MORAL the various relations of life, it is not strange that men acquainted with English history were jealous of church power, and anxious to guard against the rep- etition of the scenes enacted by clerical ambition in the mother country. But certainly he has little claim to the name of politician, he has observed the course of things in this country to little purpose, who, now that a century has shown the tendency of the government, is still troubled with apprehensions of danger from the priesthood. So far from aspiring to rule and authority, they have rather occasion to grieve that they are scarcely permitted to whisper in the ear of power “of righteousness, temperance, and judg- ment to come.” We are accustomed to congratulate ourselves on the perfection of our common schools, and the general diffusion of the advantages of elementary education. It is one of the forms of our national vanity. And yet it is a remarkable fact, that we are far, very far, behind some of the monarchies of the Old World, not more in regard to the perfection of education among the privileged few, than in regard to the diffusion of it through the mass of society. We are struck with astonishment, that such speculations in literary criti- cism and philosophy as are contained in the lectures of the Schlegels should have found audiences in Wi- enna capable of listening to them with intelligence even, much more with enthusiasm. But who was pre- pared to hear, who can hear without mortification, that in the kingdom of Prussia there is in actual WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 375 operation a system of primary instruction altogether more perfect than exists in any portion of New Eng- land; a system whose advantages are absolutely uni- versal, bringing very thorough moral and religious, as well as literary, instruction within the reach of every child in the kingdom, and, in fact, compelling every family to be educated The feeling which is begin- ning to pervade France, also, may be inferred from the following remarks of Victor Cousin, in his Report to the national authorities on “the State of Public Instruction in Prussia,”—a work, by the way, which we are extremely glad to see presented to the Ameri- can reader; it is full of interest to the friends of education. The reputation of M. Cousin as a phi- losopher, and his standing in his own country, give peculiar importance to his views of moral instruction. “Without neglecting physical science,” says he, “ and the knowledge applicable to the arts of life, we must make moral science, which is of far higher im- portance, our main object. The mind and character are what a true master ought, above all, to fashion. We must lay the foundations of moral life in the souls of our young masters; and therefore we must place religious instruction — that is, to speak distinctly, Christian instruction — in the first rank in the educa- tion of our normal schools. Leaving to the curé or to the pastor of the place the care of instilling the doctrines peculiar to each communion, we must con- stitute religion a special object of instruction, which must have its place in each year of the normal course, 376 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL so that, at the end of the entire course, the young masters, without being theologians, may have a clear and precise knowledge of the history, doctrines, and, above all, the moral precepts, of Christianity. Without this, the pupils, when they become masters, would be incapable of giving any other religious instruction than the mechanical repetition of the catechism, which would be quite insufficient. I would particularly urge this point, which is the important and most delicate of all. Before we can decide on what should con- stitute a true primary normal school, we must deter- mine what ought to be the character of a simple elementary school, that is, a humble village school. The popular schools of a nation ought to be imbued with the religious spirit of that nation. Now, without going into the question of diversities of doctrine, is Christianity, or is it not, the religion of the people of France P. It cannot be denied that it is. I ask, then, Is our object to respect the religion of the people, or to destroy it? If we mean to set about destroying it, then, I allow, we ought by no means to have it taught in the people's schools. But if the object we propose to ourselves is totally different, we must teach our children that religion which civilized our fathers; that religion whose liberal spirit prepared, and can alone sustain, all the great institutions of modern times. We must also permit the clergy to fulfil their first duty, - the superintendence of religious instruction. But, in order to stand the test of this superintendence with honor, the schoolmaster must be enabled to give WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 377 adequate religious instruction; otherwise parents, in order to be sure that their children receive a good religious education, will require us to appoint eccle- siastics as schoolmasters, which, though assuredly bet- ter than having irreligious schoolmasters, would be liable to very serious objections of various kinds. The less we desire our schools to be ecclesiastical, the more ought they to be Christian. It necessarily fol- lows that there must be a course of special religious instruction in our normal schools. Religion is, in my eyes, the best—perhaps the only — basis of popular education. I know something of Europe, and never have I seen good schools where the spirit of Chris- tian charity was wanting. Primary instruction flour- ishes in three countries, Holland, Scotland, and Ger- many; in all it is profoundly religious. It is said to be so in America. The little popular instruction I ever found in Italy came from the priests. In France, with few exceptions, our best schools for the poor are those of Frères de la Doctrine Chrétienne (Brothers of the Christian Doctrine). These are facts which it is necessary to be incessantly repeating to certain per- sons. Let them go into the schools of the poor, − let them learn what patience, what resignation, are required to induce a man to persevere in so toilsome an employment. Have better nurses ever been found than those benevolent nuns who bestow on poverty all those attentions we pay to wealth P. There are things in human society which can neither be con- ceived nor accomplished without virtue, – that is to 48 378 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL say, when speaking of the mass, without religion. The schools for the middle classes may be an object of speculation; but the country schools, the miserable little schools in the South, in the West, in Brittany, in the mountains of Auvergne, and, without going so far, the lowest schools of our great cities, of Paris itself, will never hold out any adequate inducement to persons seeking a remunerating operation. There will doubtless be some philosophers, inspired with the ardent philanthropy of Saint Vincent de Paul, with- out his religious enthusiasm, who would devote them- selves to this austere vocation; but the question is not to have here and there a master. We have more than forty thousand schools to serve, and it were wise to call religion to the aid of our insufficient means, were it but for the alleviation of the pecuniary bur- dens of the nation. Either you must lavish the treas- ures of the state, and the revenues of the communes, in order to give salaries, and even pensions, to that new order of tradesmen called schoolmasters; or you must not imagine you can do without Christian char- ity, and that spirit of poverty, humility, courageous resignation, and modest dignity, which Christianity, rightly understood and wisely taught, can alone give to the teachers of the people. The more I think of all this, the more I look at the schools in this country, the more I talk with the directors of normal schools and councillors of the ministry, the more I am strength- ened in the conviction, that we must make any efforts or any sacrifices to come to a good understanding with WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 379 the clergy on the subject of popular education, and to constitute religion a special and very carefully taught branch of instruction in our primary normal schools. “I am not ignorant that this advice will grate on the ears of many persons, and that I shall be thought extremely dévot at Paris. Yet it is not from Rome, but from Berlin, that I address you. The man who holds this language to you is a philosopher, formerly disliked, and even persecuted, by the priesthood; but this philosopher has a mind too little affected by the recollection of his own insults, and is too well ac- quainted with human nature and with history, not to regard religion as an indestructible power; genuine Christianity, as a means of civilization for the people, and a necessary support for those on whom society imposes irksome and humble duties, without the slight- est prospect of fortune, without the least gratification of self-love.” If it be yet a question whether Christianity is true, it is a very grave question; the mind and labor em- ployed on it have been well employed, and centuries more, if necessary, may be wisely devoted to the investigation of it. But it is not so; the intelligence and virtue of society are on the side of the Bible. The argument for it has not been answered ; no at- tempt to answer it has been made by any man of reputation, during the last thirty years. The men, especially, who have most at stake in the fortunes of this government, who will have to bear the responsi- bility of a failure in our experiment of republican 380 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL liberty, in the judgment of the world and of posterity, are, by a countless majority, sincere believers in the Christian religion. And shall it be a question what use they are to make of this religion, in the educa- tion of their children, and in attempting to build up a literature for their country P Let me not be understood to intimate a wish to see the halls of science converted into arenas for theological polemics, and our young men engaged in the subtil- ties of metaphysical divinity, or the peculiar tenets of kindred sects. Christianity does not consist essentially in these things. The great questions of the origin of evil, “foreknowledge, fate, free-will,” must, indeed, be painfully studied by every thinking man. The mind is yet in its infancy which has not tried its strength upon them. We cannot reason or think long on any subject without encountering them. The study of our moral sentiments, of law and civil polity, all investigation of human character and the social relations, leads ultimately to these fundamental ques- tions. And it is some satisfaction to find, that, if in- quiry never succeeds in penetrating the mystery, it seldom fails to teach the much needed lesson of mod- esty and humility in the exercise of our intellectual powers. But it should be considered, that these are not properly Christian subjects; they are connected with the gospel only because they belong to all reli- gion. They are really subjects of a more general phi- losophy. They belong to our moral nature, and the universal providence of God; and are no otherwise WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 381 related to Christianity than as Christianity involves the questions of dependence and responsibility. They were earnestly and anxiously discussed before the coming of Christ, and where he was never heard of. They would continue to agitate the human mind, if the Bible were demonstrated to be false. The peculiarities of Christianity are of another kind. It explains none of the mysteries of the divine or hu- man nature ; it leaves them all as it found them. It has to do only with the moral condition of man ; it assumes his apostasy and misery here, and his respon- sibility to the Judge of the world hereafter. It is a manifestation of God in the flesh for the recovery of man to the image and favor of his Maker. Laying aside every prejudice and every feeling arising from other sources, who ever opens the Sacred Scriptures without finding associations and emotions excited within him, which no human production, no contem- plation of nature herself, no train of unaided human thought, was ever known to awaken f We seem at once transported to another world. Another firma- ment overhangs us ; we are no longer conversant with the same minds; are no longer ourselves the same beings. It is not merely that we have turned to the consideration of grave subjects. History is full of solemn scenes and solemn lessons. Philosophy has found her favorite themes in the serious and even melancholy aspects of our nature. The heart bleeds at the pictures which Pliny and Cicero have drawn of human existence. 382 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL Nor are we thus affected by the inspired volume, because it removes us, for the time, from the real world. Poetry does this. With one stroke of her wand she calls up a new creation. She speaks, and the dead arise; time and space are annihilated. She strikes her harp, and the groves and fountains, earth and air, are all instinct with life and joy. Yet how unlike to this is the transformation effected by the inspired volume ! With no careful preparation, no studied scheme of thought, no laborious process of argument, no ingenious succession of images, with the simplicity of the original command, it says again, Let there be light, and there is light. We seem to stand before God. We hear him again among the trees of the garden. We see his image on the face of nature. We perceive his finger on the springs of life. We feel the inspirations of his breath in the monitions of conscience and the impulses of holy feeling within us. Our animal nature, our earthly relations, seem to be all mere accidents of our being, the trifles of our childhood. The visions of our fancy have disappeared; the great reality is known. We are no longer without God in the world. He has come once more to his own. The love, the tender- ness, the grandeur, the glory of that coming, what tongue can tell, what heart conceive? “Scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet, peradventure, for a good man some would even dare to die; but God commendeth his love towards us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” The heart WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 383 must be petrified that is not melted. The soul is imbruted which does not feel that to be right, to be true, to be holy, to seek for glory and honor and immor- tality, is the great end and perfection of life. The sum of Christianity is contained in this revelation of Christ, and in the consequent gift of the Holy Ghost, to convince, to convert, and to sanctify. The Christian world are certainly justified in taking high ground on this subject; and I propose to suggest with a little more distinctness several reasons, to be found in the nature of the gospel itself, why its spirit should be assiduous- ly cultivated in a course of academic education. The first I have to mention is, that it is eminently a FREE SPIRIT. It is well understood by the advocates of error, that there is argument in a name. Infidelity has long challenged respect under the specious titles of liberality, philosophy, freethinking; as if the religion of the Bible were narrow, unphilosophical, slavish. Unfortunately, the history of the world and of Chris- tianity itself has given a charm to these inspiring terms, which it requires no little resolution to dissolve, even when they are obviously made the mere watch- words of a party. Under these imposing names great battles have been fought, great triumphs of principle achieved, the proudest honors of humanity gained. The revolution effected by Luther was alone sufficient to sanctify, for centuries, the venerated words inscribed on the banners of reform. It is hardly possible that men should feel so much of the foundation they had rested on shaking and crumbling away, without sus- 384 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL picion of the whole. One of the immediate results of the reformation of old abuses of the church was, nat- urally, a degree of distrust of every thing ancient and established; and, in a certain class of minds, a proud, disdainful skepticism in regard to the gospel itself, under the idea of mental liberty. Revelation was associated with the superstitions of Popery; to be a Christian and to be a Papist was, to many, the same thing, —equally servile and contemptible. Even to this day, the language of indignant liberty upon the preposterous pretensions and thorough corruption of the Roman clergy is dished up, for the thousandth time, whenever the worst passions of the worst men are to be made subservient to the purposes of dema- gogues and mountebanks. The cry of priestcraft, spiritual despotism, the union of church and state, is raised, in certain quarters, not only upon the questions of missions to the heathen, and of Sabbath mails, but even of negro emancipation, and temperance and education. We cannot attempt to free the bodies or the souls of men, without rousing the jealousy of this sensitive goddess of liberty. It is much to be regretted, that, in our own country, where the first lesson of childhood, and the latest sen- timent that falters on the lips or warms the blood of age, is love of freedom, there should have been a tacit acquiescence in this false and impudent claim, on the part of skeptics and disorganizers, to liberality of mind. It is due to Christianity, it is due to the gen- eration who are coming forward with the elastic step WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 385 of youth and full of the spirit of republican independ- ence, — it is a duty we owe to them, to maintain the declaration of the Scriptures, that “CHRIST makes free,”—“ where his spirit is, there is liberty.” A free, liberal, philosophical spirit! what is it? Not exemption from chains and fetters, that keep the body bound; it can exist alike in the air of heaven, and in the cells of a prison; under the tyranny of an Athenian populace, and of the Papal inquisition. The soul of Socrates was not shut in by the walls of his dungeon; the spirit of Galileo bowed not when he was compelled to bend his knee before the ignorant monks of Rome, and, on rising from the ground, ex- claimed, at the hazard of a second imprisonment, as he stamped his foot, “And yet it moves.” Freethinking is the natural action of the mind upon the objects of thought. Strictly speaking, so far as the mind acts at all, it necessarily acts freely; restraints upon its freedom are restraints upon its action. There is a natural relation between the in- telligent principle and truth, which cannot be con- ceived of as dissolved for a moment. It is as impos- sible not to be convinced by evidence as it is not to see with the eyes open. If nothing prevents the action of the mind upon truth, nothing can prevent the perception of truth, just so far as the mind does act on it. No two minds can differ as to the same thing. It is only in a loose, popular sense, that they are ever said to do so. The law of our mental per- ceptions is as invariable as that of external sensation. 49 386 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL The eye of one may look at objects through a differ- ent medium, or from a different point of view from that of another; but it cannot see the same thing, in the same light, differently. If it were not so, we could not reason, we could not converse together; mind could know nothing of mind. There being no common standard, there could be no common views; the spirit of the maxim, “De gustibus nil disputandum,” would be applicable to all science and all knowledge. In the operation of mind upon truth, there are, therefore, strictly, no degrees of freedom. If it act, it acts freely; if it act not freely, it acts not at all. Mental freedom, then, has reference only to causes which may prevent, or limit, mental action. These causes exist either within the mind itself, or without. If within, they are our prejudices and our passions. Undue reverence for antiquity or authority, fear, self- ishness, envy, ambition, any wrong feeling, that is, any feeling not justified by the real state of things, – by truth, – may interpose itself between the mind and truth, and, like a delusive medium of sight, distort or discolor the objects of vision. It is only when all the principles of our nature are in unison, — when the mind is not divided against itself, -that it can act itself, that is, freely, in relation to truth. Intellect and the sensitive powers, the affections and will, must harmonize in order to produce this kind of freedom. In relation to much of what we loosely denominate thought, the mind scarcely acts; it is rather acted upon, —acted for by other minds. But when it thinks, WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 387 it may be laid down as a general principle, that it will think freely and philosophically, if the conscience be, as it was designed to be, in authority over the whole man. If any prejudice or passion, national or per- sonal, bring the conscience under its influence, that is, if we have any partiality for falsehood, any interest in error, any wrong taste or inclination to indulge, “the worse will be made to appear the better reason.” In our moral judgments so many circumstances are to be regarded, so many points of observation are presented, that it is no difficult matter for a mind that is willing to be deceived to impose on itself. The best assur- ance we have of reasoning philosophically is, there- fore, the consciousness of feeling right. Look now at Christianity in relation to these re- straints upon freedom of thought. Was ever any thing so fitted to free the mind from its domestic tyrants: We find here nothing like irreverence for age, or station, or authority. A veneration almost ro- mantic for the temple and the patriarchs runs through the Old Testament and the New. Paul uttered the national feeling, when he spoke with such evident enthusiasm of the Israelites, “to whom pertaineth the adoption, and the glory, and the covenants, and the giving of the law, and the service of God, and the promises; whose are the fathers.” Yet in the Very idea of the soul, which seems to lie at the foundation of the gospel, there is something that raises the mind at once to a lofty self-respect, utterly inconsistent with servile submission to human authority. To its own 388 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL master it standeth or falleth. There is a moral sub- limity, without a parallel, in the simple, meek, honest declaration of the fishermen of Galilee to the national authorities, “WE ought To obey GoD RATHER THAN MEN.” Here was the true spirit of freedom; it was more ; it was moral heroism. And it was the natural expression of that all-pervading doctrine of the Bible by which conscience is enthroned again in the human mind; which leads a man to ask, always, what is right in the sight of God. He, who is thoroughly emancipated from every other influence, is, in the true sense, free ; free in thought and free in action. He feels that what is true is good, and good for him to know. Wherever the light of truth leads, he treads fearlessly. He may encounter reverend opinions; he may war with authorities; he may violate prejudices; but to him truth and duty and happiness are coinci- dent. Tempests may lash the ocean; the wrecks of a thousand foundered barks may be tossed in cruel mockery upon its vagrant surges; yet he starts not with fear; he confides in REASON, because he has FAITH IN GoD. The spirit of Christianity is the spirit of rectitude ; and the spirit of rectitude is twin sister to the spirit of truth, –daughters, both, of God. It is only they who like not to retain God in their knowl- edge that are given up to believe a lie. The impediments to mental freedom without exist either in the circumstances of our physical condition, or in the subjects of inquiry. These may limit the mind’s action. WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 389 When we speak of liberality in relation to these impediments, we have in mind the range and compass of thought, — the amplitude of the field of vision. The proper opposite of liberality, in this sense, is im- perfection, partiality, narrowness of views. A liberal scholar or critic is one whose reading is not confined to elementary or professional books,— to history or fiction, — to prose or poetry, - to this or that school, — to one or another age. He is one who has freed himself from the dominion of local and temporary tastes, who has escaped from the control of personal and peculiar associations, and, expanding his thoughts and sympathies to embrace the whole development of cultivated mind, has become a citizen of the world of letters. He does not cease to have predilections and associations of his own; but he has learned to set a proper value on the productions, and to make a proper allowance for the predilections and associations, of other minds differently taught and differently situated. A liberal judge of character is not confined to single acts or habits; he considers the current and complex- ion of the whole life, – the mass of a man’s principles, feelings, and actions. A liberal view of human nature is neither that of the crimes and cruelties of history, nor that of the frivolities and follies of ordinary life, nor that of the virtues and quiet enjoyments which have so sanctified and consecrated a few sunny spots on this world’s surface. He is neither an optimist, nor a satirist, nor a misanthrope. He is a MAN, whose study has been MAN. 390 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL The world is a system ; every thing is part of one great whole, and has relations to the whole, which go to make it what it really is; and nothing is fully appreciated, when considered apart from these relations. Hence, compass and correctness of view have an intimate relation to each other. To be just, our ideas must be comprehensive. Liberality and truth are commensurate. The mind is, in this sense, liberal and free, just in proportion to the largeness of its views of truth. And if we could once reach that central point where the eye commands all nature and all being at one broad sweep, then, and then only, might our freedom of thought be pronounced abso- lutely unlimited. In this respect, then, think what Christianity does for the freedom of the mind. How it struggles with the selfish principle; how it carries out the thoughts to distant objects; how it widens, and widens, and widens the circle of our contemplations and our sym- pathies, till self, and home, and country are lost in the magnificent idea of one common brotherhood among men, -one human family,–binding us to all that have lived before us and all that shall live after us! What relations to the spiritual world it unveils, implicating our existence and destiny with the existence and des- tiny of the angels, and associating our mortal life with the future history of all intelligent beings, giving to what we think and do here a bearing on the entire administration of the Almighty for ever! What a uni- verse, what an administration, what a God! No intel- WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 391 lect can grasp the infinite idea. No mind can raise itself to these contemplations, and not cease to think as a child, or to feel as a child,—not put away childish things. Again; Christianity deserves a prominent place in a course of public instruction, because it is, in fact, an essential element in a finished education. Christianity is one of the wants of the human mind; as much so as any class of ideas or emotions. The acceptance of it is not made indispensable by the authority of God; it is commanded by God, because it is indispensable to the perfection of man. It is no mere accident, no mere condition of something else. So far from it, that we cannot conceive of mental perfection without including this as the crowning ex- cellence. Without it we are not educated ; our pow- ers are not all and truly developed; the noblest part of our nature is a waste; the faculties that apprehend God, the affections that are warmed into life by the ideas of divinity, of love unmeasured, infinite, of great- ness inconceivable, – these best and holiest feelings of our moral nature are left to slumber. Without it we are neither fitted for the future nor the present. Every man sees the inimitable perfection of Jesus Christ. No decent deist denies it. It meets the demands of the conscience; it answers to our idea of man made perfect. And till we attain the con- sciousness of this perfection, we have neither peace nor self-approbation. The history of the world, apart from its relation to 392 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL the Christian religion, is the mystery of mysteries. If God has not some such design in conducting human affairs as the Bible ascribes to him, -if the present state of man is not a state of trial, of moral discipline and probation, under a dispensation of pardon and sanctifying grace, what are we, and what are we doing here If life is a trial of faith for the working out of patience and experience and hope, it is, indeed, the fittest possible for its purpose; if not, it is a per- fect enigma. Assume the existence and character of the God of revelation, and faith must, of necessity, be the vital principle of our moral being. By it we draw nigh to him, in humble adoration; by it we cling to him in adversity; by it we muse upon him, and the heart burns within us; by it he becomes to us all and in all. And such faith, it is obvious, can be produced in man only by such discipline as life affords. It could not be developed in a state of existence in which God is essentially more or essentially less known, or in which his providence is one of pure rewards or unmingled punishments. It requires just such a checkered scene as this world affords to nour- ish such a virtue as Christian faith. So, also, of the other graces of the spirit; they are the growth of this world as it is ; they could not spring up in any other soil. Shakspeare has drawn a picture of a mind endowed with all other traits save Christian principle in his masterly delineation of Hamlet, — contemplative, pro- found, all-comprehending, keenly alive to honor, to WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 393 kindness, to magnanimity; but puzzled, oppressed, wearied even to the loathing of life, by the contem- plation of events, –events which the least in the king- dom of heaven understands full well. If, then, we are to be educated to live at all, why not to live right If we are to be taught truth, why not the whole truth? Why train generation after generation to circumscribe their vision to the scenes of their childhood P Why appeal continually to mo- tives which do not become us, motives entirely false, or partial and degrading P Why assume, at the outset, in our systems of education, that there is something better to be held up to the view of youth than the truth and the whole truth in relation to their condition and prospects? Why take it for granted, that God, who has adapted the mind to the theatre in which it is to exist and act, has not so made it as to render the real circumstances in which it is placed the most efficient and most suitable motives to its exertion and development? It should be considered, that, by relying on a meaner incentive to action, we in fact exclude the influence of nobler motives. When we appeal to pride or avarice, we preclude the operation of patriot- ism or benevolence, we preoccupy the ground. Re- wards addressed to the ambition of the student, for example, take the place of the higher motives ad- dressed to his conscience, to his love of letters, to his love of God. Is there not something preposterous in the idea of opening the heart to virtuous and benevolent affections, 50 394 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL by constantly addressing and thus exercising the self- ish and wrong sensibilities? How are dormant prin- ciples of our nature ever to be awakened? Certainly not by neglecting to appeal to them, by suffering them to slumber. We might as reasonably hope to recover the strength of an enfeebled limb by entirely disus- ing it. The bad passions of a child are cultivated by presenting occasions of indulging them. His better feelings are strengthened in the same way. The great precept of education should be, to make use of all the means we have to bring out the best feelings, the best mental action;–it should be, to press upon the attention those objects, and those mainly, which naturally cherish and strengthen these feelings. The best feelings are, of course, the feelings which most become our true condition; and the ob- jects which naturally produce these feelings are the objects which make that condition what it is, – the objects with which we stand connected as intelligent, moral, social, immortal beings. Any view of life which overlooks important relations of the human mind, especially its all-important spiritual and etermal relations, is something less, infinitely less, than the truth, and cannot be wisely or safely made the foun- dation of a system of education. In this view, it is worthy of a serious consideration how far the motives held out to diligence and success in study are justified by a truly Christian philosophy. The practice of appealing to emulation, the pride of superiority, has, it is true, been encouraged by the WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 395 * approbation of nearly all the great and good men who have had the conduct of our institutions of learning. It is but carrying the motives which stimulate men in real life into the scenes of academical instruction. But though it may be true, that, in so doing, we are only applying the incentives to literary enterprise and industry by which most of the energy and perfection of talent in the world are produced, may it not never- theless be wrong? Ought the conductors of educa- tion to take for granted, that men are, in fact, actuated by the best principles in real life P Do we not, on the contrary, feel assured that nothing is so desirable as the production of a higher and purer ambition in the leading members of society P− that nothing is so important to the present generation and to pos- terity as the prevalence of Christian motives among literary men, the sanctification, as we may say, of genius P. To train up a child in the way those who have already become men actually go is not to follow the counsels of divine wisdom. So long as men are educated to make money merely, to attain to office, to distinguish themselves, they may, indeed, be taught to do these things. But they are neither of them, nor all together, the end of life. And in being made ends at all, they necessarily take the place of the true and higher objects of our being. Under such a system of motives alone the very best character cannot be produced. And though the pupil may be told that there are higher, purer, nobler objects, of what avail can it be, so long as he 396 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL is really induced to exert himself, and that, too, by the very same instructer, for entirely different and even opposite ends? What must a child think of the con- sistency or sincerity of the parent who calls on him to glorify God, or to do good to men, in an act which, at the very same time, he urges by an appeal to the love of praise or the fear of the lash P It is not pretended that this subject is clear of em- barrassments. It is not doubted that inferior motives may be employed to strengthen the superior ones. The splendor of the Jewish ritual was, doubtless, intended to attract men to the worship of Jehovah, and to attach them to that worship, though ever so great veneration for the temple and its service was not devotion to God. Filial obedience may be en- forced by the rod, when other considerations fail to secure it. Right action, in the absence of right mo- tive, is better than no action; because habits of acting right have a tendency to produce habits of feeling right, just as habits of feeling right produce right action. There is a reciprocal influence between feel- ing and action, between mind and body. A child compelled to obey is more likely afterwards to obey from choice than if left to disobey. A man induced to worship God in form, by the attractions of the place of worship, is more likely afterwards to worship God in truth than if he had worshipped neither in spirit nor in form before. Yet it is certainly reasonable to suppose, it must be admitted as a great principle, that men are to be WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 397 prepared for future life and for eternity by keeping life and etermity before them. To assert that such views cannot be expected to affect young minds is to determine, a priori, a question not yet well settled by fair experiment. What seminary has duly tried it? Suppose the attempt should not in all cases succeed. Grant that in a majority of cases, even, it must fail. On how large a portion of young men have the re- wards now offered to industry any decidedly useful effect? What numbers distinguished at college go out, on leaving their Alma Mater, like a candle in bad air! Who afterwards hears of a large part of those who graduate with the highest honors of their class P The love of letters never dies; the zeal of benevo- lence is imperishable; the industry of love is patient unto death. Instead, then, of treating things which we feel to be above all important with comparative neglect, let the experiment be made of assuming at once and always that a child or youth will feel most what is most worthy to be felt. Let us not fear to show him what God has made him, and for what God has made him. It seems to the writer, that, even if we would, we cannot now forego the advantages of a strictly reli- gious education. It is too late. There is nothing else left to lean upon. The old foundations are broken up. Old institutions, and customs, and prejudices are dead. There is little reverence for authority, or age, or forms. The day has come in which there seems to be no medium between force and persuasion. Usage, 398 THE CONNECTION OF MORAL habit, once held a sort of middle place between power and conviction. It is so no longer. Constitutions and laws have no influence now any further than they are regarded from the force of feelings and principles of action, which may be almost said to render law un- necessary. All the devices of men have failed. It remains to make an experiment of divine truth. We seem driven to rely, as our last hope, on the power of the gospel of Christ. If we find here a conservative principle, well; if not, there is none anywhere. The restless, licentious spirit, the spirit of selfishness and indulgence, which infects society and burns unsmoth- ered in the bosoms of our young men, especially in all the villages and towns of New England, and still more in other parts of the land, threatens to involve every thing dear to us in ruin. The nation seems to have at length arisen, and the time arrived, in which Christianity is to wage an open war with the giant power of unchained sin. She has contended with kings, and overcome them. She has fought with superstition and barbarism, and they fled before her. She has been training herself for another and the last conflict, the conflict with unsanctified liberty. Here, in free America, is the field of this war. On the one side is divine truth, unencumbered with establishments and forms, in its intelligence and simplicity, confident in itself and full of faith in God; on the other, the fierce democracy of mind, in its pride scorning alike the opinions of men and the authority of Jehovah. Terrible will be WITH INTELLECTUAL CULTIVATION. 