UNITED STATES  OF AMERICA
FOUNDED 1836
WASHINGTON,  D. C.
GPO  16—67244-1 
 
 
COLLINS' MISCELLANIES. 
 
s*>
MISCELLANIES.
STEPHEN   COLLINS,  M.l)
  I haue played my selfe the inquisitor, and find nothing to my vnder-
standing in these Essayes contrary, or infectious to the state of Religion
or manners; but rather (as I suppose) medicinable.
                                         Lord Bacon.
       PHILADELPHIA:

CAREY  AND   HART

            1842. 
   w
C~!l3rn
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1842, by

                  STEPHEN COLLINS,

    in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Maryland.
JAMES YOUNG, PRINTER. 
                      TO







\Y  I L L  I A M   H .    COLLINS,






          WITH WHOM HE  HAS PASSED







                SO MANY YEARS





   OF UNDIMINISHED FRATERNAL AFFECTION,






      AND BY WHOM HIS JOYS AND SORROWS






          HAVE ALWAYS BEEN SHARED,






              THIS  VOLUME OF







         MISCELLANIES






                IS DEDICATED BY
THE AUTHOR.
 
 
I
PREFACE.
   It has been the desire of the author, in writing this
volume, that every line may contribute to advance the
cause of virtue, literature, or humanity.  He can say,
in the words of Bacon, that, to his understanding, he
finds nolhing in  it contrary, or infectious to the state
of religion, or manners;  but rather,  as  he supposes,
medicinable.   If such be its  character, he believes it
will be re;id  with that  lenity  of criticism with  which
(lie public  is disposed to receive the first production of
;m author.

     Baltimore, October 1st, 1S42. 
 
CONTENTS.
Charles Dickens,
Charles Lamd,
Henry Martyn—J. S. Neweold,
American Literature,
Lord Bacon,  ...
Woman as a Missionary
Cheveley,
The Dying Hour, ...
Philip Syng Physick,
The Deaf Elder, ...
John Summerfield,
 William Cowper, ...
King James' Bible,
England in 1S41, ...
David Brainerd,
 May the Fourteenth, 1841
July the Foorth, 1S42
The Sea Shore,
James Barbour,
Insanity,
^Speech on  Insanity,
Remarks, &c.
 Remarks, &c.
 Speech, &c.
 Speech, &c.
Speech, &c.
John Wilkes,
 William Lenhaet, 
                     ERRATUM.
On page 72, line 2 from top of page,/or "Cannae" read Capua. 
COLLINS'  MISCELLANIES.
                CHARLES DICKENS.

  The recent visit of Mr. Dickens to this country has
attached additional interest to his character as an author,
and a man.   The annunciation that we might expect
to see the writer who had contributed so much to our
instruction and amusement;  who derived his beautiful
creations from  those conditions of society which are
degenerate, degraded, and forlorn; who held up to the
contempt of the  world  meanness, falsehood, cruelty,
and  oppression, wherever found to exist; who spread
before us, on  his pages,  the lesson taught in the great
Book of Nature,  that "Nothing is high, because it is
in a high place; and  nothing is low, because it is in a
low one," was received with universal delight.  Every
age and condition looked with anxiety for the approach
of the promised guest; and, on his arrival, gave him a
reception which would have been an appropriate wel-
come to a friend and  benefactor, long  known and
highly loved—a reception in accordance with the re-
publican sentiments  of the people of  this country,
which  induced them to offer to  genius  the  homage
       2 
10             CHARLES DICKENS.
which was denied to rank.   We need not go far to find
the reason for this enthusiasm.   It is the influence
which mind exercises over mind.  One hundred thou-
sand Romans  arose when Virgil entered the theatre,
and thus paid to  the genius of the  Mantuan bard the
same homage  which they offered  to  Caesar himself.
Petrarch received the laurel crown of Poetry  in the
presence of all the nobles and high-born ladies of Rome.
Two hundred  and fifty years later, the  same honour
was decreed to Tasso:  but death interposed between
the author of Gerusalemme Liberata, and the distinc-
tion which Was to "receive from him as much honour
as, in past times, it had  conferred on others."   It is a
beautiful sentiment of Schiller,  that, Genius, kindling
with right affections,  can hold the  millions  in its em-
brace, and throw a kiss to the whole world.
  Although Mr. Dickens has obtained more reputation
than any  other author  of the day,  his history  is not
abundant with incidents.   His parentage is respectable,
his father  having been,  for many years, reporter to the
London Morning  Chronicle.  At an early age he was
placed in the office of an eminent barrister; and after-
wards accepted an appointment as reporter for the same
paper  which  employed his  father.   It  cannot  be
doubted that this occupation, in a city  like London,
was  the means of developing his  remarkable  powers
for the observation and  description of life.   The exist-
ence of genius is  often  unknown to its possessor until
developed by peculiar circumstances; as the waters of
Meribah were  concealed in the  rock before they were
made to flow by the rod of Moses.   He is not the only 
CHARLES DICKENS.
11
i'iistinguished Englishman of the present day who has
occupied this position.   Mr. Serjeant Talfourd was,
in early life, a reporter for the Times; and has become
eminent as a dramatic poet, an advocate, and a parlia-
mentary speaker.   In 1834, Mr. Dickens first appeared
as an author, by  contributions to  the  Old Monthly
Magazine, and assumed the sobriquet—Boz; a name
by which  he has  long been as well  known as by his
patronymic.  These papers  were well received, with-
out obtaining for  him high reputation as a writer.   In
ISoG, during the recess of Parliament, when the Morn-
ing Chronicle was not pressed with articles for publica-
tion,  he inserted  sketches,  by Boz;  and  the public
attention was at once .arrested by his merits as an author.
These sketches, with his former  contributions to the
Monthly, were re-published in the  same year, in three
volumes, with illustrations by Cruikshank.  He then
■■commenced the publication  of the Pickwick Papers,
with a very limited circulation—the third  number not
exceeding four thousand.  When the series was com-
pleted,  the  circulation  amounted  to  thirty thousand
copies.  Oliver Twist and Nicholas Nickleby followed
in rapid succession; and when they were  completed,
Dickens—who  had been a writer only five years—at
(he age  of twenty-seven, was,  with  the  exception of
Byron and  Scott,  the  most popular author  of  the
century.   In consequence of the reputation he had ob-
tained by  these creations of his genius,  Master Hum-
phrey's  Clock had a circulation much more numerous
than any of his previous works.
  When I  say that Dickens is, with two exception^ 
 12             CHARLES DICKENS
 the most popular author, I do not design to assert that
 he is the best writer, of the century.  His merits as a
 writer place his works among the standard productions
 of genius; but will not allow us to assign them,  apart
 from his subjects, as a reason for  his  extraordinary
 fame.  This arises as much from the character of his
 subjects, as from the composition,  A writer who de-
 lights to  describe the fashionable life of the  nobility of
 Europe, or the pomp and magnificence of feudal times
 —subjects which have no connection with the common
 sympathies of the multitude—must not expect to rival
 ui popularity the  author who presents to  the public
 mind the "simple annals of the poor."
   Mr.  Dickens' style of writing is  dramatic; and he
was induced, by suggestions from the reviewers, to at-
tempt dramatic composition.   He produced an Opera
at the St. James' Theatre, entitled, The Village Co-
quettes; the music of which  was the production of an
 eminent  composer: and, subsequently,  an  interlude,
Is She His Wife? was written, and brought  forward at
the same Theatre.   The success of these efforts was
not such as to induce him to continue to write for the
stage.  Some of his  writings, as  Oliver Twist and
Nicholas Nickleby, were dramatized before  their  pub-
lication was completed by the author of these beautiful
creations of genius.  This probably caused him to in-
troduce,  a second time, in  Nicholas  Nickleby, the
family  of Vincent Crummies, the country manager;
when,  in the supper scene, he gives  utterance  to  a
caustic, and most indignant philippic against those who
 dramatize the  unfinished works of  an author.   The 
               tJHARLES DICKENS.             13
most popular writers of fiction do not  usually succeed
in dramatic  composition.  After the  publication  of
Evelina, Miss Burney was urged by  many friends—
among them Sheridan and Sir Joshua Reynolds—to
write a comedy.  Dr. Johnson declined to join in the
solicitation; and the result proved the soundness of his
judgment.   The  comedy was written, and suppressed
by the advice of those judges in whose opinions she
placed  most  confidence.   But the  failure   in  the
drama did not proceed from  any  diminution of the
talents of the authoress.   She afterwards wrote Cecilia,
which was esteemed a more finished  work  than  Eve-
lina.   It has been said that different talents are requi-
site for the two species of writing, though they are by
no means incompatible.   And the writer from whom
I borrow this  sentiment, explains  the difference by
saying that, in fiction, the author ha.s  as large a range
as he pleases to pick,-cull, and -select whatever he  likes:
lie takes his own time,  and may be as minute  as he
pleases, provided that taste, with a deep and penetrating
knowledge of  human nature and the world, accom-
panies that minuteness.  The writer can develope,
md lay open to the view the very soul, and all its most
secret  recesses.  But these  advantages and  resources
are curtailed in comedy.   There, everything passes  in
dialogue—all goes on rapidly: narrative  and descrip-
tive  writing, if not short,  become  intolerable in the
drama.  The  moment  the scene ceases to  move on
briskly, and business seems to hang, the audience lose
all  patience.   But  Goldsmith proved that the talents
2* 
f4
CHARLES  DICKENS
requisite for the two kinds of writing are not  incom-
patible; he excelled as a novelist, and in comedy.
   In 1831, Mr. Dickens married Miss Hogarth, a pupil
of the Royal Academy of Music; whose father  was
also a reporter for the Morning Chronicle.   She is the
grand-daughter of Mr. George Thomson of Edinburgh.,
the friend and correspondent of Burns who published,
many years since, a beautiful work entitled, A select
collection of Original Scottish Airs for the  Aoice; with
accompaniments by Pleyel, the most  distinguished
composer of that day.  Pleyel also  composed an in-
strumental prelude and conclusion to each  Air, by
which  they were adapted  to public and private con-
certs.   At the  solicitation  of Mr.  Thomson,  Burns
wrote for this work many of those exquisite songs—as
Highland Mary,  Brace's Address, Wandering Willie—
which exercised  great influence over his countrymen,
and have conferred immortality on his name.  A sister
of Mr. Dickens is married to Burnet, the singer of the
Si. James' Theatre.  His other sister  died about  two
years since; an event which  produced such distressing
effects  on his mind that he was compelled to suspend,
for some time, his literary pursuits.  This circumstance
was  probably the cause of  the report which prevailed
at that time, that he was deranged, and the inmate of
a Lunatic Asylum.   He has shown his filial gratitude
by purchasing an estate for his father,  from which lie
derives an independent support.  He has four children;
and  if we may form  an  estimate from  the  crayon
sketch which exhibits the group, with flowing locks
and  sunny faces, no man ever enjoyed,  in a  higher 
CHARLES DICKENS.
15
degree,  the  blessing of the Psalmist, Thy  children
shall be like olive plants round about thy table.
  Such are the origin and domestic associations of a
man whose genius has introduced him to all the literati
of the day, and made him the most popular of living
authors.   May he long live to be  the  pride and sup-
port of this domestic circle, and to  delight and instruct
the world with the beautiful creations  of  a genius
which has made him  a distinguished ornament of the
age.
  Mr. Dickens receives  liberal  pecuniary  compensa-
tion, as well as fame,  in return for his professional la-
bours.  The admirers of an author so distinguished for
genius, for purity of private and public character, and
for  the exemplary discharge of  all the duties of the
social relations, will desire that  his emoluments may
equal those of the late Wizard  of the North.   Such
lias not  always been the reward  of genius.   The
manuscript of Robinson  Crusoe was long  refused by
die booksellers; and the purchaser made a profit of one
thousand guineas.   Goldsmith sold the A'icar of Wake-
field  for a  few pounds.   Dr. Johnson  received two
hundred guineas  for the Lives of the Poets, and the
bookseller made twenty-five thousand pounds sterling
by the purchase.   Paradise Lost brought Milton five
pounds;  and, with the profits, Tonson and his family
rode  in carriages  which rivalled  those  of the nobility.
Fielding  offered  the manuscript  of  Tom  Jones for
twenty-five  pounds,  and the purchase was  declined.
It was afterwards bought by Millar for a larger sum;
and,  before  his death, he made  eighteen  thousand 
10
CHAHLES DICKENS.
 pounds by the sale.  Englishmen are not now allowed
 to starve in obscure alleys and garrets, while they are
 producing works which will ever remain the proudest
 monuments of their country's glory.
   The genius of Scott presented Historical Romance
 in its most  attractive  form.   Every .country has  inci-
 dents and associations which an able writer could de-
 scribe  with  effect;  but the  author  who  attempts this
 species of composition must be placed in contrast with
 him who, with graphic power, presented to the world
 the men, the deeds, the antiquities,  and the scenery of
 his country.  A century may pass before a writer will
 appear to take the crown of Historical Romance from
 the head of the author of Waverly.   Dickens entered
 on a field where the scythe of  the reaper had not com-
 menced the harvest; unless we consider him a disciple
 of Fielding, who, in the History of  a  Foundling, pro-
 duced  the first  English  wodc of  fiction which  was
 painted from nature, and is therefore called  the father
 of the English  Novel.  He  finds  his heroes in the
 lanes and alleys of a great city; the  massive buildings
 which confine the victims of crime and misfortune, are
 invested with an interest surpassing  that which before
 had belonged to fabled castles; our sympathies are en^
 listed in  the fate of misery and guilt  clothed in rags,
and bowed down by wretchedness.  He describes the
sufferings and  patient virtues of  those who appear in
the humble walks of  life, and eloquently appeals to
the finest  sympathies of our nature, which, under all
circumstances, connect man with man.
  The characters of Dickens  speak in the  language 
CHARLES DICKENS.
17
which is appropriate to their respective classes: yet—
like the writings of Lamb, without a coarse thought or
word—there is not, in any page of his works, a passage
which the most discreet mother would hesitate to place
in the hands of a young daughter.   In this respect he
differs from Bulwer, whose powerful and  imaginative
mind  fascinates  his  readers, and almost makes them
insensible to the immoralities  of many of his works.
He does not describe an Alice,  brought up in ignorance
and isolation, possessing every charm of  feature  and
person; yet  lost to  that sense of the  preservation of
character which, without education, woman is taught
by the instincts of  her  nature:  thus  admitting  that
woman may be so artless, and innocent as to cease to
be virtuous.   Nor does  he describe an Ernest Mal-
travers, with every accomplishment of mind and person,
as noble in his character,  yet insinuating himself into
the sanctuary of confiding woman's affections, and, ser-
pent-like, robbing her of  that jewel without which she
is "poor indeed:" thus teaching that men  may be re-
garded  as noble, and worthy of admiration, although
they  deprive  female  youth and  innocence  of  that
purity of character,  on the  preservation of which the
foundations  of society rest.  He does not paint a man
lis the most noble  and generous of his race,  and yet
the seducer of the wife of his friend; nor give attractive
graces to the murderer; nor describe an Eugene Aram
as gifted with lofty genius,  and  noble  in  thought,
feeling, and action, while his hands were stained with
the blood of his fellow-man.  It is not said that Bul-
wer is the avowed apologist of  such actions: but  the 
 18             CHARLES DICKENS.
 effect is, in a measure, the same when he  drawrs the
 portraits of his heroes  in such  colours as to  enlist the
 sympathy and admiration  of the reader, and ascribes
 the  criminal actions  to a "strong delusion," or  an
 "overpowering necessity."  When the play, The  Rob-
 bers, was first brought out on the German  stage, the
 effect, if the statement can be depended  on, was  most
 disastrous on the young nobility, who aimed at imita-
 tion of the hero; and the piece was suppressed by the
 government.   Schiller, when he wrote  the  play, did
 not  design  to  entice  young men  to the  forests  of
 Bohemia: but Bulwer cannot be allowed to plead ig-
 norance of  effect, as an apology for his  immoral pro-
 ductions.
   Although  the class of subjects chosen by Dickens
 might be supposed to expose  him to the danger of vul-
 garity, there is nothing offensive to the  severest  deli-
 cacy in his delineations; and it is said that, in England,
his writings  are most popular amongst the women of
the higher circles.  I have somewhere seen it stated,
that a celebrated London  beauty jocularly  proposed a
party, to which none were to be admissible who did
not  consider Sam Weller .essentially  a gentleman.
The author  of Nicholas  Nickleby  draws  admirable
portraits, and his characters are  well  sustained under
all circumstances.   He excels in pathetic description,
and  in painting the beauties of nature.  I  select the
following description from the story, The Five Sisters
of York, in  the sixth  chapter of this work: "They
 were tall stately figures with dark flashing  eyes and
hair of jet; dignity and grace  were in their every move- 
CHARLES DICKENS.
19
ment, and the fame of their great beauty had spread
through all the country round.   But if the four elder
sisters were lovely, how beautiful was the  youngest, a
fair creature of sixteen!  The blushing tints in the soft
bloom  on the fruit, or  the delicate painting on the
flower, are not more exquisite than was the rose and lily
in her gentle face, or the deep blue of her eye.  The
vine, in all its elegant luxuriance, is not more graceful,
than were the clusters of rich brown hair  that sported
around her brow.
   "If we all had hearts like those which beat so lightly
in the bosoms of the  young and  beautiful, what a
heaven this earth would be! If, while our bodies grew
old and withered, our hearts could but retain their early
youth  and freshness, of what avail would be our sor-
rows and sufferings!  But  the  faint image  of Eden
which is stamped upon them in childhood, chafes and
rubs in our rough struggles with the world,  and soon
wears away:  too often to leave nothing but a mournful
blank remaining.
   "The heart of this fair girl bounded with joy  and
gladness.   Devoted  attachment to  her sisters,  and a
fervent love of all beautiful things  in nature, were its
pure affections.  Her gleesome voice and merry laugh
were the sweetest music  of their home.   She was its
very light and life.   The brightest flowers in the garden
were  reared by  her; the caged birds sang when they
heard her voice,  and pined when they missed its sweet-
ness.   Alice, dear Alice;  what living thing within the
sphere of her gentle witchery, could fail  to love her!"
   This is a tale  of deep pathos and surpassing beauty: 
20              CHARLES DICKENS.
a tale in which nature is clothed in her loveliest charms;
and woman pencilled with colours which make her to
rival the lily of the valley; the social and domestic af-
fections portrayed in a  manner that almost disposes us
to believe  that heaven may be found  on earth;  but
which closes with  the stern realities  that belong to the
lot of man.
  Nicholas Nickleby is perhaps the chef-d'oeuvre  of
Mr.  Dickens;  and  if he  had  written nothing more,
would secure the transmission of his  name to posterity.
The characters are  admirably drawn, and well sus-
tained  to the end.   Squeers is  a  mean and cruel
pedagogue; and a  coward, because  cruel and mean.
Henceforward if you call a man a Squeers,  you give
him  a character.   Smike  is an admirable illustration
of helplessness suffering under oppression; and mani-
festing,  in  all his lowliness, traits of character which,
in their  developement, exalt  human nature.  Lord
Frederick and Sir Mulberry  uniformly act as if they
believed the world was made for their special gratifica-
tion.  Tim Linkinwater,  Brother Charles says, was
born a hundred and fifty years  old, and was gradually
coming down to five and twenty.  This one sentence
contains  a description of a fine character: that of a
man advanced in life, whose  love of all young and
beautiful objects  increased with every passing year.
This cultivation of  a child-like spirit is but a  prepara-
tion  for  heaven:  "Whosoever shall not receive  the
kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter
therein."   Ralph Nickleby is  a consummate  villain,
willing to sacrifice his lovely niece to titled profligacy, 
                CHARLES  DICKENS.              21
for the gratification of that meanest and most debasing
of all passions—the love of money for its own sake,
and not for the comforts it enables us to enjoy, and the
blessings we may scatter around us.   The interview
between him  and Arthur Gride is  admirable; Ralph
seated  on a high office-stool—bold,  calculating, cold,
cunning: Gride crouched on a low seat—timid, mean,
sensual, devilish.   Nicholas  and Kate are almost per-
fect characters; and  all their words and  actions are
prompted by a noble  nature—the only true nobility.
Nicholas is intelligent,  chivalrous,  honourable, com-
passionate—the very  man  to produce  in  woman the
feeling  which Othello excited in Desdemona, "She
lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd."  What shall 1
say of Kate?  No Italian master ever painted  a more
beautiful portrait on canvass than Dickens has deline-
ated in this lovely character.  Like Rosamund Gray,
she is  "gentle as a smiling infant—affectionate as a
weaned lamb."   But this  soft and delicate creature,
whose  elastic  step wrould scarcely crush the lowliest
floweret of the field, when ensnared by her uncle, and
surrounded at  his house by those whose presence was
contamination to  angelic purity like hers, acted with
energy and decision far more deserving  of  commenda-
tion than the conduct  of the Roman Lucretia.
   Who could describe the glorious old twins—Brothers
Charles and Ned?  They are descended from Sir Roger
de Coverly, who flourished more than a century before
the time of the Brothers  Cheeryble.  The reader will
be pleased,  for the honour of human nature, to learn
from the author that they are not the creations of  his
       3 
22             CHARLES DICKENS.
own fancy; but that they lived, and by their munifi-
cent and generous deeds became the  pride of their
town.  One of the originals of the Brothers Cheeryble
—William Grant,  of Manchester—died during the visit
of Mr. Dickens to the United States.  Mr. Munro, of
Manchester, delivered an eloquent eulogy on  his char
acter, as that of a "merchant-prince" whose heart was a
fountain of generous compassion, always gushing forth
in the cause   of  humanity: whose affection for  his
parents while living, and  deep  reverence  for their
memory when dead, was crowned  by unostentatious
piety, and a grateful recognition of Divine Providence
in the  prosperity  which attended  him through a long
life of  successful commercial pursuits, and of benefac-
tion to the poor.  The hearts of the Brothers—to use
a very expressive phrase—are in the right place; full of
all kind and tender emotions; manifesting unbounded
benevolence and beneficence towards suffering virtue,
and equally unbounded abhorrence of vice.   What
son, whose beloved parent has gone home to heaven,
does not feel  that some sympathetic chord in his own
bosom is touched, when the Brothers Cheeryble drink,
"To the memory  of our Mother!"
  We might have supposed that the author had a suffi-
cient number of prominent  characters  on his hands to
give ample employment to  his powers  of delineation:
but, after having completed more  than half the work,
he  boldly introduces another, and  sustains  it with a
success which proves it is safe to follow the inspiration
of genius.  Madeline Bray displays the virtue of the
Roman daughter who daily visited her father in prison, 
                CHARLES DICKENS.             23
that the pure fountain of  her own bosom  might pour
out for him its life-preserving stream.   With what deli-
cacy Brother Charles  contributes to the relief of this
daughter  of his early  love! He purchases,  at a high
price, the work of her delicate fingers; and thus enables
her to support a worthless father, who, having broken
tlie heart of one loving, gentle, and confiding woman—
that greatest blessing which heaven in its kindness can
bestow'  upon man—did not deserve  that this almost
angel, before she departed  from earth, should leave him
a daughter to  comfort and sustain him in his lonely,
helpless wretchedness.  As the  reward of virtue how
beautifully does Dickens exclaim, "There is one  broad
sky over all the wrorld; and whether it be blue or cloudy,
the same heaven is beyond it."   The manner in wmich
Madeline  is to be supported was evidently  suggested
by the beautiful scene between Boaz and Ruth, where
we observe the refined delicacy  of the order  privately
given by Boaz to his young men, to let fall in her way
handfuls of the harvest,  that she might gather them,
and thus have her gleanings increased without the ap-
pearance of receiving charity.   Sterne, the founder  of
sentimental writing, often imitated the delightful sim-
plicity of the story of Joseph and his brethren.
  If Nicholas Nickleby be the best work of  Dickens,
the little Nell of the Old Curiosity Shop is  his best
character.   She is one of  the finest and sweetest crea-
tions of modern times.  He raises this lovely floweret
from its lowly bed and scatters the perfume on the air,
as the  rose, sparkling with dew, exhales its sweetness
beneath the young morning's sun. Mr. Dickens stated, 
24              CHARLES DICKENS
at a dinner given to him at Edinburgh, and m reply
to an allusion to Nell by Professor Wilson, that as the
work approached a close, and the fate he intended for
her broke on the minds of his readers, he received
numerous letters remonstrating  against his  purpose.
He was inflexible; and afterwards they were foremost
in approving his determination.   It is proper that the
tender flower—before it is prematurely blighted  by the
winds and snows of winter—should be transplanted to
:i more genial clime,  where it may flourish in immortal
freshness.  When little angels are lent to the world, it
is but for a short period: they are soon recalled to the
more peaceful  society of heaven.   They  said Nell
would be an angel before the birds  sang again.  The
Spring arrived—that beautiful  and happy  time—and
the birds renewed their songs;  but, "She  was dead.
No sleep so beautiful and calm, so  free from trace of
pain, so fair to look upon.  She  seemed  a creature
fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath
of life; not one that had lived and suffered death.
  ••She was dead.   Dear, gentle, patient,  noble Nell
was dead.   Her little  bird—a poor slight  thing  the
pressure of a finger would have crushed—was  stirring
nimbly  in its cage;  and the strong  heart of its child-
mistress was mute and motionless forever.
  "Where were the traces of her early cares, her suffer-
ings, and fatigues? All gone.   His  was the  true death
before  their weeping eyes.  Sorrow was dead  indeed
in  her, but peace and  perfect happiness were bom;
imaged in  her  tranquil beauty and profound  repose.
   "Oh! It is hard to take to heart the lesson that such 
CHARLES DICKENS.
25
deaths will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one
that all must learn, and is a mighty  universal Truth.
When Death strikes down the innocent and young, for
every fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit
free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity,
and love, to walk the world, and bless it with their
light.   Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on
such green  graves, some good is born, some gentler
nature comes.  In the  Destroyer's  steps there  spring
up bright creations that defy his power, and his dark
path becomes a way of light to Heaven."
  I have said that Mr. Dickens is the most popular of
living authors.   Will he  retain his popularity?  is a
question  which it would be difficult, to answer.  If we
attempt to answer it, we must not forget that he owes
his popularity as much to his selection of subjects,  as
to his ability as a writer.  He gives us graphic delinea-
tions  of  the impulses,  habits,  and passions of indi-
viduals  and  classes;  and reveals the  mysteries, and
excites the finest sympathies of  human nature, in con-
nection with scenes of the deepest interest, and the
manifestation of his own true regard  for his fellow-
man.   He has a deep and genuine love of the beauti-
ful  in man  and in nature.   Dr.  Lever—author  of
Charles  O'Malley—is thought  by some readers to  be
superior to Dickens as a writer.   He has a free, manly,
dashing mode of sketching life, manners, and humor-
ous incidents; but for the attainment of a wide-spread
popularity, it is one thing to sketch scenes in the Pen-
insular War, and at Lady Richmond's ball; and quite a
different  thing to describe Dotheboys Hall, and Oliver,
       3* 
26              CHARLES DICKENS
and  little Nell.  It was said, five years since, by an
English writer, that, "Tire Posthumous Papers of the
Pickwick Club is regarded as his great work by which
—if  ever—the  names of Boz and Dickens are to de-
scend to posterity."  That writer must have felt proud
of his prophetic skill as he read, in succession, Oliver
Twist, Nicholas Nickleby, and the Old Curiosity Shop.
  The continuance  of the popularity of Dickens, as
an author,  will depend on the  answer to three ques-
tions.  Has  he the ability to continue to write fiction
as good as the above mentioned works? Would such
works continue to interest the public, in an equal de-
gree? If, from want of ability to continue to produce,
or from satiety in his readers, he fail in his own pecu-
liar species  of  composition, could  he find, or create
another  road to popularity?  At  the  age of thirty, and
carried along by the flowing tide of popular favour,
these questions  cannot be answered.  His last work—
Barnaby Rudge—is not equal to its three  nearest pre-
decessors: but no  man  of genius, whether conversa-
tionist, orator, or wrriter is, on every  occasion, equal to
himself.   The great Homer sometimes nods.   We
cannot, with Dr. Johnson, define genius aa, A mind of
large general powers accidentally determined by  some
particular direction; as this is, more  properly,  a defini-
tion  of  universal  genius.   In  another place he  de-
scribes genius with more accuracy,  as, The power of
mind that collects, combines, amplifies, and animates;
the energy, without which judgment is cold, and know-
ledge is  inert.   But the mind of Dickens  is scarcely
matured.  He has not yet arrived at the age  beyond 
CHARLES DICKENS.
27
which, Dr. Johnson says, the mind never advances,
inasmuch as the powers of nature  have attained their
intended energy.  Unless he tax his powers too  far,
the age of forty, or forty-five will present him to us in
full intellectual manhood.  If he have only one rich
vein in his mine, and works  that day  and night,  the
abundance of the  precious metal will not  continue to
reward the toil  of the miner.  The  mind  of Shak-
speare was inexhaustible: it was, as Ben Jonson finely
says, the sphere of humanity.  Goethe compares his
characters to watches  with  dial-plates of transparent
crystal, which shew the hour, and enable us to see the
inward mechanism.   It has been  said that the fertile
genius of Shakspeare as a poet, and that  of Bacon as
a philosopher, exhausted the whole world of nature.
But  the  mines of intellect,  like those of  the natural
world, must be worked with judgment.  Our modem
Hogarth wrrites too ofteh and too fast; taking advantage,
I suppose, of that tide in the affairs  of men which
leads to fortune.  I have no doubt  that one prominent
motive which prompted him to visit this country,  was
a consciousness that his mind had been  overworked,
and  required  rest  and  a new train  of  associations.
Like  Scott, he indulges too much in  the impromptu
style of  writing.  The facility with which a given
amount of extempore composition is produced,  in-
creases by habit: the quality is a very different matter.
Literary  men might recollect, with advantage, the re-
mark of Bentley,  who, when  a critic threatened to
write him down, replied, No author  was ever written
down but by himself.  The advice  of Horace to an 
2s              CHARLES DICKENS.
author is to keep his book nine years in his study, that
he may review  and correct.   Gray's Elegy has per-
haps been more read and admired than any composition
in the English language.   The  author  commenced
the piece seven years before it was completed:  it has
had  many imitators,  but has never  been equalled.
Shakspeare and  Milton w-ould never  have been  the
glory of England if they had not  thought with inten-
sity before they wrote.   Such were the labour and en-
thusiasm of Milton, that he refused to abandon one of
his works, notwithstanding he was assured by his phy-
sicians that its  completion would produce a loss of his
sight.
   Some are disposed to predict the failure of Dickens:
comparing  him, perhaps, to  a  noble three-year-old
which accomplishes wonderful feats on the course, and
then "lets down."   Others  think he has  "bottom" as
well as speed.   Scott was more than  thirty years old
when he commenced his Metrical Romances.   The
public interest in his poetry was maintained beyond
half a score of years; and  when  it began to manifest
satiety, his Prose Romances appeared, and procured for
their  author the  title of  The Great Magician.  When
he wrote Waverly he was  forty-two years old;  at the
present age of Mr. Dickens he was unknown to fame.
At that age he  was  Sheriff of Selkirkshire:  twelve
years later he commenced the works which made  him
Sir Walter Scott, Baronet, of Abbotsford.   Goldsmith
was near his fortieth year when he published  his most
popular poems.   Milton had passed his half century
before he began  the composition of Paradise Lost; and 
                CHARLES  DICKENS.             29
he completed  it in seven years—a  period  exceeding
that employed by  Dickens in writing  all his  works.
What will be the estimate placed upon these works in
the next centuiy?  That is a very different question.
But the same may be said of Scott.  If we may judge
from the reception of  Zanoni, Buhver,  who  has  so
long been eminent as a writer of fiction, has produced
satiety, and must find a new road to popularity.  Works
written for amusement are generally produced with ra-
pidity.   It is easier to write a work in three volumes
than in one—condensation being more difficult than
amplification.   A celebrated orator of antiquity  having
detained a public assembly with a long speech, apolo-
gized by saying he had not had time to make it shorter.
Sheridan says, "Easy writing is sometimes *  * *  * hard
reading."  Hence  works written for amusement lose,
with their novelty, half their charm.   Our age receives
with favour one style of writing: the close of the cen-
tuiy may require a very different style.  Many authors
—before and since the time  of Lope de Vega—have
attained  unbounded popularity with  their own age,
whose  names  now are but little known.   Cervantes
and John Bunyan  were very obscure in their life-time;
and wrote Don Q,uixotte and Pilgrim's  Progress while
confined in  prison, with  sufficient  time  for thought.
Their names and  works are  alike immortal.  Dante
says he  is "growing grey" while writing the  Divina
Commedia;  but that work was not written for his own
centuiy.  Montesquieu wrote an article, for his  Esprit
des Loix, on  the  origin and revolutions of the civil
laws in France; and says, "You will read it in three 
30
CHARLES DICKENS.
 hours; but I do assure  you that it cost me so much
 labour that it has whitened my hair."   It has been
 computed that of the one thousand  books published
 annually  in  Great Britain, scarcely ten are thought of
 after  twenty years.   Paradise  Lost and Shakspeare's
 Plays are numbered among the  ten: but  Milton  and
 the Avon bard were not easy  and extempore writers.
 If a laborious writer should be asked why he composed
 with so much care and thought, he might answer, with
 the artist who replied to a similar question, I paint for
 eternity.
   Three years ago  I called Dickens the  Hogarth of
 prose fiction; the comparison between them failing in
 this, that the painter is often coarse, as will be recol-
 lected by those who have examined his Progresses: the
 writer is always delicate.  His  subsequent  productions
 have  not  destroyed  the points of the parallel.  An
 English author, during  the last year,  drew a com-
 parison between them, and says, "The same species of
 power displays itself  in each.  Like Hogarth, Dickens
 takes a keen  and practical view of  life;  is an able
 satirist; very successful  in depicting the ludicrous side
 of human nature, and rendering its follies  more appa-
 rent by humorous exaggeration; and is peculiarly skib
 ful in his management of details.  He is a very origi-
 nal author, well entitled to  his popularity, and  is the
 truest and most  spirited delineator of  English  life
among the middling  and lower classes of society since
the days of Smollett and Fielding."   He makes men
act as they appear in real life.   He has no mock-heroics
-—no overstrained descriptions—no sickening sentimen* 
                CHARLES DICKENS.             31
talities.   Artificial manners are  false manners.  Sim-
plicity is essential in our estimate of high  polish and
refinement.   And what is true of personal accomplish-
ment, is  no less true of writing.  The object of the
writer of fiction should be to,
          "Catch the manners, living, as they rise."
  The unexampled success of Dickens has produced
imitators of  his style of writing.  There is something
so easy, so natural, in the wTorks of genius  which pro-
duces the conviction that it would not be  difficult to
equal them: but the imitator shares the fate of Icarus
who rashly attempted, with his wings of wax, to follow
the course of the eagle in his flight towards the region of
the sun.  A description of vulgar, or profligate life may
be made to attract attention for the hour, even when the
author possesses moderate powers.  But it requires ge-
nius of a very high order to describe human nature in its
lowest grades, so as to excite those  sympathies of our
character which connect the outcasts of our race with
the great human  family: to portray man, corrupted
from childhood by profligate association, and  debased
by sensual indulgence, yet having a spark in his bosom
which may be kindled into a burning light;  and which,
as the feeblest pulsation shews  the presence of life,
proves that the soul  within him  came down from
heaven.  It is then we feel  that God is our common
Father; and that man—even  when debased—is still
our brother.   Human nature is never so  far degraded
as to lose all the sympathies which  connect us  with
our species;  and even a reprobate son, when standing 
32
CHARLES DICKENS.
 in the presence of a mother whose life he  had embit-
 tered, may feel  the inextinguishable impulses of his
 nature swell  within his bosom.  A fountain may be
 concealed from the view, and its existence unknown;
 but, if you remove the obstruction, it gushes forth, and
 imparts its living waters to the weary traveller.
  Ainsworth is one of the imitators of Dickens, without
 an  approach to rivalship.  One of his female charac-
 ters is well drawn.   Her nature is truly feminine; and
 there  is that  quiet,  meek  submission to accumulated
 miseiy which belongs to  the  character of woman.
 Stern man, like the mountain oak, is uprooted and
 prostrated by  the violence of the storm; while woman
 —delicate woman—bends before it like the osier bough,
 and rises again.  Her husband had died ignominiously;
 she was steeped in poverty; temptation, in that form more
 repulsive than death to  virtuous woman, had assailed
 her: and—as  if to make  the cup of misery overflow,
 and then present its very dregs to her lips—her son
 was outcast and outlawed.   The cords of that delicate
 instrument—the human  mind—snapped  asunder, and
she became a raving maniac.  But  there is a striking
contrast between the moral tendency of the writings of
 Dickens,  and  of those of Ainsworth and  others of the
same school, which tend to convince active and uned-
ucated youth  that, by following the examples of Dick
Turpin, Guy  Fawkes, and  Jack Sheppard, they may
acquire a romantic  immortality. If the  love  of  his
species be a part of the character of Ainsworth, he will,
after having read the Sixth Report of the  Inspector of
 Prisons in England, regret having written  Jack Shep- 
                CHARLES DICKENS.              33

pard, and  other contributions to Felon  Literature—
a species of writing so common in the present day.
   The  remark has often been made, that we cannot
judge of the personal  character of an  author from  his
writings.  The  remark may be true if confined  to
portions of his works; but the view of the whole will
give us some  defined idea of his moral  creed.  A
licentious man could not easily be a voluminous, and a
chaste writer.   The volcanic fire within  the mountain
would sometimes burst out, and melt the snow on its
summit.  Sterne should not be  judged by his chapters
on Le Fevre, Maria of Moulines, and the  Dead Ass.
They give us  no  reason  to suppose the writer would
refuse to make provision for his suffering mother.
His true character  is  better  inferred from Tristram
Shandy.  The Tale of a Tub, and Gulliver's Travels
furnish the correct view of the  man who could break
the  heart  of poor Stella.  But  all  the writings of
Dickens allow us  to infer that he  would  provide an
independent support for  his father; that  he would be
most exemplary in the discharge of all the duties of
the domestic and social relations; that he would suffer
intense agony from the  loss of a sister.   He confers
honour  on his country  and  his  species;  and every
admirer of genius in union with virtue, will wish that
he may live to erect—if  he have  not already accom-
plished the work—an imperishable literary monument
for England,
        "That land of scholars, and that nurse of arms."
4 
 
CHARLES LAMB.
  If  the reader  have ever seen  the  sketch—Yours
ratherish unwell—in which Lamb is represented as
resting his arms  on a table, and poring over some of
his old favourite books, the impression made on him
will  not be easily  effaced.  The slender  limbs, and
diminutive and ungraceful body, are in striking con-
trast with a head of the finest and most  intellectual
cast;  such a head as is said to be occasionally seen in
the best  of the portraits of Titian.   The view of this
sketch enables us to judge of the correctness  of the
description of Lamb by Leigh Hunt: "As is his frame,
so is his genius.   It is as fit for thought as can be, and
equally unfit for action."   Wordsworth describes him
as, The rapt one of the god-like forehead.  Barry Corn-
wall—Mr. Procter—gives his portrait as, "A little spare
man  in  black, with  a  countenance  pregnant with
expression, deep lines in his forehead, quick, luminous,
and restless eyes, and a smile as sweet as  ever threw
sunshine upon a human  face."   When we recollect
that, with bodily structure so unfit for active life, he
passed thirty-five  years in the India House, we will
be prepared to believe that the incidents which attracted
the public view to the monotony of his existence,werethfe 
:m
CHARLES LAMB
 appearance of those productions of his genius which
 have conferred  immortality on  his name.  The  lives
 of literary men  are generally  passed in  retirement.
 What  is true of piety is also true  of literature:  emi-
 nence  is attained by deep self-communion.
   Charles Lamb was born in London, February, 1775,
 of  humble,  but  highly worthy parents.   We  may
 apply  to  him, with  peculiar  propriety,  the remark
 which  has been made of men of genius: "These men
 have neither ancestors nor posterity; they alone com-
 pose their wiiole race."  At  the  age of seventeen he
 entered as a clerk in the India House, and continued
 in that employment until 1825, when he retired  on a
 pension equal to two-thirds of  his salary.  This  pen-
 sion was settled on him by the Company with great
 liberality, and supported him  during the ten remaining
 years  of his life.  He received a slight  injury on the
 face by an accidental  fall: this caused  erysipelatous
 inflammation of the head, which terminated his  life,
 after a few days of illness, in December, 1834, at the
 age of  sixty.
  Lamb was not an author by  profession.  The early
age at wiiich he entered the India House, and his con-
tinuance in that employment  until  he was fifty years
old, did not allow the ardent  pursuit of literature dur-
ing  that important  period of  his life.   This  will
account for  the fact, that one  of the  finest  minds of
this, or any other age, did not  produce more for pos-
 terity.  But, as he was not dependent on his pen for
support, he did not write until his mind was full of his
subject; and  then he had  leisure to  bestow a proper 
                 CHARLES LAMB.               37
degree of attention to the composition.   He  confined
his reading, chiefly, to the old authors of the Elizabe-
than Era; and perhaps  this circumstance contributed
to make  him  so  great a master of the  English  lan-
guage, and one of the most correct writers of the age.
He was delighted with old authors, like Thomas Ful-
ler, wiio  said, Though  reasons  are the  pillars of the
fabric, similitudes are  the window's  which  give  the
best  lights.  By an intimate acquaintance with such
authors,  he  cultivated the wit  which, Barrow says,
Lieth in pat  allusions to a known story,  in play with
words and phrases, in seasonable application of a tri-
vial saying, in tart irony, affected simplicity, odd simi-
litude, quirkish  reason,  acute   nonsense, humorous
expression, and startling metaphor.  His writings may
not  be appreciated by those who delight  in the perish-
ing literature of the day:  the reader of his Essays must
consent  to think, as they abound in thought.   The
delicate  texture of the  most beautiful marble is  not
seen, except by the curious eye.   He derived  his mate-
rials from the portions of society which are too humble
to attract public attention;  but every subject which he
touched, received importance and grace from his genius
and  delicate taste.  The old houses,  and streets,  and
book-stalls of  London  furnished subjects for his pen;
and,  in whatever he wrote, he shewed the connection
of his  sympathies with all that is  human.  Sweet
Elia, who that has read thy charming pages can ever
forget thee!
   Lamb commenced authorship at  an  early age, by
writing and publishing poetry.  . These pieces did not
       4* 
;fa               CHARLES  LAMB
meet  with a  favourable  reception from  readers, or
reviewers; and when  one of his sonnets was rejected,
he  exclaimed, " * * * the age, I will write  for Anti-
quity."   He  was  conscious  of the spirit that stirred
within him; but he had  not yet discovered, as Samson
did, in what  his strength consisted.   When he wrote
poetry—like him of Gaza, when his  hair was shorn—
he was "weak, and like any other man."  It is not to
be denied that there  is  some merit in his poetry:  but,
had he written nothing else, his memory would have
perished  from among  men.   His reading and amuse-
ments were intimately connected with the drama; and
he  contributed largely in  directing attention to the old
dramatic authors.   He wrote a Tragedy and a Farce
without success, as he did not possess the invention to
enable him to form the plot necessary for a play, or a
novel; and he derived no high  pleasure from the ro-
mances of Scott.  He has given a fine view of this part
of his own intellectual character in the Essay, Mackery
End.  It was his fate to be long treated with neglect, and
even derision, as an author; and his Essays, which  have
become  English classics, did not at  once establish
his fame.  The  little tale, Rosamund  Gray, attracted
far more notice and  commendation  than his  poetry;
and its comparative  popularity was sufficient to  have
convinced him that  he should cease  to invoke the
muses.   Nature  makes all  the poets and  orators.
This opinion is contained in that beautiful fiction of
 the Greeks, which  represents the  bees  as visiting the
 cradle of the infant Plato, and distilling their honey on
 his lips—thus presaging the future greatness of him 
                 CHARLES LAMB.               39
who,  on  account of  the  elegance,  sweetness,  and
eloquence of his speech and writings, was styled the
Athenian  bee:  and also in that other  fiction in which
the night before Plato, at the age of twenty, became
the pupil of  Socrates, the philosopher  dreamed  he
had  a young  swan in his bosom, which, when its
feathers  had grown,  spread its  wings,  and,  singing
with  inexpressible  sweetness, soared away into the
highest  regions of the air.  A man  may be  able to
dress  thoughts in lines  which have a succession of
harmonical sounds, without being a poet.   In  poetry,
mediocrity is failure:  there must  be the, Est Deus in
nobis.   But  in this pathetic little story, Lamb is evi-
dently at  home.  Read the  following description of
his heroine: "Rosamund Gray was the most beautiful
young creature that eyes ever beheld.  Her face had
the sweetest expression—a gentleness—a  modesty—a
timidity—a certain charm—a grace  without a name.
There was a melancholy mingled in her smile.  It
was not the thoughtless levity of a girl—it was not the
restrained  simper  of  premature  womanhood—it was
something which  the poet Young might have  remem-
bered when he composed that perfect line,
           'Soft, modest, melancholy, female, fair.'
She was  a mild-eyed maid: her yellow  hair fell in
bright curling clusters,  like
                 'Those hanging locks
              Of young Apollo.'
Her voice was trembling  and musical.   A gracefut
diffidence pleaded for her whenever she spake—and if
she said but little, that  little found its way to the heart. 
40               CHARLES LAMB.
Young, and artless, and  innocent, meaning no harm
and thinking none; affectionate as a smiling infant-
playful, yet unobtrusive as a weaned lamb—every body
loved her."  With what delicacy he draws the veil
over the fate of this lonely, unprotected virgin: "Rosa-
mund  Gray, my soul is  exceedingly  sorrowful  for
thee—I loathe to tell the hateful circumstances of thy
wrongs.   Night and  silence were the only witnesses
of this young maid's disgrace."   The following apos-
trophe to  the moon is very beautiful:  "See  how she
glideth, in maiden honour, through the clouds, winch
divide  on either side to  do her  homage.   Beautiful
vision! as I contemplate  thee, an internal harmony is
communicated to my mind, a moral brightness, a tacit
analogy of mental purity;  a calm  like that we ascribe
in fancy to  the  favoured inhabitants of thy fairy re-
gions.   I  marvel not, O Moon, that heathen people, in
the  olden times,  did worship  thy deity—Cynthia,
Diana, Hecate.   Christian Europe invokes  thee not
by these  names  now—her idolatry is  of a  blacker
stain: Belial  is her God—she worships Mammon.
  "Lady of Heaven,  thou  lendest thy  pure lamp to
light the way for the virgin mourner, wiien she goes to
seek the tomb where her  warrior-lover lies.  Friend
of the distressed,  thou  speakest  only  peace  to the
lonely sufferer, who walks forth in the placid evening
beneath  thy gentle light, to  chide at  fortune, or to
complain  of changed friends or unhappy lovers."  He
was  only twenty-three  years  old  when he wrote this
pathetic and interesting story, abounding with rational
and moral sentiment. 
                  CHARLES  LAMB.               4|

