Bx «yii) .U3 i«yu V.4 — '
Dabney, Robert Lewis, 1820-
1898.
Discussions
j^. X. 'DaSney.
DISCUSSIONS
Robert L. Dabney, d. d., ll d.
RECENTLY PROFESSOK OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS, AND FOR
MANY YEARS PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY
IN UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
IN VIRGINIA.
EDITED ]5V
C. R. V AUG HAN, D. D.
PliOFKSSOH OK TIIKOr.OfiY INfNION TIIKdI.txaCAL SKMINAKY. VIK(;iXI.V.
VOL. I V.
SECULAR.
CRESCENT BOOK HOUSE
Mexico, Mo
1897.
Copyritrht by
S. B. ERVIN. Mexico. Mo.
1W7.
PUBLISHER'S PREFACE.
This volume of Dr. Dabney's "Selected Discus-
sions," is the last of the four orig'inally contemplated.
Though it is called •'Secular/' because a large proportion
of the articles are of a secular character; yet doubtless it
will be all the more appreciated because of the greater
variety given in the addition of a goodly number of relig-
ious articles and poems.
He who has either of these volumes has a mine of
thought in which to delve: he who has all has a reservoir
of intellectual and spiritual food seldom equaled in the
writings of any one man.
S. B. Ervin.
COXTEXTS.
PAGE
The New South. ....... 1
Letter to 0. 0. Howard, Chief of Freedmex's Bureau, 25
Abstractionists, . . . . . ' . 46
Crimes of Philanthropy. ..... 53
Defense of Dr. Dabnevs Narrative of the First Battle of
Manassas, ....... 71
Narrative of Col. J. B. Baldwin, of his Secret Interview with
Abraham Lincoln in 1861. Disclosing the Origin of the V/ar. 87
The Real Cause of the War, . 101
The Duty of the Hour. ..... 108
The United States as a Military Nation, . . . 123
Stonewall Jackson, Lecture. ..... 149
The Ne(;ro and the Common School, .... 176
The State Free School Syste.m Imposed upon Virginia by the
Underwood Constitution. ..... 191
Secularized Education. ...... 225
Review of "Wilson's Slave Power in America,"' . - . 248
State Free Schools, ...... 260
Commendation of the Study of Philosophy, Lecture, . . 281
Labor Unions, the Strike and the Commune, . . 294
Depression OF American Farmino Interests, . . 321
The Dollar of the Daddies. ..... 341
Economic Effects of the Former L-a.bor System of the South-
ern United St.\tes. ..... 354
Memoirs of Francis S. Sampson, D. D., . . . . 392
True Courage. A Memorial Sermon on the Death of General T. J.
Jackson, June, 1863. ...... 435
A Memorial of Lieut. Col. John T. Thornton of the Third
Virginia t^avalry, C. S. A . . 453
Nature Cannot Revolutionize Nature, . . . 470
Samuel C. Anderson, of Prince Edward. .... 476
Women's Rights Women, ...... 489
Latest Infidelity. A Reply to Ingersolls Position, . 506
The ATTR.A.CTI0NS of Popery, ..... 540
The Influence of False Philosophies upon Ch.\racter and
Conduct, ....... 568
San Marcus River. ...... 577
Death of Moses. ....... 579
B.A.PTISMAL Hy.mn. A Monody. The Dying Christian, . 584
A Sonnet to Lee, ...... . 587
Gen'l T- J. Jackson. An Elegy, ... . . 588
Annihilation. ... .... 594
First Texas Brigade at the Wilderness, . . . 598
THE NEW SOUTH.
A Discourse delivered at the Annual Commencement of Hampden Sidney
College, June 15, 1882, before the Philanthropic and
Union Literary Societies.
Yoiino- Geurlenieii of the rhilaiirhropic and Union Societies,
And Ladies and Gentlemen of the Audience:
You will credit my expression of sincere embarrassment at
this time when you consider that I am attemptino- a species of
discourse somewhat unwonted to a preaclier of the (Jospel. and
yet more, that I am placed here only as a species of Lirnier Res-
sort. We all had hopes that another gentleman would repre-
sent the two Literary Societies, better fitted to entertain and
instruct this assemblage. But disappointment left the place,
at a very late jieriod, unfilled, and we were threatened with
having this imjiartaut part of our literary anniversary left a
mere blank. I stand here, therefore, in the formula of your ex-
ercises very much in the place of that "infinitesimal quantity,"
which the algebraist places equal to zero in his e(]uation. with-
out appreciable error.
This fact might have led me to decline the untimely etfort.
but we who are passing off the stage of public action owe a
sym})athy to the young who are entering on it, which should
forbid our withholding any service or evidence of affection
they may ask of us. It is this which has forbidden my saying
No to yaur request.
In your case there is another weighty consideration which
ought to reinforce your claim on us for a deep sympathy. This
is found in the momentous difficulties of the Arena on which
the young men af the coming generation are called to act their
part. And yet another thought crosses the mind. Ought the
knowledge of the difficulties which are before you to stimulate
the expression of our interest, or ought it to dictate a modesty,
which should silence us as advisers of ;)ur young countrymen?
For it is by our hands that these ci-uel conditions of youi' life-
problem have been transmitted to vou. The heritage of freedom
2 THE NEW SOUTH.
>.uicli our fathers left us, we have not been able to bequeath to
you. As memory reYerts to my youth, when I stood where you
now stand, it presents a contrast which might well seal my lips
with grief and shame. Then my honored father and grand-
father were just going oft the stage, the one a soldier of the
first war which won our independence, and the other of the sec-
ond war which confirmed it, both examples of that citizen boi-
diery which had been the glory of America, plain, simple, un-
pretending, but incorruptible. And Virginia the.i stood. v» ith
untarnished escutcheon, poor indeed from the burdens of two
wars, and the legislative exactions of her partners in the Union,
clad mostly in homespun, but still the "great and unterrified
commonwealth" which extorted this tribute from Cornwallis
in his hour of victory: ''mother of Statesmen and States," whose
humblest citizen knew no master except God and the law of his
own State's election, whose banner had never trailed before a
conqueror, by whom no federal obligation had ever been dis-
honored, and no creditor ever defrauded of one penny; with a
credit as solid as gold in the emporiums of trade; the firm and
prudent mediator between federal power and the too impatient
spirit of her sisters. Thus did our fathers transmit Virginia to
our guardianship, the warrior-virgin, like the Pallas-Athene of
Phidias, as she stood before the Parthenon, flashing the rad-
iance of her golden helm and full-orbed shield across the Saronic
gulf and Aegina and Salamis, to far off Maegara and Argos.
But we, vac nobis miserrimisl deliver her over to you, not.
How? a pallid, w^oful widow, deflowered by subjugation, dis-
membered of her fair proportions, her weeds besmirched even
by her own sons, virtually governed by the votes of an alien and
barbarous horde, forced into her bosom by her late partners,
now her ravagers, against her constant protest!
As I rememiber this I ask myself, should not men who
have so failed in their charge, who have suffered the glorious
heritage of their fathers to be so marred in their hands, cover
their faces and be silent?
But our sons, whom our weakness, or else our hard fate,
has left disinherited, seem not to be ashamed of us! They ask,
they encourage us to speak. This is my apology for presuming
to speak to-day to the "New South," and of the New South.
THE NEW SOUTH. ^
Oni- otlier apology is, that in the endeavor ta save the liberties
transmitted by our fathers, we did what we could. And in
proof of this justifying- plea, we can point to the forms prema-
turely bent, and the heads whitened by fatigue and camp dis-
eases, to the empty sleeves, and wooden legs, and tD the Con-
federate graves so thickly strewn over the land. Our apology is,
again, that while we were contending for the rights and inter-
ests of the civilized world, nearly the whole world blindly and
passionately arrayed itself against us. Such was the strange
I)ermission of l^rovidence, that we, while defending the cause
of all, should be slandered and misunderstood by all. But why
should I say this fearful dispensation was strange? when we
see that from the days of the Christian martyrs until now,
mankind have usually resisted and sought to destroy its true
benefactors. So it was; we had the world against us. There
was, after all, little exaggeration in the description which the
Confederate soldier at Missionary Ridge, with the humorous
exaggeration of his class, gave of his own case. Said he: No
misgi^ang of our linal delivery had ever disturbed him until at
the early dawn of that disastrous battle, as he was standing post
on the advanced picket on Lookout Mountain, just when the
stars were beginning to pale before the grey dawn, and all na-
ture stood hushed in expectancy of the coming king of day, the
solemn silence was broken by the words of command, rolling
from the Yankee headquarters over the forests in these terms:
''Attention, World! Nations, by the right flank, forward!
Wheel into line of battle." Yes, we had the world against us.
And this is one item of i^roof for that fact which completes
our apology for failure; that subsequent events have shown we
were attempting to defend and preserve a system of free gov-
ernment which had become impossible by reason of the change
and degeneration of the age. We did not believe this at the
time, for we had not omniscience. Nay, it was, at that time,
our duty not to know it, or to believe it, even as it is the duty
of the loyal son not to believe the disease of his venerable
mother mortal, so long as hope is possible; not to cease the ef-
forts of his love, and not to surrender her to death while love
and tenderness can contest the prize. We had received this
free government from our fathers, baptized in their blood; we
4 THE NEW SOUTH.
had received from them the sacred injniictioii to preserve it.
We had witnessed its beneficent results. Of all men it was our
duty to feel ourselves most bound by the maxim of the Roman
republican, IVon\fas est de Republica desperare. The changes
had silently taken place, which rendered our fathers' system
too giood for those who were to execute it; and yet it would
have 'been treason to truth and right for us to despair of the
better possibility, until the impossibility stood sternly revealed.
Thus the task which duty and Providence assigned us was. to
demonstrate by our own defeat, after intensest struggle, the
unfitness of the age for that blessing we would fain have pre-
served for them. Hard task, and hard destiny to attempt the
impossible! but one which has often been exacted l)y a mys-
terious Providence from the votaries of duty. Yet it gives us
this hard consolation, that inasmuch as the survival of our old
sys.tem had become impracticable, failure in the effort to pre-
serve it might be incurred without dishonor.
And there is this concurrence in the justification of the
Oonfederates, and the justification to which you, the "New
South," will soon have to appeal for your actions: that both
apologies are correctly drawn from the ;same premise. Be
cause the old free system has become impossible for your times;
therefore you will be justified in living and acting under an
opposite one. There will be an apparent paradox in this: that
you shall applaud and revere your fathers for their determined
opposition to forms and principles, which you shall recei\e and
even sustain. But the paradox v/ill be only in seeming. Your
justification will be found where we find ours; in the fact that
the institutions which it was our duty to defend, because they
still existed, it will be your duty to surrender, because you have
learned by our innocent calamity that they cannot hereafter
exist. "A new South" is inevitable, and therefore it will be
mght for you to accept it, though it was our duty to fight to
prevent it. It may be the son's duty to-morrow to "bury the
dead mother out of his sight," whom it was the father's most
sacred duty yesterday to endeavor to keep alive.