399 the struggle; and, it may be, victory for a long time doubtful. But when this triumph of truth is achieved, it will be final and eternal. Liberty will then pay homage to religion, and both bow down together be- fore God. D IS C. O U R S E DELIVERED AT HANOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE, MAY 7, 1841, ON THE OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON, LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. DEATH is the great event of life. It is the common and inevitable lot. No creature is exempt from it. Every organized being, even to the unconscious tribes of the vegetable world, returns, by an irresistible law, to the dust out of which it was made. But, of all the dwellers upon the earth, man alone is permitted to know this law; to him only it is given to think upon this universal fate; he alone anticipates his end. To other animals, the most sagacious and intelligent, and endued with instincts in some respects superior to reason itself, death comes always unlooked for. The fear of it and the idea of it are the mel- ancholy privilege of the most favored of God's earthly CreatureS. To him the event is never indifferent. To what- soever living thing it comes, it wears a serious aspect, and awakens sad associations. He does not look even upon the dying year without depression. The fading flowers and falling leaves are the natural em- blems of the gloom and sorrow of his inward life. DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF HARRISON. 401 To the least cultivated the cessation of our animal existence is matter of thoughtful contemplation. To the deepest read in the attributes and destinies of our race it is a fearful and exciting mystery. The dis- solution of this curious and wonderful fabric ; the separation of the thinking principle from all material organization; the closing up all known channels of intercourse with material things; the sundering of the social ties; the extinction of endearing and kind offices; the termination of our earthly duties and re- sponsibilities; and, more than all besides, the entrance of another intelligent moral being upon the scenes of an eternal state, – these are considerations which give interest and moment to every human death. These are the reasons which draw us so irresistibly to the house of mourning, and attach such sacredness to the last offices we pay to the deceased. These are the causes which spread its profound and mysterious expression over the face of the dead, and hallow the place where we lay them. It is for these reasons, that, on occasions like the present, we pause even from personal and party strife to indulge in humane sentiments and common sym- pathies. For these reasons death hushes, for a mo- ment at least, our noisy contention for the unsubstan- tial objects of this life, and soothes the animosities which have been engendered by mutual complaint and recrimination. He is something less than man, and more to be distrusted and despised than any man, who can look upon a fallen antagonist, even though 51 402 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH he were a personal foe, without a tear, and insult, with impotent revenge, the pale, unconscious piece of earth that lies low before him. It is grateful to know that the American people are not capable of this unnatural malignity. It is delight- ful to see that the great stroke of Providence, which has bereft the nation of its chief magistrate, is felt as a national wound, lamented as a common calamity. It does relieve, somewhat, the fears of the friends of democratic liberty, to witness the spontaneous and full utterance of a common grief, on this occasion, by parties so lately irritated to frenzy by an acrimonious political contest. Dejected patriotism will lift up her head again, and reassure herself, by these cheerful omens, that the public heart is still true, and that, in our fond estimation, it is something more to be an American than to be of any party, something higher and better to be a MAN than to be of any nation or tribe under heaven. Death mighty, mysterious event How little we know of it! It stands at our door; it comes into our houses; to our very beds; it takes away friend after friend from our bosoms and in our sight. Yet, how unfamiliar, to the last, the too, too frequent guest! how strange, even as at the first, those well remem- bered features 1 End, at once, and beginning of life Period of final separation between all we love or know in this beautiful world, and the untried, the wondrous future | Point of fearful and amazing in- terest, to which converge all the incidents of life and OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 403 the tendencies of nature, and from which diverge the events and destinies of an endless being ! Ah how many myriads of anxious men have pondered on the closing scene, and longed and prayed for one glance beyond. The Son of God hath brought the fact and the way of life and immortality to light; but the mystery of the great change is not explained by the gospel. The same revelation which assures us that our affections and sensibilities are to be perpetuated in eternity assures us, also, that “in heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage ; but are as the angels of God, which are in heaven.” To death we cannot look forward with uncon- cern. No man can think of meeting it carelessly, or without preparation. Its import is too grave and weighty; its consequences too lasting and momen- tous. One might wish, indeed, to shun the corporal pang, — the pain of dying, — the undescribed anguish of the last conflict. And we sometimes idly covet the fate of those whom death surprises, and, by an unfelt blow, summons from the midst of life, without opportunity to suffer or to fear. But, upon second thought, who would not choose to be forewarned P Who would consent to be precipitated upon eternal Scenes ; to take no leave of life, – no deliberate fare- well of the cheerful sun, and thoughtful moon, and patient earth; to forego the last embrace of those we love, – the longing, lingering look of departing affec- tion? Who would lose the opportunity of his latest hour for assuring himself of peace with Heaven, and 404 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH preparation for the limitless and awful future ? It is one of the great common mercies of Providence, that we are brought down to the grave by lingering dis- ease. Wearisome days and nights of pain are ap- pointed unto us in mercy. When one of the lowliest of men dies, there is a serious vacancy produced. The wound is deep, and long felt. The world is not interested in the change; yet how great the change is! The condition of a human family, the circle within which occur most of the events that give happiness or misery to life, is for ever and essentially altered. New relations are instituted; new dependencies are thenceforth to be felt; new responsibilities to arise; new forms of char- acter to be assumed. Long cherished affections are ruptured; accustomed pursuits are laid aside; settled purposes are broken off. To a whole household, life has become another thing; the world is to be viewed by them in a new light, and lived in with new feel- ings. The loss is sensible; and it is irreparable. Friendship may administer its sympathies to the des- olate bosom; and they are sweet to the mourning heart. Providence may be gracious still ; our fields may smile, and our enterprises may prosper. But for violated love there is no reparation. The dead will return no more ; his place is not to be supplied. The victories of death are permanent; its monuments never decay or moulder. Even when a great man dies, the most poignant grief is not public. The bitterest sighs are heaved OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 405 and the most scalding tears are shed in private. Even now, while a nation is clad in mourning for the hero and the statesman, and the parade and circumstance of public sorrow present an imposing and engrossing spectacle to all eyes, there is a mansion on the banks of the Ohio where the names of General and Presi- dent are not mentioned. The sorrows that darken that house are the sorrows which bereaved woman always feels; the tears that are shed there are such as crushed affection everywhere sheds. It is nothing to her who sits a widow in that vacant home, that the warrior and the politician is called from the scene of his triumphs. It is little to her that a new govern- ment is deprived of its head, a great people of a favorite ruler. Her lamentation is for the husband of her youth and the father of her children. It is the bitterness of her cup, that the vacant place at her table, and at her fireside, and on her couch of rest, will never, never more be filled; that henceforth her way is to be solitary, and her heart lonely. To her, life is ended before the time. Such is death always. But when one of the gifted is taken away, it is a public calamity. A great man belongs to his people. He is a public possession, – part of a nation’s capital, strength, and honor. A comprehensive intellect, a beautiful imagination, supe- rior activity and energy, sublime principle, in which the heart of a nation may trust, magnanimity and enterprise capable of inspiring and sustaining popular enthusiasm, mind to dignify, adorn, and perpetuate,< 406 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH what has a people so precious, so sacred P What should a community so prize and cherish P In whatever department of honorable industry such mind discovers itself, it is above all price. Be it in philosophy, secluding itself and wearying the hours in the study of truth ; or in art, disciplining itself, and raising itself up, in the fond hope of realizing in marble, or on canvass, or in the more enduring forms of language, the features of beauty, which it has dimly conceived in its favored moments; or be it in elo- quence, or policy, or action, — wherever more than ordinary intellect, or taste, or goodness, shows itself, there is some part of a nation’s greatness, there, one of the gems of its future crown. Without such mind it may possibly exist, may vegetate, upon the earth; but the frosts of the first winter will scorch every green thing, and the winds will blow it away. Noth- ing of all a people's treasures is imperishable but its great minds. Nothing but the genius and virtue of its noble sons can bind it to the family of illustrious nations, or link its history to the series of renowned ages. And when the men to whom it owes its place and its hopes are removed by death, it is proper to mourn. The tears of a whole people are a fit tribute to departed greatness. The treasure was public; the loss is public, too. And in proportion as it is great, it is also irreparable. A great man may make an age, may be himself the age. In the death of the late President Harrison we have not been called to lament the premature departure of OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 407 a man of genius, a discoverer in science, a national orator or poet. Though raised to the highest civil office in the gift of a great people, he was not, per- haps, a disciplined and studied politician. With the exception of the ever green honors won by him in the late war with England and her savage allies, there is not, that I know, any passage of remarkable splendor in his career. Nor had he, probably, any single trait of character so prominent and peculiar as to distin- guish him; much less, the age to which he belongs. His intellect was, undoubtedly, sound and clear; his education the best which his native State afforded in his time, classical, substantial, and varied; his military and civil history marked by uniform good judgment and generosity. In a succession of difficult and re- sponsible offices, through a long course of public ser- vice, he commanded entire confidence, and received the most unequivocal testimonials of enthusiastic ap- probation. He never lost a battle; and never violated a trust. His policy was wise and liberal; his exercise of power beneficent and honorable. Though distin- guished for energy and determination, decision and authority were so tempered in him by justice and mildness, that it was common to hear him spoken of in public documents, as well as private conversation, as the “beloved Harrison.” And yet, when compared, as his ultimate elevation leads us to compare him, with men of the very highest order of mind, we do not find him characterized by singular and splendid individual traits. He belongs 4.08 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH rather to the order of the good than of the great, — the order of perfection, rather than of genius, – the order of Washington and Alfred, men so proportioned, so balanced, so right, so uniform, so beautiful in their whole conformation and development, that we are almost equally at a loss what in particular to com- plain of or to admire. Genius is rare; but not so rare as this happy, equal development. Caesar was mighty; but “Caesar was ambitious.” Alexander conquered the world; but he died at a drunken feast. Elizabeth was great. In an age of excited intellect and chivalrous adventure, of heated political and religious controversy, the tu- mult of contending sects was hushed by a woman’s voice, and, for fifty years, the boldest and most rest- less spirits of England were led by a virgin hand. But Elizabeth has left us in doubt which most to wonder at, the greatness of her power, or the littleness of her revenge. Bonaparte was a man of genius, of vast comprehension and high conception; but the emperor of France took from his bosom the most beautiful of women and the loveliest of wives, and sacrificed her on the altar of his pride. Demosthenes was an orator and a statesman; but the deliverer of Athens accepted a bribe. Cicero was a philosopher and a gifted man; but, the child and eloquent friend of the republic, he hesitated in his preference between contending tyrants, and died with the reputation of a coward. Bacon, the father of modern science, is characterized by Pope as “The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind.” OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 409 History is full of splendid greatness, striking dem- onstrations of power, of heroism, of imagination, of reason, of generosity, of patriotism. But a perfect man history hath not found. Those who have come anywise near to our idea of true greatness are ex- ceeding rare. Bonaparte's test of greatness is said to have been, “What has the man done ** If our lamented chief magistrate be tried by this standard, history will do him honor. He was born in Virginia in 1773; was educated at Hampden-Sidney College ; and entered on the study of medicine. At the age of nineteen, he re- ceived his first military commission under Washington. He distinguished himself as a soldier in numerous Indian campaigns; and particularly at Tippecanoe in 1811, and at the Thames in 1813, in which celebrat- ed battles he led our troops to victory. At the age of twenty-three, he was chosen a delegate to Con- gress for the Northwest Territory, including Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and Upper Louisiana. At twenty- seven, he was appointed governor of that Territory. This office he held twelve years. In 1816, he was chosen a representative in Congress; and in 1824, a Senator of the United States. In 1828, he went as minister to Colombia. He was also, repeatedly, In- dian commissioner. Thus from the age of nineteen to that of fifty-six he was in the public service, almost without interruption. In his military career, although, during the late war, 52 410 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH he was engaged in more battles than any other gen- eral officer, he never suffered a defeat, and was never guilty of a tyrannical, cruel, or ungenerous deed. A wounded British officer, a prisoner in his camp, com- plained to him that the Americans refused him a bed. “Ah!” said he, “you shall have mine”; and immedi- ately sent him his blanket, the only bed he had, and his saddle for a pillow. The same generous heart was manifested, after his elevation to power, in his treat- ment of a worn-out son of the sea, with whom he had formed an intimate acquaintance some years before. The true-hearted tar, now old and reduced to pov- erty, called at the president’s house, in Washington, and was known still ; was urged to partake of the hospitalities of the splendid mansion; was seen walk- ing arm in arm with the president about his grounds; and, when he left the kind seat of power, carried with him to the collector of the port of New York a letter of recommendation which immediately procured for him the office of inspector of the customs. While in Congress, General Harrison had the lib- erality to devise, and the energy to carry through, the system, in reference to the sale of the public lands, by which those lands have since been sold to settlers in small farms of six hundred and forty or three hun- dred and twenty acres, instead of four thousand acres; and thus the poor and industrious emigrant relieved from the exactions of the capitalist and speculator. To this measure, in a great degree, has been ascribed the rapid settlement and growth of the whole Western country. OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 411 As governor of the Northwest Territory, he ex- ercised a more unlimited authority than any other individual has possessed under the Constitution. In him were vested, at once, the legislative, the judicial, and the military power, with advantages for the ad- vancement of his own private interests unequalled in the country. Yet he laid down that authority, unen- riched, and unstained by an unjust, selfish, or mean aCt. As Indian commissioner, he negotiated a great num- ber of treaties, highly advantageous to the United States, and without incurring the charge, or suspi- cion, of fraud, or oppression, or injustice, in his in- tercourse with the Indian tribes. Fifty-one millions of acres, including the richest mineral region in the Union, were procured by him in a single treaty. At a time of unexampled party excitement and party jealousy, he united in himself a more unani- mous and cordial popular vote than any other states- man of the age would, probably, have been able to command; and came into power as independent, and as little shackled by obligations and promises, person- al or local, as any president since Washington. In the heat of the late contest, no grave charge was se- riously made against his personal character. The crime of being an old man was nearly all that was laid to him. And now that he is dead, there is al- most no dissent from the general attestation of a be- reaved people to the integrity of the statesman, the Valor of the warrior, and the simplicity and noble- ness of the man. 412 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH There is one feature in the character of the illus- trious man whose loss we deplore, which has already attracted much public attention, and which can hardly fail to appear the more worthy of regard, the more it is considered. I refer to the moral and religious light which invests his eminent intellectual and active qualities. The personal incidents which his decease has al- ready been the occasion of bringing before the coun- try, all together, present, perhaps, the most remarka- ble instance of decided evangelical principle which has dignified the office of chief magistrate of the United States. On these facts in his biography it is grateful and wholesome to dwell. They teach, I may almost say, a new lesson to the American people. Most certainly, if not wholly new, the lesson they teach derives a peculiar value from the singular circumstances in which it has been taught. The example of sound principle and fearless piety in a period of inordinate personal ambition, of self- ishness, and carelessness of right and responsibility, is useful and admirable in exact proportion as it is difficult; and the more useful and the more admirable, the higher the station which it adorns. A more perfect acquaintance with the history of the man will, doubtless, discover additional materials for the full display of his religious character. Enough, however, is known, to leave no doubt, that, in his pre- mature death, the country has lost one of its best OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 413 models of a Roman severity of manners and a Chris- tian spirituality of mind. He was a believer in the inspiration and authority of the Bible. It was observed, that, during the pres- sure of public cares, at the commencement of his government, he neglected not to read a portion of the Scriptures daily. It has been asserted since his de- cease, that, for twenty years, this had been his inva- riable practice. On taking possession of the execu- tive mansion, finding no copy of the Bible in the house, he immediately purchased one ; and remarked to some friend, that, out of the first appropriation for the president’s house, he would buy the best copy of the Bible he could find, and inscribe upon it, “To the President of the United States from the People of the United States.” Before his election, and even up to the time of his leaving Cincinnati, he was a teacher in the Sabbath school connected with his place of worship. This school he sometimes assembled and addressed. After his removal to Washington, this anecdote is related of him. In his last out-of-door exercise he is said to have been engaged in giving directions to his gar- dener about training some vines. The gardener sug- gested the necessity of procuring an active watch-dog to take care of the grapes, or the boys would come, while the family were at church, and steal them. “Better,” said the general, “employ an active Sabbath school teacher. A dog may take care of the grapes; but a good Sabbath school teacher will take care of the grapes and the boys too.” 414 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH This illustrious man regarded the holy Sabbath. He was, in the West, a constant attendant on divine worship. His house was open to the Christian min- ister and missionary. In the capital he continued true to himself, and devoted the sacred day to its appropriate duties. A fact is related of him, in this respect, which places him, in simple Christian dignity, by the side of Sir Matthew Hale and Sir William Jones; and shows that the heroic spirit which won for him the martial laurels which crowned his brow was not the inspiration of the tented field, or the im- pulse of a frenzied moment, but an inward principle, an original element of his nature. The first Sabbath after his removal to the execu- tive mansion, it has been said, political men called upon him as usual. He remarked to his family, that “Sunday visiting must be broken up.” On the fol- lowing Lord’s day, some of the foreign ministers called, and he was denied to them. On the same day, certain political friends came in. He sat for a while, and then, courteously addressing them, said, “Gentlemen, I shall always be glad to see you, except upon the Sabbath day,” and immediately retired to his private apartments, leaving them to be entertained by other members of his family. In the same inde- pendent spirit he said to a young officer, who appeared at his levee evidently intoxicated, “Sir, I am sorry to see you here, or any man in your condition.” A few years before his decease, an unusual interest was awakened on the subject of experimental religion OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 4.15 in his vicinity. He openly manifested his personal concern on the great and interesting subject; and from that time added to the virtues of the warrior and the statesman the higher titles of a soldier of the cross and a citizen of Zion. He was to have united with one of the churches in Washington and partaken of the Holy Communion, on the Sabbath following that on which he died. Happy, happy for him, when that blessed day dawned, to have been drinking of the fruit of the vine, new, with Christ, in the kingdom of his Father He had enjoyed the privilege of a religious educa- tion from a most pious mother. On a recent visit to the place of his birth, he pointed out to his friends, with evident delight, “his mother's room,” the closet to which she used to retire for her private devotions, the very spot where she used to sit reading her Bible, and where she taught him, in childhood, to pray on his knees, – a practice from which he departed not when he was old. Of a piece with all these private incidents are the sentiments so distinctly and prominently expressed in the Inaugural Address. “However strong may be my present purpose to realize the expectation of a magnanimous and confiding people, I too well under- stand the infirmities of human nature and the danger- ous temptations to which I shall be exposed from the magnitude of the power which it has been the pleas- ure of the people to commit to my hands, not to place my chief confidence upon the aid of that almighty 416 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH Power which has hitherto protected me, and enabled me to bring to favorable issues other important, but still greatly inferior, trusts heretofore confided to me by my country.” “I deem the present occasion suffi- ciently important and solemn to justify me in express- ing to my fellow-citizens a profound reverence for the Christian religion, and a thorough conviction that sound moral and religious liberty and a just sense of religious responsibility are essentially connected with all true and lasting happiness; and to that good Be- ing who has blessed us by the gifts of civil and reli- gious freedom, who watched over and prospered the labors of our fathers, and has hitherto preserved to us institutions far exceeding in excellence those of any other people, let us unite in fervently commend- ing every interest of our beloved country in all future time.” Such was the man we mourn. Personal popularity raised him to the lofty eminence which personal merit adorned and dignified. The circumstances of his death are of that class which sometimes give to real history an air of ro- mance and a pathos beyond the power of imagination itself to equal. The hero and politician had, twelve years before, retired from the scenes of public life to his quiet farm- house on the Ohio, to repose, at last, from a life of hazard and responsibility longer and more eventful than falls to the lot of most men. There, without a dream of future honors, or a thought of higher duties, OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 417 he was personally tilling his humble acres, in a humble garb, by day, and resting by night in slumbers which no care disturbed. By an unexpected turn of events, his name was mentioned among the candidates for the first office in his country. As if there had been some magic in the sound, the hero of Tippecanoe, the farmer of North Bend, and the good man of the West rose on the breath of popular enthusiasm, as on the bosom of a swelling sea, to the sublime height of power. Enthroned in the affections of millions, and robed in authority, he had just time to publish his principles of administration, and collect his cabi- net around him; and, at the very moment of his tri- umph, while an expectant and confiding people were yet gazing on the new spectacle, touched by death, he melted away, like a snow-flake in the sun. Within one brief month was he conducted by exulting mul- titudes, with paeans and floating banners, to the sum- mit of earthly ambition, and, by the same multitudes, in weeds and tears, borne down to the lowly and dark house appointed for all the living. Power, empire, glory ! What are ye all! O, there are moments when the offices and honors of this world appear like the bright exhalations of a sum- mer's morning, — as unsubstantial and as transient. And yet it is a noble life to live. There is a true greatness, – real and imperishable. The man dies. But there are greater objects than to live. It is not all of life to live. The fame of honorable deeds is a perennial beneficence. The consciousness of high 53 4.18 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH and pure aims, the memory of worthy actions,— over these death hath no power. To the mere politician a fall so sudden from so high an elevation must appear to be either an accident in a world of chances, or a mystery in the inscrutable providence of God. The considerate Christian will study to discover the design of Heaven in the salutary influences of the event; and will feel assured, that, more or less remotely, consequences are connected with it, which, could we foresee them, would constrain us to acknowledge that the good man was as happy in the time of his death as he had been fortunate in the career of life, – like Agricola, “felia non tantum vita, claritate, sed etiam opportunitate mortis.” There are periods in the history of nations, as well as individuals, when some startling moral phenomenon seems to be needed to arrest attention and compel reflection. The public mind is at times infatuated and reckless in ambitious or selfish pursuits; the pas- sions suffer no restraint. At such times, a moral mira- cle is necessary to hush the troubled sea, and restore the disordered elements to their wonted action. Such, may we not hope, will be the effect of this signal interposition of Heaven P. Never had party ani- mosities been more virulent; never was personal am- bition more aspiring, or more general, in the country. The good man was beginning to weep at the public morals; and the patriot, to sigh at the prospects of liberty. In an instant, as it were, the favorite leader of a successful party, at the very moment of commenc- OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 419 ing his administration, is arrested by death. The shock may well cause the statesmen who stood around him to pause and estimate anew the objects to which they aspire, and the ends for which they live. Me- thinks, the great men, who, full of professional and civil honors, had just received their highest distinc- tion from his hand, have been taught a lesson too impressive to be soon forgotten. At the bed-side of their dying chief, and in the tomb to which, with un- covered heads and reverent step, they bore his uncon- scious remains, how impotent must have seemed the mightiest intellect; how empty and vain the proudest earthly distinctions; how precious, above all price, that charity which “seeketh not its own,” and which “never faileth " ' The great event must impress contending and exas- perated partisans with the littleness of the interests which divide and embitter them, in comparison with those higher and better interests which belong to us all as men and as candidates for other scenes in other states of being. It seems to me, we do already see a milder and gentler tone in the public journals, and in the political intercourse of life. Let us fervently pray that the admonition may be felt. Let us sup- plicate the God of our fathers, that the beautiful Christian lessons left as a legacy to his countrymen by the lamented Harrison may be listened to and cherished, may be bound up in the same volume with the moral wisdom of Washington, and make a part of the American statesman's manual. 420 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH To young men, especially to young men who have chosen for themselves the sphere of civil life, the his- tory of the departed statesman is full of instruction. The great lesson which his life most strikingly en- forces, expressed with something of aphoristic brevity, is this, – “Do well, and wait.” “Confidence,” said the Earl of Chatham, “is a plant of slow growth.” And so is the merit by which confidence is won. The greatest of all mistakes, at the outset of life, is the mistake of presuming on the favor of mankind without earning it. To youth the world will pardon much. Its indiscretions and obliquities are overlooked with surprising charity. But youth soon passes away; and with it passes away, also, the lenity of judgment, the kind allowance, with which its errors and follies are regarded. The man is measured by a severer stand- ard, and awards are meted out to him on sterner principles. The high posts, the permanent distinctions of life, its great prizes, are all purchased by weary years of toil. It is true, in a country like ours, the patient cultivator of himself, the diligent student of the abstruser and less inviting principles of things, may be sometimes outrun and distanced by nimbler, more bustling, and less scrupulous spirits. But let him consider, that, whilst the monarch of the forest is slowly maturing to his noble stature, generation after generation of the grasses and weeds that shaded his infancy wither and rot at his foot. In a quarter of a century many shining names grow dim, many budding honors are blighted. But one man in a hun- OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 421 dred lives to come to any thing. We are too anxious to reap before we sow. “The husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long pa- tience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain.” The objects which young men propose to themselves can hardly be too great; but they may be too near. Impatience is the sin of youth. Unity and steadiness of pursuit are the true secret of ultimate SUlCCéSS. It is, however, an animating thought, to the man of patient, iron industry, that, if its great rewards must all be earned, they are seldom withheld. The market seems sometimes overstocked; and a young man's spirit sinks within him at the thought of so many to contend with, and so little to be divided among them all. But the rarest thing in the world is character, the growth of personal pains and sacri- fices and trials. Every place and every calling wants it. It is never seen begging bread. Any price will be paid for it. These principles are strongly enforced by the ex- ample of General Harrison. At a late period of life, unambitious and retired from public observation, he Was sought out, and solicited to accept the first office in his country. A man was wanted to concentrate public sentiment, to inspire general confidence. The able statesmen, the great orators, of the time were all Passed by ; and Cincinnatus was again called from the plough. That he had always done well whatever he had done, and aimed uniformly to perfect himself, was his title to office. 