   Lamb particularly excelled in that veiy difficult de-
 partment of  literature—letter-writing.   A  letter is a
 conversation with a friend; the  pen being  substituted
 for the tongue, as the mode  of  communication.  The
 same rules apply to both; a combination of  good sense
 and wit being equally essential.  "Nonsense," says
 one wrho excelled in conversation, "talked  by men of
 wit and  understanding, in the hour of relaxation, is of
 the very finest essence of conviviality, and a treat deli-
 cious to  those who have the sense to comprehend it;
 but it  implies a trust in the  company not always to be
 risked."  Gibbon says, in his memoirs, that he sought
 society for simple relaxation; if he wished  more seri-
 ous  occupation, he returned to  his books.  With  this
 object in  view, he  selected his  company, and  the
 topics  of conversation.   I have been told by a gentle-
 man who wras personally acquainted with Dr. Thomas
 Brown,  the celebrated  Professor of Moral Philosophy
 in the University of Edinburgh, that  he  delighted in
 frequenting brilliant evening-company, when he would
 lay aside the metaphysician,  and invest nonsense with
 the  most  captivating graces of eloquence and wit.
 The object of letter-writing is the same as that of con-
 versation.  An essay is not a letter; the form in which
 it is written does not alter its character.   You do  not
 change the "thing"  when you  change its  name.   A
 dissertation is not conversation; and  hence Coleridge
 was not, as he has  been styled, a great master of this
 delightful accomplishment.    The  speaking  was all
 done by  himself, and his friends  listened with great
delight.  It was in  allusion to this,  when  Coleridge 
42
CHARLES LAMB.
asked Lamb, "Charles, did you ever hear me preach?"
that he replied, "I never heard you do any thing else."
The conversation of Bacon  was  remarkably  skilful
and graceful.   When  he spoke, his  hearers were so
enchanted that they  did  not wish him to cease.  But
he desired rather to listen than to speak—"glad  to light
his torch at any man's candle."  This  great philoso-
pher was  eminently free  from the  infirmity  which
Shelley ascribed  to Byron, "It is  his weakness to be
proud."  Sir  James  Mackintosh, who was a great
master of conversation, says,  "Letters must not be on
a subject.  Lady Mary Wortley's letters on her jour-
neys to Constantinople, are an admirable  book of tra-
vels, but they are not letters.   A meeting to  discuss
questions of science is not conversation;  nor are papers
written to another, to inform or discuss,  letters.   Con-
versation is relaxation, not business, and  must never
appear to be occupation;  nor must letters.   A moment
of enthusiasm, a burst of feeling, a flash of eloquence,
may be allowed;  but the intercourse of  society,  either
in conversation or in letters, allows no  more."  Men of
genius do  not always excel  in conversation.   Their
retired and contemplative habits often disqualify them
for social intercourse.   It has been finely said of them
that, It   is in the  world they  borrow the  sparks of
thought that fly upwards  and perish;  but the flame of
genius can only be lighted in their own  solitary breast.
  In his letters, Lamb holds  up a mirror in which we
see himself.   We discover the workings  of  his mind
and heart:  his quaint conceits expressed in clear  and
nervous  English—genuine English: his wit, his plea* 
                 CHARLES LAMB.               43

santry, and all  his  warm affections.  The  letters of
Cowley—the  melancholy poet, as he styles himself—
were  suppressed by Sprat and  Clifford,  because, as
Bishop  Sprat remarks, "In this kind of prose Mr.
Cowley was excellent.  They had a domestical plain-
ness,  and  a peculiar kind of familiarity.  In letters,
the souls of men should appear undressed;  and  in
that negligent habit, they may be fit to be seen by one
or two in a chamber, but not to  go abroad  into  the
streets."   That "domestical plainness," and "peculiar
kind of familiarity" which give letters all their value,
are assigned as the cause for their suppression!  Wo-
men excel  in letter-writing because, as has  been finely
remarked,  "The extent  to  which  their  intellectual
powers dwell  in, and are developed by the affections,
constitutes their characteristic weakness and character-
istic strength."  Cowper and Lamb were  remarkable
for affectionate regard for their friends, and their inte-
rest in all that belongs to humanity;  and  hence they
are among the best letter-writers  in the  English lan-
guage.   Pope wrote better poetry than letters.  It  has
been  asserted that  they  were  written  for  publica-
tion: and letters thus prepared, must always be defi-
cient in that natural grace, and  careless ease  which
constitute their chief excellence.   They may be fine
compositions;  but  will lose the  character  of letters.
Could any man  converse with  ease and  grace, if a
reporter were present, taking down his remarks?  The
published report would be a lecture, or dissertation—
not conversation.  Perhaps Dr.  Johnson  knew  that
Boswell  kept  a record of. his  observations.   Horace 
44              CHARLES LAMB.
Walpole was, from  his position  and amusing talents,
eminently qualified  to write charming letters;  but they
are the letters of a courtier.   His  education, habits,
and  associations,  enabled him to describe  the court,
fashion,  politics,  belles-lettres, and  nonsense of  the
times of the second and third George: but if he give
a living picture of character and  manners, it is in con-
nection with the vices and follies  of the period.  They
are such  letters as we would expect from one who  has
been  described as an "agreeable letter-writer, dandy-
historian, and heartless man."   He  was not a man of
genius, but is unrivalled as a writer of letters.  The
letters of Cowper and  Lamb surround  us  with  an
atmosphere of affection, while they present to us  the
loving intercourse of friends.   The letters of  Walpole
shew us he was not free from many of the weaknesses
and follies of the time and society in which he lived.
The  letters of  Lamb  and Cowper make us better,
more wise, and more happy.  We cannot expect such
effects from the letters of Walpole, whose predominant
traits of character were avarice and  vanity: who, after
being convinced  he could never  acquire  reputation,
beyond mediocrity,  as an author, affected  a contempt
for authorship.  He was a "heartless and  volatile man
of literature and  rank:"  and has been styled, "That
thing of silk."
   The Essays of  Elia, and his Criticisms, are the most
popular of the writings of Lamb; and  although, in a
moment of irritation, he  said he  would write  for An-
tiquity, these Essays will convey  his name to posterity.
The first—The South Sea House—was published in 
                 CHARLES LAMB.               /^,

 the London Magazine, and he adopted the signature.
 Elia; the  sobriquet of a gay,  light-hearted Jewish
 foreigner who had  been a clerk in  that House;  but
 whose real name was  Lomb.  He continued to  use
 this  signature to various  essays during the  remaining
 fourteen years of his life, and the sobriquet of the old
 clerk of the South-Sea  House  has  become that of
 Charles Lamb.  These Essays  "are not merely,  ex-
 clusively English, but townish—belonging to London
 —Hogarth's, and Handel's, and Pope's London—the
 London of coffee-houses  and theatres, of  the South-
 Sea House, and the book-stalls of Holborn—the same
 city  as  that  which held Johnson in such powerful
 thrall.  They are,  in short, whimsically, breathingly,
 kindly individual."   The knowledge, wit, and tender
 pathos of Elia place him in the  same rank, as an es-
 sayist, with Montaigne, Addison, and Steele.  Reader,
 the next time you leave home to enjoy a Summer  ex-
 cursion, take  with  you the Essays of Montaigne and
 Lamb, and they will enable you to pass many pleasant
 hours.  His descriptive powers  are displayed  in  the
 following  view of the  home of the  very  poor man:
 "That face, ground  by want, in which every cheerful,
 every conversable lineament has been long effaced by
 misery—is that a face to stay at home  with?  Is it more
 a woman,  or  a wild cat? Alas!  it is  the face  of  the
 wife  of his youth that once smiled upon him.   It can
smile no longer.  What  comforts can it share, what
 burdens can it lighten?  Oh, 'tis a fine thing to talk of
 the humble meal  shared  together! But what if there
 be no bread in the cupboard? The innocent prattle of
      5 
46                CHARLES LAMB.
his  children  takes out the sting of a man's poverty.
But the  children of the very poor do not prattle.   It
is none of the least frightful features in that  condition,
that there  is no childishness in its dwellings.  Poor
people, said a sensible old nurse  to  us once, do not
bring up  their children; they drag them up.   The little
careless darling of the wealthier nursery, in their  hovel
is transformed betimes into a premature—reflecting per-
son.  No one has time to dandle it; no  one thinks  it
worth while  to coax  it, to soothe it, to toss  it up and
down,  to humour it.   There is none to kiss away its
tears.  If it cries, it can only be beaten.   It has been
prettily said  that a babe is fed with  milk and praise.
But the aliment of this poor babe was thin, unnourish-
ing; the return to its little baby tricks and efforts to en-
gage attention, bitter, ceaseless  objurgation.   It  never
had a toy, or knew what a coral meant.   It grew up
without  the  lullaby  of  nurses; it w7as  a stranger to
the patient fondle, the hushing caress,  the  attracting
novelty,  the costlier play-thing, or the cheaper off-hand
contrivance to divert the  child; the prattled nonsense—
best sense to  it—the  wise impertinences, the apt story
interposed  that  puts a stop to  present sufferings, and
awakens the  passions of  young wonder.   It was never
sung  to—no one ever told it  a tale of the nursery.
It was dragged up, to live or to  die, as  it happened.   It
had no young dreams.  It broke at once into the iron
realities of life.   It is never its parent's  mirth; his di-
version,  his solace; it never makes him young  again
with recalling  his young times.   The  child  of the
very poor has no young times.   It has  come  to be  a 
                  CHARLES LAMB.               47

man, or a woman, before it was a child.  It has learned
to go to market; it  chaffers, it haggles, it envies, it mur-
murs: it is knowing, acute, sharpened; it never prattles.
Had we not reason to say, that the home of the  veiy
poor is no home?"  This is intellectual portrait-paint-
ing.   Why, Hogarth's Progresses are not  presented to
the eye in characters more impressive, than Lamb here
presents to the mind  the child  of  the very poor man.
   As a critic, Lamb is almost without a rival in English
literature.  It has  been said of him that,  in  criticism,
he was  "a discoverer  like Yasco Nunez or Magellan."
Read his criticism, On the  Tragedies of  Shakspeare;
in which he explains  the causes of the different effects
produced by a play when read, and by the same  play
when acted; and sketches the character of  Hamlet—of
Richard—of  Lear—of Othello.  Can you find, in any
author,  a nobler criticism—one that more irresistably
proves the mind of a  master? Let us select an extract:
"The truth is, the characters  of  Shakspeare  are  so
much the objects of meditation, rather than of interest,
or curiosity as to their actions, that while we are read-
ing any of his great criminal  characters—Macbeth,
Richard, even Iago—we think not so much of the
crimes  which they commit, as of the ambition, the
aspiring spirit, the  intellectual activity, which prompts
them to overleap these moral fences.  So little, com-
paratively,  do the actions of such characters  in Shak-
speare  affect us,  that while the impulses,  the  inner
mind in all its perverted  greatness, solely  seems  real,
and  is exclusively attended to, the crime  is, in com-
parison, nothing.   But when we see those things repre- 
48               CHARLES LAMB.
 sented, the acts  which  they do  are, comparatively,
 everything; their  impulses  nothing.   The  state of
 sublime  emotion  into which we are elevated by those
 images of night and horror wiiich Macbeth is made to
 utter, that solemn prelude with which he entertains the
 time till  the bell shall strike which is to call him to
 murder Duncan—when we no longer read it in a book,
 when  we have given up  that vantage  ground of ab-
 straction which reading  possesses  over  seeing,  and
 come to see a man in his bodily shape before our eyes,
 actually  preparing to commit a murder, if the acting
 be true and impressive—as I have  witnessed in  Mr.
 K's  performance  of  that part—the  painful  anxiety
 about the act,  the natural longing to prevent it while
 it seems yet unperpetrated, the too close-pressing sem-
 blance of reality, give a pain and an uneasiness which
 totally destroy all the delight which the words in the
 book convey, wiiere the deed doing never presses upon
 us with the painful sense of presence.  It rather seems
 to belong to history—to something past and inevitable,
 if  it has anything at all to do with time.   The sublime
 images, the poetry  alone, is that wiiich is present to
 our minds in the reading.
   "So to see Lear acted—to see an old man tottering
about  the  stage with a  walking stick, turned out of
doors by his daughters in a rainy night, has nothing in
it but what  is  painful and disgusting.  We want to
take  him into shelter and relieve him.   That is  all
the feeling  which  the acting of Lear  ever produced in
me.   But the Lear  of Shakspeare  cannot  be acted.
The  contemptible machinery  by which  they mimic 
                  CHARLES LAMB.               49

the storm which he goes out in, is not more inadequate
to represent the  horrors of the real elements, than any
actor can be to represent Lear: they might more easily
propose to personate  the  Satan  of  Milton  upon  the
stage, or one of Michael Angelo's terrible figures. The
greatness of Lear is not in corporeal  dimension, but in
intellectual: the explosions of his passion are terrible
as a volcano: they are storms turning up, and disclosing
to  the  bottom that sea, his mind,  with all its  vast
riches.   It is his mind which  is laid bare.   This case
of  flesh and blood  seems  too   insignificant  to be
thought on, even  as  he himself  neglects it.  On the
stage wre see nothing but  corporeal  infirmities and
weakness, the impotence of rage.   While we read it,
we see not Lear, but we are Lear:  we are in his mind;
we are sustained by a grandeur which baffles the ma-
lice of daughters and  storms.   In the  aberrations  of
his reason we discover a  mighty, irregular power of
reasoning, immethodized from the ordinary  purposes
of life,  but exerting  its  powers,  as  the wind blows
where  it listeth, at will  upon the  corruptions  and
abuses of mankind.   What have  looks or tones to do
with that sublime  identification of his age with  that of
the heavens  themselves, when, in his reproaches  to
them for conniving at the injustice of his children, he
reminds them that 'they themselves  are old.'  What
gesture  shall we appropriate to this?  What has the
voice, or the eye to do with such things?  But the play
is beyond all art: Lear is  essentially impossible to be
represented upon the stage."
   The  private character of Lamb, with one  mean-
       s' 
50
CHARLES LAMB.
choly exception, was without reproach.  His purity of
character may  be  inferred from  his writings.   It has
been said that, "Licentious writers may be very chaste
persons:  the imagination may be a volcano, while the
heart is an Alp of ice."  This may be true;  but the
converse would not necessarily follow, that licentious
persons may be very chaste waiters.  If the imagina-
tion do not  affect the passions, the  criminal  indul-
gence of the passions will affect the imagination: but
the history of literature may furnish exceptions to the
general rule.  Lamb was not  more remarkable for his
genius, than for a kind,  amiable, and gentle  nature.
Southey said, "Others might possess the milk of human
kindness, but  Charles Lamb had  monopolized the
cream."   In his  early  life he thus wrote  to a friend:
"I am wedded, Coleridge, to the fortunes of my sister,
and my poor old father.   Oh! my friend, I think, some-
times,  could I recall  the days that  are past,  which
among them should I choose?  Not those 'merrier days,'
not the 'pleasant days of hope,' not 'those  wanderings
with a fair-hair'd maid,' which I have so often, and so
feelingly  regretted;  but  the  days,  Coleridge,  of  a
mother's fondness for her schoolboy.   What would I
not give to call her back to earth  for one day, that, on
my knees,  I might ask her  pardon for  all  those little
asperities  of temper, which, from time to time, have
given her gentle spirit pain?" His father died when he
was twenty-one;  and from  that  time  he devoted his
whole life to his sister,* who was ten  years older than
  'Lamb did not marry; and the following great authors also de-
cided for celibacy:  Michael Angelo, Boyle, Peiresc, Newton, Locke, 
CHARLES  LAMB.
51
himself.   She  had been  a mother  to him  when  he
was a delicate and helpless child;  when  he  arrived at
man's estate, he  became the protector of her who had
been to him in  the place  of  a mother.    She  is  the
Bridget Elia of his Essays—a kind-hearted and gentle
creature—admirably suited  to  beguile the loneliness,
and soothe  the sorrows of  such a brother;  and  their

Bayle, Shenstone, Leibnitz, Hobbes, Voltaire, Adam Smith, Pope,
Swift, Thomson,  Akenside, Arbuthnot, Hume, Gibbon,  Cowper,
Goldsmith,  Gray.   It would not be  difficult to extend  the list.
Michael Angelo replied to one  who asked  him why he  preferred
celibacy: "I have espoused my  art, and it occasions me  sufficient
domestic cares, for my works shall be my children."  To this deci-
sion of the great artist, we may oppose the following beautiful senti-
ment: "A wife who  re-animates the drooping genius of her husband,
and a mother who is inspired by the ambition of beholding her sons
eminent, is she not the real being whom the ancients personified in
their Muse?"
  The following remarkable array of facts, in relation to the family
history of men eminently distinguished for genius, is taken from a
late number of the London Quarterly:
  "We are  not going to speculate about the causes of the fact—but
a fact it is—that men  distinguished for extraordinary intellectual
power, of any sort,  very rarely leave more than a very brief line of
progeny behind them.  Men of genius have scarcely ever done so-
men of imaginative  genius, we might  say, almost never.  With the
one exception of the noble Surrey, we  cannot, at this moment, point
out a representative in the male line, even so far down as in the
third generation,  of any English Poet; and we believe the case is
the same in France.  The  blood of beings of that order can seldom
be  traced far down, even in the  female line.  With the exception of
 Surrey and Spenser, we are not aware of any great  English author,
of  at all remote date, from whose body any living person claims to
be  descended.  There  is no other real English poet, prior to the
 middle of the  eighteenth century, and we believe  no great author of
 any sort, except Clarendon and Shaftsbury, of whose blood we have
 any inheritance amongst us.   Chaucer's only son died childless. 
rv>
CHARLES LAMB.
life-long association of  undiminished, ever-increasing
affection,  from his  infancy  to three-score years,  was
most beautiful.   In one of his essays  he says of her,
 'We house together, old bachelor and maid, in a sort
of double  singleness; with such tolerable comfort, upon
the whole, that I, for  one, find  in myself no  sort  of
disposition to  go  out upon  the  mountains, with the
rash  king's  offspring, to  bewail  my  celibacy."  He
once expressed the desire that he  could throw  into
a  heap the  remainder  of their joint  existences,  that
they might share  them  in  equal  division.  The most
iffectionate  and earnest watchings on her part,  were
repaid  by deference and  gratitude.   If she  were un-
usually silent,  or  languid in company, he wTould ask:

Shakspeare's line  expired in his  daughter's only daughter.  None
of the other dramatists of that age  left any progeny: nor Raleigh,
nor Bacon, nor Cowley, nor Butler.   The grand-daughter of Milton
was the last of his blood.  Neither Bolingbroke, nor Addison,* nor
Warburton, nor Johnson, nor Burke, transmitted their blood.  M.
Renourd's last argument against a perpetuity in literary property is,
that it would be founding another noblense.  Neither jealous aristo-
cracy, nor envious jacobinism need  be under much alarm.  When a
human  race has  produced its 'bright consummate flower' in this
kind, it 'seems commonly to be near its end.'  The theory is illus-
trated in our own day.  The two  greatest names  in science and
literature of our time were Davy and  Sir Walter Scott.   The first
died  childless.  Sir Walter left  four children, of whom  three are
dead, only one of them  (Mrs. Lockhart) leaving issue, and the
fourth, (his  eldest son,) though living, and long married, has  no
issue.  These are curious facts."

  *This is an  error.  Addison had  a daughter,  whose  mother was
Countess of Warwick; who was taught contempt for authors, and was
proud of her alliance, through  her mother, with nobility—blushing to
acknowledge the name of her father, more illustrious than  that of all
the Warwicks that ever lived. 
                 CHARLES LAMB.               53

Mary, does your head ache?  Don't you feel unwell?
and it was not easy to quiet  his apprehensions.   The
world has never produced an union—unselfish, deep,
and long-continued—between  a brother  and  sister,
more  attractive from its moral beauty.
   I know a man  to  whom these  scenes  of fraternal
affection recall former days, when he indulged ardent
wishes  that he had had  a sister: one whom he might
have  cherished, and guided,  and  loved.  He once had
a sister, a few years his junior—himself too  young to
recollect her.  He has heard her little prattle and ways
described, giving early promise of ardent feeling, and
woman's nature.   When two years old, she was  said
to be most  interesting and lovely.  And  then,  this
sweet little flower, which had just begun to expand
her leaves, fragrant with  the drops of morning dew, to
the first rays of the morning sun, calmly  and gently
laid her head on its natural  resting-place—a mother's
bosom—and looked,  and smiled,  and died.  Died?
Life  and immortality are  brought to light by  the
Cospel.   She was only transplanted from this scene of
tumult,  and sorrows,  and  storms,  to  a more genial
clime where she  will  flourish in immortal bloom:  and
he may adopt the language employed by David, when
told his  child was dead, I shall go to her, but she shall
not return to me.
  So  kind was the nature of Lamb—so constant his
friendships—that but one instance is recorded in which
he assumed a hostile  position.   Several articles in the
Quarterly Review, which was conducted by Southey,
had commented, unjustly, on his theological creed and 
54
CHARLES LAMB.
his single frailty.   I have read the "Letter of Elia to
Robert  Southey, Esq." with admiration that a man,
who was able to defend himself with such manliness
of spirit and keenness of sarcasm, should  not, by the
consciousness of his powers, have been oftener tempted
into controversy.  But his gentle nature enabled him to
overcome the temptation.   Mutual explanations soon
restored the confidence of these long-attached friends.
His acquaintance with Coleridge commenced in his
youth,  and he remained  his "fifty-years-old friend
without a division."  In one  of his essays, he thus apos-
trophizes him: "Come back into memory, like as thou
wert in  the day-spring of thy  fancies, with hope like
a fiery  column before thee—the  dark pillar not yet
turned—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Logician, Meta-
physician,  Bard!"   He thus apostrophizes  another
friend:  "Magnificent were  thy capricios on this globe
of earth, Robert William Elliston! for as yet we know
not thy new name in heaven."*   Lamb was a fine
exemplification of  the beautiful sentiment of Sterne,
All hail, you small swTeet courtesies of life, for pleasant
do you  make the way of it.   Like grace and beauty,
that attract us at first sight, 'tis you that open the door
and let the stranger in.
    When speaking of the personal character of Lamb,
I remarked that, with  one   exception, it was  without
reproach.   He had a delicate frame, a nervous tempe-
rament, wras fond of study and society, with
         "Affections warm as sunshine, free as air;"
  * I find the same beautiful thought used by Dr. Young iii the first
line of Night Sixth: "She—for I know not yet her name in heaven." 
CHARLES LAMB.
o/i
and, when exhausted  by labour, or partaking of the
enjoyment of convivial circles, he too  often indulged
in artificial excitement.   But his memory should be
vindicated from the charge that his Essay, The Con-
fessions of a  Drunkard, was  designed  as a picture of
his own sad condition at the time it wTas written.   It is
a representation of the tendency of  convivial habits,
drawn with  graphic  power; and may be read with
advantage by those who  find themselves approaching
the verge  of  that dreadful precipice.   The Essay was
written fourteen years before his death; and  if he had
then  been so  far  prostrated by intemperance, how
could he, during this period, have produced the works
that have made Elia immortal in English literature?
Yet it cannot be denied  that his otherwise fair fame
wras, in a measure, obscured—especially during the last
years of his life—by this deplorable frailty.   His letter
of self-condemning  apology to  Mr. Carey, at whose
table he had  indulged imprudently;  and his poignant
reflections on the pain he  gave his sister by such devi-
ations, combine, with other circumstances, to attest the
melancholy fact.   He had  nobly  struggled against
another bad habit, and immortalized his victory by, A
Farewell to Tobacco; but this tyrant, beneath whose
power many strong men have  fallen, held  him in a
grasp so firm, that he has  become another proof of the
infirmities of genius.   A man, who is insensibly form-
ing destructive habits, should read the letters of Lamb
on the progress and effects of intemperance;  and those
of Coleridge on  his subjugation by opium.   Gin did
not improve  the verses of Byron; nor wine the essay? 
56               CHARLES LAMB.

of Elia; nor opium the poetry of Coleridge.   Such
are not  intellectual  pleasures; and all they  can ever
effept is thus finely  stated by  Lamb: "It is a fearful
truth, that the intellectual faculties, by repeated acts of
intemperance, may be driven from their orderly sphere
of action, their clear day-light ministries, until  they
shall be brought at last to depend, for the faint mani-
festation of their departing energies, upon the return-
ing periods of the fatal madness to  which they owe
their devastation."
  It was unfortunate for Lamb that, ten  years before
his death, he was released from his duties at the India
House,  where  he  had  been  employed  in arduous
labour  for  thirty-five years.  He once sportively re-
marked that the most  delightful of  all employments
was doing nothing.   After  his  emancipation from the
service of the Company, he said, "No work is worse
than overwork,"  and complained that, "When all is
holiday, I have no holidays." During his  confinement
to the desk, he sighed for freedom to wander over fields
and  woods, and  luxuriate  in the beauties of nature:
after his discharge, and retirement to the country, he
longed for crowded  streets  and  the  busy haunts of
men.   Why should  man wish  to be  discharged  from
labour?   It is the law of his nature,  "In  the sweat of
thy face shalt thou eat bread;" equally essential to his
happiness and usefulness—like the mass  of the great
waters, whose purity is  preserved  by their constant
motion.  If Lamb had not been a devotee  to litera-
ture while  employed in  the  India House, he might
have found  occupation  in  that,  when  his  labours 
CHARLES LAMB.
57
ceased.  But his labours, and the pursuit of literature
had co-existed for thirty years, and the one had palled
when the other had  closed.  He had  none of  the
tender charities of husband and  father.on wiiich to
repose: charities which, down to the close of life's
long pilgrimage, are a never failing fountain of emo-
tions—ever fresh, and  ever young.  A centuiy before
the time of Lamb, the Earl of Peterborough said:  "If
I were a man of many plums, and a good heathen, I
would dedicate  a temple to laziness." This is a false
view  of human happiness.  A life of idleness  never
can be, under the most favourable circumstances, a life
of true enjoyment.  The  pleasure of the sportsman
consists in the  pursuit, not in the possession, of  the
game.  "No human being, however exalted his rank
and fortune, however  enlarged and cultivated his  un-
derstanding,  can  be long  happy without a  pursuit.
Life is a ladder on which we climb from hope to hope,
and by expectation strive to ascend to enjoyments; but
he  who fancies he has reached  his highest  hope  is
miserable indeed;  or  who enjoys the utmost of his
wishes; for  many, who have been most successful in
their respective  undertakings, have given the gloomiest
description of the emptiness of human pleasures.  The
pursuit alone can  yield true happiness:  and the most
trifling object that  has power to fascinate the hopes of
man, is worthy of  his attention."
   The life  of eveiy man  contains  its moral;  and, in
that view, belongs to posterity.   The lessons of virtue
which are thus taught, make it  proper to lift the  cur-
tain on acts which, otherwise, had  better  lie buried in
       6 
58
CHARLES  LAMB.
our graves.   The genius and the gentle nature of
Charles Lamb excite our admiration and our love; but,
even weeping virtue is not allowed to interpose  the
veil which would conceal his frailty from our view. 
HENRY MARTYN—JOHN S. NEWBOLD.
  The character of Henry Martyn is one of the most
beautiful  presented  to  us in  Christian  biography.
Refined in taste, gentle and affectionate in disposition,
accomplished in  attainments, brilliant in genius, pure
in life, ardent  and devoted in  piety, he  was justly
styled by his friends, a bright and lovely jewel.   His
conversion  took  place  when  he was  a  student  at
Cambridge; and the reader of  his memoirs is forcibly
impressed by  the contrast between the degree of his
religious experience  at  that time, and the unreserved
devotedness of  his subsequent life.   The fruit was be-
yond the promise of the  early blossomings.  The child,
at birth, scarcely gave evidence of  life: but, when he
attained his manhood, he filled  England, and Persia,
and  India with his fame;  and, having relinquished all
the bright and  alluring prospects of worldly advance-
ment, he lived  daily on the  bread that was sent down
from  heaven.   What was the cause of this disparity
between his early, and subsequent religious experience?
He was a  candidate for  the  highest  honours of his
College; and he ascribed  the low state of his piety, at
that period, to the eagerness  and intenseness with
which he pursued that object.   The view he took of 
 60               HENRY MARTYN.

 the subject was, I have no doubt, correct.   Knowledge
 is useful; and its attainment is an object of legitimate
 pursuit for the Christian, because its possession enlarges
 his sphere of action.   But, I  contend that the ardent
 pursuit of academical honours has a direct and invaria-
 ble tendency to repress and extinguish religious emo-
 tions;  and I do not believe any man ever advanced in
 true Christian character while engaged in the contest; or
 even retained the piety with wiiich it was commenced.
 And I make this broad assertion, because 1 believe no
 man ever pursued that  particular course  of study, in-
 dispensably  necessary  to obtain the highest collegiate
 honours, without having had his mind more occupied
 with his own  advancement, than with a desire to promote
 the glory of his Maker.  In  other  words, he  makes
 the honours his idol, which occupies, in his affections,
 the supremacy that belongs  to  the giver of all good.
 He might, under other circumstances, pursue his studies
 as intensely, and without injurious consequences, be-
 cause pride and self-exaltation would not be cherished.
 But, within  the walls  of a College—that world in
 miniature—contests for pre-eminence manifest the same
 love of glory that is displayed by the statesman in the
halls of legislation, or by the soldier on bloody fields.
Ambition has been called  the last infirmity of noble
minds.   Christianity finds it in the heart of its votary,
and does not extinguish, but  sanctifies,  this natural
 emotion.  She teaches, Blessed  are the poor in spirit;
 and that no man, who entertains an exalted opinion of
himself, can  hold  high communion with  heaven.  If
there be any truth in  Christianity, her tendency is to 
                 HENRY MARTYN.              61
teach man humility, that God may be all in  all.   I
wish to be understood.  I am not opposing the acquisi-
tion of knowledge, but  inculcating purity of motive.
Circumstances, to  which  I shall  not make  further
reference, have called my attention to the consideration
of this subject.  Brainerd, when at Yale College, made
this note in his diary: "I grew more cold and dull in
religion by means of my old temptation, viz. ambition
in  my studies."   Martyn obtained the honours for
which he had so intensely toiled, and made this record:
"I  obtained  my  highest wishes, but was surprised to
find that I had grasped  a shadow."  Such is the brief
and true history of  earthly glory.  Expectations of
happiness, based  on any object beneath the  sun, are
built too low.  "If any man thirst, let him come unto
me and drink."
   Brilliancy  of genius,  and extensive acquirements,
would have  secured to Henry Martyn position  and
competence  in secular  pursuits.  His original design
was to study  lawr; chiefly, as he confesses, "Because  I
could not consent to be poor for Christ's sake."   But
his piety increased after he had completed his collegiate
studies; and  he determined  to devote  himself to the
 cause of his Master.   Had he chosen  to remain in
England, his qualifications and high reputation would
have placed  him in a  distinguished  position in the
Established  Church: but, having determined  to give
up much for  the holiest of causes, it was comparatively
easy, for a noble mind like his, to resolve to give up all.
He selected Asia as the  field for his missionary labours;
and effected  more for the great cause of human happi -
       6* 
62
HENRY MARTYN.
 ness, by giving this direction to his efforts, than could
 have been  accomplished if he had remained in En-
 gland.   He did not want the eagle's eye to  endure the
 blazing  sun, nor the  eagle's wing to bear him to it;
 but the beauty and splendour of  the1 flight  would not
 have been so conspicuous in a land of  abundant light
 and great men, as when  he hovered  over  heathen
 lands, and scattered in his path the Word of Life.  If
 he had  remained in  England, he would  have gone
 down to posterity as an accomplished scholar, and de-
 voted Christian.  Now, his name  stands in high con-
 nection with the greatest cause that ever engaged the
 attention of man; and will remain, through  all coming
 time, as a beacon-light to guide the steps of other noble
 spirits, in making the same self-sacrifice on the same
 holy altar.  The splendid tomb of Francis Xavier will
 never cease to arrest  the  attention of the Christian
 pilgrim,  when he sojourns at Goa. When  he rests at
 Tocat, he will  visit the humble monument of Henry
 Martyn:  and, as  memory  calls up the lovely spirit
 which once animated the ashes that repose beneath its
 base, he will dwell, wjth admiration and delight, on the
heroic greatness of him, who consumed a feeble frame
 by the action of  the mighty principle which caused
him to  dwell,  and die, far from   friends and home.
 uPaucioribus lacrymis compositus es," is the lamen-
tation that might  have been addressed over his  de-
parting hour.  The last words he  entered in his diary,
written ten days before his death, were: "I sat in the
orchard and thought with sweet comfort and peace of
my God; in solitude  my  company,  my friend, and 
                 HENRY MARTYN.               63
comforter.   Oh, when shall time give place to eternity!
When shall appear that new heaven, and new earth,
wherein dwelleth righteousness! There, there shall in
no wise enter  any thing  that  defileth: none of that
wickedness which hath made  men  wrorse than wild
beasts;  none of those corruptions which add to the
miseries of mortality, shall be  seen, or heard of any
more."  He died, October 16th, 1812, at Tocat, in
Persia, at the early age of thirty-one.
   I  cannot abstain from a brief mention of one part
of his private history.  A  noble nature is ever suscep-
tible  of all tender emotions; and  his  affections  were
irrevocably  placed on one worthy of  his devoted at-
tachment.   She did  not consent to accompany him to
India; and, when he left England, he felt that  he
"parted with L----forever in this life."   During the
voyage he landed at the  Cape of Good Hope, and
wrote: "In my walk home by the sea-side, I sighed on
thinking of L----, with whom I had stood on the shore
before coming  away, a*id  of the long  seas that were
rolling between us."  And again, five years after he
had  left England, he made this record: "I was walk-
ing with L----, both much affected, and speaking on
the things dearest to us both.   I awoke, and behold it
was a dream! I shed tears.  The  clock  struck three,
and  the moon  wras riding near her highest noon:  all
was silence and solemnity, and  I thought, with  pain,
of the sixteen  thousand miles between us.   Good  is
the will of the Lord, even  if I see  her no more."
These emotions were experienced at  Cawnpore, far
from the abode  of civilized man, and amidst surround- 
#■
 64              JOHN S. NEWS OLD.
 ing paganism.   His pure and  gentle spirit, with thai
 of her he loved, has bathed in the  river which flows
 by the everlasting throne; and the union, not permitted
 on earth, has taken place in heaven.
   John S. Neweold was also a member of the Epis-
 copal  Church, and resembled  Martyn  in genius and
 piety.   When he commenced his collegiate studies, he
 was not  serious; but,  during his terms,  he became the
 subject of a very extensive revival.   Before this  pe-
 riod, he  was incomparably the most  distinguished
 member of his class; and  it was conceded that he
 would take the highest academical honours.  He par-
 ticularly excelled in  mathematics and  philosophy; a
 knowledge of which  he acquired with great facility.
 After his conversion, his views  received a  different
 direction; and the attainment of honours ceased to be
 an object of pursuit, or desire.   Yet he always main-
 tained  a high position in  his class, and diligently pur-
 sued his studies, as  far as was  necessary to  obtain
 accurate  knowledge of the subjects,  without effort to
 recite  so  as  to  receive  the highest commendation.
 Newbold was not my  contemporary at Princeton Col-
 lege; but his collegiate history was as familiar  to the
 students  as household words.   Years have rolled by,
 and thousands of other  forms and scenes have arisen
 before  me since  that lovely spirit passed away;  yet,
 memory  calls  him  back to life,  and he now  stands
before me,  invested with almost living reality.  That
 manly  form,  that cordial grasp,  that child-like sim-
plicity of character—the invariable attendant on a truly
 noble mind—those soft and  touching tones  of suppli- 
JOHN S. NEWBOLD.
65
cation with which he led the devotions of others; that
calm, almost heavenly smile which indicated the pure,
benevolent, devotional spirit that dwrelt within!  Other
forms may fade beyond the power of recall, but this is
ineffaceable.  It is with great pleasure my unpretending
pen offers this humble tribute to the memory of one,
who always, as he grasped my hand, called me brother.
He was comparatively unknown to fame—having died
in the early morning of life, and before he commenced
to discharge the duties of the profession  to which  he
had  devoted  his powers.  Possessing a  strong mind,
correct  taste, and  laborious habits,  had  his life been
prolonged, he would have been one  of the most useful
men  of the  age.   Time did not  wait  to touch  his
person with the  decay of years; but used his  scythe
before he had attained  the vigour  of his intellect, or
the maturity of his manhood.   His friends, and the
Church,  expected  fruit from his prolonged life, and
useful labours.  In one sense  he did not die young;
because, that life  is long which accomplishes its great
end.  Men of piety, and men  of genius!  "Tread
lightly on his ashes—he was your kinsman."
   Newbold was remarkable for the union of genius,
great simplicity of character, and ardent piety which
seemed daily to increase:  thus indicating—as was also
the  case  with Summerfield  and  Spenser—that the
body in wiiich the burning spirit dwelt, was  rapidly
tending to  dissolution,  and that another bright star
would soon shine in heaven.  He was a contemporary
of Sylvester Lamed, at the Princeton Theological Semi-
nary; who, like him,  met the fate so common to those 
66
JOHN S. NEWBOLD.
who possess  goodness  and  genius—an early grave.
But the contrast  between these highly gifted men was
very striking.   Newbold was all meekness and gentle-
ness; and would have  offered  to men the winning
invitations of  divine mercy.  The character of Lamed
was bold and  daring; and he presented to his hearers
the denunciations  of coming judgment.    Newbold
had more of  the true character of genius—the power
of conducting intricate analysis, and investigating ab-
stract science.  Larned arrested attention by the manly
eloquence with which he  was able to invest any sub-
ject with importance.   Newbold was tall and  well
proportioned,  and exceedingly modest in his carriage.
Larned  wTas the finest specimen of man I  ever knew
—his  form cast  in  the  most perfect mould; his face
chiseled without a fault; his eye of  a piercing bright-
ness; his spirit without fear.  Had a  maniac approach-
ed Newbold with a drawn dagger, he would have been
disarmed by  the almost  heavenly   mildness of  his
countenance,  and his gentle bearing. When a luna-
tic once  met Larned alone in the  fields, and  stood
before him with uplifted weapon, he bared his bosom,
and, fixing his eye upon him, told him to strike.  The
maniac  looked in  his face,  and his aim  fell, by his
side.
  Newbold had  determined on going to Persia, as  a
missionary; and  would have been a worthy successor
to Martyn, who  left the  Persian  and  Hisdoostanee
Scriptures as  an enduring monument to  his energy,
and  his genius.   The character of Newbold  emi-
nently qualified  him to occupy that field  of labour. 
JOHN S. NEWBOLD.
67
 Like David, he had it in his heart to execute a work:
 it did not please his Master  to allow the  servant
 to accomplish his desires.  He offered himself a living
 sacrifice upon the altar:  the fire was sent down to con-
 sume the victim, and then conveyed  the spirit  back to
 heaven.
   Jonah  thought he did well to be angry when  his
 gourd prematurely withered.   But friends should not
 repine,  when  Christians are early taken away from
 the  "evil to  come."  It  was beautifully said by  an
 ancient sage, They whom the gods love, die  young.
 The reason of this  was obscure to the heathen philo-
 sopher: it is  made  plain  by  the light of Revelation.
 Why should the gentle, the pure, the lovely, be long
 detained  in a world where every passing storm rocks
 the tenement;  every inbred corruption pains the heart;
 every view of human misery sickens the sensibilities?
 The rude blast withers  the tender flower: let  it then
 be transplanted to its native clime.   The most beauti-
 ful  tree of the  woods  has  often a concealed worm
 preying upon its heart.  Birds that sing sweetest, do
 not live longest.  The swan, as he gently swims over
 the  bosom of the lake,  pours  forth his  softest notes
-when near his dying hour.  So, the Christian, whose
 soul has been tuned to the music of heaven, departs
 early, that he may  join  the choir  composed of the
 "general assembly and Church  of the first born." 
 