Tlie government our fathers left to us was a federation of
sovereign States. As such they emerged from the war of the
revolution, and were recognized by Great Britain. As such
THE NEW SOUTH. 5
they met in c-onventioa to devise a ^'closer union." As such
they debated and accepted or rejected the terms proposed
therefDr (for some ^States at first did exercise their unquestion-
ed sovereignty in rejecting the new union.) By their several
and sovereign acts they created a central federated govern-
ment, with limited powers strictly defined, and deputed to this
common agent certain powers over their own citizens, to be im-
partially exercised for the equal behoof of all the partners.
All other powers, including that af judging and redressing vital
infractions of this federal compact, they jealously and express-
ly reserved to themselves or to their people. To the outside
world they were to be one, to each other they were to be still
equals and independent partners. Each State must be a re-
public, as distinguished from a monarchy or oligarchy, but in
all else it was to be mistress of its own internal forms and regu-
lations. The functions of the general government were to be
few and defined, its expenditures modest, and its burdens in
time of peace light. Such was the form, of government insti-
tuted for themselves by our free forefathers; and well fitted
to their genius and circumstances, as communities of farmers,
inhabiting their own homes, approaching an equality of condi-
tion, and having upon the whole continent no one city of con-
trolling magnitude or wealth.
But this century has seen all this reversed; and conditions
of human society have grown up, which make the system of our
free forefath^ers obviously impracticable in the future. And
this is so, not 'because the old forms were not good enough for
this day, but because they were too good for it.
1. I would place as the first of these adverse conditions
the silent substitution, under the same nomenclature, of anoth-
er theory of human rights, in contrast with, and hostile to, that
of our fathers. Those wise men did indeed believe in a certain
equality of all men; bur it was that which the British constitu-
tion (whose principles they inherited) was wont to express by
the maxim: that every British citizen "was equal before the
law." The particular franchises of the peer and the peasant
were very uneijual. but in this important respect the two men
were '*e(iual before the law," that the peasant's smaller fran-
chises were protected toy the same law which shielded the peer's
6 THE XEW SOUTH.
larger one. This is the equality of the golden rule, the equal-
ity of that Bible which ordained the constitution of human so-
ciety out of superiors, inferiors and equals; the equality of the
inspired Job (ch. 31: 13-15) who in the very act of asserting his
right to his slave, added: -Did not he that made me make
him? If I did despise the cause of my man-servant or my maid-
servant when they contended with me. what then shall I do
when God riseth up?" This is the equality which is thoroughly
consistent with that wide diversity of natural cai)acities. vir-
tues, station, sex, inherited possessions, which inexorable fact
discloses everywhere and by means of which social organiza-
tion is possible. But in place of this, the equality taught by
Hampden. Yane. Pym. Melville, and the Whigs of 1776. our
modern politician now teaches, under the same name, the equal-
ity of the Jacobin, of the ''Sans culotte," which absurdly claims
for every human the same specific powers and rights. Yes.
your Greeley teaches, as the equality of Republicanism, the
very doctrine of the frantic Leveller Lilburn. whose book these
great English Republicans caused mot your tyrannical Stuart
but the commonwealth's-men) to be burned in London by the
common hangman I
Our fathers valued liberty, but the liberty for which they
contended was each person's privilege to do those things and
those only to which God's law and Providence gp.ve him a mor-
al right. The liberty of nature which your modern asserts is
absolute license; the privilege of doing whatever a corrupt will
craves, except as this license is curbed by a voluntary "social
contract." The fathers of our country could have adopted the
sublime words of Melville: Lex: Rax. The Law is king. Or
have said with Sir Wm. Jones:
Men constitute a State:
And sovereign Law, that State's collected will.
O'er thrones and globes elate.
Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
Smit by her sacred frown.
The fiend (Construction) Z'Mrr<f//(?« like a vapor sinks.
And even the all-dazzling crown.
Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.
But now. by this new Republicanism, the supreme law is
THK KEVV SOUTH. 7
the will or caprice of what happens to be tlu major mob, the
suggestiou of the demagogue who is most artful to seduce.
These are a few items of the new creed, which has stolen
the nomenclature of the old. Since it is a the3ry at all essen-
tial points antagonistic to the old, its prevalence cannot but
supplant those sound institutions which were the natural out-
growth of the orthodox doctrine.
2. When our former constitution was adopted, America
contained no metropolis, not even any city of note; there were
a few trading tawns. of which each State had one or more, and
of which neither had any effectual ascendancy over the others.
Hence State equality wa.s practicable, and could be effectively
something more than a name. But now% the great emporium of
this continent has made herself, by virtue of natural advantages
co-operating with partial legislation, commercial mistress of
all, and asserts a financial ascendancy which brings the busi-
ness aud the welfare of the whole country to her feet. It used
to be said that in England "all roads lead to London." So, in
this vast continent, all railraads tend to New York, or those
which vainly attempt to reject her dominion soon feel it in the
form of empty trains and vanished revenues. Now, in view of
tlut truth announced by Solomon, that ''money answereth all
thiiigs," can a sensible man persuade himself that political in-
dependence and equality can permanentl}' remain in a land
where financial despotism has become established? "The bor-
rower is servant to the lender." The political subjection must,
sooner or later, follow the financial.
3. Our century has witnessed a general change of social
conditions by means of the marvelous applications of science
and mechanic art to cheapen transportation and production.
Once the commonwealth owned all the highway's by water and
by land, and each private citizen might become a carrier if he
chose, .Sow the highways are the jn'operty of great carrying
corporations, who command more men as their disciplined em-
ployes than the government's own standing army, before whose
revenues the whole incomes of commonwealths are paltry
trifles; to whose will legislatures hasten to bow. Each of these
roads points virtually to New York. To that city, yes, to one
corner of Wall S^roet in that city, center all their debts, their
leans, their revenues, their chief management.
8 THE NEW SOUTH.
This centralization is as remarlvable also in tlio idoducinjjj
ai-ts. The time was when manufactures wci'c literally domestic
— the occupatixms of the people tn their homes. The industrious
]»roducin<;- citizen was a "free-holder," a name wluse A'ital sig-
nificance to Bi'itish liberty our times have almost for<>()tten. He
dwelt under ills own I'oof-tree. He was his own man; he was
the fee-sini]»le owner of the homestead where his })roductions
were created 'by the skill and labor of himself and his children,
a|)prentices and servants. X:)w all this is chan<;'ed; the loom is
no longer heard in the home; vast factories, owned 'by monopo-
lists for whom the cant of the age tias already found their ap-
l)ropriate name as "kiings of industry," now undersell the home
products everywhere. The axe and hoe which the husbandman
wields, ;)nce made at the country forge, tlie shoe jtlaced on his
mule's feet, tlu' jdow witli which he turns the soil, the very
helve in his tool, all come from the factoi-y. The home indus-
try of th(^ housewife in l)i-(nving Ikm- own yeast can hardly sur-
A'ive, but is sup]ilanted by your factory "baking powdei-s," in
which chemical adulterations may liave full play. Thus pro-
duction is centi-alized. Cajxital is collected in c;)mm«ndiiig
masses, at wlio;se bidding the free-holding citizen is sunk into
the multitudinous hiriddng proletariat. Conditions of social or-
ganization ai'e again producf^d, fully iiarallel to the worst re-
sults of feudalism, in their incomjiatibility with rejjublican in-
stitutions.
4. From these changes have resulted the extreme ine(|uuli-
ties of fortune, expenditures and luxuiy wiiich now deform
American society. When our late coiistitution was (^nacted,
American citizens enjoyed a general equality of fortune and
comfort, which made a real, republican (Mjuality of rights prac-
ticable. The only aristocracy recognized was that >f intelli-
gence and merit. The richest citizen was only a farmer, some-
what more abounding than his neigli))or, in the bi-eadth of his
fields. A British writer, endeavoring to trace in the republican
society the existence of a gentry, could find no greater incomes
than those of Washington, of Mt. Vernon, and Carroll, of Car-
rollton, each reaching possibly |20,0()0 jier annum. And the
Mt. Vernon mansion appeared in his eyes so modest that he
spoke of it as ''the cottage," inhabited by the proprietor. But
THE NEW SOUTH. 9
now I some of oiii- "kings of indnstiy" count rlieir incomes b.v
almost as many dollars per day. Set the more than rejial lux-
ury of a \'anderbilt, in his gaudy palace, beside the hirtding
laborer in his sordid tenemenl lodging, who is Ms theoretical
equal! Yes, the starving hireling's vote, who does not know
whence to-morrow's potatoes are to come for the i)au})er din-
ner of his ragged children, shall count f )r precisely as uuicli
as the vote of a Vanderbilt. This is the theory. And ihis
wretch is so exalted by luis manhood sutfrage, is he? as to be
thoroughly content with the monstrous inequality of enjoy-
ments and to hearken to no cravings of envy or rancour, when
he sees this rampant luxury tiaunted before his misery? And
this lorldly millionaire, pampered by his immeasurable abun-
dance, will feel no lust of jvower, no am'bition to add civic do-
minion to the plutocratic whicli he already possesses, and he
will be satisfied to have the ignorant vote of his hireling weigh
precisely as much as his own in every legislative act touching
his tenure of his millions? He who knows human nature sees
that to expect this is nuM-e ci-aziness. This enormous ineciual-
ity in wealth will seek to protect, to assert itself in politics.
But our new-fangled Rei»ublicanism asserts that, politically,
the ^'anderbilt shall be tln^ precise equivalent of the pauper.
It leaves the rich man no legitimate form for the assertion of
his superior weight or the protection of his superior interests
in the State. Wealth, then, must seek for itself illegitimate
forms. And in obeying the inevitable impulse through these
illegal ways, it must corru|)t itself, and the institutions :)f the
land.