422 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH The melancholy death of the president is not less instructive than his life. It is, in itself, a beautiful spectacle. It possesses a moral grandeur. “A Chris- tian is the highest style of man.” And yet, a Chris- tian statesman, a Christian prince, bearing the ensigns of power with the simplicity and meekness of a dis- ciple of Jesus, is almost too rare not to be singular, even in a Christian nation and in a religious age. When such a one dies, full of honors, and of hopes that seek their objects, where he sought his principles, in God, how it raises our idea of life and of man! As there is nothing so painful to think of as a gifted in- tellect, a generous heart, which has dignified human honors and ennobled human offices, passing off from this scene of action “without God and without hope,” so there is nothing so worthy of the earnest contem- plation of young men as that regenerate and finished character, in which this intellectual being, the thoughts that wander through eternity,” sanctified by faith and hope and charity. To be a man is something, — to be the humblest of God’s ra- are all informed and tional children. To be great among men, and capable of greatness beyond an angel’s comprehension, — the heart leaps at the thought. And next akin to great- ness and goodness itself is the feeling of reverence for the great and the good. Veneration is at once an element and a means of true nobility. There is also a lesson worthy of profound regard in the sentiments of our common nature which such a death calls forth, as well as in the death itself. OF PRESIDENT HARRISON. 423 When a human creature is about to die, we feel that the proper subject of his last thoughts is his own preparation for the great change. When a neighbour has expired, our first anxiety is to know how he died; the natural inquiry is, with what feelings he met the inevitable doom. These are the topics that engage the conversation of those who ministered to him in his extremity, and of those who assemble to commit his remains, with decency and honor, to the grave. The last expressions of a deceased friend are treasured up, and repeated with never ceasing fondness. With the dying words of her son, the bereaved mother daily opens afresh the fountain of her tears. These dying words are carried by careful messengers, with inviola- ble fidelity, over seas and continents, as priceless rel- ics to surviving love. When the great heart of our revered chief magis- trate ceased to beat, how spontaneously this natural, universal feeling burst forth ! With what earnestness the ministers of state and the humblest citizens alike turned, in their bereavement, to the closing scene of the good man’s life, to gather consolation and hope from the professions of that honest hour ! How anx- iously the pulpit and the press collected every frag- ment of his public documents, or his private conver- sations, which could throw any new light on his reli- gious principles, or the feelings with which he suffered and died When his sacred remains were lying in state, composed for the final rites which affection pays to the dead, there was laid on his coffin, by the side 424 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF HARRISON. of the sword which the hero was wont to bear, the Bible which the president was accustomed to read. It was proper; it was natural. It is not improbable it may have been placed there by hands to which the holy book is not familiar, under the influence of that instinctive feeling of propriety which leads us all un- consciously, on such occasions, to bear testimony to the great truths of our religion. These truths are not written on parchment alone. They are engraved deep upon the human heart. The written word has a counterpart in our own bosoms. “An undevout astronomer is mad,” and unchristian greatness is a solecism. Let the candidate for honor, let the young aspirant for venerable power, remember always, let him lay it down as a first truth, that HE ONLY IS GREAT who FEARs GoD AND KEEPS HIS COMMANDMENTS. E U L O G Y ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D., LATE PROFESSOR OF THE THEORY AND PRACTICE OF PHYSIC, AND OF INTELLECTUAL PHILOSO- PHY, IN DARTMOUTH COLLEGE, DELIVERED IN THE COLLEGE CHAPEL, IN OCTOBER, 1842. A scholar’s life has few events. And the liberal professions, though more or less active, may be said, in the sense of the term as applied to civil and mili- tary history, to afford no incidents. They are not, however, therefore devoid of interest. The germina- tion and growth of character, the progress of opinion, the conception and development of new truths, or new forms of beauty, the history and power of thought, are always studied with attention. They are, indeed, not the least part of what engages us in the public man. No portion of the career of the late emperor of France excited a profounder admiration than the private THoughts of his last days. Never did he appear in a sublimer position than in drawing the contrast of his own empire and that of Charle- magne with the empire of Jesus Christ, — the empire of force with the empire of love; the one crumbling to ashes in the hands that held it, — the other sub- sisting, in the hearts of men, for ever. The chang- es that take place within the man are sometimes of 54 426 EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. higher moment, and command a more excited atten- tion, than those which he produces around him. The efforts of mind; its struggles with difficulty and destiny; the triumphs and reverses of a great heart; patience and toil sustained by faith and love, without the countenance of power or the comforts of affection; the desperate enterprise, and fearful wreck of unregu- lated genius; — there are no more engrossing specta- cles in human life. The profession of the law exhibits features as re- markable, if not as brilliant, as that of arms. There is something in the conflict of powerful, well furnished minds upon the great questions of right and responsi- bility among men, questions on which great interests and life itself are pending, that resembles those single combats by which, in ancient times, the fate of armies and of nations was determined. A strong advocate, luminous amid the obscurities of conflicting testimony, and fearless among the toils of professional art, pushing on through precedents and prejudices, over arguments and authorities, right to his object, carrying along with him the judgments and the consciences of men, is an instance of moral sublimity. Nor at all less so is that of a profound, independent, upright judge, settling the law of the land by the wisdom of his decisions, and incorporating his own character and fame with the justice of his country. I have no higher idea of power than that which, in the simple words, “It is the opinion of the Court,” goes forth, composing discord- ant opinions, reconciling conflicting interests, and de- EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. 427 termining the sentiments and business of a whole people for ages. The pastoral office, peaceful and gentle, as its name imports, calling out less frequently than other spheres of life the strong passions and high powers of man, is, nevertheless, in its way, not without stirring and imposing scenes. At our baptism, when hearts experienced in the hazards of life come to commit us, in one of our holy rites, to the protection of God, and at our burial, when bereaved survivors are paying us their last kind tokens of regard before we quite pass away, it is a beautiful, an enviable office to administer the confidences and hopes of our divine religion. In the inward trials of disturbed minds, the tortures of re- morse, the solicitudes of unsettled faith, the sorrows and burdens of the spirit, how much is laid open to the true pastor, which, in wondrous incident and in dreadful intensity of feeling, has no parallel in fiction Within the sphere of this benignant calling, the wisdom of the statesman is seen to fail him, the cour- age of the warrior to faint, the timidity of childhood grows into confidence, and the weakness of woman is made strong; all things are reversed; hope springs from despair; death is swallowed up of life. The medical practitioner, unobtrusive and noiseless, passing through the world, as through a sick-room, with a soft step and a stifled voice, is a witness, nevertheless, of startling sights, and exercises some- times a rare power. There are no tragedies like those which sickness and death produce. The changes 428 EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. of human condition, the developments of character consequent upon the accidents or diseases which call for the counsels of the physician, the world of agony, physical and mental, revealed to him behind the cur- tain that hangs between the shows and the privacies of mortal life, though it may not be always proper to disclose, it is never possible to forget. The diary of a physician has passages of as deep pathos and as lofty principle as give dignity or eloquence to the pen of history. It is beautiful to see, in this profes- sion, the silent influence of knowledge. The arts of speech, the principal instruments of power in the other professions, this alone almost entirely rejects. There can be nothing more flattering to the pride of power than the homage paid to skill in the healing art. An eminent physician is a sovereign; all that a man hath will he give for his life; and a knowledge of the principles of life and health will command respect where all other knowledge is disregarded. Hippoc- rates was rewarded with divine honors in the age of Socrates and Plato; all countries sought his counsels; Artaxerxes was not able to command them, though he threatened his native island of Cos with ruin, as a means of compelling him to visit that monarch's dominions. Boerhaave, in his retreat at Leyden, listened to as an oracle by men of talents and learning from all parts of Europe, honored with applications for advice from China, and with a personal visit from Peter the Great, is an example of a more enviable authority than the Czar of Russia or the Celestial Emperor enjoyed. EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. 429 Of this profession the eminent man whose memory we have met to honor to-day was a member and an Ornament. - Daniel Oliver was born in Marblehead, on the 9th of September, 1787. He was great-grandson of Andrew Oliver, lieutenant-governor of Massachusetts a few years before the war of the Revolution, and son of the Rev. Thomas Fitch Oliver. He was educated at Harvard University, and took his first degree, with distinguished honor, at the annual Commencement in 1806. The year or two succeed- ing his collegiate course, he studied medicine in Salem, Massachusetts, under the direction of his uncle, Benja- min Lynde Oliver, M. D. He completed his profes- sional studies at the Medical College in Philadelphia, where he received the degree of Doctor in Medicine, in 1810. The talents and learning which he display- ed at this institution attracted the particular notice of the celebrated Dr. Benjamin Rush, and he became a favorite pupil of his illustrious teacher. Dr. Oliver commenced the practice of his profes- sion in Salem. There he first became connected with Dr. Reuben D. Mussey, with whom he was so long and so happily associated in public instruc- tion here. In 1815, he delivered a course of lectures on chemistry in this institution. In 1819, he remov- ed to Cambridge, to enjoy the use of the library of the University in the compilation of Pickering's Greek Lexicon, of a large portion of which he is understood to have been the author. In 1820, he 430 EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL. D. received the appointment of Professor of the Theory and Practice of Medicine, and of Materia Medica and Therapeutics, in Dartmouth College. In 1828, he was also appointed Professor of Intellectual Philoso- phy. The Professorship of the Theory and Practice of Medicine he retained until 1836; the other offices until 1837, when his connection with the College was finally resigned, and he removed again to Cam- bridge. During his residence here, he was several times chosen to represent the town in the legislature of the State. During this period, also, he received a diploma constituting him a member of the Royal Academy of Arts and Sciences of Palermo. In the year 1838, he was honored with the degree of Doctor of Laws from the College at Geneva. In the spring of 1840, he was appointed to the chair of Materia Medica in the Medical College of Ohio, which ill health compelled him to resign at the expiration of one year; and he returned once more, in 1841, to the place of his youthful studies. There, in the bosom of his family, and amid the sympathies of numerous personal friends and friends of learning, he lingered under the wasting influence of disease until the 24th day of May, 1842, when he expired, at the age of 54 years. So brief is the narrative of the outward life of a true scholar and an eminent professor and practitioner of medicine ! So little has the mere annalist to record of the history of one of the most gifted and most distinguished men of the generation from which EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. 431 he has just been separated by death ! It is, however, delightful to know that this is not all that remains of Daniel Oliver. The life of intellect is not record- ed, like the marches of a general, by the leagues of earth he has passed over between sun and sun, the mountains he has crossed, the cities he has razed, and the numbers he has met and conquered. The triumphs of a scholar are not estimated by figures, nor commemorated by visible monuments, erected on the spots of earth with which his virtues and achievements are associated. It is not necessary to his true glory that any place should appropriate him ; his birthplace and the place of his burial no man may know ; not a rood of the earth may be changed by his living upon it; and yet he may be a mighty man in his day, and thenceforward reckoned among the great men of the world. The subject of the only durable impressions made by genius is confined to no place; it is immaterial, spiritual. The power of man over matter is nothing distinctive of him or very remarkable. The spider and the bee are as curious Workmen here as the lords of the earth ; the coral insect builds up from the bottom of the sea monu- ments higher and broader and more lasting than the Pyramids, and is itself preserved as long and as well as the Pharaohs in the tomb which it erects. What chiefly characterizes mind is power over mind, - the production and direction of mind, - the power of thought and character. - This power it was the privilege of Dr. Oliver to 4.32 EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. enjoy and to exert beyond the ordinary lot of educated and professional men. Under no necessity of depend- ing upon the practice of physic for a livelihood, he never gave himself exclusively to it, and may not be said to have been in extensive practice at any period of his life. Indeed, an extreme and almost morbid delica- cy of feeling and of intercourse with society occasioned in him a reluctance to assume responsibility, and a dis- like of many of the practical duties of a physician, that prevented him from seeking employment, which his circumstances did not render necessary for his support, and which, of course, interrupted his favorite studies. During a large part of his residence here, he was known as a physician chiefly in the village and immediate vicinity, and tempted beyond the circle of his ordinary walks only by the urgent solicitations of personal friends, or as a counsellor of his eminent and most estimable associate, Dr. Mussey, between whom and himself there existed, from the commence- ment of their acquaintance in Salem till the death of Dr. Oliver, a mutual and unbroken confidence and affection, worthy of associates in the common cause of science and humanity. The true sphere of Dr. Oliver's influence was that of a teacher of medicine and a general scholar. As a teacher his success was eminent. He spared no pains to accomplish himself, and was rewarded for his efforts by a fame as enviable as it was just. Before the eighteen or twenty classes to which he lectured, on different subjects, in yonder hall, he never ap- EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. 433 peared without full and perfect written preparation. Every discourse he delivered was meditated and ar- ranged, and every sentence finished, as if it were a work of art intended to bear his name to posterity. And however difficult or fine the speculations, he was always listened to with delighted attention. The work which he has given to the world on physiology, regarded, I believe, as the best treatise of its kind in use, is but a specimen of the discussion and compo- sition which marked his entire course of instruction. His lectures to the undergraduates in the academical department of the institution would be thought, I am persuaded, still more remarkable than those upon physiology. They were intended to exhibit the present state of mental philosophy. And the singu- lar clearness with which he discriminated the settled points of absolute knowledge in this comprehensive and yet imperfect science, his happy development of intricate and complicated principles, and the beautiful colors which a true poetic spirit enabled him, now and then, to throw over the bald peaks and angles of this cold region, entitle him to a rank among metaphysicians as eminent as he maintained in his appropriate profession. In the State legislature he was not a frequent nor a diffuse speaker; but, on several occasions which called him out, the courteous demeanour of the man, the extreme perspicuity of the reasoning, and, what to those who did not intimately know him was wholly unexpected, the keen, felicitous satire and 55 434 EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, L.L. D. delicate humor intermingled with the grave matters of debate raised him at once to a prominent position, from which no subsequent imprudence or mistake ever degraded him. The intellectual character of Dr. Oliver came nearer than it has been my fortune to observe in almost any other instance to the idea of a perfect scholar. He was at once profound, comprehensive, and elegant. Upon no subject which he had consid. ered was his knowledge fragmentary or partial. A philosophic, systematic habit of mind led him always to seek for the principles of things, and to be satis- fied only with the truth. The compass of his inqui- ries was as extraordinary as their depth. He had investigated with care a surprising extent of knowl- edge. A master of his own language, and minutely acquainted with all its principal productions, he was also thoroughly versed in the Greek, and familiar with the original works which have given to that tongue the first place among human dialects. The German he read with facility, and had pursued his favorite studies in the masters of its profound learning. Of French and Italian he was not ignorant. Music, both as a science and an art, was his delight and recreation. In the arts of painting and sculpture his information was liberal, and his taste said to be excellent. Morals and politics he had studied in their theory, and in the history of the world. His acquaintance with civil history was among the most extraordinary of his at- tainments. The beautiful in nature, in life, or in art EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. 435 and literature, few men have so exquisitely enjoyed, or so justly appreciated. Thus the principal elements of a perfect mind seem to have been singularly united and harmonized in him, — exactness of knowledge, liberal learning, and true taSte. Among the qualities more strictly moral and social which belonged to him, and, in some respects, distin- guished him, were several of too rare occurrence and too great value not to be particularly mentioned. Of these one of the most striking was a peculiarly trust- ful spirit. There was nothing skeptical about him. Accustomed to form opinions carefully and thought- fully, he naturally respected opinion; used himself to regard truth with a devoted attachment, he was not forward to suspect other minds of treating it lightly. The disposition to reject the lessons of age and expe- rience, to question the foundations of institutions and opinions hallowed by time and consecrated by author- ity, - a disposition so often regarded as a mark of independence, an indication of genius, – he neither cherished nor approved. He felt that one of the surest pledges of a noble nature is respect for nature's nobili- ty; and that a questioning, querulous, self-sufficient habit of mind belongs to little men always. So strong was his disgust at the fault-finding, carping criticism of affected students of literature, that he thought it not well for an instructer of youth to be often exposing and magnifying the blemishes or mistakes of ancient authors. It has been often remarked that men of no 436 EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. moral principle are apt to be skeptical about the ex- istence of it in others. It seems to be equally true, that men of no reasoned opinions of their own are apt to distrust the sentiments of mankind. And when, as they frequently do, these traits, distrust of truth and suspicion of goodness, meet in the same mind, they constitute the most miserable and the most despicable of characters. They are inconsistent alike with respect for others and for ourselves. Another feature of the extraordinary character which I have attempted to sketch was an unusual sense of personal honor and of moral obligation. He was one of those few men in whose presence we feel it to be a sin to speak unkindly of a human being; so scrupulous we instinctively perceive them to be of touching the rights or invading the sanctities of their fellow-men. Akin to this spirit of justice to others, and always associated with it, is a high self- respect, which feels neglect like a wound, and looks upon reproach as an insult. Indulged to an extreme, this character undoubtedly degenerates into a moody, surly, silent seclusion from the world,—a state of mind the more to be deplored, because it is generally, con- nected with elements of character which, under kind- lier influences, would have laid the foundation of use- fulness and happiness. If Dr. Oliver had a fault, it was, perhaps, too sensitive a self-respect, too unfavor- able an interpretation of the sentiments and conduct of others towards himself. He wanted, somewhat, that predisposition to suppose ourselves well thought EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. 437 of and always welcome, which certainly constitutes so much of the pleasurable feelings of a very happy Iſlall. The religious character, which in every instance of real greatness is a leading feature, was not wanting in our lamented friend. He had been piously educat- ed; and his principal studies had, from early life, lain on the borders of religion. A constant attendant on religious worship, he venerated the truths of Chris- tianity, and contributed cheerfully to the maintenance of religious institutions, without suffering the preju- dices of his education, and the preference of his mature judgment for a particular mode of worship, to blind him to the general claims of true Christianity in any of its forms. By nature and on principle a generous man, he was behind none of his associates in sustain- ing every laudable charity. In his final illness, the germs of piety, which seem to have been long quick- ening in his breast, were rapidly matured. And his last days presented to his friends the spectacle, so ed- ifying to man and so pleasing to God, of a strong and cultivated mind, enriched with various knowledge and ministered unto by all human arts, seeking its chiefest treasure in the divine mercy through the interposition and atonement of Jesus Christ. A character like that presented by the subject of these remarks, it is not easy to exhibit or perfectly to appreciate. The influence exerted by it is so insen- sible, and its ultimate effect so remote, that we rarely do full justice to it. And yet it is due to the patient 4.38 EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. industry and moral resolution by which such a char- acter is formed, that we do not suffer the more pre- tending and more dazzling modes of life to engross our applause. It becomes a community of scholars to hold in high esteem and cherish with lasting admira- tion every model of intellectual and moral greatness. For a man like Dr. Oliver to live is to do good. Soci- ety is improved and refined by his very presence. In- tellect is quickened and learning is made venerable by his example. All great and wholesome truths de- rive new authority from his character. The tone of sentiment and the style of thought are elevated through- out the circle in which he moves. And when to the possession of great qualities he adds the habitual di- rect instruction of successive classes of academical or professional pupils, the sphere of influence is so extended, and the remoter consequences of life so magnified, that it is difficult to overestimate the obli- gations of society to its benefactor. As an institution of learning, we are deeply indebted to Dr. Oliver for nearly twenty years of active and ennobling service. His fame is partly ours. His spirit has mingled with the atmosphere we breathe. His genius, his clear perception, his just taste, his honorable and pure heart, have impressed successive generations of young men who have met and com- muned with him here. His name will be recalled with fondness by them in their remotest wanderings from the seat of their early discipline; and their Alma Mater, still advancing, as we trust, under the benign EULOGY ON DANIEL OLIVER, LL.D. 439 direction of kindred minds, will honor his memory with fresh proofs that she still fosters in her bosom the generous love of letters and the manly morality which she saw and approved in him. D IS C O U R S E DELIVERED BEFORE THE RHETORICAL SOCIETY IN THE THEO- LOGICAL SEMINARY AT BANGOR, MAINE, AUGUST 30, 1843. REVEALED truth has this in common with all other truth, that it is taught and maintained by human in- strumentalities. Supernatural in its origin, and ac- companied by extraordinary spiritual agencies, it is, nevertheless, applied to the minds of men by means. And, in general, the means adapted to give effect to other truth are no less fitted and no less necessary to recommend and enforce that which came immedi- ately from God. In casting about me for a subject not unsuited to the present occasion, my thoughts have fallen upon the means on which the Christian religion chiefly depends,-the agency of a living ministry. The gos- pel relies mainly, it is obvious, upon personal influ- ence. It is sustained and propagated by the living preacher. In other modes of worship, the priesthood has been but an appendage of the temple and the altar; the sacred place and the sacrifice have been preferred above the pontiff. The ministers of religion have not DISCOURSE BEFORE THE RHETORICAL SOCIETY. 441 been always even a distinct order; and, except under Christianity, have never, in themselves, been the prin- cipal support of the worship they administer. The ideas which uninspired men have formed of the spir- itual and the infinite they have generally sought to express and to fix in material forms. Structures of enduring masonry, statues of the gods, costly and mys- terious rites, have been resorted to, to represent and perpetuate among men the great principles of reli- gious belief which their unassisted reason has seemed to discover, and which, distorted and corrupted, con- founded with errors and obscured by superstitions, have yet been the leading element in the education of every people. Even the Jewish worship, though comparatively pure and spiritual, was, in no small degree, nourished by sensible images and consecrated forms. The tab- ernacle, with its golden furniture, its ark and altar and mercy-seat; the robes of Aaron, the ephod, the breast- plate, and the mitre, all of cunning workmanship, glow- ing with purple and scarlet dyes, and jewelled with the emerald, the diamond, and all precious stones; the oracular Urim and Thummim ; the wondrous cloud and fire of the divine presence; and, in after ages, the temple, enriched with the offerings of piety and the trophies of holy warfare, — these outward, visible things were the secret of the charm which bound the Jew to the city of his solemnities. These made him to prefer Jerusalem above his chief joy. For these he 56 442 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE wept, when he hung his harp on the willows, and sat down by the rivers of Babylon. In thus imparting a high significance to visible forms there is nothing unreasonable or unnatural. There is, rather, something beautiful in the idea of giving a tongue to inanimate nature, making the hues of the sun and the gems of the earth our teachers; some- thing grand in the thought of engraving our wisdom and our duty upon the permanent material of nature, the everlasting rock; something grateful to the heart, amid the changes of life, in surrounding ourselves, on either hand and above, with enduring records of spirit- ual and living truth. The wisest of men die; the most eloquent lips soon cease to impart knowledge. It would seem, therefore, but a natural wish to give greater permanence and a more venerable authority to truth than is entirely consistent with this transient life of ours. And certainly there is a solemn elo- quence, a reverend grandeur, in those mysterious mon- uments of genius and piety, which, in America, in Europe, in Asia, in Africa, all over the world, have outlived the memory of their builders, and still utter their sublime lessons of primeval wisdom. Wherever to these outward emblems have been add- ed the influence of civil authority and of a divine right in the priesthood, the machinery of religion has been complete. The power of circumstance and form has here attained its utmost height. Personal quali- ties, mere weight of character, intellect, eloquence, piety, in the sacred office, have here been last and RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 443 least among the elements of ecclesiastical power. The individual appears lost in the order; the order, but an accident, a necessary accident, of the system ; the system, a colossal structure, built up by the gradual accumulation of ages, and become, by insensible de- grees, the agent of opinion, rather than its instrument; dictating to the reason, moulding the taste, and pre- scribing to the conscience; presenting, in history, the humiliating spectacle of free, heaven-born mind paying homage to a creature of its own. The Christian religion discovers profounder views of our nature. It goes upon higher ideas of our true dignity and spiritual character; and in this respect, as in so many others, betrays its superhuman origin. Revelation, which so humbles his pride, is, at the same time, the greatest honor ever put upon man. It sup- poses in him capacities hitherto undeveloped to him- self. It assumes the existence of elements of moral greatness in his nature, which no philosophy had de- tected. It takes for granted his capacity for a high spiritual life. It abandons the whole apparatus of forms and shows and outward monuments; puts away the childish things of the world's infancy; and gives us, in their stead, intellectual, manly, spiritual prin- ciples. Even in Jerusalem, while the temple was yet stand- ing, and men had no idea that the Father of the uni- verse could be truly worshipped anywhere else, the apostles, with power, if need were, to evoke a more gorgeous temple from the earth, were content to be 444 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE gathered together in an upper room of a private house. And in Greece, taught by her poets and artists to as- sociate the worship of the gods with whatever of beauty genius had executed, or taste designed, in ar- chitecture and sculpture, the same apostles met their disciples by the river's side, or in the school of Tyran- nus. The temple, in which a Saviour promised had been so long adored, might have been consecrated to a Saviour come; its imposing service might have been made to turn the eye of faith backward as well as forward. There would have been something appro- priate, and consonant with our best feelings, in the idea of devoting the house of David to the worship of the Son of David. It would have seemed em- inently fit and useful, that he, who had been foreshad- owed, in the sacrifices of the sanctuary, to the gen- erations who died before the sight, should be set forth in the same holy place as the risen and glorified Re- deemer of all generations. But this work of ages, the pride of Jewish faith and the wonder of the na- tions, was to be of no more account. It had accom- plished its purpose. A new order of things was to succeed. And the glory of Jerusalem was suffered to pass away; not one stone was left upon another. The line of the priesthood was ended; the altar of incense, as well as the altar of sacrifice, was thrown down. The dispensation of forms was superseded by a dispensation of the spirit. To Christianity an outward existence was hardly given. The kingdom of heaven was set up within RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 445 men; it came not with observation. The life of piety was awakened in the Soul; the principle of love was implanted in the heart; the spirit of worship was quickened into fervid action. But every thing exter- mal was left very much to the instinctive suggestions of the new-born spirit. The sensual was thus sub- ordinated to the spiritual; the formal to the essen- tial. The inward was developed in the outward; not the outward made to develope the inward. The en- larged thoughts and rectified feelings of the regenerate were trusted to unfold themselves in natural forms, subject to no law but their own impulses. The prin- ciple of spiritual life, the supernatural element in the new creature, became, to the moral man, what the principle of animal or of vegetable life is to the phys- ical man or the plant, a central, organic power, evolv- ing and manifesting itself spontaneously, -symmetri- cally and appropriately embodying itself; a power im- patient of coercion or direction from without, but, when left perfectly free, naturally taking to itself a form as becoming and as graceful as the uncramped child or unforced tree. Hence the absence of prescribed forms of devotion and modes of organization in the New Testament. Hence the remarkable obscurity which rests on the institution of the Christian Sabbath, the mode and subjects of Christian baptism, the calling and ordina- tion of the clergy, the discipline and constitution of the church, and the whole matter of ecclesiastical order. A single chapter, one is ready to think, might 446 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE have made all plain. The space taken up by our Lord’s commentary on the moral law would have determined, with equal clearness, questions of mode and order which have filled the world with bitterness and violence. But that space is not given to the subject; that chapter is not written. There was, undoubtedly, a primitive order and a primitive discipline. A church was formed; a minis- try instituted; an outward worship adopted. But the particular organization of the church, the precise mode of ordination, the exact manner of worship, are left, to say the least, in much indistinctness, if not un- certainty. Is there not a striking difference, in this respect, between the formal and the doctrinal part of Christianity, - a remarkable difference, in point of clearness and prominence, between the facts which relate to the essentials of our religion, and the facts which respect its forms º Can it have been wholly without design, that the two only rites enjoined upon Christians were the simplest possible for ends which could not otherwise be answered, the one as a visible profession of Christ, and the other as a periodical public recognition of him; and that even these sim- ple rites were not original, nor instituted with any show of importance, but were only Jewish practices, transferred, without ceremony, from their primitive use * Does it not look very much as if it had been intended in this way to intimate to after ages, that, although Christianity must of necessity have a visible existence, and