AMERICAN LITERATURE.
  Human nature  does not change with passing ages;
and the question, Can any  good thing come out of
Nazareth? is  asked now, as it was eighteen hundred
years ago.  A prophet is not without honour, save in
his own country, is a truth, the confirmation of which
we daily witness.   Who has not observed the magic of
a name?  The mass of mankind admire a beautiful
painting, if it  be the acknowledged work of a master
whose pencil confers immortality.  The same painting,
if ascribed to  an  inferior artist, would  be divested of
half its beauties, except to those who are skilled in the
art.   Who reads an American book?  tauntingly asked
a proud Briton.  Englishmen think  more favorably of
us now, than they did when this question was asked.
At the  meeting of the British Association for the pro-
motion of Science, held at Manchester, in June, 1842,
Sir John  Herschel—referring  to Mr. Schoolcraft, an
American geographer, who had communicated to the
Geographical  Society of London a series of observa-
tions on the Lakes of America—said, "It is impossible
for me here to allude to any  member of the United
States, with reference  to  matters by which  the least
national feeling is awakened, without paying a tribute
       7 
70
AMERICAN LITERATURE.
 to  the  high estimation in wiiich science is certainly
 held  by that great and rising country.   In every de-
 partment of science, especially  those  wiiich  receive
 their impulse  from Europe, they appear to  take so
 warm an interest and part, that they may be regarded,
 in that sense at least, as more completely our brethren
 than formerly.   I pay this humble tribute to the scien-
 tific ardour of our American  brethren; and I hope that
 they will perceive there is a  feeling prevalent amongst
 the scientific men, and amongst all classes, of Great
 Britain,  which, we trust, will  draw closer the ties of
 brotherhood between the tw^o countries."
  But we cannot expect  entire liberality, towards our
 literary  men,  on that side of the "big pond."  Na-
 tional jealousy will cause Englishmen to depreciate our
 literature, as they did our seamanship until they were
 taught that, gun  for gun,  and man for man, the proud
 lion-flag of old  England  was  humbled beneath  the
 stripes and stars.   No American  would admit that he
 failed to appreciate a wTork because it wTas of American
 origin; but, although  his pride of country reject the
 admission, it does not follow that  he has disproved the
 secret existence  of what he  so indignantly disclaims.
 Encouragement and protection are terms unknoAvn, as
 applied to American literature.
  I confess anxiety to see the elevation of  our national
literature: and I believe the time will come when our
country,  in this, as in other departments of a nation's
glory, will occupy a proud position.  Why should the
authors of England be superior to those of our coun-
try? We have  the same blood in our veins; we derive 
AMERICAN LITERATURE.
71
our mental cultivation from the same immortal works.
Is there any thing Boeotian in the nature of our climate
to make "genius  sicken  and fancy die?"  Authorship
is a business in England; and writers pass their lives in
the production of works which procure bread and im-
mortality.  Macaulay receives five  hundred dollars for
one of his articles in the  Edinburgh Review.  In this
country, men who feel the immortal energies of genius
kindling within them, might starve on the product of
literary  labour.   Hence, they do not aim to attain high
literary  excellence; but employ their time in felling
the oaks of our  mighty  forests, and cultivating  the
bountiful soil;  or, in the pursuits  of commerce, they
spread our canvass on the bosom of every sea, and furl
it in the ports of every land.   We  have  statesmen and
orators,  of the present day,  equal  to any others that
now  live;  and, with the  same cultivation,  perhaps
Patrick Henry would have surpassed his great contem-
poraries, Chatham and  Burke.  Our men of genius
become statesmen  and orators, because the nature of
our institutions developes talents of  that  order.   When
our people will consent to wear American cloths and
silks, our manufactures  may rival those  of England
and France.   American artisans,  with sufficient  en-
couragement,  would soon equal those of Birmingham
and Sheffield.  I deny that Englishmen are  superior
to Americans in genius; and  I have no objection to
compare our  soldiers, our sailors,  our manufacturers,
our machinists, our agriculturists,  our statesmen,  our
orators, with  those of England.   The  name of an
American occupies the proudest position on the page of 
72           AMERICAN LITERATURE.
history.   Hannibal was the  greatest  soldier  that ever
lived; but Washington was never conquered at Cannsc.
A Chief Justice of the United States has left a repu-
tation, unsurpassed by that of any man who ever wore
the  ermine.   It is thought, by competent judges, that
America has produced a metaphysician equal to any
other of any  age of  the  world.  Who taught the
Englishman to draw  down the forked lightning from
heaven,  and cause it to play harmlessly by his side?
Who gave to the world the application of that mighty
agent which now regulates  the  intercourse and com-
merce of nations? Who invented the machinery which
has proved such an incalculable blessing to the poor,
by  reducing, ten-fold, the price of cotton fabrics?  In
the  two wars with Great Britain, as well  as under
other circumstances, Americans have proved themselves
equal to all emergencies with  any competitors; and,
when hardly pressed, have shewn, even in the infancy
of political existence, the strength of a giant.   It would
never have been supposed that the infant Hercules had
the power to strangle the two serpents, had not the trial
been offered by the jealousy of Juno.  In like man-
ner, the sleeping, yet giant-like energies of our manu-
facturers and mechanics, can only be called into action
by the encouragement of competition with  the older
nations of Europe.
  Englishmen write better books than Americans, for
the  same reason that they make better cutlery and
cloths:  they receive  compensation  for  labour.   No
man, who is dependent on  his labour for bread, will
devote his  talents to literature, unless he can look for- 
             AMERICAN LITERATURE.          73
ward to the prospect of honourable support, in connec-
tion with a life of literary toil.   The literary man, the
man wiio acquires, but docs not  produce—so beauti-
fully compared, by the elder D'Israeli, to the streams
that flow under ground, and contribute to  supply and
swell the lake, themselves unseen  and  unknown—
may exist in any country, if he have leisure, and the
means to  indulge his tastes.   But the author is made
of different  materials;  and something  more exciting,
more propelling, is required  for authorship.  Genius
alone will not make authors, for the same reason that
a rich virgin-soil will not, without cultivation, produce
a harvest.  And, as every product of the soil requires
its  appropriate  culture to  ensure a reward for the
labour of the cultivator, so with the  human  mind.
The Poet forms  no  exception to  the general  rule,
although the remark of Horace be true, Poeta  nasci-
tur, non fit.  Burns cultivated his poetic genius as he
followed the plough;  or when he  lay on a mass of
straw in his barn-yard, and, looking on a planet  in the
clear, starry  sky, composed that  noblest of all his
lyrics,  "To  Mary in Heaven."  Hogg cultivated his
genius as he watched  his flocks on  the banks  of the
Ettrick; or became familiar with the  scenes and le-
gends  of  the hills and valleys  of  Scotland.   The
Oneida Chief displayed a genius for oratory when he
said, "When Jesus Christ came into the world, he
threw  his  blanket around him, but the  God was
within."  So, the Moslem General who  exclaimed
to the  army, dismayed and confused by the fall of
their Commander  in  the midst of battle, "What if
       7# 
74
AMERICAN LITERATURE.
Derar  be dead?  God still  lives  and  beholds  you:
March."  Here was natural eloquence, cultivated by the
scenes amidst which they had  lived.  We cannot ex-
pect to  find the same cultivation and produce in the
immense valley of the Mississippi, acre for acre, as we
find in England, which has been made a fruitful  gar-
den by the labour of a thousand  years.   We must
wait for our population to increase, until every "rood
of ground maintains its man."   It is by a similar argu-
ment I wish to defend  American  genius from  the
charge of inferiority.
   I will take another view of this subject.  The su-
premacy of English genius existed in the Elizabethan
Era;  and  England  has not  produced an equal to
Shakspeare, since the death of the immortal bard of
Avon.   Englishmen  live on the reputation of a  few
names, as some men wish to preserve a character for
virtue by reference to former  actions.   They refer
to Milton, Newton, Shakspeare, Bacon, as evidences of
their intellectual  superiority as  a nation.  And  are
they not also our  countrymen;  descended from  the
same  Anglo-Saxon race?  Did the fact, that religious
persecution  drove  Englishmen  to  America, change
their  nature?   It  is a  weakness  in  Englishmen to
attempt to  depreciate  the genius of America.  Intel-
lect is not confined to any country.  Africa has pro-
duced a Hannibal  and  a  Terence, and Portugal  a
Camoens.  The civil, political, and religious institu-
tions under which  a  people live, control their genius.
The germ does  not swell, and  bud, and blossom,  un-
less it receive the refreshing  rain and  the warming 
            AMERICAN  LITERATURE.           75
sun. "'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more."  And
why?  Let history answer.   The modern Greek  lives
in the  country of Homer and  Plato; but the burning
lava, from the volcanoes of despotism, has overflowed
the land, and withered all that is noble in his nature.
Where  are  the  countrymen of Virgil,  of Dante, of
Ariosto, of Tasso?  They dwell on  the same sunny
plains of Italy; but the heavy yoke of the tyrant has
crushed their noble aspirations, and bowed them down
to the dust.
   In the  writings of the present day, we want the
unfolding of deep and absorbing passion: the concen-
tration of  power, which, although it belongs to excited
virtue, is not denied to despairing guilt: that highest
effort of the mind of man, when he puts forth all hia
energies in one grand conception.   In this consists the
supremacy of Shakspeare.  In his writings, the gentle
flow of the river fills our imagination with images of
beauty; and, before wre are aware  of the change, the
swollen and impetuous torrent rushes on to the ocean.
Lady Macbeth exhibits the dark and terrific passions
of human nature; and, as we read the description, we
see her standing  before  us with  her  extended  and
blood-stained hand, exclaiming, "Out, damned spot!"
There  is nature in the poetry of Sappho, and in the
burning words of  the Abelard and Heloise; and, with-
out following her guidance, no writer could adequately
describe the  first consciousness of love—the turning of
the wrarm affections into  a channel where  they had
never  before flowed—the  first-born  offspring of the
heart of man.  If a writer wish to portray scenes 
76
AMERICAN LITERATURE.
wiiich prove that, while virtue is its own reward, vice
is its own punishment, he must learn, from the obser-
vation of life, that the hours of revelry, the place of
business, the closet, or the crowded hall, do not banish
the one thought from the mind of the guilty; that the
dying groan of the murdered, the despairing cry of the
violated, are ever present with the perpetrator of dark
and damning crimes, denying all rest to his troubled
spirit.   Genius  and talent are not the exclusive birth-
right of any nation.   Wherever found, their tendency
is to exalt our common nature, since they belong to no
clime and no country, but are the treasure of the hu-
man race.  The Great Father of us all is bountiful to
his children; and we are taught by a common origin,
common desires, and common destiny, that man is the
brother of man.  We all  depend on the same sun for
light, the same  air for breath:  hopes and fears,  joys
and sorrows, health and decay, are attendants on  our
journey; and we alike bow in submission to the same
irreversible destiny, "Earth  to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust." 
LORD BACON.
  The genius of Bacon  has been compared to the
tent  which "Paribanou, the faiiy, presented to Prince
Ahmed.   Fold it, and it seemed a toy for the hand of
a lady.  Spread it, and the armies of powerful Sultans
might  repose beneath its shade."  While he stood on
an eminence, and extended his view  over the  great
ocean of knowledge, his attention was attracted by the
pebbles that were  scattered along the shore.   He was
the most profound thinker and accomplished orator of
his age—unequalled for closeness and vigour of style,
and richness of fancy.  It has been well said  of him,
that, with great minuteness of observation, he had an
amplitude of  comprehension, such as  has never yet
been bestowed on any other human being.
  Bacon is  the  father of Experimental  Philosophy.
Aristotle lived almost  two thousand  years  before this
Prince of Philosophers appeared.  The Stagirite wished
to establish the same dominion over the minds of men,
which  his illustrious pupil  Alexander desired to estab-
lish  over nations.   The master was more successful
than the pupil.   The philosophy of Aristotle continued
to direct the intellect of the world, long after  the em-
pire of the son of  Philip had gone  down in darkness. 
78
LORD BACON.
Plato taught his philosophy in the groves of Academus.
Their systems triumphed at Rome,  and at Athens, in
the age of their founders.   Four hundred years later,
they were  the systems of the illustrious men of the
Augustan period; and they prevailed during the dark-
ness of the Middle Ages.   The essence of this  philo-
sophy was the inculcation of the  abstract beauty of
virtue; but, it did not devise the plans by which men
might become  virtuous and happy.    Its principles
could not sustain  Cicero,  with dignity,  during his
banishment from Rome; and Cato—after having read
the treatise of Plato on the immortality of the soul—
fell upon his sword, that he might not be compelled to
wear the chains which Caesar had forged for him, and
for his  country.  In  all their  arguments, its teachers
aimed at victory over disputants;  and they thought
philosophy would  be disgraced by  attempting  any
practical improvement, wiiich had reference to the hap-
piness of their species.  They invented syllogisms, by
the use of which confusion became worse confounded;
and the  schoolmen supposed they wrere well employed,
when they disputed how many angels could dance on
the point of a needle.  They  endeavoured to prove
that pain, and  exile,  and poverty  were not evils; but
they could not destroy their own senses, nor the senses
of their  disciples;  and mankind were left to mourn
under accumulated  miseries, without  the  attention of
philosophy being directed to the discovery of the means
by wiiich they might be  avoided,  or relieved.  The
Church did not escape the influence of the prevailing
systems.  Scholastic theology went, hand in hand, with 
                   LORD BACON.                 7g
scholastic philosophy—a knowledge of which the records
of the period have transmitted to our age.   Bacon de-
scribes this celebrated philosophy by saying, "It ended
in nothing but disputation; it was  neither a vineyard,
nor an olive ground; but an intricate wood of briers and
thistles, from  which  those who lost themselves  in it
brought back many scratches and no food."
  Such was, essentially, the condition of  philosophy,
until  the  memorable events of the sixteenth  centuiy
produced a revolution in the intellectual world.  The
effects of that  revolution are  felt  at the present day,
and will extend to the end of time.   The giant, Mixd,
then burst the  chains with which  he had  been bound
for ages; and, having tasted  the  blessing of liberty,
will  forever continue to "walk abroad in his own ma-
jesty."  It wrould be as easy to place the  shoulders to
the orb of the rolling sun, and push him back  into
night, as  now  to arrest  the progress of  philosophy.
The  Refonnation  was the most  remarkable  of the
events of that  period: and, by the action of untram-
melled genius, the  mists of scholastic philosophy and
scholastic  theology were dispersed, like the  thick
vapours of night before the risen  sun.  The  highest
use  of  the revival of philosophy—said Erasmus, the
most  accomplished scholar of the  age—will be to dis-
cover, in the Bible, the simple and pure Christianity.
Bacon said that  a  little, or superficial  knowledge  of
philosophy  may incline  the mind of man to atheism;
but,  when properly understood, as a man passes on,
and  sees the dependence of causes and the  works of
Providence, philosophy produces veneration for God, 
80
LORD BACON.
and  renders faith in him the ruling  passion  of life.
Thus the  ancient order was  unsettled; the dogmas of
the schoolmen were overthrown;  and  the anarchy of
the  intellectual  world  invited  the  action of  some
master spirit, to reduce chaos into order.
  Such were  the circumstances under which  Bacon,
the High  Priest of Philosophy,  appeared.   When a
boy, he was not delighted with the sports of children; but
separated himself from  his youthful companions, that
he might discover the cause of an echo, and meditate
upon the laws of the imagination.  At the early age
of sixteen, when he departed from Cambridge, he had
an  unconcealed contempt for Aristotle  and  his fol-
lowers;*  and, it  has been said, that  he then  had a
glimpse of the mighty intellectual revolution  he was
destined  to accomplish.   Such remarks  on the life of
mind must be received with due allowance,  as they
have been  made  of  many great men.   Thus—accord-
ing to an anecdote, told by himself at  the age of four-
score—Warren Hastings also afforded  an instance  of
the early formation of  a scheme, which was  never
abandoned  during  his  subsequent life of  glory and
disgrace.   When seven years old, as  he reclined on
  * The Aristotelian philosophy substituted words for things.  Aris-
totle taught that there were four modes by which all things in nature
must exist: the materialiter, or material cause, ex qua, out of which
things are made;  the formaliter, or formal cause, per quam, by which
a thing is that which it is, and nothing else; the fundamtaliter, or
the efficient cause, a qua, by the agency of which any thing is pro-
duced; and the eminenter, or final cause, propter quam, the  end for
which it is produced.  Such was the philosophy which long reigned
in the schools, and was regarded as the perfect  model of all imita-
tion. 
LORD BACON.
81
the bank of a rivulet that flowed through  the old
domain which had  once belonged to his ancestors, he
resolved that he would restore Daylesford to his family.
Stimulated by this never-dying  ambition, he passed in
India forty  years of a life stained by the murder of
Nuncomar, the capture of Benares, and the oppression
of the Princesses of Oude; and  returned to  die at
Daylesford,  the possessor of the estate his fathers had
lost.   From this early  period  of the life of Bacon,
common sense, and the desire to accomplish what was
useful, were  predominant in  his character: and he
united—a  combination so  rare—minute  observation
with great comprehension.  Without these  qualities,
even his great genius would not have enabled him, at
the close of three centuries, to exercise  predominant
influence over the minds of his  race.   He  says of
himself that his desire was to  be  engaged "in indus-
trious observations,  grounded conclusions, and profit-
able inventions, and discoveries."  He did not seek to
excite surprise by his efforts, but  to  produce "fruit."
He did not aim  to display what was brilliant, but to
discover  what was  useful and true;  and possessed,
perhaps, the most common-sense mind  the world has
ever produced.  He says, "I have taken all knowledge
to be my province."  Instead of indulging visions of
what men might obtain by the sublimations of a false
philosophy, he considered them in their true nature,
and endeavoured to promote their usefulness, and con-
sequent  happiness.   Hume says he was, A man uni-
versally admired  for  the greatness of his genius, and
8 
82
LORD BACON.
 beloved  for the courteousness  and humanity  of his
 behaviour—the great ornament  of his age and nation.
   The Essays of Bacon are the portion of his writings
 best known to the popular mind.   They discuss sub-
jects relating to the interests,  and adapted to the com-
 prehension of the multitude; and, if he had  written
 nothing else, they would have made his name immortal.
 Dugald Stewart calls them, "The best known and the
 most popular of all his works, where the superiority of
 his genius appears to the greatest advantage; the novelty
 and depth of his reflections often receiving a  strong
relief from the triteness of the subject.   The volume
may be read  in a few hours;  and yet, after the twen-
tieth perusal,  one seldom fails to remark in it something
 overlooked before.   This, indeed, is a characteristic of
 all Bacon's writings; and is only to be accounted for
by the inexhaustible  aliment they furnish  to our own
thoughts, and the sympathetic activity  they impart to
our torpid faculties."  But, it is by his more strictly
philosophical writings that he has erected an imperish-
able monument to his name.  He is not the inventor
of the Inductive Method, by which we  are taught that
observation and experiment are the only true guides to
the formation of just theories.  Reasoning by induc-
tion has been performed by men ever since their crea-
tion; and the method had been analyzed, and its history
written, long  before his time.  But, in his great work,
he explained the uses of the inductive process; and
thus called attention to  its employment, by which a
direction was given to the human mind which has re-
mained for ages. 
LORD BACON.
83
   Shakspeare and  Galileo were  contemporaries of
Bacon;  and  their names  will alike descend, with
reverence, to the most distant ages of civilized  man.
Bacon has claims, beyond the other two, to the beauti-
ful eulogy bestowed on the "High Priest of the Stars."
"The noblest eye," says father  Castelli, speaking of
the blindness of Galileo,  "The noblest  eye  which
nature ever made, is darkened; an  eye so privileged,
and gifted with such rare powers, that it may be truly
said to have seen more than the eyes of all that are
gone; and to  have opened  the eyes of all that  are to
come."   Bacon said of himself, "For  my name and
memory,  I leave it  to  men's  charitable speeches,
and to foreign nations, and to the next age."  Thus,
with  a  proud  consciousness of his  genius, he, who
called himself  "the servant of posterity," appealed to
future ages for the just appreciation of his works; and
posterity has  nobly repaid the confidence, by placing
him in the constellation composed of two ancient, and
seven modern names.
   An English  poet  has placed Bacon  on an emi
nence, like that which  the  Jewish Lawgiver occu-
pied on the mountain of Nebo.  From that position,
the Prophet  looked back  to the wilderness  in which,
during  forty years,  be  had   wandered   with his
people;  and  surveyed  before him the land of pro-
mise, flowing with milk and honey.   So, from the
proud elevation which  he  had  attained, we may
suppose the  Philosopher to have looked  back on the
intellectual  wilderness  of   two  thousand  years.   It
might be deemed an extravagant  supposition, that he 
84                 LORD BACON.
comprehended the true nature of the glorious land of
promise which lay before him—to  which men would
be guided by the light of his genius.  But we find, in
his writings, these remarkable sentences: "I have held
up a light in the  obscurity of philosophy, which  will
be seen centuries after I am  dead.  It will be seen
amidst the erection of temples, tombs, palaces, theatres,
bridges; making noble roads, cutting canals, granting
multitudes of charters, the foundation of colleges and
lectures for learning, and  the education of youth; the
foundations  and institutions of orders and fraternities
for enterprise and obedience; but, above all, the estab-
lishing good laws  for the regulation of the kingdom,
and as an example  to the world."   If he could now
re-appear upon earth, he would witness the  fulfilment
of these predictions.  The influence of the Inductive
Philosophy  has led to the discovery of machinery in
the various  mechanic arts.   Two  hundred  and fifty
years ago, he held up a  light in  the  obscurity of
philosophy;  and we may almost believe that, when he
predicted it would  be  seen  amidst the "making noble
roads, and cutting canals," he foresaw that  continents
would be  intersected by Rail  Roads; and that  steam
would propel mighty ships over every sea, independent
of the tides and  winds, by the  action of which the
commerce and intercourse of nations was then main-
tained.  Did not Cowley justly compare  Bacon to
Moses standing on Mount Pisgah?  He has claims to
the character bestowed on him by the bard of Twick-
enham, The wisest, brightest of mankind. 
WOMAN AS A MISSIONARY
  The American Board of Commissioners for Foreign
Missions having sent out, from Boston, missionaries to
Siani—a part of the mission consisting of the wives of
the clergymen—a New York paper published a list of
the missionaries,  and  commented  on the cruelty of
taking delicate women to die with pestilential diseases
in barbarous lands, and find a grave in the sands of the
desert.  The writer assumes that the sole use of the
wife is as a "special comfort"  to the missionary; and
then indulges in severe remarks against the selfishness
©f those who feel it a duty to preach the mild and be-
nevolent principles of Christianity to  heathen nations.
  The assumption of the writer—that woman, as a
missionary,  acts only a negative part—is not true.   If
true, it would not prove that her self-sacrifice was use-
less.  Suppose a  missionary  lives longer, and labours
more energetically and efficiently,  by  having  kind
woman to  commune with him  when fatigued with
arduous toil, or discouraged by opposition; to solace
and relieve him when burning with fever, or tortured
with  pain?  Is not  the  increased amount of good ef-
fected, instrumentally, her work? Had Henry Martyn
heen thus attended, he might not have closed his career
       8* 
%
WOMAN AS A MISSIONARY
so soon  as  he did, wiien  he sat under a tree  in an
orchard  at  Tocat, and "thought of God" and died.
And, surely, no  one will say that a  Christian woman
had lived in vain, had  she been the instrument of pro-
longing  the continuance, above  the  horizon, of that
glorious  missionary  star, whose reflected light still
shines on the idolatrous plains  of Asia.   When  the
Author of missions sent out his  Apostles, he did  not
require them to go alone.  He well knew what human
nature demanded—the advantages of  companionship—
and  sent them by two and two.  What wras  essential
to an Apostle then, is  no less essential to a missionary
now.
   But the position of woman at  missionary stations is
far from being negative.  Education is the handmaid
to religion.   The adult heathen is too strongly wedded
to the customs and  institutions  of his fathers,  to be
easily  won to  the faith and practice of the Christian.
His  caste must  be  abandoned;  his licentious indul-
gences restrained; all the associations of his former life
severed.  In a word, he must be changed from that
inveterate corruption of the Gentile world, so forcibly
described by Paul in the first chapter of Romans.   If
the children can be collected into schools, they may
receive the light of civilization, and be taught the doc-
trines  of the Bible.   Is not the mother, in  civilized
lands, more  successful  in teaching the child,  than the
father? And the mild, and forbearing, and gentle, and
loving nature of woman, gives her the best  qualifica-
tions for  instilling into the minds of  heathen  children,
the principles of that religion whose essence is love. 
            WOMAN AS A MISSIONARY.          87
  The practice of the Apostles cannot be adduced as
an example for the modern missionaiy.   The circum-
stances  of  the world are essentially different.   Then,
all was pagan, except the Jewish community—at that
time more hostile than the heathen nations to the newr
system:  and the Apostles were driven from city to city,
reviled,  persecuted, stoned:  evincing the sincerity of
their belief in  the doctrines they taught, amidst the
fagot and the flame.   But now, Christian nations send
missionaries to stations among the heathen, with the
expectation that they will pass their lives amidst the
terror of the  climate they have  braved, and  lay  their
bones beneath the sands  of the sultry deserts.  Under
such  circumstances—having  a  settled  home—why
should they be forbidden to indulge the tender charities
of husband and father?
  The writer of the article says he is tired of reading
accounts of the death of our  country-women in Asia
and Africa.  But is he  tired  of reading accounts of
pagan rites and  superstitions—of infanticide—of the
immolation of widows on the funeral pyre of husbands
—of the deplorable degradation  into  which heathen
lands are irredeemably plunged, unless they are raised
by  the  arm of Christian benevolence?   If  woman's
nature be so gentle, and her frame so delicate, that she
must not be allowed to endure privation  and suffering
in attempts to enlighten the benighted, she was not the
proper subject, in the early days of Christianity, to die
a martyr's  death, in order to witness a martyr's faith:
and this writer would have  had her to deny her risen
Lord, that  she might escape the torturing rack and the 
88          WOMAN AS A MISSIONARY.
consuming flame.  Read the history of the ten  perse-
cutions, and you will find woman "mighty to suffer"—
the gentleness and delicacy of her nature being sup-
ported by the principle within her: thus giving a glori-
ous illustration of the sincerity of the faith by  which
she lived, and for which she died.  I shall never forget
a remark made by the venerable Dr. Green to  his class
at Princeton:  "You may never be called to die  at the
stake: but, unless you have the spirit of a martyr, you
are no Christian."   Had not  woman been enabled to
die, sooner than renounce her faith, much of the glori-
ous light of martyrdom had  never  shined:  much of
the blood that has watered trie tree, the leaves of  wiiich
are for the healing of the nations, had never flowed.
   Who is so much indebted to Christianity as woman?
It found her, not the companion of man, but his slave.
The so much boasted philosophy of the ancient world
did not essentially improve her condition.  And, up to
this hour, whether you  trace her  history amidst the
darkness and superstitions of  India—in  the islands of
the sea—with the Osmanlee—among the red men of
the forest, or the African tribes, you  find her debased
below the men of her country.  But the light of  Chris-
tianity arose upon the nations, and her condition was
changed.  And, as if to show the connexion  between
the position of woman, and the existing state of  Chris-
tianity, the same enthusiastic age which sent the Cru-
sader to prove the sincerity of his faith by attempts to
rescue the Holy Sepulchre from  the possession  of the
Infidel, saw the knight throw down his glove, and
assert the superiority  of his "Ladye-faire"  amidst the 
WOMAN AS A MISSIONARY.          89
splendid pageantries of the tournament.  With Chris-
tian man,  woman is not the slave of his passions, but
the mother of his children—the sharer of  his sorrows
and his joys—his fellow-traveller to the same happy
and eternal home.  And shall she be prevented from
labouring  for the  extension of that system which has
done  so much for her?  On  the  introduction of evil
into  the world, "woman being deceived,  was in the
transgression."   Let her then be allowed to aid  in
spreading  that light which alone can scatter the dark-
ness herself has caused.
   When the  Saviour hung upon the cross,  woman did
not forsake him in that hour of agony and death.  On
the morning  of the third day, when it was yet dark,
she hastened to the sepulchre, and complained  they
had taken away her Lord, and she did not know where
they had laid him.  The disciples came, and departed;
but woman remained, and stood without the sepulchre,
weeping.   When asked by the  two angels why she
wept,  she reiterated the complaint, "They have taken
away my  Lord, and I know not where they have laid
him." When interrogated again, "Why weepest thou?"
she replied, "If thou  hast borne  him hence, tell me
where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away."
The sincerity, and the urgency of her sorrow were  re-
warded by receiving, from the Master himself, the an-
nunciation that he had arisen.  And such  will always
be the character of woman,
         "Last at his cross, and earliest at his grave." 
 
CHEVELEY; OR, THE MAN OF HONOUR.
  Lady Bulwer has succeeded in producing a work
of some literary pretension, and of most  abominable.
morality.   I am not aware that she has ever before ap-
peared as an authoress.   If she have not  written, she
has thought; and that is the best preparation for writing.
Many  of the characters are Well  drawn:  and, as she
has evidently designed  to  give a  picture  of the self-
styled  lords of creation as little favourable as possible,
she has succeeded in that of Lord de Clifford.   Many
passages might be quoted  which  would  do  credit to
Bulwer himself:  indeed, they sometimes  remind the
reader  of the author of Eugene Aram.  I will select
one or two:
  "There  are feelings on  the mysterious altars of the
human heart, so subtle, so holy, so impalpably delicate,
that the realities which rivet, destroy them,  like the
fairy hues on some rare flowers; too beautiful  to last,
they perish at the touch."
  "Beautiful Naples! whose sapphire waves flow on
in music, and whose flower-heathed air  laughs out in
sunshine, as if primeval Eden's youth still lingered on
thy shores, mocking at sin and time! Beautiful Naples!
Venus of cities rising from the sea—begirt  with beauty 
92                  CHEVELEY.
like a zone, and diademed with  palaces! Shall I ever
again behold you? No—never at least as I beheld you
once; for, to the winter of the heart,  no second spring
succeeds."
  "Memory is the conscience of love;  and from the
moment we leave what we love, its murmurs allow us
no peace."
  It would not be difficult to select other passages.
  Criticism does not consist, alone, in finding faults to
condemn.   Its more delightful  and  legitimate task  is
to unfold  beauties  to  admire: and a true critic will
rather desire to dwell on excellencies, than imperfec-
tions.  I regret that this last part has been performed
;n wiiat has been already  said.   Any further remarks
must be those of unqualified  condemnation.
  It is lamentable that genius is so often prostituted to
corrupt the taste and morals of  society.  This is too
frequently the fact with the writers of novels: perhaps
more so in  the  days of Fielding  and  Smollett, than
in our own.  Public  opinion must  correct the evil.
Whether there will be more, or fewer  novels written
when that correction takes place, might admit of dis-
cussion.  The friends of theatres have sometimes said
that plays,  as  moral  as  sermons, might be written.
True: but  when only such  plays are  acted, theatres
will be  deserted.   Sermons can be  heard elsewhere,
and in more appropriate places.
  I shall not enter upon an  extended examination of
Cheveley:  nor instance the examples of bad taste
which  its pages would furnish.   On the  work, as  a
whole, I will remark, that it affords  conclusive  proof, 
CHEVELEY.
93
that  Bulwer  must have  had  strong inducements  to
separate from a woman who could entertain, and pub-
lish to the world, such sentiments.   It is probable the
keenness of invective, the distortion  of  portraiture  in
this work, arose from wrongs she supposed she had
suffered.   But I presume Bulwer is not  so wretched a
character as Lord de Clifford; nor Lady  Bulwer quite
so good as she paints Lady Julia.
  Julia was  young  and possessed of great personal
attractions, but poor.   Lord de Clifford meets with her,
and, attracted by her charms, proposes; and she is per-
suaded to marry him.  As is  always the case with
marriages, without  any congeniality of character,  or
true love on either side, she soon loses all attraction for
him.   She endeavours, by kindness and  gentleness, to
win him back, and retain him.   Having failed in this,
she meets with  Mowbray—afterwards Cheveley—the
very man to excite every dormant passion of her ardent
nature.   After various struggles with a  sense of pro-
priety, and every better feeling, a mutual disclosure
takes place.  The opportune  occurrence of Lord  de
Clifford's death makes her Lady Cheveley.
   The doctrine of Cheveley is, if  a  woman marry a
man who is  unkind  to her, and who does not recipro-
cate  those blandishments  which she knows so well
how to lavish, she is free  to bestow her heart upon
another.   And the man is styled, emphatically,  "The
Man of Honour," who wins, and retains the affections
of a married  woman.  I should not  be  so much sur-
prised to find this view inculcated by one of our sex:
but, that a woman  should  teach such enonnity " 'tis
       9 
94
CHEVELEY.
passing strange, 'tis wondrous pitiful."   Lady Bulwer
may argue, as she appears to do in the second volume,
that no more restraint  should be placed, by public
opinion, upon the morality of women, than upon that
of men.  The prevalence of that doctrine would be
damning to  her sex.   Contrariety of temper, and un-
kindness, have been urged as good and sufficient reasons
for divorce; but never can, without the interposition of
law, release woman from the vows of her virgin heart.
What is the value of the casket after the jewel has been
stolen?  A woman cannot be required to love a husband
whose conduct towards her is brutal. "Nothing on com-
pulsion"—especially love.  Yet she  can banish  from
her presence the man who is stealing from her those
affections which, if she cannot bestow them upon her
husband, she ought to bury, while he lives, deep in her
own bosom.    When she married, she "staked her life
upon a cast:" having  consented to that, she must "stand
the hazard of the die."   Who  has not admired the
beautiful stanzas of Goldsmith, commencing  with,
When lovely woman stoops to folly,  in the Vicar of
Wakefield?  If the marriage of a woman prove unfor-
tunate, and the laws do not afford her relief, all  that
is  left for  her "is to die."  The lines  in Addison's
Cato may, with  peculiar force, be applied to a  mar-
ried woman:
       "When love once pleads admission to her heart,
       The woman that  deliberates, is lost."
  When Cleopatra wished to die, she applied  an asp
to  her  arm,  that the infusion of its poison might ac-
complish the object.  But  a serpent far more deadly 
CHEVELEY.
95
than that—as deadly as the  one which whispered in
the ear of  Eve amidst the bowers of Eden—instils its
poison into the very heart of a married woman, who
does not, cannot "love her lord," when she listens to
the impassioned tale of unhallowed love.   That lost
Eve the happiness of Paradise.   This wrests from
woman—like the  glorious works of art, lovely even
when in ruins—not only the joys  of earth, but the
hopes of heaven. 
 
THE DYING HOUR.
  A Philadelphia paper gives a sketch of an Address
delivered by a distinguished Citizen on,  "The Ruling
Passion," in which he uses the following language:
"The happiest thought in the last  hours of the dying
mother, is the hope that  she will  meet her offspring
hereafter: heaven would hardly be heaven to her with-
out that meeting."  No man can be more deeply im-
pressed, than  I  am, with profound  admiration  of the
deep devotedness of a mother's love.  The same Great
Creator wiio  teaches a  hen to gather her chickens
under her wings, lias implanted the love of offspring
as the pure, irresistible, unselfish passion of a mother's
nature.   Matilda, Queen of William the  Conqueror,
used  the following remarkable words: "If  my son
Robert were dead, and  hidden far from the sight of
the living, seven feet deep in the earth, and the price
of my blood could restore him to life,  I would cheer-
full v  bid it flow."  The distinguished lecturer and
myself cannot differ in opinion, as  to the all-absorbing-
character of a mother's love.   But I object to his esti-
mate  of the  happiest thought in the last  hours of a
dying mother: and to the opinion, that  heaven would
hardly be heaven, without meeting the  child there.
       9* 
98              THE DYING HOUR.
  A dying Christian  mother has thoughts  far more
important to occupy her mind, than the future meeting
with her children.   Anticipations of such a meeting
are appropriate, and would, no  doubt, be indulged in
that solemn hour.  But thoughts, far more important
than  these, would now  engage her attention.  She
would look back to her  condition by nature, and be
lost  in  contemplation of the  richness  of the grace
which saved her from the condemnation to which she
was exposed.  Her mind would  be employed in the
review of her  life—the turpitude of which  was  only
surpassed by the mercy which  condescended  to visit
her  wiio was  so undeserving.  And now,  in  her
departing hour, she would experience a joy  which no
earthly  relations or possessions could bestow; while,
filled with the present Deity, she anticipated the bless-
edness  of  that  heaven on which she was about to
enter.   When Dr. Payson was asked if, in his antici-
pations  of heaven, he thought of meeting friends, he
replied;  "If I meet Christ, it is no matter whether I
see others or not."  I cannot better express  my views
of the  thoughts that would occupy the mind of a
dying Christian, than by quoting some of the last re-
marks of Brainerd.   A few  days  before he  died, and
with an entire certainty of the  nearness of his depar-
ture, he exclaimed: "My heaven is  to please God, and
glorify him, and to give  all  to  him, and  to be wholly
devoted to his glory:  that is the  heaven I long for;  that
is my religion, and that  is my  happiness, and always
was ever since I suppose I had  any true religion;  and
all those who  are  of  that religion shall  meet me in 
THE DYING HOUR.
99
heaven.   It is impossible for any rational creature to
be happy without  acting all  for God: God himself
could not make him happy in any other wray.  I long
to be in heaven praising and glorifying  God with the
holy angels; all my desire is to glorify God.   My soul
breathes after God.  When shall I come to God,  even
to God my exceeding  joy? Oh! for  his blessed  like-
ness!   I am almost in eternity; I  long to be there.
My work is done; I have  done with all my friends; all
the world is nothing to me: I long  to  be in heaven,
praising and glorifying God, with all the holy angels.
All my desire is to glorify  God."
  If such be a correct view of the thoughts that  fill
the mind of the  dying  Christian, is it  true to say, in
the language of the lecturer, that the happiest thought
in the last hours of the dying mother, is the hope that
she will meet her offspring hereafter?   I am aware that
the Prophet asks, "Can a woman  forget her sucking
child, that she should not have compassion on the son
of her womb?"  But  in  that dread hour, the duties of
the mother have expired, and  the subject is about to
stand in the presence  of her Judge.
   The other part of the sentence of the distinguished
lecturer, is still more  objectionable; "Heaven would
hardly be heaven to her without that meeting."   Is it
not strange that, with the Bible in our hands, our  no-
tions  of what constitutes the  happiness of heaven,
should be so vague and unscriptural?   I shall not here
discuss the question,  Shall we recognise our friends
in  another world?  The solution  of that  question
has no important bearing on the point, in the discus- 
100             THE DYING HOUR.
sion of which we are now engaged.  I believe the re-
lations of father, mother, child,  with all their  attend-
ant affections, were designed for man in his social state.
I will not say they all expire when the social state is
dissolved by death; but I deny that they constitute a ma-
terial  part—I had almost said any part—of the happi-
ness of heaven.   Is not the love of offspring strongly
implanted in the brute  creation?   But, as soon as the
necessity for support and protection has passed, the pa-
rent and the  offspring mix together in the same herds
and flocks, without the  slightest  recognition.   But,
I repeat, I do not deny that we  shall know our friends
in the other world.  The belief in that opinion is com-
forting to  our nature.  Even if the  opinion  be not
true,  to disprove it  could answer no good purpose.
But will any man, with the  Bible in his hand, and the
experience of a Christian  in  his heart,  deliberately
say, "Heaven would  hardly be  heaven to a mother,
unless she meet her  offspring  there?"  What makes
heaven, even on earth, to  a Christian?  Is it  com-
munion with friends?   It is communion with  God.
He retires from  the observation and presence of  man;
he calls off his thoughts from all earthly objects, even
his dearest friends; he looks up to the great I Am, and
asks  that  the Holy Spirit  may come and  touch his
heart; he looks  upon the Saviour on the cross, and
with  bowed head, and broken heart, and flowing tears,
he prays, "God  be merciful to me  a sinner."   And
then  the  Spirit  comes, and he is filled  with a joy
 which no language can describe—no mind, without
 experience, can conceive.   "Or ever I was aware, my 
THE DYING HOUR.
101
soul made  me  like  the  chariots of  Amminadab."
What makes the joy of the Christian "in the day of his
espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart"?
It has no  connexion with  the presence or existence of
friends;  but it  is the first-born  emotion of the soul
which gives a foretaste of heaven.
  If the  happiness  of  heaven  consist  in meeting
with children there, in  what does  it consist with  a
Christian woman wrho is not a mother?   Are there two
heavens?  Are  there  two  distinct sources of happiness
in the same heaven?  God is the  Sun of that system,
and  the shining of his countenance constitutes, alike,
the  happiness  of  all.   Even  in this world, a  high
degree of  religious enjoyment produces almost  an in-
sensibility to impressions  from surrounding objects.
It may be objected that when the  Saviour  hung
upon the  cross in the agonies of death, he exclaimed,
"My God, my God,  why hast thou  forsaken me!"
But this desertion, in that hour of agony and  blood,
was a part of the  accomplishment of his mission.  I
believe that many a holy martyr has been measurably
unconscious of the torture of the rack, the tearing of
the pincers, or the  burning of the fagot, when his soul
has been filled by the presence of Him who walked in
the  midst of the  burning, fiery furnace, and whose
"form was like the Son of God."  How then can the
happiness of a glorified  spirit depend  on the presence
of any of the relations of this world?   Father, mother,
child, are  classifications  here;  but,  holy and unholy,
are the  classifications beyond the grave.   I  admit that
the Christian parent, in his hours of deepest devotion, 
10-2
THE DYING HOUR.
has an ardent desire for the conversion of his  child.
I would not eradicate all human emotions from human
bosoms.  I admire the conduct of David, who fasted,
and wept, and prayed while his child lived; but, when
told he was dead, he submitted to the will of heaven,
and arose, and wTashed, and ate; and when asked the
reason  of his  conduct, he replied, "Can  I  bring him
back again?   I shall go to him, but he shall not  return
to me."  I would allow free action to all the affections
which, in the social state, adorn our character; but let
it not be said, that  heaven would hardly be a place of
happiness to  a mother without her child.   What is
Paul's  description of heaven?   "But  ye are  come
unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God,
the heavenly  Jerusalem, and to an innumerable com-
pany of angels: To the General Assembly and Church
of the  first-born which are  written in heaven, and to
God the  Judge of  all, and  to the spirits of just men
made perfect, and  to Jesus  the Mediator of the New-
Covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaketh
better things than the blood  of Abel."
  David had  the  feelings  of a  father  when he ex-
claimed in agony, "O my  son Absalom, my son, my
son Absalom!  would God I  had died for thee, O Absa-
lom, my son, my son!" He had the emotions of a
friend  when  he said, "I am distressed for thee, my
brother Jonathan:  veiy pleasant hast thou been unto
me:  thy love  to me was wonderful;  passing the love
of women!"   As a king and father, he wept for Absa-
lom in the tents  of Israel; as a friend, he mourned
for Jonathan  on the mountains of Gilboa.  But will 
THE DYING HOUR.
103
any one say, that their presence in heaven was neces-
sary  to the happiness of the sweet singer of Israel?
Let  himself answer  the question:  "As  for  me,  I
will  behold  thy face  in righteousness:  I  shall be
satisfied, when I awake,  with  thy likeness." 
 
PHILIP SYNG PHYSICK.
  With the exception of Dr. Rush, no medical man
of this  country  has  died, whose departure  produced
such  deep sensation as that of the late Dr. Physick.
Occupying, during a long succession of years,  a pre-
eminent position in the most celebrated medical  school
of the  country; regarded as  the father of American
Surgery, and scarcely less distinguished as a physician,
his character, his talents, and his fame, became the pro-
perty of the profession  and of the nation.  Students
from  all parts of the countiy sought the University
which he adorned; and the victims of the  various dis-
eases which belong to our race, when other hopes had
failed, turned their steps  to the abode of this  distin-
guished man, with a devotion almost approaching that
which directs the Osmanlee to the tomb of the Prophet.
   Dr. Physick passed four years in Europe, engaged
in the completion of his medical education, and w^as a
favourite  pupil of the celebrated  Hunter;  the ines-
timable benefits  of the association to the  pupil being
repaid by the honour he conferred on the master.   He
returned to this country in 1792, settled in Philadelphia,
and took  a distinguished  part in the treatment of the
yellow fever which, in the following year, devastated
        10 
106
P. S. PHYSICK.
that city.  Enthusiastic devotion to his profession, with
favourable opportunities for the exercise of his talents,
gave him the character which,  in 1805, elevated him
to the chair of Surgery in the University  of Pennsyl-
vania.   It is not necessary for me to say with what
ability he  discharged  the duties of that situation.
When the  writer of this sketch pursued  his medical
studies in Philadelphia, Dr. Physick  had  been trans-
ferred from the chair of Surgery to that of Anatomy.
It was unfortunate for him that, with  the infirmities of
advancing life, such a transfer should have been made.
He was most passionately devoted to surgery, and all
the enthusiasm of his character must have been dis-
played when lecturing on that subject.   He had not
been  accustomed  to  the  dry and minute details  of
anatomy.   The contrast in  his manner,  on the two
subjects, was vividly presented to  those who  attended
his courses when Professor of Anatomy.   At the close
of a lecture he often  expressed his views  on the sur-
gical diseases of the parts in the demonstration of  which
he had been engaged, and then he was eloquent.   The
kindling of the eye,  and the fixedness of the features
shewed he was treating a subject which called forth his
powers.  No part of his  lectures  made half  the im-
pression on his class as these incidental  remarks  on
surgery.
   Several years before his death he was made Emeri-
tus Professor of Anatomy and  Surgery, having  retired
from the active duties of his chair and profession, and
not attending to patients, except at his  office.  He
closed his brilliant surgical operations by the  removal 
                   P. S. PHYSICK.               107
of a cataract: an appropriate termination of the pro-
fessional career of one who had contributed so much
to enlighten the world, when he relieved him who was
suffering the privation so feelingly  described, because
personally  felt, by the great master of English Epic,
as, "Wisdom at one entrance quite shut out."  Had
he died at  the zenith of  his fame and usefulness, the
impression  produced by his exit would have been in-
creased.  The associations connected with the fall  of
die vigorous and wide-spreading oak—the pride of the
forest—differ from those which arise, when the fury of
the tempest prostrates the  sapless trunk with its with-
ered branches.
   Dr. Physick had a mind peculiarly adapted  to the
successful prosecution of his profession.  Other medi-
cal men  have attained great eminence and popularity
by having vivid  imagination, forcible elocution, and
other captivating powers, combined with solid  profes-
sional attainments.   But, when they stand by the bed-
side, and engage  in the investigation  of the  hidden
causes of dfsease, these qualities of  the mind often be-
come the "ignes fatui" by which they  are led astray.
He had  no  imagination—no  various learning.  I do
not recollect,  during the three winters  I attended his
lectures,  ever to  have heard him illustrate the  subject
he  was  teaching  by drawing on other branches  of
science.  He  did not  attempt  oratorical  display.  A
perfect master of the point he wished to impress, he
used the fewest words;  and his style, in  an eminent
degree, was simple, chaste, and clear.   His mind was
patient of labour; accurate in investigation.  He made 
108
P.  S. PHYSICK.
his profession the object of his intellectual love.  Like
the traveller having a long journey before  him which
he  is resolved to accomplish,  he did not  turn aside
to wander over  beautiful  parterres, and pluck sweet
flowers.  His mode of  reasoning, in his  inquiries after
truth, was that of the Inductive Philosophy of Bacon:
a philosophy  wiiich teaches, as a great  principle, that,
in all the investigations of nature, the only true guides
to j ust theory are experiment and observation.  That
is  the only true mode: the one to  which we owe the
gigantic strides science  and the arts have  made since
1560—a year illustrated by the birth of  that Prince of
Philosophers.  They who have had  the  privilege of
standing by Dr. Physick, when investigating the disease
of his patient, must have been forcibly impressed by
his method.   He did not  permit him to give  a long
and unsatisfactory description  of his case, but  asked
him questions.  He pressed him on points where he
supposed  the truth was to be found.   His  mind was
eminently practical.  He did not aim at the support of
pre-conceived theories:  he  sought after facts.  I have
said he had no imagination; but I have not said he had
no  enthusiasm.  He had  genius,  and, of  necessity,
enthusiasm.    What is genius*  but susceptibility  of
emotion?
  *The following is a fine  description of the difference between
genius and talent: "A man  may possess talent without possessing
a spark of genius. Talent  is the power of exertion and acquisi-
tion; and of applying acquisition in a judicious and  effective man-
ner.  Talent is cool-headed; genius is hot-headed: talent may be
cold-hearted; genius can never be other than warm-hearted: talent
is generally prudent; genius is often imprudent: talent moves steadily 
P. S. PHYSICK.
109
  I  have observed that the mind of Dr. Physick was
practical: and  this was  the true source of  his  great
eminence; the reason why the  value of the contribu-
tions he  has made to medical science has not been de-
stroyed by time.   In this intellectual endowment he
formed a striking contrast with the most popular medi-
cal teacher this country has ever produced.  Dr.  Rush
had  a  bold, energetic mind; was full of enthusiasm;
confident of his  great powers;  and possessed, in a re-
markable degree, the ability to inspire his pupils with a
conviction of the truth of his doctrines; with a propa-
gandist spirit which disseminated them through all parts
of the country.  But he was a man of theories, and
exerted all his powers for their support.  A quarter of
a centuiy has  elapsed since his death; yet, long before
the close of that brief period, his doctrines had ceased
to have any influence with the  profession.  His  fame
remains, and will long remain,  as a brilliant example
of the control a man of genius exercises over all minds
that  come within  his influence.   He displayed  the
same order of genius that enables the warrior to inspire
his soldiers with the assurance of victory; or the states-
man to impart  his own convictions to admiring senates.
  Dr.  Physick was remarkable  for simplicity of  char-
acter.  He displayed no arrogance—no self-conceit on
and regularly forward; genius springs on impetuously, and lags in-
dolently, by turns. The feeling of talent is judgment; the judgment
of genius  is feeling.  Genius is proud and confident; talent is humble
and unpretending. The mind in which both are united, makes the
nearest approach to perfection; since the coolness of talent corrects
the impetuosity of genius, and the conceptions of genius  dignify
the operations of  talent."
       10* 
no
P.  S. PHYSICK.
   account of his acknowledged pre-eminence—no con-
   tempt for those beneath him.   True greatness is ahvays
   united with  simplicity.*   Wealth, honour, station,  at-
   tainment, genius, do not affect the bearing of  that man
   who is truly great and noble.   He has feelings of warm
   affection for all  his race;  and is humbled, rather than
   exalted, when he considers how many blessings heaven
   has bestowed on  one who is so unworthy.   The  posses-
   sion of knowledge does not inflate the truly great man
   with high opinions of himself.  It  serves to shew him
   he is standing on the shore of a boundless ocean, on
   whose bosom he may sail, but the extent of which he
   can never explore.
     A very natural transition from  the  contemplation of
   this simple nobility of his character, is to consider him
   as  a believer in divine Revelation.   His integrity and
   morality were always remarkable; but, it was towards
   the close of his life, that his inquiries  on the subject of
   the future condition of man became more apparent and
.  urgent.  The  fervor  of youth and the ardent pursuit
   of  ambitious  prospects may long divert man  from the
   consideration of his other home; but, when the passions

    *A distinguished writer, speaking of Lord Chatham, says, "He
   was an  almost solitary instance of a man of real genius, and  of a
   brave, lofty, and  commanding spirit, without simplicity of char-
   acter."  But, the testimony of the same writer—who,  in another
   place, describes him as,  "A man  whose errors arose, not from a
   sordid desire of gain, but  from a fierce thirst for power, for glory,
   and for vengeance"—proves that he was deficient in true nobility of
   character.  With a slight variation, we may employ Lord Chatham's
   words, and say,  Vengeance is a plant of slow growth in a truly noble
   heart. 
P. S. PHYSICK.
Ill
of his nature begin to expire; when the possession of
wealth  and honour has failed to confer happiness;
when incipient decay admonishes man that the beau-
ful temple in which his spirit dwells is tending to dis-
solution, it is then "the divinity that stirs within him,"
prompts him to inquire into his  capabilities  and his
destiny.   What consolation can  man  enjoy amidst
changes  and sorrows and  decays, unless he believe
"there is one broad sky over all the world; and, wiiether
it be blue or cloudy, the same heaven is beyond it."
   It has been said that the pursuit of medical science
has an  irreligious tendency: the habit of tracing the
connexion  of parts in producing results, leading  to a
forgetfulness  of the Great First Cause.   The charge
cannot  be  true.   It is contrary to all the established
laws which control the human mind, in deriving con-
clusions  from  testimony.   In all ages  of the world,
nations  have been taught the existence of a God by
the contemplation of his works.   I  do not say they
have been taught the existence of the God; possessed
of the attributes of the God of the  Bible.   Such  is
not the  fact.  But, although the divinity they worship
be made of wood or stone,  it confirms the argument.
The profession furnishes many illustrious names, be-
sides  Boerhaave  and  Physick,  in refutation of the
charge.
   The personal appearance  of Dr. Physick was very
imposing.  I have known men more majestic in bear-
ing, more commanding in figure: who trod upon the
earth with a step more firm  and proud, as if they felt
they were born to control its destinies.   But that clas- 
112               P. S. PHYSICK.
sically formed head  and face; that eye which reposed
in calm, almost melancholy expression, unless when
lighted up with intellectual fire; those lips which seldom
smiled; but, when they did, were surpassed  in expres-
sion only by the smile of woman! Who does not wish
some  Praxiteles had lived in his day, that  he  might
have  chiselled those features in Parian marble, and
thus convey them  down to all coming time? Often,
when I have called to recollection the noble features
of this great man, I have thought of the eulogy pro-
nounced on the Baron Cuvier by his wife—the noblest
eulogy ever pronounced by a wife on the character of
her husband.   When, after his death, his portrait was
presented to her, and  she  was asked if it resembled
him,  "It  is  he," she  exclaimed, "It is he;  it  is his
noble, pure,  and  elevated mind;  often melancholy;
always benevolent and calm, like real goodness.  It is
the great man  passing over this earth, and knowing
that there is something beyond." 
THE DEAF ELDER,
  The "Christain World"  contains an article, by the
Rev. T. B. Balch, on  the  Presbyterian Churches in
the lowrer part of the Eastern Shore of Maryland, viz:
Rehoboth, Pitt's  Creek, and Snow  Hill—the oldest
Churches, of the  Presbyterian  connexion, in the
United States.  They were founded by McKemie at
the beginning of the eighteenth centuiy.  Sketches of
several eminent  Christian  characters,  who  adorned
these Churches during the period the waiter ministered
to them,  are  drawn  in these  Reminiscenses: among
them, that of the Deaf Elder of the Rehoboth Church,
in Somerset county.  The following is part  of that
sketch:
  "My memory has been  occupied  more than once
about the Deaf Elder, who came to Westover, and gave
me there the right hand of welcome.  My first impres-
sions of him were not prepossessing.  No person was
ever pleased,  at a first  interview,  with Dr. Johnson;
and yet his house  was always filled with the children
of misfortune.  What a tender heart the great moralist
must have had, to have taken to his  house the blind,
the crippled,  and  forlorn.*  So with our Elder.  His
  The part of the character of Dr. Johnson, to which Mi. B. here 
114
THE DEAF ELDER.
difficulty of hearing was a sad trial.   To him the loud
thunder of the Alps would have been little more  than
the murmur of the Hybleean bee.  But this affliction
he bore with exemplary patience.
  "He magnified his office as an Elder.  He remind-
ed me of  a Scottish nobleman, to whom some  person
had enumerated all the honours he had ever received.
'But,' replied the nobleman, 'you have forgotten the
best of all, and that is my being a Parish Elder.'  Our
Elder had all the qualities for a valuable officer of the
Church.  He was popular, influential, and generous.
His purse, his house, his conveyances, were all at the
service of ministers.  He was a man  of moral courage,
united with acute sensibility.  Had  he been living at
the time of the crucifixion, instead of the period when
his existence w7as conferred, he would have urged his
way to the summit of Calvary, and have  bathed the
feet of his Saviour  in  tears.   He  would have  been
awed, but not stricken into servile consternation, at the
meridian  twilight  that  shaded the  mountain: would
have bent his ear,  and lifted his  trumpet to  catch the
dying words  of  the Son of God.  He wrould  have
stood, unmoved, at  the rending of the  rocks.  He
wTould have begged the body—prepared the spices—
and watched the sepulchre.    *****
refers, is described in the following extract: "For severe distress he
had sympathy; and not only sympathy, but munificent relief.  He
would carry home, on  his shoulders, a sick and starving girl from
the streets.   He turned his house into a place of refuge for a crowd
of wretched old creatures who could find no other asylum: nor could
all their peevishness and  ingratitude weary out his  benevolence."
This is a fine view of the character of the great English moralist. 
THE DEAF ELDER.
115
  "His dwelling was a kind of moral nucleus to  the
neighbourhood.  Thither the poor sent for bread,  the
sick for medicine,  the dying for consolation, and  the
perplexed for counsel.  It was a caravansery where
the weary and benighted were wont to call; it was kept
by  a good Samaritan, and there was nothing to pay.
It was more.   It was a spiritual light-house  to which
they looked who were about to be wrecked by misfor-
tune, or were already plunged into a sea  of affliction:
where penitents heard of an Ark; where prodigals were
pointed to rings  for  their  fingers, to  sandals for their
feet, and to choirs of angels who rejoice over returning
sinners.
   "He had lowiy views of himself, but exalted appre-
hensions of the Saviour.   This last was the theme on
which he loved to expatiate.   In seed time and  har-
vest,  Summer and Winter, when he moved by day or
watched by night, he was equally alive to the glory of
Redemption.
   "The writer could not help admiring the punctuality
with  which  the  Deaf Elder  attended  Church.   No
weather prevented.  He  w^ould  enter the sanctuary,
dripping with rain,  and would ride  over snow-drifts
with  his ear-trumpet dangling at his side.  When the
weather was mild, and the air was balmy, and all Na-
ture was breathing forth through the channel of a thou-
sand  voices,  he would ride leisurely along, and study
the picture with the love of a Christian.   As a hearer
of the Word he is  worthy of special mention.   He
generally sat in the  pulpit.  This was a privilege  con-
ceded to  him, on account of his deafness, in all the 
116
THE DEAF ELDER.
neighbouring Churches, and by ministers of the various
denominations.   In the pulpit he  would  thrust his
ear-trumpet as far  forward as modesty would allow.
Sometimes the  preacher would purposely incline to
him; and his countenance was an  unening index of
the extent to which he heard.   On communion occa-
sions he would  pass down  the table to distribute  the
elements, and then promptly return  to the side of the
preacher.  With this good  man the  writer maintained
years of familiar intercourse.  Many were the rides we
took  in company; and the woods through which we
passed were gilded  by his words.  *****
  "One day I reached his dwelling, and my surprise
was considerable that he did not come out and bid me
welcome.   I went into the house, and found the Elder
lying in his bed.  Not a feature was ruffled.  A sign
was made to him to take his  ear-trumpet.   When  he
had done so, I said, 'Are  you much indisposed?' He
replied, 'All the days of the  years  of my pilgrimage
are threescore years, and my  hour  has come.'  'But,'
answered  I, 'do not forget  the words of the Idumean
Patriarch, All the  days of my appointed time will I
wait, until my change come.'   'For that change,' said
he, 'I now wait.'   'On what,' I asked, 'do you depend
for acceptance?' 'Not,' he replied,  'on the dust  and
ashes of my own obedience, but on One who is a Rock
that will hold every insect  that lights upon Him.'
   "Our conversation was protracted.  Its detail  would
be needless, as it was but a repetition of truths  that
have stood the test of time, and in which all Christians 
THE DEAF ELDER.
117
 agree.   He lingered  but a short time  longer on this
 side the Jordan:  and here we pause; for

             'In vain my fancy strives to paint
             The moment after death.'----"

   The Editor of the Presbyterian, in the early part of
 his professional  labours,  passed  some months in that
 section of the State; and, I have no doubt, he can say,
 with the writer of the preceding sketch: "One of my
 best pleasures has been to  cherish a  remembrance of
 that part of the country; and more than once its scenery,
 its morning mists, its rites of redundant  hospitality, its
 seats of opulence, and, especially, its stars of devotion,
 have  passed before me in the  panorama of the ima-
 gination."   The Editor,  I  believe, was also well ac-
 quainted with the  Deaf  Elder—his  noble  and  intel-
 lectual character—his generous  hospitality—his kind
 and sympathising nature—his pure and deep devotion.*
  "These recollections are fresh in our memory.  It was  at the
 kind and earnest solicitation of the late Dr. James P. Wilson, that
 we visited the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and Virginia, soon after
 licensure  to preach  the Gospel.  Inexperienced in the world, and
 the high calling  of the ministry, we appeared amidst these stran-
 gers with fear and trembling; but we  were soon reassured. The
 kindness of many friends encouraged  us in our work; and  among
 these we  must ever prominently remember  Captain DufHeld,  of
 Snow Hill, and the Deaf Elder, at Rehoboth.  The former was once
 a thoughtless sea captain, but was made a trophy of grace, and, as
a private Christian and Ruling Elder, was an amiable example of
humility and devotion. The Deaf Elder was a remarkable man:
 characterized by  strong intellect, deep acquaintance with the Scrip-
 tures, and the most cheerful piety.  It seemed to us that his pleasant
 and confident  hopes of heavenly felicity were always betraying
themselves in  his smiling countenance.  We remember our own
 fears in first preaching before one who was so well qualified to judge;
       11 
118
THE DEAF ELDER.
He lived a life of comparative retirement, employed in
the cultivation of his estate:  but I never knew a man
who was more universally respected and beloved.   He
had native genius that would have enabled him to fill
high stations with honour and usefulness:  but he was
more a  student  of the Bible than of any  other book.
From a very intimate acquaintance with him,  I  can
affirm that I never knew a finer specimen of what I
conceive to be  the  true character of a  Presbyterian
Elder.  When the Church was  supplied with a Pastor,
he  was  ever  ready to aid—to  advise—to  execute.
When the  Church  was vacant, he would  cause as-
semblies for social worship to be  held within the parish.
He  would  visit,  converse,  and pray  with  the sick;
counsel the perplexed inquirer, and comfort the be-
reaved.   He was well  read on theological  subjects,
practical and  doctrinal: and, on  such  points,  could
maintain  an argument with any of the clergymen of
his day.   He was a man of strong  and impetuous pas-
sions, beautifully subdued and chastened by  the influ-
ences of religion; and, in his intercourse with the world,
he  Was  meek and gentle.  Who that ever heard him
lead in  social or family prayer,  can forget his subdued
and earnest tones of supplication? And  his soul ap-
peared almost to depart in the chariot of Elijah, when,
and we recall the kind and paternal encouragement which he  gave
us to go onward in our work. The memory of the just is blessed
Editor of the Presbyterian.*
  ♦This Sketch was originally published in the  Presbyterian.  The
memory of an eminently virtuous  and pious man belongs to posterity:
and the author, in preparing this article, was not restrained by the con-
sideration that his subject was his Father's Brother. 
THE DEAF ELDER            H9
with choked utterance and flowing tears, he  asked for
mercy, and longed for Heaven.  It caused no sur-
prise when, in 1825, Stephen Collins, the Deaf Elder
of Rehoboth, died—full of years and full of honour—
that he was followed to his grave by all classes, who
mourned for him as for a Friend and a Father. 
 