5. The press has been looked to as the safe guardian of
popular institutions. It has been called by an p]nglish \\'hig
"the fourth estate of the Realm. " But the intiuences under
which the political press in America operates constitute this
also (me of the fatal hindrances ro the subsistence of wise, free
institutions. The powerful jouinals must be also the creatures
of money. The conditions of journalism are such that (mly a
vast capital can float a journal into a safe and permanent hav-
en of success. Literature is a commodity, money buys and sells
it. Let the genius of an Addison, a Bolingbrooke, a Junius, a
3Iacaulav, all be combined on the one side, with all the richest
10 THE NEW SOUTH.
resources of historical learning to publish the political truths
which happen to be unpopular without a great capital; and let
commercial capital give its supp3rt to the pen of the most ig-
norant demagogue to propagate the crudest absurdities in which
capital supposes it has a selfish and corrupt interest, you suall
see the wisdom of true statesmanship, embellisii^d by all the
graces of scholarship consigned to an unread obscurity in this
coantry, while the vulgar stupidities of error shall visit e^■e^y
table and claim every eye. Mammon wills it so, and Mammon
rules.
The reason is because the leading presses of the couinier-
cial centers are either the tools of parties and used for exclu-
sive partisan purposes, or else they are. like the c;Uico mills,
mere joint-stock cancerns for money making. Either ,vay, the
result is the same. The contents of the journ:'.l are not dictat-
ed at all by truth or right, but solely by self-interest. What
doctrine shall it assert? Only that which advances the strength
of the faction, or which attracts the more numerous subscrib-
er's. Thus the press instead of being the guide, bec9mes the
mere sycophant of misguided public opinion. Let only any
political heresy begin to be current enough to become an ele-
ment of danger to sound institutions, and thenceforward it is
the interest and business of the great journals to give it their
support. To resist and explode it "would not pay."
6. One more change only, my time permits me to state,
which C3ncur.s to render the system of our fathers a thing cf
the past. This is the invariable extension of the suffrage, which
has attended every political change in America. This trait has
characterized not only the violent revolution through which we
have passed, but every modification of constitution made by the
States. We even see it working with equal certainty in the re-
form measures of once conservative England. In every case
where a State constitution has been opened to change, that
change has been towards universal suffrage, unless this ex-
treme had been already reached; and in no single case has a
restriction of suffrage been even attempted. There is a reason
for this fated law of progress downwards in the nature of the
demagogue, and it may be said in passing, that this presents
us the fatal weak pDint in the theory of popular government.
THE NEW SOUTH. 11
The selfish calcuhitions and instincts of these courtiers of Kinj;-
Mob, ahvaj's prompt them to advocate every extension, no
matter how unwise or destructive, and seal their lips from oji-
posing it. Their calculation runs thus: Here is a new class
whom some one has proposed to enfranchise. I know, as does
everj' sensible man, that it is a folly. But perhaps the proposal
may prevail. Hence, I cannot afford to appose it, for shouid
it prevail, the newly enfranchised, when they come to the polls,
will remember my action against me. But if I am a forward
advocate of it, their gratitude will make them vote for me.
Thus the craziest and most ruinous proposition to create a new
class of voters, always has zealous assertors, and for the same
reason it meets with no opposers who are effective.
Such were the avowed motives (with sectional hatred and
revenge) which prompted our conquerors to fix on the South-
ern half of the country that last extreme of political madnes^s,
the universal and unqualified suffrage of the slaves. And how
deadly in their potency these motives of self-seeking are, we
may see in this fact, that they even silence the protest of our
own politicians! There is not one of them w:ho does not know
that this measure is inevitably pregnant with the corruption
and overthrow of honest, popular government; yet there is not
one of them, who is a candidate for votes, who has the nerve
to say what he thinks, or to demand a reversal of the criminal
blunder. But when the leaders of the very people who are the
first victims of this wrong, are too much intimidated to lift a
finger for its correction, whence shall deliverance from the fa-
tal incubus come? There will be no deliverance until suft'rage
shall have been so foully corrupted by this and its other per-
versions, that a despairing and ruined people take refuge frcm
its intolerable tyrannies in the will of an autocrat, and the ig-
norant and venal cease to vote only when and because all will
be forbidden to vote.
Whether just and free institutions can co-exist in such a
country as this, with its vast population and inequalities o-f
condition, along with this extravagance of universal suffrage,
needs no debate. Do you remember the prophetic letter of Lord
Macaulay to Mr. Randall, of Xew York? Do you rememiber the
homely instance by which a greater than Macaulay, and a more
12 THE NEW SOUTH.
liiophetic statesmau, was wont to close Ms arguments in favor
of that sheet anchor of liberty, free-hold suflfraue? Mr. Ran
(lalph used to exclaim: '"Sirs, the empty sack does not stand
upright." In an advanced material civilization like ours, ev-
ery political action touches property somewhere. If the vote
which represents no property is made of equal weight with the
vote which represents large property, then, with such inequali-
ties of wealth, with such ostentatious displays of the luxury of
the few }ji(iuing the envy af the impoverished many, just so
surely as men are men. greedy in desire, selfish and unright-
eous, and the more unrighteous where their crime is wrapi)ed
up from the eye of conscience in the folds of associated action,
two results must follow, are already following. The attempt
of the proletariat and their demagogues to use their irresponsi-
ble suffrage for plunder; the resistance of the capital-holding
minority to this plunder. But for this resistance, though it be
as inevitable as the instincts of self-preservation, your radical
theory offers no recognized, legitimate mode. Radicalism or-
dains that the small shall be equal to the large; the dependent
shall counterweigli the independent; the vote which has noth-
ing to lose, shall dispose of the vote of him who has all to lose.
The result is. that self-defense invents illegitimate nudes, and
the unrighteous assault on property is met by the illegal use of
property to protect itself and to intiate itself until the moral
corruptions wrought in our politics fester to putrescence and
dissolve the body.
As we thus lo )k back upon the social revolution which had
established itself in our century, we see that political revolu-
tion had become unavoidable. The assault on our rights and
institutions was but the first wave of the cataclysm. It swejit
over our best resistance, because there were other waves be-
hind it which are desfined in turn to (•()n(]uer our romiuerDrs.
He is a shallow man, indeed, who supposes that the rev(dution
will pause at its present stage, leaving the conquering section
ascendant, and rendering this unstable eciuilibrium of the mo-
ment permanent. No. we have now seen but the first act of the
drama, and it has been a tragedy. The curtain has falleu for
the time to the music of a miserere, whose jarring chords have
fretted the heartstrings of such as Lee and his comrades into
THE NEW SOUTH. 13
death. It mav well liappeu that after rhe fashion of the mimic
stage, the next rise of rhe curraiu may be accompanied by the
garish lights of a deceitful joy, the blood stains of the recent
tragedy covered with fresh saw dust, and the new act:M's ush-
ered in with a burst of gay melody. But the other acts are ro
foll'ow. May they not be tragic also?
That popular suffrage does not now really govern this conn
try, that it is notoriously a marketable cammodity, that rlie
United States have really ceased already to be what they pre-
tend, a federation of republican States, no clear sighted man
doubts. Under a thin veil of radical democracy, the govern-
'menr has already become an oligarchy. Are not Srate conven-
tions traded off by the magnates as openly as blocks of rail-
road bonds? Are not legislatures bought as really and ;ilmosr
as 'Openly as cargoes of corn? Are not "corners" made in jioli-
ties by which the weaker caititalists are sold out, as really as
in the pork market? It is Washington or Wall street which
really dictates what platforms shall be set forth, and what can-
didates elected and what appointments made, not the peoi)le of
the States. Some of you may have heard of the incident which
happened in our neighboring town, in that year when our South-
ern conservatives, in their wisdom, made Horace Greeley their
standard-bearer, hoping, it seems, like the superstitious Jews,
to "cast out devils through Beelzebub, the chief of the devils";
to retrieve the cause of order and right through the arch in-
cendiary and agitator of the country. Several hopeful souls
were arguing his success from the many signs of his acceptance
with the people. It was said, whole radical towns, whole Union
Leagues in the northwest were coming over to Greeley. A
sagacious banker standing 'by quietly shook his head. Our
friends, almost vexed at his skepticism, asked: "Why? do not
all these accessions, with the Southern support, promise him
success?'' His answer was: "Gentlemen, I do business in
Wall Street, and Wall Street does not want Greeley." And so
the country did not have Greeley, and Greeley did not liave the
presidency he coveted, but went aside to die of chagrin.
So Wall Street saw in the third term im])erialism tliinly
masked, and as its oligarchs preferred to be mast(M-s tliem-
selves, rather than have Grant their master and ours. Wall
14 THE NEW SOtTTlt.
Street sent to Chu-ago and nominated Garfield as its convenient
Iny-figure. l>ut liaving carried its main point it really cared
A'erj little abont tiie clioice between him and Hancock, and for
a time did not trouble itself. So the people were about to elect
Hancock. Eut yne line morning this simple minded "beefeater"
perpetrated the faux pas of endorsing the greenback victory in
Maine. And now that Wall Street saw that the Hancock regime
was committed to "soft money," it did trouble itself, and woke
up and put its hand to the canvass. It would none of Hancock
and his soft money, and so the people could not have Hancock
nor he have the presidency.
Obviously the government now ascendant in the cauntry
while "Republican" in name and ultra-democratic in theory, is
an oligarchy in fact. Extremes often thus meet. Nothing can
be more fallacious than thai viev.-, advanced by some of our
conciliatory statesmen, which represents the recent revolutions
as only a temporary- excitement and partial fit of excess from
which the institutions of the country will re-act under prudent
management and regain their old constitutional status. There
will be no re-action in that sense. The morbid causes which
were so potent to overthrow will yet more certainly be power-
ful enough to resist and suppress the weak efforts of a crip-
pled, prostrate constitution. The obstacles between us and a
return to past precedents are too mountainous. Consider for
instance, that "spoils system," now strong with a generation's
growth. If it is to be perpetrated, this of itself makes popular
constitutional government impossible. For every intelligent
man sees that it converts office-holders from servants of the peo-
ple to paid agents for circumventing the people's will at the
polls, paid with the money of the people they help to enslave.
This is the very signature of despotism, that the citizen's
money is taken to bribe agents for suppressing the citizen's
will. Under this system the office-holders are the pretorian co-
horts of the usurper.