therefore a form of existence, this form RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 447 was left to be determined by the circumstances and the judgment of the worshippers; and that, beyond the necessities of the case, the less of form and cir- cumstance there might be, the safer and wiser, on the whole, would be the organization of the church F It is difficult to resist the impression from the whole history of the New Testament, that the care of all the inspired writers, as well as of the great Founder of our religion himself, was directed chiefly to the in- ward spirit of piety, not to the outward manifestation of it; to the divine truths by which this spirit is nour- ished, not to modes and means. They seem studious- ly to rebuke the veneration of their times for sacred places and holy days. “The hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father.” “The true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth.” “But now, after that ye have known God, or, rather, are known of God, how turn ye again to the weak and beggarly elements whereunto ye desire again to be in bondage? Ye observe days, and months, and times, and years.” One mode of worship and one ecclesiastical order may be more evangelical than others, nearer to the primitive model. I doubt not that they are so, and may be fairly defended by a careful induction from the historical records of the New Testament. But this very induction is itself proof that outward forms are not insisted on, not made prominent, in the new dispensation. Why the need of careful distinction, of cautious inference, of diligent comparison, in determin- 448 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE ing questions of mode and order The obvious ap- pearance to a cursory reader of these divine records is precisely that which an apostle has described, where he speaks of “the light of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, shining in the hearts * of the early preachers, – reflected from them as from a mirror; and where he represents the gospel as “a treasure in earthen vessels,” as great, vital, glorious truths, hidden from the foundation of the world, but now made known to simple-minded, sensible men, who thenceforth felt it to be their sacred mission, day and night, by land and sea, at home and in the ends of the earth, to proclaim what they had seen and heard. Without letters of authority from prince or priest, without staff or scrip, relying on the promise of Christ and the power of an earnest soul, they went forth, preaching everywhere, and testifying to every man “repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.” By the word, the pure word of life, the word of God, these honest and fearless men achieved the moral victory of which the prophets had spoken. Chosen from the humblest walks of life, without family, without titles, with no associations of wealth or office, distinguished only by their personal qualities, their enterprise and patience, their lofty principles and sublime virtue, their thoughtful, quiet, beautiful spirit, their zeal for God and their charity to men, they could undertake any thing. Rich in the seed of truth, and full of faith in God, they counted RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 449 the world their field. Clad in the whole armor of God, they did battle as good soldiers of Jesus Christ, and saw the dawn of peace, that blessed peace, under whose gentle reign “ the wolf shall dwell with the lamb; and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.” It were not quite proper to say that Christianity rejects altogether the aid of outward institutions, and refuses to assume a visible, or even an established form. A purely spiritual worship is not of this world, if it be of any world. Social worship, here at least, requires a place of worship and a mode of administra- tion. These are necessary means of mutual sympathy in praise and prayer. The intercourse of our spirits is through the medium of sensible things. A common altar, a common temple, and common rites are means of spiritual communion. About these time gathers hallowed associations. They acquire by use and habit a holy significance, and thus become important auxil- iaries of truth and devotion. They cherish salutary affections, and bind the heart more strongly to great and holy objects. It is a distinctive feature of the gospel, however, that it leaves these outward institutions and obser- vances, for the most part, to be determined by the principle of spiritual life within. It assumes that they in whom this principle has been implanted by the Holy Ghost are not incapable of corresponding ideas 57 450 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE of fitness and utility in external things. It puts honor upon the “new creature" by committing to him a degree of responsibility, a trust, a discretion, in these matterS. Accordingly, men are nowhere, in the New Tes- tament, commissioned to build up a church, to estab- lish a hierarchy, to found an order, to set up insti- tutions; but to preach, to teach, to save souls, to publish the gospel of God to every creature. To support them in this arduous enterprise, they are promised, not the aid of the civil arm, nor of engines of ecclesiastical power, but “a mouth and wisdom * which kings and mighty men should “not be able to gainsay or resist.” With erecting cathedrals, engrav- ing crosses upon churches or graves, hallowing days, canonizing saints, what had the primitive missionaries of Christ to do? From the great common concerns of government, even, they kept altogether aloof, pay- ing tribute to Caesar, and going quietly about their Master's business. In the brief history of their labors by Saint Luke, what is so remarkable as the personal incidents of the narrative The story of the cripple who sat for alms at the beautiful gate of the temple; of Cornelius, the centurion ; of the sorceress and the jailer at Philippi; of Lydia, the seller of purple; of the eunuch of Æthiopia; of Æneas, and Dorcas, and Sergius Paulus; of Ananias and Sapphira, Simon Magus, and Elymas; of Felix and Agrippa, - who reads the simple, touching relation of the interviews of the apostles with these persons, of all ranks and RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 45] occupations and character, and does not feel how very far were the thoughts of those divine men from any thing and every thing else but the good of souls, the conversion and salvation of every human creature ? Who does not see of how little moment it seemed to them, who wore the royal purple or sat in the seat of earthly judgment; of how little moment, who triumph- ed or suffered defeat in the conflicts of ambition; of how little moment, under what names or in what forms men worshipped the Father; and of what great, what unspeakable importance, seemed to them the inward state, the essential condition, of every living soul, every responsible creature of God P. How impossible it is to forget, as we peruse the narrative of Luke, or the Epistles of his associates, how utterly insignificant and worthless is every thing outward and circumstan- tial, all rites and offices and titles under heaven, in comparison with the real moral, spiritual character of the man, – the individual, self-knowing, solitary soul, responsible to God only, and incapable of help or harm from the whole world! It is, therefore, inconsistent with the whole spirit of Christianity for us to be insisting on modes and forms. It is tithing mint and cummin. And if so be the necessary institutions are maintained, the simpler and the less conspicuous the machinery of our religion, the more Christian and the better it is. The essential things are the truth and the men to preach it. And inasmuch as the truth remains unchanged, the differ- ence of effect from it, at different periods, must be 452 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE owing to the difference in the personal qualities, the effective energy, of its preachers. What, then, I proceed to inquire, are the peculiar responsibilities of the Christian minister at the present day P The feeling has, of late, been evidently growing in the public mind, and more particularly among the better educated of our younger divines and candidates for the ministry, that the Puritan fathers, with truth and right on their side, and the noblest traits of our nature in their hearts, fell, nevertheless, into the common error of humanity, and pushed the Reformation to an extreme. It would have been as well, some have thought, if their righteous indig- nation at the abuses of the church had been a little less unsparing, and their zeal for simplicity somewhat more tolerant. It would, no doubt, have better pleased a taste matured by converse with our earlier authors, and with the monuments of the piety and charity of an earlier age, in the land of our ancestors, if, in the wholesomé pruning of the tree, the axe had spared a little more of the foliage, and left the goodly trunk not quite so naked, and the blushing fruit not quite so open to the sun. Many of the Fathers would themselves have appre- ciated these feelings. They found it a sacrifice to go out from the ancient altars, where, from the begin- ning, they had kneeled down. They felt it to be a sacrifice to renounce the silent society of the saints who, in their quiet sanctuaries, had held converse RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 453 with the holy dead of so many generations. It was self-denial to abjure for ever the rites of gray antiquity. I do not wonder that many a spirit lingered and hesitated, and but half consented. Luther, a man of genius and a scholar, had also the yet rarer gift of a nerve to bear, without flinching, the cutting off of a right hand, or the plucking out of a right eye. Me- lancthon, as richly endowed, and more chastened and humanized by letters, fondly hoped, and hoped, to save the honor of his divine Master, and yet be per- mitted to live with two hands and two eyes. Me- lancthon was, perhaps, the more perfect character; certainly the gentler and more beautiful spirit, the finer model for ordinary life in ordinary times; but we may not forget, that, if there had been no Luther, there had been no Melancthon. Sometimes the prun- ing-knife must be used with an unsparing hand, if you would bring out the green, fresh foliage all over the rugged trunk of the tree. I can well comprehend how a young man, nurtured among the bald edifices and crude institutions of the New World, is, on crossing the sea, somewhat awed by the composed dignity and sovereign voice of the Queen of the Seven Hills. It is not strange that a thoughtful student of the old English mind sometimes regrets that so wide a sea lies between him and the fair forms about which are wreathed so much of the his- tory and poetry of the Old World. Still less is it to be wondered at, that, in a country of perpetual change, a country where a man hardly thinks to die in the house 454 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE in which his children were born, where something better is always taking the place of that which is only good, - men who love to be quiet, who long to find any thing that is still, turn a wishful eye to what, if it lacks perfection, has at least the semblance of stability. It is, I hope, no sin, to prefer the “dim, religious light.” of a Gothic church, in the church-yard, to a glaring meetinghouse, on the windy and dusty hill-top that overlooks the village. May not one be pardoned for choosing a modest parsonage, a little out of the air of the town, amid the new-mown hay and the green wood, sweet with the honeysuckle and the eglantine, the home of many a reverend man and more reverend woman, in preference to the one half of a brick build- ing, with a gutter before and a pump-house behind, and fervid noon all overhead There is wholesome authority, it must be confessed, in time-honored usage ; a tranquillizing and not unim- proving influence in becoming forms, entirely consist- ent with an intellectual and spiritual worship. Taste may minister to devotion; the beauty of outward na- ture is in harmony with truth and goodness. It can- not be that natural grandeur and loveliness should really be at war with the spiritual affections. The God of grace is the God of nature too. Nor are the Christian arts necessarily foes to faith. The Holy Spirit has condescended to invest divine truths with the drapery of poetry; and there is no reason, in the nature of these arts, why painting or sculpture should be incapable of a religious use. RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 455 But then there is a higher philosophy than the phi- losophy of the beautiful, - a philosophy not always practicable in this imperfect state, without some sacri- fice of taste. Things lawful may not be expedient; the lesser good must sometimes be foregone for the sake of the greater. What, then, I ask, is the peculiar duty of the cler- gy at the present day This question will be more easily answered, if we first answer another, namely, What are the peculiar tendencies of the present time in things pertaining to the sphere of the clergy P Is Christianity in danger of being too much or too little reformed P Are we tending to spiritualism or to for- malism P Mr. Macaulay, in his Review of Ranke's History of the Popes, in 1841, expressed the opinion, that Prot- estantism had gained nothing in two hundred and fifty years; that the pope had acquired more in Amer- ica than he ever lost in Europe; that he was regaining what he had lost there ; and has had at no time more reason to anticipate a universal spiritual dominion than under the influence of the civilization of the nineteenth century. These startling statements appeared, at the time, not a little extraordinary. But subsequent events, if they have not confirmed them, have at least given them new interest, as the deliberate sentiments of one of the ablest writers of the day. It can no longer be doubted that in the heart of Protestant Europe a movement has commenced, as yet difficult to measure 456 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE and appreciate, but unquestionable in its tendency, and fraught with infinite hazard to the peace, if not to the permanence, of the reformed church. In this remarkable movement, strange as it seems, there has lately been discovered a hearty and wide-spread sym- pathy on this side of the sea. New demonstrations of hostility to Protestantism in France and Prussia, though hardly expected, create of course no great surprise. Not so in England and America. The movement in these free states attracts the notice, not to say the wonder, of the world. The truth is too plain, that, for one reason or another, the attitude of the most important governments of the European con- tinent, and of respectable portions of the reformed church itself, in Great Britain and the United States, is any thing but auspicious to the cause of Protestant Christianity. The public authority has, in some in- stances, overstepped the restraints which public opin- ion was supposed to have laid upon it throughout Christendom, and has enlisted force and violence again in the propagation of the national faith. Learn- ing has come forth from the schools of a Protestant country, to revive an antiquated worship. Poetry has not withheld her aid in this remarkable change in the turn of public thought and sentiment; lingering, for some years past, with unwonted delight, among the monuments of a more imposing worship, and investing the gray ruin and the obsolete rite with the twofold charm of hallowed antiquity. Keble and Wordsworth have been doing something RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 457 to attune the English ear once more to matins and vespers, Paternosters and Ave Marias, and to recon- cile the English heart to saints and abbeys. Keble, a true, sweet child of Christian song, twin spirit of holy George Herbert, a poetic impersonation of good Master Hooker and honest Izaak Walton, has so strung his Thoughts in Verse upon the thread of the festivals of the church, so woven the golden fila- ments of poetry into the liturgy, that minds a little sensitive to soothing and tranquillizing strains over- look the great principles of faith in the quietism of feeling; truth becomes sublimated to poetry; and fresh wreaths seem to them to be twined about the head of every saint in the calendar. Wordsworth, a much greater poet, in his Eccle- siastical Sketches, leaves us every now and then to wonder what manner of Protestant he is. He in- deed condemns the rites “that trample upon soul and sense,” — “The ‘trumpery " that ascends in bare display, - Bulls, pardons, relics, cowls, black, white, and gray.” But his tones of indignation, now and then, soften to regret and sympathy. Thus he laments the disso- lution of the monasteries: — “Threats come, which no submission may assuage, No sacrifice avert, no power dispute ; The tapers shall be quenched, the belfries mute; And, 'mid their choirs unroofed by selfish rage, The warbling wren shall find a leafy cage, The gadding bramble hang her purple fruit, And the green lizard and the gilded newt Lead unmolested lives, and die of age. 58 458 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE The lovely nun (submissive, but more meek Through saintly habit than from effort due To unrelenting mandates that pursue - With equal wrath the steps of strong and weak) - Goes forth, – unveiling timidly her cheek Suffused with blushes of celestial hue, While through the convent-gate to open view Softly she glides, another home to seek. Not Iris, issuing from her cloudy shrine, An apparition more divinely bright. Ye, too, must fly before a chasing hand, Angels and saints, in every hamlet mourned Ah! if the old idolatry be spurned, Let not your radiant shapes desert the land. Mother whose virgin bosom was uncrost With the least shade of thought to sin allied, Woman above all women glorified, Our tainted nature’s solitary boast; Purer than foam on central ocean tost; Brighter than eastern skies at daybreak, strewn With fancied roses, – than the unblemished moon Before her wane begins on heaven’s blue coast; Thy image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween, Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend, As to a visible power, in which did blend All that was mixed and reconciled in thee Of mother's love with maiden purity, Of high with low, celestial with terrene. Not utterly unworthy to endure Was the supremacy of crafty Rome.” The historical novel, too, has done its full share in fostering this passion for the past; intertwining, with a skill that forms an era in our literature, the richest threads of modern thought and natural feeling with the fancy-work of an earlier time; investing with a RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 459 wonderful charm the relics of a by-gone age of strange adventure and stranger superstition ; and leaving us in doubt whether the boasted progress of modern civilization has not, after all, been backward. Akin to this influence of fiction has been that of the arts of design, employed with beautiful effect in illustrating the earlier poets, and clothing with the associations of genius the monuments and scenes of a form of life that had ceased to be familiar to us. Something is also to be ascribed to the reaction that is following an age of religious controversy, an age of carping, pugilistic logic, of relentless metaphys- ics and unlovely tempers. Men of all sects are beginning to yearn after the quiet sentiment, the placid, sunny, sweet spirit of the olden time. The victor and the vanquished, covered with dust and stained with blood, hasten home to be composed by soft hands and soothed by angel voices. The dove, hawked at and torn, hies to the peaceful cote, to smooth again her ruffled breast and rest her fluttering heart. A gentle nature tires of strife even in a right- eous cause, sighing “for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, May never reach it more.” At the same time a reaction of a different sort is evidently taking place, and giving a similar direction to cultivated mind. The last half century is prečmi- nently a period of religious charities, of benevolent 460 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE enterprise. Societies and churches are organized for external action. Vast sums are expended by them; and numerous periodicals give publicity to their trans- actions, and record their results. It is an age of missions, of associations, of public meetings, of out- ward activity; and, most clearly, in these respects, far in advance of any other since the days of the apostles. But with all of actual good and of hope which it includes, it has incidental and characteristic evils as obvious as its benefits. The inward life has not kept up with the outward; the contemplative, in Christian character, has somewhat suffered from the predominance of the active; the closet has been frequented less, as “the market-place ’’ has been visited more ; the heart has not been cultivated in proportion as the hands have been employed. The consequence is an inordinate passion for social, public, out-of-door life, and impatience of secret worship and self-communion ; the substitution of religious news- papers for Mason on Self-knowledge, Pilgrim’s Pro- gress, Baxter's Saint's Rest, and Howe's Living Tem- ple, not to say the Bible itself; and the prevalence, to some extent, of zeal without knowledge, and charity without devotion. To such excesses must, of course, succeed, sooner or later, a mortifying remembrance of the profound piety of a former generation, and, in minds not remarkably distinguishing or vigorous, an unintelligent regret for the forms and occasions of de- votion, — the baptisms, and crosses, and images, and ceremonies, – the superstitions, - of antiquity. RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 461 Much, also, -more, in this country, at least, than to all other causes, – is to be attributed to the extrava- gances and divisions of an age of great individual freedom of opinion and practice. The crudities of doctrine and the follies and absurdities of life preva- lent in large portions of the religious community, in an excited state of feeling, and under very little re- straint from any wholesome and efficient public senti- ment, have had the effect, on some minds, to bring into doubt, not only our principles of religious liberty, but our theory of government itself, and to lead still more to hope that in a more fixed and permanent system of religion we may find the true counterpoise to our democratic spirit. - The tendency of popular institutions to give im- portance to the mass of society presents, not only to politicians, but to the ministers of religion also, a strong temptation to sacrifice principle to success, and, in the latter more particularly, to accommodate their style of thought and eloquence to a vulgar standard, under the very false impression, that men are able to appreciate only what they are competent to produce, and that uneducated mind is influenced and improved most by models of argument and taste on a level with itself. Hence, in the pulpit, the culti- wated coarseness and gross allusions, the indelicate and irreverent familiarity, the affectation of colloquial smartness and flippancy, which offend good taste and shock the Christian sentiment of the more intelligent and refined portions of the community, without com- 462 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE manding the respect or raising the character of any portion. From this degradation of the great subject of religion, this exceeding perversion of the sacred influence of the minister of the New Testament, it is no wonder that men turn away in utter disgust. It is no wonder, if they sometimes hope to escape one excess by running directly into the opposite ; and, forgetting all evils but those which they feel, seem willing to submit again to a yoke which their fathers were not able to bear. From these and other causes, a great change has undoubtedly taken place in this country and in Eng- land. Deep regret is extensively felt for things pass- ed away; a longing for the restoration of an age gone by ; impatience of present duty, in the circumstances and times in which we live ; and a desire to restore the forms and usages of times which we had supposed not likely ever again to return. Recent events on both sides of the water must be regarded as important indexes of the current of public sentiment. Society, in its ever onward course, “is already winding round the roots of the mountains,” whose tops the gifted seers but just now discerned in the distance. It seemed impossible that Popery should ever be engrafted on our American institutions. We did not think that such extremes of authority and liberty could possibly meet. Exclusiveness and bigot- ry seemed to have nothing in common with our notions of individual right and freedom. Formalism appeared to be the natural opposite of Puritanism. And we RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 463 i have refused to be alarmed, until we see colleges and cathedrals, under the auspices of Rome, rising from the bosom of our own soil, and sons of the Pilgrims subscribing to the creed of the scarlet queen, within sight of the surf that washes the Plymouth rock. Whereunto all this will grow may not be easy to foresee. But what our own duty is, at such a time, can admit of no doubt. When the spirit of society is evidently tending to bigotry and formalism, it becomes the ministers of Christ to fall back upon their original position. When exclusiveness and dogmatism are coming again into favor, it is time for them to show themselves “too catholic * for such a worship. In- stead of studying to reanimate dead forms and to re- construct demolished outward institutions, they should be preaching truth, applying the vital energies of the gospel to the soul of society. Instead of founding a hierarchy and a church, with feasts and fasts, and divers washings, standing in meats and drinks; instead of forcing society into forsaken channels, they should be converting individual sinners, and edifying individ- ual saints, – using their high spiritual powers to quicken into life the elements of truth and love in individual bosoms. They hold in their hand the word of life; they have committed to them the sovereign balm for the healing of souls. On their personal activity, under God, on their moral power, the reli- gion at whose altars they minister mainly relies. It is for them to say whether the church shall be, as of old, a great temple, overshadowing nations of 464 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE money-changers and refugees from justice, or a spirit- ual house of lively stones, elect and precious. It is not a time to foster a religion of forms and outward circumstances, but to avoid it; to have no communion with it; to contend earnestly against it. It is a great error to suppose that we are in no danger, that intelligence and superstition are incom- patible. The worst of all superstitions is that of in- trusting the keeping of one’s conscience to another, — leaving the care of our own soul altogether to the bishop. And this is the superstition of a cultivated age, of a refined people. It is the self-imposition of men accustomed to defer to the authority of the professors and students of art and science, — men familiar with the maxim, that they are best qualified to teach whose business it is to know, - men, there- fore, who commit their spiritual interests to the priest, as they commit their health to the physician, or their ships to the pilot. They have their own proper sphere, and their pastor has his. They pay the charges, and he takes the responsibility. And if all does not end well, it cannot be for want of provision on their part. Thus moral responsibility is evaded : religious anxiety is stifled; inquiry is suppressed; a venal priesthood preach smooth things and prophesy deceits; immorality and impiety are countenanced by the very men ordained to rebuke them. And thus a people, blessed with the lights of learning and the luxuries of art, may be without God in the world. Happy will it be for us, if we be not destined to RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 465 write a new chapter in the history of man, – to ex- hibit the singular spectacle of civil liberty wedded to spiritual despotism, - of a people, free to licentious- ness, seeking an asylum from self-reproach in the authority of the church, satisfying an offended con- science with dispensations from the successor of St. Peter. To preserve us from this unexampled fate, to avert this national calamity, is the appropriate work of the Protestant clergy. To qualify themselves for this high duty is the proper discipline of the American divine of our time. If the view of the Christian ministry held up in this discourse be just, it may not be inappropriate for me to conclude with a few words of advice, suggested by the subject, to the young gentlemen on whose kind invitation I appear here to-day. The idea of the clerical office which I have en- deavoured to present to you is precisely that which, it seems to me, you should most seriously ponder, and most earnestly strive to realize in yourselves. It is that of a body of men not leaning on the church, but rather, with divine assistance, bearing the church on their shoulders, – not resting in ordinances, but minis- tering the spirit, — not mourning the decay of old in- stitutions, but breathing new life into dying souls, — not contriving forms to bind and fix society, but new- creating the heart of society itself. Your immediate duty is to make the most of your- selves as ministers of Jesus Christ. Let no man de- 59 466 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE spise you. Remember, the chief reliance of Christian- ity is on the personal influence of its ministers. Not on your mode of worship, nor your place of worship; but on yourselves. Not on your regular descent from the apostles, but on your moral likeness to them. Not on any form of words or administration of rites; but on the truths you teach and the life you lead. You are to represent neither the church nor the people, but the truth. There is a higher standard than the creeds, a tribunal above popular opinion. The wisdom of antiquity is venerable; but the true antiquity is the old age, not the childhood, of the world; and even this may not bind the spirit. It must not dictate to him who is called of God to be put in trust with the gospel. The judgment of man- kind is to be listened to with deference; the feelings of men are to be treated with delicacy. But your ministry is not from them, but to them. Your appeal is to one higher than the highest of them. It is your divine commission, not to follow, but to form, opinion. Your vocation is higher than to be ministers to temples, or administrators of ordinances. It is nobler than to execute the blind wishes of men. It is, in the name of Jesus Christ, and by the aid of the Spirit of God, to inspire men with living principles, and awaken in them immortal hopes. The great business of your profession is to preach. The highest point for you to aim at, so to preach as to satisfy yourselves. There is no other practical stand- ard. To a studious, growing man it is a safe stand- RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 467 ard. It should weigh little what some flattering friend, some silver-tongued goody, male or female, whispers in our ear. The commendation of the least and weakest is grateful. But the preacher is not to take his standard from his people, however intellect- ual, or refined ; he should be a standard to them. To adapt one's self to an audience is high merit; to adapt the audience to one’s self is higher. And though a minister may not reject the counsels of his fellow-preachers, and will often receive important benefit from them, he must not allow even them to prescribe to him. Men, the most interested in us, and the best qualified to advise, seldom consider very maturely the counsel they give, and can rarely look at the subject from the same point of view with ourselves. The preacher is to be his own best counsellor. He must be willing to assume respon- sibility; he must presume to judge, and have cour- age to act. Let him, then, study to satisfy him- self. The man who has the spirit to attempt it will find it no easy task, after all. But let him try it. Once a week, or once a month, let him make a ser- mon for himself. The rest of the time, he may be content to satisfy his people. Often it will be found, that one sermon, well studied and carefully finished, will go a great ways; it will preach, under other texts, for weeks afterwards. It fixes the character of the man for a time. It raises him to vantage-ground for all his future efforts. It is a step in his advance- ment, one of the stages of his increasing hold upon 468 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE the respect and affection of his people. It is an event in his professional life. The result to be aimed at, in this effort, is no col- lection of fine passages, painfully wrought into patch- work; no curious pursuit of occult analogies; no wire-drawn speculations; but the full-formed, ripened fruit, rather, of the serious and patient study of some great subject, upon which his very best powers have been exerted, and the noblest minds consulted. It may not, after all, be the sermon to whose im- mediate influence the success of his ministry will be most frequently ascribed. But the subject of influ- ence is not always the best judge as to what converts or improves him. There will, not seldom, be as much in him who says a thing as in the thing he says. The man, whose truly sound and great efforts have given him a place in our esteem and confidence be- yond dispute or doubt, never ceases to preach to us, in the most imperfect discourses that fall from his lips. In sermons thus prepared there is not only instruc- tion for the most cultivated, but excitement for the most indifferent. The principal subjects of the gospel are never so pursued and laid open, without touching profound sensibilities in all bosoms. The preacher rises on the wings of his own thought, warms with his own conceptions. Other minds are moved ; the deep springs of the heart are reached, and living waters gush out. Such preparation for the pulpit gives it dignity, and surrounds the preacher with a RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 469 sacred atmosphere. He seems to breathe the upper air, to hold converse at once with earth and heaven. He speaks as one having authority. Every thing in him and about him is, unconsciously, brought into keeping with the spirit of his high discourse. His prayers, his parochial life, his entire character and bearing, are in accordance with it; for all flow from the same fountain of his heart. For him to live is to preach, to preach is to live. A man may be gifted with no extraordinary powers; he may not strictly be a scholar; he may be no more than most of us are capable of becoming; but so full of the great themes of the New Testament, so dig- nified and yet so bland; so subdued and reverent, and yet so firm in purpose and so noble in action, that the very scene of his life is sacred. The young speak in undertones in his presence; the old look upon him as the sweet gift of God. His speech drops fatness; his silence is society. He hath an unction of the Holy One, “like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard, that went down to the skirts of his garments.” Herein, young gentlemen, next to the indwelling influences of the Holy Spirit, or, rather, I may say, in essential connection with these influences, lies your great strength, – in the personal qualities, the moral greatness, the truthful intellect, the divine spirit of the Christian preacher. What a noble figure St. Peter would have made, 470 DISCOURSE BEFORE THE standing by the altar of sacrifice, and hailing with his message of heavenly mercy multitudes of Chris- tian worshippers in Solomon's temple ! What a subject for the painter St. Paul would have been, proclaim- ing the gospel of the Son of God to the disciples of Jesus, amid the magnificence of the temple of Diana | What a triumph it would have seemed of the cross of Christ over the superstitions of the world ! But Peter excluded from the Jewish temple, and in prison, is a nobler figure. Paul in the up- roar at Ephesus, in danger of his life in the theatre, is a better subject for the painter. In the one case, we see what greatness is in propitious circumstan- ces, and with the aids of art and outward in- fluences; in the other, what greatness is unaid- ed and alone, triumphing over obstacles, rising under oppression, — the greatness of mind, - the greatness of martyrdom. You will not, I am sure, young gentlemen, sus- pect me of undervaluing the quiet spirit of Christian love, the deep joy of a devout heart, the fragrant breath of penitential and confiding prayer, the grate- ful, holy musings of a heavenly mind. But be not deceived. These influences of the sweet heav- ens distil as well, upon the true worshipper, in the simple church of our fathers, as under the pic- tured dome of St. Peter's. They are fruits, not of outward forms nor of consecrated places, but of a thoughtful intercourse with Him who seeketh such to worship him as worship him in spirit and in truth. RHETORICAL SOCIETY AT BANGOR. 