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
  Some  men of genius are  not appreciated in their
own day and age.  They pass their lives in the pro-
duction of works which they leave behind  them; and
by which their names will be transmitted to the most
distant generations.  The intellectual, like the natural
sun, appears the more brilliant after a temporary ob-
scuration.   Other  men of genius appear  with  the
greatest brilliancy to their contemporaries; and are in-
debted to  them for  their reputation  with  posterity.
Eloquence of a very high order, in connexion with
youth and  interesting personal appearance, takes  cap-
tive  the  judgment  of the audience, and excites un-
bounded admiration.   But, when the  discourses are
published,  they who never heard the orator, are at a
loss  to  understand how  the brilliant  reputation was
gained.  It is one thing to behold the  living being,
with all  the captivating graces of speech, and person,
and  feature, and motion; and a very different thing to
see the same being, after inexorable death has removed
the  spirit which gave  beauty  and animation  to  the
living body:
            "So mildly sweet, so deadly fair!
            We start, for soul is wanting there."
       11* 
122
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
  Memorable examples of this truth exist in our ovui
day.  They have existed in all past, and will be found
in all coming ages.  When the curtain falls and closes
the drama with men of this description, their friends
would act wisely if they left their  reputations to be
preserved by tradition.  Bacon was the most profound
thinker, as well as the most accomplished  orator of
his  age.  But this union is rare; and, when the reputa-
tion of a man is acquired by the captivating graces of
eloquence, more than by vigour of thought, the publi-
cation of his works will always diminish  his fame.  It
has been beautifully said that, Every attempt to pre-
sent on paper the splendid efforts of impassioned elo-
quence, is like gathering up  dew-drops,  which appear
jewels and pearls on the grass, but run to water in the
hand; the essence and the elements remain; but the
grace, the sparkle, and the form are gone.
  John Summerfield was born in 1798, in Lancashire,
England.  He received a very liberal education,  and,
at the age of twenty,  became a preacher of the  Me-
thodist Episcopal Church.  He commenced his minis-
terial  labours in  Ireland, to which  country his father
had removed with his family.   He acquired distin-
guished popularity in Ireland:  and, in 1820, he visited
England,  and preached  with great acceptance.   In
1821, he came to America; and,  shortly after his ar-
rival, he made a memorable speech  at the fifth Anni-
versary of the American Bible Society, in New York.
This speech produced a great sensation,  and  added to
the  popular estimation in which he had been advancing
during the few weeks he had preached in that city.   It 
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.           J23
also  prepared  the  way for the enthusiastic reception
which awaited him when he appeared in other sections
of the country.  A contemporary writer, speaking of
one of his sermons, says,  "The man realized the ethe-
reality of his  nature: then he felt, at least while the
lucid  rays of eloquence divine were emitted from the
almost irradiated speaker, his high and holy calling.
Powerful, indeed,  was the effect produced  by this
memorable sermon.  Long and deep was the respira-
tion which the audience  drew, when the speaker sat
down  amid the commingling scintillations of light
which himself had kindled.  From this time he was
followed by applauding, delighted multitudes: neither
did that voice  cease  to charm, nor that divinely illu-
mined intellect fail to pour light into the understanding,
and to carry conviction to the heart, until death closed
those lips, and  the soul, as in a chariot of  fire, ascended
to our God and his God."  His popularity was great—
beyond all  precedent.  All denominations crowded to
hear him; when he was expected to preach, multitudes
of all classes of citizens surrounded the  Churches be-
fore the  doors were opened; and hundreds were  ex-
cluded, as the  buildings could not contain them.   He
walked up the aisle, looking to neither side: his motion
being neither slow  nor rapid; but graceful, calm, meek,
and  saint-like.  So great were the crowds, that Mr.
Summerfield was repeatedly  obliged to enter hy the
windows.  The celebrated Dr. Mason, of New York,
when in the  ripeness of intellectual vigour,  visited
London; and such  was his popularity, that the crowTds
compelled him to adopt the same  mode to enable him
to ascend the pulpit. 
124
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
  In 1822, Mr. Summerfield was brought to the lowest
stage of bodily health by a violent liBemorrhage of the
lungs;  and, by the advice of his medical attendants,
sailed for France at the close of that year, and passed
several months  in Marseilles and Paris.  During this
period, the Anniversary of the Protestant Bible Society
of France was held  in Paris; and he attended  as the
bearer of the official  congratulations  of the American
Bible Society, of which he  was a director.  He pre-
pared an address for this occasion, which was translated
into French by  the Duchess de Broglie—daughter of
Madame de  Stael—and was read to the Society by a
friend, as the author stood  by his side.   This address,
which is the best published production of Mr.  Sum-
merfield  that I have  read, was  received with enthusi-
astic applause; and,  like the one delivered before the
Bible. Society, in New York, caused him  to be che-
rished with distinguished honours.
  His health improved slightly during his residence in
France; and he sailed for England, where he remained
until March, 1824.   During this period, he preached
very seldom—causing his friends great anxiety as they
witnessed his pale and emaciated appearance.  After
an absence of fifteen months he returned  to America,
with some improvement of health;  and immediately
commenced his ministerial  labours; which were con-
tinued in feebleness of body, but with great acceptance,
until disease laid him low.   He died, in New York, in
June, 1825, in the twenty-eighth year of his  age.  A
long procession,  composed  of various  denominations,
followed the corpse  through densely crowded streets: 
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
125
 and  wreeping friends deposited it  in  that mouldering
 sanctuary where, "Death, the mighty huntsman, earths
 us all."  His last words were, Good night, as he kissed
 his sister when she retired to rest for a few hours.   He
 reposed with the calmness of a good man who enjoys
 sweet sleep—at peace with the world, his conscience,
 and his God; and he realized the wish he expressed to
 a friend, three years before his death:  "Perhaps it may
 be thought strange, but 1 have never desired that mine
 should  be the triumphant end; singular to say, I have
 ever coveted the end of peace—peace—peace."  How
 wronderful is it, says a fine writer, that the young and
 the innocent are also the early-called! Thousands there
 are of the old, the grey-haired, the withered, all bend-
 ing to the earth as if seeking for their graves to rest in;
 and upon  none of these will the  spoiler set his seal;
 none will  he have, of what would seem  his lawful
 prey.   But the young, and the bright, and  the beau-
 tiful are all  his; and the warm  heart that has not
 throbbed half its season, is the one that disease selects
 to train for the tomb.
   I never saw Mr. Summerfield,  except in the pulpit;
 and his appearance there was interesting in the highest
 degree.   No  man ever more strongly impressed me
 with the thought, that he was a being who did not be-
 long to this world; but was sojourning for a short period,
 that he  might direct the minds of  men to a preparation
 for  that untried state  on which he was so soon to enter.
 His person was slightly*built:  and the paleness of his
 face,  with the general evidence  of  want  of bodily
vigour;  his youthful features, and a countenance re- 
126
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
markable for loveliness, calmness, and solemnity, gave
to his appearance in  the pulpit  a high degree of fas-
cination.   I never heard a man who read poetry so
well—with such entire freedom from all affectation.
His addresses to the Almighty were, perhaps, the most
remarkable of his pulpit performances.   When clergy-
men engage in such addresses, at public celebrations,
it is common with the press to style them, "eloquent
prayers;" using the same modes  of expression that are
applied to  the orations which succeed  them.  If by
eloquence, in that application, were meant that mys-
terious power which comes  from  the  heart of the
speaker, and touches  the hearts  of the  audience, the
term would be  without exception.  But, when thus
used, it means forcible thoughts, expressed in beautiful
language, and well turned periods, without any  refer-
ence to the spirit of devotion.   The prayers of Sum-
merfield  were eloquent because they  were devout.
They shewed he did not think of recommending him-
self; but that he felt he was addressing a  pure and holy
Being, in whose presence he was unworthy to appear,
but to whose mercy  he must be indebted for pardon,
and the hopes of heaven.   They opened every heart
to perceive the  beauty  of holiness; and  caused the
audience to exclaim with Jacob, Surely the Lord is in
this place, and I knew it not.   This is none other but
the house of God; and this is the gate of heaven.  He
made confession of sin as if he  felt he deserved con-
demnation: he asked for mercy  with the  importunity
of the Patriarch, who said, I will not let thee go,  ex-
cept thou bless  me.  I have heard Summerfield pray 
               JOHN SUMMERFIELD.            127
with  humility  so unaffected, importunity so earnest,
intercession so urgent, and adoration  so profound, that
I have almost expected he would, like  Elijah, "go up
by a whirlwind  into heaven;" and I was prepared to
exclaim, with Elisha, "The chariot of  Israel, and the
horsemen thereof."
  No written description could convey a proper con-
ception of the  sermons of Summerfield, when  his
intellect, and his spiritual  emotions were highly ex-
cited.  Under such circumstances, they were superior
to any I  ever heard.  His interesting personal appear-
ance, with his  sweetness and simplicity  of manners,
prepared the mind to receive the arguments, united
with  entreaties, by which he appealed to his hearers.
in the tenderest tones  of expostulation,  Why will ye
die?   The  language and gestures were  exceedingly
chaste; the topics stated  with distinctness, and strongly
enforced; the imagery natural and captivating; the dis-
course, in all  its parts, under the control of good sense,
and  good  taste.  His humility was  veiy remarkable.
Notwithstanding the homage paid to  his eloquence, he
constantly reminded the audience of  the declaration of
the great Apostle of the Gentiles: We preach not  our-
selves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and  ourselves your
servants  for  Jesus'  sake.   The late Dr.   William
Nevins, of Baltimore, said:  "I  have been astonished
that, in all my  intercourse with Summerfield, I never
heard any thing from  him, even  by accident,  that
savoured of vanity.   He was  literally clothed  with
humility, nor was the garment scanty.  What popular
preacher  but he, ever passed before the  world, without 
128
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
being, at least, accused of affectation? That he was, I
never heard."
  Such is the character of the  inimitable pulpit  elo-
quence of the "fervent, fearless, self-sacrificing preacher,
who was the delight of wondering, weeping, and ad-
miring  audiences."   He  had his inspiration; but  it
was the inspiration of genius and devotion—existing
in one who was, in appearance and manner, the per-
sonification  of  meekness.  The  published works of
Summerfield do  not  contain much posthumous  evi-
dence of the power of  his genius.  It would be as
easy to  transfer  to  canvass  the beautifully-blended
colours of the rainbow, as it spans the heavens before
it disappears amidst  the storm;  or  the georgeous-
ness of the  clouds, as I  have seen them,  suspended
over the  mountain-top, and reflecting, in a thousand
combinations, the  rays of the setting sun, as to place
on paper  the lively and  beautiful illustrations—the
living, breathing,  speaking eloquence of John Sum-
merfield.  His  reputation with posterity must rest on
the  descriptions of those  who heard the  touching
pathos of his eloquence, proceeding from  devotional
inspiration, combined with cultivated imagination and
intense animal feeling.  Dr. Nevins expressed the fol-
lowing just conceptions of his  character:   "I almost
compassionate  the biographer  of Summerfield, how-
ever great his graphic talents may be.  I anticipate
that the best written  memoir of him will  be to  the
living, speaking, and acting Summerfield, very much
what his best printed  discourse was to the unwritten
eloquence that he used to pour forth from his heart, in 
               JOHN SUMMERFIELD.            129

 his most ordinary sermons; for the eloquence of our
 friend was, pre-eminently, that of the  heart.   It  was
 the oratory of nature: and I have often remarked that,
 in any age, in any country, in any language, and under
 all circumstances, he would have been the same magic
 master of the human heart that we felt him to be."
   In early life, Summerfield  was a frequent attendant
 on the preaching of Thomas  Spenser, who,  by his
 youth, his piety, and  his eloquence,  produced  such
 decided  impressions on the inhabitants of  Liverpool.
 When that admirable young man met an early death
 by drowning, while  bathing  in a stream, and  a well
 written account of his life was published, Summerfield
 read  it with  great interest and  delight, and  thereby
 increased the spark of piety  already kindling in his
 own  heart; and  was filled with  anxious  desires to
 adopt the  same  sacred  profession.  Premature death
 has, in every age of  the world, often been  the fate of
 genius and of virtue.  Virgil  has celebrated,  in  im-
 mortal song, the  early  removal of the virtuous  and
 gifted  son of Octavia  from the  idolatry  of  Rome,
 before he  occupied  the throne of Csesar:  and  the
 Christian world  has often been  required to bow, in
 profound  submission, to  the mysterious providence
 which has plucked from their orbit, in the morning of
 life, many of the brightest suns that have ever arisen
to delight and bless mankind.
12 
 
WILLIAM COWPER.
   I have seen an article containing a quotation from,
The Task, the author of which is described by the wri-
ter of the article as, "The Misanthropic Poet." Cowper
has long continued to be a favourite with the literary and
religious public; and they will not consent that mis-
anthropy shall be considered as a part of his character.
If he had been a misanthrope, literature  would never
have been enriched  by those works  upon which his
genius  has  conferred  immortality.   A  misanthrope
may possess high intellectual  endowments; but his
efforts  will be  simply  intellectual, without the  moral
emotions -which address themselves to the sympathies
of the  great family  of man.  Diogenes, in his tub,
might have given to  the world a great work on abstract
science;  but  he could never have lamented,  in the
delightful strains of Cowper, over the misery and op-
pression under which man is made to mourn;  or have
led his readers to  repose  by the pure  fountains of
which they drink who  hold communion with Nature.
  That such was the  character of Cowper, is abun-
dantly evident from his  poems, his correspondence, and
his friendships.  I do  not know an author to  whom
I would  not as  soon ascribe misanthropy as to him 
132
WILLIAM COWPER.
 Take the following well-known  lines as an evidence
 of the kindness of his nature:
       "0 for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
       Some boundless contiguity of shade,
       Where rumours of oppression and deceit,
       Of unsuccessful or successful war,
       Might never reach me more! my ear is pained
       My soul is sick with ev'ry day's report
       Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
       There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart;
       It does not feel foi man;  the natural bond
       Of brotherhood is sever'd, as the flax
       That falls asunder at the touch of fire."
 This is the  quintessence of benevolence; and almost
 every page  of his works  contains evidence  of the
 same kind and loving nature.
  If we consider his  Christian character,  do we not
 find it to be most beautiful?  It was too often dimmed
 by  interposing clouds: but, afterwards, it shone  with
 more lustre  because of  the  temporary obscuration.
 The  character of the sun  is  not  altered when, for a
 day  or a week, he  is concealed from  our view.   The
 devotional poetry of Cowper  is admired by  Christians
 of all denominations.  Penitence, reverence, humility,
 and the desire of holiness, breathe in every  line.   All
 the objects of animate  and inanimate nature  are so
many conductors to lead his  thoughts up to the Good
 Being who  made them  all.  And  is it  possible  that
he, whose  heart wras filled  with such  love for the
 Great Creator, could  have  been  a  misanthrope—a
hater of  his  fellow?  Religion  and  misanthropy are
perfect incompatibles.  "Shew me a man," said  Lac-
 tantius, "in  whose heart the fury of the tiger is found, 
               WILLIAM COWPER.             I33

raid, by a few words of the Book of God, I will make
him gentle as a lamb."   Such is the invariable effect
of Christianity,  in  all ages, on  those  who  feel its
power.  Misanthropy  cannot dwell in  the  bosom of
the Christian man, of  whom we may say, "Happy is
thy cottage, and happy the sharer of it, and happy are
'he little lambs which sport themselves  around thee."
  Look at his friendships.   No man ever had more
devoted friends.  It was the misfortune of Cowper
that he never  formed  that domestic association which
might have  prevented, or woidd have mitigated, the
developement of his constitutional melancholy.  But,
he  numbered among his  friends the   Unwins,  the
Thorntons, the Throckmortons, John Newton, and the
sprightly Lady Austen to wiiose animated companion-
ship the world is indebted for, The Task, which placed
its author at the  head of the poets of the  day,  and
proved that excellence might exist in English versifica-
tion, although the writer  did not imitate the artificial
elegance of Pope.  These friends cherished him, with
great kindness, amidst all his gloom and  miseries; and
he remained  an inmate  of the  Unwin  family more
than thirty years.  Do these facts prove him to have
been a misanthrope?
  The great defect in the  character of  Cowper  was
melancholy,  not  misanthropy.   The cause  of  this
melancholy has been a subject of much discussion with
the biographers of this great poet.   Medical men un-
derstand how intimately the health of the mind is con-
nected with that of  the body: how a slight  defect in
physical organization may entail acute and protracted
       12* 
134
WILLIAM COWPER.
mental suffering.   Cowper was awrare of the  cause of
his miseries, and says, "Could I be translated to Para-
dise, unless I could leave my body  behind me, my
melancholy would  cleave to  me there."  Again,  he
says, "I arise in the morning  like an infernal frog out
of Acheron, covered with the ooze and mud of melan-
choly."   But, if  the day was  bright, its  progress
diminished his gloom.   The intelligent reader will
perceive, from this statement, that his disease was hypo-
chondria,  caused by  dyspeptic habit;  and thus, the
well-known morbid sensibility of such sufferers was
imparted to body and mind.   A few years since, dys-
pepsia was a very common disease; and, perhaps, eveiy
one who  did  not feel, had opportunity to observe its
painful effects.   The degree of morbid sensibility often
approaches insanity; and I have seen patients, whose
minds in  health were admirably  well-balanced,  re-
strained, by moral and religious considerations alone,
from  plunging the murderous dagger in  their own
hearts; thus seeking, in suicide, a refuge from sorrow.
It has often been said, that Cowper's religion was the
cause of his insanity.  The  charge shews  that  those
by whom it is advanced are  equally ignorant of the
nature of religion,  and of our physical organization-
Religion cures us  of insanity, because, in one sense,
every man is insane who  lives, year after year, without
an abiding reference to another state of being.  The
melancholy, or insanity  of a diseased  mind may as-
sume  a religious character; but, that does not prove
religion to have been its cause, any more than the well-
known fact, that insane persons often deem their best 
WILLIAM COWPER.
135
friends and nearest relations to be their deadliest foes,
proves the severance of the  tenderest ties by  which
society is bound together.  Sound reasoning does not
confound  effect with  cause.   The  tendency of true
religion is to make men pure and happy.   She teaches
that all men are our brethren;  that we should minister
to the wants  of those  who occupy the dwellings of
poverty and sorrow.   She clothes external nature with
a thousand beauties, unseen by those who do not trace
the character of the  Creator by finding,
      "Tongues in the trees, books in the running brooks,
      Sermons in stones, and good in every thing."
She mitigates our misfortunes by teaching that they
are inflicted, for wise purposes, by a kind Father who
loves his  children; she  leads to an eternal  home of
happiness in  heaven.  Can the tendency of such a
system be to produce insanity?  I believe in the natural
corruption of  our nature; that the most innocent being
on earth could not endure a full view of the depravity
of the heart,  the sinfulness of the life—and the con -
sequent exposedness to the divine displeasure—unless
the convictions of sin  were met  by the promises of
pardon.   A conscience thus awakened, attended with
hopeless despair,  constitutes the very essence of the
misery of the damned.  But these convictions do not
drive man to insanity.  When all expedients have
failed to procure peace, the Spirit leads the sinner to
the cross;  he  looks, and believes,  and lives.   Let not
religion be charged with the misery and insanity arising
from disease,  or physical organization.  It has been
said of  Cowper, that, after he became a Christian, he 
136
WILLIAM COWPER.
 never, amidst all his depressions, renewed his attempts
 to commit suicide.
   The last six years of Cowper's life were passed in
 pitiable suffering.  That was a long eclipse for genius
 so  exalted,  character so  pure, affections so  strong.
 The  sun may be  obscured by clouds as he plunges
 beneath  the Western waters;  but,  he will arise and
 shine on other lands in other climes.  The light of his
 genius and of his  Christian hope, were  concealed in
 darkness—not extinguished.  His writings will  be the
 delight of the Christian scholar as long as the produc-
tions of genius shall live.  They contain
       "Not one immoral, one corrupting thought;
       >,One line which,, dying, he would wish to blot." 
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
   One of the  most remarkable facts connected with
the  labours of literary men of any age, is, that  the
translation of the Holy Scriptures, made two hundred
and  thirty-one  years ago, in the reign of James I., is
the  version of the Bible now  in use.  Whether  our
increased acquaintance with Oriental customs and man-
ners, and the changes the English language has under-
gone since the time of James I., will  be considered as
arguments sufficiently strong to require a new transla-
tion, or a correction of that now in use, we cannot pre-
dict.   One thing is certain:  suggestions of that nature
have not been received with favour, except, perhaps,
by some  denominations who suppose that particular
words, or phrases ought to be translated in accordance
with their distinctive  opinions.  Every  person must
have a  desire to know the care with which the Bible
has been translated into various languages, at different
periods;  and will be  interested with tracing the steps
which  led to the translation wiiich is now—and  has
been for more than two centuries—daily in the hands
of every Protestant reader, in all countries  where  the
English is the vernacular language.   I propose to give
a  very condensed  account of King  James' Bible:  but 
138
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
will, as preliminary, place in connexion  some  facts—
derived from various authorities—in relation to different
translations of the Scriptures.
   The collection of  writings,  says  a  distinguished
writer,  which contains the standard for  the  faith and
practice of Christians, has been called Scriptures, by
way  of intimating their  importance  above  all  other
writings—Holy  or Sacred Scriptures,  because  they
were written by authors who were  divinely inspired-^
Canonical Scriptures, either because they are a rule of
faith  and practice; or  because they  were inserted in
ecclesiastical  canons or catalogues, in order  to distin-
guish them from such  books  as were apocryphal  or of
uncertain authority, and unquestionably  not  of divine
origin—Bible, a Greek word  which means a book, but
is applied, by way of pre-eminence,  to this collection,
as being the Book of Books.*
  The first translations of the Old Testament—which,
with the exceptions of a few words and  passages that
are in the Chaldsean dialect, is written in the Hebrew
language—were made  after the Babylonish  captivity;
and were called Targums, from a Chaldee word which
  *The Jews divided the books of the Old Testament into three
classes—the Law, comprising the Pentateuch—the  Prophets,  which
were divided into former and latter; the former consisting of Joshua,
Judges, Samuel,  and Kings:  the latter embracing Isaiah, Jeremiah,
Ezekiel,  and the Twelve Minor Prophets which were  counted as
one book—the Hagiographa—so called from two Greek  words
which mean Holy Writings—comprehending Psalms, Proverbs, Job,
Song  of Solomon, Ruth, Lamentations of Jeremiah, Ecclesiastes,
Esther, Daniel, Ezra, Nehemiah, and the two books of  Chronicles.
This division was called Cetubim, or Holy Writings, because they
were not, like the law of Moses, orally delivered; but  were com- 
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
139
 means version or explanation.  They are also known by
 the name of Chaldee  Paraphrases, as they are rather
 comments and explications, than literal translaations of
 the text.   Some of these Targums are yet extant, and
 they are often mentioned in the writings of the ancient
 Fathers of the Church.  The most ancient, valuable,
 and memorable Greek translation of the Old Testament,
 now extant, is that called the Septuagint, made in the
joint reigns  of Ptolemy Lagus, and his son Ptolemy
 Philadelphia, 286 years B. C.   It  derives its name
from its being supposed to be the production of seventy-
two Jews, usually called  the seventy interpreters—
seventy being a round number.  If the Pentateuch,
 and the Book  of Joshua were  translated into Greek
before the time of  Alexander the Great—as some have
affirmed—all the copies have perished.  It is supposed
that the Church at Antioch possessed a Syrian  transla-
tion of the Bible,  A. D. 100.  In  Abyssinia, there  is
an  Ethiopic version of  the Bible, ascribed to an author
of  the fourth century.   Chrysostom, who lived at the
end of that  century, and Theodoret, who  was fifty
years later, state that they  possessed  Syrian, Indian,
Persian, Armenian, Ethiopic, and Scythian versions of
posed by men divinely inspired, yet without any public mission as
prophets.
  The books of the Old Testament are now generally divided into
four classes—the Pentateuch, or five books of Moses—the Historical
Books, comprising from Joshua to Esther,  inclusive—the Doctrinal
or Poetical Books, consisting of Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes,
and  the Song of Solomon—the Prophetic Books, comprising Isaiah,
Jeremiah with  Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel, and the Twelve
Minor Prophets.  See Home's Introduction. 
140
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
the Bible.  The ancient Egyptians possessed  a trans-
lation into  their language; also the Georgians.  The
most ancient German translation  is that made by Ul-
philas, A. D. 360.   In all these versions, except the
Syrian, the Old Testament is translated from the Sep-
tuagint,  and  not immediately from the Hebrew,  in
which language it was originally written.  Notwith-
standing  the  great  excellence  of  the  Septuagint,
competent judges decide  that it should not,  as has
sometimes been  done, be  considered as equal to the
Hebrew text.
  The Old and New Testaments were translated into
Latin by scholars among the primitive  Christians.
During  the continuance  of  the Roman Empire  in
Europe, the Scriptures were every where read in Latin,
which was the  universal  language  of that Empire:
before the  Christian  sera, the Greek had been the
general  language.  But, after its overthrow, and the
erection of  various kingdoms upon its ruins, the Latin
language gradually fell into disuse;  and hence the ne-
cessity for  having the Bible translated into as many
modern  languages as there are different nations pro-
fessing the  Christian religion,  not using the same lan-
guage.  The total number of dialects, in  all  parts  of
the world, is supposed to be about  five hundred: and
of these, more than one hundred constitute  languages
generically  distinct.   The Sacred Scriptures have been
translated,  either wholly or in part,  into upwards  of
one hundred and fifty of these various dialects.  The
chief  translations of the Scriptures,  which have been
made into the different modern languages of Europe, 
                KING JAMES' BIBLE.            j^.j

 amount  to  about forty-two.   The Vulgate is  a very
 ancient translation of the Bible into Latin; and is the
 only translation acknowledged by the Church of Rome
 to be authentic.  Latin translations were made  for the
 Latin  Church, soon  after the  first introduction  of
 Christianity: one of which obtained a more extensive
 circulation than the others, and was called by Jerome
 the Vulgate, and the Old translation.  Jerome  made,
 towards the close of  the fourth century, another  Latin
 translation, which surpassed all that preceded it.  There
 are three classes of the Vulgate; the ancient Vulgate,
 translated from the Septuagint; the modern  Vulgate,
 the greater part of which is translated from the Hebrew-
 text; and the new Latin translation, by Sanctes Pagninus,
 made in the sixteenth century—also from the Hebrew
 text.
   I will now give a very condensed account—derived
 from  several  authorities—of the  translations  of the
 Bible, at different  periods, into the  English language.
 The assertion  that Adelme, Bishop of Sherborne, who
 lived  early in the eighth  century and was a man  of
 great learning, translated the Psalms into the Saxon, is
 supposed, by some authorities, not to  be supported by
 sufficient  evidence.   Egbert,  Bishop of  Lindisfern,
 who died in 721, translated the four Gospels into Saxon;
and, about the same period, the venerable Bede  made
a  Saxon version  of the entire  Bible.  Two hundred
years  later, King Alfred made another translation  of
the Psalms:  and, in 995, Elfred,  Arehbishop of  Can-
terbury, translated into Saxon, the Pentateuch, Joshua
Kings, and Esther.  The first English translation  of
       13 
142
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
the Bible, known to be extant, was made in 1290—the
author unknown.   Of  this there are extant three
manuscript copies, in the Bodleian, Christ's Church
College, and Queen's College libraries.
  In 1382, Wickliffe, who has been called the Apostle
of England, completed  his translation of the  Bible,
which was made from the Latin Vulgate.   This was
not printed; but, there are several manuscript copies of
his work  still extant in some public and private libra-
ries.  Wickliffe's translation of the New Testament—
the price of a manuscript copy of which, in 1429, was
^.'40 of the present currency—was printed in 1731.
  Several English versions of the Old and New Tes-
taments were published in the reign of Henry VlII.—
the most  remarkable of which  was that  of William
Tyndal, printed at Antwerp or  Hamburg, in  1526.
The New Testament was translated from the original
Greek: it  is supposed  the Old Testament was trans-
lated from the  Latin  of the Vulgate, or the Greek of
the Septuagint.   After the death  of Tyndal—who, at
the time of its occurrence, was engaged on a  second
edition of  his translation—the work was prosecuted by
Coverdale, and the Proto-Martyr John Rogers who re-
vised the translation of Tyndal by comparing  it with
the Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and German; and he also
added notes taken from  the Bible of  Luther.  This
was the first translation of the whole Bible printed in
the English language; and was the first English Bible
allowed by royal authority.   This work was published
in 1535; and, as Rogers assumed the  name, Thomas
Matthew,  the edition of  1537,  was called Matthew's 
                KING JAMES' BIBLE.             143
 Bible.   It  was first  printed at Hamburg, and after-
 wards in England, in virtue of a license obtained by
 the influence of Cranmer, Latimer, and Shaxton.   In
 1539, a  large folio Bible was published under the di-
 rection of Cranmer, styled the Great Bible: and, in the
 same year,  another was published, called Travener's
 Bible, from the name of its conductor, Richard Tra-
 vener.   Cranmer wrote a preface for the Great Bible—
 hence called  Cranmer's  Bible—and  every  parish
 Church  throughout England was required, by royal
 proclamation, to have  a copy  of this Bible in the
 Church;  and the  curates and parishioners  were com-
 manded,  by like  proclamation,  to have it,  under a
 penalty of forty shillings for every month they should
 be without it.   By the order of Henry VIII. Tonstal
 and Heath,  Bishops of Durham and Rochester, super-
 intended  a  new  edition of Cranmer's Bible, which
 was published in 1541: but, as it did not please Henry
 —who added the title  of  Defender of the Faith, to  that
 of King  of  England—it was suppressed, by authority.
 It is doubtful whether another translation was made in
 the reign of Edward VI.; or, as  has  been said,  two
 editions printed—in 1549, and 1551.
  In  the reign of Mary, seven English exiles residing
at Geneva made a new translation, wiiich wTas pub-
lished in  1560; and  was  called the Geneva Bible.*
This was the first English Bible in which the chapters
  •John Knox was one of the  translators of the  Geneva Bible,
among whom, we may readily suppose, he occupied a distinguished
position.  The Geneva version of the Bible is considered, by some
eminent theologians, as more accurate on what are called the Doc-
trines of Grace, than that of King James I. 
144
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
were  divided  into  verses:  an  invention  of Robert
Stephens, in 1551.  In connexion  with this fact, it
may be remarked that the Law—called the Pentateuch,
or Five Books of Moses—was originally written in one
volume: and this is the form of the manuscripts which
are  now  read  in  the synagogues.   It is supposed—
from the Greek origin of the names—that the writings
of Moses were divided into the Five Books by the
authors of the Septuagint Greek  version, or, as it is
sometimes called, the Alexandrian Greek version.  The
divisions  of  the Bible into chapters appears to have
been invented by Cardinal Hugo  about the middle of
the  thirteenth  century.  In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,
Abp. Parker resolved to have a new  translation for the
use  of the Church; and the work was executed by the
Bishops,  and other learned men.   It  was printed  in
1568, in large folio with short annotations, and wras
called the Great  English Bible; or, more commonly,
the  Bishops' Bible, as eight of those employed were
Bishops.   This work was translated from the Hebrew
of the Old Testament,  and from the Greek of the
New Testament:  and the  chapters are divided into
verses as in the Geneva Bible.   Each  learned man
employed took a part for  translation; and, when the
whole was completed, the different portions were added
together to form the volume—the  Archbishop oversee-
in"', examining,  directing,  and finishing the whole.
In  1572, this Bible was re-printed in large folio, with
corrections, amendments, and  prolegomena; and was
called Matthew Parker's Bible.  An octavo edition of
this version,  in fine black letter, was printed in  1569. 
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
145
 The Bishops'Bible was used in the Churches for forty
 years:  but,  during that period,  the Geneva Bible was
 the book  most used in private  houses;  which  caused
 twenty editions to be printed in as  many years.*  The
 Roman Catholics, at Rheims,  published a translation
 of the New Testament, from  the Latin Vulgate,  in
 1582,  called the Rhemish Translation: and, in 1610,
 that denomination published, at Doway, a translation
 of the  Old  Testament, also from the Vulgate; and
 hence  their English translation of the  Bible is called
 the Doway or  Douay  Bible.  These two translations
 form the English Bible of the Roman Catholics.
   The following  are the most celebrated  of the
 Polyglott  Bibles.   1.  The  Coraplutensian Polyglott
 —so called from Complutum, a town  of  Spain, the
iresidence  of  Cardinal Zimenes,  who  spent 50,000
(ducats on the work.   This work was published in six
folio volumes, in 1522—the Old Testament  in He-
 brew, Greek, and Latin; the New Testament in Greek
 and Latin.   2. The Antwerp Polyglott; published in
 1572, in eight folio  volumes, in Hebrew, Greek, Latin
 and Chaldee.  2. The Paris Polyglott; published  in
 1645, in ten folio volumes, in Hebrew, Samaritan,
 Chaldee, Greek, Syriac, Latin and  Arabic.   4. The
 London Polyglott,  or that of  Bishop  Walton; pub-
 lished  in  165T, in   six folio volumes—nine different

  *The  first French Protestant Bible  was published, in 1535, by
 Olivetan, assisted  by his relative John Calvin, the illustrious  re-
 former.  This translation was made by Calvin to conform to the
 Hebrew. But nearly all the French Bibles are translated from the
 Latin Vulgate.
       13* 
146
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
languages being used in the work.   There are several
other Polyglotts: also, Diglotts, Triglotts, Octoglotts.
   During the Conference held at Hampton  Court, in
1604,  the  correctness of the Bishops' Bible—which
had been  used in the Churches since 1568—became
a subject of discussion;  and, as the result, King James
1., who attended the Conference and took an active
part in the discussions, issued an order for the execu-
tion of a new translation.   This important work was
entrusted to fifty-four learned and pious men.  They
did  not commence their  labours before 1607; when
forty-seven of the number originally appointed—men
eminent for piety, and profoundly versed in the lan-
guages  in  which the Bible wras originally written—
entered upon the translation.  The other seven had
died, or declined the task.   The character of the work
was defined by their  instructions:  "Not a translation
altogether new;  nor yet to make of a bad one a good
one; but to make a good one better; or, of many good
ones, one best."  When they assembled, the first pro-
cedure was to arrange themselves  into six  Classes or
Committees, to each of whom a portion of  the Bible
was given for  translation.  The Deans of  Westmin-
ster and Chester were the directors of the two Com-
panies or Committees which met at  Westminster: and
the King's  Professors of Hebrew and Greek  in the
Universities, wrere  the  directors of the four Commit-
tees which  assembled at Cambridge and Oxford.
   The manner in  which  the  distribution of the por-
tions  was  made, and the whole  completed, is  thus
described by the learned Selden, who is styled by  Gro- 
                KING JAMES' BIBLE.            147
tins  the glory of the English  nation: "The English
translation of the Bible," says  Selden  in his Table-
Talk, "is the best translation in the world, and renders
the sense of the original best; taking in for the English
translation the Bishops' Bible, as well as King James'.
The translators in King James' time took an excellent
way.   That part of the Bible was given to him  who
was most excellent  in  such a tongue; and then  they
met together, and one  read  the  translation; the rest
holding in their hands some Bible, either of the learn-
ed tongues, or French,  Spanish, Italian, &c.   If  they
found  any fault, they spoke;  if not,  he  read  on."
Such is the opinion of Selden, of  whom Lord  Clar-
endon  says, "He was one whom no character can flat-
ter, or transmit in  any expressions equal to his merit
and  virtue."   Bishop  Lowth  says of this version,
"The vulgar* translation of the Bible is the best stan-
dard of our language."  Similar testimony is borne
in its  favour by other eminent  English scholars;  as
Adam  Clarke,  Beattie, Taylor,  Horsley, Doddridge,
Middleton, Geddes, Whittaker.   The work was com-
menced  in 1607,  and completed and  published,  in
1611—some authorities say, in  1613—and is the trans-
lation of the Bible now  read, by authority, in the
Churches of the  Establishment in England; and  is
the same in use in this  country by  Protestant denomi-
nations, and is called King James' Bible.
  * It is hardly necessary to  remind the  reader that, by the word
vulgar, in this connexion, is not meant, ordinary, mean, low, gross;
but, of, or pertaining to, the multitude or many. 
148
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
   After this period, all other  versions of the Bible
ceased to  be used, with the exception of the Psalms,
and the Epistles and Gospels, in the Book of Common
Prayer, which were still continued—the Psalms accord-
ing to the version of  Cranmer's Bible; the Epistles
and Gospels according  to that of the Bishops' Bible—
until  the revision  of  the  Liturgy, in  1661.  The
Epistles  and  Gospels  w^ere  then taken  from King
James' Bible; but  the Psalms  are  still  retained as
translated in Cramner's Bible.
   Dr. Blayney published, at Oxford, in 1769, an edition
of King  James' Bible, which, on account of its accu-
racy,  was considered  the  standard  edition  until the
publication of  Woodfall's edition—or, as it is some-
times called,  the edition  of Eyre and Strahan—at
London,   in  1806.  Several  important errata were
discovered in Dr. Blayney's edition: but, it is said that
only one erratum, has been found in that of Woodfall
of 1806.   This is a very near approach to an immacu-
late text.   In 1820 the  General Convention of the
Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of
America,  recommended the  Edition  of  Eyre  and
Strahan to the members of that Church, as  the stan-
dard edition of the Bible.*
   I have known very intelligent persons who supposed
the italics in King James'  Bible were used as marks of
emphatic  words.   The italics are  designed to shew
that the words so printed are not found  in the originals
from which the version is  made.  This plan appears
to have been adopted from the Great Bible, printed in
  *See Home's Introduction—fourth edition. 
KING JAMES' BIBLE
149
1539; in the text of which those parts of the  Latin
version which are not found in the Hebrew or Greek,
are inserted  in  a smaller  letter.  The  Geneva  Bible
also contains, inserted in the text with another kind of
letter,  every word  that seemed  to  be  necessary for
explaining any particular sentence.  The same  mode
is also used in the Bishops'  Bible.
  The following judicious Rules, which prescribed the
manner in which the translators were required by the
King to accomplish this  most important  work, will
give  the reader  a view7 of the great  care with which
the translation was perfected:

                      RULES.
   1. The ordinary Bible read in the  Church, com-
monly called the Bishops' Bible, to be  followed, and
as little altered  as the original will permit.
  2. The names of the prophets and the holy writers,
with  the other names in the  text, to be  retained, as
nigh as may be, accordingly as they are vulgarly used.
  3. The old ecclesiastical  words to be kept;  viz:  the
word "Church"  not to be   translated  "Congrega-
tion," &x.
   4. When any word  hath divers significations, that
to be kept which hath been most commonly used by
the most eminent Fathers;  being agreeable to the pro-
priety of the place, and the analogy of  the faith.
  5. The division of the  chapters to be altered,  either
not  at  all,  or  as  little  as may  be,  if necessity  so
requires.
   6. No marginal notes at all to  be  affixed, but only
for the explanation of the  Hebrew or Greek words, 
150
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
which cannot, without some circumlocution, be  so
briefly and fitly expressed in the text.
  7, Such quotations of places to  be marginally set
down, as  shall serve  for  the fit references of one
scripture to another.
  8. Every particular man of each  Company to take
the  same  chapter, or chapters; and  having translated,
or amended them  severally by himself, where he think -
eth  good, all to meet together, confer on what  they
have done, and agree on their parts what shall stand.
  9. As any one  Company hath despatched any one
book in  this  manner, they shall send  it to the rest, to
be  considered  of, seriously and judiciously; for his
Majesty is very careful in this point.
  10. If any  Company, upon the review of the  book
so sent, shall doubt, or differ upon any places, to send
them  word thereof, note the places, and—there-withal
send their reasons; to which, if they consent not, the
difference  to be compounded at the general meeting,
which is to be  of the chief persons of  each Company.
at the end of the  work.
  11. When any place of special obscurity is doubted
of,  letters  to be directed, by authority, to send  to any
learned man in the land for his judgement of such a
place.
  12. Letters  to  be  sent from  every   Bishop  to the1
rest of his clergy,  admonishing them of this translation
in hand, and  to move  and charge as many as, being
skilful in  the tongues, have taken pains in that  kind,
to send their particular  observations  to the Company,
either at Westminster, Cambridge, or  Oxford, accord- 
                KING JAMES' BIBLE.             \r,\
 ing as it was directed before in the King's letter to the
 Archbishop.
   13. The directors  in  each  Company to be  the
 Deans of Westminster and  Chester, for the two Com-
 panies at Westminster: and the King's  Professors in
 the Hebrew and Greek, in the two Universities.
   14. The following translations  to  be used,  when
 they agree better with the text than the Bishop's Bible;
 viz: Tyndal's, Matthew's, Coverdale's, Whitchurch's,
 Geneva.
   15.  Besides the  said  directors   before  mentioned,
 three or four of the most grave and ancient divines in
 either of the Universities, not employed in translating, to
 be assigned by the Vice-Chancellor, upon conference
 with the rest of the heads, to be overseers of the trans-
 lation, as well Hebrew as Greek, for the better obser-
 vation of the fourth Rule above specified.
   Such is a condensed account—designed for the use
 of the general reader, not for that of  the  biblical
 scholar—of King James'  Bible, which,  for two hun-
 dred and thirty-one years, has, for its  fidelity, literary
 excellence, and perspicuity, been  so highly esteemed
 by  Christians in all parts  of  the wTorld  where  the
 English language is read.  It has been asserted, as a
very remarkable fact,  that, notwithstanding the nume-
 rous versions of the Scriptures which, during so many
centuries, have been made by scholars, no translations
 but those known as  the  great Germanic or Luther's
 Bible—which, with the aid of Melancthon and  other
eminent  scholars, Luther translated from the original
Hebrew and Greek, and published in 1530—and King 
152
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
James'  Bible, have been regarded  as  classics of the
language in which the versions are made.
   It will not be contended that this translation is per
feet.  Perfection does not belong to human works.   A
distinguished biblical scholar of Baltimore pointed out
to me what he thinks is an incorrect translation  in  II
Cor. iii. 18.  He says, "as by the Spirit of the Lord,"
should  be  "as by the  Lord  the Spirit"—certainly a
stronger  mode of expression in confirmation of the
doctrine  of the Holy  Trinity.  The  words in the
Greek are  asro Ki^i'ou flrvsufjL«<ro£, which—the  preposi-
tion dirb governing the  genitive case—may mean, by
the Spirit of the Lord; or, by the Lord the Spirit.  The
true translation  will he  determined by ascertaining
which word—both being in the  genitive case—is pro-
perly governed  by the  preposition.    If the first  letter
of the  word msC^wrog  were  the Greek  capital  n—
which is not  the  fact in our editions—the argument
might be stronger.   The letter is  a  capital in our
English  version, the  Latin  Vulgate, and the French
version;  viz: by the  Spirit of  the  Lord—a  Domini
Spiritu—par  V.Esprit  du  Seigneur.   Whether the
letter be small, or a capital, in the original Greek, I do
not know.   But the discussion of this question belongs
to the biblical scholar.
   We should touch with great caution the Book which
has, for more than  two centuries, been the rule of faith
and practice to the  Protestant Christian wiio reads the
English language.   In  this instance, I had
          "------rather bear those  ills we have,
          Than fly to others that we know not of." 
KING JAMES' BIBLE.
153
  I hope it will be long—very long—before such men
as Bellamy and Burges will be  able to convince  that
portion of the Protestant  Christian  world which reads
the English language, that the "Reasons in favour of
a New Translation of the Scriptures," are so urgent as
to require that a new version should be made.
14 
 
ENGLAND IN 1841.
  The following article is taken from a London paper:
  "The  Whig Government.   Many persons  sup-
pose the  country, in dismissing the late government
from the  public service, has taken leave of them for-
ever.  By an  act passed 4 and 5 W.  IV,  c. 24, the
people pay the following very nice snug retiring pen-
sions upon the present quarterly deficient Consolidated
Fund:
  Lord Cottenham    ....    ^5,000
  Lord Melbourne.....2,000
  T. Baring, Esq.      ....    2,000
  Lord J. Russell   .....  2,000
  EarlMinto     .                        2,000
  Sir-J. G. Hobhouse    ....  2,000
  Right Hon.  H. Labouchere     .    .    2,000
  Lord Morpeth.....1,400
  Two Joint Secretaries of the Treasury     2,800
  Secretary to the Admiralty   .     .     .  1,400
  T. B. Maoaulay     ....    1,400
  Under Secretary of State, Clerk of the Ord-
    nance, Second Secretary of  the  Admi-
    ralty, Secretary of the  Indian  Board,
    each ^1,000   .....  4,000." 
]56             ENGLAND IN 1341.
  It is thus seen that the members of the late adminis-
tration of public affairs, on retiring from office, receive
pensions to the amount  of  twenty-eight  thousand
pounds sterling, paid by taxes imposed on the people
of England.  A ministry, turned out of office  by a
large majority, retire on pensions exceedingly eighteen
thousand dollars, twice the  amount paid annually to
the President of the United States and all the Heads
of Departments! This  example affords an illustration
that  the word  pension has been properly defined, An
allowance made to  any one without an equivalent.
  This is by no means a solitary case in the history of
England.   Officers  of the Civil Government,  Judges,
Governors of dependencies,  Commanders of armies,
and foreign Ambassadors, when they retire from posi-
tions where they were well remunerated for their ser-
vices, receive pensions which are paid by a tax-ridden
population.  This is occurring annually  in a  country
whose public debt is four thousand millions of dollars:
for the  payment of the interest on which,  about one
hundred and twenty-five millions  of dollars  are re-
quired.  Why  is not the  pension system  of England
abolished; or the money used as a fund to aid in paying
this enormous debt? This debt will never be paid.  It
will continue to accumulate  until the occurrence of
some mighty convulsion, when the people will arise in
their majesty and abolish the system  by which  they
have been oppressed: when oceans of blood drawn by
gleaming swords,  will, like the  deluge of Deucalion,
overwhelm the  existing privileged orders  in one uni-
versal ruin.  The swTord can sometimes pay off  debts, 
                 ENGLAND IN 1841.              157
 as well as  sever Gordian knots.   Let no one suppose
 1 advocate such  a payment of the  national debt of
 England.  I know how that debt has accumulated:
 sometimes in attempts at oppression,  as  in  the  two
 American wars; by the first of which it was increased
 ^■121,000,000: but often  in the defence of liberty
 against all-grasping ambition; as in the great contest of
 the present century, which, from 1793, to 1817, added
*o the debt ^609,000,000.   I am only stating what
 may occur.  Deucalion was ordered by the oracle of
 Themis to repair the effects of the deluge by throwing
 behind him  the  bones of  his grand-mother.   The
 people of a countiy over which rolling floods of revo-
 lution  shall have  passed,  and in which earthquakes
 shall have occurred—more desolating than that wiiich
 overwhelmed  the beautiful  valley  of Goldau—may
 adopt a plan  which would have some analogy to that
 of Deucalion.
  As  an illustration of the manner in which the no-
bility  of England are  often pampered by the lavish
distribution  of wealth  drawn from the public  coffers,
look at the case  of a  great man  of the present day.
 Do not suppose I would detract from the reputation of
this great soldier and  benefactor  of the world.   He
contended gloriously for his countiy  in India, and for
the world in the  Peninsula and at Waterloo; and  has
just claims to the gratitude of his  own nation, and the
homage of  the friends of freedom of  every land.   He
opposed his genius to the genius of the modern Scourge
of Nations, and the sceptre was wrested from the hands
©f him who was controlled by no  law but his own lust
       14* 
158             ENGLAND IN 1841.
of power.   He rolled back the mighty  flood  wiiich
threatened  to  sweep  liberty  from  Continental  and
Insular  Europe; and, after it  had accomplished that
work of desolation, wTould have passed the Ural Moun-
tains, overwhelming the kingdoms of Sapor, Timour,
and Zingis.   Allowing then, in the largest sense, the
obligations  of England to the occupant  of  Apsley
House,  was the gift of great  possessions  the  appro-
priate reward for his great services? Would it not have
been more honourable for him to have been  content
with the glory he acquired by the great deeds he had
accomplished for England and the world? Was  it in
keeping thus to increase the debt of the country, and
the taxes of the people? Cincinnatus has come down
to posterity with a  name more  illustrious  because,
having  delivered  Rome, he returned  to the plough
which he had left to lead her armies, than if his coun-
try had bestowred upon him splendid  palaces  and
extensive  domains.  Contrast  the position of  Wash-
ington  with  that of Wellington.   No one will deny
that he rendered equally important services to his coun-
try and the world.   For the  one, he  established her
independence in defiance of the efforts of her mighty
oppressor: and America produced the first written con-
stitution the world had ever known, proclaiming the
equality of man, liberty of speech,  of the press, and
of conscience; and thus constructed a model-govern-
ment which, by the force of example, has caused long
established thrones to rock to their foundations, and
will ultimately lead to the establishment  of universal
freedom.  When his work was accomplished, he re- 
                 ENGLAND IN 1841.             159
signed the power  which he might have  employed for
the subversion of the  fabric he  had reared; when,  in
imitation of other soldiers, he might have decorated his
brow with an imperial crown.   When the temptation
was presented to him he put it aside, but not with the
mock-moderation of Csesar; and he refused to receive
payment for the  time employed in such inestimable
services.   Centuries hence the name of Washington
will be pronounced with reverence wherever  freedom
shall live; when, perhaps, that of Wellington will only
be found on the page  of histoiy.
   The necessity for  supporting the Aristocracy is, I
know, the cause  of the extensive  pension  system of
England.   And, in further support of the same part of
their social system, whenever a Commoner performs
great  services, he is created an Earl, or a  Lord, or a
Knight; as if it were an admitted truth that greatness
should not exist beyond  the "charmed  circle" of the
nobility.   And thus  the  influence  of  distinguished
men is enlisted to support the existence of an order to
which themselves belong.  Was it ever designed by
the Great Father of us all, that a class of men, in any
countiy  should,  centuiy  after centuiy,  continue,
"booted and spurred, to ride over the people, by the
grace of God?"  And wiiat, as a mass, is this boasted
Aristocracy of  Europe?  I will answer in the words of
General Foy, in the French Chamber: "Aristocracy in
the 19th  century, is the league, the coalition, of those
wiio wish to consume without producing, live without
working, occupy all public places without being  com-
petent to fill them; seize upon all honours  without
meriting them; that is Aristocracy." 
160
ENGLAND IN IS41.
   If any  one wish to know the class  of men  who
are often received into the Aristocracy by the favour of
their King, and on whom the broad acres and precious
treasures of England are  bestowed, he has  only to
read the  history of the reigns of  Charles  II. and
William IV.   The "Great Commoner" wras a nobler
distinction  for William  Pitt than any title his King
could have conferred;  and Lord Brougham manifested
a momentary contempt of the peerage, when  he  once
said to the House of Lords that he wished they would
pass an act to unpeer him, that  he might resume his
professional pursuits in Westminster Hall—an employ-
ment which was not consistent with aristocratic etiquette,
or as long as he continued  a member of their House.
   This state of the social system of England  will not
always  continue to exist.   The public  mind is  now,
and has for some time been, intensely directed to the
inquiry,  whether  the  existence  of  such privileged
orders be consistent with the belief, that all men are
born equal and free:  whether individual merit be not
the only just foundation  for distinctions  in  society?
The progress of  such  inquiry  cannot be  arrested,
except by a despotism like that wiiich holds Poland in
chains,  and crushes  all  the noble aspirations of our
nature beneath the foot of its own iron power.   Such  a
despotism England is not destined  to  endure.   The
time may come when a fire—like that in our  Western
prairies—will be kindled in England, which will  burn
from the Cheviot Hills to the Straits  of Dover, and by
whose mighty  raging King and  Noble may alike be
consumed.   When Samson  awakes to a sense of his 
                 ENGLAND IN 1841.              \Q\
 condition, the cords by which he is bound are sundered
 as easily as the flax is burned by the flame.
   Why do  the  politicians and  political  writers of
 England continually predict the downfall of our institu-
 tions?  "The wish is father to the thought."   Why do
 they so eagerly seize an  opportunity  to comment on
 every instance  of   lynch-law—of  the  use  of  the
 Bowie  knife—of quarrels in  our  legislative  bodies?
 Are there not  wicked men, and men of  ungoverned
 tempers, in  eveiy country?   Why do they  interfere
 with our social institutions?  A writer, in a late article
 in the leading journal of Europe—the court-joumal of
 England—in case of  war between the two countries,
 advocates the  attempt to  array the  interests of the
 North against  those of the South.  What right have
 Englishmen to wage a  war of extermination against
 the  accidents of birth?  They contend for hereditary
 titles and privileges—distinctions derived  from birth,
 and, with few exceptions, unattainable  by those  not
 born to  them: and on these their social and civil insti-
tutions are based.  That  portion of our population is
more happy—better fed and clothed-—than millions of
the subjects  of  that "Power, which has dotted  over the
surface of the wiiole  globe with  her  possessions and
military posts; wiiose morning drum-beat, following
the sun, and keeping company with the  hours, daily
circles the  earth with  one  unbroken strain of  the
martial  airs of England."
  The  public  men   of  England have  sufficient  to
occupy  them  in  preserving  their own  institutions.
The operation of  the  Corn Laws has intensely excited
the publie mind.   It is stated  in  English papers, that 
162
EGLAND IN 1841.
the city of London pays daily =£20,000 more for bread,
than she would have to pay if the Corn Laws did not
exist.   Meetings of  the people in primary assemblies
are held, resolutions adopted, and petitions and remon-
strances addressed to the Queen and to  Parliament for
their  repeal.   If  the  constitutional remonstrances of
the people be disregarded, they  have   the power to
redress their wrongs, as they have done  in other days.
Charles I. and James II. experienced  the efficacy of
that mode of redress.   The  people of   England will
not submit to the continued operation of a system by
wiiich it is said, on high  authority, that twenty thous-
and of the  population of Great Britain are annually
hurried to premature death, and four hundred thousand
are now starving  in one manufacturing  district: a  sys-
tem designed, at the expense of starving  thousands,* to