But let one think out now the conditions essential to the
realizing of that "civil service reform," which each party pre-
tends to promise, but which neither party purposes, as the ap-
propriate remedy for the spoils system. One of the requisite
conditions is that one of these parties upon ousting the other
THE NEW SOUTH. l5
from power shall exercise the self-denial and magnanimity to
leave all their rival's appointees, except those expressly pun-
ishable fov official malfeasance, undisturbed in their offices and
salaries. For if the victorious party is to signalize its acces-
sion, won, we will suppose, on the promise of civil service re-
form, by expelling all the office-holders of the opposite and de-
feated part3% this will not be lo inaugurate the whjlesome
remedy, but only to repeat the abuse. And thus they would
more than ever ensure at the next turn of the wheel of fortune
that their reinstated rivals would imitate their vindicative ex-
ample, turn out all their new appointees and again postpone
the happy change. Let us suppose, for example, that the peo-
ple should again elect a conservative President and that he
should not, like poor Mr. Tilden, submit at the bidding of Wall
Street to the robbery of himself and the people of America, but
should be inaugurated; shall he magnanimously leave every ap-
pointee, though an agent or a tool of the present spoils system,
undisturbed? Then there is no official reward for his support-
ers who have toiled for his election. They must have worked
for naught but an idea, a prompting of pure patriotism. Whence
is the money to come to wage the campaign when all will have
been notified in advance that there will be no way for them to
repay themselves out of the public crib? It is well known that
a national campaign now costs as much as a military one, and
that money is to it as essential as ''the sinews of war." Does
any party in America possess this lofty patriotism? Will eith-
er party thus work for nothing? But let us suppose that the
incoming conservative shall make a pretext that the office-hold-
ers he finds in place have been there as "spoils-men," and turn
them out to make room for his supporters; then the inevitable
result is that the opposing party will denounce him as a traitor
to his own civil service reform, and devote themselves to retalia-
tion. Such are the obstacles which beset the abatement of this
peril in America. "Canst thou draw out Leviatiian with a
hook, or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down? Canst
thou put a hook into his nose?"
Such are the fatal influences which obstruct all return and
ensure the progress of the revolution. There is a new era and
hence there must be a "New South."
16 THE NEW SOUTH.
What manner of thing shall it be? To pragnosticate or
prophecy is not the prooer part for us to phiy who fell with
the old South. For us a more modest part is appropriate. We
shall claim our prerogative forever of defending our own prin-
ciples, which a decadent country has pronounced too elevated
for it to tolerate, and of consulting oui- own self-respect. Jus-
tice to you requires that we shall leave y;)u to guide your own
destiny in that new and untried sea into whicli you are launcli-
ing.
But there are some principles whicli we may safely incul-
cate on you, because whatever else may change these cannot
change. The glory of our old indei)en(lence and its history. \\\ii
beneficence of the confederate principles of our old c »nstitu-
tion, concurred to teach us an exalted, peihajts an overwean-
ing appreciation of the value of sucli political institutions. But
we do not forget that other peaple have had other forms of
government, aristocratic or regal, and under them liave had
their share of the domestic virtues, of patriotism, of civilization,
of Christianity. (But under the illicit and dirty oligarchy of
which our ])i"esent regime is a virtual specimen, no pe3ple has
ever had or can ever have anything but corruption, ignominy
and vice.) Our best pra^'er for you is. that out of the present foul
transition, a good Providence may cause some new order to
arise tr)leral)le for honest men. The changes implied in the in-
troduction of this new order may be accepted by the old con-
federates as old age. as infirmity, or as a not distant death.
They must be accepted by me as the inevitable. But the prin-
ciples of ti-utli and rigliteousness are as eternal as their divine
legislator. These must be uplield under all dynasties and forms.
Here, in one word, is the safe pole-star for the "New South"';
let them adrjpt the scriptural politics, assured that they will
ever be as true and just under any new regime as under the
one that has passed away: "That righteousness exalteth a
nation, but sin is a reproach to any people." That "wisdom and
knowledge shall be the sta'bility of thy times, and strength of
salvation; the fear of the Lord is His treasure.'' That "he that
walketh righteously and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth
ihe gain of oppressions, that sliak(4h his hands from holding
of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and
THE NEW SOUTH. 17
shutteth his eyes from beholding evil; he shall dwell on high;
bis place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks."
Some of the applications of these unchanging principles
are obvious to experience guided by truth. Permit me briefly
to unfold three of these to you, which are shown to be timely
and momentous by the special temptations to which a subju-
gated people are exposed while passing of necessity under a
new and conquering system. One of these plausible tempta-
tions is to conclude that the surest way to retrieve your pros-
perity will be to BECOME LIKE THE CONQUERORS. Tliis is an in-
ference as false as it is specious; the fact that your fathers are
conquered may ground a good inference perhaps, that you
should seek to be in some respect^ unlike us. May you be un-
like us in being more fortunate I But a very brief observation
of history will teach you that violent aggressors, in overthrow-
ing their rivals, also usually prepare their own overthrow. Their
calamities are only postponed to the second place. The Jacob-
ins overthrew Louis XVI., but Bonaparte crushed the Jacobins,
and Europe crushed Napoleon. Shall this be the best reparation
for the miseries of the fall of the Confederacy; that you shall
share, for a few deceitful days, the victors' gains of oppression,
to be overwhelmed along with him in his approaching retribu-
tion? Be sure of one thing, "his curses will come home to
roost." In order to escape the fearful reckoning, you must
not only make yourselves unlike as but unlike them.
"The North triumphed by its wealth." Here is the tempta-
tion to the New South, to which I already see ominous sympt-
oms of yielding, to make wealth the idol, the all in all of sec-
tional greatness. I hear our young men quote to each other
the advice of the wily diplomat Gorstchacoff, to the beaten
French: ''Be strong." They exclaim: Let us develope! de-
velope! develope! Let us have, like our conquerors, great
cities, great capitalists, great factories and commerce and
great populations; then we shall cope with them.
Now here is a path which will require of you the nicest dis-
crimination, and the most perspicacious virtue and self-denial.
On the one hand it is indisputable that under our modern, ma-
terial civilization, wealth is an essential element of national
greatness. The commonwealth which presents a sparse and
18 THE NEW SOTJTH.
impoverrsiied population, in competition with a rich and popu-
lous rival, will come by the worse in spite of her martial vir-
tues; and may make her account to be dependent and subordin-
ate. Hence to develope the South is one of the plainest duties
of patriotism. To increase its riches is one way to increase its
power of self-proteetion. And a knowledge, and hardy, dili-
gent practice of the industries of production are among the
civic virtues which it behooves the New South to cultivate. So
much is to be asserted on that side.
But on the other side the deduction that all our section has
to do is to imitate the conquering section in that one of its
qualities by which it got wealth; to make the appliances of
production the all in all; to exclaim as so many do of factories,
and mines, and banks, and stock boards, and horse-powers of
steam, and patent machines, ''These be thy gods, O Israeli''
This would be a deadly mistake. Does not history teach that
^'wealth is the sinews of war?" jes, not seldom; but it teaches
at least as often that wealth and material civilization have
been the emasculators of nations and the incitements of their
enemies at once, only ensuring the deeper destruction for the
rich and cultivated people. Our own overthrow is near at
hand to teach us this lesson, for we were the richer section sub-
jugated by the poorer, which was shrewd enough to hie on the
pauper proletaries of a hungry world upon our wealth as their
prey. Ek) some of you exclaim: "What, the South the richer
section?'' Very likely many of you are already so indoctrinated
in that tuition of lies, against which I shall have to caution you
anon, that this will be news to you. Xevertheless is it true:
the South was by one-quarter if not one-third, the richer sec-
tion, as was proved by the stubborn evidence of the census re-
turns of the government itself, as managed by our enemies.
The wisdom of the Xew South, then, must be in pursuing
the sharp line which divides the neglect from the idolatry of
riches. If they be pursued as an end instead of a means, they
become your ruin instead of your deliverance. If riches when
acquired are employed to enervate your manhood with costly
pomps and luxuries instead of being consecrated to the noble
uses of charity and public spirit, the richer the New South be-
comes the weaker she will be. The problem you have to learn
THE NKW south. i^
is how to combine the possession of g^reat wealth with the per-
sonal practice of simplicity, hardilioid and self-sacritice. That
people which makes seltish. material jiood its (xod, is doomed.
In this world of sin the sjjirit of heroic self-sacritice is the es-
sential condition of national greatness and hapi)iness. The
only sure wealth of the State is in cultured, heroic men, who
intelligently know f^eir duty and are caLmly prepared to sac-
rifice all else, including life, to maintain the right. Well then
did the President of the Confederacy utter these golden words,
that "the spirit of self-sacrifice is the crown of the civic vir-
tues." I know that there is a generation, "O, how lofty are
their eyes and their eyelids lifted up," who boast tliat their
cuteness is in pursuing the "main chance," and who flout this
virtue of disinterestedness as a wealc folly; and yet for lack of
this virtue their prosperity is ever perishing and their material
civilization is ever, like the tawdry pyrotechnics of some popu-
lar feast, burning out its own splendors into ashes, darkness
and a villainous stench of brimstone. Tlie New South then
needs wealtli, but it also needs men, high-minded men. unde-
bauched by wealth, who, like the "high privates" of the Con-
federate ranks, shall know how to postpone ease and the de-
lights of culture for the invincible endurance of hardship and
danger.
2. Subjugation presents to the honorable conquered man
another alternative of temptations. The one is that of moral
disgust, prompting him to turn with proud disdain from all
concern with public affairs, and wrap himself like a hermit in
the folds of his own self-respect. It is to the best natures that
this is most alluring; how attractive is the thought 'of thus eas-
ing one's infinite disgusts? How plausible the argument which
says: Let those who have by fraud or force usurped the helm
bear the responsibility of wrecking the ship. But the error of
this resort is that it neglects the claims of patriotism and robs
the State, in the moment of her need, of the virtues and facul-
ties most essential to her deliverance. These unbending spirits
who cannot be reconciled to disgrace are the very ones that
.can now be least spared. To conquer the burning repugnance
to all the loathsome incidents of misconception, slimy slander,
corruption and ingratitude with which one must meet in serv-
20 THE JvfEW SOUTH.
ing a state under the eclipse of subjugation, this may be a
cross as bitter as death. But how many of our noblest and
best have already borne the cross of death in the same cause?
The alternative temptation is yet more seductive to the
more supple temperament. This is to exaggerate and pervert
the plea of acquiescence in the inevitable; to cry, "Oh there is
no use nor sense in cantending against fate,'' and on this ar-
gument to act the trimmer and turncoat. How much easier is
this to the pliable temper? And it may be, how profitable to
the pocket. It is so sweet a relief to the lassitude which such
a mind experiences at being ever in the self-respecting the
righteous and the unsuccessful minority. Ah, how tiresome is
it to such a man to hold up the standard of principle wiien it is
unsustfiined by the breeze of popularity! Poor soul, how his
arms ache, and how do they crave rest in the ai^is of the cor-
rupt majority.
But even by the light of that policy, which such men make
their pole-star, it would be better, while recognizing the in-
evitable, still to cleave to moral consistency and principle. For
I surmise that when you seek a market for your capacities in
the fonim of the new regime, its managers will tell you that
turncoats are decidedly a drug in that market. The demand is
utterly overstocked, the market glutted. It is the men who
have convictions and who cleave to them, who are the article
in demand; in demand even with political adversaries, who,
themselves, have no principles. For such men, however venal,
soon learn the truth that the turncoat who could not be trusted
to cleave to his principles, can as little be trusted to stick to
the master who has bought him.