4.71 The closet of a New England Puritan has as much of heaven in it as the cell of a monastery. Your faces may be made to shine, and your lips may be touched with a coal from the altar, without forsaking the religion of your fathers. - - S P E E C H IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, ON THE MOTION BEFORE THE HOUSE TO CUT DOWN THE ACCOUNT OF DR. C. T. JACKSON, THE STATE GEOLOGIST, DEC. 17, 1844. MR. SPEAKER :—We are called upon to pay a large account for service rendered, without being able to appreciate, at once, the value and importance of that service. Most of the House have had no means of judging of the character of the work presented to us; the best informed have only glanced at it. Years will be necessary to determine its real merit. It must undergo the scrutiny of men of science, and be sub- jected to the ordeal of a careful and extended obser- vation. What its fate may be is, of course, uncer- tain. But, if any dependence may be placed on a cursory examination, or if we can rely on the judg- ment of distinguished students of natural science who have patiently read it, there is reason to believe that in this work the eminent scholar who has devoted nearly five of the best years of his life to its pro- duction will be found to have associated his name with one of the brightest and most lasting honors of New Hampshire. It is not necessary, I trust, to say a word, in order ON THE CLAIM OF THE STATE GEOLOGIST. A.73 to secure the payment of this claim. The State will fulfil its contract. The account, as now presented, somewhat reduced, with Dr. Jackson's consent, and for the purpose of effecting a speedy and amicable adjustment, will, I take it, be all paid, and paid promptly. I should have been better pleased, if no reluctance had been felt at paying the original account, in full, and at once. But it is not enough for us to satisfy the demand ; it is not sufficient to be discharged from pecuniary obligation to the State geologist. He came among us with the reputation of a man of Science ; he has traversed the State in various directions; has visited some part of nearly all the towns; has cheerfully diffused instruction, wherever he has had opportunity; and would have left not a single place of any importance unexplored, had not the time allowed him for his labors in the field expired before it was possible to accomplish all he had designed. His work is at length completed, and presented to the State. It has cost him years of toil; it contains the fruit of all his studies. He has em- bodied in it the results of extended and patient inquiry. He has spared no pains to make it an honor to himself, and to the State at whose ex- pense it has been executed. It is his favorite work, the basis of his fame. With such a man, after such a work, I would part on terms of mutual respect and good-will. 60 474, SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, Let us dismiss him from our service in good-hu- mor, and with kind regards. Let us not forget that we are the State, and he but an individual and a stranger. The question of a few hundred dollars in a great enterprise like this, and between the Commonwealth, too, on the one hand, and a defenceless scholar on the other, – why, Sir, I feel a kind of humiliation in entertaining it. - The examination of this claim before the select committee was certainly conducted with propriety. I was struck with the delicacy with which the chair- man of that committee proposed the subjects of in- quiry submitted to them. Still, I could not but feel that there was something ungracious, ungrateful to a sensitive mind, in the very proposition of that in- vestigation. The account had been already audited and allowed, and payment recommended by the standing commit- tee on claims. A second examination was to be instituted. Item by item of the account was to be gone over again. A scholar of high character, of simple purposes, of entire devotion to liberal pursuits, studying for the advancement of a favorite science, for the honor of effecting a work to bear his name down to posterity, must be, delicately and ten- derly, inquired of, whether he had not used a good deal of “alcohol” in his analysis; whether it was necessary to have all that “coal” and that “ammo- nia’’; and whether he really used up all those things, ON THE CLAIM OF THE STATE GEOLOGIST. 475 in examining the soils and minerals of New Hamp- shire; whether he had not some of them left. Mr. Speaker, when we find one of those long- nosed, sinister-eyed creatures that come in the dark to nibble at the public treasure, let us pounce upon him, let us tread on him. But when a simple-minded scholar, with an open face, a gentle heart, and a modest air, appears and asks us to pay for his bread while he has been living only to enrich us, to do for us what money can never pay for ; when, worn and pale with anxious study, he tells us that day after day, and month after month, he has given himself no rest, toiling often, over the pages of this great work, till the middle of the night and far into the morning, shall the legislature of New Hampshire look upon him with distrust, and pay him with reluc- tance P The work is worth all we give for it. It has peculiar features, and is, in some respects, superior to any thing of the kind in this country. It is the geology of New Hampshire, the natural centre of the geology of New England, - the most remarkable physical development on this part of the continent. It enables the student to start with the phenomena produced by that great convulsion of nature which threw up the White Hills, and gave its characteris- tic features to the whole vast country which slopes off from them, to the sea on one side, and to the great lakes on the other. It is a survey of those primitive strata in the constitution of the earth, which, 476 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, in our great mountains, have risen by some unknown agency, and unfolded themselves, like the petals of a flower to the sun, disclosing the mineral treasures which nature has everywhere buried deep beneath the surface of the earth. In this work all the important minerals and soils of the State yet discovered are analyzed, the heights of its mountains are measured, and tables are furnished for determining the elevation of every town above the sea. - There is prefixed to it a meat, beautiful system of geology. To it are appended treatises of agriculture and metallurgy; the former written with special refer- ence to this State, and the latter supplying a de- ficiency long felt by those engaged in assaying and reducing ores. It has been somewhat fashionable to allude to New Hampshire in terms of no great respect. And I do not stand up here to clear her legislation, or her policy, at all times, from reproach. But where shall we go to find a faultless history among our sister States ? Which of them is entitled to cast the first stone: We have not done every thing; but we have done some things, and done them well. We have among us standing monuments of the energy and liberality of the State, not unworthy to be compared with those of larger and wealthier commu- nities. The very edifice in which we are assembled, one of the earliest of the kind, is still one of the neatest, most commodious, most ample, most substan- tial in the country. To the north of us is our peni- ON THE CLAIM OF THE STATE GEOLOGIST. 477 tentiary, one of the best built and best conducted any- where erected. On yonder eminence stands a monu- ment of public and private munificence, in the taste- ful and all but perfect asylum for the insane. These costly works a small State, without a town of above eight or ten thousand inhabitants, with only a single avenue to the sea, has projected and com- pleted chiefly from the limited resources of a scattered agricultural population. They are paid for; and the State is out of debt. It is not impertinent to add, that we have, on oppo- site sides of the State, two of the best endowed and best managed academies in New England. Our Col- lege, one of the very oldest, is also, and has been ever since the Revolution, by general consent, one of the first three in the Union. When it was announced from the desk of the clerk that the geological survey of the State was finished, my first thought was, that another important enterprise had been accomplished, that another great work had been completed for New Hampshire, another monu- ment erected to her honor, another jewel set in her crown, another step, not to be retraced, taken in the true progress of our people. It is an occasion, Sir, not of petty jealousy or unkindness between us and the State geologist, but of mutual congratulation. It is matter of State pride. I doubt not it will be an era in our history, and will recommend the State to the more ardent love of its own sons, and the general regard of all the students of the earth’s surface. º º R E M A. R. K. S IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, DEC, 18, 1844, ON THE BILL TO COMMUTE THE SENTENCE OF W. F. COMINGS. MR. SPEAKER : — From the variety of questions incidentally connected with this bill, it is important to distinguish the precise point to be settled by us on this occasion; and to avoid, if possible, the ob- scurity and perplexity very certain to result from in- distinct notions of the proper powers of the legis- lature. The bill proposes the commutation of the sen- tence of death pronounced upon William F. Comings to imprisonment for life in the State-prison. Of the power of the legislature to change or to abolish the penalty for murder there can be no doubt. The authority which enacts a statute is competent to annul or alter that statute. But the proposition in this bill is not to annul or alter a statute ; it is to re- judge a case which has arisen and been tried accord- ing to law under the statute as it now exists. It is to set aside the verdict of the jury by whom the convict was adjudged to be guilty of murder, and declare him innocent; or to change the sentence by which he ON COMMUTING THE SENTENCE OF COMINGS. 479 was condemned to be hung, the only penalty by law annexed to the crime, and to substitute for it the sen- tence of imprisonment for life. Is this strictly a legislative act? Is it not rather a judicial act It is plainly neither repealing nor amending the criminal law ; it is not saying what shall be the law. It is pronouncing upon the guilt or innocence of a man accused and condemned under the law. It is not declaring what the penalty of mur- der shall be, but whether that penalty shall be exe- cuted or not executed in a particular instance. In my judgment, the act of this House proposed in the bill before us has all the character and effect of a judicial proceeding. It supposes this body to assume the office of a court of law, a court of appeal from the decision of the Superior Court of New Hampshire. If the principle of the bill be admitted, the decis- ions of the highest judicial tribunal known to the Con- stitution are not ultimate, are not final. There is a tribunal higher, by which its judgments may be re- judged, and its decrees reversed. Is it so Is the legislature thus confounded with the judiciary 2 Is the maxim, that the different de- partments of government should be kept separate, or only so far suffered to interfere with each other as by mutual checks to preserve their mutual independence and secure the utmost practicable separation, so disre- garded in our Constitution P It were a most strange and anomalous system of 480 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, jurisprudence to institute a superior court of judica- ture, composed of men selected for their legal learning and profound wisdom, secured from irregular, or par- tial, or unjust adjudication by rules of evidence and reasonable forms of trial; and yet to allow appeal, in cases of the greatest moment to the individual and to the State, cases of life and death, from this guard- ed and severe tribunal, to a popular assembly sitting without the accused, without witnesses, without advice from legal authorities, and, on ea parte repre- sentations, exercising the sublime prerogative of a high court of final appeal. Can this have been the intention of the framers of the Constitution of New Hampshire f That Constitution has made provision for relief from unjust judgments accidentally rendered through human infirmity, and from penalties in partic- ular cases by law imposed against the general sense of humanity. But where has it lodged this remedial authority P Not in the legislature; not in the court; but in the executive. The executive is charged by the Constitution with the general pardoning power, and, as an incident to that, with the power of reprieve, to suspend from time to time the execution of the sentence of the court. If the convict suffers wrongfully, his remedy is in the mercy of the executive. There the Constitution has placed his only remaining hope. There let him apply. It is relief from the penalty which he wants; not an alteration of the law. Why should the House transgress the limits of its appropriate action to meet ON COMMUTING THE SENTENCE OF COMINGS. 481 a case for which the Constitution has made express provision in another department of the government? Why commingle and confound what the Constitution of the State, in accordance with the best established principles of political science, has separated by a clear and palpable line of distinction ? What necessity is there for it in the case of this unfortunate individ- ual? It may be that he has been harshly judged; he may have suffered wrong; there is a possibility that he is not guilty of the enormous crime for which he is condemned to suffer death upon the gallows. If the publication upon which our knowledge of the sub- ject is founded presents the case, the whole case, as it went to the jury, I am afraid that an innocent man is condemned to death; and had Providence laid me under the solemn responsibilities of the executive, I should not, without better information, dare to sign the warrant for his execution. If the case brought to this House is true, I would pardon him to-morrow. But where is our warrant for supposing this to be the case on which the verdict of the jury was ren- dered? If other light is to be had, it is in the pow- er of the governor to suspend the execution of the Sentence till he is satisfied. But it is a matter for him, not us, to decide. It is one of his high duties to afford relief from accidental evils under the administration of general laws. Observe, Sir, the alternative presented to this man, -death, or imprisonment for life And we are pe- 61 482 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE. titioned to substitute imprisonment for death, for the reason that the convict is probably innocent. If really guilty, he ought to die; if innocent, to be confined to hard labor in the penitentiary for life But, if not guilty of murder, he has done other things worthy of imprisonment Sir, if not guilty of murder, he is guilty of no crime; the law holds him to be innocent, until he be proved guilty. If guilty of murder, he should be hung. That is the language of the law; it is the language of the people of this State. We are called upon to take part of the responsibil- ity of his Excellency. I sympathize with him. It is a fearful thing to put his hand to the instrument that consigns a fellow-creature to the gallows. If his Excellency needs the support of this House in what may seem to him to be the discharge of his duty, he will have it; he may rely on it. But few men need it so little; it cannot be doubted by those who know him, that an honest, and fearless, and self- sustained performance of what he sees to be his duty is the prominent trait of his personal and official character. And what if it were otherwise P What if he stood alone P Let him do right; let him dispense the mer- cy which the Constitution has reposed in his hand. Nothing can harm him; the spirit of the man will sustain him. S P E E C H IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, DECEM. BER, 1844, ON THE RESOLUTIONS INSTRUCTING OUR REPRE- SENTATIVES IN CONGRESS TO VOTE FOR THE OCCUPATION OF OREGON, AND THE ANNEXATION OF TEXAS TO THE UNITED STATES. MR. SPEAKER : — I had not wished to say a word upon the subject of these resolutions. But, as a free- man, as the son of a free State, I could not justify myself to my own conscience, and I deem it not too solemn to say, to God, if I should sit here and see such resolutions pass this House, upon the reasons as- signed, without opening my mouth in ever so humble an effort to save the miserable slave and the country from the action of the general government, which it is the intention of these resolutions to invite and hasten. I entirely agree with the gentleman who last ad- dressed the House, in his beautiful eulogy of the Saxon race, everywhere predominant over the other tribes of men, and destined to people the Far West, and the rich and inviting plains of Texas. But, Sir, if I read her history aright, England, - “ the pirates of the British Isles,” as the gentleman says, – England, so watchful of an opportunity to seize upon these fertile plains, is herself the very flower and 484, SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, glory of the Saxon race. I am no apologist for her pride of dominion, her injustice, her oppressions; she has caused tears and blood enough to float the royal navy. But I cannot forget that a few generations ago she was the home of our ancestors; that from her they drew their free principles, their virtuous spirit, their moral greatness. I do not forget that we are ourselves still a part of the original Saxon stock that peopled Great Britain. The sins of the parent should provoke any thing but disrespect and unkindness in the child. With all her faults and her shame, she is still magnificent, glorious; wonderful in intellect, and sublime in acts of goodness. America is but an im- provement of herself, an offshoot from the same root, fresh and green, already lifting its head above the pa- rent stock, and covered all over with bursting buds. I assent to all the gentleman has so well said of the fair and fertile Southwest, a land of hills and streams and inexhaustible riches. But are all this beauty and fertility a reason why the American eagle should stretch his broad wings over this neighbour of the setting sun ? There is Mexico, too, with her mines, and her pla- teaus of perennial verdure and flowers. Beyond is South America, rich in all natural wealth. Are we therefore to covet Mexico and South America P And there are fine fields beyond the sea, now brought within eight or ten days’ sail of us. Are these also to be covered by our Constitution, because they are beautiful to the eye, and things to be de- ON THE ANNEXATION OF TEXAS. 485 sired I am shocked, Sir, to hear it avowed in either end of the Capitol, that not only Texas, but the Can- adas and Mexico, would be acquisitions to us; I am amazed that any gentleman can contemplate their ac- cession to this Union without alarm. The question before us is, in my judgment, not a question of foreign conquest, or extended domin- ion, but of domestic safety, of internal well-being, of political life and prosperity. And my objection to the resolutions is, in the first place, that, so far as they can have any influence, they go to induce im- mediate, precipitate action by the general govern- ment upon the most important question presented to the country since the adoption of the Federal Constitu- tion, — action touching vital public interests, before the fever of the late election has had time to subside, while the passions of men are yet glowing with the heat of a fiery conflict. It is not a time for temper- ate, comprehensive views, or wise and safe legis- lation. I object to these resolutions, in the second place, because the action of the general government for which they ask may, not improbably, without infinite caution, disturb the peace of the continent, and per- haps of the world. Questions of national right and national honor are involved. We cannot move with too much circumspection and deliberation. It would ill become the great republic, the modern model of a free and happy government, blessed so long with peace and enriched by its fruits, to be the first to A86 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, break up the good understanding and good feel- ing of the nations. She ought to shrink back from doing so. I object to the resolutions, because they encourage a public policy dangerous to the union and harmony of these States. It was justly observed in the north wing of the Cap- itol, the other day, that we have demonstrated the practicability of a free government over a wide extent of territory. We have done so. But on what does our security in this wide-spread government mainly depend ? Why, doubtless, on the variety of our pur- suits and interests, in the great sections of the country. A Northern interest, a Western interest, and a Southern interest are means of preserving our com- mon American interest. Material differences, in near- ly equal portions of the Union, act as mutual checks, and keep alive a common respect for a common cen- tral power. The weakness of the parts is the strength of the whole. The North can effect nothing against the South and West combined ; the West nothing against the North and South. But what is to be our relative condition, when five new States, as large as Virginia, are carved out of Texas, and peopled with a population, homogeneous in feeling, and institutions, and interests, with the Southern members of the Union 2 What will the North, or even the great West, be then, in the gov- ernment of the country? A speck on the political map; a corner of the land. A Southern policy, a ON THE ANNEXATION OF TEXAS. 487 Southern spirit, must then predominate without re- straint. In such an event, it needs no prophet to assure us, it is the lesson of history, it is the admo- nition of experience, that our Union must of course fall to pieces; its elements will lose their cohesive principle, and the country of our fathers be known no more in history. I object to the resolutions, because the event which they propose to hasten is fraught with danger to the democratic spirit of the government. The feeling of our people has been from the be- ginning that of the utmost individual freedom and personal independence, — a feeling of profound regard for the rights of every man, however humble his con- dition, — a feeling of the natural equality of men. On this feeling the fundamental democratic principles of our society and our institutions are based. It is the essential spirit of American liberty; and has hither- to been strong enough, and general enough, to mark Our national character. But can any man doubt that this principle is utterly at war with the whole system of slavery, -that both cannot coexist as general features of the same com- munity P The relation of master and slave is, in its nature, and in all degrees, essentially aristocratic, antirepublican, and, so far as it prevails, necessarily inconsistent with the full development of the true New England democratic liberty. I say nothing of Southern men, of the present or of any former gen- erations; I know the services which the South has 488 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, rendered to the cause of freedom, and the eminent worth and true principle of many, very many, of her sons; I speak only of tendencies in her domestic in- stitutions, tendencies as certain to be manifested as human nature is to discover itself in human history. What, then, is the country to expect, when five new States, large, populous, powerful States, shall have been added to the southern section of the Union, and when, of course, the influence always hitherto prečm- inent in our public councils shall be augmented beyond all competition, and all control or direction; when, in a word, it shall become the only unmixed American feeling? Is it within the bounds of probability, that, when that day comes, the democratic spirit, the New England spirit, will be still alive among us? I trow not. A principle deep laid in domestic life, cherished in us from infancy to manhood by our daily employ- ments and associations, and yet at war with all true feeling of a common, popular, universal liberty, must, in the nature of things, ultimately consume and an- nihilate that liberty. I have, Sir, one more objection. It is the gravest and most insuperable of all. The resolutions propose a public measure, the natural and necessary effect of which must be the extension, and, I fear, the perpetu- ation of American slavery, of slavery under the pro- tection of the free Constitution of these States. Gentlemen tell us that slavery is not about to be introduced into Texas by annexation to the Union ; that it already exists there. Very true; and there let ON THE ANNEXATION OF TEXAS. 489 it be. I care not, I was going to say, where else it ex- ists; but I do care; I am grieved to know that this outrage upon humanity can be perpetuated, or toler- ated, anywhere on the face of the earth. Let not us, however, be accessory to the extension ; let us not cover it with the shield of the Constitution, where that Constitution does not already authorize and de- fend it, — that free Constitution, not “cursed Consti- tution,” as we have lately heard it called in a neigh- bouring place; no, Sir, that glorious Constitution I have no sympathy or patience with the miserable slang about the Constitution. And I have just as little sympathy with slavery, and every project for its ex- tension, or increase, or perpetuation, under this Con- stitution. - We are told that annexation is a measure for the extinction of negro slavery in America. A measure for the extinction of slavery the leading, darling measure of the South, so sensitive to the slightest dangers that threaten her peculiar domestic institu- tions, so indignant at the least whisper of Northern disapprobation of slavery, the favorite measure of the South for the final extinction of slavery ! There is nothing in it; no man can believe it. It is a scheme for the increase and security of slavery; it can be nothing else. And if we put our hand to it, we are thereby made responsible, to the full extent of our influence, for the continuance and increase of the atrocious wrong, the sin, the shame, of inflicting the countless miseries of a weary and hopeless bondage 62 490 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE. upon successive generations of the African race; a bondage which cuts them off, for no crime but their weakness, from all the charities of life, and the hopes of heaven. Sir, I feel, circulating warm in me, the Saxon blood to which the gentleman alluded, while I am speaking on this subject. And I appeal to the members of this House, as sons of New England, as free citi- zens of New Hampshire, to consider what they are about to do. I implore them, I adjure them by their love of liberty, by their sense of humanity, by their fear of God, to give no countenance to this project, to have no communion with it. R. E M A. R. K. S IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, DEC. 17, 1844, ON THE BILL FOR THE APPOINTMENT OF A COMMISSION- ER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. MR. SPEAKER : — The subject of Common Schools is one of deep interest to the community. It is of peculiar interest to those of us who are engaged in education. And it is an encouraging fact, that edu. cated men are so generally devoting an unusual de- gree of attention to it. At the College, though situ- ated on the western border of the State, the improve- ment of common schools, in all parts of it, is a sub- ject of frequent remark and increasing anxiety. Our young men come from the common schools; there they learn the elements of the language which they are to speak, and acquire many of the habits which are to distinguish them through life. Most of them are also teachers. Through them we learn the con- dition of the schools; and through them we are able to act on the schools for their improvement, and to assist the friends of a sound popular education, all over the State, in rendering them as perfect as the nature of the case admits. The bill before the House was carefully framed by 492 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, - a respectable committee, the chairman of which has been a long time devoting the energies of a clear mind, and the resources of a thoughtful life, to the elevation of the schools in his own neighbourhood. His efforts, in conjunction with men of similar public spirit, have resulted in a degree of success which has made his vicinity one of the green spots in New Hampshire. The bill was introduced in conformity with the repeated and earnest solicitations of large conventions of the friends of an improved popular education. It expresses, I believe, the sentiments of a large part of our people, and the most anxious wishes of the best informed and best taught portions of the State. It is remarkable that the least dispo- sition to improve is felt just where least improvement has been made. Her common schools have been the boast of New England. And yet, within a few years, we have seen France going before us in her public measures for availing herself of the experience of others. She sent one of her ablest scholars and statesmen to in- quire into the system of popular instruction in Prus- sia. His report excited the surprise of the world. Prussia has outstripped New England. And even in the frozen North, where the farmer mows his grass whilst the waters are trickling at his feet from the mountains of snow that overhang his green vale, – even in Sweden and Norway, for centuries shrouded in mist, while Southern Europe has been enjoying our attention, there is not a man who cannot read. Do- ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 493 mestic life is, perhaps, more truly intellectual there than in any other nation of the world. New Hampshire must not think to repose upon her early honors. She must go on, or she will be left behind. The bill proposes a means of concentrating the best thoughts of reflecting men in all parts of the State. It provides for embodying the experience of teachers. It seeks to secure to every town the ad- vantage of the intelligence and success of every oth- er town. It creates a centre of information, a re- sponsible head of a system of united effort. It opens channels of communication to the remotest school-dis- trict. And it provides for securing, through an authorized agent of the State, a regular intercourse with other States and other parts of the world upon the great subject of common school instruction, schoolhouses, schoolbooks, and school-discipline. It applies no compulsion, no restraint; it interferes with no committee or community. It proposes to obtain and to diffuse LIGHT, as harmless and as grateful as that of heaven. By means of the knowledge thus accumulated and dispensed, it provides for an efficient appeal to the principle of emulation. It goes upon the supposition that an ambition will be awakened, if not to excel, at least to appear respectable. It will go to create a popular standard of education, and thus to elevate the whole State to the position of the best taught portions of it. The spirit of improvement is diffusive; public 494, SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, sentiment is not easily resisted. Towns will not be content at the foot of the catalogue. One of the worst evils of the present state of our schools is the fact, that parents who can afford it send to private teachers. The consequence is twofold. The school loses the influence of children of the best advantages at home, children of the better educated and wealthier fami- lies; and those children themselves grow up with false ideas of merit and respectability. - One well trained, well-mannered boy is of great use to a school. His spirit, his habits, his mode of thinking and acting, are caught insensibly by oth- ers. He is a model, a model to those of his own age. On the other hand, a public school is of great use to boys belonging to families placed by accidental circumstances above their neighbours in life. It is hard to keep such boys from being ruined. They grow up to feel that they are privileged, that they be- long to a kind of nobility. They get airs and as- sume consequence, without knowing how little these airs and this consequence become them. It is good for such boys to measure themselves with their equals in age of a humbler condition in life. It may teach them that intellect, capacity to learn, does not depend on wealth or office. It may give them truer notions of merit, and more respect for real worth. The expense is comparatively little. One thousand dollars a year are to be laid out in a carefully meditated experiment, to ascertain the best way of applying an- ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 495 nually a hundred thousand dollars to the education of our children, – to the carrying out, in the business of popular instruction, the true democratic doctrine of “The greatest good of the greatest number.” R. E M A R K S IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, JUNE 18, 1844, ON THE RESOLUTION APPROPRIATING FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS TO THE ASYLUM FOR THE INSANE. MR. SPEAKER : — The resolution before the House proposes an appropriation of five thousand dollars for the purpose of erecting an additional building upon the grounds of the insane asylum. The present ac- commodations do not admit of a proper confinement of the more violent inmates of that institution, with- out putting them into underground cells of damp and gloomy stone, closed alike to the light of day and to the fragrant air. A human creature, though bereft of reason, cut off from sympathy with his friends and all converse with kindred beings, is yet, so long as he lives, sensible to the sweet breath of morning, and may be soothed by the cheerful face and the gentle voices of nature; it will be soon enough to bury him when he is dead. It is, indeed, a considerable sum which the resolution proposes to add to our expendi- tures for this object. The institution has been estab- lished at great expense. It is a monument of public munificence and private charity worthy of any State. It is one of the richest and costliest ornaments of ON AN APPROPRIATION FOR THE INSANE ASYLUM. 497 New Hampshire. But, however narrow our resources, our true policy is to do well what we do at all, to finish what we begin, to perfect the institutions we see fit to establish. It is wise in states, as it is in individuals, to be prudent, cautious in enterprise, slow to embark upon the sea of adventure. But when, in the exercise of our best discretion, we have once undertaken a work of magnitude, we should know no alternative but to complete it; trivial obstacles should be scorned; necessary sacrifices should be manfully made ; the original purpose, the well medi- tated enterprise, should be carried out. It is only thus that individual greatness and true political re- spectability are ever attained. I honor economy, public or private. To be able to give, we must have acquired. National wealth is the aggregate of individual accumulations; and indi- vidual accumulation is, of necessity, slow and pain- ful. It is possible only where the public burdens are not heavy, and private habits not wasteful. I know it is comparatively easy to make money; industry is cre- ative; time is money; mind is money; in our happy country, a proper man, in ordinary health, has unfail- ing resources in himself. The great source of pover- ty in states and families is not the want of ability to gain, but of ability to keep. It is not so much impotence in acquiring, as prodigality in spending. We thrive rather by saving than by getting. And therefore it is a public virtue to be scrupulous of pub- lic expenditures. A prodigal government cannot last. 63 498 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, But it is not economy to leave our plans half exe- cuted; to abandon enterprises half accomplished; to suffer a noble structure to fall to ruin, or to fail of its end, for want of a roof. That money is well spent which is necessary to carry out the grand de- sign of former expenditures. The state owes it to itself to see that nothing which ordinary means can effect, nothing possible to public enterprise and patriotic zeal, is wanting to make every public work the fittest possible for its end, the most perfect of its kind, a standard for the future action of the state itself, and a model to all states. The state is educated by its own works. It never does any one thing well, without doing every thing else the better for it. There is a useful pride in emi- ment propriety and excellence; it elevates the charac- ter of states as well as citizens. The general object for which this appropriation is proposed must commend itself to the House, and to the people of the State. It is to provide for a class of sufferers for whom no private provision can be made. In all other diseases, the natural and proper place for the patient is his own home, among his own kindred. His best relief is ministered by the hand of affection; his sweetest solace is found in the offices of unwearied love, where heart has joined with heart in days of health and happiness. But this disease, striking at the very seat of thought and love, corrupts the fountains of domestic joy, and poisons the intercourse of life. Under its baneful influence, the offices of kindness are ON AN APPROPRIATION FOR THE INSANE ASYLUM. 