  * The following details, which were presented at a "Meeting of
the Dissenting Ministers of London," held on the  24th of June,
1842, shew the distress which continues to prevail in England and
Scotland:
  "In Wigan, many families remain in bed during the day because
hunger is less intolerable when the sufferer is in  a recumbent posi-
tion.  In Accrington, in Lancashire, out of a population of  nine
thousand persons, not more than one hundred are fully employed.
Families are known to have subsisted many days on boiled nettles,
with a little meal sprinkled upon them. In Marsden, near Burnley,
out of five thousand persons, two thousand  have  become paupers,
and most of the remaining three thousand are on the verge of pau»
perism.  The poor's-rate is one  shilling in the pound per month.
  "Mr. Thompson fearlessly stated that there were at this moment
millions  who  were  in danger of perishing  from  absolute hunger.
There was a daily diminishing respect for the laws and constitution
of the country—a daily  diminishing  regard for  the rights of pro-
perty—and a growing feeling of despair.  He passed through Stock-
port lately; every second house was closed.  He  also visited  Bol- 
ENGLAND IN  1841.
163
support  the landed  interests, a great portion of  which
exists with the Aristocracy.   The United States could
supply with corn the starving artisans of Birmingham,
Sheffield, and  other manufacturing  districts of Great
Britain.   The great Valley of the Mississippi—extend-
ing from the Alleghanies to the Rocky Mountains, and

ton, and he was accompanied by a respected friend of his, who was
appointed to collect correct statistics of that town.  His friend said
he would  take him to none of the suffering people but  those who
were known to be deserving.  In the whole of their peregrinations,
they did  not  find a single blanket.  They only found any  thing in
the shape of food in two of the dwellings.  The people  would not
touch it until the  middle of the day, that they might put off the
cravings of hunger as long as possible.  They found many  of them
lying on the sacking; beds there were none.  Young girls, who, a
few months ago,  cheerfully rose in the  morning to go to the facto-
ries, were, with  the father, mother, grandfather, and sometimes
grandmother, all  starving together, huddled up in one corner of the
room.  He said to them, 'Why do you lie here?' and they answered,
'We are less afflicted with hunger when we lie down.'  This was
the state of Bolton; yet he did not hear an expression of murmuring
in one of them, or any allusion, Of a reprehensible kindj to obtain
relief.  He went  to Wigan, and he had not been in the town five mi-
nutes before the  Coroner sent him some depositions which he  had
taken at an inquest held on the body of a man who had died of abso-
lute starvation. The doctors had declared their belief that he  had died
of hunger; and, while he Was reading these depositions, a  messen-
ger came from a neighbouring village, and  said that a man  had just
died of absolute hunger, for he was seen the day before gnawing the
grass, scanty as it was, in the fields around.  He—Mr. Thompson—
had been in Glasgow, and was informed by a most respectable  and
worthy individual, that there were in that  city thousands  dying of
hunger.  Many of the  people were  patiently waiting  for death.
He had also visited Paisley—of that they had heard  enough.   He
had visited Huddersfield also, and from information he derived from
various sources, public and private, he came to the conclusion that
he was surrounded by a perishing population." 
164
ENGLAND IN 1841.
 from the Lakes to  the  Gulf of Mexico, comprising
 more than two-thirds of the land of the United States,
 and one twenty-eighth of that of the globe—has grain-
 growing regions sufficient  to  make her  what  the
 Northern  coast of Africa was in the days of Roman
 grandeur—the granary of  the  world.  America  has
 abundance of corn;  Great  Britain has  abundance of
 manufacturing labour; and we can give corn for labour.
 But, the operation of  the Corn  Laws paralyses  the
 arm of  the  English  manufacturer, and  defeats that
 wise and merciful ordinance of his  Creator,  In the
 sweat of thy face shalt thou eat  bread.  When  pressed
 by famine, Jacob sent his sons into Egypt to buy corn,
 "That we may live  and not die."  But England—
 more cruel than Pharaoh—refuses to let  her starving
 subjects buy the corn which the bountiful Earth gives
 from her fruitful bosom for her hungry children. This
 may be called protection of her agricultural interests.
 But it is not protection  for encouragement and  the
 public good: it  is protection attended with starvation
 and death.  Where—let  me  ask, in  contemplation of
 such instances of suffering thousands—Where is  the
 truth of the  boast of Englishmen, that, "The spirit of
 British law  makes  liberty  commensurate  with, and
 inseparable from, British soil: it proclaims even to the
stranger and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot
 upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads
is  holy, and consecrated  by the  genius of Universal
 Emancipation?"
   What is the position of England, at  this time, in
relation  to Scotland?   She is carrying on a contest 
ENGLAND IN 1841.
165
 with the Church of Scotland for the maintenance of a
 prerogative which Scotchmen will  never admit until
 there is no longer an  arm to  draw a sword.  The
 Church of Scotland declares, as a fundamental princi-
 ple of her Ecclesiastical Constitution, "That no pastor
 shall be intruded into any parish contrary to the will
 of the congregation; and that this  Church, as every
 Church of Christ, is free from secular control in the
 exercise of those powers of spiritual government and
 discipline which she has received from her great Head
 —powers which some are now attempting violently to
 wrest  from her,  because  they have  been  used  in
 defence of the rights of the Christian people."
  She further declares,  "That any attempt to have it
 established, as a fundamental principle, that the Civil
 Courts have jurisdiction in every case in which those
 Courts think fit to declare that temporal interests are in
 any  way involved,  is subversive of the government
 which  Christ  has appointed in his Church,  and  in
 direct opposition to the principles on which the present
 Ecclesiastical  Constitution, ratified  by the statutes of
 the realm, is founded."
  These resolutions are thus promulgated because the
patrons of the  Strathbogie parishes—a patronage which
is another of  the  means to  support  the Aristocracy
which  grasps even the Church—had intruded minis-
ters  against the wishes of the  congregations.  The
authorities of  the Church  deposed the  clergymen.
They appealed to the Civil Courts, and hence the con-
test which has  so intensely agitated Scotland.   If the
English ministry persist in their claims, a power which
       15 
166
ENGLAND IN 1841.
the Queen of Scots feared in John Knox alone, more
than an army of ten thousand  men—over whose grave
the eulogy was  pronounced, Here lies one who  never
feared the face of man—will aid the oppressed.   The
Presbyterians of Ireland,* the  Independents  of Eng-

  *The following sketch, from an address by James Gibson, Esq.
of Dublin, delivered ori the 10th of June, 1842, before the Bi-Cen-
tenary meeting in Dublin, assembled for the purpose  of commemo-
rating the organization and establishment of the Presbyterian Church
in Ireland, will not, as an historical record, be without  interest to
the reader:
  "In the course of a1 few years, from about the year 1609, there
arrived in the North a great number of families from  Scotland, and,
owing to the attempts made to introduce Prelacy into that country,
several ministers who were exposed to persecution there, on account
of their non-conformity,  caime Over to  Ireland, and found a tempo-
rary refuge in the rembteness Of the infant settlement.  The Scots
ministers for some time, during the reign of James, enjoyed undis-
turbed opportunity of labouring in their office.  The effects of their
ministration were soon apparent: and in the early years of Charles,
there appears to have sprung up  under their instrumentality the
most remarkable revival of religion, as if in token  of the  Divine
approval of their efforts.  When  Charles  succeeded to the  throne,
his attention was drawn to the rising importance of the Scots in
Ulster, and by the counsel of Laud, aided by Wentworth, measures
were soon taken in  Ireland to effect that conformity which was the
ill-fated project  of that monarch's unfortunate reign. Four of the
most eminent ministers  were shortly  silenced—Blair, Livingston,
Dunbar, and Welsh. The thirty-nine Articles  of the  Church of
England were adopted by the Irish Church, and, after a hopeless
struggle with Leslie, Bishop of Down,  a number of the Presbyterian
clergy, and about one hundred and forty of the laity, determined to
abandon the country, and emigrate to  New England.   In Scotland,
the affairs of the Church had  at the same time reached a crisis.  By
attempting to introduce the Canons and Book of Common Prayer,
the King had driven the people again to revive the Covenant of
1581, and, kindling  with the deepest enthusiasm, all Scotland bound 
ENGLAND IN 1841.
167
land, have expressed strong sympathies for the Church
of  Scotland,  and, in case of extremities, will, on com-

itself by solemn obligation to resist the imposition.  The Presby-
terians  of Ireland  were known to share  the  feelings  of  their
countrymen, and Wentworth, apprehensive of its manifestation, de-
termined to repress it by an act of bold but characteristic  policy.
He issued a proclamation commanding all above sixteen  years of
age to take an oath, by which they were to bind themselves not to
'protest against  any of the King's royal commands,  but  submit
themselves in all due obedience thereunto,'  and to abjure all cove-
nants and oaths contrary to the tenor of this engagement.  This
oath they  could not take without violating conscience, and they re-
fused compliance with  the unjust demand; and to their  refusal thus
to swear, and to the principle which that refusal involved—the same
principle  as that which was  affirmed in the Solemn League and
Covenant, the right of resistance to arbitrary power and to compul-
sory enforcement of religious belief—were those countries indebted
for all  that civil and  religious  liberty which is now  the  boasted
treasure of the British Constitution.  Throughout Ulster, this black
oath, as it was called, was rigorously enforced; but, rather than take
it, multitudes submitted to fine, imprisonment, and voluntary exile.
The execution of Strafford, which took place soon after this daring
act,  suspended their trouble;  and, as the English Parliament was
chiefly  composed of members favourable to  the Presbyterian in-
terest, their hopes began to brighten and revive.  In the  midst, how-
ever, of these  gladsome anticipations,  a storm arose in another
quarter, with rage  no less fearful, and nearly swept them all  away
before it.   The rebellion of  1641 broke  out, and, though providen-
tially discovered before its object was attained, yet scenes of mas-
sacre and  pillage  followed  which live  even  yet in  traditionary
recollection, and perpetuate the feelings  of deadly animosity and
distrust which they first engendered.   Yet even that event was over-
ruled; the previous tyranny of Wentworth had forced the ministers
to flee  to Scotland, where they were afterwards restored to their
people.  The rebellion introduced a Scottish army into  Ulster, and,
with its regiments, a band of chaplains—Scottish ministers—who,
on the first cessation of hostilities, erected elderships in  their several
regiments; and, having established  the  discipline of the Church of 
168
ENGLAND IN 1841.
mon principles, make it a common  cause.   Who are
the men against whom the ministry  declares this  war

Scotland, after the model of its best day3, held the first meeting of
Presbytery, regularly constituted, that ever took place in Ireland,
on that same  day two hundred years ago—on  Friday, 10th June,
1642."
  In 1642, the Irish Presbyterian Church  consisted of one Presby-
tery, and a few ministers.  In June, 1842, it numbered  thirty-three
Presbyteries,  four hundred and eighty-six ministers, and 700,000
Presbyterians.
  In continuation of this historical record, some statements—which
will not be without interest—in relation to the Presbyterian Church
in various parts of the world, are added.   They are part  of an ad-
dress delivered by Mr. Wm. Kirkpatrick, at the same Bi-Centenary
meeting:  "In Scotland, the Established Church, which is Presby-
terian, numbers nearly 1300 congregations.   In addition, there are
500 congregations of Dissenters who are Presbyterians.  In England
there are considerably above one hundred congregations; at one time
they were far more numerous; but owing, in a great  measure, to
their disuse of the peculiarites of the system of elders, sessions, and
presbyteries, they diminished in number, in purity of doctrine, and
in influence.  Recently a  great revival has  taken place:  their ses-
sions, presbyteries, and synods have been re-organized;  and, instead
of hanging, as hitherto, a mere appendage to the Church of Scotland,
they are about to be constituted the Presbyterian Church in England.
At their meeting of Synod, held a few weeks ago, it was proposed
to enter correspondence and communion with the  Welsh Calvinistic
Methodists, whose doctrines  were identical, and whose government
bore a close  affinity with their  own.  These  number upwards of
500 congregations.  In Holland there is a Presbyterian Church, with
1400 ministers, and a  constitution exactly similar to  that of the
Church  of Scotland.  In France there are at least 400 congrega-
tions which are  Presbyterian-^at one time they amounted to 2000,
but were reduced to their  present number by the fearful and pro-
longed persecution by which upwards of a million of its members
were driven from the kingdom, and of which they had a memorial
in the French Church, still standing in this  city, and in the  many
families of respectability still existing among them, descended from 
ENGLAND IN 1341.
169
 of prerogative? Lord Brougham, in a speech delivered
 some time since in the House  of Lords,  called  them,
 "A body of men to be held in lasting veneration for the
 unshaken fortitude with which, in all times, they have
 maintained their attachment to  civil liberty:  men  to
 whose ancestors  England will  ever acknowledge  a
 boundless debt of gratitude, as long as freedom is prized
 among us.  They, with the zeal of martyrs, the purity
 of the early Christians, the  skill and courage of the
 most renowned warriors, obtained for England  the free
 Constitution  she  now  enjoys."  And,  of the  same
 men, Hume the historian, with all his decided impres-
 sions in favour of absolute monarchy, says,  "The pre-
 cious spark  of  liberty  had  been  kindled,  and was
 preserved, by the Puritans alone; and it  is to this sect

 the French refugees.   In the Netherlands there exists a portion  of
 the French Reformed Church, termed the Walloon Church, Presby-
 terian in its constitution, and differing from the Church of Holland
 only in the use of the French language.  In Switzerland, also, the
 Protestant  Church is Presbyterian, and D'Aubigne, the author of
 the celebrated history of the Reformation, is a Presbyterian minis-
 ter.  In Prussia, in each of the ten  provinces into which the king-
 dom is divided, there is a consistory, composed partly of ecclesiastics
 and partly of laymen, for managing the internal concerns of the
 Church, and communicating with the Government by means of su-
perintendents, who are not, however, like the prelates of this coun-
try, considered as belonging to a distinct order of clergy, and  as
possessed of distinct powers, but are mere presbyters in ecclesias-
tical rank.  In Ameriea, the number of Presbyterian ministers  of
various religious bodies reaches 5000.  In Canada, in Nova  Scotia,
in the West Indies, in Ceylon, in New South Wales, in New Zealand,
the Presbyterian  Church is well known.  There are between two
hundred and three hundred ministers of the  Church of Scotland
labouring in the British colonies at the present moment."
        13* 
170
ENGLAND IN 1841.
the English owe the whole freedom of their Constitu-
tion."  In  entire accordance with these opinions of
illustrious men, the Rev. Thomas Scott, a distinguished
member  of the  English  Establishment,  says, "The
iree of liberty, sober and legitimate liberty,  civil and
religious, under the shadow of which we of the Estab-
lishment, as well as others,  repose in peace, and  the
fruit of which we gather, was planted by the  Puritans,
and watered,  if not by their blood, at least by their
tears and sorrows.  Yet  it is the modern fashion to
feed delightfully on the fruit, and then revile, if not
curse, those who planted and watered the tree."  Are
the descendants of such men to be forced, by the arm
of civil powrer, to abandon their principles? They have
most solemnly declared before Heaven and the Church,
that they will never relinquish their position.  If this
controversy be carried  to the extreme point, tihc Church
of England cannot escape without  agitation; because
such principles will,  on  investigation, address them-
selves to the reason of all dispassionate men, no mat-
ter how their opinions  may be entrenched behind habit
and education; and  they  will inquire into the right of
presentation to the parishes of the Establishment, irre-
spective of the consent of the people.   Should a civil
war ever be wraged in  Great Britain on such principles
and by such men, another Cromwell may appear, and
a King of England may  again ascend the scaffold and
lay his head upon  the block.  I do not wish to be
understood to affirm that the Ministers  of the Church
of Scotland contemplate a resort to  arms for the  re-
dress of her wrongs.  Their present purpose—if the 
                  ENGLAND IN 1841.              j«j
 civil power continue to invade her rights—is to retire
 from the Establishment.  But the people of Scotland
 will make common cause with their Church; and, in
 the progress of events—estranged as they will be from
 the Government  of England—the  time may  arrive
 when the popular discontent cannot be controlled by
 holy men, whose message is peace.  Is it not then true
 that  England has sufficient cause to be occupied at
 home, without interfering with the social and civil in-
 stitutions of other nations?
   The spirit of the age is, inquiry; and such employ-
 ment of the  human mind will  inevitably lead to the
 establishment .of civil and  religious liberty.  "Chris-
 tianity,"" says Dewitt Clinton, "is in its essence, its doc-
 trines,  and  its forms,  republican.  It  teaches  our
 descent from a common pair; it inculcates the natural
 equality of mankind; it points to our origin and  our
 end,  to our nativity, our graves, and our immortal
 destinies, as illustrations of this impressive truth."  In
 proportion as the  spirit of Christianity prevails and
 extends, the influence of the republican spirit will be
 enlarged.  It has been said by a writer of the present
 day,  that, The Representative  system, and public
 opinion conveyed  by the press and  the  deliberative
 assemblies, will predominate before the expiration of
 this centuiy, in all the royalties; inot, perhaps, without
 dreadful struggles  between the monarchical  preten-
sions and common wealth rights and  energies.   It  is
 for  the  United States  to verify and recommend the
ancient  maxim, That is the best government in which, 
172
ENGLAND IN 1841.
with free institutions, the magistrates obey the constitu-
tion and laws, and the people the magistrates.*

  *Since the commencement of the contest with the  Church  of
Scotland—and she  has  received  testimonies  of sympathy  and
encouragement from England,  Ireland,  Switzerland, Prussia, and
America^-the difficulties  of the English Government  have been
increased by the controversy with the Irish Presbyterian Church,
caused by the law relative to the legality of marriages,  solemnized
by Presbyterian clergymen, between  Episcopalians and members
of the Presbyterian community in Ireland,  The law is retrospective,
as well as prospective; and thus it unsettles a practice which has pre-
vailed in Ireland for two centuries.   The question not only involves
the legality of such marriages, but also opens  the ulterior  one  of
the meaning of holy orders.   This  case has been decided, in favour
of Presbyterianism, by the Court of Queen's Bench; and will go, for
final decision, before the  House of Peers. 
DAVID BRAINERD.
   "How awful is goodness!" is a sentiment suggested
by the contemplation of the character of an eminently
holy and devout man.  It has been said that,such are the
beauties of Virtue, if she were to descend from heaven
and  assume human  form, all men would fall down
and  worship her.   Such has not always been the
homage of the wrorld.  Virtue  assumed  the  form of
humanity when the Divine Teacher came down from
heaven; and  the cry was,  Crucify him, Crucify him.
Other men have lived who would have voted with the
Athenian for the banishment of Aristides, because they
were  tired of hearing  him styled, The  Just.  The
explanation of this exhibition of  human depravity, is
derived from the  reproof which  an  eminently  holy
life administers to  those wiio  place their happiness in
worldly pursuits,  and  sensual  indulgences.   Such
men may have a feeling of respect and admiration for
holiness; but, there is a principle of repulsion within
them wrhich prevents  them from  loving that, wiiich,
by its inherent excellence, constrains  their homage.
  Biography is history teaching by example; and  has
always been a favourite study with the Christian, and
the scholar.   It has been observed that a man improves 
174             DAVID BRAINERD.
more by reading the life of a person eminent for pru-
dence and virtue, than by the finest rules and precepts
of morality.  No uninspired writings have a  greater
tendency to excite  holy emotions,  than well written
lives of eminently  devout  Christians.  In addition to
this, one  of  the most convincing  evidences  of  the
truth of the Christian system,  is derived from the life
of a good man.  The majority of mankind think,
and  speak, and  act, as if  the  present state of  being
limited  the exertion  of their  greatest  powers, and
claimed the engrossment of their warmest  affections.
The man of pleasure, the soldier, the statesman, and
the scholar, pursue their objects of desire with refer-
ence to the term of three-score and  ten years; as if
that were  the  whole of the life of man.   The tran-
sient emotions of a different character which  may be
casually  excited—-like the lightning which  shews the
way to the traveller—are followed by deeper darkness.
They call themselves Christians, because such  is the
faith of the land in which they were bom.   They do
not examine into the truth of the evidences of Revela-
tion.  But the example of  a holy man compels them
to inquire into the truth of the system by wrhich his
actions are prompted and  sustained.  Thus Brainerd
proved the sincerity of his  faith by the purity  and
devotedness of his  life: the only true evidences a man
can give to others of his belief in the doctrines of the
Bible.
   Alexander thought Achilles most fortunate in having
Homer  to  perpetuate  the  memory of his deeds  in
immortal  song.  Brainerd—the  holiest missionary, if 
DAVID BRAINERD.
175
not the holiest man, of modem times—has found a
worthy biographer  in one who is considered by many
as the greatest man of his  age.   President Edwards
could not have performed a more useful service than
when he  placed  before  the  Christian  public  the
memoirs  of a man  who has exercised such influence
over modem  missionaries.  I am not an admirer of
many of the  numerous biographies  of the  present
day.  Although  the subjects of  them  may have been
devoted Christians, there was nothing sufficiently dis-
tinctive  in their characters or actions to require the
presentation of their written lives.  This  is too fre-
quently  the mode  by  which friends manifest  their
partiality  for those who are taken  from them: the
memory of whose virtues would, with more propriety,
be perpetuated in the hearts of those with whom they
lived, and by whom they were loved.
  A century has passed since the death of Brainerd;
but, his name is as familiar with the present  genera-
tion as household words.  The honour bestowed  upon
the woman who  poured the box of precious ointment
upon the head of Jesus, has become the  distinction of
this holy  man.  Wherever the Gospel shall be preached
in the whole world, his deeds shall be told for a me-
morial of him.   In early life, he became the  subject
of  religious convictions which  ended in  an entire
change of character.  He was  a most  distinguished
member of Yale College, from which he was expelled
as a punishment for an indiscreet remark in relation to
a member  of the Faculty—made under peculiar cir-
cumstances during a time of deep and extensive religious 
176
DAVID BRAINERD.
 excitement.  At the age of twenty-four he began to
 preach to others the truths of that divine  system, the
 influence of which he had so deeply felt.  He passed
 the remaining years of his life as a missionary among
 the Indians of Pennsylvania,  New York,  and New
 Jersey.  He died in 1747, at Northampton, Massachu-
 setts,  at the house  of President Edwards, when in the
 thirtieth year of his age.   With the exception of the
 Father of his Country, no man has died within a cen-
 tury,* over whose grave I would stand with feelings of
 respect and admiration so profound, as  that of David
 Brainerd.
   Brainerd was a man of remarkable intellectual  en-
 dowments.  His invention was ready; his eloquence
 natural, with great facility of expression; and he com-
 bined sprightly apprehension  with strong  memory;
 close  and clear thought with admirable judgment.   He
 possessed great  knowledge of human  nature, with
 clearness in communicating his thoughts, and the talent
 of accommodating  himself, in all his efforts, whether
 from the pulpit or in conversation, to the capacity and
 circumstances  of those  he wished  to instruct.   His
 disposition was  eminently social, and his conversation
 entertaining and instructive—remarkable for the ability
displayed in defending truth and Confuting error.  Per-
haps  no uninspired man  eyer  excelled  him in pure
and undefiled  religion.  Purity,  self-denial, benevo-
lence  in its largest sense, humility, devotion, and dead-
ness to the world, were conspicuous in his daily life.
  •John Eliot, the  Apostle to the Indians—a man who has claims
on the homage of the human race—lived a century before Brainerd. 
DAVID BRAINERD.
17*/
Holiness and heaven were objects of his  warmest de-
sire; prayer was the very breath of his  life; and he
passed years of laborious self-denial among  the  red
children of the woods, making himself familiar with
all their wants, and thus securing their affection; "In
joumeyings often, in perils by the heathen, in perils in
the wilderness, in weakness and painfulness, in watch -
ings often, in hunger and thirst, in  fastings  often, in
cold and nakedness."  He prepared for  himself sim-
ple dwellings among those poor heathen,  to which he
retired when  nature would sustain no  greater  toil:
having no companion but that God with whom Enoch
walked;  no friend but Him who sent the widow and
the ravens to support Elijah.   Does the reader desire        /
to be informed as to the causes which can lead a man
to make such sacrifices and endure such privations and
toils? Let  him  receive the answer in the words of
Francis Xavier, than whom a man  of  nobler  mould,
or of more  exalted magnanimity has never lived.   "If
those lands" said the Apostle of the  Indies, when his
friends would dissuade him from visiting the islands of
the  Indian Archipelago, "If those lands  had scented
woods and  mines  of  gold,  Christians  would  find
courage to go there; nor would all the  perils of  the
world prevent them.   They are dastardly and alarmed,
because there is nothing to be gained there  but  the
souls of men.   And shall love be less hardy  and less
generous than avarice? They will destroy me, you say,
by poison.   It is an honour to which such a sinner as
I am may not aspire; but, this I dare to say, that, what-
ever form of torture or of death awaits me, I am ready
       16 
178              DAVID BRAINERD.
to suffer it ten thousand  times for the salvation of a
single  soul."   Such was  the  heroic language of a
man, who, at the age of forty-seven, and  after passing
ten years in  missionaiy labours,  sank under disease,
privation, and toil;  and, exclaiming, In  te, Domine,
speravi; non confundar in ceternum! "bowed his head
and died."
  Brainerd's knowledge of theology was extensive and
accurate; particularly in all that relates to  experimental
religion.   President Edwards says, "I never knew his
equal,  of his  age and standing, for clear, accurate no-
tions of the nature  and essence of true  religion, and
its distinctness from its  various  false appearances."
Truth, says Milton, is the daughter, not of time but
of heaven; only bred up here below in Christian hearts,
between  two grave and holy nurses—the  doctrine and
discipline of the Gospel.
  With such qualifications, it causes no surprise that
the labours of  Brainerd were eminently successful; and
that his moral wilderness budded and blossomed as the
rose.   He was only the agent; the power came from
above.   "Son of man, can these bones live?" Not
until the Lord God saith;  "Come from the four winds,
O breath! and breathe upon these slain that they may-
live."  Brainerd  taught his Indians to  discard their
belief in a heaven consisting of green  fields, and flow-
ing streams, and pleasant hunting grounds, with their
faithful dogs  for  their  companions*  They believed,
with him, in a heaven where God shall wipe away  all
tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death,
neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any
more pain: for the former things are passed away. 
DAVID BRAINERD.
179
  Brainerd and his biographer were, in early life, re-
markable  examples of that kind of conviction which
results in many of the appearances of true conversion;
but, where subsequent experience proves that the work
was incomplete.   The reader who wishes to see striking
illustrations of the extent to  which the unregenerate
heart may go, in emotions and the performance of acts
of devotion, will be interested with the memoirs of
these two eminent men.   Similar cases are by no means
uncommon.  A Christian education, and  the example
of pious parents, combined with various other circum-
stances, may  produce feelings and actions difficult to
be distinguished from those prompted by true religion;
when, subsequently, as in these two instances, convic-
tions  of a  different kind are experienced.  Much of
their deep knowledge of  the human heart, as the sub-
ject of religious emotions, was derived from the expe-
rience of  their  early  lives; and, hence,  the peculiar
qualifications they possessed for directing  the inquiries
of others  to a discovery  of their true spiritual condi-
tion.  The work of Edwards on Religious Affections,
stands without  a rival in any uninspired age of the
world.
  The melancholy of Brainerd  was a defect in his
character, as  is  admitted by  his biographer; and was
acknowledged by himself towards  the  close of his
useful life.  This was his natural  temperament; and
the constitutional infirmity was increased  by his want
of a missionary companion during the five years he
lived among the Indians.  In addition to this, he had
a deep and abiding conviction of the importance  of 
180
DAVID  BRAINERD
the  mission to which he had devoted his powers and
his life.  There  was  an abandonment of self;  a con-
stant son-owing for the blindness and miseries of man;
an hourly desire to excite the sinner to a sense of his
condition; an ardent longing to live, daily, in the unin-
terrupted enjoyment of that high communion with his
Maker which  belongs only to heaven.   And, because
clouds  sometimes  concealed  the  blessed  light,  he
mourned as one without hope.   He did  not consider
that the darkness of night adds new charms to the re-
turning day; that the snows  and cold of winter prepare
for the  more beauteous appearance of verdant Spring.
This melancholy, arising from deep impressions, is not
peculiar to the Christian.   Lucius  Cary*—the "god-

  *Lucius Cary, Viscount Falkland, took sides with  the  party of
Hampden in the early period of the contest between Charles I. and
Parliament.  But  he was one  of those with whom  a reaction took
place, on account of  what they deemed the excessive  attacks
on the royal prerogative; and he became, with Clarendon and others,
a Constitutional Royalist.   He fell, while fighting in the King's
army, at  the battle of Newbury.  In illustration of the  part of his
character referred to in the text, I make the following extract from
Hume: "Devoted to the pursuits of learning,  and to the society of
all the polite and elegant, he had enjoyed himself in every pleasure
which a fine genius,  a generous disposition, and an  opulent fortune
could afford.  In publie life he displayed that masculine eloquence,
and undaunted love of liberty,  which he had imbibed lrom  his inti-
mate acquaintance with the  sublime  spirits of antiquity.  Still
anxious for his country, he seems to have dreaded the too prosperous
success of his own party, as mueh  as that of the enemy; and, among
his intimate friends, often, after a deep silence and frequent sighs, he
would, with a sad accent, reiterate  the word, Peace.  From the com-
mencement of the  war, his natural cheerfulness and vivacity became
clouded; and even his usual attention to dress, required by his birth
and station, gave way to negligence.  On the morning of the day 
DAVID BRAINERD
IS1
like Falkland," of Pope, the accomplished, the brilliant,
the gay cavalier—during  the civil war mourned  over
the miseries of his country;  and on the morning of
the day which saw  him laid  low in battle, as if with
a deep presentiment  of  his  fate, he  cried, "Peace!
Peace!"  Another parallel may be found, wiien, on the
morning of his  last battle, Falkland adorned  himself
in his most splendid military costume,  and then threw
himself into the thickest of the fight, as if he courted
death.  Brainerd  took the "breast-plate of righteous-
ness, the shield of faith,  the helmet of salvation, and
the sword of the Spirit;" and then,  forgetting that the
missionary  who takes  proper  care  of  his health, will
live longer and  accomplish more work, he was prodigal
of life.  This was no less a fault  with the devoted
Christian missionary, than with the brilliant  British
soldier.
   The memoirs of Brainerd  may be  read with profit
by every Christian.  Almost  every page is filled with
aspirations after holiness and heaven.  He was a "de-
vout man,  and full of the Holy Ghost."  Read the
account of  his closing scene, abounding  with spiritual
joy:  "My heaven is to please God,  to glorify him, to
give all  to him,  to be wholly devoted to his glory.
That is the heaven  I long for; that is my religion; that
in which he fell, he shewed some care in adorning his person, be-
cause, as he said, he-believed he would fall in battle; and he did not
wish his person to be found in  a slovenly condition.  I am weary of
the times,  he  said, and foresee much misery to my country."  He
died at the early age of thirty-four.  His death, and that of Hamp-
den which occurred two months earlier, in 1643, were unfortunate
events for England.
       16* 
182
DAVID BRAINERD.
is my happiness; and all those who are of that religion
will meet me in  heaven."  "I do not go to heaven to
be advanced, but to give honour to God.  It is no mat-
ter where I shall be stationed in heaven, whether I
have a high or low seat there; but I go to love, and
please, and glorify God.  If I had a thousand souls, I
would give them all to him; but I have nothing to give
when all  is done.   It is impossible for any rational
creature to be happy without acting all for God.  God
himself could not make me happy in any other way."
"I long to be in heaven, praising and  glorifying God,
with the holy angels; all my  desire is  to glorify God.
There  is nothing in the  world worth  living for,  but
doing good and finishing God's work; doing the work
that Christ did.  I see  nothing else in the world that
can  yield  any  satisfaction,  besides  living  to God,
pleasing him, and doing his whole will.  I am almost
in eternity; I long to be there; I shall soon be with the
holy angels; Jesus will  come, he will not tarry; death
is  what I long for;  O, why is his chariot so long in
coming!"  Such raptures the wealth of the Indies could
not purchase: in comparison with them, the treasures
and honours of the world are without value.
  The names of the heroes  of the earth live in story
and in song: and men are taught to admire their deeds,
notwithstanding  they may  have left the  countries
through which they marched, like the  stillness of  the
land over which the whirlwind has passed—dreary and
desolate: themselves unaffected by the anguish of  the
suffering, or the lamentations for the dead.   They have
had their day of glory; and the light of civilization, with 
DAVID BRAINERD
183
the progress of Christianity, will blot out their fame
from the memory of man.   But the name of this Indian
Missionary will never die.   When the heralds of salva-
tion shall have circled the earth, and, meeting from the
North  and the South, from the East and the West,
shall join in the joyous exclamation, The  kingdoms of
this w'orld have become the kingdoms of our Lord and
of his  Christ, thousands  will "rise up and call  him
blessed." 
 
MAY THE FOURTEENTH, 1841
        "How soon the dawn, that shone so bright,
          Is deeply veiled in silent gloom!
        How soon a Nation's hope and light
          Sink in the darkness of the tomb!"
                                     Percival.
  The expression of the emotions of our nature, when
they are excited by causes which involve the interests
and  affections  of communities,  cannot be repressed.
So  the streams which flow under ground—concealed
in their existence from our observation—however  far
and silent they  may pursue their course, at length find
a vent through which they empty into the rivers, and
contribute to swell the  immeasurable volume of the
great ocean  of waters.   When  the  fountains of the
great deep were broken up, the  resistless flood  over-
spread the earth.   The  fountains of the great deep of
popular emotion have been broken up by a blow from
the same Almighty hand, and the voice of  lamentation
has  been  heard  from every section  of our  country.
The  Henchman of other days  obeyed the command
of his chieftain; and,  bearing the fiery cross,  with the
lightning's speed, over river, mountain, and valley, ex-
cited the clansmen from their repose.   So now Death
on his pale horse, having received his  commission, has 
186
MAY FOURTEENTH, 1841
executed his work; and the emblems of mourning have
been spread in every valley, and have floated on every
mountain-top.  The streets of our populous  cities—
clothed with  sable vesture—have given signs  of woe,
indicating that a people  mourned.  And yet we have
heard no murmuring words; but  the Nation bowrs the
head in profound submission to the will of the great
I AM.
  "A great man has fallen in  Israel!" was the expres-
sive lamentation of  the son of Jesse over the death of
Abner.  A greater than  the Captain of David has, in
the maturity of his days  and his honours, fallen in our
Israel: and the whole Nation will this day assemble to
express their submission  to the will of the Great Dis-
poser; and  to manifest their regard for the memory of
him who was a Father to his country.   The Jewish
Lawgiver  led  his people out from the  bondage  of
Egypt: and, having  been their guide during  the forty
years they wandered in the wilderness, he halted in the
land of Moab, on the banks of Jordan.  He was there
commanded to ascend the top of Pisgah, and behold
the land which had been promised  as the reward and
the resting place for his long tried nation.  Having ac-
complished his  mission he was gathered to his people.,
and the children of Israel wept for Moses in the plains
of Moab thirty days.  So The Good President  of
these United States—after a long and weary pilgrimage,
during which he devoted all his energies to the service
of his country—ascended  the  top of  the  political
Pisgah; and, having surveyed  from that elevation  the
land which has been given to us for a possession, he 
              MAY FOURTEENTH, 1841.           i£7
obeyed the  divine commandment,  and now sleeps
with his fathers.
   When Samuel died, all the Israelites were gathered
together and  lamented him at Ramah.   In like man-
ner our People will be gathered together this day: but^
our lamentations  will be accompanied with our confi-
dence in that Being who provided the son of Nun as
the successor of  Moses;  and who did not leave his
people without a  guide, when his Prophet was trans-
lated from the plains of Jericho in a chariot of  fire.
   It is indeed a most beautiful and sublime spectacle
that is  this  day  presented to the world.  Seventeen
millions of  freemen—without regard to political  dis-
tinctions,  or  religious creeds—having sustained a na-
tional bereavement, assemble in temples dedicated to
the service of  the  living God; and, by their  acts of
most  solemn worship, acknowledge the great  truth,
that there is a Being who controls the destinies  of Na-
tions.    We do not find in our country a state of national
feeling similar to that produced, in part, by the writings
of the sage of Ferney, when the taste of a nation was
corrupted, and profligacy did not seek  concealment;
when infidelity, like  the leprosy, infected the land;
when Reason,  in the person of  a woman, was  en-
throned and  worshipped as a Deity.   And what was
the result of  this  national infidelity? The  horrors of
the Revolution overwhelmed France, like the outpour-
ing of the vials of the wrath of Heaven.  The guillo-
tine and lamp post claimed their thousands of victims;
and devastating war hurried to premature death hun-
dreds  of thousands of the  chivalry of France, taken 
188          MAY FOURTEENTH, 1841.
 from her populous cities, her vine clad hills, and her
 green valleys—leaving their bones to whiten on every
 battle-field of Europe, or covering them deep with the
 snows of Russia, or  sinking  them far beneath the
 waters of the Berezina.  Had  it not  been for the in-
 terposition of that Great Being whom we  this day
 worship, the spirit of  Christianity, and the genius of
 Liberty had alike expired amidst such scenes of infi-
 delity, misery, devastation, and  blood.
   The recommendation of the President of the United
 States to set apart this day for  Fasting, Humiliation,
 and Prayer—the fourth* time  in the history of our
 countiy that the recommendation of such an observance
 has proceeded from our National Executive—has been
 received with  the most cordial approbation  by all
 classes of citizens.   We are a religious people.  Our
 ancestors expended their treasures, and shed their blood
 in the defence of religion  and  liberty.  When  they
 were not allowed to worship their Creator in temples
 built by the  hands of  man, they retired to the moun-
 tain-sides; and, in the primeval simplicity and freedom
 of Nature, made  the valleys resound with the  praises
 of the Great  Jehovah.   When the persecuting arm of
 civil power reached them there—trusting to the guid-
 ance of Him who made the stars to direct the mariner
 —they crossed the pathless  ocean, and landed on these
 shores: and,  under their culture,  the  wilderness has
  *In 1789 President Washington, by request of the two Houses of
 Congress, recommended a day for public religious service and thanks-
giving.  The elder President Adams issued a proclamation for the
observance of a fast: and President Madison, during  the late war
 with Great Britain, recommended a fast throughout the Union. 
              MAY FOURTEENTH, 1841.          jgg

budded and blossomed as the rose.  The same spirit
animated  our fathers in the conflicts  of those days
which gave to us our national existence: and, when that
spirit shall have  ceased to animate their children, an
end will have arrived for the enjoyment of those bless-
ings  which  they purchased with  their blood.  The
ceremonies of this day give evidence of the existence
of that principle, as a national feeling, which will en-
sure  the  transmission  of our  institutions  to  unborn
generations.   We mourn the  removal of one, who,
while he was  exalted, was also good.   But, wiiile we
mourn, we humble ourselves with fasting and prayer;
and,  as we contemplate this forcible illustration of the
emptiness of all earthly glory, we bow in submission
to that Great Supreme whose right it is to reign.   That
was  a magnificent and solemn  spectacle, when the
body of Louis XIV.—surrounded by the  nobility of
the realm—was  placed in the Cathedral Notre-Dame,
with  the  drapery of mourning  on every side; and
Massillon arose,  and, with flowing vestments, and up-
lifted arms, and bowed head, exclaimed, God only is
Great.
  It was a saying of one of the sages of former times,
that no man should be called happy before his death.
We  have styled him  whose departure we this day
mourn, The  Good: and, if we  adopt  the opinion of
Solon, we may  now call him, The Happy.   Death
has placed her final seal on  his actions and his fame;
and, in that hallowed sanctuary where he now sleeps,
he is safe from the strife of men.   He commenced his
life in the  service of his country: and, after having led
      17 
190          MAY FOURTEENTH, 1841.
her armies  and conquered her enemies, he added the
laurels of a statesman to the trophies of a soldier.  In
imitation of heroes of other  days, whose names still
live in the  greenness of youth, he retired from public
life to the banks of the Ohio, without pollution on his
hands, or corruption in his heart.   He was called from
this honourable retirement by the voice of his country;
and,  having marched to the Capitoline  height, amidst
the gush of national  enthusiasm  and the flood of na-
tional joy, in a triumphal procession—more imposing
than any that ever  graced the return of Roman  con-
queror to the Eternal City—he there, in the presence
of the God of Nations, swore to preserve her Constitu-
tion.   From  Cincinnati to "the distant Capitol, his
step  was one triumphal arch, whose keystone was the
unbought voice of myriads: whose buttresses w7ere the
aspirations and blessings of all hearts.  Those hours of
enthusiasm in the life of the nation soon passed: for
the fine old man went out like a victim to the altar—
crowned with flowers,  but marching to the grave."
Before the shouts which rent the air—the  voluntary
expression of the heart-felt love and joy of freemen—
had died upon the  distant mountain-tops of our land,
he closed his eyes  on all earthly glory as he calmly
placed his head on the pillow of death: and the sable
car,  and the muffled drum,  and the mournful array,
bore him to that sacred sanctuary  which has been ap-
pointed as the final resting-place for the great family of
man.  The ambitious  statesman  and soldier—whose
souls pant for glory—as they stood by and looked into
that  opening sepulchre, might have adopted  the im- 
             MAY FOURTEENTH, 1841.         1QJ
pressive words spoken by Burke when, during an ex-
citing canvass,  he heard of the  sudden death of his
political rival, "What shadows we are!  What shadows
we pursue!"  The glare of worldly distinctions con-
ceals from our view the true nature of man, and of his
honours: but, the shroud, the coffin, the mattock, and
the spade, prompt us to exclaim,  "The grave is mine
house: I have made my bed in darkness.  I have said
to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou
art my mother, and my  sister."  So  the lightning
which flashes along the horizon, dazzles the eyes of
the beholder; but, when it has passed, leaves him sen-
sible of the "darkness visible"—"darkness which may
be felt."
   Gen. Harrison was a soldier—a patriot—a statesman.
But,  the  crowning glory  of his character  has been
more particularly disclosed since his death—he was a
Christian; and his Country may be consoled by the
consideration  of those sublime words of inspiration, I
am the resurrection and the life.  On this day the en-
tire population  of our  Country will  assemble and
humble themselves  in  the  presence of the Ruler of
Nations, who, in infinite wisdom, has taken from us
one whom we honoured while living, and whom we
mourn when dead.  If his  countiy  do not erect  a
monument to his memory, his name will go down to
posterity.  By the glorious deeds he performed for her
he has erected a memorial of his fame, more lasting
than monumental marble. 
 
JULY THE FOURTH, 1842.
  The celebration of birth-days  has  always been  a
favourite custom with our race.   On  such occasions,
children assemble around the parental  board, and look
with  reverence upon their grey-haired sires; and the
grey-haired sire,
       "Beneath his old hereditary trees—
       Trees which in youth he oft had climb'd—he sees
       His children's children gather'd round his knees."
Nations celebrate the  birth-days of those who have
guided them to the possession of liberty; and manifest
their  appreciation of the blessings of freedom  by the
affection with which they cherish the memory of those
by whom  it  was bestowed.   But how grand is the
spectacle when  the birth of a Nation is celebrated by
seventeen  millions  of freemen!   There  was  moral
sublimity in  the  act of Brutus, when—believing that
he  had secured  liberty for  Rome by the death  of
Caesar—he raised his arm, and shook his crimsoned
sword, and hailed the Father of his country:  but  it
was the last blow that was struck for freedom; and the
chains of  the slave  were more firmly riveted by the
ineffectual attempt to break them.    We this day com-
       17* 
194
JULY FOURTH, 1842.
memorate the successful efforts of heroes, and the birth
of a Nation.
   On the  fourth of July,  1584, two English  ships
appeared in sight of the coast of this Continent, and
afterwards  took possession  of a portion of  it in  the
name of the  Crown of England; "In the right of the
queene's most excellent majestie,  as rightful  queene
and princesse of the same."   England was thus un-
consciously preparing a refuge for freedom when  she
should depart as an  exile  from  her own shores; and
the Anniversary of the  arrival is now celebrated, not
as  that  of the origin,  but of the  downfall  of  her
American powrer.
   Two centuries have passed since  the  Long Parlia-
ment of England appointed a joint Committee  of
Lords and Commons to inquire into, and report on,
the state of the nation.   The immortal  John Hamp-
den*—a noble representative of  England at the birth
  * George Washington and John  Hampden are among the few in-
stances of great men who "neither sought nor shunned greatness;
who found glory  only because glory lay  in the path of duty."
Hampden was a most distinguished parliamentary debater and man-
ager, a statesman, and a  soldier.  The  motto he  used as a device
was, Vestigia nulla retrorsum.  His  mind was "healthful and well
proportioned; willingly contracting  itself to the  humblest duties;
easily expanding itself to the highest; contented in repose; powerful
in action."  He possessed, says an eloquent English writer, "That
sobriety, that self-command, that  perfect soundness of judgment,
that entire  rectitude of intention,  to which the history of revolu-
tions furnishes no parallel, or furnishes a parallel in  Washington
alone." His virtues and talents, his valour and accomplishments,
made him the greatest and most popular man in England.  Hume, a
royalist historian, describes him as being distinguished by "affabi-
lity in conversation; temper, art, and eloquence in debate; penetra- 
JULY FOURTH, 1842.
195
of all  the  liberty of modern times—was at the head
of the Committee of the Commons who brought into
the  House  the "Grand Remonstrance."   The fire
kindled by Hampden and his associates has never been
extinguished; and, when the  vestal vigilance  which
guarded  the sacred trust was not allowed  the  undis-
turbed discharge of its  functions in  the land of its
birth,  it  was brought to the New  World, where an
altar could  be erected on which the fire and  the in-
cense  might burn forever.
  Who,  even at the  distance of sixty-six  years, can
contemplate the deeds of 1776, without being filled
with admiration?  The government of an Empire on
whose possessions the sun never went down, oppressed
three millions of people, and the spirit of Hampden
revived within them.   They spurned the  rod  of the
oppressor, and made declaration to the world, that they
were  prepared to  contend  for the possession  of that
freedom  which  was the  gift of the God who made
them.  And they were not the men to  abandon their
determination because of the attendant  trials.   They
were  descended from  those who wrere driven by the
pains and penalties of persecution to seek an asylum
where they might worship the God of their fathers ac-
cording to  the dictates of their  owTn consciences—the
tion and discernment in counsel; industry, vigilance, and enterprise
in action."  If he had lived, he would have commanded the army
of Pailiament; and that might have made the Civil War a still
greater blessing to England.  Hampden and Cromwell were equally
"capable of gaining the victory" for England: but Hampden was
"incapable of abusing that victory when gained."  He died in 1643,
at the age of forty-nine. 
196            JULY FOURTH, 1842.
inherent and inalienable right of eveiy human being:
who escaped the fires of Smithfield by encountering
the dangers of the ocean;  who landed on the shores of
a countiy whose woods were filled with  savage beasts,
and more savage  men; who built  humble dwellings
from wiiich they offered  their ardent homage to the
God of Israel who had protected them by his pillar of
cloud, and guided them by his pillar of  fire; of whose
temples the everlasting hills and mighty oaks were the
columns, and the star-decked heaven the canopy.   At
the time  they commenced the contest we cannot sup-
pose  they had  a view of  half the glories of the land
of promise  to which they were  to  guide  the nations.
When the Prophet sent his servant to the top  of Car-
mel, he discovered a little cloud  arising out of  the sea,
like a man's hand.  But  this little cloud was the pre-
cursor of a great  rain which clothed the earth with
verdure, and relieved the  famine of a nation.  So the
little cloud which appeared in '76 has enlarged until
the heaven is black with a covering which promises to
overspread the  earth.  The famine of despotism shall
not always prevail.  The victim of  power, of every
land and in every clime, the iron of whose captivity
"enters into his soul," would  laugh at  the  tyrant's
frown and  dance  in his chains, as he shook them "in
transport and rude harmony," if he could hear the ten
thousands of Paeans which  this day ascend from the
hearts of the free to the God of  the oppressed.   Here,
the Morning Star of Liberty has arisen upon  the na-
tions; and, we  believe the  time will come when its
light will visit  every dark habitation:  when  its power 
JULY FOURTH, 1842.
197
will strike the galling chain from every captive's arm;
wrest the merciless lash  from every oppressor's grasp;
and  man  stand forth  in all the native .dignity of his
nature, "regenerated, redeemed, and disenthralled."*

  * The deep impression made on European mind by the war of
the Revolution, is described in the following extract from a recent
number of the British and Foreign Review:
  "In looking over the numerous German memoirs, reminiscences,
&c, to which we alluded at the beginning of this article, we are
struck with  the  unanimity on one point—the mighty impression
made on all minds by the American war.  This event seems to have
startled  Europe to its remotest bounds and its obscurest recesses.
All these writers, however distant the places of their birth, however
different the  circumstances under which they lived, refer to this as
one of the most vivid and indelible impressions of their childhood.
What Goethe says of it must  be  familiar to many of  our readers.
He, however, was a native of a great and much frequented commer-
cial city; but in the remote and tranquil seclusion of a small town
of Norway, the hearts of  men were stirred with strange hopes and
lofty aspirations for their race," 
 
THE SEASHORE.
  "Pleasant, yet mournful," are the associations con-
nected with the last rose of Summer.  The thoughts
recur to fruitful fields, and unclouded skies: delicious
odours, and beautiful  parterres, and sweet  flowers.
Prospectively contrasted with these, are Autumn frosts
and nature  clad in the livery of incipient decay; the
yellow leaves of the forest; the icy chains and snowy
dress of Winter.
  The visiters who remain on this shore  may now  be
occupied with reflections similar to these.   The saloons
are no longer  crowded; the merry laugh is no more
heard, Terpsichore, with her soul-inspiring music, has
departed; and the silence of which  Ossian complained
in the hall of his fathers, reigns here.  After a few more
days this place  will be  left to the  solitude which be-
longs to  its position.   They  who have  enlivened its
shore have returned to  friends and  home, having ex-
changed the,
       "Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,
       A sound which makes us linger; yet, farewell!"