3. It behooves the New South, in dismissing the animosi-
ties of the past, to see to it that they retain all that was true
in its principles or ennobling in its example. There are those
pretending to belong to this company who exclaim: ''Let us
bury the dead past. Its issues are all antiquated, and of no
more practical significance. Let us forget the passions of the
past. We are in a new world. Its new questions alone concern
us." I rejoin: Be sure that the former issues are really dead
before you bury them! There are issues which cannot die
without the death of the people, of their honor, their civiliza-
TllK NEW SOUTH. 21
tion and their greatness. Take care that you do not bury too
much, while burying the dead past: that 3'OU do not bury the
inspiring memories of great patriots, whose actions, whether
successful or not, are the eternal glor}' of your race and section ;
the influence of their virtues, the guiding precedents of their
histories. Will you bury the names and memories of a Jackson
and Lee, and their noble army of martyrs? Will you bury true
history whose years are those of the God of Truth?
There is one point on which you insist too little, which is
vital to the young citizens of the South. This is, that he shall
not allow the dominant party to teacli him a perverted history
of the past contests. This is a mistake of which you are in im-
minent peril. With all the astute activity of their race, our
conquerors strain every nerve to preoccupy the ears of all
America with the false version of affairs which suits the pur-
poses of their usurpation. With a gigantic sweep of mendacity,
this literature aims to falsify or misrepresent everything; the
very facts of history, the principles of the former Constitution
as admitted in the days of freedom by all statesmen of all par-
ties; the characters and motives of our patriots; the i)urposes
of parties; the very essential names of rights and virtues and
vices. The whole sway of their commercial and political ascen-
dancy is exerted to fill the South with this false literature. Its
sheets come up, like the frogs of Egypt, into our houses, our
bed chambers, our very kneading troughs. Now, against this
deluge of perversions I solemnly warn young men of the South,
not for our sakes, but for their own. Even if the memory of
the defeated had no rights; if historical trutli had no preroga-
tives; if it were the same to you that the sires wliose blood fills
your veins, and whose names you bear, be written down as
traitors by the pen of slanderous history, still it is essential to
your own future that you shall learn the history of the past
truly. For the institutions which are to be, however unlike
those wliich have been, must have a causal relation to them:
must be in some sense the progeny of them. The chrysalis is
very unlike its progeny, but none the less its traits determine
those of tlte gorgeous butterfly. The acorn is not like a tree,
yet its s])ecies determines the shape and qualities of the mon-
arch of the forest. To-morrovv''s configuralion of the planets
22 THE NEAV SOUTH.
may be very dissimilar from that of to-day, but it will be rigid-
ly couseqiiential thereon. Hence the astronomer who miscon-
ceives and mi.sstates the positions of the jrbs to-day. must in-
evitably err in his prediction of their conjunctions to-morrow.
So if public men will gratify their spite, or revenge, or lust of
sectional power by misrepresenting the late events, they there-
by condemn themselves t3 fatal bluiiderings and mistakes in
prognosticating that future which can only be the caused se-
quel Li) this. If you w^ould not be mere blunderers in your new
constructions, then you must understand aright the structure
of those recent actions on which they must found themselves.
You will seek to learn them, not from a Greeley or a Henry
Wilson, but from a Stephens and a Davis. While yoti do not
allow your judg^'ment to be hoodwinked by even the possible ex-
aggerations of our own patriots, still less will you yield your
minds to the malignant fables of those partisans wlio think
they can construct history as unscrupulously as a political ring.
Our age presents the strange instance of a numerous party,
who think they can circumvent the resistless forces of truth by
^systematically misnaming facts and fallacies, who are deliber-
ately building a whole system of empire on the substitution of
light for darkness and darkness for light, of good for evil and
evil for good, calling that master in our government which was
servant, that patriotism which was treason, and that treason
which was true, law-preserving patriotism, and that aggres-
sion which was righteous defense. If you wish to be buried
deeper than thrice buried Troy beneath the final m:)untains of
both defeat and shame, go with these architects of detraction.
They are but arraying themselves against that unchangeable
God who has said: ''The lying tongue is but for a moment, but
,ihe lip of truth shall be established forever."
I have admitted, young gentlemen, that constitutions and
laws may change, but honor, justice and right are immutable.
Be loyal to these in all novel emergencies, and you will act
safely. If this virtue, the foundation of all the civic, exists in
you, it will, it must manifest itself most plainly in reverence
and enthusiasm for the heroic and the self-sacrificing of your
own people and State. Their actions have placed the right be-
fore you incorporate'. >vith all the definiteness of outline and
THE NEW SOUTH. 23
vividness of coloring which belong- to concrete realities. Their
actions concern your hearts by virtue of all the ties of neighbor-
hood and patriotism. As long as the hearts of the New South
thrill with the generous though defeated endurance of the men
of 1861; as long as they cherish these martyrs of constitutional
liberty as the glory of their Stare and its history, you will be
safe from any base decadence. If the generation that is to
come ever learns to be ashamed of these men because they were
overpowered by fate, that will be the moral death of Virginia,
a death on which there will wait no resurrection. But I do nor
fear this.
I recall what my own eyes witnessed at the last great civic
pomp in which I was present. This was the installment of that
statue of Jackson near 3ur State capitol, which Virginia re-
ceived as the tribute of British statesmanship and culture to
her illustrious dead. At this ceremonial there were gathered
almost the whole intelligence and beauty of what was left of
tile old commonwealth. As the long processiau wound through
the streets marshaled and headed by General Joseph E. John-
ston, under the mild glory of our October sun, while the at-
mosphere was palpitating with military music and the whole
city was gone upjn its house-tops, it was easy to pen-eive that
all eyes and all hearts were centering upon one sole part of the
pageant, and this was not the illustrious figure that headed it,
the commander in so many historical battles, bestriding his
charter with his inimitable martial grace; nor was it the clus-
ter containing the remnant of Jackson's statf. We might have
supposL'd that we would receive some reflected distinction from
the luminary to which we had been satellites so near, and that
some romantic curiosity might direct itself to those who had
habitually seen him under fire, heard, and borne those orders
which had decided memorable victories, and bivouacked under
the same blanket with him; but no eye sought us. Then came
hobbling a company of two hundred and thirty grizzled men
with empty sleeves, and wooden legs, and scarred faces, and
hands twisted into every distortion which the fiery fancy of the
rifle-ball could invent, clad in the rough garb of a laboring
yeomanry, their faces bronzed with homely toil: this was the
company for which every eye waited, and as it passed the
24 THE NEW SOUTH.
mighty tlirono; was moved as the trees of the forest are moved
by the wind, the multitudinous white arms waved their superb
welcome, and the thundering cheer rolled with the column from
end to end of the great city. It was the remnant of the Stone-
wall Brigade I That was the explanation. This wa.>< the tribute
which the sons, the daughters, the mothers of Virginia paid
to -sturdy heroism in defent And as I saw this my heart said
with an exultant bound. "There is life in the old land yet!"
TO MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD."
Chief of the Freedmen's Bureau, Wasliiiin^foii.
Sir: Your high official trust makes you, in a certain sense,
the representative man of the Xarth, as concerns their dealing
with the African race in these Ignited States. It is as sucli that
I venture to address you, and through you all your fellov
citizens on behalf of this recently liberated people. My pur-
pose is humbly to remind you of your weighty charge, and to
encourage you to go forward with an enlarged philanthropy
and zeal in that career of beneficence toward the African which
Providence has opened before you. Rarely has it fallen to the
lot of one of the sons of men to receive a larger trust, or to en-
joy a wider opportunity for doing good. At the beginning of
the late w\ar there were in the South nearly four millions of
Africans. All these, a nation in numbers, now taken from
their former guardians, are laid upon the hands of that govern-
ment of which you are the special agent for their protection
and guidance. To this nation of black people you are virtually
father and king; your powers for their management are unlimit-
ed, and for assisting their needs you have the resources of the
"greatest people on eartli." Your action for the freedmen's
good is restrained by no constitution or precedents, but the
powers yon exercise for them are as full as your office is novel.
We see evidence of this in the fact that your agents, acting for
the good of your charge, can seize by military arrest any one of
their fellow-citizens of African descent, for no other offense
than being unemployed, convey him without his consent, and
without the company of his wife and family, to a distant field
of industry, where he is compelled to wholesome labor for such
remuneration as you may be pleased to assign. Another evi-
dence is seen in your late order, transferring all causes and in-
dictments in which a freedman is a party, from the courts of
law of the Southern States to the bar of your own commission-
1 Appeared in New York Weekly News, Oct. 21, 1865. 25
26 MAJOK GEJ>iEEAL HOWARD.
ers and .siib-cuinmissiunei's for adjudication. I beg you to be-
lieve that these iustanc-es are not cited bv me for the puppase of
repeating tlie cavils against the justice and consistency of the
powers exercised in them, in which some have been heard to
indulge. My purpose is not to urge with them that there is no
law by which a free citizen can be riglitfully abridged <of his
liberty of enjoying the otium cuf?i dignitate so long as he ab-
stains fram crime or misdemeanor therein, merely because he
wears a black skin, while the same government does not pre-
sume to interfere with the exercise of this privilege by his
white fellow-citizens, even though they be those lately in rebel-
lion against it; tliat this military arrest and transferrence to
the useful though distant scene of compulsory labor, is precise-
ly that penalty of "transportatijn" which Southern laws never
inflicted, even on the slave, except for crime and after judicial
investigation; that these commissioners for adjudicating cases
to which freedmen are parties, are in reality judges at law, ap-
pointed by you, for every city and county in eleven States, and
empowered to sit without jury, and to decide withaut regard to
the precedents or statutes of the States; which would exhibit
3'our bureau as not only an executive, but a judicial branch of
the government, established without constitutional authority,
and that a hundred fold more pervasive in its jurisdiction than
the Supreme Court itself; and that this "order"' has, by one
stroke of your potent pen, deprived eight millions of white
people of the right of a trial by jury, guaranteed to them by
the sixth and seventh additional articles of the United States
Coustituti3n, in every case where a freedman happens to be a
party against them. I repeat, that I have not adduced these
instances for the purpose of urging these or such like objec-
tions; (it does not become the subject to cavil against the pow-
ers exercised by his conquerors), but only to impress you with
the obligation, which the fullness of your powers brings upon
you, to do good to your charge upon a great scale.