499 rejected, the proffers of affection are repelled, the heart turns with distrust and dislike from the objects to which it was wont to cling with fondness. To the distracted man, haunted by unreal terrors, and pos- sessed with perverted imaginations, there is no home ; the sense of having one is extinguished in him. Oth- er scenes and strange forms are more grateful to him. There is no refuge for him so proper, he can have no care so soothing, as the State provides in her asylum for the insane. When, with the committee of the House, I visited that beautiful institution, and passed from room to room, and observed the order, the neatness, the com- fort of its arrangements, I thought how much we owe to the divine religion under whose genial mercy such charities have all sprung up, to illustrate her heavenly spirit, and to commemorate her triumphs. In the prosecution of our duty, the committee de- scended into the cellar; an iron door, that moved heavily on its hinges, was slowly opened, and, in a dark, dank cell, some four feet wide and eight feet long, with one narrow opening for the admission of the subterranean air, was a man, leaning over a pallet of straw, at which he seemed to be idly picking with a vagrant hand, apparently unconscious of our pres- ence. The door was again closed, and we turned away. But, as I glanced once more at the little opening into this living tomb, I saw the poor man fol- lowing us with his wildered eye towards the precincts of day and of happy life. And I felt that it is unfit, 500 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE. that it becomes us not, to consign a fellow-creature and a man, a father it may be, or a son, or a brother, to that shadow of death, because it hath pleased a mysterious Providence to cut him off from the inter- course and sympathies of life. It is not too much, Mr. Speaker, for the friends of these unfortunate men, the friends of humanity, to ask of the State that she would provide a place, in the vicinity of the asylum, where the raving mad may not disturb the more quiet sufferers from this awful malady, and yet enjoy, in their deep and dreadful misery, what it may please God to administer to minds diseased through the serene and kindly influ- ences of the fair earth and the open heavens. S P E E C H IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, JUNE 25, 1845, ON THE BILL RELATIVE TO REPRESENTING STOCK IN CERTAIN CASES. MR. SPEAKER:—The policy of this State has re- cently been to restrict somewhat the privileges and powers of corporations. The general feeling upon which this policy has been supported among the people I am not disposed to condemn ; jealousy of power, and particularly of power vested in bodies which perpetuate themselves, is natural to a free people, and the chief safeguard of liberty. That this policy has, however, been carried farther than a due regard to liberty requires, farther than is consistent with the full advantages of government, is begin- ning to be seen by many who have heretofore sup- ported it. The bill before the House provides that manufac- turing and railroad corporations may, with certain limitations, adopt their own rules for the representa- tion of stock. The effect of the bill is so far to repeal the statute which prohibits voting by proxy in such companies, that an owner of stock may exer- 502 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, cise by an attorney the same powers which he may exercise in person. The law, as it stands, appears to me liable to seri- ous objection; if it so seem to the legislature, there can be no reason for continuing it. If it be found to involve consequences not anticipated by its framers, and to impede instead of advancing the prosperity of the State, it should be repealed. It would be prepos- terous, upon any party or personal considerations, to sustain it. It cannot be so sustained; I am very sure there is no disposition in this legislature so to sus- tain it. There is, in the first place, a degree of inequality and injustice in its operation. There is no other in- stance in the conduct of business, in which a man may not authorize a son or a friend to do for him what he might lawfully do for himself. It is well understood that men may enter into contracts, may bind themselves and others, may convey their estates, and receive conveyances, by authorized agents; and no evil results from the practice, but great conven- ience to all parties. What forbids that the same priv- ilege should be enjoyed by joint-stock companies? What is there peculiar to this kind of business, that makes it unsafe to the public for a man to delegate to another the precise power which he is authorized to exercise in person P. It cannot be the intention of the law to give a part of the members of a corpo- ration the exclusive management of its affairs. If, however, a member be sick, or abroad on business, ON REPRESENTING STOCK IN CERTAIN CASES. 503 or called to similar duties elsewhere at the same time, the consequence is, that the voice of that mem- ber cannot be heard in that corporation ; he is ex- cluded from any share in the conduct of their busi- ness; he is, thus far, virtually no member of the corporation. Gentlemen must see, that, by the oper- ation of this law, important classes of owners of stock are excluded from any active concern in the compa- nies of which they are members. Old men, retired from more active pursuits, and living on the interest of their money, infirm men, women, guardians of minors, all persons living at a distance from the place of meeting and owning small amounts of stock, are really, to all effects, denied a voice in the common business of the corporation. They are not, howev- er, exonerated from loss or responsibility; they are liable for errors and mismanagement in the business; liable for losses and abuses, which they had no power to prevent, and which they had no hand in produc- ing. What renders the law more unreasonable is, that the very persons thus disqualified for acting are made responsible, not only in the amount of their stock, but in their whole estate, for the debts of the company. A man may consent to have suspended on the action of associates whatever he may choose to invest in a common stock for a particular purpose; but to be obliged to hold all he has in the world liable to answer for the mistakes of other people is not right. 504 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, No man willingly feels that his entire estate is thus exposed. The natural result of the law must be, that the business of corporations will be done chiefly by those who live about the place of meeting. Cliques in towns will manage the capital, and conduct the most important business operations of the people. The tendency is, clearly, to the organization of a central power in each of a few large places, and thus to create a real moneyed aristocracy, — an aristocracy sustained and rendered powerful, not by wealth slowly and patiently acquired, but by the control, in a cor- porate capacity, of other people's money, the most ir- responsible and the most dangerous of all aristocra- cies. A still more important objection to the present law is, that the tendency of it is to discourage the in- vestment of capital in the State. New Hampshire is mainly agricultural. Some large manufacturing villages have grown up of late; but we have no town of more than eight or nine thou- sand inhabitants, and but one avenue to the sea, the - great theatre of commerce. We are near to the cap- ital of New England, and in easy communication with it. Our habits of trade lead us there; our liter- ary and moral associations all connect us intimately with Boston. Our distinguished men, our successful merchants, our ingenious mechanics, our men of en- terprise, naturally centre there. Boston is, therefore, as to many important relations and influences, as ON REPRESENTING STOCK IN CERTAIN CASES. 505 much the great town, – the grand money-market, — the place of commerce in stocks, – the place of in- vestment for capital, - for New Hampshire, as it is for Massachusetts. It must be so for local and per- manent reasons. No public policy can change the natural order of things. To Boston, of course, New Hampshire, as well as Massachusetts, must always look for a large part of the capital she may need to give activity to her indus- try, and to sustain her enterprises. But New Hampshire is not alone looking to Bos- ton for capital. Maine, Vermont, New York, Ohio, Michigan, Illinois, Iowa even, go to the same fountain. The land is full of enterprises, well reasoned, well planned, conceived with care, and carried forward with energy, and all requiring capital, -immense amounts of capital, for which good interest and ample security are offered. In this state of things, how preposterous it must be for us to assume that we can impose unusual re- strictions upon the control of vested moneys by their owners, that we can place peculiar obstacles in the way of those institutions which take up the disposa- ble capital of New England, and yet find this capital flowing hither! It will not be so, Sir ; it cannot be so. If our legislation is unfriendly to the manage- ment of capital according to the discretion and the wishes of those who have capital to manage, they will seek to place it elsewhere. Our own capital it- self will emigrate. It does so now ; millions of New 64 506 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, - Hampshire capital have been invested out of the State. Portsmouth has half a million so invested. It is true, large sums have been invested here under the present laws; but they are not a tithe of what would have been invested here under a different sys- tem; and they have been invested here, to a consid- erable extent, under a strong impression that we should ultimately see it to be our true policy to adopt a different system. - The true interest of the State is to encourage capi- tal, to invite it from abroad, to render the investment of it here an object, to make its management so satis- factory to its owners, and its rewards so certain, so regular, so ample, that we can go into the great money-market of New England, and contract upon the best conditions for all we need to give occupation to the industry of the State. The great immediate want of New Hampshire is capital. It is obvious that the elements of production may all be reduced to two, industry, and capital, - the accumulations of preceding industry. Industry to work, and capital to work with. These, in due proportion, are the means of all wealth, of all prosperity in business. They coöperate, and cannot be separated. They are de- pendent the one upon the other. Neither can pro- duce alone; each is interested in the increase of the other. Material cannot be wrought without labor; labor can effect nothing without material. And in proportion as industry is multiplied, the materials of industry are in demand ; as the materials of industry ON REPRESENTING STOCK IN CERTAIN CASES. 507 increase, labor is wanted. This is all too plain for argument. And yet the consequence does not seem to be perceived always, that, when capital, which, in its various forms, is the material of production, is abundant and cheap, industry is proportionally in de- mand and high. The more of capital there is to be worked up, the more of labor, of all kinds, there must be to work it. It is only in poor countries that men find nothing to do. Except under peculiar circum- stances, during some temporary stagnation of busi- ness, resulting from political or other causes, it must be always and everywhere true, that surplus capital, seeking profit, will call forth industry, without which, capital is unproductive and dead; and that the richest people are, for that reason, the most indus- trious people. Not only does industry augment wealth, but wealth also stimulates and rewards industry. And what is the condition of New Hampshire A long, narrow State, she has the great river of New England, with its numerous and rapid tributaries, watering her entire western half; and the Merrimack, rising in the highest land in the United States, run- ning, before it reaches the Massachusetts line, a hun- dred and fifty miles, – that is, within ten miles of the extreme length of the State, and draining all its cen- tral portions. The eastern branch of the Merrimack is the outlet of one of our largest lakes. Casting the eye over this whole territory, one is struck with two things, – the vast extent of excellent water-power, and 508 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, the fitness of the soil and climate for the production of precisely those things for which a manufacturing community presents a constant and unlimited demand, but which, at the same time, require a market near by. With manufacturing villages upon our rivers, the agriculture of our hills and valleys would be stim- ulated all over the State; and an impulse given to every art, and every science, and every enterprise, which has for its object to develope the resources and turn to account the treasures of one of the richest in natural products, as it is one of the most pictu- resque and romantic, of the States of the Union. Indeed, considering the physical features of New Hampshire, its mineral wealth, its fertile intervals, its prolific waters, its vicinity to the centre of intel- ligence and social culture for New England, not to say for the whole land, and, what I can hardly help reckoning even among its extraordinary economical resources, its unsurpassed and ever varying natural scenery, it looks to me impossible, Mr. Speaker, but that this little commonwealth, under a wise hus- bandry of our resources, should come to be as con- spicuous and as peculiar for its social elevation and its moral beauty, as it is for the height of its hills and the verdure of its meadows. There are two circumstances, equally striking, which cannot fail to arrest the attention of the ob- server, in the history of our population. Elderly men leave the State, because a lucrative profession or a prosperous trade has made them rich enough to appear ON REPRESENTING STOCK IN CERTAIN CASES. 509 among the capitalists of Boston; and our young men go off in quest of business. The older carry away cap- ital, - the younger, industry. And in both cases, for the most part, it is the more enterprising of the two classes that emigrate. By this process the State is doubly injured; the best mind, the most perfect skill, the most desirable character, as well as the indus- try and capital of the State, go to add to the resources and greatness of other communities. On some accounts, this is all well; it is, undoubtedly, propagating more extensively the spirit of our Puri- tan fathers, the spirit of New England; but for our own State nothing is so much to be regretted. And whatever in our public policy may be supposed to favor this disposition to emigrate is, it seems to me, deserving of the deepest consideration. To encourage our young men to seek their fortunes nearer home, instead of pursuing visions of wealth and consideration in the West, — to make their native State a scene of ever aspiring enterprise and well rewarded industry, and thus to retain around her, in proud affection and devoted loyalty, her worthiest and most hopeful sons, should be, at this time, the first, the leading object of New Hampshire. In this view, Mr. Speaker, I feel more deeply than I can express the importance of immediate and decisive action upon the subject of the rights and privileges of corporations. And I cannot but hope, that, before this legislature adjourns, some such measure, at least, as this bill proposes will 510 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE. be adopted, with a degree of unanimity which shall mark and fix the determination of the people to suffer nothing to be left undone that is con- nected with the general welfare and progress of the State. R E M A. R. K. S IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, JUNE 27, 1845, ON THE BILL TO AUTHORIZE CONTIGUOUS SCHOOL- DISTRICTS TO ASSOCIATE TOGETHER TO ESTABLISH AND MAIN- TAIN HIGH SCHOOLS. MR. SPEAKER : —This bill provides that two or more contiguous school-districts may unite to form a high-school district, and may appropriate a por- tion of the common-school money to the main- tenance of a high school. In this school branches are to be taught which are not allowed by law to be taught in our common schools. The intention of the bill is to secure to our children, the poorest as well as the richest, wherever such high schools shall be established, all the usual advantages and benefits of our academies; to prepare them for college, or to fit them for any of the various higher callings and pursuits of life for which a college education is not deemed indispensable. The effect of it, should it become a law, will be to diffuse over a much wider circle the blessings of a somewhat liberal and ex- tremely useful kind of knowledge, to give to a larger proportion of our people habits of superior mental discipline, and to open to them new sources of in- tellectual and rational enjoyment. 512 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, The elements of education are taught in our schools; and few children can be found in the State who do not receive them. This is much; as much, perhaps, as was proper to be aimed at, by means of public schools, at first ; but it is not all we ought ul- timately to propose to ourselves. He who knows how to read has, it is true, all other knowledge open to him ; he possesses the key that unlocks the vast storehouse of truth ; he need not despair, with the blessing of health, of any distinction which mind and the treasures of thought can confer. But some- thing beyond the mere ability to read is ordinarily necessary to awaken the intellect and engage it in useful acquisitions. Certain mental habits, the satis- faction of knowledge, curiosity for truth, the idea of the beautiful or wonderful in man or nature, and what, perhaps, involves all these, the delightful and ennobling sense of an inward, intellectual, independ- ent life, capable of subsisting alone, a fountain of en- joyment to itself, - these are necessary to produce an earnest use of the means of improvement. With- out some such development, the mere elements taught in the schools, though they do distinguish us from those who cannot read, and who can only make their mark, are really scarcely deserving of the name of education. Something more than these, therefore, should be acquired, if possible, by our sons and daughters, – an education which shall insure, in all upon whom Prov- idence has bestowed the usual amount of mental ON THE ESTABLISHMENT OF HIGH SCHOOLS. 513 capacity, a future and constantly increasing intel- lectual activity and culture. For such an education the period in which we live offers eminent facilities, both in the improved methods of teaching, and in our knowledge of the subjects most useful to be taught. A new world of natural science has been opened to the common mind; connecting us more sensibly with every thing around us, and more intimately with every thing above us; unfolding to us new sources of interest in the most indifferent outward objects; and giving to life a new value, by disclosing more fully the wonders of the scene in which we live. These ob- jects of natural knowledge are, it seems to me, the proper introduction of the mind to all desirable men- tal cultivation; they are the true starting-points in a system of popular education. Natural history, phys- iology, chemistry, geology, and natural philosophy and astronomy, in themselves full of interest, soon open into fields of exciting and charming thought, in history, biography, poetry, and art. The habits of mind which they promote are all useful, and the as- sociations they create, innocent and elevating. It is one of the recommendations of this extended in- struction of our common schools, that, in thus generat- ing a taste for study, we are drying up the springs of vice in the public mind, we are concentrating high- er objects of attraction around the fireside, and giv- ing to home and to domestic life a more controlling in- fluence as elements of personal and national character. Nor is it simply for the benefits which these higher 65 514 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, schools may be expected to confer on those admitted to them, that I advocate the passage of this bill. We should not forget, Mr. Speaker, that the effect will be, indirectly, to raise the standard of education in all the common schools. It will be an object of ambition to be admitted to the high School. And those educated there beyond the general standard of the community will in time become themselves sources of education, not as professed teachers only, but as citi- zens, as men and women, as fathers and mothers. Domestic discipline will become more perfect, as suc- cessive generations of those who preside over the charities of domestic life are themselves better taught. And Schools, in their turn, are made very much what home is, where these schools are kept. Unintelligent, ill-regulated families are never blessed with good schools. The scholarship, and propriety, and courtesy of a school are owing, more than is always imag- ined, to the drilling and prompting behind the scene. A well taught, right-minded mother is a public teach- er without wages, a centre of good influences, a radiant point in life. A cultivated man, of reason- ed opinions, of sober views, and a considerate be- nevolence, is a spring of living water; the earth is greener and the air is sweeter about him. Sir, it is by example chiefly that society is im- proved. And examples must be made somewhere, the uses of knowledge must be illustrated, the beauty of character must be exhibited, or communities will continue to present the same stagnant aspect, year (ON THE ESTABLISHMENT OF HIGH SCHOOLS. 515 after year. The bill before the House proposes a measure for the higher cultivation of the better talent, wherever found in our common schools; this cultiva- tion it offers to the humblest equally with the rich and the honored; its object is to provide that no one gifted by Heaven with extraordinary powers shall be prevented, so far as this superior instruction can be introduced, from conferring upon his parents the proud and enviable sense of being honored in a son, and upon the State a useful and estimable citizen. Such an object is not foreign to New Hampshire; it becomes her ; it is of vital importance to her. The education of her citizens is her primary interest. Ours is the true soil of lofty intellects and sturdy virtues. Our native rock is not more fit than our native mind for lasting monuments of public enter- prise. If, from any petty jealousy or narrow econo- my, we neglect to carry to their utmost perfection our institutions of popular education, we mistake our most obvious duty to ourselves, and shall fail of the destiny most clearly marked out for us by Providence. Our dignity at home and our respectability abroad will depend on the MEN we raise; and the men we raise, on the institutions we maintain. S P E E C H IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, JULY 1, 1845, ON THE BILL PROVIDING FOR THE APPOINTMENT OF A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. MR. SPEAKER : — This bill has come down to us from a former legislature. In its leading features it is the same which was reported to the House in No- vember, 1844, by the very able committee on educa- tion. After full discussion, it was postponed to the present session. It has been maturely considered by a committee of this House, and unanimously reported in its present form. No measure proposed in this or the last legislature has more deeply interested me; upon none have the committees to whom it has been referred been more unanimous; upon none has there been expressed a more decided opinion among intelligent men out of the House. Several large and respectable bodies have seen fit to petition the General Court for its passage. If I mistake not, there is a strong and in- creasing desire among the people for the adoption of some such measure for the improvement of our com- mon schools. That something should be done to elevate them ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 517 appears to me very clear. They may be already superior to those of other States, of Massachusetts even, as gentlemen have said. That is not the ques- tion. Are they perfect? Are they all they can be made * That is the question. Can popular educa- tion be rendered more efficient and successful ? This is the point of inquiry. It is, in my judgment, Sir, the great inquiry in this State, and in all the States; it is the highest question of civil government. The intellectual and moral progress of society is really the true, the ultimate end of the state. The highest aim of social order is moral greatness. The instincts even of the brutes teach them to unite for protection from violence, for the preservation of their physical ex- istence. And social institutions which accomplish no more for man are scarcely higher in dignity. The first object of government, as of the individual, is to live; self-preservation is its first law. But that is not its end. We seek not to live for the sake of living, but for what there is to live for, – the good which life holds out to us. He that sacrifices the ends of life for the sake of living perverts the order of nature, and gives up all that makes life valuable, in his anxiety to live. And the state is hardly more wise which confines its policy and its enter- prise to its own preservation, forgetting, or neglecting, the ulterior end from which the state itself, as a means, derives its principal importance, the develop- ment of the faculties and the perfection of the charac- ter of man as man, – as an intellectual, a moral, and 518 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, a religious being, capable of indefinite progress, of boundless attainment, of an intense personal and spir- itual life, – a life in comparison with which the old heroism, the conflicts and victories of mere physical power, and even the plenitude of wealth, are trifles, the “childish things” which in the manhood of the world are put away. I have listened with pleasure, Mr. Speaker, to the able discussion of crows and foxes, of the militia law, and the taxing of wool, and the pay of absent mem- bers, and of the graver and remoter subjects of the Circuit Court and Rhode Island; but, Sir, I am glad to get, once in a while, where I feel a little more at home, and see a little more clearly the bearing of things on the great interests of the people of the State. And it really seems to me, Sir, that no sub- ject has claims so urgent and so immediate on the attention of the legislature, as the education of our people. Under a general government working for the most part easily and well, whatever party is in power, — in a State well organized and out of debt, at a time of general peace, and surrounded with all the comforts and resources which continued peace and a prosperous industry have multiplied, what is there for us to do, so useful, what so proper to the age, what so becoming the spirit of free and rational governments, what so necessary to fill up our idea of a happy, a perfect society of men, as the fuller devel- opment of our moral nature, the enlargement of mind, the elevation of sentiment, the refinement of taste, ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 519 the exaltation of virtuous and manly feeling, through- out the entire population of New Hampshire f We talk of the sin of idleness; and, undoubtedly, it is neither rare nor venial. But, Mr. Speaker, there is a sin of labor as well as of sloth. Does any man imagine that a human creature was made for no higher destiny than to work? Can delving in the dirt be the end of any class of men Why, Sir, labor, though necessary and honorable in all, connected, in our present state, with health and happiness, – labor, in its lowest form, as in its highest, is but a means, a means of nobler, better ends. Unremitted, unrelieved toil is, by Providence, the necessary lot of no man. A portion only of our waking hours is needed for the purposes of our animal life; intelligent industry soon provides for ordinary wants; a man should labor to live, not live to labor. It must be that something more is intended for us, even here, than to be hewers of wood and drawers of water, though it be all for ourselves. The mind that shoots forth here and there, from all ranks and conditions of life, is but a sign of what, from unpropitious causes, lies unawakened everywhere. Untold treasures of reason and moral power are yet to be opened in the great soul of humanity. And if our age may be said, in the French phrase, to have “a mission” as- signed to it, is it not plainly this, to bring out the character and disclose the capacities of the common mind P. Education, education in its broadest sense, the education of the many, is, next to the spiritual sal- 520 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, vation of the race, and ultimately even as a means of this salvation itself, the work, the appropriate, the primal work of our day. Our part of this delightful and truly glorious work is here, among the hills, along the rivers, of our native State. I covet no better place ; I know no better. I ask for no fitter material; for no other, and no In OT6. The measure proposed in this bill, Sir, is a begin- ning; it is something; and will prepare for further and better things. It provides, in the first place, for the information of the government upon the condition of the public schools. We are expending a hundred thousand dol- lars annually for popular education, assessing this amount by law ; and it certainly seems not unreason- able that the legislature should look after this money, and know what becomes of it, - whether it is employ- ed for useful purposes, or thrown away. The authori- ty to appropriate should have means of judging of the propriety of the appropriations; those who cause the money to be raised are bound to inquire into the reasons for raising it, and the ends to which it is applied. It is made the duty of the Commissioner to present a report annually to the General Court upon the state of the schools, embodying in this report the substance of the annual reports of the school-commit- tees to their respective towns. Thus there will be spread before the legislature, at its annual session, a statistical and full representation of the common ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 521 schools of the State, – the proper basis, and the only proper basis, of future legislative action. The bill provides, in the second place, for diffusing information upon the subject of education through the State. The reports of the Commissioner, carried home by the members, and otherwise published, will spread the facts collected and arranged by him, with his own suggestions thereon, before the whole com- munity. In addition to this, it is made his duty, once a year, at least, to visit each county in person, and, by lectures and other means, to excite attention and communicate instruction. Thus whatever improve- ment is anywhere made will become known every- where; the best schools will serve as models for the rest; and the experience of one part of the State will be made to benefit the whole. The importance of this provision will be the more apparent, if we consider how wide a field the subject of common schools opens to us, how many questions of importance arise, and how far the practice of any part of the State still is from being perfect in respect to them. The subject of schoolhouses, schoolbooks, the branches proper to be taught, the methods of teaching, the discipline, the qualification and training of teachers, the use of the religious principle, – these and other points are undergoing discussion among us, and elsewhere; the general intelligence of the age is directed to them, and more particularly in free states and in Protestant countries. It is seen, and is coming to be generally understood, that, unless a safeguard 66 522 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, may be looked for in the increase of popular intelli- gence and the maturity of the popular judgment, there is the utmost reason to fear a return of society from the agitations and excesses growing out of our theories of personal independence and private judg- a ment to the quietude of despotism in church and State. These objects of the bill are secured by creating a central and responsible department, through which the towns may communicate with the government and with each other. A commissioner of common schools is to be appointed by the governor and coun- cil, and paid from the State treasury. Such are the provisions of this bill, going, in the most direct and efficient way, to establish between the legislature and the school-districts, all over the State, a system of communication by which the former shall be able to learn the condition and wants of the schools, and the latter to avail themselves of the sug- gestions of superior wisdom and the lights of experi- €11CC. To this measure it is remarkable that the most strenuous objection has been made from portions of the State where the public schools are in the lowest condition. The counties that would seem to need the interference of government least are most anx- ious for it; the best schools feel most the impor- tance of improvement, and see most room for it. So it must be ; it is one of the necessary consequences of knowledge, that it shows us how much there is to be known. ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 523 The committee on education have, in this matter, to encounter friends as well as enemies. Gentlemen will probably vote against the bill for fear that some incompetent man may be appointed Commissioner, — that party or personal views may be suffered to deter- mine the choice of the executive. But, Sir, is it right to presume this? Is it just to the chief magistrate P Is it magnanimous On this principle, could we ever carry out a public measure? If those out of power will never trust those in power, how is government to be carried on Suppose, Sir, that an incompe- tent man should be appointed. Whose fault is that? Certainly not ours. Let us do our own duty, and leave others to do theirs. That is the true principle : that is manly; confidence sometimes begets virtue; a true citizen should expect every other man to do his duty. Let us, at least, demonstrate our own fidelity to the people; let us show our own deep sense of our high responsibility, whoever may prove recreant to the public interests, or regardless of the public welfare. But the people, the people have not expressed them- selves upon the subject! The people have expressed themselves, Sir. This instrument has been framed to meet the wishes of large conventions of our fellow- citizens, who have earnestly petitioned the House for some such provision. And what if they had not done so Are the legislature to wait until the people in their primary assemblies see fit to instruct us? My view of the duty of this House is altogether dif- ferent. In a general sense, undoubtedly, we repre- 524. SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, sent the people. But why represent them : Simply because they cannot conveniently assemble and act for themselves * Then our elections are a farce; we might as well choose senators and representatives, and the governor himself, as we do jurors, by drawing names from a hat; or rather the very idea of a choice is ridiculous. One is just as fit as another for a le- gislator; he who can read his instructions has all the qualifications which any man can possess for the high- est offices of government. Superior talent, large ex- perience, a sound judgment, are very superfluous qualities in a representative of the people. I hold to a representation of the people, but to such a representation as the people themselves have pro- vided for in the constitution of the government; a representation by men chosen, as that constitution prescribes, for their ability, their good sense, and pa- triotic feeling. Where are they to represent the peo- ple f Certainly not in town-meetings, but in this hall. In what are they to represent the people Not merely in the act of voting, but in deliberation, in counsel, in argument of great questions, and in care- ful, reasoned judgments upon those questions after free and full discussion. The best index of the public mind upon questions considered here is not what my constituents, or yours, Sir, were supposed to think upon those questions, as they were handled and adjudged in the towns we rep- resent ; but rather what, upon an ampler hearing and a more general consultation, we ourselves think, after ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 525 we come here. We are bound to suppose the people to be capable of ordinary intelligence, and open to conviction; and therefore obliged to conclude, that what, with all the lights of public discussion among the representatives of the whole State, we make up our mind to be true and wise would, under the same cir- cumstances, seem true and wise to them. Thus, Sir, in my humble judgment, we best represent the people, when, dispossessing ourselves, as far as human infirmity allows, of all party and personal prejudices, we yield our understandings to the manifest dictates of a sound reason and a true heart. This is the sort of repre- sentation I hold to ; the sort of representation that honors the intelligence and patriotism of the people : the representation that makes something more of the representative than a mere clerk, a registering ma- chine to record the various and conflicting out-of- door judgments of men, formed without deliberation, upon questions of general concern and great moment; a representation that gives significance to the caution with which the Constitution has provided for the most dispassionate and deliberate election of men to fill its offices of trust and power, at the same time that it impresses upon those men themselves an elevating sense of the responsibility of thinking and acting, in their high duties, for the community they repre- Sent. It is fashionable, I am aware, to speak of “fol- lowing the people,” “waiting for the people.” My maxim is, that we should lead the people, that our 526 SPEECH IN THE NEW HAMPSHIRE LEGISLATURE, proper place is in front of the host. If worthy of our honors, it is our privilege to take the lead on pub- lic questions; it is our duty to form, as well as to fol- low, public opinion. Enlightened public opinion is created by the insen- sible influences of mind upon mind; it is, in a great measure, the result of example, the example of men respected for their abilities or their official station. Which is most natural, most rational, for in- fluence to ascend from child to parent, or to de- scend from parent to child; to ascend from the less cultivated and less capable, or to descend from the more cultivated and more capable ; to ascend from the body of the people, out of which the repre- sentatives are elected, for their supposed superior attainments and character, or to descend from these representatives to their constituents It may sound ungracious in the ears of some persons, but it seems to me an unquestionable truth, too little thought of by either class, that the men of char- acter and moral power in the State are under great responsibilities to their country and to God to adopt for their public action some surer and high- er standard than the undefined, unreasoned senti- ments of the most intelligent and best-informed community on subjects which require the wisest counsels and the most profound reflection. If a man must earn a seat here by dodging deli- cate questions, and trimming to suit the uncertain opinions of his constituents, all I have to say is, he ON A COMMISSIONER OF COMMON SCHOOLS. 527 must be very unscrupulous or very uncomfortable. If he would command respect by deserving it, let him use the judgment which God has given him, let him make up his mind on public questions honestly, and express it manfully. He may lose a reëlection; but he will gain what is infinitely better, the respect of his own heart, and that of all true men. Next year he may not be found here ; but he will not therefore cease to be, or to be known and felt. A clear head and a firm and honest heart will be overlooked no- where. Power is secretly stealing from a great, good man, in or out of office, to elevate and new- create society. It speaks in his manly voice, and flows off from “the hem of his garment.” R U R A L OR N A M E N T . AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE ORNAMENTAL-TREE SO- CIETY, AT HANOVER, MAY 7, 1844. WE live in a beautiful world; and were evidently intended by the Creator to make it more beautiful still. Even in the primeval perfection of Eden, Adam was appointed “to dress it and to keep it.” And ever since the Fall, in which nature sympathized and suffered with the heart of man, it has been one of his most grateful, if not most successful labors, to re- store, in some degree, her faded honors. Nor, perhaps, in this respect, can we be said to be much in her debt. We have not, it is true, wholly rooted out the thorn and the brier from the face of the earth; much of the world is yet bleak and bar- ren under the primal curse ; we still earn our bread by the sweat of our brow. But how much, neverthe- less, how very much does the earth owe to man! His birth is an honor to her, greener and sweeter than the greenest and sweetest of her own fair crea- tions. For the most beautiful of sights is less beau- tiful than the eye which sees it ; the most wonder- ful music less wonderful than the voice from which RURAL, ORNAMENT. 529 it flows, or the ear which drinks it in. Life is every day weaving its own bright thoughts and delicate affections into the world's history, or recording its stern struggles and great triumphs on the world’s en- during substance. And death itself, - the period of our brief life, – how much of us it leaves behind which can never die! It is the principal glory of the earth, that it is the birthplace and the burial-place of man, – the scene of our experience, our enterprise, our sufferings, our joys, our hopes. Could we dissolve the intellectual and moral asso- ciations which human life has gradually entwined about the material forms around us, how very little would remain of the grandeur or the loveliness of the outward world! The beauty of physical nature is chiefly a reflection of ourselves. It is our own image that smiles upon us in the concave mirror of the heavens, and from the myriad phases of this little prism of the earth. He sees most to admire in the face of nature, who is himself most admirable. Her beautiful sights are for beautiful spirits. And it is a thought of deeper import than every body under- stands, that these treasures of the spirit, in things outward, are inalienable, and cannot be forfeited but by the loss of ourselves. Avarice cannot grasp them; power cannot wrench them from us. They cannot be appropriated by another. They are the natural in- heritance of cultivated and well ordered mind, con- firmed to it for ever by the charter of God. The low- liest of men, the poorest, without an acre of the 67 530 RURAL, ORNAMENT. earth's surface, with no title-deed to a single gem or grain of gold that sparkles in its bosom, may yet be rich in the imperishable wealth of a spirit to enjoy without appropriating, to consume without exhausting. Man creates, it is hardly too much to say, creates for himself the very outward wonders which he so enjoys. There is no color in the rose, or in the clouds. A surface of vegetable matter, or of floating mist, reflects certain rays of light, that fall upon them from the orb of day, into our eye; and we throw back the sensations communicated to us, and spread them over the clouds and the rose, and thenceforth look on them as if they had been always qualities of the outward things, not suspecting that these out- ward things, so clothed with beauty, were really in- vested with that very beauty by ourselves. There is no horizon; the line of grace which terminates the view on every side has no real existence. There is no azure canopy above us ; the heavens are not arched. No rainbow spans the sky; all is thin air and watery cloud instead ; the colors of the firma- ment are projected from ourselves. No music swells around us ; no odors load the air ; we create the harmonies we hear, and the fragrance we inhale. The eye sees its own sensations diffused over the visible world; the ear makes its own music ; odors are only particles of matter, floated upon Zephyrs to the delicate nerve which elaborates the perfumes of the spring. When we rise a step higher, and consider the as- RURAL, ORNAMENT. 531 sociations which give to the scenes of nature their chief power to interest us, how plain it is that these depend entirely on the mind The outward object does but suggest them ; they come all from the treas- ures of the spectator himself. The whole effect of the scene before him is to awaken the power within him. The thoughts, the fancies, the dear remem- brances, the cherished hopes, the loves, the joys, which his own bosom holds, roused by the summons from without, come trooping round, and unite and coalesce with the visible and tangible scene, in one harmoni- ous picture of beauty. Thus the mind, “its own place,” essentially creative, gives early indications of its native greatness, and discovers even in this im- perfect state its wondrous superiority, its capacity to fuse and mould all things, – its power to live upon itself, to weave out of its own thoughts the scenery of its life. To this capacity it is mainly owing that noble spirits always love their country and their homes. The places where they have lived are mirrors of themselves, and memorials of the kindred souls that have lived there before them. The truest and best men have the best country; the loveliest hearts have the sweetest homes. The external world, thus instinct with the spirit of humanity, is ever reacting upon us; mind is ele- wated and refined by the beauty it has itself contrib- uted to create. The influence of man and nature is thus reciprocal. What of genial power she receives 532 RURAL, ORNAMENT. from him she repays in humanizing and grateful in- fluences. The smile diffused over her face is not the less cheerful to him because it was awakened by his own presence ; her tongue none the less elo- quent because he has himself inspired it. It is hard- ly commonplace, — there is a returning freshness in it, an Indian-summer beauty, - the once familiar, quiet verse of Thomson: — “Still let my song a nobler note assume, And sing the infusive force of Spring on man; When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie To raise his being and serene his soul. Can he forbear to join the general smile Of Nature? Can fierce passions vex his breast, While every gale is peace, and every grove Is melody Hence from the bounteous walks Of flowing Spring, ye sordid sons of earth, Hard and unfeeling of another’s woe, Or only lavish to yourselves; away! But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, Of all his works, creative Bounty burns With warmest beam, and on your open front And liberal eye sits, from his dark retreat Inviting modest Want Nor, till invoked, Can restless goodness wait: your active search Leaves no cold, wintry corner unexplored; Like silent-working Heaven, surprising oft The lonely heart with unexpected good. For you the roving spirit of the wind Blows Spring abroad; for you the teeming clouds Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world; And the sun sheds his kindest rays for you, Ye flower of human race In these green days, Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head; Life flows afresh ; and young-eyed Health exalts The whole creation round. Contentment walks RURAL, ORNAMENT. 533 The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings To purchase. Pure serenity apace Induces thought, and contemplation still. By swift degrees the love of Nature works, And warms the bosom ; till at last sublimed To rapture and enthusiastic heat, We feel the present Deity, and taste The joy of God to see a happy world.” This sweet influence of the outward world, con- trasted so often with that of human life, but really in harmony with our best feelings, and, as we have al- ready said, derived, in a great degree, from the insen- sible but everywhere present spirit of humanity, is, of course, the foundation of that love of nature which cultivated men have all cherished, though it has been the privilege of the gifted alone to express it in works of art that vie with nature for our admiration. It is a universal influence ; felt, seen, as a living presence, in all lands; and binding men’s hearts to the least propitious climes. It makes the earth all beautiful; awakens patriotism, wherever man has had a home ; and inspires poetry, wherever there has been a soul to feel and a tongue to utter it. This influence it is our privilege to increase, upon principle and by systematic improvements. And the field thus opened to enterprise and taste, though not the earliest, is among the most inviting and the most wholesome of the scenes of sublunary industry. The best of men have loved it most, and have been made better and happier by their love of it. In a state of society somewhat advanced, a cultivated and 534 RURAL, ORNAMENT. beautiful country peoples the city with men of simple tastes and pure remembrances, with women whose ideas of home have something green and fragrant in them ; men and women who, when the objects of ambitious pursuit have been attained or relinquished, and life returns again to the quiet habits and domestic loves of youth, go back, like birds of passage, from the sultry South to the clear air of their mountain homes, to think over their first thoughts, to renew their old acquaintances, and to die where they were born. An ornamented country is a national school of taste and virtue. It is a curious reflection, that the first effort of man is to deface and deform his own beautiful world. He clears away the ancient forest with his axe, and burns up every green thing, — realizing the fable, that man begged of the forest a handle for his hatchet, and, when he had obtained the boon, used it in felling the whole. On the wild mountain-stream- let he sets up a saw-mill, and turns the free waters into a standing pool. He unpeoples the glens, the rivers, and the air itself of their harmless and happy tribes, and drives the relentless ploughshare over the carpet of flowers, which only angel-feet had trodden from the creation of the world. A bed of onions is dearer to him than a bank of roses; and ten hills of potatoes are of more value in his eyes than a cedar of Lebanon. “What shall I eat, and what shall I drink, and wherewithal shall I be clothed?” are his chief in- quiries. The great law of his being, as with the RURAL ORNAMENT. 535 lower animals, is the preservation of his life, and the continuance of his race. In time, however, sentiments, as well as appetites, appear in him; tastes are developed; and the beauty of the outward world finds a corresponding sensibil- ity within. A new life commences; new ideas are awakened in him. He begins to find “A pleasure in the pathless woods, A rapture on the lonely shore, Society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar.” The gambols of the squirrel and the loves of the birds engage him ; the flower has a language to his eye. He regrets now the monarch of the forest, which, in his pride of strength, he had levelled to the ground ; and endeavours to make some atonement for his violence to nature by patiently and fondly rear- ing a tree to cover him with its shade, and shrubbery to blossom in his sight. He becomes by degrees a gardener and an architect; lays out his grounds with more or less of taste, and ornaments his house, his place of worship, and his final rest. The means of rural ornament are too numerous to be minutely specified, except in an extended treatise. What can be done, on an occasion like this, is only to awaken attention by reference to some general prin- ciples, and to the sources of more particular informa- tion. Of sources of information we have already many, in our own and other modern languages, -particularly, it is said, the German. 536 RURAL, ORNAMENT. In our own, the literature of gardening is neither inconsiderable nor uninteresting. Besides works which discuss at large the principles of rural embel- lishment, —such as Whately’s Observations on Modern Gardening, Horace Walpole's History of Taste in Gardening, Price on the Picturesque, Gilpin's For- est Scenery, Picturesque Beauty, and other works, Loudon’s Works, and Downing's Landscape Garden- ing, — we have the subject less professionally treated in Sir William Temple's Essay on Gardening, Bacon's Essay on Gardening, Addison's papers on the same subject in the Spectator, Pope's Essay on Verdant Sculpture in the Guardian, and his Fourth Moral Epistle, Kames's Elements of Criticism, Mason's English Garden, Shenstone’s and Scott's Essays, and Aikin's and Gray's Letters; and, more incidentally still, in the numerous books of travels which compose so large a part of our miscellaneous literature. To certain writers on the philosophy of taste, as Burke on the Sublime and Beautiful, and Alison and Knight on the Principles of Taste, Montgomery's Lectures on Polite Literature, Mudie on the Observation of Nature, and Sir Joshua Reynolds's Discourses, we are indebted for not a little of the increased interest with which the beautiful in landscape is regarded and cul- tivated. But to no class of authors are we, in this respect, more indebted, than to the English poets. In descriptive poetry our language is rich beyond ex- ample. In Spenser, Milton, Cowper, and Words- worth, the beauty of the outward world, - terrene RURAL, ORNAMENT. 537 beauty, - the beauty of the familiar scenes of our daily life, – of copse and hill-side, of meadow and mountain, of trees, and rivulets, and flowers, and birds, and flocks, – of rural sights and rural sounds, —is so identified with himself, that a cultivated Eng- lishman can hardly separate himself from the scene about him, or feel at ease but in a cultivated home. And we rejoice that the same causes are fast devel- oping the same features in the domestic life of our own country. The primitive idea of a garden appears to have been that of a small, regular patch of land, in- closed from the rest of the farm, for the cultivation of esculent roots, fruits, and flowers. The garden of Alcinois, represented in the seventh book of the Odyssey of Homer as one of the “Glories which the gods ordained To bless Alcinois and his happy land,” was a space of four acres, “fenced with a green in- closure all around,” and filled with fruits and herbs. It was not until after the time of Bacon, who suggest- ed the principle of rural embellishment, so exquisitely illustrated in the beautiful picture of cultivated na- ture, in Milton’s “blissful Paradise,” — “Happy rural seat of various view,” — where “Crisped brooks Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon, Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain, 68 538 RURAL, ORNAMENT. Both where the morning sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierced shade Embrowned the noontide bowers ”; where lay, “To all delight of human sense exposed, In narrow room, Nature's whole wealth”; — it was not till the great harbinger of moral sci- ence had struck out also the true idea of artificial landscape, that British culture began to assume the freedom, variety, and richness which have clothed the island with a universal and perpetual beauty. From England this taste has spread over great part of Europe and the United States. Gardening is everywhere understood, now, to involve the theory of rural ornament, the principles of taste, in their appli- cation to rural beauty. - On the original scale of gardening, the scene might be created anywhere on earth or in mid-heaven. A few acres of meadow or hill-side had only to be in- closed, laid out in rectangles, planted with shrubs and trees and kitchen vegetables, variegated with figures of nymphs and dogs ordained in stone “to live be- yond the power of years,” and irrigated with jels d'eau. The hanging-gardens of Babylon were sup- ported in the air, upon pillars, and, for power of art and display of expense, left nothing to be attempted by succeeding ages. The idea which runs through the system of mod- ern gardening is infinitely more natural, and, at the same time, susceptible of development upon any scale of beauty, from the simple flower-garden of the RURAL, ORNAMENT. 539 mountain cottager, to the magnificence of Eden, which “Stretched her line From Auran eastward to the royal towers Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings; Or where the sons of Eden, long before, Dwelt in Telassar.” According to this system, nature is to furnish the groundwork; art to aim mainly at improvements which serve to set off the natural scene to greater ad- vantage, or which, if independent creations of genius, are at least in accordance with the original features of the place. The first point is, therefore, to ascertain the capabilities of the place. For this a practised eye, as well as good taste, is often required. It is one thing to discern and enjoy the beauties of a per- fect landscape, and another, and far rarer, to be able to foresee these beauties before the skill of the artist has brought them out. To choose our situation on principles of taste is given, however, to few. To those few we may leave to elect for themselves where upon earth to expend the wealth which has descended to them from their ancestors, or has crowned their own enterprise. For most of us nothing is left but to employ our more limited means upon a smaller scale, and on the spot which patient industry, through weary years, has earned, or where we happened to be born and choose to abide, among the relics and remembrances of our early friends. I shall, therefore, consult the objects of this asso- 540 RURAL, ORNAMENT. - ciation by leaving these generalities, and coming directly to some hints which I propose to offer for the improvement of our own farms and our own village. On a farm, and in this ever-varying scenery about us, there is always room for choice; the site of the house, its character, the out-buildings, the garden in the proper sense, the orchard, the wood-lot, may all be made to conspire to an agreeable effect, without ma- terial expense or inconvenience. In this climate, to be accessible at all seasons, a house must not be far from the public road. In milder latitudes, the beauti- ful may be more absolutely consulted, and the taste left to elect between a distant eminence, that, with- out being exposed and bleak, brings at once into view the whole variety of lawn, and wood, and water, and mountain outline which the place commands, and some sheltered, sunny nook, embosomed among the hills, from which you look out upon particular scenes that never weary, and from which easy and natural excursions lead you in succession to all the more at- tractive prospects of the neighbourhood. But, if we cannot enjoy all the freedom of choice allowed in certain situations, we have still room for the exercise of taste. And the man, who, in build- ing a house for himself, never seems to think of the prospects without, has, probably, a “help-meet” who never seems to think of the prospects within. He is the man that builds on the old site, to save digging a new cellar, - or on a pinnacle of sand, to be sure of having a dry one. He who flanks his own RURAL, ORNAMENT. 541 dwelling with a cider-mill on one side, and a farm- yard on the other, with a goose-pen or a pig-trough in front, is guilty, at least, of offending against the sense of—the beautiful. Were not the spectacle pre- sented to us so often, one would hardly think it pos- sible, that, in a land of schools, and of every variety of natural beauty, human homes should be erected to shelter and nurse the loves of the human heart, with so little regard to improvement or enjoyment from the wondrous world without. A verdant lawn, a wooded hill-side, a rivulet, seen at intervals, as it winds round a projecting angle or rushes over its rocky way, soothing the ear of drowsy night with its AEolian swell and cadence of sweet sounds, is a beauty that educates the sensibilities and tranquillizes life. The house itself should be adapted to the scene. A section of a brick block, transferred from the city to the country, is ill at ease, and in bad keeping with every thing about it. Rural scenery requires rural architecture. A palace for the town ; but a cottage for the country; simple in style, as befits a farm, but in proportion, in color, in elegance, harmonizing with nature around. Artists are for the duller colors; for myself, I still prefer the pure white, which con- trasts so well with the green of spring and the brown of autumn. A trifling expense would procure a draught from a practised artist, suited to the place and the means of the builder. Nor should he for- get that a blunder here is a blunder for life. 542 RURAL, ORNAMENT. Shrubbery and shade-trees are indispensable, on the score of comfort as well as ornament. A house un- inclosed, without a piazza, without a tree or a flower about it, battered by the storms of winter, and swel- tering in the summer heats, – what delicate associa- tions ever cluster there P. There is not a place for morning to hang a dew-drop; nor a leaf for the breath of evening to disport withal; nor bird nor bee to wake a melody of the heart. - Effect may be produced even by the divisions of a farm. Cut into squares, by stone walls, like a check- er-board, it is an unsightly object. Whether stumps look best in a fence, or in their native soil, is an open question. That live hedges are not oftener made among us is the more strange, as the apple and the Canada plum, to say nothing of the thorn and the beech, afford material both beautiful and durable. The VILLAGEs of the Northern States are, in a great degree, peculiar to us, -in comparison, at least, with the southern portion of the Union. Towns are common everywhere ; but a village, in our sense of the term, - a little collection of independent houses, with a church and a schoolhouse, a few shops and a mill, -is so frequent nowhere as among ourselves. The capabilities of ornament in a village are obvious, though little regarded. The first obstacle to be surmounted is the determination of every body to get as near as possible to the centre. A population that ought, for health and beauty, to have been spread over the ample grounds which lie RURAL, ORNAMENT. 543 around, is crowded into a few, close, narrow, straight streets, built up, frequently, of brick and mortar, of nearly the same style, and so immediately upon the public highway, that one would think men were to be shipped from them, like bales of cotton or hogsheads of molasses from a wharf. The true idea of a village, on the contrary, is that, not of contiguous dwellings on rectangular streets, in the manner of a city, but of independent, widely separated houses, with ample grounds, in various styles and dissimilar situations, having an air of entire free- dom, presenting an ever-varying aspect, adapted to the form of the surface, and to the taste of the pro- prietor. Nothing could be better fitted for the dis- play of every species of ornament within a narrow compass than the position of many of our New England villages, seated for the most part on the banks of streams, in the verdant basins which time has scooped out, with infinite variety of figure and scenery, among the mountains. And we should hard- ly know our own country, if, instead of crowding round the inn and the market, people had chosen, as they successively built for themselves a house and home, to go a little back upon a neighbouring emi- nence or behind a projecting angle, or near the foot of a wild spur of the mountain, or a romantic bend of the stream, - each fixing upon a site suited to his taste and his means. It is not generally considered how little we are educated by institutions and instruction, and how 544 RURAL, ORNAMENT. much by circumstances. The influence of teachers and seminaries of learning is temporary and occasion- al, confined to particular departments, and never, even during the hours of instruction, entirely engross- ing the attention. The scenes of nature and life around us act upon us always, and insinuate their influence into every part of our character. They are before us, when we first open our eyes to the light; infancy and youth are passed in their presence; the industry of manhood is all associated with them; and the heart of age clings to them, when the transitory objects of its early loves have all dis- appeared. Day and night, and the seasons in their ceaseless revolutions, with their attendant ministers of fear or hope, of weal or woe, to man, – the storm and the flood, the rain and the sunshine, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, — who shall estimate their various influences, in the different climates of the earth, upon the character and happiness of its human inhabitants? The peculiar features of our native place, - the sunny vale, or bleak alpine heights, – the collection of inappropriate, half-fin- ished, naked houses, called “the street,”— with a church, once painted white, still red behind, with shattered windows and a leaning steeple, -an un- inclosed graveyard, – an ill-made schoolhouse, plant- ed in the sand, - a grog-shop, — and a dingy, dirty, sloppy tavern, under the sign of the Red Indian or the Punch-bowl, -without a garden, without a shade- tree, without one pleasing sight, and with no music RURAL, ORNAMENT. 5.45 but of a fife and a drum, and no odor but of gin and tobacco; or, on the other hand, a neat, vine-clad assemblage of smiling homes, mansion and cottage, alternately interrupting the wide expanse of living verdure, reposing in the dewy brightness of morning or the fragrant light of the declining day, and all clustering, in manifest sympathy, around the de- cent church and church-yard, the scene of frequent praise and of final rest to the tenants of the ham- let, — O, who can fail to see how different the effect of these different scenes upon the character and destiny of men P. How different the life we lead in the midst of them how different the recollec- tions we carry with us as we leave them how different the feelings with which we return to them 1 Of all our means of rural ornament, trees are, in some respects, the most remarkable. Though inferior to animals in perfection of structure and spirited action, they are the noblest of the natural products of the earth. In the number of their species they are, at least, equal to the animal tribes; in the varieties of the same species far superior. The gen- eral outline and framework of animals of the same species are uniform ; the differences are in the minut- er and less essential parts, as color, size, and the form of particular limbs and features. With trees it is just the reverse; the resemblances are in the minuter parts; the differences in the larger and more impor- tant. The leaves, and seeds, and color of trees of - 69 546 RURAL, ORNAMENT. one species differ scarcely at all; the form of the trunk, the relation of the branches, the general air and contour, are infinitely diversified. The tree is easily removed ; may be set single or grouped; has an agreeable motion; breaks the vio- lence of the winds, and shelters from the noonday heat; may be made to hide from the view unsightly objects; answers the purpose of expensive archi- tecture, by clothing the simplest building with a living grace; and, what is enough of itself to recommend its culture, attracts from the forest, where they are preyed upon by natural enemies, numbers of our most beautiful and musical birds, who delight in the secu- rity, and I have thought in the society, afforded them by the neighbourhood of man. A tree is, in itself, eminently beautiful. There is something wonderful in its history. Beginning in a little germ, under the surface of the earth, it push- es up a delicate shoot, expands a fresh, green leaf to the vital air, and year after year follows the seasons round, casting down its honors to battle with the winter winds, and renewing them again to engage in the rivalry of beauty through the glorious summer. The tree has an organization like that of an ani- mal; vessels conveying to its remotest extremities the fluids from which its nutriment is elaborated, by a process similar to that which draws the food of ani- mals from the blood. It has an evident irritability, amounting almost to the sensibility of the lower order of animals; turns to the light; sleeps and breathes; RURAL ORNAMENT. 54.7 and exhales, from its flowers and leaves, and thou- sand pores, the varied odors of the vegetable year. In its branches multitudes of innocent creatures gayly spend their little day of sunny bliss ; un- der its shadow the ox and the lamb ruminate and rest. Fifty generations of men come and look upon it, and go away. Still it stands, towering upward, and stretching far and wide its sinewy arms, the old- est living thing upon the earth. I do not wonder that the Druid venerated the tree, or that the Turk still cherishes it upon the shores and islands of his beautiful seas. Among the features of village scenery most promi- ment and most susceptible of a pleasing effect are the church and the church-yard. The church should be retired, but not apart from the dwellings which compose the village ; it should be clearly of it, and yet not overshadowed or crowded by it. In architecture it should be faultless, a model of simple beauty, as most consonant with the style of all the divine works; and sheltered from the glare of day by surrounding trees, which give to the Sanctuary a dim, religious light, more grateful to the eye than that produced by stained glass or half-closed windows. Presenting nothing to admire, it should suggest nothing to regret. The disuse of the steeple, so general among us, appears to me in bad taste; a mere belfry erected upon the roof is vulgar. It is pleasant to see a disposition to return to the tapering, heavenward-pointing spire. 548 RURAL, ORNAMENT. The church-yard (I wish it were not so often a misnomer), laid out and ornamented with a chas- tened taste, becomes, in time, a place of hallowed interest, — secluded, but not lonely, in which the dead seem still to hold converse with the living, and the links that bind us to the unseen are strengthened and brightened, - sad, sweet place, where the cheerful light above, and beautiful shrubs and flowers, and songs of birds, serve to mitigate somewhat our natural horror of the dark, damp house below, and where it is grateful to know that friends will love to come and muse, and tears of fond remembrance will mingle with the evening dew- drops upon our grave. To the schoolhouse, and especially the higher semi- maries of learning, a rural aspect seems almost neces- sary. Confinement, a stifled air, all sense of close- mess, or baldness, comports but ill with the freedom, the freshness, the luxuriance, the beautiful develop- ment of youthful, healthful intellect. There is a natural sympathy of learning, and of religion also, with rural beauty. “Groves were planted to console at noon The pensive wanderer in their shades. At eve, The moonbeam, gliding softly in between Their sleeping leaves, is all the light he wants For meditation.” They were among the sacred places of the ancients. The old philosophers loved to retire to them. The Gothic arch is thought to be an imitation of a natu- RURAL, ORNAMENT. 549 ral grove. “It rises from a lofty stem,” says Gilpin, “ or from two or three stems, if they be slender ; which, being bound together, and spreading in every direction, cover the whole roof with their ramifica- tions.” It seems eminently proper that institutions of learn- ing and art should be intimately associated with the sources of our best knowledge, and the models of all beauty, in the works of nature. A familiar poet has expressed the thought so well, that you will suffer me to quote him. “Meditation here May think down hours to moments. Here the heart May give a useful lesson to the head, And learning wiser grow without its books. Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have ofttimes no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge, a rude, unprofitable mass, The mere materials from which wisdom builds, Till smoothed, and squared, and fitted to its place, Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that it has learned so much ; Wisdom is humble that it knows no more. Books are not seldom talismans and spells, By which the magic art of shrewder wits Holds an unthinking multitude enthralled. Some to the fascination of a name Surrender judgment, hoodwinked. Some the style Infatuates; and, through labyrinths and wilds - Of error, leads them by a tune entranced. While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear The insupportable fatigue of thought; And swallowing, therefore, without pause or choice, The total grist unsifted, husks and all. 550 RURAL, ORNAMENT. But trees, and rivulets, and haunts of deer, And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs, And groves, in which the primrose, ere her time, Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn-root, T]eceive no student. Wisdom there, and truth, Not shy, as in the world, and to be won By slow solicitation, seize at once The roving thought, and fix it on themselves.” In the open country, or the village, an indispensable element of rural beauty is the GARDEN. No farmer, or mechanic, should deny himself this luxury. Under the hand of care, almost without expense, it becomes at once a public ornament and a private resource, — repaying a hundred-fold, in its sweet influence upon the taste and the temper of a household, all the pains it has cost. I have been ready to think, sometimes, that a delicate, sweet spirit does not inhabit a bare, barren, flowerless, leafless spot. I never read of any divinities, male or female, that lived in the sand. They repose on mossy banks, or lie in living springs, or hide in green bowers. Certain I am, that, if the professional man, the farmer, or the mechanic, would give to his garden the hours of bright day which he often wastes in the oblivion of untimely and unwholesome sleep, or over an irritating party newspaper, or among frequenters of the bar-room and the barber’s shop, he would be doing something to restore again our long lost Eden, and, at the same time, bear with a better grace the bur- den of the primal curse. A city may seem, at first view, little interested in rural culture. And yet a city admits of ornamental RURAL, ORNAMENT. 551 trees and shrubs. The vine flourishes, with its roots under a stone pavement, and delights to hang its pur- ple honors upon brick walls. Parks and fountains give even to the populous town, in some degree, the freedom, freshness, and fragrance of the country. The parks of London have been called its lungs. A man may lose himself in them. Many of our cities are inland, and possess advantages for combining in one picture the most varied natural scenery, - land and water, meadow and woodland, hill and glen, nature and life. It is natural, also, for more or less of us, from econ- omy or taste, to retire a little from the hum of busi- ness to the environs of the town, where wealth and leisure may combine to beautify the neighbourhood of the crowded mart with rural arts and rural orna- mentS. If any country in the world has claims upon its inhabitants for this kind of culture, it is our own, - this cold extremity of the Union. The balmy airs, the profuse native vegetation, the gorgeous floral tribes of the tropics, are not our inheritance. What of the beauty and luxuriance of Southern climes is ever made to clothe the sterility of our hills, and soften to our eye the hard features of the North, must be wrought here by the hand of patient art. But nature has laid out the grounds for us upon the grandest Scale, and has scattered all about us the solid mate- rial of as perfect local scenery as the sun ever smiled upon. The Merrimack, rising in the snowy heights 552 RURAL, ORNAMENT. of the White Hills, winding with ever-varying curve, and lined, for almost its whole length, with the most delicate shrubbery that ever dipped its nodding head in quiet waters; the Connecticut, flowing from its source in the Canadas to the Sound, through an unbroken chain of verdant lakes, and commanding at every turn the view of some distant hill-side or mountain, green, or gray, or golden with vegetable beauty to its very top ; the Hudson, with its bold angles, its threatening heights, its solemn ravines, and its broad swells of cultivated land, alternating in end- less succession; the Winnipiseogee and Champlain, studded with islets, and running up their innumera- ble arms among the wooded eminences that bound them on every side, – was ever such a groundwork laid by nature for the union of beauty and grandeur, of magnificence and loveliness? Not too far north to be denied the luxuries of a long summer, nor far enough south to lose the strong features of winter, we are called upon to carry out here the design of the Creator in making the spot of our birth too dear for any good man willingly to leave it, too beautiful for any bad man to profane it. It is matter of interesting reflection to us, that, in this, as indeed in every thing, the good which is done is done by a few. A few project, a few carry out, the principal improvements of the world. The thoughtful students of the public weal, -O, how rare they are The men of foresight enough, and ener- gy enough, to do something, to begin to do some- RURAL, ORNAMENT. 553 thing, to begin now, - how seldom we meet with them To the lovers of nature, of cultivated nature, the admirers of the beautiful, may I not say, - Im- prove, adorn, your home, your native village, your city, your country P Act as if you were to live there for ever, for somebody will live there for ever. Perfect your simple architecture; plant trees; train vines; multiply flowers. Nothing is too great to be at- tempted, nothing too little to be regarded. Act upon system ; when you make a change, make it right. Years come round faster than you think; and years alone are necessary to create permanent beauty, and to multiply the sources of rational enjoyment and of valuable public improvement. The spirit of progress is contagious. One man never improves his grounds or his house, without being followed by others. Village imitates village; city rivals city. The aggre- gate of individual improvements is to constitute the beauty, the loveliness, of our native land. Our own village admits of much improvement, and calls on us, by many considerations, to make it — as the seat of the only college of the State — a model of taste, as well as a source of knowledge. Though not the most striking upon the Connecti- cut, the scenery immediately around us is diversi- fied and agreeable. The river itself is hidden ; but the valley through which it runs, and the highlands sloping upward from its western bank, are distinct and beautiful; and the view to the west, including Ascutney, on the whole approaches to magnificence. 70 554 RURAL, ORNAMENT. The long line of mountain scenery in that direction, so finely varying its course in endless curves, and exhibiting the principal varieties of our native forest- trees, broken in upon by frequent patches of cultiva- tion ; the bold termination of the eastern view, by the abrupt and ragged hills called the “Velvet Rocks”; the expanse of meadow between these hills and the village; the round and partly wooded eminence at the northeast, and the rich level of cultivated ground to the northwest, skirted by the dense growth of pop- lar, birch, and evergreen which mark the eastern bank of the river, are, all together, seldom equal- led. The village itself, though already too much crowd- ed, especially at the southern extremity, by the Yan- kee propensity to save steps and work up every inch of land, has been pretty well laid out; the common, in itself a remarkable ornament of the place, secures the rest, in a good degree, from being shut up and cramped. The public buildings are well placed ; unless the vestry be an exception, which, under the very eaves of the church, can be justified only on the principle of filial dependence; — “As on a sunny bank, a tender lamb Lurks in safe shelter from the winds of March, Screened by its parent.” We have room to extend ourselves in all directions. Indeed, the choice situations for private dwellings are yet unoccupied. And the man will deserve well of the village, who sets the example of going out to one RURAL ORNAMENT. 555 of the charming sites in our immediate vicinity, and erecting an appropriate, tasteful, but not expensive cottage, as a model of rural architecture, and of rural beauty and comfort, to his neighbours. We owe it to the dead, as well as to the living, to extend and improve the cemetery. There the fathers of the village sleep. The Wheelocks are there. There is Smith, and Brown, and Adams, and Pea- body. There repose youthful genius and virgin beauty. Hallowed dust is watched by angels there. It is our own place of rest. I would see it cared for, and made cheerful. The sun should shed his sweetest light upon it; and the sacred earth should greet him with her loveliest verdure. The high grounds north of the college should be purchased, and planted with additional trees, and an observatory erected there. No opportunity could be finer for realizing our idea of academic retirement, — the union of truth and beauty. THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. FROM THE BIBLIOTHECA SACRA AND THEOLOGICAL REVIEW, FOR FEBRUARY, 1845. Nothing is more promising in theory than Educa- tion, and nothing less certain in practice. No sci- ence has been more deeply studied, and in none have fewer important principles been permanently settled. Every age regrets the system under which it was itself trained, and brings up a new gener- ation to sigh, with similar regrets, for the errors of its predecessors. If we listen to the uniform complaints of the thoughtful, of all times, we shall be inclined to adopt the opinion of Dr. Johnson, that “education was as well understood by the ancients as it ever can be,” and to add, that it was not understood at all by them. Considered as an object of enterprise, it is beau- tiful, sublime even, “worth ambition.” It is to un- fold the power of thought, — thought, which propa- gates itself for ever. It is to discipline the will, the central principle of character, of all finite power, great or good. It is to nurse and mature the social and moral sensibilities of a spiritual and immor- THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 557 tal being. Can any thing be so interesting to think of, so noble to attempt? Upon the material sub- stance of the earth it seems to be our destiny to leave very little impression. A fire, or a wave of sand, passes over them, and our proudest works disappear. Time wears them all away. We search in vain for memorials of men beyond a few genera- tions before us. The coral insect builds up a struc- ture, whose base is the unchanging bed of the sea, and on whose summit men congregate, and con- tend, and triumph, and pass away, and leave no trace of themselves behind. Why is it, but to intimate to us that the true impress of our power is to be made upon mind rather than matter P The little worm, embalmed and coffined in the imperisha- ble rock, has all of immortality which the earth knows. For the earth’s noblest creature, its lord, must there not be a loftier destiny, a more enduring memorial? May not man enshrine himself in a no- bler mausoleum ? Can he not engrave his name upon a work of costlier material, and more last- ing f In this view, it is not strange that education has attracted so much attention ; that philosophy ear- nestly investigates the theory of it; that ingenuity patiently devises new methods; and that private char- ity and public munificence so foster the institutions which experience has approved, or enterprise pro- posed, for the instruction and discipline of the human mind. For what besides has so much been done * 558 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. In what other respect, among civilized nations, are men so cared for and provided for The powers of the state, and the nearer and more direct influences of domestic life, have no higher or more engrossing object. The great anxiety of mature life is to secure the benefits of education to the young. The intel- ligent parent deems it the richest legacy to his child- ren. The poor prize it as the means of advance- ment to their families; the rich as the secret of a power which wealth alone cannot confer. All unite in declamation on its advantages, and in zeal for its improvement. Accordingly, the apparatus with which science and experience have furnished us for the work has be- come complicated and prodigious. And it is worthy of remark, that, whilst the agency thus brought into exercise is almost everywhere gigantic and apparent- ly irresistible, the subject upon which it is designed to act is in the highest degree susceptible of impres- sion, — “Tremblingly alive all o'er To each fine impulse.” - The circumstances could hardly be more advan- tageous. Mature intellect is acting upon the docility of infancy; strength engages with flexibility; skill and art are working on simplicity and enthusiasm. It is no wonder that high hopes are indulged, that prophecy grows eloquent upon the future triumphs of this mighty power. No wonder that to the fond parent and the sanguine philanthropist come teeming THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 559 visions, brighter and sweeter than the light which foreshows the day. It is natural ; perhaps it is well. Who could relinquish the hope which never dies in a parent's bosom P What loving heart would live to despair of humanity ? Who does not expect almost all he wishes for his children and mankind P. Were it otherwise, charity, and faith, and enterprise would hardly be found on the earth. No good thing is ever done, but to realize a great hope. To these hopes, springing fresh in every heart, repeated in their original brightness, and cherished with undiminished fondness in every successive gen- eration, the sacred writings add their divine sanc- tion. Religion encourages the assurance, that, if we “train up a child in the way he should go, when he is old he will not depart from it.” And yet how little, after all, do our best systems accomplish To how great a degree do men grow up, notwithstanding, by an apparently spontaneous development! How seldom are they made what they become, by any or all of our methods! How much of the best mind in society owes comparatively little to our discipline ! how much of the worst is bad in spite of it! In this view, the declamation of the schools and the wisdom of sages upon the power of education will sometimes appear to a considerate man equally empty and vain. Fifteen or twenty years of pa- rental life are very apt to cool a little the ardor of our expectations, and moderate somewhat the confi- º 560 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. dence of our tone upon this topic. The man who begins with lofty ideas of the omnipotence of educa- *tion is in danger of living to run into the opposite extreme, and to wonder at the sanguine anticipations of his earlier days, if not to question the utility of systems and methods altogether. The truth seems to be, that systematic education is but an element in our mental culture. Other influ- ences unite with it, and modify it more than we are aware. No system of instruction can be made to monopolize the pupil’s attention; no vigilance can guard all the avenues of thought; no agency of ours can entirely control the mental habits of the most docile and confiding. Our own voice is but one of the hundred that are constantly addressing him. The most engaging train of thought we can inspire in him is not a tithe of those which incessantly fol- low one another through his mind, every waking hour of his life. Impressions are everywhere forced upon him ; the ear is always open ; the eye drinks in ideas from all around and above him. Every office of friendship, — every reflection of influence, of which he is the source or the object, — every consciousness of the presence of external objects, animate or inani- mate, – every hope awakened or blasted, – every change, without or within him, that serves to mark the progress of his existence, is so much done to form his character, so much to give shape and color to his in- tellectual and moral being. In this sense of the word, a sense much more comprehensive than that in THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 561 which we have hitherto used it in these pages, edu- cation is always and everywhere going on. We are educated by all we think and by all we do, by what we see and what we hear. Day and night instruct us; morning and evening, the rising and the setting sun, the moon and the stars, the sunshine and the storm, are all eloquent teachers. Secret influences are incessantly stealing into the heart from every scene of nature, and from every incident of life. It is a great mistake to suppose that precepts and re- straints are the principal instruments of education. Your circumstances, your wealth, your poverty, your business, your recreations, your history, your pros- pects, are all efficient instructers of your children. What you do not say, as well as what you say, what you omit to do, no less than what you do, where you are and what you are, in public or in private, have as much to do in forming the character of your son, as the institutions you select for him, and the tuition you provide. It must not be overlooked, in estimating the influ- ence of instruction, that the subject of this influence is a free agent, an independent being; and not simply passive, to be moulded, like wax, by the plastic hand of the artist, or carved, like marble. From the beginning, the mind has all the attributes of moral freedom. It may be weak; but it will not be compelled; it cannot be dragged nor driven. The tiny spirit in the nurse's arms spurns the foot of power with the indignant self-importance of the 71 562 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. Hampdens. Force only awakens freedom. The very ideas we inculcate are no longer the same the moment they find their way into another mind. They become immediately subject to a new pow- er, are colored, modified, dissolved, and recombined. Ideas are not quantities, fixed and conveyed, at will, from one to another. They are merely materials of thought, hints, starting-points for a most free, most original, most independent artist. Every new thought is a new premise for the reason, a new stand-point for the imagination. Locks of cotton, or hanks of silk, are put into the hand of industry; but who can foresee what they shall come back, of what tex- ture or hue, whether a coat of mail to shield the sail- or-boy from the storm, or a curtain of gossamer to float before the face of beauty P And who shall divine into what possible forms the materials of thought, which education supplies, may be wrought by the free spirit P Who shall set limits to the new combinations of ideas, and consequently new forms of character, which, by the very act of instruction, we are teaching our pupils to create for themselves f Indeed, just in proportion as we succeed in develop- ing the mind, we render it independent of our own control. At every successive stage of education, we hold a more disputed empire. Every step we ad- vance, so much is done to rouse the power of thought, and nourish the spirit of self-reliance. Despotism must always be based upon ignorance. There is no more mortifying lesson than is taught us every THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 563 day by our impotent attempts to tame and lead about the little heart of infant man. Power is baf. fled by an insignificant being whose puny frame we feel that we might crush in our hand. The soul, composed as if it animated a giant's form, looks out and laughs, or curls the lip, at the assumption of authority. Who has not felt at once his weakness and his strength, his littleness and his nobility, as he has seen our nature thus erecting itself upon the foundation of its native greatness, and saying, in very childhood, “My Master is in heaven”? Again; our ignorance alone is enough to render all systems uncertain. It is regarded as one of the most embarrassing circumstances in medical practice, that the vital functions are carried on in profound darkness. Irregular action and its causes are only intimated by obscure signs in the external man. The mental phenomena in sickness and health, all thought and feeling, are equally concealed, with the additional security from detection, that they con- trol, to a great degree, even the outward symptoms of their own existence and character. The moral pulse is a very imperfect diagnostic. In vain the most penetrating eye searches the bosom, even of a friend. That friend himself but half knows what is going on there. When he tells us with apparent frankness all the secrets of his heart, how we still long to look into his soul! That sanctuary no eye may profane. The prerogative of moral privacy can- not be taken away. God only knows the heart; — 564, THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. sweet thought to an honest man, that there is one who knows it! — and therefore God only “turneth the heart as the rivers of water are turned.” It is worthy of remark, also, that we have no direct power over mind, the most docile and yielding, even our own. We cannot say to this feeling, “Come,” and to that feeling, “Go.” We cannot command a thought. Our influence, when easiest and strongest, is all indirect. To produce thought in ourselves, it is not enough to say, “I will think.” The laws of thought must be observed ; the occasions of thought must be presented; the objects of thought must awak- en the attention. In no other way can we enjoy the privilege even of forming our own character, and determining our own destiny. Instruction and disci- pline, therefore, have no exclusive right; they cannot monopolize the work of education. They perform a part; important it may be, but yet a part only; and that on precisely the same principles according to which all other influences are exerted upon mind. The consequence is, that, with all its freedom, mind is, in spite of itself, subject to incessant education. It cannot stand still. It is never the same to-day that it was yesterday. It never repeats the experience of an hour. Society and solitude, action and repose, man and nature, all things, instruct us, all are work- ing changes in us. - The result of these views of education is, obvious- ly, not at all to lessen our interest in its improvement as a science, or to let down our idea of its dignity as THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 565 an art. It is, undoubtedly, however, to moderate, in some degree, the sanguine expectations of those who look altogether to schools and systems of instruction for realizing our hopes of the progress of mankind. We may not effect all we aim at ; we may not, at present, approximate to our ideal of a perfect educa- tion. But let us not petulantly abandon modes of culture to which long and large experience has given its sanction, because they do not accomplish impossi- bilities, nor undervalue our institutions of learning, because they are imperfect. We have a certain de- gree of direct influence in the development of intel- lectual and moral character, — influence most valuable and important, beginning with the dawn of reason, and continuing to the end of life ; essentially and for ever affecting the usefulness and happiness of all that are dear to us, throughout the whole period of their being. This influence we cannot too much cherish. The schools and colleges, the domestic training, and the public religious instruction, by which it is exerted, are above all price. Private charity, and the treas- ures of the State, are not ill employed in extending and perpetuating it. Family government is not well administered, legislation is short-sighted and illiberal, where education is not the prominent object of pa- rental solicitude and deliberative wisdom. But we had in view, in the commencement of these remarks, a class of influences less direct, collat- eral, by which, even where our systems of instruction are most perfect, all the character they develope is 566 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. materially modified. Some of these we proceed to specify. And the first which occurs to us is the at- mosphere of the place, — the genius loci. Tacitus says of Agricola, “Arcebat eum ab illecebris peccan- tium, praeter ipsius bonam integramgue naturam, quod statim parvulus sedem ac magistram studiorum JMassi- liam habuerit, locum Graeca comitate et provinciali parsimonia mixtum ac bene compositum.” The re- mark discriminates, with a felicity worthy of the su- perlative beauty of that monument of filial piety of which it is a fragment, a kind of agency in our early training too seldom appreciated or regarded. It may not be of consequence under what star a man is born. The other planets may have little to do with his destiny. But it is of -moment to him, where, upon earth, he is cradled and brought up. The mere physical features of the place are not in- different; there are correspondences of the out- ward with the inward world; there are aspects of nature fit to nurse and call out the greatness and loveliness of which the seeds and germs are in all hearts; external beauty, variety, and grandeur appear mirrored, with increased softness and richness, in the calm depths of the spirit which reposes among them. The same system of instruction and the same in- structers have by no means the same effect on mind in the town and in the country, amid the monotony of a Western prairie and among the hills and water- falls of New England. There is, however, a local influence of another THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 567 sort, and still more worthy of regard. An intellectual, spiritual atmosphere invests the favored spots where great minds have commanded respect, and noble natures have aspired to deserve it. A seat of learn- ing cannot become venerable without age. Time gradually gathers about its halls and groves an air of moral greatness, which no expenditure of money can anticipate. Its ample libraries and extensive cabi- nets, the multiform apparatus of science, models of art, and memorials of genius, the slow accumula- tions of ages, all conspire to give impulse and tone to every mind admitted to its sacred retreats, or suf- fered to repose under its classic shades. A species of grateful enchantment pervades the place; higher dig- nity is imparted to science; and new charms invite to liberal studies. It is a hasty conclusion, that, because a man must be always, in a great degree, self-taught, he may therefore learn equally well anywhere, at a univer- sity or in a farm-house. There is, indeed, no place where mind may not flourish; genius appropriates nutriment to itself from the most sterile soil; it can live upon its own blood. But in propitious scenes, surrounded by congenial objects, saluted by loving and hallowed voices, and stimulated by great examples, it conceives more lofty purposes, and advances with a bolder step. In the presence of greatness it is it- self greater. In the atmosphere of thought it is easier to think. To be in such society is to improve. There is a necessary greenness and crudeness in 568 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. new institutions. The scholarship formed in them is like society in new settlements, coarse, rude, noisy, vulgar. The eminent propriety of thought, the deli- cate sentiment, the grace of mind, the artist-like re- lief and beauty of expression, which distinguish the already ripening scholar from his coevals, are almost never the growth of young places. Another style of mind is the product of private education. It may be conducted among the loveliest scenes of nature, and by the most skilful tutors. Nothing useful may seem to be wanting. But a sort of man is formed wholly unlike the products of the schools. He grows up too much in the shade. He is wanting, generally, in two essential points of char- acter, — a true self-reliance, and respect for others. He is, accordingly, timid or rash in action, and distrustful or credulous in opinion. We learn to know ourselves and others by the same means, by measuring ourselves with them. Confidence in the duties of life is the result of experience, of trial of ourselves;, and respect for mind is produced by acquaintance with mind. Arrogance, presumption, and vanity are the fruits of ignorance, — ignorance which books and tutors never entirely remove; the only certain remedy for it is found in the earnest pursuit of great objects in competition with kindred minds. We learn, in this contest, both our weakness and our strength. Another of the accidental influences which modify the effect of systematic education is example. THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 569 We have in mind not the general power of exam- ple, in which each is affected by all, and all by each, and a common public sentiment generated, a social character formed; though no man liveth to himself, and thought and feeling everywhere tend to diffusion, to an equilibrium. The influence we allude to is rather that which characterizes here and there an in- dividual, in every community, gifted somewhat above his fellows, and capable of fusing and remoulding the minds about him. They are ruling spirits in their day and generation ; and, whether elevated to attract the admiration of a whole people, or confined to a village popularity, seem evidently “born to command,” and exercise, it may be unconsciously, a formative energy. They lead by general consent, by an acknowledged native right. Their power is in their temperament, in their will, in their earnestness, mainly. They are impersonations of moral energy. If this character be combined with a proportioned and beautiful intellectual and moral development, we then see humanity in its utmost perfection. The specta- cle of such a man silently elevates and rectifies his age, his town, or his village. In a class of students, academical or professional, it raises the standard of ambition, sheds lustre on the pursuits of learning, and insensibly diffuses a liberal and generous love of let- ters through the whole circle. No teacher can have failed to see how sensibly the example of one true scholar is felt, and how magnanimously it is admired, among his equals and competitors. 72 570 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. - In active life the same delightful power is illustrat- ed. A noble heart never beats alone. A renovating spirit never breathes in vain. With living excellence we have inextinguishable sympathies. It consecrates the place of its abode, and leaves memorials of itself sculptured on the imperishable material of which souls are made. A good man, with a great and res- olute heart, cannot live unfelt, nor die to be forgotten. And an earnest bad man is the most flagrant scourge of Heaven. The intellect perverted by him, the hearts he sours or sears, the hopes he blasts, the happiness he poisons, who thinks of it all without wondering, with David, at “the prosperity of the Wicked ”? For good or for evil, we are affected more than we are aware by the models of personal energy with which, in the course of life, it is the lot of us all, more or less, to come in contact. Not one escapes altogether the contagion of example, more potent than all precepts, more plastic than our arts of education. A master mind, oracular even when not original, in which ordinary thoughts kindle and burn, and by which familiar subjects are electrified, is re- sponsible to society, and to God, for a fearful power. The only other influence of the same kind, which it occurred to us to notice, is the all-important one of government. On this we do not intend to dwell. It is too ample for our space, and too important to be hastily despatched. Government educates the people, by supplying the most important trains of THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 57.1 thought which occupy the waking hours or fill up the dreams of the majority of mankind. Office, wealth, personal consideration, are all dispensed or secured by the civil constitution and administration under which we live. Other institutions and agen- cies are controlled by the public policy. If enter- prise and ambition are attracted to virtuous and no- ble objects, if pure purposes and just principles are recommended and engendered by the civil power, if government be, indeed, “for the punishment of evil-doers, and for the praise of them that do well,” it is, in itself, the highest and most efficient national education. If, on the other hand, wrong principles are encouraged and bad passions appealed to, if the objects of ordinary ambition are held out as rewards to the most sagacious, the most wily, the most unscru- pulous, it matters little what morals are taught in the books, or what discipline is enforced in the schools; a corrupt government is a fountain of poi- SOI.1. The practical inferences from the foregoing ob- servations are : — 1. That our true policy is, not to multiply institu- tions of learning, but to enlarge the foundations and increase the advantages of those we have, – to neg- lect nothing in or about them which may serve to add dignity to science, or to refine and elevate the taste and the moral feelings. The seat of a college should be, if possible, a rural city; and the more of the monuments of learning and art and living excel- 572 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. lence we can accumulate in it, the better. Money is not wasted upon its architecture or its grounds. Not a new niche is filled with a work of genius, nor a new alcove with books, but to a useful and impor- tant end. Not a man raised in its bosom, to adorn its annals, should be parted with for love or money. Not a fragrant recollection in its history should be allowed to wither and dry up, nor a purifying and ennobling association with its name or its halls be suffered to grow dim. Whatever of the true, or beau- tiful, or great, or good, in mind or the products of mind, in nature or art, industry or wealth can procure, is part of its means of education. Baldness, sterility, deformity, physical or moral, have no gen- ial, wholesome influence upon the sensitive heart of youth. 2. It should be an object, never lost sight of, to secure in seminaries of learning, and indeed every- where, examples of the most perfect mental develop- ment. Systems which tend to equalize the benefits of education by reducing the standard of practical attainment, —lessening, in this way, the difference between the highest and the lowest, —have the effect, ultimately, to depress all; for they remove one of the best incitements to excellence, the actual exem- plification of it in a living instance before us and of us. If a man of prečminent character and at- tainment should do nothing else but exist in the eyes of his associates and neighbours, he would live for a most enviable usefulness. And a system which THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 573 raises up one such man, in a class of students or a community, really improves and elevates the whole. 3. Good men may not excuse themselves from an active and efficient agency in the government of their country. It is just leaving one of the principal instruments of power over themselves and their pos- terity in wicked hands. It is essentially counteracting their own endeavours to improve society. It is permit- ting unprincipled men to educate, in fact, to a great degree, their children. What avails it for us, un- der the plea of avoiding all meddling with secular, and especially civil matters, to labor in the schools and in the church, regardless of a tremendous pow- er incessantly at work in high places, and carrying its pestiferous influence everywhere, to corrupt and mislead society P How futile to rely on means, and yet not use those which a beneficent Providence has put into our hands, for determining, to some ex- tent, at least, the character of the government under which we live, and the public policy of the people of which we are a part | If government is a matter of indifference, it may be left to boys. If it is nothing but a scramble for petty titles and a little brief authority, those who love the dust and the noise of popular excitement and public parade should be allowed to have the conflicts and the victories all to themselves. But if most of the great objects which men seek in life, if most of the enterprise and in- dustry which fill up that life, if the spirit of the country, its morality, its integrity, its justice, its piety, 574 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. its whole education, theoretical and practical, are in- timately and must be for ever connected with the exercise of civil power, no good man, no thoughtful Christian, can shrink from his responsibilities as a citizen, can relinquish his birthright as a freeman. THE END. + library UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN ||||||III Transportation A.C. Haddock, Charles B. 8 • Hlj Addre and 3. lane it iſ º |× |-|№ . - |×. ----ſae -ſae №.|-| _.- -. №.- -№， №.. №ae，