They return to  plunge again in the  engrossing pursuits
of life; and the man of avarice, and the devotee of 
200             THE SEA-SHORE.
pleasure, will continue to worship their idols, as if they
had not here contrasted  the nothingness of man, with
the glorious works of the mighty God.  I am not one
of those  to  whom this  place has no charms,  unless
crowded with gay companions.   No man is more fond
of society than myself.   I love sprightly conversation;
and beautiful faces, and  sweet smiles.  But I also de-
sire sometimes to feel that I stand alone in the presence
of the great I AM, and commune with  him  through
his works that are spread around me.   I love solitude
like this:  yet, it is when I know I can, at any mo-
ment, dissolve the charm, and return to crowded streets
and the busy  haunts of men.   They who met here
and have parted, will never again assemble until the
trump of the  Archangel shall sound.   Another and
more  boundless  Ocean  lies before us.   One by one,
willing or unwilling, we must  spread our  canvass on
the bosom of that mighty sea; and  where we shall
land, Oh, who can tell!  Why should not man indulge
solemn thoughts, even amidst festive  scenes?  Objects
for the gratification  of our senses are profusely  spread
above, and beneath, and around us; but, it was never
designed  that we should  enjoy the  bounties  of his
providence, and forget  Him who gave  them.   The
roaming savage of primeval forests recognises a God in
the clouds and  the  winds; why,  then, should not
Christian  man be led by  the  contemplation  of His
works to that best of all knowledge—the knowledge of
Himself?
  I do not know any place of Summer resort for those
who seek an escape from the business associations, and 
THE SEA-SHORE
201
oppressive heat of large cities, which, for the purposes
of health and quiet enjoyment,  equals the  Sea-shore.
Why, it is ecstacy to plunge in old Ocean; to buffet his
mighty breakers; to contend against his tremendous
power, and  feel a  proud consciousness of your own
skill and strength as you  emerge, unharmed, from his
briny wave.   The drive along the  shore, with the ex-
panded view and  invigorating  sea-breeze,  is exceed-
ingly pleasant; and, if any magic power could afford the
inhabitants  of cities access to it on  a  fine afternoon,
with their lovely faces and gay equipages, the scene
would surpass  that presented by  the London  parks.
Sometimes  the  indications of  an  approaching storm
present a scene of surpassing  interest;  the breakers
dashing with fury,  as they roll up the  inclined plane
and thunder on the shore; the white-caps dancing, in
ceaseless succession, as far as the  eye  can reach; the
porpoise displaying a portion of his dark  body,  and
then plunging  beneath the wave; the sea-gull poising
himself in the air as  if engaged, while  hovering  over
the billows  amidst elemental strife, in beholding and
admiring the mighty power of the  God of storms.
   A walk on the shore  at sunset is most beautiful.
Rich and various colours are reflected along the sky by
every  pendent and scattered  cloud; and  the broad ex-
panse  of the Ocean is before you, peopled by its my-
riads of animated nature, and enriched by the treasures
of a thousand shipwrecks which will be forever  locked
up in its "dark, unfathomed caves."
   Many persons prefer to pass the Summer months at
the  interior  watering-places, because  they are  con-
       18 
202
THE SEA-SHORE.
sidered  more fashionable;  and, for this  consideration,
they submit to the annoyance of heat and dust.  Why
should not lovely woman, who has passed Winter and
Spring  in  gay saloons  and high excitements,  seek
repose in Summer; and thus allow the roses to bloom
again on cheeks wiiich are tinged with  unhealthy
hues?   In London, when a mother sees her fashionable
daughter with pallid cheeks, or hears her complain of
restless nights, she  sends her to some countiy relative,
that she may observe regular hours and  breathe  pure
air.  A quiet Summer on  the coast, or in mountainous
regions, would be equally salutary to the fair daughters
of our large cities.   But fashion is the most inexorable
of all tyrants, and constrains them to encounter all the
inconveniences attending on places of gay resort.   Her
terms are as  despotic as those of Islam, The tribute,
the Koran, or the sword.
  No description of the Ocean equals  that by Lord
Byron, in the fourth  Canto of Childe  Harold, com-
mencing with,

        Roll on, thou dark and deep blue Ocean—roll.

It is, indeed, a glorious  mirror, where the Almighty's
form glasses itself in tempests, boundless, endless, and
sublime—the  image of  eternity—the  throne of  the
Invisible.   What must have been the inspiration of his
genius, when these sublime conceptions arose in his
mind.   Had not that great mind been perverted, nature
would have been an open volume from which he would
have read, with improvement, the character of his Maker; 
                  THE SEA-SHORE.             203
 a correct knowledge of whom he might have imparted
 to men.   The high-born and gifted Alfieri, a brother-
 spirit, felt—like  Byron—the  inspiration of the view,
 when, in  early  life, the  Sea-shore exerted  such
 influence over his unconscious genius: "Almost every
 evening, after bathing in the sea, it delighted me to
 retreat to a little recess where the land jutted out; there
 I would  sit, leaning my back  against a high rock,
 which concealed from my sight every part of the land
 behind me,  while before  and  around me I  beheld
 nothing but the sea and the heavens: the sun, sinking
 into the waves, was lighting up and embellishing these
 two immensities; there would I pass  a delicious hour
 of fantastic ruminations; and there I should have com-
 posed many a poem, had I  then known  how to write
 either in verse or prose, in any language whatever."
   I  have long had a  desire to see  the Ocean during a
 storm; and, a few days since, I was partially gratified.
 At two o'clock there was violent rain, with thunder and
 lightning; but the Ocean did not become much agitated
 until towards  evening.  The  sun-set was brilliant,
 decking the clouds with a thousand beautiful colours,
 and  covering the landscape with a robe of living light.
 Notwithstanding  the calmness and beauty of the sky,
 the mountain-waves were rolling towards the shore,
 like "a war-horse foaming from the battle;" and, such
 was their fury, they would have  dashed whole navies
 to atoms.   The  lightning  wiiich played  along  the
horizon as far as the eye could extend  over the bosom
of the Sea, added to the grandeur of the  view.  I sat
for a considerable time, in unbroken silence, and sur- 
204              THE SEA-SHORE.
veyed  the  magnificent scene.  That was  a glorious
temple of Nature, at whose altar man, the High Priest,
might have bowed down in silent  adoration and wor-
shipped the Great Spirit.
  I have also sat  on the shore, at a  late hour, sur-
rounded  by a stillness which was broken only by the
roaring billows, and witnessed  a  beautiful  display of
falling stars.   I had never seen one half so brilliant.
The fall was very frequent, and  they seemed to be
extinguished in their watery bed.  While occupied in
the  contemplation,  I  thought of those lines, which
describe the  fate  of  woman  when she  departs from
virtue:
     "Ruin ensues, reproach, and endless shame,
     And one false step forever blasts her name.
     In vain with tears her loss she may deplore;
     In vain look back to what she was before;
     She sits—like stars that fall—to rise no more."
   Iii a Christian  sense, I  am a worshipper of Nature.
The character of Deity shines in  the sun  and moon,
and  twinkles in the stars.   It is seen in the ocean, the
mountain, the cataract; and is wiiispered by the  gen-
tle zephyr wiiich gives health and happiness to his
creatures.  I  can deny with Job, that "my heart hath
been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand
as I beheld  the  sun when  he shineth, or the moon
walking in brightness;"  but, if I  had never  received
light from heaven, I should have  worshipped the
"Unknown God," not in the form of  a senseless image,
but  in the glories of his creation.  We are all in the
hands of  the Great Being who made us—wiiose power 
                 THE SEA-SHORE.             205
is equalled by his mercy—and we may well be content
to leave the apportionment of our lot with him.   Yet,
if I  might be allowed to supplicate, I would say, Let
me possess, while  I live, the exercise of reason—the
ennobling attribute of my nature:  and, when the hour
shall have arrived that I must die, let me, like Rousseau,
be placed where I can behold the setting sun, with all
the attendant glories.  Not that, like him, I may be
guilty of Persian idolatry by worshipping Nature as  a
deity; but that, having my  mind  occupied with the
contemplation of her indescribable wonders, I may, in
my expiring hour, admire, and  love, and worship God
her Creator.
  On the afternoon of my arrival, it was amusing to
observe a  group of  mothers  and fair daughters, sur-
rounding a gentleman who was seated in the piazza and
reading from a  paper  an account of  a  scene which
occurred a few evenings before.  The  persons  were
indicated  by  initials and  descriptions; and  it was
pleasant to watch  the countenances  of those who
looked as if they supposed  allusion might be made to
them—the  eager  expectation, the  half-suppressed
breathing, the listening ear.  When a description was
read, That's you, that's you, exclaimed  a dozen glee-
some voices, and two dozen  sparkling eyes.  No, that
does not mean me, replied the  delighted girl: but, the
laugh in her  eye, and  the smile on her lip, and the
tint on her cheek proved that,
           "The lovely maiden stands confess'd."
Perhaps in  that group there  may have been  some
lovely creature who has just budded into womanhood;
       18* 
206
THE SEA-SHORE.
whose full, soft eye, indicates a fountain of all tender
emotions which exists within her gentle bosom; whose
open countenance convinces the admirer that no guile,  •
or unkindness will be found in her intercourse  with
society; thus affording assurance that mature  life will
fulfil  the promise of the early blossoming.  A  being
so lovely might wander over far distant lands, be fanned
by  other winds,  and warmed  by other suns,  without
being  forgotten  by those she  left behind.   Such is a
character to inspire the sentiment,
         "Where'er your wand'ring footsteps rove,
           Where'er your gentle spirit be,
         My heart the favour'd spot will love,
           And bless the clime that blesses thee:"

and to excite the serious reflections  that  sometimes
occupy the mind when contemplating the future of
young and guileless woman.   There is an association,
the  feelings accompanying the  formation of  which
have been  described as,

        "The deep  trust with which a maiden casts
      Her all of earth—perchance her all of heaven—
      Into a mortal hand; the confidence
      With which she turns in every thought to him,
      Her more than brother, and her next to God,
      Hath never yet been meted out in words,
    ■  Or weighed with language."

If disappointed in the expectations she  indulges from
that association,  her  condition is hopeless, because it
is a "bankruptcy of the  heart."
   Many persons  become weary of the Sea-shore after
remaining  a few  days.   They who have no occupation 
                 THE SEA-SHORE.             207
to engage their attention, and who are without men-
tal resources, soon tire of life itself.  Visiters go to a
watering-place  with  high anticipations of enjoyment
from pleasant associations with many whom they may
meet; and give free indulgence to buoyant feelings.
After a few days their  friends  begin to  depart; the
novelty of the scene and of the amusements has passed;
and they desire to seek a  relief from ennui by a change
of place.   We should not be dependent on the excite-
ment of company for our happiness;  but, rather, like
the old philosopher, we should endeavour to feel "never
less alone than when alone."
  A few mornings since I walked  on the shore, and
saw the sun arise in all his glory.  No description can
convey a just  conception of the view.  The light that
was spread along the horizon gradually increased, dif-
fusing its golden tints on all surrounding  objects; the
segment  of a luminous circle then appeared, and, as if
by a sudden leap, the full-orbed sun was in view, seem-
ing to stand forth like a "strongman rejoicing to run a
race."   It was as if Phaeton, having plunged beneath
the Western waters and enjoyed a night of repose, had
again harnessed  his horses  to the chariot of the sun.
The billows were dashing on the shore, and retired
after exhausting their fury, leaving the white foam be-
hind them.   The rays of light,  as the sun advanced,
were reflected from the spray in a thousand combina-
tions, unsurpassed in brilliancy  by the diamonds that
sparkle on the brow of beauteous woman.   Of all the
forms of idolatrous worship, that of the Persian is least
irrational. 
208             THE SEA-SHORE.
  After a few  hours shall  have passed, I shall leave
ibis charming place, and return to mingle again with
the population of my own city; but, amidst the various
pursuits that may engage me there, memory will often
recur  to these scenes  which I shall leave behind, and
to  the friends from whom I have parted.  Farewell!
aThou deep and dark blue Ocean!"   I have  walked
along thy smooth shore, and listened to thy sounding
billows, and felt my own nothingness as I cast my eyes
over thy measureless expanse.   I have "wanton'd
with thy breakers," and, when standing amidst their
raging, have "laid my hand upon  thy mane."   "I
have  loved thee, Ocean;" and, in future life, I shall
delight to return, and be again received to thy bosom.
Till then, "Thou deep and dark blue  Ocean," Fare-
well.
  August 184— 
9*
                 JAMES BARBOUR.*

  The numerous friends of Gov. Barbour have, with
the deepest  regret,  been  informed  of his somewhat
unexpected death.   Fourteen months ago, his medical
advisers knew that his life  could not be prolonged be-
yond a very few years: but, such  was the  extent to
wiiich his naturally  vigorous constitution had re-acted
after a violent illness during the past Winter, that his
departure was unexpected to his family.
  Previously to four or five years since, he had  almost
uninterrupted enjoyment of health—not often, during a
long and active life,  having  been afflicted with sickness
of  any  kind:   and, since his  retirement  from  the
anxieties of public employments, his agricultural pur-
suits, with the bracing  air  of the region  of the Blue
Ridge, gave promise for the extension of  his term be-
yond the three-score and  ten  years.  A year or two
before the great  political struggle of 1840, his health
began to  fail without any  assignable cause.   During
that contest,  which enlisted the  active exertions  of dis-
  *The Sketch  which was published, in a number of papers, a few
days after the death of Gov. Barbour, was little more than a general
outline of his private life. It has been  re-written and enlarged for
this volume. 
210
JAMES BARBOUR.
tinguished  men of the day, he yielded so far to the
urgent solicitations of political friends and the prompt-
ings of his own patriotism, as to visit different sections
of the countiy, and address numerous assemblages of
his fellow-citizens.   The apprehensions of his family,
as to the  effects of such severe labours, were painfully
realized by his  impaired physical powers.
  After the close of  the contest, he repaired to Balti-
more and  Philadelphia for the benefit  of eminent
medical  and surgical  advice; and  it was  ascertained
that he had been, for several years,  suffering under the
slowr and insidious advances of a disease, which had,
by  irritative fever, gradually impaired his constitution;
and, for the ultimate cure of which surgery could offer
no promise.  Palliation and a prolongation of life for
a few years—results only to be attained by the  strict
observance of all the regulations which surgical science
prescribed, as adapted to the  disease—were  all that
could be  expected.   Subsequently  to the  discovery of
this  condition  of his  system—which restrained  him
from the  active  pursuits of life while it deprived him
of hope—he repeatedly expressed  the  wish that the
curtain might drop and close the drama; as he did not
deem life desirable after the actor had lost the power to
perform his part.
  During the  Autumn of 1841, his health had im-
proved so far as to allow him to anticipate a visit to
his friends  in this city, early in the past Winter.  In
the accomplishment of that purpose he  left Barbours-
ville in December, expecting to arrive at Baltimore by
the way  of Richmond, where he was called to attend 
JAMES BARBOUR.
211
the Agricultural  Convention  of Virginia.   At  that
place he was so much indisposed, from the excitement
of travel and the change from the quiet and comforts
of his own fireside, that he was induced  to relinquish
the further prosecution of  his journey and to return to
Barboursville.  An aggravation of the  symptoms in-
dicated the progress of  the disease.  After an illness of
several weeks, attended with the most painful anxieties
of his friends, he was restored to a comfortable state of
health; and was able to devote a portion of his time to
the management of his estate.   His design was, during
the season, to visit the Virginia Springs.  But, the re-
turn of Summer, aided in  its effects by the moisture so
peculiar to the season,  induced colliquative symptoms,
which, acting on his debilitated system, could not be
anested.   In  the  possession of his mental  faculties,
with a perfect consciousness of his approaching disso-
lution, and surrounded  by his family, he died at  Bar-
boursville, Orange County, Virginia, on the  seventh of
June, 1842; having completed, within three days, his
sixty-seventh year.  Thus a distinguished man—wTho,
since his death, has been described by one of the most
eloquent writers of the day, as "One of  the noblest of
the sons of Virginia; the virtues of whose private life
and character outshone all the splendour with which
popular favour or political distinction could  adorn his
name"—has calmly yielded  up his spirit to the Great
Being from whom it came.
   I will not invade the privacy of the domestic circle,
by speaking of the kind and  loving  Husband)  the
affectionate and indulgent Father; the "Old Master," 
212             JAMES BARBOUR.
as he was called by his servants, who spoke of, and to
him, almost with the affection they would have had
for a parent.  I will not draw aside the veil which
conceals from public  view  the  anguish of her, who,
with all of  woman's devotion, was  his companion for
more than  forty years: or that of his children, whose
reverential  love approached almost  to idolatry.   Time
the comforter, in commemoration of whose powers
to console the mourner Montaigne  proposed to erect a
monument, will bring to them his  healing virtues on
his wings.
   That portion  of  the biography of Gov.   Barbour
which  relates to his public  life, is indelibly written in
the histories of his State and of his  Countiy.   During
the last thirty years, few men have occupied  a  larger
space in the public eye:  none have been characterized
by a patriotism more  pure, or by a more unbounded
devotion of time and talents to the public welfare.   I
do not  propose to give any other  than a  general view
of his  public and private life.
   James Barbour was born in Orange County, Virginia,
on the 10th of June, 1775.  He was educated in one
of the  Colleges of Virginia: and, having selected the
law as  his profession,  he commenced, at  a very early
age, the discharge of its duties.   His success was bril-
liant, and not often surpassed in the  practice of County
Courts.  He was unequalled by any  member of the
Courts in  which  he practised, in the  consummate
ability  with which  he conducted jury trials.   Had he
chosen to devote his time and talents to his profession,
his native genius, his  perspicacity,  and his eloquence, 
JAMES BARBOUR.
213
would have  placed him in favourable competition
with distinguished legal men of his day.   Law is jealous
of her votaries, and requires unbounded devotion from
those who desire to attain eminence in that  science
which "has its seat in the bosom of God," and whose
"voice is the harmony of the world."  Such devotion
did not accord with the plans which he had formed for
the direction of his future life.  At this period, he was
principally occupied, during the intervals of  the terms
of the Courts in which  he practised, by agricultural
pursuits: thus laying a foundation for the acquisition
of the eminence he acquired, and  always maintained,
as an agriculturist.
   In 1798, at  the early  age of twenty-three, he was
chosen to represent Orange in the Legislature of Vir-
ginia.  At this period, the Union  was excited by the
Alien and Sedition  Laws; and  the  political creed of
Virginia caused her citizens to feel the excitement,
more, perhaps, than those of any other section of the
country.  After his election, and before the meeting of
the  Legislature, the citizens of Orange  assembled to
express their opinions on the measures of the Adminis-
tration; and Mr. Barbour offered condemnatory resolu-
tions which attracted general attention.
   He took his seat in the Legislature, in December,
1798; and was the youngest member of the  House.
That session was most important, exciting, and interest-
ing—more so, perhaps, than any other  in the history
of Virginia.  At a  very early  period of the Govern-
ment, two great political  parties were  formed in  the
United States—the Federal, and  the Anti-federal or
       19 
214
JAMES BARBOUR.
Republican.  The Federal party was supposed to have
a tendency to consolidation, or the concentration of
power  in  the General Government: the  Republican
party favoured the retention of power by the People,
and the States.   Alexander Hamilton was the leader
of the  Federal party, and  wished to form a  strong
Executive, or National Government, with paramount
influence over the separate States.  He did not believe
that  the Government  could  exist without a  strong
Executive.  Misled  by the examples  of Republics in
former  times, he  was  convinced that  institutions,
strictly democratic, could  not be  maintained; and he
exerted his brilliant  powers in  support of his  views.
He had seen the defects of the Confederation, wiiich,
as a system of government, was no stronger than a
rope of sand; and he had not sufficiently appreciated
the principles of the Constitution which was proposed.
He did not make the proper  distinction between the
citizens of all the old Republics, who were  unen-
lightened  and became an easy prey to aspiring dema-
gogues; and the people of our country who brought
with them to our shores the religion, the  civilization,
the science, and  the arts of England.   Any compari-
sons between the two periods, as to the capacity of the
People for  self-government, were obviously unfair.
  Thomas Jefferson was the leader of the Republican
party, which controverted the doctrines  of the Hamil-
tonian school, and contended  that the greatest danger
to the  Republic was to be apprehended from the con-
centration of power  in the Executive.  They  had
confidence in the enlightened spirit of the age, and 
JAMES BARBOUR.
215
were willing to confide the fate of the Republic to the
good  sense and integrity of the People.  Although
Mr. Jefferson, on account of the distinguished  part he
sustained in that ever memorable contest, wras the ac-
knowledged Republican leader,  he did  not fail to re-
ceive  efficient  aid.   The  political creed of  James
Madison was  Republican.   He maintained that the
Constitution, as written, should be inviolate; that the
rights of the States,  as defined in the  Constitution,
should be preserved; that doubtful powers should not
be exercised by  the Federal Government; that defects
in the  Constitution  should be  corrected by  amend-
ments, in the manner prescribed by that instrument.
   Such was the condition  of political  parties, when,
in 1798, two Acts, called the Alien and Sedition Laws,
were  passed by  Congress.   The Republicans opposed
the first, because it gave the Executive powrer to judge
and decide, without a resort to the legal tribunals of
the country, and  without  proof in  strict conformity
with the requisitions of law.  They opposed the second,
because it restricted the liberty of speech, and of the
press; and was an arbitrary interference with the rights
of the citizen.
   This outline is  presented in  order to shew the con-
dition of political  parties, and the public excitement in
Virginia,  when, in 1798, Mr. Barbour took  a seat in
the Legislature.  The separating line between the two
parties  was marked, during  that Session, by the ques-
tion involving constitutional principles, Had Congress
the power, by the Constitution, to enact the Alien and
Sedition Laws?  The discussion of this question  was 
216
JAMES BARBOUR.
 introduced by  the presentation, by John Taylor,  of
 Caroline,  of a Preamble and  Resolutions,  prepared
 by Mr. Madison,*  who,  although not  a  member
 of the  Legislature, performed this important duty  in
 compliance with the urgent solicitations of his political
 friends.   Such is the origin of the celebrated Resolu-
 tions  of 1798.   Six members of the Republican party
 were  selected to advocate  them on  the floor  of the
 House;  and Mr. Barbour wras  one of the chosen ad-
 vocates.  He delivered a speech in their defence, prin-
 cipally  in  reply to George  Keith  Taylor, of Prince
 George, who was the champion of the Federal party.
 The speech, young and inexperienced as he then wras,
produced a strong impression,  and was regarded as a
very remarkable effort; and, at the close of the Session,
he had acquired a reputation as a statesman, not often
attained at the age of twenty-three.
  Mr. Barbour  was a member of the Legislature for
successive years; but  continued the practice  of the
  '■See a pamphlet entitled, "Eulogium on the Life and Character
of James Madison: By James Barbour, 1S36."
  Mr. Madison was elected to the Legislature, in 1799, and was the
author of the celebrated Resolutions of that year; which, with those
of '98, became a political text-book.  Patrick Henry was elected
to the Legislature of '99, in order to lead the minority in opposition
to the principles of the Resolutions of '98.  His genius, eloquence,
and popularity would have made him a formidable antagonist to Mr.
Madison; but, they did not meet in the Legislature—Henry having
died in June, 1799.  It cannot be difficult to decide who would have
been the victor, if they had met in argument on great'constitutional
questions. Henry's torrent-like eloquence would, at first, have
swept away every opposing barrier: but the mild and persuasive elo-
quence of Madison, aided by great powers of argumentation, would
have taken captive the judgment of his audience. 
JAMES BARBOUR.
217
Law, during the recesses, until he was elected Governor
of Virginia.   His labours while in the Legislature have
identified his name, in the Code of Virginia, with
many important Acts:  among them, those relating to
the Public Lands, the Literary Fund, and the suppres-
sion  of  Duelling.   He was the father of the law in
relation  to Duelling.  The first  time he presented the
Bill, it passed the  lower House, but wras  lost in the
Senate.   At  the succeeding Session  he was elected
Speaker; and the  same Bill—which could  not  be
brought forward by the Speaker-—was offered by a friend
of his,  and became a  law.  The  Bill was ably de-
fended by him in Committee of the Whole, where his
position as Speaker of the House, did not, ex officio,
prevent  him from addressing the Committee.   He was
elected  Speaker in  1808.  His  commanding personal
appearance, his almost intuitive judgment of character,
his dignity, and his eloquence, eminently  qualified him
to discharge the duties  of that station in  such  manner
as to secure the respect of all parties.  During his con-
tinuance in the House, he  acquired great popularity
and influence; and eloquently and successfully opposed
the employment of  power, gained  by political revolu-
tions, as an instrument of general political proscription.
Throughout his long public life, he always maintained
the character of a liberal and enlightened patriot.
   Mr. Barbour continued to occupy the Speaker's chair
until  the Session  of 1811, and '12,  when he was
elected,  without  opposition, Governor  of Virginia.
The circumstances which attended the early period of
his Administration,  called into  action all the firmness
       19* 
21S              JAMES BARBOUR.
and manly independence of his character; as the adop-
tion  of measures, prompt  and decisive, was required
by the exigencies of the  crisis.   War wras declared
against Great Britain, in June, 1812,  on account of
her impressment  of American seamen—her doctrine
and  system  of  blockade—her adoption and continu-
ance of the Orders in Council.  Virginia was without
preparation,  by legislative acts, for her own defence:
and  Gov. Barbour "armed the local militia, and ar-
ranged a  levy en masse, so as to be prepared for action
at a  moment's  warning."   In January, 1813, hostile
appearances induced  him to  call  out the militia, and
he proceeded with them to Norfolk.   Acting on his
official responsibility, he called into service a  military
force for the protection of Richmond.  When the State
Treasury Avas exhausted, he borrowed from the Banks
of Richmond $200,000, giving in pledge his individual
responsibility.   "He took  the field in person, and dis-
charged the combined duties  of Commander-in-Chief
and Governor."   His  conduct received  opposition and
censure, which, as he  was  discharging a high constitu-
tional duty, he  fearlessly disregarded; and the  success
of his measures vindicated the soundness of his judg-
ment.  Censure was  followed by popular applause:
the Legislature  sanctioned his measures,  and testified
approval  by re-election, with but feeble opposition.
This was the most responsible and important  portion
of his political  life.   Under trying circumstances, he
exercised that cool self-reliance which is one of the
attributes of genius.   He afforded an illustration of
the truth of the remark, that, "Mankind judge mea- 
JAMES BARBOUR.
219
sures by events:  they connect wisdom with good  for-
tune, and folly with disaster."
   On the expiration of his second gubernatorial  term,
Gov. Barbour was elected Senator of the United States;
having had  as  his  competitor for  that  honourable
position a distinguished citizen, who has gone down to
the grave, leaving behind him an imperishable name as
a  lawyer, an orator, and a  man of letters; in com-
memoration of whose genius, eloquence, and learning,
Mr.  Adams* pronounced, at the time of his death, an
admirable eulogy in the Hall of Representatives; "He
was never a member of this House;  but if we should
erect a statue to  his memory, we might place on it the
words which were inscribed on that of  Moliere in the
Hall of the French Academy, 'Nothing was wanted
to his glory; he  was wanted to our's.'"

  *The following lines of Cowley on Hobbes, may be applied to
Mr. Adams, who, at the age of seventy-seven—after having passed
half a century  in the service of his country—retains the intellectual
vigour of middle life.  The philosopher  of Malmsbury lived to
attain extreme  old age, with unimpaired mental powers.  At eighty-
seven, he published the Odyssey in English verse; at eighty-eight,
he published a similar translation of the Iliad:

      "Nor can the snow which now cold age  does shed
         Upon thy rev'rend head,
      Quench or allay the noble fires within;
         But all that thou hast been,
      And all  that youth can be, thou'rt yet:
         So fully still dost thou
      Enjoy the manhood and  the bloom of wit,
      And all the natural heat,  but not the fever too.
      So contraries on Etna's top conspire:
      The embolden'd snow next to the flame does sleep.
      To things immortal time can do no wrong;
      And that which never is  to die, forever must be young." 
221)             JAMES BARBOUR.
  The reputation Gov. Barbour had  acquired, during
his connexion with public affairs in Virginia, was not
confined to that State.  He was well  and extensively
known when he appeared in the Senate Chamber.
It is not proposed to trace, in detail, the very important
and influential part he sustained while a member  of
that distinguished body which contained many of the
most eminent men of the countiy.  His moral, mental,
and personal qualities eminently enabled him to occupy
a high position in the Senate   At different periods, he
was  Chairman  of  the Military Committee, of the
Committee on Foreign Affairs, and President pro. tern.
of the Senate.   He bore a conspicuous part in the
proceedings  involved in  Finance,  the  West  India
Trade, and the Missouri Question.
  In 1820, the Territory of Missouri applied for admis-
sion into the Union.   On  the discussion of this ques-
tion in Congress, an amendment was offered, "ordaining
and establishing that there shall  be neither slavery nor
involuntary servitude in said State."   By virtue  of an
Act of a former Congress, the introduction of slavery
into the North-West Territory had  been  prohibited.
It was also excluded from States, subsequently admitted
into the Union, which were formed from portions  of
that  Territory.  But, Territories in  which slavery
existed, had been admitted into the Union without the
restriction—among them, Louisiana.   Missouri formed
part of the Louisiana Territory, which was ceded by
France to  the United States, in 1803.  Ohio, Indiana,
and Illinois were admitted  with the restriction; because
slavery, by a previous legislative Act of 1787,  under 
                 JAMES BARBOUR.             221
the Confederation, had been excluded from the North-
West  Territory.*  Kentucky, Tennessee, Louisiana,
Mississippi, and Alabama, had been admitted without
the restriction, as they were  formed  from States  or
Territories in which  slavery existed  at the  time  of
admission.
   The  discussion  of this  question—thus concisely
stated—produced great excitement,   and  threatened
most  disastrous results.  President Monroe  had fre-
quent consultations with Messrs. Clay, Lowndes, Bar-
bour, and other distinguished members of Congress, in
order to attempt to arrange a compromise  of the diffi-
culties.   Mr. Clay exerted talents and eloquence wiiich
would have conferred honour on Greece and Rome in
their proudest  days;  efforts which entitle him to the
lasting gratitude of  his countiy, and acquired  for him
the name "Pacificator"—a name more noble than that
of Emperor.   The one may be the accident of birth:
the other can only be  attained by the combined efforts
of genius and  patriotism.  While Gov. Barbour was
faithful  to the interests of  the  South,  he wras not un-
mindful of the general welfare; and compromise and
conciliation were objects at which he constantly aimed.
Dark and  portentous were the clouds which then hung
over the Republic.  Let his memory be enshrined  in
the grateful recollections which belong  to those  who
adjusted a momentous question—a question,  not only
involving the existence  of one Government,  but the
interests of the world.

  *See, Laws of the United States, Vol. 1. p. 480, Art. 6. 
222
JAMES BARBOUR.
  He was  elected to the Senate for two successive
terms; and vacated the seat during the second,  by ac-
cepting  the appointment of Secretary at War under
the Administration of Mr. Adams.   I have no  know-
ledge of any of the documents which issued from that
Department during the three years he was at its head,
except a Report which he communicated to the  House
of Representatives, in 1826, on the subject of the pre-
servation and  civilization  of  the  Indians—a  pap'er
alike remarkable  for its ability and its philanthropy.
He was taken from the War  Office,  and sent by Mr.
Adams as Minister Plenipotentiary to  the Court of St.
James; and, during his residence in England, while he
discharged  with ability his duties to his countiy, he
made numerous friends among Englishmen with whom
he  was  brought in contact by his official and social
relations.   The following extract from the pen  of one
wiio was familiar with the history of the period, will
shew his qualifications for that station: "In making this
appointment, Mr. Adams had reference to those im-
portant and delicate  questions, the satisfactory  adjust-
ment of which the predecessors of  Mr.  Barbour had
failed to negotiate.  From his peculiar talents, temper,
and manners,  no individual could have been selected
better adapted to the  duties of such a mission than Mr.
Barbour.   Although  but  a few months an accredited
Minister near the  Court of St. James, no Representa-
tive of the American Government ever made a more
favourable  impression on  the British public.    The
marked and flattering attentions which were paid him,
from his introduction at  Court, by  the  most  distin- 
JAMES BARBOUR.
223
guished personages of the Kingdom, are testimonials of
the influence he was likely to command in the settle-
ment of these  questions, embracing as they did the
deepest and most intricate principles of international
law."  His Government gave him instructions as to the
principles which should direct him in the settlement of
the questions in dispute, arising out of  the  British
Colonial Trade with the United States.  His determina-
tion was, not to allow  "the American eagle to crouch
at the feet of the British lion."  The contest of 1828,
between Mr. Adams  and Gen. Jackson, resulted in the
election of the latter as  President:  and, shortly after
the commencement  of the neAV Administration,  Gov.
Barbour was recalled from the British Court—too soon
to have enabled him to accomplish  the objects of his
mission.   His return to the United States in the Autumn
of 1829,  was entirely the result of a change in the
predominance of political parties;  and occurred in the
same year in which Gen. Harrison was recalled from
his station as Minister Plenipotentiary to the Republic
of Colombia—an appointment made, in 1828, by Mr.
Adams.
   After his return, Gov. Barbour employed himself,
with renewed  zeal,  in the  cultivation  of his estate.
His interest in such pursuits had been increased, during
his residence  in England, by his  intimate  intercourse
with the  late  Earl  of  Leicester—better known as
"Coke of Holkam"—and other eminent English agri-
culturists.   His  almost continued absence from Bar-
boursville  during the  twenty years he had been in
public  stations, leaving the control of his estate in the 
224
JAMES BARBOUR.
 hands of managers,  must, of necessity, have been at-
 tended with great pecuniary sacrifice.  The mission to
 England was the closing act of his public  employ-
 ments: a close worthy of one who had been promoted,
 in rapid succession, under the State and General Govern-
 ments; and who was controlled by a patriotism as pure
 as ever glowed in the bosom of man.
   In 1831, Gov. Barbour was chosen to preside over
 the  National  Convention which assembled  in  Balti-
 more to  select a candidate for the Presidency;  when
 the nomination was bestowed on Mr.  Clay—then, and
 until separated by death, his very intimate friend.   In
 1839, he was called to occupy a similar station in the
 Harrisburg Convention, when Gen. Harrison received
 the  nomination.  With him  he had  maintained rela-
 tions of intimate friendship from the time they served
 together  in the Senate of the United States, until they
 were severed by the death of "The Good President."
  I have already alluded to his arduous labours in the
 political  struggle of 1840—a  struggle the excitement
 of which has never been approximated in this country,
 except by that of the contest of 1800, between Jefferson
 and Burr.  During this contest he repeatedly and pub-
 licly proclaimed, that, in the event of the success of his
 party,  he did  not desire, and would  not accept, any
 office in  the gift of the Government.   His arduous,
 and—with his feeble health—imprudent labours, were
prompted by a deep and abiding conviction  that the
time had arrived when every man who had influence
over the popular mind, should freely expend his strength
for  the public good.   Had it not  been for his well 
JAMES BARBOUR.
225
known and long established opinions on the Bank ques-
tion, in connexion with the views of some members of
the Assembly of Virginia, he would, on the accession
of Gen. Harrison, have been sent to the United States'
Senate; an event which—on  account of his health—
would have been deeply deplored by his friends   The
distinguished Senator who wras then chosen, and now
occupies that  seat so honourably  to himself and his
State, would be  among the foremost to admit that no
other Virginian  had equal claims to that distinction.
The pre-eminent  position which he occupied  in the
confidence and affection  of his political party, in Vir-
ginia, was, a few months since,  publicly and emphati-
cally expressed  by Mr.  B.  Watkins  Leigh,  and the
Editor of the Richmond  Whig.   His name was men-
tioned, during the  last Session of the Legislature of
Virginia,  in connexion with the gubernatorial chair;
but the suggestion was abandoned, because  it  was well
known to his friends at Richmond, that, on account of
his health, such  an appointment he could not accept.
   The last public act of  his political life took place at
Washington, a  few days before  the inauguration of
Gen. Harrison:  when, as President of  the  Harrisburg
Convention, he  called together the Delegates,  who had
assembled in  Washington to witness that imposing
ceremony, that  they might exchange congratulations.
His address on  that occasion was characterized by all
the vigorous thought and fervid eloquence of  his better
days; and  was in striking contrast  with his debilitated
and  emaciated  frame.   The  flickering lamp sheds
around a brilliant light just before it goes out in dark-
       20 
226
JAMES BARBOUR.
 ness.  The noble courser champs the bit, and snuffs
 the wind, and paws the ground, when he appears, for
 a final struggle, on  the field where he had  so often
 triumphed.   The undying soul sometimes  asserts the
 immortality of its nature,  even when surrounded  by
 material decay.
   When in  the enjoyment of vigorous health, Gov.
 Barbour was one of the finest looking men of his day.
 His personal  appearance was  highly imposing.   He
 was tall, and—before  he was broken  by disease—
 graceful, and erect; with manly proportions, and strongly
 marked features.  His forehead and the general forma-
 tion of the head, were intellectual.   The eyes were
 deeply set, and the eye-brows were remarkably promi-
 nent.  Whether seen  in private,  social, or public life,
 he at once  impressed  a stranger with the conviction
 that he was not a common man.
   I have already  alluded to his eminence  as  a public
 speaker.  A gentleman of distinction  in Virginia, and
 a competent judge of oratory,  told me he heard him
 deliver a speech, during the autumn of 1840, at Staun-
 ton, Virginia,  to a large assemblage,  wiien he spoke
 for five consecutive hours in a manner which, for elo-
 quence and power, he had never known to be excelled
 on  such occasions.   During the same season he  ad-
 dressed  a very  numerous audience in Monument
 Square, in  this city; but his feeble health made
it impossible for his voice to be heard, except by a small
portion of the thousands assembled in that large area.
He had but  few equals in the ability  with which he
delivered an extemporaneous  address.  His conversa- 
JAMES BARBOUR.
227
tional powers were  very remarkable.  A mind stored
with varied knowledge and  anecdote,  and an  easy
flow of language, made him the charm of every circle.
Like Coleridge, he would sometimes assume more the
manner of lecture than of conversation; and, on  such
occasions, he enchained the attention of eveiy auditor
—his intimate acquaintance with the prominent  men
and events of the age,  at home and abroad, imparting
peculiar interest  to all he said.  Notwithstanding his
personal  connexion,  for thirty years, with prominent
public  transactions, his conversation was without the
weakness of egoism.  His style in conversation has
been criticised  as wranting  in simplicity.  A stranger
was  impressed with something of the ore rotundo in
his conversation; but the impression was nearly lost on
intimate  acquaintance.   The late  Gen.  Taylor, of
Norfolk,  Virginia, approached him more nearly as  a
conversationist than any other man I have ever known:
superior in elegance and finish; but inferior in richness
and vigour.
  The traveller  who passes over that  portion of Vir-
ginia which lies between Charlottesville and Orange
Court-House—journeying  along the  road  which is
West of  the  South-West  Mountain—about midway
between  the two  points reaches  Barboursville; having
his  view  on one side bounded by the South-West
Mountain; on the other by the Blue Ridge.   A beauti-
ful  landed estate of seven or eight thousand acres is
embellished by a large brick mansion, which, with its
surrounding improvements, is, perhaps, not  surpassed
by any  other in Virginia.   The  visiter who  remained 
228             JAMES BARBOUR.
there a day, a week, or a month, had no restraint im-
posed on him; and he imposed  none on the  inmates.
He wras at liberty to follow his own inclinations in out-
door amusements, or with books;  wiiile the members
of the  family pursued their accustomed daily avoca-
tions.   The proprietor was on his horse by day  light,
and met his  friends at  breakfast.  After breakfast he
was employed in riding over his estate until mid-day,
when he returned, dressed for dinner, and joined the
domestic circle.  After tea he would engage in conver-
sation for an hour or two, and then retire without cere-
mony, leaving his guests with the younger members of
his family.   Mr. Trelawmy—author of  Adventures
of a Younger Son, and the friend of Byron wiio closed
the eyes of  "Childe  Harold"  as he died at Misso-
longhi—when in this countiy, eight years ago, passed
several months at Barboursville,  and said the  mode of
life almost made him suppose  he was at the seat of
an English country gentleman.   Such  was the  man-
sion where friends often assembled, and in which the
weary, or benighted traveller was received with  a cor-
dial welcome and  a hospitable board.   The  Sages of
Monticello and Montpelier, were the neighbours and
intimate friends of Gov. Barbour;  and their loss,  when
removed by  death, was deeply  felt and  deplored.
When  Mr. Madison died, he pronounced, in compli-
ance with public invitation  from citizens of Orange, a
glowing eulogy on his illustrious friend.
  The esteem of his fellow-citizens for Gov. Barbour__
the confidence in his undeviating integrity, his political
principles, and his ability—were never more  strongly 
JAMES BARBOUR.
229
manifested than in the expression of opinions of his
character, during the past year.   His age—his talents
—his unsullied honour—his long  and  distinguished
public service, justify me in saying, without disparage-
ment to any other citizen, that no man in Virginia had
an  equal hold on  the  regards of his political party.
For long years he was one whom they  "delighted to
honour:" and,  as a man—leaving political faith, and
party feelings out of view—he was supposed to be the
most popular citizen of the State.   Since his death, one
who  knew him well  in public and private life, wrote
of  him in the following terms: "Few public men have
led purer lives; and to none, with more truth  than to
him, can be applied the line of Horace,
               Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit.