I cannot believe that means will be lacking to you any
more than powers. At your back stands the great, the power-
ful, the rich, the prosperous, the philanthropic, the Christian
Xorth, friend and liberator of the black man. It must be as-
sumed that the zeal which waged a gigantic war for four years,
MAJOR GEN^ERAL HOWARD. 27
wliicli expended three thousand million of dollars, and one mil-
lion of lives, in large part to free the African, will be willing to
lavish anything else which may be needed for his welfare. And
if the will is present, the ability is no less abundant among a
people so wealthy and powerful, who exhibit the unprecedented
spectacle of an emersion from a war which would have been
exliausting to any other people with resources larger than
when they began it, and who have found out (what all previous
statesmen deemed an impossibility), that the public wealth
nia}' be actually increased by unproductive consumption. With
full powers and means to do everything for the African, what
may he not expect from your guardianship?
The answer which a generous and humane heart would
nuike to this question, must of course be this: that it would seek
to do for the good of its charge everything 7vhich is possible.
But more definitely I wish to remind you that there is a mini-
mum limit, which the circumstances of the ease forbid you to
touch. Common sense, common justice says: that the very
least you can do for them must be more than the South has
accomplished, from wliose tutelage they have been taken. To
this measure, at least, if not to some higher, your country, pos-
terity, fame, and the righteous heavens, will rigidly hold you.
The reason is almost too plain to be explained. If a change
procured for the Africans at sucli a cost brings them no actual
benefit, then that cost is uncompensated, and the expenditure
of human weal which has been made was a blunder and a
crime. Thus it becomes manifest that the measure for the
task which you have before you, is the work which the South
accomplished for the negro while he was a slave. The ques-
tion, how much was this? is a vital one for you; it gives you
your starting i»oint from whicli you must advance in your
career of progressive philanthropy. Listen then.
First, for the physical welfare of the negro the South has
done something. A rapid increase of population and longevity
are a safe index of the prosperous and sane condition of the
bodies of a people. The South has so provided for the wants
of the negro that his numbers have doubled themselves as rap-
idly as those of the whites, with no accessions by immigration.
The census returns show that the South so cared for him that
28 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.
the percentage of congenital defects and diseases, these unfail-
ing revealers of a depressed physical condition, idioc}', blind-
ness, deafness, dumbness, hereditary scrofula, and such like
ills, was as small as among the most prosperous Northern
States. The South gave to her negro men, on an average, a half
pound of bacon and three pounds of breadstuffs per day, be-
sides his share in the products of his master's kitchen-garden,
dairy and orchard; and to the women and children at a rate
equally liberal. If, in some neighborhoods, the supply was
less bountiful than the above, there were a hundred fold more
in which it was even more abundant. The South gave ta every
negro, great and small, a pair of shoes every winter, and to the
laboring men an additional pair at harvest. She clothed them
all with a substantial suit of woolens every winter, an addition-
al suit of cotton or flax eacli summer, and tw-^ shirts and two
pair of socks per year, while the adults drew their hat and
blanket each. She furnished each negro family with a sepa-
rate cottage or cabin, and, during the severe weather, with
about one-third of a cord of wood per day, to keep up those lib-
eral fires on which his health and life so much depend. She
provided, universally, such relief for his sickness that every
case of serious disease was attended by a physician with nearly
the same promptitude and frequency as the cases of the plan-
ters' own ^ives and daughters; and in all the land never was
a negro fastened to his bed by illness but' he received the per-
sonal, sympathizing visits of some intelligent white person be-
sides; master, mistress or their agent, who never went to his
couch empty-handed. His dead universally received decent
and Christian burial, where the bereaved survivors were sooth-
ed by the oflQces of Christianity. The South so shielded the
negro against destitution, that from the Potomac to the Gulf,
not one negro pauper was ever seen, unless he were free, and
not one African poorhouse existed or was needed. Her system
secured for every slave, male or female, a legal claim upon the
whole property, income, and personal labor of his master, for a
comfortable maintenance during any season of infirmity
brought upon him by old age, the visitation of God. or his own
imprudence, however protracted that season might be: a claim
so sure and definite that it could be pursued by an action at law
MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. 29
upon the slave's behalf; a claim so universally enforced and ac
quiesced in, that its neglect, or the death of a helpless slave
through destitution, was as completely unknown among us as
cannibalism. The South met that claim, which the free labor-
ing men of other lands have so often had sorrowful occasion to
argue, amid pallid famine, and with the fearful logic of insur-
rections and bloodshed, the claim of "tlie right to labor," and
has met it so successfully that she has secured to every African
slave capable of labor, without even one exception among all
her millions, remunerative occupation, at all times, and amid
all financial convulsions and depressions of business. That is,
she has found at all times such occupation for all of them as
has procured for them, without excessive toil, a decent nminten-
ance during their active years, an adequate and unfailing pro-
vision for old age, a portion for their widows, and a rearing of
their children. The South has so far performed these duties
to the bodies of the Africans that no community of them havi^
ever, in a single instance, amid any war, or blight, or drouth,
or dearth, felt the tooth of famine on its vitals, or so much as
seen the wolf, destitution, at its door.
For tlie culture of the negro's mind and character, the
South has also done something. She has not, indeed, fallen in-
to the hallucination that the only processes of education are
those summed up in the arts of reading and writing — facts
which were not prevalent among those literary dictators of the
ancient world, the compatriots of Pericles and Plato — nor has
she deemed it a likely mode to communicate these useful arts
to the ebony youth, to gather three hundred of them into one
pandemonium, under a single overtasked ''school-marm" or
bald-pated negro, and dub the seething cauldron of noise, con-
fusion and "negro-gen gas,'' a "primary school.'' But thou-
sands and tens of thousands has she taught to read (and of-
fered the art to ten-fold more, who declined it from their own
indolence), through the gentle and faithful agency of cultivat-
ed young masters and mistresses, a process prohibited. I boldly
assert, quicunque vult by no law upon the statute-book of my
State, at least. But this tuition, extensive as it has been, is
the merest atom and mite, in the extensive culture which she
has given to the African race. She received them at the hands
80 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.
oi: British and Yanlvee slave nadei-s, besotted in their prime-
val jungles, for the spontaneous fruits of which they lived in
common. Slie taught the whole of tliem some rudiments of
civilization. She taught them all the English language, a gift
whieli, had they been introduced intj the Northern States as
free men, in numbers so large, they would not have received in
three centuries. She taught all of them some arts of useful la-
bor, and as large a portion of them as any other peasantry learn-
ed the mechanical arts. With the comparatively small excep-
tion of the negroes upan large estates, belonging to non-resi-
dent owners, the South has placed every negro bo^' and girl,
during his or her growth, under the forming influence of white
men and ladies, by whom tliey have been taught some little
tinctures of the cleanliness, the decencies, the chastity, the
truthfulness, the self-respect, so utterly alien to their former
savage condition, and a share of courtes}' and good breeding
which would not disgrace any civilized people. Of the young
negresses, who would otherwise have grown up the besotted
victims of brutal passions, the great majority have been, at
some stage of their training, introduced by the South to the
parlors and chambers of their women, from wham they have
learned to revere and imitate, to some degree, that grace and
purity, that sweet humanity and delicacy of sentiment which
glorify the Southern lady above all her sex; and under her
watchful and kindly eye. has her dark-skinned sister been
taught the agencies and domestic arts which make woman a
•blessing in her home. The boys and youths, by the same in-
fluences, have become the humble, yet affectionate, compan-
ions of their masters, and have imbibed some of their intelli-
gence and principle. Herein was the great educational work
of the South, potent and persuasive as it was simple. By her
system, every man and woman of the superior race, yea, every
child, was enlisted in the work of the culture of the inferior,
and the whole business of domestic life was converted, by inter-
est and affection alike, into a schooling of the mind and char-
acter.
This culture has been so far successful that the African
race, lately rude savages, was raised to such a grade that, ac-
cording to high military authority in the United States, they
Major gisneral Howard. 31
were flt to make armies as efficient as those recruited in lav
"great, free aud enlightened North"; and in the judgrment of a
powerful party in that country (a party which embraces the
major part of that particular corner which has the prescrip-
tive right of knowing everything), they have been made, under
Southern tutelage, fully equal to the rights and duties of voters
and rulers, in the most complicated of governments. Now,
fe'eling that it does not become a subject of that government,
one recently conquered by the great North, to dispute its dt'cfa
on these points, I shall of course assume that they are correct.
Here, then, is what the Soutli has done for the development of
the negro's mind.
Nor has our section neglected that noblest and highest in-
terest of all races, the spiritual interest of the negro. She has
diffused among the blacks a pure gospel. She gave him the
Christian Sabbath, and fortified the gift with laws and penal-
ties, capable of being executed in his behalf against his dwu
master — laws so efficacious that enforced Sabbath labor was
almost utterly unknown to him. She gave him a part in every
house of worship built throughout her border (for never have
I heard of one church in all these States where the slaves were
not admitted along with their masters), besides building more
tem})les for his exclusive use than the Christianity of the Nortli
has built for Pagans, in all Hiudostan and China together. She
has given him evangelical preaching, unmingied with the poi-
son of I'niversalism, Millerism, Socinianism, Mormonism, or
with the foreign and disastrous element of politics. Far nearly
all the church-members of tliis people are connected witli the
great orthodox and evangelical denominations; and having
been a preacher to Africans for twenty years, I have never yet
heard a sermon addressed to them, or heard of the man who
had heard it, in which the subject of abolition or pro-slavery
was obtruded on their attention by a Southern minister. In
one word, the South has so far cared for their souls as to bring
five hundred thousand of them into the full communion of the
church, thus making them at least outward and professed
Christians — a ratio as large as that prevailing among the whites
of the great. Christian North.
These facts concerning the work of the South for the
32 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.
slaves, I give without tlie fear of contradiction. The son of a
shiveholder, an owner of slaves by inheritance, reared and ed-
ucated among- tliem, laboring for them and their masters all
my professional life, I know whereof I affirm. Every intelli-
gent citizen of tlie .S3uth will substantiate these statements,
as within the limits of moderation, and as only a part of those
which might be made.
When I claim that the South did thus much for the Afrt-
cans, I am far from boasting. We ought to have done much
more. Instead of pjiuting to it with self-laudation, it becomes
us, with profound humility towards (lod, to confess our short-
comings towards our servants. He has been pleased, in His
sovereign and fearful dispensation, to lay upon us a grievous
atfiiction, and we know He is too just to do this except for our
sins. While I am as certain as the sure word of Scripture can
make me concerning any principle of social duty, that there
was nothing sinful in the relation of master and slave itself, I
can easily believe that our failure to fulfill some of the duties
of that righteous relation is among the sins for which God's
hand now makes us smart. And it does not become those who
are under His discipline to boast of their good works. No;
verily we have sinned; my argument is that you must do more
for the negro than we sinners of the South have done.