His  private  character was  blameless:  and,  in  the
whole course  of  his  distinguished  public career,  an
ardent patriotism and noble disdain  of  self  pervaded
all his actions.   He was  always true and steadfast to
his friends, and his heart knew no guile.  He was un-
surpassed in  singleness  of purpose,  and disinterested
love  of country."   Like every other distinguished
public man,  he was often assailed by the press of the
opposite party: but now,  when he has gone down to
the dead, the  feelings that were excited  by political
conflicts will lie buried in his grave.  The memory of
virtuous and patriotic citizens belongs to the country,
and not to a party.
   The virtues of the  departed patriots of  Greece long
animated her sons  in their heroic struggles for liberty.
       20* 
230
JAMES BARBOUR.
The history of America  will carry down  to posterity
the memory of men of patriotism as pure  as was ever
offered in sacrifice on the altars of that temple, which
has been erected, in the name of the God  of Nations,
for the freedom of the  world.   Other  nations of the
earth  in distant days, in  their struggles for freedom,
may adopt,  as their hattle-ciy, the noble  exclamation
of Patrick  Henry when  he gave the first impulse to
the ball of the Revolution, Give  me liberty, or give
me death.  May the degeneracy of future  times never
give occasion  for the American patriot to invoke  the
presence  of the spirits  of our  departed Fathers, that
they may re-enkindle their own holy .fires in the bosoms
of their children. 
INSANITY.
Extract from a Report made to the House of Delegates,
  as Chairman of a Select Committee sent to visit the
  Maryland Hospital, and report on its condition and
  wants . February \9th, 1839.
   ***********
  Your Committee consider  tfiemselves bound by
imperious duty, before closing their Report, to call the
attention of this House to the important subject  of
making provision for the accommodation of the pauper
lunatics of Maryland.   A mother loves and takes care
of her children: but, 'by a merciful  principle in the
constitution of her nature, she manifests double anxiety
for  those  who are  unable  to contribute to their ©wn
protection.  The State  of  Maryland  is the mother of
her citizens, and cannot divest herself of the obliga-
tions under which she is placed to provide for the un-
fortunate.
  The subject of insanity excites great, and increasing
attention in the present enlightened  and benevolent
age.   The mind is filled with horror by the considera-
tion  of the former modes  of treating  this terrible
species of  human  suffering.   The miserable victims
were confined in dark and  loathsome  cells, and loaded
with  chains;  while stripes  and  severity in various 
232
INSANITY.
 other forms, were employed to subdue this malady of
 the "mind diseased."
   In 1792, Pinel, a French physician, directed his at-
 tention to this subject; and, having obtained permission
 to make experiments at the  Bicetre in confinnation  of
 his views, he entered the  abodes of  misery; knocked
 off the  chains, and  soothed the irritated feelings  of
 furious  maniacs;  and succeeded in  restoring some of
 them to a consciousness of the dignity of their nature.
 The  first patient on whom he experimented was a
 Captain who had been  chained  forty years;  who had
 killed an officer of the Institution  with his manacles,
 and  was  supposed  to  be hopelessly lost to society.
 When soothed by kind assurances, and, on his promise
 of obedience, restored to liberty,  he employed the first
 hour of freedom in walking through the Hospital; and,
 as he looked at the sky,  he exclaimed in ecstacy, How
 beautiful!  From  that time he continued to improve,
 and, in two years, was restored to society and the pur-
 suits of life.
   It is remarkable that, while the large cities of  Europe
 and  this country  have,  during  the last half century,
 gradually advanced in the knowledge of lunacy as a
 disease, the interior has not been  much enlightened.
 It is  now a well ascertained fact, that lunacy, when
judiciously managed in its early periods, is as  curable
 as many  other forms of disease.  If allowed  to con-
 tinue without  judicious remedial attention, it becomes
 more intractable—the difficulty of treatment increasing
 with tlie period of neglect.   If we consider that,  by
 the medical statistics of  New York, and other sections 
                     INSANITY.                 233
 of the  country, it has been  ascertained that  one in
 every eight, or nine hundred of our population is a
 victim of this fearful calamity, the great importance of
 having the attention  of the  Legislature,  and of the
 State, directed to  this subject, will  be most manifest.
 The poor are supplied with food, clothing, and medi-
 cal  attendance  in our  alms-houses and  infirmaries.
 But the pauper lunatic is often confined in jails,  and
 other receptacles of misery or crime, where no proper
 curative plan can be adopted; and, thus, may be  for-
 ever lost to his friends and his country.   Paupers do
 not  form the  only class  of lunatics having claims on
 the  compassion of the  State.  The wealthy  lunatic
 should be  removed from his friends, and all the asso-
 ciations of place wiiich are connected with  the disease,
 that  he may have the  most favourable prospects for
 recovery.  In private practice, cases  of insanity  are,
 comparatively, so  rare with  any individual practitioner,
 that he cannot acquire, from  experience and observa-
 tion, the skill so essential to the successful treatment of
 this  formidable disease.  The advantages to he  derived
 from proper restraint,  from removal beyond injurious
 associations, and from experience, are eminently con-
 nected with well conducted Asylums.
  Your Committee do not  deem this to be a  suitable
 occasion to remark, at length, on  the delicate structure
 of the human mind, and  its consequent  liability to
 disease.  Like the statue of Memnon, which gave out
 sweet sounds  wiien it first  received the rays of  the
 rising sun, the mind of man responds in melody when
touched by the light of skilful  education.   If you 
234
INSANITY.
break one string of  the delicate instrument, it becomes
as silent as the same celebrated statue after it was over-
thrown by the Persian invader.  Nor will your Com-
mittee, on  this  occasion, attempt to excite your com-
miseration  by drawing a picture of the miserable  con-
dition of that portion of  our race, who are deprived of
the  healthy  exercise of that noble attribute  of our
nature which allies us to Deity.  That picture will be
presented, with more propriety, when this Report shall
come,  for final  action, before this House.   But  they
cannot refrain from  endeavouring to impress this House
with the conviction, that it is only by the judicious
application of  the means of  cure, derived  from a
knowledge of the philosophy  of the human mind, that
restoration can be reasonably expected.
  The attention of the State, your Committee believe,
has never before been particularly directed to her obli-
gations  to her helpless pauper lunatics.   Will Maryland
consent to remain so far behind other  States  in  this
work of benevolence?   Massachusetts has an Asylum
for  the  Insane Poor of  Boston:  the Asylum for poor
lunatics at Worcester, founded in 1833, and supported
by  large expense: the  McLean Asylum at Charles-
town, established in 1818.  Connecticut has provided
a Retreat for the Insane, which was opened in 1824:
and, in 1836, Vermont established, at Brattleboro', an
Asylum for the Insane  Poor.   New York has a State
Lunatic Asylum at Utica, with a farm of 120 acres,
and designed  to  accommodate one thousand inmates:
a private Asylum at Hudson: an Asylum for the Insane
Poor of the City of New York, on Blackwell's Island: 
INSANITY.
235
an Asylum for the Insane, at Bloomingdale.   Virginia
has  an Insane Asylum for Eastern Virginia, at Wil-
liamsburg.   This building was erected before the Revo-
lution;  and was  the first Insane Asylum established in,
this countiy,  With the exception of one department of
the  Pennsylvania  Hospital, in  Philadelphia, which
was  used for the insane  in 1752, it was the only  one
of the  18th century.   She  has also an  Asylum  for
Western  Virginia,  at Staunton.  Ohio has a Lunatic
Asylum at Columbus: Tennessee one at Nashville:  and
Kentucky one at Lexington.  Pennsylvania has been
prominent  in  attention  to  the  cause  of suffering
humanity.   The  mild  spirit  of the religion   of  her
founders hovers  over Philadelphia—well deserving the
name of the "City of Brotherly  Love": and, when
she  surveys her Hospitals and other Asylums, she may
exclaim with the Roman poet,
             "Exegi monumentum cere perennius."
And will Maryland refuse to follow such noble exam-
ples?*  Let her rather imitate the practice of the good
  ♦Since this Report was made, the following additional Asylums'
have been established in the United States:  An  Insane Hospital at
Augusta, Maine; Asylum for the Insane, at Milledgeville, Georgia;
New Hampshire Asylum for the Insane; Pennsylvania Hospital for
the Insane, two miles West of Philadelphia; State Asylum for the
Insane Poor in Pennsylvania, provided for by a law of 1841; and, I
believe, there is an Insane Asylum at  Columbia,  South  Carolina.
Some action—not decisive—has also  been taken oh this  subject in
New Jersey.  An appropriation  was made, during the late Session of
Congress—-1842—to provide accommodations for the pauper insane
of the District of Columbia.
  The Pennsylvania Hospital was chartered in 1751.  This Hospital,
and the Asylum at Williamsburg, Va, are the oldest Institutions in 
236
INSANITY.
 Samaritan,  by  pouring  the oil of  healing  into the
 wounded body, and the  oil  of consolation  into the
 bruised spirit.   In these Institutions, the observance of
 the  Sabbath,  and the  ministrations of religion are
 not  withheld: and  the  experience of late years  has
 proved,  that the shattered minds of such unfortunate
 victims may be led,  with advantage, to the contempla-
 tion  of the  Great Spirit from whom they came, and to
 whom they tend.   By  her fostering care, the State
 may cause the vacant eye of the lunatic to "kindle with
 the undying energies of genius;  and his  shrunk and
 shrivelled soul" may be  expanded by contemplations
 wiiich approach those of  a Seraph.
   Your  Committee  refer this House to the Interroga-
 tories and Answers,  which  form a part of this Report,
 for further details of the present condition and  wants of

 this country in which provision was made  for the treatment of
 insanity.  On the 20th of March,  1841, ninety-three insane patients
 were removed  to the new Pennsylvania Hospital for the Insane,
 mentioned in this note as two miles West of Philadelphia.  Between
 1752,  and 1841, thirty-eight thousand and four hundred patients had
 been received  into  the Pennsylvania Hospital; of which number,
 four thousand three hundred and sixty-six were insane.  The new
 Hospital for the Insane has been erected by the accumulated funds
 of the old  Pennsylvania Hospital—amounting to three hundred and
 twenty-five thousand dollars—and is the branch of that Institution
 designed, exclusively, for the accommodation of the insane.  This
 magnificent building is four hundred and thirty-six feet long; and is
 connected with a farm of  one hundred and twelve acres.  There is
also an Asylum for  the Insane—the notice of which was omitted in
the text—at Frankford, Pennsylvania, established in 1817.
  In noticing the different Asylums, the names by which they aie
known have been used.   This will account for what might, other-
 wise, be considered as useless repetition. 
INSANITY.
237
the Maryland Hospital; and they recommend the adop-
tion of  the following  Resolution:
   Resolved,  by the  General  Assembly  of Maryland,
That the Treasurer  of the Western Shore of Maryland
be, and he is hereby authorized and directed, to pay to
the  President  and Visitors of the  Maryland Hospital,
or to their order, the sum of  thirty thousand dollars, in
six equal annual payments, from and  after the passage
of this  Resolution;  to be by them  applied  for the
benefit  and  improvement of said Hospital: distinct
reference being had, in making the  improvements, to
its future exclusive use as a Lunatic Asylum: provided,
that the said President and Visitors give  bond  and
security, to  be approved  by the  Treasurer,  for the
faithful  disbursement and application of said sum of
money: and also provided, that one-half of said Insti-
tution shall hereafter be appropriated  to the accommo-
dation of pauper lunatics of this State; who shall there
be  accommodated at  the  expense of the  County so
sending such pauper lunatics; provided,  that the same
shall not exceed one hundred dollars for each pauper
lunatic  so accommodated.
Interrogatories,* by the Chairman of the Select Committee: and
      Answers, by the President of the Board of Visitors.
   Interrogatory 1.  What class of patients are re-
ceived into the Maryland Hospital: lunatics exclusively;
if  not, what  other patients?
  *These Interrogatories  and Answers—which form part of the Re-
port—are inserted  because they  give, in part, a  concise history of
the Institution.  The history will be made more complete by adding
the following list of Laws and Resolutions, prepared, by request, by
       21 
238
INSANITY.
   Answer.  By the law of  1828,  all  patients  are to
be admitted,  excepting those afflicted  with contagious

David Ridgely, Esq., late librarian  of the Maryland  State Library.
The provision for lunatics of this State does not afford accommoda-
tion for the whole of that unfortunate class of our citizens: but, in
the present  embarrassed condition of the State finances, nothing
further can be accomplished.  It will be the duty of the friends of
humanity, at some more propitious  period, to bring this  subject be-
fore the Legislature; and, as an article for future reference to aid in
the accomplishment of this object,  the  following list of Laws and
Resolutions  was obtained, that a condensed view  of legislation in
Maryland, in relation to insanity, might  be presented.
     Laws and Resolutions in relation to the Maryland Hospital:
                            Laws.
179.3. ch.  57.  Sec. 7.  A temporary hospital to be erected, &c.
1797. ch. 102.  $8000 to be applied to the establishment of, &c.
1797. ch. 114.  Sec. 7.  Lunatics to be received, &c.
1808. ch. 106.  A Lottery to improve, &c.
1811. ch. 140.  $5000 to be paid to  Drs. Colin M'Kenzie and James
                 Smyth, for three  years; and pauper lunatics from
                 the Counties to be received on the same terms as
                 from  Baltimore City.
1813. ch.  21.  The  Chancellor,  on proper application, to commit
                 lunatics and idiots to the Maryland Hospital.
1816. ch. 156.  Maryland Hospital incorporated,  and a President
                 and Board of Visitors appointed.
1817. ch.  78.  Levy Courts authorized  to remove pauper lunatics
                 from the Counties to the Maryland Hospital: and
                 providing that the Counties pay $100 per annum
                 for each pauper lunatic so removed.
1824. ch.  49.  What description of persons to be considered pauper
                 lunatics.
1826. ch. 259.  Buildings to be  erected, &c: and authorizing the
                 conveyance of the claims of the City of Baltimore
                 to  the  Maryland Hospital, to the  President and
                 Board of Visitors of said  Hospital: in  virtue of
                 which Act, the Hospital became the property of
                 the State of Maryland. 
INSANITY.
239
diseases.   The  Institution has,  however, from  several
causes,  become  more  a Lunatic  Asylum than  a
general  Hospital:   1st.  On account of  the establish-
ment  of the  Infirmary;  2d.  Because  patients,  with
ordinaiy diseases, do not like  to be in an Insane Hos-
pital,  for fear of the  character of insanity being  fixed
upon  them.
   Inter. 2. What  number of  lunatics were  in  the
Hospital when  it came  into your  possession in 1834;
and what number now?
   Ans. The Board  of Directors  took  charge  of the
Maryland Hospital, 1st January, 1834.   At that  time

1827. ch. 205.  Incorporating the Maryland Hospital as the property
                of the  State, and appointing a President and
                Board of Visitors.
                       Resolutions.
1816. No. 45.  Drs. Colin M'Kenzie and James  Smyth to borrow
                $5000 annually  for the term of  six years.
1819. No. 52.  Dr. C. M'Kenzie to  receive from the Treasurer the
                first instalment.
   Similar resolutions were passed every year,  until the six instal-
 ments  were paid.
 1832. No. 75.  Treasurer to  pay to the President and  Board of
                Visitors $5000 for repairs.
 1833. No. 94.  To be surrendered, on certain conditions,  to the
                Mayor and City Council of Baltimore for  a Lu-
                natic Asylum.*
 1835. No. 75.   Treasurer to pay to  the President and  Board of
                Visitors $15,000 in three annual instalments.
 183S.  No. 65.   Treasurer to pay  the President and Board of Visi-
                tors $30,000 in six annual payments of $5000 each.
 1838.  No. 66.   The President and Visitors to refund surplus, if any:
                and to report annually to the Legislature.
   *On inquiry at the office of the Mayor and City Council, it has been
 ascertained that no  action followed this Resolution; consequently, the
 Hospital did not become the property of Baltimore. 
240
INSANITY.
there  were twenty-six patients in all; eighteen were
lunatics.   During the year, one hundred and  seven
patients were  treated  for various diseases;  of  whom
seventy-nine were lunatics.  During  the year  1838,
two hundred and seventy-two patients were admitted:
of whom one hundred and fifteen were lunatics; thirty-
two from intemperance, and sixteen from mania a potu;
making one hundred and sixty-three in the  lunatic de-
partment for the year.  At this time there are sixty-one
patients in the house; of whom fifty-three  are  in the
lunatic department.
   Inter. 3. If the Hospital were complete in  build-
ings and furniture, and free from debt, would it be able
to support itself?
   Ans. The Hospital is not at  all in debt.   It  has
supported itself since it was under the direction of this
board, in 1834; and  will always be able to do so.   The
board only require to have the necessary buildings and
furniture to commence with; the Institution can always
keep  up a stock of  furniture, if once  purchased.   At
this time the house  is well furnished for the number of
patients contained in it.
   Inter. 4.  How  many  pauper lunatics from the
several Counties are at this time in the Institution?
   Ans. There are  at this time ten.
   Inter. 5. Are such patients paid  for punctually; if
not, what plan would you recommend  to secure prompt
payment?
   Ans. They are not paid for punctually.  In some
instances, the  clerks of the Levy  Courts will not even
answer letters  addressed to them.  The only plan that 
INSANITY.
241
can be adopted to secure the  regular payment of the
dues from  the Counties, is the  one adopted by the
I iCgislature of Massachusetts;  obliging each County to
pay the amount due for each  pauper lunatic that may
be sent to the  Hospital, to the treasurer of the State,
at the time of sending the patient  to the Hospital.
The board  should then be authorized to draw on the
treasurer of the State for the amount.
   Inter. 6.  Is  the price  at present paid  for such
pauper lunatics sufficient to defray their necessary ex-
penses;  if not, wiiat increase is required.
   Ans. The sum  now paid,  £100, is not sufficient.
It is barely sufficient  to feed  and take care of them.
For clothing and  fuel, no provision is made;  and the
expense of their necessaries may be put down at £25
each.   But for the benefits arising from the pay-pa-
tients, the Institution could not be supported at all.
   Inter. 7.  What  number  of officers are now em-
ployed in the  Institution; and wiiat their salaries?
   Ans. The President of the Board of Directors, who
is the general  manager of the Institution, as regards its
finances and  its internal government, with a salaiy of
£500: one  resident physician, salary £1000:  twelve
nurses,  at $5 each, per month: Three hired women, at
£5 per month each, and three men   at £10  each  per
month.
   Inter. 8.  What  number of lunatics require close
confinement;  and  how many apartments have you
for the accommodation of such patients?
   Ans. All lunatics require separate, and—at times-
may  require  close  confinement, as  stated in answer
       21* 
242
INSANITY
second.   There  are  fifty-three lunatics now  in the
house; and there  are forty-eight  rooms  proper for
lunatic patients—some of them still  requiring bars to
the windows.  There are also ten rooms on the ground
floor, in which the pauper lunatic patients are accom-
modated.   They are, however, damp, and not as good
as should be provided for  this unfortunate and helpless
class of beings.   It  has  frequently  occurred, during
the two last years, that the Institution had, atone time,
between sixty and  seventy lunatic  patients.  At one
period there  were seventy-four.   We wrere  of course
obliged to  place several  in one room,  taking proper
precautions to guard them.   At  that  time we  were
obliged to refuse admission  to some patients of both
classes—pay  as well as pauper.
   Inter.  9.  How  many such apartments, additional,
would the  completion of the West wing afford?
   Ans. The  completion  of  the   West  wing,  and
of the  third  story  of the  centre  building,  together
with three  or four small  out-houses for the very  noisy
patients—a thing  most  desirable—might  enable  us
to  accommodate about fifty more lunatics,  in  single
rooms each.
   Inter.  10. What appropriation do you now require,
and for what purposes; and have you ascertained, from
competent  judges, the probable cost  of such improve-
ments?
   Ans. It is the opinion of the board that forty thou-
sand dollars will be  required, to do all  that is deemed.
needful to give  full effect to  this Institution;  which
should  not only be complete as a building, but should 
INSANITY.
243
have the grounds around  it as convenient and attractive
as the cause  of humanity  requires for such  purposes.
A wall* around the  entire grounds is indispensable for
the protection and government of the lunatic patients.
This  will  cost from  eight  to ten thousand  dollars,
according to  its height;  the West wing  about twenty
thousand dollars;  the third story of the  building  two
thousand dollars;  roofing the main building with tin to

  *The Boston  Prison Discipline Society published  the  Speech—
which is  inserted in this volume  next to this Report—with these
Interrogatories and Answers, in their Fourteenth  Annual Report;
and, commenting on this  proposal to build a wall, say, "We think
$10,000 may be saved in the proposed improvements, by not building
the wall as contemplated; of which we have no doubt they would
be convinced by visiting the  Institutions  at Hartford,  Worcester,
and Charlestown, where  they have no such enclosures;  and  would
not have them, if they could  be built for nothing."  And in the
Sixteenth Annual Report, speaking of the Maryland Hospital, they
say, "It was proposed to enclose this land with a high wall, at an
expense of $10,000.   We hope this part of the plan has been aban-
doned, as it would be money worse than  thrown  away; giving the
place a prison-like appearance, without the least utility."  Perhaps
there may be something in the local circumstances of this Institution
which induced the Board of Visitors to recommend the erection of the
enclosure.  At the new  Pennsylvania Hospital for the Insane, two
miles West of Philadelphia—and to which is attached a farm of one
hundred  and twelve acres—forty-one acres are  appropriated as a
pleasure ground and vegetable garden, and are surrounded by a sub-
stantial stone wall.  The wall is five  thousand four hundred and
eighty feet long, and ten and a half feet high.  But, from the char-
acter of the ground, only a small portion of the wall  can be  seen
from any one position; and this circumstance, in connexion with the
size  of the enclosure, prevents what might otherwise arise—the
unpleasant impression of restraint upon  the patients.  The  West
side does not seem to be  enclosed, as, from its position, the wall does
not appear;  and the patients have a beautiful view of "two public
roads, the farm and meadow,  a mill-race, a fine stream of running
water, and two large manufactories." 
244
INSANITY.
render it fire-proof, furniture, and improvement to the
grounds, about eight thousand  dollars;  in all  forty
thousand dollars.
  Inter.  11.  What sums have been  appropriated for
the Institution, since  it came into your possession? In
what years made, and how applied?
  Ans. The  sum of £5000 w7as given,  when the
Institution first went  into operation, for repairs, furni-
ture, and  provisions  to  commence with.   This sum
proved inadequate for the repairs and  furniture, and  a
debt of near £7000  was contracted  for repairs  and
furniture.   To liquidate  this debt,  to purchase a lot of
ground of three acres and a half, to build furnaces, six in
number, and to construct fourteen  new rooms in the
East  wing, the  Legislature granted, in 1836, fifteen
thousand dollars, payable in three annual instalments.
The money was borrowed in anticipation, at a discount,
to make the necessary arrangements; and consequently
the Hospital did  not receive  the  full benefit of the
appropriation.
  Inter. 12.  What  number of patients  had you the
first year of your administration; what the receipts from
them;  and what the number of patients  and  the re-
ceipts the past year?
  Ans. The total number of  patients during the first
year,  1834, was  one hundred and seven.  And the
amount received by the Hospital for board of patients
£4500.   Six hundred dollars were given for provisions
in this year, out of the  first  sum  appropriated.   Not
one dollar  has been  required since for the support of
the patients.   During the last year  two hundred and 
INSANITY.
245
seventy-two patients have enjoyed the benefit of the
Hospital; and the total receipts are about £15,000, with
good debts of  about £3000 more, which will be col-
lected during this year.   The disbursements, and the
responsibilities of the house amount to about the same
sum.
  Inter. 13.  Does the want  of accommodations com-
pel you to refuse admission to patients?
  Ans. We have  been  obliged  to refuse  patients—
some from  the Counties—and some were good  pay-
patients.  The Institution cannot, in any way, accom-
modate more  than ten or twelve pauper lunatics; and
it is presumed there are at this time about one hundred
in the State of Maryland.  Some are in the Baltimore
County  alms-house, and other  alms-houses of the
several Counties; whilst others are in jails, or confined
among their friends.  This  is a matter of  deep soli-
citude to  all benevolent persons who  have turned their
attention  to the care of lunatic paupers in this State;
and it  is hoped the wisdom and benevolence of our
Legislature will not be less conspicuous for this charity
than Massachusetts, Vermont, Ohio, New York, Penn-
sylvania, Virginia, and some other States, which have
given, and still give, much attention to this subject.
   Inter. 14. Would you advise the construction of a
wall  around  the Hospital  ground; if so,  for  what
reasons, and what the probable cost?
   Ans.  A wall around the grounds of the Institution is
all important, not only to keep the patients from running
off; but to keep them from intercourse  with the popu-
lation around the Hospital.  The cost, as stated above,
would be about eight or ten thousand dollars. 
246
INSANITY.
  Inter. 15. Would you recommend that the Institu-
tion should, at a proper period, become exclusively a
Lunatic Asylum?
  Ans. I do urgently recommend that the Institution
should be made subservient only to the treatment of
lunacy, because there should be such an Institution in
our State; and it is a fact well established, that lunatics
should not be mixed with other patients.  The rules
for the two classes of patients do  not harmonize.
  Inter. 16. What proportion  do  your lunatic  pa-
tients bear to those from other causes and diseases?
  Ans. We have at this time sixty-one patients in the
house; of  whom fifty-three are  lunatic, and mania a
potu patients. 
SPEECH ON INSANITY,
Delivered in the House of Delegates, in support of the
          preceding Report.  March \§th, 1839.
Mr. Speaker:
       I appear  with great reluctance, at this  late
hour, before this House, the  members of which  must
be already exhausted  by the important and protracted
discussions of the morning.  But, Sir,  as it seems to
be the desire of honourable members that this Report
should, at this time, receive their attention, I wTaive all
personal considerations, and proceed with the discussion.
  I am proud to  adopt as a maxim for the regulation'
of my conduct, the  line of Terence which was re-
ceived with boundless applause when first  spoken on
a Roman stage,
         Homo sum: nihil humani a me alienum puto.

In  the discharge  of  the duty which you, Sir,  as the
presiding officer of this House, assigned to me, I ap-
pear here this morning as the humble advocate of the
pauper lunatics  of  the State of  Maryland.   And,
while  I express  my  regret that  greater powTers than
those I may  possess are not brought to bear upon this
interesting subject, I most  respectfully say  to  this
House, in the words of Brutus  when he would justify 
248
SPEECH ON INSANITY.
himself before the citizens of Rome for Caesar's death,
Hear me for my cause.
   An equal exposure to common misfortune unites the
great human family in efforts to relieve the distressed.
If we were told that the inhabitants of a remote por-
tion of the world were suffering the miseries of famine,
our sympathies  would  be excited,  and no  expense
would be spared to afford them aid.  Even the soldier
who has just passed through the tumultuous strife, as
he walks over the battle-field covered with the wounded,
the dying, and  the dead, raises the foe whom perhaps
his own steel had pierced, and "bathes every wound
with a tear."
   Sir, insanity is the most fearful of all the calamities
which afflict our race.  Reason is the great attribute of
our nature.   Hence,  it will  readily appear  why the
distant approaches  of insanity  should  be perceived
with horror by the unfortunate victim.   An  immortal
poet of England, who, during portions of his life, was
afflicted with one form of this malady, concludes a
description of a lovely  being, who was  hurried by
blighted  affections to  the extremities of despair, with
the simple yet pathetic words in which he appears to
have condensed all his conceptions of the highest de-
gree of human suffering, "Kate is crazed."   The idol
of Ireland of his day—the great author of  the Dra-
pier's Letters—when, in the  vicinity of Dublin, he
stood  and contemplated an oak decayed at the  top,
and, placing his hand  on his head, told  his friends he
should die like that tree, had a sad premonition of the
fate which awaited him.   The discord of the  most 
SPEECH ON INSANITY.
249
delicate instrument  is soonest discovered by him who
is  most accustomed to its use.   Sir, the kingdom of
mind,  like that of  matter, gives indications of ap-
proaching derangement.   When  the volcano is about
to pour forth the lava  which destroys all surrounding
objects; or the earth to open her bosom  to receive the
bodies and the habitations of men, the distant rumbling,
and the mighty throe foretell the coming doom.
  Sir, the age in which we live is one of progression;
and the wonderful improvements in science and the
mechanic arts have almost entirely changed the condi-
tion of the world.   Amidst this general advancement,
medical science has not been  stationary; and one of
the most remarkable changes has been in the mode of
treating lunacy.   Until a recent  period, insanity  was
considered an incurable disease; and the opinion  was
entertained that  it was a judgment of heaven which
could not  be reversed by human  art.  And, when the
judicial tribunals pronounced a person to be insane, he
was consigned to the abode of  the  convict, wiiere his
life was passed in  abject, helpless, hopeless wretched-
ness; "in violation  of the very decisions of your laws,
by which you distinguish infirmities, which are misfor-
tunes, from motives, which are  crimes."  And, Sir, if
a faithful picture of the  pitiable  condition of the in-
sane pauper could  be drawn—confined in his lonely
cell, deprived of the sweet air and light of heaven,
cast off from all  the tender charities of life, forced into
returnless  banishment—the recital,  like the  lyre of
Orpheus, would move the very stones to pity.  Sir, I
do not design to impugn the wisdom or mercy of the
       22 
250
SPEECH ON INSANITY.
Great Disposer.  I ask not why he should thus allow
a derangement  of  those faculties of the creature, by
which he is allied to his Creator.  In this, as in other
mysteries,  I "wait the great teacher death,  and  God
adore."   Above me, beneath me, around me are mys-
teries: Sir,  I am a  mystery to myself.
  The condition of the wealthy lunatic of your State,
deplorable as it may be, is not remediless.  He can be
sent by his  friends to Pennsylvania, New York, Massa-
chusetts, or Virginia:  States whose  enlarged benevo-
lence has made provision for  the unfortunate.  But,
even  he is separated from  those who would take a
mournful  pleasure in inquiring  at  the  door  of the
Asylum for the victim's  fate;  and,  when he dies un-
cured, he is laid in a  grave remote  from those  where
his kindred sleep, in violation of that principle  of our
nature which made barbarians exclaim, when told they
must emigrate, Can we say to the bones of our fathers,
arise and go with us?  But, Sir,  your pauper lunatics
have no means to take them  from their blighted homes.
The State  has provided for them no Asylum; and  they
are placed  in alms-houses where they cannot be cured,
or confined in prisons, bearing a convict's chain in a
convict's cell.   You  reclaim  your friend from his
moral aberrations by kindness,  not by  severity: when
his body is wounded, you allow the ulcer to heal by
keeping it  free from  irritation: but, you permit your
lunatics to  be confined in places where they are ex-
posed to constant annoyances, although their sensibili-
ties to pain are exquisitely quickened: and thus forever
destroy all  hope of curing a mind whose disease is ir- 
               SPEECH ON INSANITY.           251
regularity hurried on to delirium, and which should be
pacified and soothed, that it may return to harmonious
action.   Why, Sir, the very dog along your highways
will not attack a lunatic.   The same Great Being who
deprived him of reason, gives  him a protection, in the
expression of his  features, from  the  assaults of the
lower orders of creation.   And shall not man indulge
sympathy, and make provision for his suffering fellow?
  It would not be difficult,  Mr. Speaker,  to  assign
reasons why the poor  should  be liable to lunacy, from
the circumstances of early education; the privations,
and, too  often, the despair of  subsequent life.   What,
Sir,  is the condition  of  the child of the  poor?  The
almost daily demands of hunger cause  a premature
developement of thought.  The  mother, amidst the
pressure  of her hourly occupations and sorrows, has no
time to relieve its sufferings, to soothe its cries, to "kiss
away its  tears."   The food it  receives does not supply
the nourishment wiiich its young nature requires.   It
is not  delighted with songs,  and toys, and "nursery-
tales."   The dreams  of the  cradle which visit the
children  of the rich,  never fill its young mind with
hopes of the future.   Almost  as soon as it can walk,
it is allowed  to live  in  streets and alleys, where  it
receives every kind of moral contamination.  Can you
wonder that such an education should predispose the
mind to  disease?
  If the citizens of Maryland could be assembled, and
listen to the appeal which the condition  of the pauper
insane would  address to their sympathies, I would be
content to leave the fate of this Report to their decision. 
252           SPEECH  ON INSANITY.
We represent the State, and  should feel it to be our
duty, to consult her wishes and her honour.   We have
this  morning passed a Bill  to  abolish the  law  of
imprisonment for debt.  I ask this House to consum-
mate  the labours of the day by the adoption of this
Resolution, which is designed to provide for the relief
of the far  more pitiable  imprisonment of the mind.
As far as I am  informed, this subject has never before
been brought under the consideration of the Legisla-
ture of this State.  Maryland has been lost, in profound
forgetfulness, to this branch of the cause of suffering
humanity;  wiiile other States, as shown in the Report,
have  erected Asylums,  and made  ample provision for
their maintenance.   It is time for  her to awake: not
like Samson when he raised his head  from the lap of
Delilah, with shorn locks and wasted strength, but as a
strong man refreshed by slumber.
  Sir, I do not design to go over the details contained
in the Report I had the honour to present to this House.
In that  Report 1 attempted to shew that insanity, when
treated in its early stages, is as curable as other forms of
disease; that it  is only in well conducted Asylums that
proper treatment, mental and physical, can be adopted;
(and this is the great argument in favour of the estab-
lishment of Lunatic Asylums;) that it is only in such
institutions the necessary medical skill can be acquired
by experience; and, that even the wealthy lunatic
cannot be properly attended  at  his own home, sur-
rounded by  all the associations  connected  with   his
disease.
  In the answer  to the  thirteenth  Interrogatory of the
Report, the  President  of the board  says  the Hos- 
              SPEECH ON INSANITY.           253
pital cannot  now accommodate  more  than  ten or
twelve pauper  lunatics;  and he  presumes there are
about  one hundred in  the  State.  Where  are  the
ninety?  Again I ask you,  where  are  the  ninety?
Sir,  when I  tell you  they  are  in the  abodes of
misery, or guilt—in alms-houses, or common jails,
or confined among  their  poor  friends,  where, from
the  very  circumstances  of their situation, they  are
utterly, incurably,  irredeemably  lost  to  society,  I
am  sure your heart will bleed.  Sir, compassion for
the helpless brought the Saviour from heaven.   Com-
miseration for the poor was adduced by himself, as one
of the evidences of the truth of the system he came to
establish.   Sir, you may close your alms-houses:  you
may turn out their miserable  inmates to beg a scanty
pittance  by the way-side.  They will not be entirely
miserable; for their reason is left to them;  and  they can
contemplate the beautiful sky, and the green landscape,
and the wide ocean, and think of the Great Spirit, and
look forward with hope to the hour when they shall
repose from their sorrows in the bosom of the Earth,
their mother.  But, the  pauper lunatic has  no  light
within to  enable him to discover and enjoy the beauties
and glories that are around, and beyond  him.  The
State makes ample provision for every other class of
the  poor: but this, by far the most destitute class, she
has hitherto neglected.   Legislators of Maryland, "lend
me  your  ears."  Friends of humanity,  listen to my
appeal.  Make this appropriation for the completion of
this Asylum, and, through life, you will think of the
act  with  an approving conscience.  When you see a
       22* 
254
SPEECH ON INSANITY.
poor lunatic, you will know you did all in your power
to provide for his misfortunes; and if, in the revolutions
of human affairs, privation and sorrow should be your
portion, you may expect to receive the tender compas-
sion you  now extend to others.
  Sir, men have ever sought to perpetuate by monu-
ments the memory  of their  names.  The  Pyramids
have withstood the storms of three thousand years, and
will resist those of thousands yet  to  come; but, the
names of their builders  have perished, or are known
only in fable.   The same desire of immortality induced
the incendiary to fire  the  temple of Diana, that  he
might thus connect his name with one of the seven
wonders of the world.   But, Sir, I had rather have the
reputation of Howard, who passed his life in exploring
the abodes of misery that he might be able to devise
better plans for the relief of the unfortunate, than that
of Napoleon, who built a splendid name on crowns
and kingdoms desecrated and overthrown, and on the
bleached bones of slaughtered  millions.  Sir, I had
rather that my humble name should go down to pos-
terity, in connexion with some plan for the relief of
suffering human nature, than have it inscribed on the
proudest  monument of  stone or marble ever built by
the hands of man.  We only fulfil our great destiny
when our lives are passed in efforts, however humble,
to promote the happiness of our race.   Sir, the monu-
ments that have  been erected to perpetuate deeds and
names will crumble and fall: and, when  fierce  Ruin
shall drive her plough-share over and around their base,
the "Ilium fuit" will be all that is left.  But, Sir, this 
               SPEECH ON INSANITY.           255
will not be the case with  a monument erected to the
great cause  of suffering humanity.   That is a monu-
ment of which  it can with  truth be  said,  that the
storms  of  heaven, and the waves of ocean,  and the
decay of ages, shall assail  it in vain.
   Sir, the pauper lunatic of your State, in utter desti-
tution, knocks to-day at the door of this Hall, and sues
for pity.   Behold him there, with his rayless eye, his
irregular motion, his ragged vestments:  himself a living,
walking sepulchre, in which  his  mind  is entombed as
in the solitude of the grave.   He tells you he has none
to provide for him—none  to pity him; and, in tones of
supplication, he asks the State, his mother, to open her
arms, and take her outcast child to her bosom.*
  *The  Resolution was adopted by the House: and, having  subse-
quently passed the Senate, became a law. The appropriation  has
been expended; and we are indebted to its judicious application by
the President and Board of Visitors, for the improvements to this
noble Institution.  The old West  wing, which  was the original
Institution of 1797, had gone into entire ruin.  This has been re-
moved, and  a new  wing  erected.   The  third story of the centre-
building  is  finished: and, thus, the original plan for the edifice has
been completed. 
 
REMARKS,*
On Insolvency with Fraud, made it* the House of Dele-
                 gates, January 2:id, 1839.
   My  friend from  Baltimore County appeals,  Mr.
Speaker, to my  humanity.  He asks  why I am  dis-
posed, by this amendment, to oppress this individual.
Sir, I will not indulge before this House in remarks to
prove the kinder feelings of our nature that may belong
to my character.   On that subject I appeal to my  life;
and am perfectly willing  to  abide the verdict wiiich
may be rendered from that evidence.  Sir, the  misfor-
tunes of our  race claim, and receive  deep  commisera-
tion  from every wrell constituted mind—every benevo-
lent  heart.  The judgment of man is not unerring in
choosing his ends, or the means by which  he may  at-
tain them.  That would be perfect wisdom.  No mat-
ter how  profound may be  the consideration of  our

  *A Bill was brought before the House for the relief of a citizen of
Baltimore County, who was under imprisonment for debt; the cir-
cumstances of the case justifying a suspicion of fraud. The passage
of the Bill was supported by a member from Baltimore County; and
an amendment was offered, providing that the debtor should be released
by the commissioners of insolvent debtors, if, on inquiry into the case,
they did not  ascertain he had been guilty of fraud within one month
prior to his application for the benefit of the Act.  An appeal having
been made to the humanity of the mover of the  amendment to in-
duce him to withdraw it, the following remarks were offered in reply. 
25S
REMARKS.
plans, they may fail; and his heart must be obdurate
indeed,  who  would  punish an unfortunate man  for
events over which he had no control.   But, we must
not forget, that, as members of society,  the dictates of
humanity are not always to  direct our actions.   Justice
also has her claims; and when the indulgence of humane
emotions conflicts with the  claims of justice, the good
of the wiiole requires the sacrifice.  Sir, on that prin-
ciple society  is constituted:  abandon it,  and the social
fabric must fall.  We surrender to social lawr a part of
our natural rights; and, in return, wre claim the protec-
tion afforded by her ample shield.
  Sir, have the mercantile community  no claims on
your consideration?  Are they to be preyed on by the
dishonest, and the offenders be permitted to  escape?
What are the facts of this case?  This petitioner from
Baltimore County purchased goods in the city  of Bal-
timore;  and  is said to have taken them home, and,
without having unpacked the boxes, to have transferred
them to members of his own family to  secure  a debt
he owed them; and then he applied for  the benefit of
the insolvent  laws.
  Nowr, Mr. Speaker, what does my amendment pro-
pose?  It simply  provides that the commissioners of
insolvent debtors shall give him a discharge, if, on in-
quiry, they find he was not guilty of fraud within one
month before  he  applied for the benefit of the Act.
Sir, is there any thing oppressive in this provision? I
do not say this applicant has been guilty of this fraud.
I only state that the charge has been made.   He ap-
plied to  the commissioners, and they refused him.  He 
                    REMARKS.                259
appealed to the Court, and was rejected: was tried, Sir,
by a jury of his peers, and condemned.  And now he
applies to this House, as a  Court of the last resort,  to
give him a discharge; and denies that he has been
guilty of fraud.  Does the amendment oppress him'/
If he have not been guilty of fraud,  the amendment
does not touch him.  If he have been guilty of a dis-
honest act, so  flagrant,  what member of  this House
will say he ought not to be punished?
  Sir, the honourable member from Baltimore County
appeals  to your sympathy.  He states that this  peti-
tioner has already been confined in jail for nearly two
years; and  has, therefore, suffered sufficiently.   But,
Sir,  for what has he suffered?   Not for fraud, but for
debt.  If he did not commit  the alleged fraud, he
ought to  go free;  and I  wrould  vote for his discharge
without the  hesitation of a moment.   But, if he be
guilty of fraud, let him be convicted; and then will be
the proper time for the interference of judicial mercy.
Sir,  to what would the doctrine of  the  honourable
member lead?  You might  go into your penitentiary,
and find  unfortunate victims of crime, who, in some
unguarded moment, had yielded to  the promptings of
their evil spirit: some devotee  of pleasure, who had
cast himself on the bosom of the waters of self-indul-
gence, and  wras carried by their tide over a precipice as
fatal to his moral being,  as  the falls of Niagara would
be to the safety  of his person: some husband whose
companion is mourning her desolation; whose  children
are inquiring  with tears  of  a heart-broken  mother,
Where is the father to whose protection the laws of 
260
REMARKS.
nature give us a claim?  Sir, adopt the doctrine of the
honourable member, and you may go to your peniten-
tiary, and open its doors, and make its inmates  as free
as the four winds of heaven wiiich blow  above your
head.
  Mr. Speaker, I am entirely  aware of the  weakness
of human nature:  of  the  powder of  temptation.  I
have observed it in others:  Sir, I  have felt  it  within
myself.   With feelings of deep humiliation as a mem-
ber of the human  family,  I  admit the necessity of
laws to  prevent  the  commission  of  crimes.  I am
aware that vindicatory justice does not belong to earthly
tribunals.  Our laws are designed for the protection of
society; and  they present the  transgressor as an ex-
ample to others, by which they may be restrained from
a similar violation of the rights of men.  At the same
time, they endeavour to  promote the reformation of the
offender, who has justly been  made to feel  the force
of their penalties.  It is an admitted principle with all
legislators, that the  certainty  of punishment  would
more effectually  ensure the obedience to law, than
could be attained by enactments more severe, when a
false humanity shields the transgressor from the penal-
ties due to his crimes.   Then, Sir, is it just to make
appeals to our humanity, that  we  may be induced to
defeat the objects  of our Penal Code? Is a member of
this House to be charged with inhumanity, because he
desires to give efficiency to laws which this House has
aided to enact? Sir, while I  will always be desirous to
extend mercy to  the unfortunate, I ask for justice  for
the merchants of the city I  have the  honour, in part,
to represent. 
REMARKS,*
Made in the House of Delegates, during the LA3T night
             of the Session, April 5th, 1839.
   I confess, Mr. Speaker, my astonishment at  the
course of this debate.   When I left  Baltimore, three
months since, she was supposed to be in a prosperous
condition.   Her monuments and her  spires pointed
proudly towards heaven; the  sounds  of business were
heard along her streets and in her factories; the sails of
her ships were unfurled along her wharves; the owners
of her fifty millions of property did not dream of any
want of security in their possessions.  Butthe argument
on the Bill, now before this House, is conducted  as it
would be, if she were in the condition of  bankruptcy.
  Now,  Sir, is this the fact?  Does any member on
this floor  seriously  believe the State wrould incur any
risk by the exchange of bonds provided for in this Bill?
I have been informed that  Baltimore five  per  cent.
stocks, of recent emission, have been bought up by a few
German Houses; and, that her six per cent, stocks have
always been at par, or commanded a premium.  Doe-
  *The following remarks were made in support of a Bill from the
Committee on Ways and Means, which provided for the transfer of
bonds of the State of Maryland to the  City of Baltimore, in ex-
change for similar bonds; to enable the city to pay her subscription
to the Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road Company.
       23 
262
REMARKS.
any member here  believe the State would  incur  any
risk by this guarantee?  Let him look at her  streets
crowded with business; at her well filled and spacious
warehouses.   Let  him consider the character of her
merchants, as intelligent, high-minded, and successful,
as those of any other city; and who have carried the
proud name of your State into  every port where your
ships have entered.
  Sir, why does Baltimore ask this guarantee?  Because
it is even supposed to be possible that the  State  will
ever be called on to pay the bonds?  NotatallSir.  The
application is based on a principle which is recognized
every day by  your  banks.   No matter what may be
the known and acknowledged wealth of the individual
who applies for a discount, an  endorser is  required.
This is an indispensable part of the business transac-
tion.  And is it not the interest of the State at large to
enable Baltimore, a part of herself, to  obtain the loan
on the best possible terms?  For this purpose it is that
she asks the use of the name and credit of  the State.
  The gentleman from Prince George, lays it down as
an axiom, that the  public credit is only to be used for
the public good.   I admit its truth, and contend for its
application to  the  case before  this House.  Sir,  the
prosperity  of  the  Counties  is indissolubly connected
with the prosperity of your Metropolis; and I tell every
land-holder on this floor, that  he cannot cripple  her
energies, without seriously affecting  the value of his
lands.   Pennsylvania and New York are making gigan-
tic efforts to obtain the trade of the countiy beyond us;
and are pouring out their treasures like water to accom- 
REMARKS.
263
plish this object.   If this trade be once diverted from our
territory, it is lost to us forever.
  Sir, the question of the policy of our undertaking
the construction of the Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road,
is not now before this House.  Our  predecessors on
this  floor settled that question; and,  I believe, they
settled it wisely.  The necessity for that  great work
was suggested by the  enterprising spirit of the times;
and, Maryland would  have been false to her true in-
terests, if she had folded  her arms, and  looked  with
indifference on the strife for mastery which was main-
tained by other States.  Sir, our predecessors paused
on the banks of the Rubicon.  After they have made the
plunge and passed the stream, it is too late for us to
look behind: the work must be accomplished.  A man
who  stakes his fortune on  an act must "stand the
hazard of the  die."  Baltimore is the  heart of the
State; and this great work will be the Aorta—the large
artery—which will circulate healthy action  to every
part of the system.   We  have already invested  large
sums in this work;  and, if  we abandon it now, posterity
must pay the penalty imposed by our wTant of wisdom
in having commenced the construction, without being
able  to  finish.   Sir, we  have all  been  taught  from
childhood, the folly of the man who begins  to build  a
house, and abandons it before completion.
   Mr. Speaker, I deeply  regret to have  observed, on
various  occasions,  on this floor, the existence of jea-
lousies towards the city, which, of necessity, must be
the centre of our commercial  system.   Do  members
from any sections of the  State, suppose they advance 
264
REMARKS.
the interests of their constituents,  by depressing her?
Are not their interests connected with her  prosperity?
Sir,  this is no  new exhibition  of the  character  of
men.   More  than two thousand years ago, Menenius
Agrippa appeased the dissatisfaction of  the people of
Rome, by  the well known fable  of the  belly and
the limbs.   The Counties  ought to understand, that,
if  proper nourishment be withheld  from the centre,
the legs and arms will very soon share in the  debility
which must  ensue.  But, Sir, at this midnight  hour,
so near the close of the  Session, and with so much
important business to be  transacted in the few  hours
that remain, I will not  longer  continue to  occupy the
attention of this House. 
SPEECH,*
      Delivered at Havre-de-Grace, May 27th, 1840.
Mr. Chairman:
        In the discharge of the duty assigned to me, as
a member of that  Legislature to which reference has
been made in the sentiment just offered, I rise to return
all  due acknowledgments.   I ask  your kind indul
gence,  while I avail myself of this opportunity to offer
a few remarks  on the interesting occasion which has
caused  us to assemble  here:  interesting to the whole
country, as one great family having a common concern
in the  welfare of all  its  members: to us  particularly
interesting,  as more immediately connected  with the
great work, the  completion of which we this day cele-
brate.   There  is one  view wiiich  invests this celebra-
tion with peculiar importance to Maryland.  She has
  *This  Speech was delivered, by request of the Directors, at the
celebration of the completion of the Susquehanna and Tide  Water
Canal; and was made in reply to the following toast:
  The Legislature of Maryland of 1838-'39.—The million loaned  by
that body to the Tide Water Canal, while it is an honourable evi-
dence of their liberality, will ever remain also as a memorial of their
wisdom.
  On the same occasion, Speeches were made by the Hon. John P.
Kennedy, of Baltimore; Ovid F. Johnson, Esq., Attorney-General of
Pennsylvania;  William Bose,  Esq., of Baltimore;  and  Nicholas
Biddle, Esq., of Philadelphia.
       23* 
266
SPEECH.
largely partaken of the spirit of the age, and has libe-
rally invested her means  in attempts to draw within
her limits a portion  of the  trade  of the vast country
which  lies beyond  her;  and  her  prosperity is most
vitally  connected with  the completion, and  successful
operation, of those great works.   The Baltimore and
Susquehanna Railroad Company have lately consum-
mated  a wrork  having an important bearing upon the
interests  of  the  State.   We this day witness the ter-
mination  of another of her  gigantic  efforts; and joy-
fully hail it—like the bow in the cloud which cheered
the hearts of the early inhabitants of  our world—as the
sure promise of all that is to follow.
  I shall  never forget  the first extended view I ever
had of the Internal Improvements which characterize
our age and country.  Four years ago I had occasion
to visit Pittsburg, and  passed along  the Pennsylvania
Canal.   I was astonished at  the magnitude of the
work.  Rivers opposed no insurmountable  barrier  to
the enterprise of man;  and mountains were  ascended,
or a passage effected through their bowels—an achieve-
ment more noble than that of the great Carthagenian
Captain when he crossed the Alps.   His object was to
devastate the beautiful and sunny plains of Italy; to
sack her  cities;  to deluge her fruitful fields with  rivers
of human blood.  But there the object was the  pro-
motion of the  welfare and happiness of man.   And,
as 1  glided along that  peaceful  Canal, and  surveyed
the scenery by which it is environed—the fruitful fields,
the precipitous  mountain-sides covered with the pride
of the  forest, the flowing river, and all the  splendours 
SPEECH.
267
of an evening sky—I was  most deeply impressed by
the view of the beauties of nature, in connexion with
the triumphs of art.
   This would not be the suitable  occasion, even if I
possessed the ability, to give a history of Internal Im-
provements,  as contained  in the works of this, and
other countries.   All who hear me  have a  general
knowledge of  that  subject, as  the works have been
projected,  and carried on, in  our  day.   That history
will be  written at some future period.  I shall  not
enter upon  a comparison of the prospects of trade in
our day, with the trade of former times.   I might de-
tain you with a description of the caravans which con-
veyed luxurious commodities  over Arabian deserts; of
the fairs which assembled multitudes for the purchase
of the products of  far distant climes; of Palmyra rising,
as if by enchantment, with Eastern splendour amidst
steril wastes, but  now without a tenant or a  lord; of
Bagdad invested  with  all the magnificence belonging
to  a mart  for the commerce of nations.  That day,
with all its glories, has long since  passed.  A troop of
camels might suffice to convey  silks and spices for the
consumption of the luxurious; but could not transport
the  coal and iron which lie buried  deep within  the
bosom of the earth.   The quest of other days was for
luxuries; with that, our age combines the useful.
   The doubling of the Cape of Good Hope by Vas-
quez de Gama, was one of the  great achievements of
its age, and  effected an enitire revolution  in the inter-
course of nations.  But  how much greater will be the
facilities for trade, when  the perils  of  a voyage around 
268
SPEECH.
the  Cape will be avoided, if  the connexion  of the
Arabian  Gulf with the  Mediterranean Sea ever pours
the wealth of Asia into the lap of the civilized world.
Who will deny that the discovery of a Northwestern
passage,  or  a communication across the  Isthmus  of
Darien, may connect the Atlantic with the Pacific; and,
avoiding the dangerous  track of Anson around Cape
Horn, give us ready access to the rich treasures of the
East? The experience of the past is our guide in fonn-
ing  anticipations of  the future.   Fifty years  ago,
philosophy,  in her wildest  visions, did  not not dream
of the accomplishment of what we witness in our day;
and, who will  limit wiiat  may  be performed  by the
mind of man, in the fifty years that  are to follow?
The genius  of  one man gave a new continent to the
Old  World; and, the genius of other  men may ac-
complish that which  will produce as  much surprise as
was  excited among the inhabitants of  Spain by the
return of Columbus, with the tidings of his great dis-
co veiy.
  It is not without reason we have assembled this day
to celebrate the completion  of this  Canal, and  to wit-
ness the  mingling of the waters of the  Susquehanna
with those of the Chesapeake.   This meeting of the
waters, although, like another, it may not be immor-
talized  by the genius of  a poet, will be  handed down
in perpetual remembrance by the benefits it will  con-
fer.  You cannot pass your  eyes over the map, without
being forcibly impressed  with the  importance  of this
work.  By this Canal the  trade of the Ohio will  be
poured into the  Chesapeake, and conveyed on  her 
SPEECH.
269
broad and beautiful bosom wherever it may be needed.
The immense coal and  iron treasures of the valley of
the Susquehanna will find  a ready transit to navigable
waters, and thus give  profit to the owner, and  comfort
to the  consumer.   Why are the deep  bowels of the
earth pregnant  with  treasures?  Why are the  inland
fields weighed  down with harvests* which the culti-
vators cannot  consume?  Has a  beneficent God made
any thing in vain?  Was it designed that those mines
should   be unexplored—those harvests  unconsumed?
The art of man here ministers to the beneficence of
his Creator, and conveys the rich products of the earth
to those wiio  require them.  We celebrate,  this day,
ihe triumphs  of the art of man;  not employed in de-
vising instruments of  destruction, but in bestowing the
comforts of  life.  It was said by an  immortal patriot
of Ireland, that he is a benefactor of  his country, who
  *The following Table, containing a condensed view of various
productions of the United States, is  collected from the  volume of
the enumeration of the inhabitants and statistics of the United States,
as obtained  from the returns of the Sixth Census—for 1840.  This
volume—which has been issued during the present year,  1842—can
be obtained by very few citizens, and possesses great value. Round
numbers—expressing millions, or fractions of a millioji—are  em-
ployed in the Table.  This method is  adopted for  condensation.
The term, corn, is used in the American sense.  In England, corn
includes all kinds of cereal grain: and, what we call corn, or Indian
corn, the  English designate by the term, maize.  It has been com-
puted that, in the United States,  four and a half bushels of corn are
consumed to one  of wheat.
  The estimates of the produce of the District of  Columbia are
omitted  in the Table: also other very small estimates.  The Sixth
Census contains—it is presumed—the enumeration of the produce
of the year 1839. 
270
SPEECH.
causes two blades of grass to grow where but one had
                      TABLE.
STATES.
Maine  .
New Hampshire
Massachusetts
Rhode Island
Connecticut
Vermont
New York  .
New Jersey
Pennsylvania
Delaware   .
Maryland   .
Virginia.   .
North Carolina
South Carolina
Georgia .
Alabama
Mississippi  .
Louisiana   .  .
Tennessee  .
Kentucky   .  .
Ohio.   .   .  .
Indiana .   .  .
Illinois  .   .  .
Missouri
Arkansas   .
Michigan   .
Florida Territory
Wiskonsin  do.
Iowa       do.
  3
o o

Total.....85  3771 123
  TTJ
  l

  s
  T(T
131
  3
  TTT
 3*

 2
 1
 If
164
Q 3
°T(T
1
 1 4
  1
  2
 n

n


 2 i
 8
34


20A
21
131
 6
15
m

28*
22-
17t3tt
 41
 9 3
 "1 TJ
n
 M

  l
  7
 u
 21
9{)_7_
~ul 0
 °T0
20f
   9

 3*
133
 JTTJ
 1*
 11
 If
   7
  TT)
   1
  TU
 7
 ?1
14f
 6
 5
 21

 2A
 l
  1
  7
 TTf

3
It't
6 ,V
1 
SPEECH.
271
before been  produced.  He is no less a  public bene-
                 TABLE—CONTINUED.
STATES.
Maine  .
New Hampshire
Massachusetts
Rhode  Island
Connecticut
Vermont
New York .
New Jersey
Pennsylvania
Delaware   .
Maryland  .
Virginia.
North  Carolina
South  Carolina
Georgia .
Alabama
Mississippi.
Louisiana  .
Tennessee  .
Kentucky  .   .
Ohio.   .   .   .
Indiana.   .
Illinois .   .
Missouri   .   .
Arkansas   .
Michigan   .
Florida Territory
Wiskonsin do.
Iowa      do.

     Total .   .
§ °
w a.
a. jjj'
3- o
Q —l
?. o
a. o
 TT5
 l
 2
 3
 ~5
  1
 T15
 2
 3"
 4

3jV
  3
 li)
xttx
  i_
 4 4
  1
 TTf
 2
 T
  1
 TTJ
  1
 4 ff
  1
 T5 7T
  1
 TTf

  1
 4T>
  1
 TS"2~
  1
 1 Tf
 1
?TJ
■5?
 l
TTTf
 n
52
62
164
117
194
152
28
10^
21
25
75
17
  4
   1
  TI
  1

30
54
 6
 2
 'TTJ
 9
 6

12



790.
216
120
If
64
If
155
H
11
1
10
3T'
 3
601
124
36
81 
272
SPEECH.
 factor who plans, and executes the means of convey-
 ing, at a reduced price, to the door of the citizen, the
 comforts he needs.  We cheerfully award that meed to
 those whose  intelligence, and perseverance  have pro-
jected and executed this important work.   We give all
 due acknowledgments to our neighbouring sister State
 for her kindness in allowing us to construct this  Canal,
 and believe that the advantages will be reciprocal; that
 she will be twice blessed—blessed in what she take, as
 well as in what she gives.
   It has  not  been  my design to  go into  an extended
 and minute detail to shew the importance of  this work.
 That duty  has been ably performed by  one who has
 preceded me.  Nor will I enter,  at  large, on a  con-
sideration of  the relation of  Internal Improvements to
the prosperity of our  country.  That relation is agri-
cultural,  commercial, and political.  Your own reflec-
tions will fill up the  outline,  without  aid  from me.
Our territory embraces almost every variety of soil and
climate:  and strength will be imparted to our  institu-
  The United States  produces four millions of bushels of barley—
a million and a quarter of pounds of hops. The value of the pro-
ducts of the dairy is thirty-four millions; of the orchard, seven and
a quarter millions; of  home-made, or family goods, twenty-nine
millions; of the produce  of market gardeners, two millions and six
hundred thousand dollars.  The quantity  of wood sold amounts to
five millions of cords.
  The live stock—horses and mules, four millions three hundred and
thirty-six thousand—neat cattle, fifteen millions—sheep, nineteen
millions, and three hundred thousand—swine,  twenty-six millions,
and three hundred thousand.  The value  of all kinds of poultry is
estimated at nine millions, three hundred and forty-five thousand
dollars. 
SPEECH.
273
tions, when internal communications shall give us a
home market for our various productions; and, thus,
make us less dependent  on other  countries  for what
we buy or sell.   The trade of the New York Canals
amounted, last  year, to seventy-three millions.  Who
can calculate the results that will arise from the general
extension  of such works?  The American statesman,
viewing our vast extent of territory, has been accus-
tomed to  anxious consideration  on the prospect of the
perpetuity of our institutions.   No people have ever
received the blessings that have been showered upon
us: and it is the character of our nature, that the very
extent of  our happiness makes  us look forward with
anxiety for its continuance.  The despotic govern-
ments of  Europe look with a jealous eye upon our in-
stitutions:  because they know if the serf  who is bound
to their soil, and is trampled in the dust by the iron
foot  of absolute  power,  shall  ever  feel the fires of
liberty,  kindled  by our  example, burn  within his
bosom, "his soul will walk abroad in her own majesty,
and  his body swell  beyond the  measure of his chains
that  burst  from  around  him."
   The Republics of former times did not  endure, be-
cause the people had  not sufficient intelligence  and
virtue to resist the encroachments of despotism.   But,
our ancestors brought the religion and the  philosophy
of England to  our shores; and the settlements they
planted—Minerva-like—started forth in all the maturity
of manhood.  Other empires have fallen by their own
weight; and the same event has been predicted as the
result of  our  wide extent of  countiy.  True,  our
       24 
274                  SPEECH.
territory reaches from the St. John to the  Sabine, and
from the Atlantic to the Pacific: and it might be sup-
posed that the bonds arising from a  community of in-
terests, may not be sufficiently strong to  hold us to-
gether, without  the concentrated power of despotism.
But  the far-seeing  statesman has looked forward to
Internal Improvements as a strong cord to unite us to-
gether in one happy family, for ages yet to come.
The genius of man has caused the shores of  Europe
to approach the shores of America: and the genius of
man, by means of internal communications, may  yet
make the remotest citizen of our country almost  our
neighbour.  Perhaps, another generation may see our
Internal Improvements  extend  beyond  the  Rocky
Mountains to the Pacific  Ocean,  and thus cover our
country with blessings, and with glory.
  Allow me, in conclusion, to offer as a sentiment,
   The Valley of the Susquehanna:  Nature designed
its products, like  its waters, to flow into the  Chesa-
peake.   We celebrate the accomplishment of  the pur-
poses of Nature, by the triumphs of Art. 
SPEECH,*
In behalf of the Manual Labour School for  Indigent
                Boys, November 30th, 1840.
Mr. President:
       Your kind partiality, with that of other benevo-
lent gentlemen engaged  in  this  noble charity,  has
selected  me as an advocate of  the  orphan and  the
indigent.   Conscious  of my inability to  do justice to
the subject, I respectfully  ask this  audience  not to
allow the  feebleness of my advocacy to prejudice my
cause.
   On the 16th of December, 1839, a number of gentle-
men met, and appointed a Committee to report on this
subject.   The Committee reported to a public meeting
on the 17th of March, 1840, "That  it  is expedient to
establish, in the neighbourhood of Baltimore, a Manual
Labour  School for  Indigent Boys."   Since  then, the
public mind has been intensely excited by the political
questions which have agitated this  countiy from  the
St. John  to  the  Sabine;  and, it  was  not  deemed
  •This Speech was delivered, by request of the Board of Directors,
in the Sharp street Baptist Church, Baltimore.  It was preceded by
the following Resolution:
  Resolved, That the effort, now being made, to establish, in the
vicinity of Baltimore, a Manual Labour School  for Indigent Boys,
has, in an eminent degree, claims on the consideration and co-opera-
tion of the Christian, the philanthropist, and the patriot. 
276
SPEECH.
expendient to  hazard the  success  of  the plan, by
calling for public aid during the existence of those all-
absorbing political  discussions.   But  now,  Sir,  the
storm has ceased to agitate the bosom of  the political
and social ocean, which has subsided into  its wonted
repose;  and  this  highly  respectable  assemblage of
citizens of Baltimore  has  convened, this  evening, for
the purpose of hearing the claims of this Institution
enforced; and then, if it receive  their approbation, to
contribute for its establishment.
  The design of the Board of Directors is, to purchase
a farm in the vicinity of the  city, where they will be
able to accommodate indigent boys, who are exposed to
all the evils arising from want of culture, and from
vicious  associations; and,  by combining mental culti-
vation with manual labour, cause them to contribute to
their own support;  while, at the  same time, they  will
become qualified  to obtain future subsistence.  The
charities of the Institution will first be extended to indi-
gent orphans; and then, as far as its means will enable it,
to other destitute  boys, whose parents cannot, or  will
not, extend to them the  protection and   care which
belong to the relation.  The principal expense to the
community will exist in the  organization of the Insti-
tution, and during the first year.   After that period, the
proceeds of the labour of  the beneficiaries will nearly,
if not altogether, support the establishment.
   This charity, in behalf  of which  an  appeal is  now
made to this audience, is  not an  experiment, the  suc-
cess of which  is to be determined  by results.   The
experiment has already been made with distinguished 
SPEECH.
277
success.  In  1835, a school was opened near Boston,
on a farm of one hundred and twenty acres.   In 1838,
there were one hundred and  five pupils in the esta-
blishment, between the  ages of eight and eighteen: a
number of whom, at proper ages, were bound  out  to
farmers and mechanics, with highly satisfactory results.
The labour necessary for the Institution was performed
by the scholars, with the assistance of master-workmen.
In one year, the produce of the farm amounted  to four
thousand and five hundred dollars; fifteen hundred  of
which were the product of sales; leaving three thou-
sand to be consumed by the Institution.   Thus, Mr.
President,  it will be  perceived that the question pre-
sented  to this community  is, Shall indigent boys  be
allowed to acquire habits of vice, and become inmates
of houses  for  juvenile  delinquents, of jails,  and  of
penitentiaries—ruined in morals, and lost to society:  or,
shall the means  be afforded to train them up in habits
of industry and virtue, and, thus, make them useful and
honourable members of the great human family?   Sir,
the amount of  money requisite to secure these blessings,
when compared  with the results, is not to be estimated
 as the small dust in the balance.
   Mr. President, this Institution is designed for  preven-
 tion—not for punishment.  And I  ask the attention of
 the  audience to this view  of the subject.  Sir, we  all
 know the power of temptation, even with those of
 mature years:  that it often requires all  the strength
 derived from  the associations of early education and
 subsequent reflection,  to  enable  us to resist the head-
 long torrent of impetuous passion.   Who has  not had
        24* 
278                 SPEECH.
occasion to use  that petition  indited  by the  Great
Saviour  of men,  "Lead us  not  into temptation"?
What, then, are we to expect will  be the fate of the
poor  boy, cut off from  the humanizing influence of
all the social relations of life, and left to the action of
evil  associations on the unbridled  promptings of his
corrupt nature?  He is  thus prematurely taught to be
a violator of the law.   We all  know the effects of
habit;  and  admit the truth of the saying of the philoso-
pher, No one ever became  most  base in an  hour.
Small offences blunt the sensibilities,  and lead to gross
acts; and the  experience of the  world has  confirmed
the remark, that the head of  an idle boy is the prolific
shop of unnumbered evils.   Is not  society under obli-
gations to assume the relation of parent to the helpless
orphan?  If the poor orphan boy stood before you to-
night,  he  might address you in the  beautiful  and
pathetic  lamentation  of  Job,  Have   pity upon  me;
have pity upon me, O ye my friends; for the  hand of
the Lord hath touched me.
  When man is without moral and intellectual culture,
the wild passions of his  nature are left to their unre-
strained influence on his character.  In what respect is
he then superior to the  savage  animals that roam the
forest in quest of prey?   Guided  by impulse  and not
by reason, the law of self-preservation is the only law
to whose influence he bows; and, were it not for the
superior  civilization by   which he  is surrounded  and
restrained he would be as incontrollable as the untamed
wanderer of the woods, who has no knowledge of Deity
except that he,
       "Sees God in clouds, or hears him in  the wind." 
SPEECH.
279
Intellect and morals would be sunk in sense;  and the
miserable outcast would soon become a victim to the
laws he had outraged, but of the  existence of which
he was not informed.   Is that benevolence?  Is that
justice?   The welfare of society may require the sacri-
fice to the  sternness of her statutes; but, true benevo-
lence will endeavour to save the wretch from the com-
mission of the crime.
  An immortal poet, in the most finished and admired
composition in the English language, indulges in reflec-
tions  on  the humble  occupants  of  the receptacles
of the dead;  and  supposes  that  village  Hampdens,
mute inglorious Miltons, and guiltless  Cromwells, may
repose there in the last, long sleep; but adds that "chill
penury" caused them to die, unhonoured and unknown.
Sir, we may apply the same  reflections to poor youth
wandering in our  streets.    With proper cultivation,
they  might illustrate  our country by attainments in
Science and the Arts,  command the admiration of
senates by their eloquence,  and  lead our armies to
victory in  defence  of our liberties.  But, instead of
affording them the opportunity to become thus honour-
able and useful, you,  by neglect, allow them to occupy
a prominent place in the proceedings of your Criminal
Courts, and to fill the records with the details of their
crimes.  And what, Mr. President, is the effect  pro-
duced on the  poor  boy who is confined  in our jail or
penitentiary, as a punishment  for violations of law?
Without any  to take care of him but that God who
"tempers the wind  to the shorn lamb," he may have
committed an offence against a law, of whose penalty 
2S0                  SPEECH.
or existence he was uninformed; and, he is confined in
the abode of those who have grown grey in crime—
contact with whom is leprosy to his soul.  Better, Sir,
let him lie down in the grave by the side of his dead
father and mother, than place him  amidst associations
such as these.   Can  he escape from that prison-house
widiout defilement, deep and damning?  And even if
he should, where can  he go when the  chains of his
captivity are sundered?  Will the virtuous receive him
to their bosoms and their homes?   Let him go where
he will, a mark, as indelible as that of Cain,is upon his
person;  and he must  die with a broken heart, or plunge
into deeper crime.  The tree that has been scathed by
the lightning of  heaven, is not a more conspicuous
object  for the gaze of man.   It would  be almost a
blessing if the old fable were true, and that, in this case,
all the footsteps pointed to the cave, but none indicated
a return.  Sir, is it not charity to endeavour to rescue
the destitute orphan from misery such as this?
   Mr. President, moral education, to be effective, must
be continuous:  not confined to  a day in a  week, but
must extend  through  months and years.   This is a
great recommendation  to  the Manual Labour  School
system.  I have not  time, Sir, to develope this subject;
but, if you will contrast the Sabbath in such a school,
with the  Sabbath of the indigent  boy in your streets,
you  will readily appreciate  the full force of the argu-
ment.   Sir, the man who fails to reform others, or to
prevent the commission of crime, when reform or pre-
vention are in his power,  is responsible for the future
acts.   If  I see a man  about to throw himself from a 
SPEECH.
281
precipice, when consequent destruction would be ine-
vitable, and possess, without exercising,  the power of
prevention,  am I  not a murderer?   If such conduct
towards my fellow-being be crime, when  its effects are
confined to  the welfare of his  person, by what  name
should it be called when it extends to the destiny of
his spirit?   Society is a system of mutual  obligations—
mutual dependencies.  Whether you strike the tenth or
the ten-thousandth link of this great chain, its integrity
is alike severed.  Man has no right to confine himself,
like a shell-fish, within the limits of his own interests.
Wherever you find a destitute fellow-being in need of
your charities, and you are able  to relieve him, Sir, he
is your brother.  That divine system  which the Great
Friend of man brought  down from heaven,  makes
good Samaritans of all who feel its saving power.
  Mr.  President, the  State has many benevolent institu-
tions which she sustains:  but,  sometimes, charitable
enterprise, single or associated, can  effect  more  in the
cause  of beneficence, than  State supervision.   Such
I  conceive to  be pre-eminently  the case with  the
Manual Labour School  system.  Baltimore is  rathei
behind other large cities, in her charitable institutions;
and, Sir, they  are  the noblest monuments they  could
erect for the perpetuation of their fame.  Let us, then,
add  to our noble monuments—erected  to individual
gloiy—the far nobler monuments for the melioration of
the condition of man.  The morbid appetite for ruth-
less war has been succeeded by the peaceful pursuits of
enterprise and  beneficence.   Far better,  Sir, to be the
followers of Him who went about doing good, than of 
282                  SPEECH.
that bloody spirit of darker days which seeks whom it
may devour.
  The limits assigned to  me  this evening, Mr. Presi-
dent, do not allow a further expansion of this interest-
ing subject.   But, I  cannot  refrain from asking those
who occupy the seats before me, What made you to
differ from those unfortunates,  whose  claims I this
evening advocate?  Perhaps your mothers were spared
to your early infancy, and your fathers to your maturer
days.   Lessons of virtue were instilled into your young
minds while standing by your mother's knee; and early
habits of  industry acquired from the example of a
father.   Shew, then, your gratitude for such inestima-
ble blessings by making provision for the poor orphan.
Look into your own  benevolent  hearts, and you will
there find  arguments, more convincing than any  I can
offer, in behalf of those whose cause I advocate.
  The Resolution I  have the honour to submit  for
your adoption declares, that the Manual Labour School
has claims on the Christian, the philanthropist, and the
patriot.  I will not invade the distinctive duties of those
who minister in  this consecrated  temple, by  dwelling
on the relation between early instruction and the future
condition  of man.  The  philanthropist  may not be
called to imitate the examples of Howard and  Fry,
and explore the dark depths of the damp dungeon in
order to meliorate the condition of the captive; but, we
fulfil our  destiny by labouring,  in our sphere,  to in-
crease the  happiness of our race.  The patriot who
wishes to  perpetuate to future ages our example of a
free government, and this  asylum for  the oppressed of 
SPEECH
283
every land, will endeavour to educate the poor*—a class
so powerful for  evil,  or for good.   The  intelligence of
the  early  settlers on  our shores  gave impulse to  the
best model of civil government the world  ever saw—
a- model which  the ignorant can never imitate, while
trodden  down  by the iron foot of oppression.   But
ignorance leads to vice; and vice will place her shoul-

  *Fourteen thousand dollars have been collected for this Manual
Labour School; nearly one-half of which was subscribed on  this
occasion.  A valuable farm of one hundred and forty acres, six miles
from Baltimore, has been purchased and improved, and suitable
buildings erected.  The Institution now contains forty boys; and a
hundred  pressing applications, beyond its ability to accommodate,
have been received.  The success of the Institution has surpassed
the expectations of its benevolent projectors; and  the numerous
applications for admission which their restricted means compel them
reluctantly to reject, give  to it claims on  further aid from a charitable
public.
  In connexion with this  subject, I have prepared—with no  incon-
siderable labour—the following Scale  of  Education  in  the
United States, shewing the number of white persons over twenty
years of age, in each State and Territory, who cannot read and write.
It has been  collected  from the volume of the  Sixth  Census—for
1840—recently issued.  All fractions  lower than one-fourth  are
omitted.  In preparing this  Scale, I have deducted from the  total
population, all the coloured  population, whether free or slave.  The
Scales of this kind which have been published in the daily papers,
are very inaccurate.  For example; they give Vermont the propor-
 tion of one to every four hundred and seventy-three:  South Carolina
one to every seventeen: Maine one to every  one hundred and eight:
Delaware one to  every eighteen:  Tennessee one to every eleven:
N. Hampshire one to every three hundred and ten, &c.  By comparing
these statements with the  Scale below, the importance of these errors
will be manifest. It is obvious that these published Scales were calcu-
lated on  the same principle on which I  have compiled the one here
inserted—the exclusion of the coloured  population—because  other
States  (free as well as slave-holding;) correspond in the calculations. 
284
SPEECH.
ders against the pillars of this  noble temple of liberty;
and, then, the time honoured fabric, built by the toil of
patriots, and consecrated by the blood of martyrs, will
crumble in ruin
Any other mode of comparison would do great injustice to the slave-
holding States.
                        SCALE.

                              Mississippi
                              Florida
                              Indiana
                              Wiskonsin
                              Illinois
                              Missouri
                              Tennessee
                              Kentucky
                              Alabama
                              Virginia
                              S. Carolina
                              Delaware
                              Georgia
                              Arkansas
                              N. Carolina
Connecticut	I to every 574
N. Hampshire	L « 3014
Maine	I « 185$
Massachusetts 1	I " 164
Vermont ]	I « 128|
Michigan	97
Rhode Island ]	I " 65$
New Jersey ]	" 55
New York	L " 53£
Pennsylvania	50
Ohio J	I " 43
Iowa	38i
Louisiana	I « 32|
Dis. Columbia	L " 29
Maryland ]	I « 27
every 21£ 21i 18
18
17
17
16
14| 14£
" 12* » 12J 12
12
10* 8*
 
SPEECH,
 Delivered, by request, in Baltimore, September 21st, 1840.
Fellow-Citizens:
       I  appear before you this evening, in  compli-
ance with an invitation from your Committee.   In the
discussion of the subject—the wages of labour—which
I shall present to you, I shall not enter into elaborate
arguments,  nor weary  you by tabular statements.
Such a mode of discussion would  not be appropriate
to the present occasion.  I shall confine myself to such
statements and arguments  as will  be readily appre-
ciated by every one present; and which you can easily
expand when sitting around your own fire-sides, in the
bosom of your own families. And, as the subject on
which  I  design to  address you  has a most important
bearing on your personal  and domestic happiness, such
will be the most appropriate time and place to give it
your most serious consideration.
  Labour has been  defined to  be the creative power
of man; and, there are few subjects that more vitally
affect the interests of  the  labouring men of every com-
munity,  than the price they  receive for their toil.
Their  capital consists in the strength of  their sinewy
arms; and, no portion of the population of a countiy is
more entitled to  respect, than   that which complies
       25 
286                  SPEECH.
with the primeval command, In the sweat of thy face
shalt  thou eat bread.   They are the bone  and sinew
of the land:  what Goldsmith appropriately calls, "their
country's pride."   Such men constitute eight-tenths of
the voters of the United States, and have an indisputable
claim on  the protection and fostering  care  of  the
Government.  I employ the strong language of Mr.
Webster when I  say, The  labourer of the United
States, is the United States.
  The Abbe De Lamennais has justly remarked that,
"Labour is the action of  humanity  accomplishing the
work  which  the Creator has given it in charge."   It is
thus that man fulfils his destiny.  And, if it be correct
to say,
       "Act well your part; there all the honour lies,"

the man  who labours, day  after  day, for his support,
has higher claims to the respect of the community than
he has, who lives  on  the  product of the  toil of his
fathers; without occupation, without resource, useless
to his country, and a burden to himself.   In European
countries,  the ancient forms of society recognize arti-
ficial distinctions among men—distinctions arising from
birth.  But, in our Republican country, every man has
the privilege of being the architect  of his own fortune
and position; and,  any condition of life is honourable
which enables a man to be independent by the exertion
of honest efforts.   Whenever a foreign foe threatens a
descent upon our soil, the labouring-man shoulders his
musket and  girds  on his  sword;  and, his glittering
bayonet and flashing blade  are interposed between the 
                      SPEECH.                  287
invader, and the desecration of our temples  and our  *
homes.
   The doctrine of this Administration is, that the Go-
vernment has nothing to do with providing a  currency
for the People.   It is justly inferrible from  this that
the Administration doctrine  is, that the Government
will take care of itself, and the People must take care
of themselves.   But, I will not believe that the People
will ever  sanction this  monstrous doctrine.   What
makes the Government? The People.  For whose in-
terests was it established? For the interests of the
People themselves.   In  comparison with  these in-
terests, the men who fill the high places of honour and
profit are  insignificant—the small dust of the balance.
And,  whenever they stand in the way of public pros-
perity, they deserve to be crushed by  the wheels of a
car, more  ponderous than  that which breaks the bones
of the miserable  devotee  amidst Asiatic superstitions.
The Administration may be regardless of the  wages
the poor man receives for his  labour—on which wages
his wife and children depend for bread.   The United
States'  officers—from  the  President  downwards—re-
ceive  their pay in hard  money; on which, if they
choose, they can obtain a  premium, and then buy the
produce of the farmer,  and the labour of the working-
man, at reduced prices, and with  depreciated money.
This works gain to the office-holders, and loss to the
People.
   The  French Revolutionists said  it was nothing to
sacrifice a million  of  lives in the establishment of a
principle.   So, the Administration seems to think it no 
288
SPEECH.
harm to sacrifice the prosperity of the People in the
trial  of experiments.  The  dying  eagle  looks  with
poignant feelings on the arroAV  winged with  his own
feathers, which has pierced his  body; and, such must
be the feelings of the  People when their  interests are
sacrificed by those  whom they have placed in power.
This is not the first time that enormities have been per-
petrated in the sacred name of Liberty.  As an answer
to the appeal which has been made to the gratitude due
from the  People to this Administration, I  reply in the
eloquent language of Colonel Barre, when he answered
Charles Townshend, who, in the conclusion of a speech
delivered in the British Parliament,  said, "And now
these Americans—children planted  by our care,  nou-
rished by our indulgence, protected by our arms—will
they grudge their mite to relieve us?" To this Colonel
Barre replied,  "They planted by your care? Your op-
pressions drove them to America.  They nourished by
your indulgence? They grew by your neglect of them.
They protected by  your arms? They have nobly taken
up arms in  your defence: for the defence of a countiy
whose frontier was  drenched in blood, while its interior
yielded all its little  savings for your emolument."
  The labourers of this country—including, in that
designation, all of every age and sex, who, in some
form, belong to the industrious and working  classes—
amount to sixteen  millions out  of  seventeen  millions
of population; and, hence, it has been said that, "The
labourer  of the United States  is the United  States."
They  are far more respectable than the  labourers of
Europe: nine-tenths of whom have no interest in the 
SPEECH.
289
productions of their owrn toil; can never elevate them-
selves, but are often bought and sold with the soil they
cultivate.   Our  labouring men take an active part in
the politics of the  country; and, when  they possess
ability and virtue, the highest stations may become ob-
jects of their ambition.  No man in public life more
distinctly  represents die political views of  the party
now in power, than one of the Senators from Ohio.   I
will now quote liis opinion on the subject of the price
of produce and  labour.  It deserves the consideration
of the farmer, the  labourer, the mechanic, and  the
manufacturer.  He says, "The price  of labour is en-
tirely too high.  The labourer in this countiy can af-
ford to work for eleven pence a day; and, the hard-
money system will  bring  down wages to  that sum.
Wheat will also  come  down to sixteen cents a bushel,
and eveiy thing  else in proportion.  This is the best
tariff you can have; and the only one that can enable
our manufacturers to compete  with those of England.
The Sub-Treasury will effect both objects: it will put
clown the banks, and bring wages, and every thing else
down."   Dean Swift was a better political  economist
than  the  Ohio  Senator.   He says, the luxuries  and
necessaries of life  were cheaper in  Ireland than in
England; and adds, that this is always the case in the
poorest countries, because there is no money to pay for
them.   It was inadvertently stated, by the  opposition
papers, that this Senator had given utterance to these
sentiments dining  the delivery of a speech  in the
Senate of the United States: which statement he pro-
nounced to be "false and a base forgery;" and offered
       25* 
 290                 SPEECH.
 a  reward of one thousand dollars to any one who
 would produce an  authenticated copy of the  speech.
 The opinions were  expressed in conversation, at Steu-
 benville, Ohio—as has been incontrovertably proved—
 and not on the floor of the Senate.
   A member of the Administration party is reported
 to have used the  following language:  "It is true, Sir,
 that a  greater portion of the population of France are
 deprived of  the use of animal  food: but, does it fol-
 low that, as  a whole, they are  the worse  off? No Sir;
 so far from it, I have the authority of an English states-
 man, who speaks from  observation and  a critical  ex-
 amination of the  subject, for saying, that  the reverse is
 the case."   The member who expressed such opinions
 —supported by the authority of an English statesman—
 as to what was requisite for the necessities and comforts
 of the labouring-man, was enabled, by his per diem,
 to fare sumptuously eveiy day.   We  will  attach  due
 consideration to such opinions, when advanced by him-
 self and his political  associates, after they shall have tried
 the experiment of living without meat, and shall have
 consented to reduce their pay  to the specie standard.
 Would it be unjust to infer,  that  they  had  learned
 their philosophy  from the history of  "The  Parish
 Boy's Progress;"  and that they agree, with the parish
 beadle, in considering "meat" as the cause of all com-
 plaints and insubordination?
   It would appear, from the expression of such opinions
 by prominent men of the party, that the  object of this
 Administration is  to reduce the currency,  prices, and
wages of this country, to European standards.   Let us 
                     SPEECH.                  291
examine, for a moment, into the prices of labour in a
few  European countries.   In England,  the poor la-
bourer receives from two dollars and a half to four dol-
lars  a  week.  In times  of distress  he  receives but
two  dollars.  In both cases, he supplies his own board
and  lodging.  In France, the price of labour averages
sixteen cents a day.  In  Corsica,  the male labourer
gets  twenty-four cents a day, and  the female  eleven
cents.   In Prussia, the male working-man  gets from
eight to thirteen cents  a day:  the female about half.
In Holland and Belgium, the  farm-labourer receives
from twenty-two to  twenty-eight dollars per annum:
the female half.   In Austria, the field-labourer  is  paid
twenty-two cents a day, deducting  one-half for board
and  lodging.  In Russia, no  wages are paid to la-
bourers; and the serf is bought and sold with the soil.
In India, the people conform to the no-meat theory,
and  live on rice.   Such are the standards to which the
Administration wishes to reduce the wages of working-
men in this country.  Are they prepared for such re-
sults?
  A  Senator  of  the United States remarked,  a few
months since, as follows: "If a labourer receive one
dollar as his day's wages, and has, at the same time, to
pay  one dollar  for  a bushel of grain, and for other
necessaries in proportion, he will then have  no  higher
wages  than when he receives but fifty  cents  a  day,
and,  at the same time, pays but fifty cents for grain;
and  for other necessaries in proportion."   At the first
view, there appears to be nothing objectionable  in this
position.  But let us examine its bearing on the com- 
292                 SPEECH.
forts and interests of the labouring-man.   The position
is maintainable, in a restricted sense, in  its application
to home products;  but does not apply to the articles of
importation.  Moreover, it does not even  apply,  in
every view, to home productions; because, while agri-
cultural products are low in masses, the markets which
furnish,  in small quantities,  the daily  supply for our
families, are high.   Our importations considerably ex-
ceed one hundred  millions annually: and, as regards
all such articles, low wages affect the comforts  of the
labouring-man; because, die price of these articles re-
mains  unchanged, while his  wages are  to be reduced
one-half.   Is it not desirable that the working-man
shall be  able to purchase tea, coffee, and other luxu-
ries, for his family? But, let us look at the bearing of
such doctrines on  the army  of office-holders.   While
the wages of the labouring-man are reduced one-half,
the salaries  of  the  public officers are fixed; and they
receive full pay in  sound currency, on which they can
obtain  a premium, while those who pay their salaries
suffer  all  the  inconvenience.   Is that a Democratic
doctrine?
  That country is most prosperous  where  wages are
highest.  No other proof of this position is necessary,
than to compare the condition of the labouring men of
our country, a few years since, with the peasantry of
France, who wear wooden shoes, dress  in  plain cot-
tons, and only occasionally have meat.   There is no
country upon earth where the working-man is as com-
fortable as he was  in the United States, before the ex-
periments of the  present Administration.  England 
                     SPEECH.                 293
gives higher wages than other countries in Europe; and,
the condition of the labouring-man there, approaches
nearest to his condition with us.   In China, and other
portions of Asia, wages are very low, and the working
population live on rice.
   Low wages present an insurmountable barrier to the
accumulation of  property  by working men.  Under
such circumstances they cannot do more than provide
daily  support for themselves and families.   What is
to become of them when all the decrepitudes of ad-
vancing life disqualify  them for their  former  vigorous
efforts? Every man wishes to provide a home, where
his wife, and children, and friends,  may assemble
around his own fire-side.  Society does not present a
picture more  beautiful than that in which the neat and
industrious inmates are thus assembled; and, generally,
more happiness is found there than in splendid man-
sions.  Our countiy  could furnish many such scenes
as are presented  in  the "Cotter's Saturday  Night."
We want an equal bard to confer on them a  like im-
mortality.  Have such  citizens no claim on  the pro-
tection of the Government?  The labouring-man who
is in debt, will suffer from the continuance of affairs in
their present tendencies.   In consequence of the ex-
pectation  of  better days, indulgence is extended  from
the creditor to the debtor.  When that expectation  no
longer exists, collections of dues will be made in con-
formity with legal provisions.   We  will suppose the
labouring-man to have leased ground, and built a house,
when wages were high.   With the continuance of
health, in such times, he could easily have made the 
294                  SPEECH.
property his own, in fee  simple.  But reduce wages
one-half, and  he has, essentially, to pay  twice  the
amount of  rent, and the value  of  the property is
doubled to  the owner.   Is this the policy  of a truly
Democratic Administration?  Its effect is to make the
rich, richer; and  the poor, poorer.  The results I have
depicted  have, as yet, been  only partially felt.  But
they are in progress; and, with  the continuance of pre-
sent  measures, cannot be averted.   Let the People,
before it is too late, take  charge of their own interests,
and apply the  proper correctives.
  If the People be not  true to themselves, to whom
can they look for relief?  When the oppressed children
of Israel cried to Pharoah on account of their burdens,
he taunted  them, and refused  their  petition.   They
appealed to another tribunal, and the oppressor was
overthrown.   This  Administration  repels  the com-
plaints of the People, by telling them they are not to
expect relief from those  they  have placed  in power.
If the heavens become brass above our heads, and the
earth iron  under our feet:  if  the ground refuse to
reward the  labour of the  husbandman, and our cattle
die on a thousand hills, we submit, without a murmur, to
the will of Him whose right it is to reign.  But, we deny
that  the People have  no claim on civil Governments.
Why  did  our  forefathers  separate   from England?
Because, when  they were suffering  under oppression,
England refused to listen, or  to relieve.  She  taxed
her subjects, at the same  time  denying them the right
of representation; and  quartered  her  soldiers  upon
them, in order to compel submission to her oppressive 
                     SPEECH.                 295
laws.   And are we to submit to oppression, after having
tasted the blessings of liberty?   The  proper corrective
is in the peaceful  remedy supplied by the balJot-box,
not in the sword.
  Why should our  adopted citizens  support this Ad-
ministration?   Why did you  leave the home of your
fathers, to  seek  a  dwelling-place  in a New  World?
Because you  were trampled in  the dust by despotism.
And you came to  these shores that you might enjoy
the blessings of plenty and of liberty; and that, as the
generous reward  of labour, you might become owners
in the soil   What will you  have gained by having
fled from one despotism, to be oppressed by another?  It
is your interest  to aid in preserving the purity of our
institutions, not  only on account of yourselves and
your children; but, also in behalf of your countrymen,
who, in future days, may wish  to find  a refuge  from
the iron bondage  of  the Old World.  Two  hundred
years ago, the Genius of Liberty rested on the rock of
Plymouth—a second Ararat amidst the universal deluge
of  despotism.   She  has hovered  over our  soil, and
extended her benefactions like the  dews of heaven.
A rich harvest of blessings has followed; and here man
appreciates  the  dignity of  his  nature.  He walks
abroad in his own  majesty; and, not fearing the frown
of  any tyrant, he bows down in humble adoration, and
worships the  God of Nations.   Where  else can liberty
find a resting-place?  Africa  has  been covered with
thick  darkness  for  six  thousand  years;  and  never,
except for a period on her Northern shores, has civiliza-
tion been found  among her sable children.  Ignorance 
296
SPEECH.
and superstition destroy the energies of man  on  the
plains of Asia.  Europe has been defiled with the blood
of Poland; and  the spirit of Kosciusko demands  re-
venge on the oppressors of the free.  The Isles of  the
Sea have  not received the light of civilization and of
Christianity; and, where that light does not shine, liberty
cannot dwell.   Here, then, is her last resting-place; and
the oppressed of every land, whose souls pant for freedom,
may turn their longing eyes to our shores, and exclaim,
"Wherever liberty dwells, there is  my  country."   If
she be exiled from our  land, she must  return  to that
world from which she came. 
JOHN WILKES.*
  The contest between Mr.  Wilkes and the English
Government, is one  of the most remarkable cases in
the political and judicial histoiy of England.  Not-
withstanding the  striking analogy between that case,
and a  recent  occurrence  in  this countiy, I have no
knowledge that it has, during the late political contest,
been made the  subject of comment,  or allusion by
public  speakers, or political writers.
  In 1762, a weekly political paper, called the Briton,
was established  for  the defence of the measures of
Lord Bute, and was conducted by Dr.  Smollett.  Mr.
Wilkes, highly incensed at the abuse so bitterly lavished
by this  paper on his political friends, established another
weekly paper for their  defence, and styled it the North
Briton.   The  forty-fifth number of this paper,  con-
taining remarks on a speech of the King in relation to
the foreign policy of the Government, came under the
notice of the law-officers of the Crown; and was  pro-
nounced by them to  be  an  infamous  and seditious
libel, having a tendency  to  alienate the affections of
the people from the King, and to excite insurrection.
A  general warrant—that vile  instrument of oppres-
  *This article was written during the Autumn of 1840.
       26 
298
JOHN WILKES.
 sion, and so destructive of the liberty of the people—
 was issued, and returns made on it; and, notwith-
 standing  each  return made  it functum officio, it  was
 issued four times.   This general warrant  was served
 on Mr. Wilkes  on the street; but, not finding his name
 in the instrument, he  told the  officer if he used  vio-
 lence to him there, he would kill him on the spot, as
 the warrant was illegal, and  a violation of the rights of
 an Englishman.  The officer agreed to go to the house
 of Mr. Wilkes, who, constrained  by force,  was taken
 thence to  the  office  of the Secretary of  State.   In
 order to  evade the  writ of habeas corpus which  had
 been issued, his custody was  changed four times in
 twelve hours;  and  he was  finally committed to  the
 Tower.  His house was then searched  by the officers:
 closets, bureaus, and drawers were  broken open: all
 his papers—his will and private  pocket-book  among
 them—were  collected, and  taken to the  office of the
 Secretary.  Two noblemen  offered to become his  bail
 in one hundred thousand pounds  each; but, their  pro-
 posal was not noticed.  Mr.  Wilkes refused his consent
 to the offer to give  bail, unless his health  failed; as he
 was determined to  test what protection British  law
 would afford to  a freeman.
  He was brought, by a writ of habeas corpus, before
the  Court of  Common  Pleas—Lord Chief-Justice
Pratt presiding  at this  remarkable trial, which was to
decide whether English  liberty was a reality, or  a
shadow.   He was discharged by the  unanimous deci-
sion of the Court.   Regarded by the  people  as  the
champion of English liberty, he was carried in triumph 
JOHN WILKES.
299
and  with acclamation by  a vast multitude, and his
liberation was celebrated by bonfires and illuminations.
  Actions at law were commenced against the officers
who had been instruments  in the proceeding, and
heavy fines were imposed by the juries.  Lord North
confessed, during a debate in Parliament, that this case
cost the Government more than one hundred thousand
pounds.   Lord Halifax, the Secretaiy of State, evaded
a decision on his case until Mr. Wilkes was outlawed;
and  then advanced the  plea, that, as an outlaw, he
could not hold any action.   After the outlawry was
reversed, the action was revived; and a verdict  of four
thousand pounds damages was rendered  against Lord
Halifax.
  The results of this case, by the  decision of  a High
Court  of England,  were, 1st.  That  there  were  but
three cases which could possibly affect the privilege of
a member of Parliament; viz. treason, felony, and a
breach of the peace: and that, although a libel, in the
sense of the law, was a high misdemeanour, it did not
come within  any one of these three cases.   2d. That
the seizure of  papers, except in cases  of high treason,
was  illegal.   3d. That the warrant was illegal.   When
it is  considered how important  these decisions were to
the private relations, and personal liberty of every man
in the  kingdom,  it is not strange that Mr.  Wilkes
became  the idol of  the people; that  he was elected
Sheriff and Lord Mayor of London; and was repeatedly
returned to Parliament, notwithstanding his  expulsion
from that body. He thus speaks of himself: "Whilst
I live, I shall enjoy the satisfaction of thinking that  I 
 300               JOHN WILKES.
 have not  lived in vain:  that my name will pass with
 honour to posterity for the part I have acted, and for
 my unwearied endeavours to protect  and secure the
 persons, houses, and papers of my fellow-subjects, from
 arbitrary  visits and seizures."  When the  results  of
 this remarkable case  are  considered, the  propriety  of
 the description of it given by Mr. Burke—as a tragi-
 comedy acted by the  officers of the  Crown, at  the
 expense of the Constitution—will be appreciated.
   These  reminiscences of the political  and  judicial
 history of England have been caused  by a recent case
 of the seizure of private papers.  Such  acts were not
 sanctioned by British  law, eighty  years ago, in  the
 monarchical government of England.  The name  of
 Jeffries remains on the page of British history as  a
 reproach to human nature, because he defiled the pure
 ermine  of justice, that he might gratify the desires of
 a  tyrannical  master.  While Justice  suspends her
 scales her eyes  are blinded, that she  may be able to
 make her decisions without partiality.  What says the
 Bill of Rights of the  State in  which this  seizure was
 made?  "The right of the People to be secure in their
 persons, houses, papers, and effects against unreasonable
 searches and seizures, ought not to be violated; and no
 warrant can issue but  upon probable cause, supported
 by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the
place to be searched, and  the  persons or things to be
seized."—I Rev. Stat. 93.   The principles upon which
 this article of the Revised Statutes is based, have long
 been established in England;  and are recognised by
the Constitutions  of  all the States  of  the Union. 
JOHN WILKES.
301
What right had the heads of the civil and municipal
law of the city of  New York to seize, without judicial
process,  the  private  papers  of a citizen?  Is not  a
man's  house his castle?  Did  not the individual  to
whose  keeping the  papers were  entrusted, represent
the owner?  Were not these officers bound by the Bill
of Rights?  Are the authorized interpreters of the law,
above all law?   Justice must die, if  her own  dispen-
sers be permitted to give her the fatal stab.  Her tem-
ples must perish, if her robes be worn by those whose
putrescence generates the flames by which those tem-
ples will be consumed.
   The time has arrived for a  dispassionate examina-
tion of the acts of the twelve past years.  The excite-
ment of  party strife has  ceased: the voice of constitu-
tional liberty will again be heard.  Now is the time to
realize the beautiful  sentiment of Milton, Peace has
her victories, no less renowned  than War.
26* 
 
WILLIAM LENHAR.T.*
   The seed which produces the most luxuriant harvest
requires proper cultivation to make it minister to the
necessities of man.  The marble which is taken from
the quarry has no attraction for the  eye, until the chisel
of the  sculptor  displays its tortuous veins, and  gives
the beauty of proportion.   So, genius of  the highest
order—without the fostering care of  patrons, and a suit-
able field for its  display—often lies  buried with the
unknown possessor; and mankind  are little sensible
that a brilliant sun  has gone down in darkness, which,
under more favourable circumstances, would have fer-
tilized and adorned society.   If Lord  Clive had not
been employed as a clerk in India, he would, probably,
never have displayed that brilliant  genius which gave
him rank with the nobility of  England, and astonished
the world.
   William Lenhart was the son of  a respectable silver-
smith of  York,  Pennsylvania, where  he was born in
Januaiy,  1787.   His  education  received but  little
attention until, when he was about fourteen years old,
Dr. Adrain—then obscure,but since extensively known
as a mathematician—opened  a  school in  York, and
  *I am indebted to the Princeton Review for the facts on  which
this article is based. 
304            WILLIAM LENHART.
young Lenhart  became  one of his pupils.  Adrain
soon discovered the great mathematical talents of his
pupil; and assumed towards him much of the relation
of a companion in study.  The rock was smitten, and
the waters of genius commenced to  flow in an abun-
dant stream.  Before he left the school of  Dr. Adrain
he became a contributor to the "Mathematical Corres-
pondent"—a periodical published in ^sew York.
  When he  was about seventeen, he entered as clerk
a store in Baltimore.   At that time he was  remarkable
for the beauty of his  person, and the agreeableness of
his manners.  While he remained  in Baltimore, he
occupied his leisure hours with reading and mathema-
tical  studies; and he made contributions to the "Mathe-
matical  Correspondent;"  and also  to  the  "Analyst,"
published  by Dr. Adrain  in Philadelphia.   At the age
of seventeen, he  obtained  a medal for the solution
of a mathematical prize question.
  After  remaining in  Baltimore about  four  years,
Lenhart undertook the care of the books in a commer-
cial  house in  Philadelphia.   As a clerk  and book-
keeper he was unrivalled.  Such was the estimation in
which he  was held by the house, that, after three years,
they offered  him a partnership, by the terms of which
they were to supply the capital—his eminent personal
services  being considered by them  as an  equivalent.
During this period he cultivated mathematicial science.
  Lenhart was now about twenty-four years old;  and,
thus far, his career—considering the difficulties  with
which he  had to contend—had been one of great pros-
perity and promise.  As  to the remainder, "shadows, 
                WILLIAM LENHART.            305

clouds, and darkness rest upon it."  When the pride of
the forest is  preyed upon by the  worm, we are  not
pained by its gradual decay.   The rude tempest passes
by, and  it falls in  the  beauty of its foliage.  The
majestic oak, as it stands upon the  mountain-top, may
be  splintered by  the  lightning; but  our  feelings  of
regret, as we survey the  prostrate trunk, are absorbed
by the contemplation of the  power of the  Almighty.
We have different  emotions when it has been scathed,
and withers, and every wind of heaven blows through
its  leafless  branches.    Deep  must  have  been the
anguish of Lenhart as  he contemplated  his situation,
and felt that the bright prospects of his life were over-
cast, almost as soon as the morning  sun  had arisen.
But, he calmly bowed  his head to  the stroke; and his
noble spirit enabled him to  endure,  with  a martyr's
patience, that which, in the amount of suffering, sur-
passed the torture and the flame.
  About this period he sustained a  serious injury in
consequence of being thrown from a carriage.  The
result was paralysis of the lower extremities.   His suf-
ferings, during the subsequent sixteen years, were in-
describable.  The intervals of pain were employed with
light literature and music.  In the  latter art he made
great  proficiency,  and was supposed to  be the best
chamber flute-player in this  country.  He composed
variations to some pieces of  music, expressive of the
anguish produced by the disappointment of his fondly
cherished hopes of domestic happiness: hopes based
on a matrimonial engagement,—the result of a mutual
attachment from early life.  These variations he would 
306
WILLIAM LENHART.
perform with such exquisite feeling as deeply to affect
all who heard him.  In 1828, having so far recovered
as to walk with difficulty, he again fractured his leg by
a fall.  His sufferings,  at this time, were  almost too
great  for human  nature  to endure.  The  progress  of
his disease paralysed his lips, and he could no longer
amuse himself by playing  on the flute:  and,  as light
literature  did  not give  sufficient employment to his
active mind, he relieved the weariness  of his confine-
ment  by the pursuit of mathematical science.   It was
under such unfavourable circumstances that he made
those advances in  abstruse science which have conferred
distinction on his  name.  A year before  his death, he
wrote to a friend the  following sentence, which will be
duly appreciated by the mathematical reader: "My af-
flictions appear to me  to be not unlike  an  infinite
series, composed  of complicated terms,  gradually and
regularly  increasing—in sadness and  suffering—and
becoming  more and  more involved; and, hence, the
abstruseness of its summation; but, when  it shall be
summed in the end,  by the Great Arbiter and Master
of all, it is to  be hoped that the formula resulting, will
be found to be not only entirely free from  surds, but
perfectly pure and rational, even unto an integer."
  Until 1828, Mr. Lenhart was oppressed to such a
degree by  complicated afflictions, that he did  not de-
vote his attention  to mathematical science.   After this
period he resumed these studies for the purpose  of
mental employment; and contributed various  articles
to mathematical journals.  In 1836, the publication  of
the Mathematical  Miscellany was commenced in New 
                WILLIAM LENHART.            307
York;  and his  fame wa3 established by his contribu-
tions to that journal.  I do not design  to  enter on a
detail  of  his profound researches.  He attained an
eminence in science of which  the  noblest intellects
might  well  be proud; and that too as an amusement,
when suffering from afflictions which, we  might sup-
pose, would  have disqualified him for intellectual la-
bour.   It will be  sufficient to remark that  he has left
behind him a reputation—in the estimation of those
who knew  him—as  the most eminent  Diophantine
Algebraist that has ever lived.  The eminence of this
reputation will be duly estimated when it is recollected
that illustrious men—such as  Euler, Lagrange, and
Gauss—are  his competitors for fame in the cultivation
of  the Diophantine  Analysis.  Well might he say,
that he felt as if he had been admitted into the  sanc-
tum sanctorum of the great temple of Numbers, and
permitted to revel amongst its curiosities.
  Notwithstanding his great mathematical genius, Mr.
Lenhart did not  extend his investigations into the
modern analysis, and the differential calculus, as  far as
he  did into  the Diophantine  Analysis.   He thus ac-
counts  for it: "My taste lies in the old fashioned, pure
Geometry, and  the  Diophantine Analysis, in  which
every  result  is perfect; and,  beyond the exercise of
these two beautiful branches of the mathematics, at
my time of life, and under  present circumstances, I
feel no inclination to go."
  During the autumn of 1839, intense suffering and
great emaciation indicated  that his days were almost
numbered.  His intellectual powers did not decay; but, 
308
WILLIAM LENHART.
like the Altamont of Young, he was  "still strong to
reason,  still mighty  to  suffer."  He indulged  in  no
murmurs on account of the severity of  his fate.  True
nobility submits with grace to that which is inevitable.
Caesar has claims on the admiration of  posterity for the
dignity with which, when he had received the dagger of
Brutus,  he wrapped his cloak  around  his person, and
fell at the feet of Pompey's statue.   Lenhart was con-
scious of  the impulses of his high intellect; and his
heart must have  swelled within him when he contem-
plated the victories he might  have achieved,  and the
laurels  he  might have  won.   But,  he knew  "his
lot forbade" that he should leave other than "short and
simple annals" for posterity.   He died with the calm-
ness imparted by philosophy and  Christianity.  Re-
ligion conferred upon him her consolations in that hour
when  it is only by religion that consolation can be be-
stowed:  and, as he descended into the darkness and si-
lence of the grave, he believed there was another and a
better world,  in which the immortal mind will drink
at the fountain-head of  knowledge,  unencumbered
with the decaying tabernacle of clay by which its lofty
aspirations are here confined as with chains. 
 
 
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