[ have written wittingly- the words, yov. must do it for
them. The South cannot. Your people have effectually dis-
abled them therefor. They have done so by taking away our
wealth. The South is almost utterly impoverished, and is able
to do little more than to keep destitution from her own doors.
But a more conclusive reason is the alienation which the armed
and clerical missionaries of the North have inculcated in the
breasts of these people, lately so atfectionate and contented.
The negroes have been diligently taught that their masters
were their enemies and oppressors, that their bondage was
wicked and destructive of their well-being, and especially that
tlie religious teachings of all Southern ministers were ''doc-
trines of devils," because they would not shout the shibboleth
of abolition. The consequence is that the black race will no
longer listen to the Southern i)eople, or be guided by them.
Take as evidence my own instance, which I cite precisely for
MAJOR OENKRaL HOWARD. 33
the reason that it is not in the least peculiar, but reflects the
conimou experience of all ministers and people here. Before
the advent of your armies, plantation meetings were held week-
ly in the ditferent quarters of the congregation, on Saturdays,
in working time, cheerfully surrendered by the masters for that
purpose, which brought religious instruction within two or
three miles of every house. They are now all at an end. Six
years ago my congregation pulled down the substantial house,
built by their fathers only thirry years before, with walls as
solid as living rocks, which was entirely adequate to hold the
whites, and replaced it by a larger. One prominent reason was
that it was not large enough to hold the servants also. They
constructed in the new house three hundred commodious sit-
tings exclusively for the blacks. Last Sabbath, under a bright
and cheerful sun, those sittings were occupied during public
worship by precisely three persons; and at the afternoon serv-
ice, held in a chapel-of-ease, primarily for the blacks, there was
not one present. Thus the North has prevented the South from
doing its former work for the good of the African; consequent-
ly it must make its account to do it all itself.
But while I assert this, I would bear my emphatic testi-
mony against the falsehood and injustice of the charge that
the Southern people wish to cast off and ruin the negro, in a
spirit of pique and revenge for his emancipation. That they
regard this measure as neither just nor wise, is perfectly true.
But they have promised to acquiesce in it as a condition of
peace; that promise they intend faithfully to keep; and they
universally regard slavery as finally at an end. There is noth-
ing more manifest than that the North, amid the flame and heat
of all its animosities, knows and feels that this people will not
be the one to break its new covenant, hard as its conditions
are; and that the freedom of the late slaves and the authority
wliich has dictated it are secured from attack by us. And I
boldly testify that this magnanimous people has not voluntarily
withdrawn Its humane Interest from the blacks; that it ear-
nestly desires their prosperity; that it wishes to give them em-
ployment and opportunity, and to co-operate in their mainten-
ance as far as possible; that they do not cast off the negroes,
but it is the negroes who cast them off. Yea, the people of
34 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.
the South are this day extending to tens of thousands of black
families a generous sympathy in the midst of their own heavy
losses and deep poverty, which we challenge the Christian
world to surpass in its splendid philanthropy: in that we still
refuse to cast off those families, although, by reason of the in-
cumbrance of old persons, sick, and little children, their pres-
ent labor is worse than worthless to us, and we know we shall
receive no future recompense in the labor of the children we
are thus rearing gratis for other men as independent of us in
future as we are of them. And this is done (oftentimes in spite
of a present requital of insolence, misconception, ingratitude
and a petty warfare of thefts and injuries) by Southern gentle-
men and ladies, who appropriate thereto a part of the avails of
their own personal labors, undertaken to procure subsistence
for their own children. And this is done, not in a few excep-
tional cases, but in a multitude of cases, in every neighbor-
hood of ever}' county, so that the numbers of destitute freed-
men under which the able hands of your Bureau now faint, are
not a tithe of those who are still maintained by the impover-
ished people of the South. And this is done simply because
humanity makes us unwilling to thrust out those for whose
happiness we have so long been accustomed to care into the
hardships of their new and untried future. And unless you
can expect this delicate sentiment to exhibit a permanence
which would be almost miraculous under the "wear and tear''
of our future poverty, I forewarn you that you must stand pre-
pared for a tenfold increase of your, present responsibilities,
when these families are committed to you. That tenfold bur-
den you must learn to bear successfully.
Having shown you the starting point of that career of
beneficence to the African, from which you are solenmly bound
to Grod and history to advance, I now return to strengthen the
already irresistible argument of that obligation. If the South,
with all its disadvantages, has done this modicum of good to
this poor people, the North, their present guardians, with their
vast advantages, must do far more. The South was the infer-
ior section (so the North told us) in number, in wealth, in prog-
ress, in intelligence, in education, in religion. The vSoutli (so
the North says) held the Africans under an anti(]uated, unright-
Major general Howard. ;^5
(>(>iis ;iud niiscliievous relation — that of domestic slavery. The
North now has them on the new footing, whioh is, of course,
precisely the right one. The South was their oppressor; the
North is their generous liberator. The South was hagridden
in all its energies for good (so we were instructed) by the "bar-
barism of slavery"; the North contains the most civilized, en-
lightened and etficient people on eavth. Now, if you do not
surpass our poor performances for the negro with this mighty
contrast in your favor, how mighty will be the just reproba-
tion which will be visited upon you by the common sentiment
of mankind and by the Lord of Hosts? If you do not suii)ass
our deeds as far as your jjower and greatness surpass ours,
how can you stand at His bar, even beside us sinners? He has
taught us that "a man is accepted according to that which he
hath, and not according to that which he hath not." To this
righteous rule we intend to liold you, as our successors in the
guardianship of the negro.
If there are any who endeavor to lull your energies in this
work, by saj'ing that the negro, being now a free man, must
take care of himself like other people; that he should be thrown
on his own resources, and that, if he does not provide for his
own well-being, he should be left to suffer, I beseech you, in
the behalf of humanity, of justice and of your own good name,
not to hearken to them. I ask you solemnly whether the freed-
men have an "even start" in the race for subsistence with the
other laboring men of the nation, marked as they are by dif-
ference of race and color, obstructed by stubborn prejudices,
and disqualified (as you hold) for the responsibilities of self-sup-
port, to some extent, by the evil effects of their recent bondage
upon their character? Is it fair, or right, or merciful to com-
pel him to enter the stadium, and leave him to this fierce com-
petition under these graA^e disadvantages? Again, no peasant-
ry under the sun was ever required or was ever able to sustain
themselves when connected with the soil by no tenure of any
form. Tender our system our slaves had the most permanent
and beneficial form of tenancy; for their master's lands were
bound to them by law for furnishing them homes, occupations
and subsistence during the whole continuance of the master's
tenure. But you have ended all this, and consigned four mil-
36 MAJOR GENERAL HO WAED
lions of people to a condition of homelessness. Will the Xorth
thus make gipsies of them, and then hold them responsible for
the ruin which is inevitable from such a condition?
But there is another argument equally weighty. By adopt-
ing the unfeeling policy of throwing the negro upon his own
resources, to sink or swim as he may, you run too great a risk
of verifying the most biMng reproaches and objections of your
enemies. They, in case of his failure, will argue thus: 'That
the great question in debate between the defenders of slavery
and the advocates of emancipation was whether the negro was
capable of self-control: that the former, who professed to be
more intimately acquainted with his character, denied that he
was capable of it. and solemnly warned you of the danger of
his ruin, if he was intrusted with his own direction, in this coun-
try, and that you, in insisting on the experiment in spite of
this warning, assumed the whole responsibility. Sir, if the
freedmen should perchance fail to swim successfully, that ar
gument would be too damaging to you and your people. You
cannot afford to venture upon this risk. You are compelled by
the interests of your own consistency and good name, to take
effectual care that the negro shall swim; and that better than
before. In the name of justice, I remonstrate against your
throwing him off in his present state, by the inexorable fact
that he was translated into it, neither by us, nor by himself,
but by you alone; for out of that fact proceeds an obligation
ux>on 3-0U. to make your experiment successful, which will
cleave to you even to the judgment day. And out of that fact
proceeds this farther obligation: that seeing you have persisted,
of your own free will, in making this experiment of his libera-
tion, you and your people are bound to bestow anything or ev-
. erything, and to do everything, except sin, to insure that it
shall be, as compared with his previous condition, a blessing
to him. For, if you were not willing to do all this, were you
not bound to let him alone? When the shipmaster urges lands-
men to embark in his ship, and venture the perils of the deep,
he thereby incurs an obligation, if a storm arises, to do every-
thing and risk everything, even to his own life, for the rescue
of his charge. If, then, you and your people should find that
it will require the labors of another million of busy hands, and
MAJOli GENERAL IIOWAKD. 37
the expenditure of three tliousand millions more of the national
wealth, to obviate the evils and dangers arising to the freedmen
from your experiment upon their previous condition: yea, if to
do this, it is necessary to make the care and maintenance of the
African the sole business and labor oif the whole mighty North,
you will be bound to do it at this cost.
And I beg you, sir, let no one vainly think to evade this
duty which they owe you in your charge, by saying that per-
haps even so profuse an expenditure as this, for the benefit of
the Africans, would fail of its object; because they hold that
making a prosperous career is one of those things like chewing
their own food, or repenting of their own sins, which people
must do for themselves, or else they are impossible to be done;
and that so no amount of help can make the freedmen pros-
perous as such, without the right putting forth of their own
spontaniety. For, do you not see that this plea surrenders you
into the hands of those bitter adversaries, the Pro-Slavery men?
Is this not the very thing they said? This was precisely their
argument to show that philanthropy required the Africans in
this country should be kept in a dependent condition. If your
section acquiesces in the failure oif your experiment of their
liberation on this ground, what will this be but the admission
of the daumiug charge that your measure is a blunder and a
crime, aggravated by the warning so emphatic, which your op-
ponents gave you. and to which you refused to listen?
T'ut I feel bound, as your zealous and faithful supporter in
your humane task, to give you one more caution. The objectors
who watch you with so severe an eye have even a darker sug-
gestion to make than the charge of headstrong rashness and
criminal mistake in your experiment of emancipation. They
are heard gloomily to insinuate that the ruin of the African
(which they so persistently assert must result from the change)
is not the blunder of the North, but the foreseen and intended
result! Are you aware of the existence of this frightful inuendo?
It is my duty to reveal it to you, that you may be put upon
your guard. These stern critics are heard darkly hinting that
they knov/ Northern statesmen and presses who now admit,
with a sardonic shrug, that the black man, deprived of the
benignant shield of domestic servitude, must of course parish
38 MAJOK GENERAL HOAVAED.
like tile red luau. These critics are heard iiiferriu«i- that the
true meaniuji" of Northern Republicanism and Free Soil is, thai
the white race must be free to shoulder the black race otf this
continent, and monopolize the sunny soil, which the God of na-
tions gave the latter as their heritaj^^e. They take a sort of grihi
pleasure in pointint>- to the dead infants, which, they say, usual-
ly marked the liberatinj^' cjurse of your armies through the
South, in displaying the destitution and mortality which, they
charge, are permitted in the vast settlements of freedmen un-
der your care; in insinuating the rumors of official returns of a
mortality already incurred in the Southwest, made to your gov-
ernment, so hideous that their suppression was a necessity;
and in relating how the jungles which are encroaching upon the
once smiling ''coasts" of the Mississippi, in Louisiana, already
enveioi)e the graves of half the black population in that State!
And the terrible inference from all this, which they intimate is,
that the great and powerful North only permits these disasters
because it intends them; that, not satisfied with the wide do-
main which I»rovidence has assigned to them, they now pretend
to liberate the slave whom they have seen too i)rosperous under
his domestic servitude, in order to destroy him, and grasp, in
addition, the soil which he has occupied.
Now, sir, it is incumbent on you, that the premises on
which, with so dangerous a plausibility, they ground this tre-
mendous charge, be effectually contradicted by happy and bene-
ficent results. You must refute this monstrous indictment, and
there is only one way to do it, by actually showing that you
conserve and bless the African rac(\ multiply their numbers,
and confirm their prosperity on the soil, more than we have
done. I repeat, the North must refute it thus. For, of course,
every Northern man. while indignantly denying and abhorring
it, admits (what is as plain as the sun at midday) that if the
charge were indeed true, it would convict his people of the
blackest public crime of the nineteenth century; a crime which
would be found to involve every aggravation and every ele-
ment of enormity which the nomenclature of ethics enables us
to describe. It would be the deliberate, calculated, cold-blood-
ed, selfish dedication of an innocent race of four millions to
annihilation; the murder, with malice prepence, of a nation!
MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. 39
not by the comparatively merciful process of the royal Hun,
whose maxim was, that ''thick grass is cut more easily than
thin," summary anassacre; but by the slowly eating cancer of
destitution, degradation, immorality, protracting the long
agony through two or three generations, thus multiplying the
victims who would be permitted lo be born iinly to sin, to suffer
and to perish; and insuring the everlasting perdition of the
soul, along with the body, by cunningly making their own vices
the executioners of the doom. It would include the blackest
guilt of treason being done under the deceitful mask of bene-
faction and by pretended liberators. The unrighteousness of
its motive would concur with its treachery to enhance its guilt
to the most stupendous height; for upon this Interpretation of
the purpose of the North, that motive would be, first to weaken
and disable its late adversary, the South, by destroying that
part of the people which was guilty of no sin against you, and
then, by this union of fraud and force, to seize and enjoy the
space which (rod gave them, and laws and constitution guar-
anteed. This, indeed, would be the picture which these ac-
cusers would then present of your splendid act, that you came
as a pretended friend and deliverer to the African, and while
he embraced you as his benefactor in all his simple i-onfidence
and joy, you thrust your sword through and through his heart,
in order to reach, with a flesh wound, the hated white man who
stood behind him, whom you could not otherwise reach. The
deed would receive an additional shade of blackness from every
reproach wliich the North has ever uttered against us for our
supposed oppression of the black man, from every profession of
your superior humanity toward him — from every assertion of
your superior civilization, light and rhristianity. For is it not
the righteous penalty of the servant who knew the will of his
Divine Master and did it not, to be beaten with many stripes?
If the North should, indeed, after all its claims of the traits
which exalt a people, have this most accursed deed fastened
upon it, then would be fulfilled against it that awful wai'uing
which the Son of (rod thundered against the most boastful o-f
tlie abuseis of His teachings: "Thou Capernaum, which art
exalted unto heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell." And on the
face of all the earth there has been no people since that doomed
40 MAJOK GENERAL HOWARD.
race who said: "His blood be upon us and our ebildren."
against whom the voice 3f impartial history has pronounced
deeper execrations than those which would await rou. Once
more, could such a crime be perpetrated and tlie dire judgments
of Grod fail to follow? Could your posterity h^pe ro escape the
fated tread of that divine retribution which hitherto has pur-
sued, with inevitable steps, the crimes of all the nations, from
the primeval East to tlie farthest West, with the double
scjurges of God?
Up. then! honorable Sir: Yea, I would exclaim through
yuu: Up: thou great. Christian North: cleanse thy skirts from
this foul charge; deliver thy children from this fierce indigna-
tion of heaven by the splendid liberality and success of your
etforts for the freedmen. Up and silence yjur accusers, by lift-
ing these Africans, with the strong hand of your beneficence,
to your own prosperity. Do not listen to these boding asser-
tors of the impossibility of the exploit: but so lavish your en-
lightened care and labor, and wealtli and love, as to compel im-
possibility itself.
The conclusions to which, I trust, you liave now come with
me, are briefly these, that the Xorth is bound by the l3gic of
events and of its own acts to become the chief guardian and
nui'se of the freedmen. That the South is. without its own
fault, disabled from doing more than a very little of this work
in future. That the North must d3 more for them than the
South ever did. and that in the proportion of her own superior-
ity over us. as that superiority is asserted by herself, and of
the advantage and justice which freedom possesses, according
to her, over slavery, that the Xartli cannot throw on the Afri-
can, unaided, the task of securing Ms own destiny, nor plead
that the attainment of social prosperity is a thing which can-
not be done for those who do not effect it for themselves; be-
cause these are just the p Dints which the South urged against
this change and which the North denied in insisting upon it,
and because you alone are the authors of the change. That
your section has thereby incurred a sacred obligation to bestow
on the African a well being higher than that of the state from
which you took him, no matter how much it may cost you. And
that, if the North fails in this, it confesses itself an enormous
criminal.
MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. 4l
Here, then, is your task, anil these are its conditions. There
is no more sincere aid wliich I can renih'r you in it than to ^ive
you a sober sketch of its real difficulties, and with this I shall
close.
One of 3'our difficulties is in the thriftlessness of the Afri-
cans themselves, and their want of intelligent foresight; a trait
which was caused, not by domestic servitude, but by the savage
condition from wliicli they were taken, and whicli we had i>ar-
tially corrected when they were taken out of our liands. (For
this is just the character which all savages exhibit, and espec-
ially those of the torrid climes, wliich know U) winter.) Our
system assigned an effectual remedy for the misc.hievous ef-
fects of this trait by making it the interest and duty of every
slave owner, and of all his adult childien and heirs to teach the
servant care and industry, and to guard against his thriftless-
ness. How you are to repair it under your system I, of course,
must not presume to dictate. I will only venture to say that
the correction of it must manifestly require a vast amount of
careful and patient tutelage of a multitude of hands. The cen-
sus returns of 1850 gave the South two hundred and eighty
thousand slave owners. Every one of these, with their wives,
many of their adult children and a multitude of overseers and
agents were interested teachers and guardians of the Afiican,
and many of them exceedingly diligent, and devoted all their
time to this work. Hence it is manifestly a very moderate es-
timate that your bureau must employ in the tutelage and guar-
dianship of these helpless people not less than a quarter of a
million of persons, and as the powerful motive of interest and
property is extinguished they must all be of better average
character than Southern slave owners to do their work as well
without that motive as these did with it. They must be all of
thorough integrity and intelligence.
Another of your difficulti(^s will be found in tlu' enormous
misconceptions which now fill the minds of the freednien. Tlie
mischief of one of these I have already indicated. It suited
your purposes, during the season of strife, diligently to teach
the negro that the white people of the South were their op-
pressors and enemies. Well, sir, they have learned your les-
son effectually, and will not speedily unlearn it. The conse-
42 MAJOR ge:n^eral Howard.
quence is that yon have thereby stripped yourself of the aid of
eight inillioiis of white people in your ardnons task, and these
the white people among whom the larger part of rlie freedmen
still live, among wham alone are to be found persons familiar
with African character, and among whom alone has there ever
been, or will there ever be an ingenuous personal affection for
individuals of that race. We have lost the ability to guide,
counsel, or instruct them.
The lai-ger part of them evidently confound liberty with li-
cense; and to them, liberty means living without earning a liv-
ing. Accustomed to see their masters performing little man-
ual labor (because they were necessarily occupied with the more
imp(>rtant, and often more arduous, labor of superintendence),
the freedmen assume that, to be free, is to be like their masters
in the former particular. They forget this little difference, that
a man cannot be usefully occupied in the labor of superintend-
ence, when he has nobody to superintend. Your first task, sir,
will be to convince them of this mistake, and, as I have proved,
you are bound to do this, without causing or iiermitting them
to suffer any painful conse(iuence of this error.
Your emissaries, armed and clerical, diligently taught
them that all the labor rendered by them in servitude was in-
compensated; and that every dollar of the proceeds of that la-
bor taken by the landholder, was a robbery from them. (A
good and certain home and livelihood at all times, sustenance
for their families, provision for their decrepitude, and main-
tenance for those they left behind them are, in the eyes of these
philosophers, no compensation at all, even f )r that labor which
is least skilled; because, I presume, they were ;so secure and
regular. And it is the established doctrine of the Abolition
school, that, while labor is entitled to wages, capital is not; in
accordance with which truth, those good people, as is well
known, always lend out their money for nothing, and pay away
the whole profits of their costly factories in wages to opera-
tives.) The consequence of this doctrine amang the freedmen
is this: They argue that all the property in the country being
the fruit of their unrequited labor, they may now help them-
selves to a fair return, wiienever and how^ever they can. Hence
a habit of what we old fashioned Southerners used to call
MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. 43
"theft," wliicli renders tbem of i-atliei- doubtful utility as liii-ed
laborers. You will have a great deal of trouble, sir, in cor-
recting this mistake; and again, I urge that j'ou are bound to
do this, without permitting or causing the freedmen to taste
any of its bitter consequences. For, I reason of this as of all
other misconceptions which they learned of you, that you are
solemnly bound not to let them suffer for what was your error.
What, will you punish them for believing you? It would be
a monstrous iniquity. You have tliis taslc then, gently to edu-
cate them out of this innocent mistake of stealing everything
which conies to their hand, by "moral suasion," without stocks,
whipping posts, jails, or any such harsh measures; and mean-
time, to generously repair all the evil consequences of those
thefts, to themselves or others, out of your own inexhaustible
pockets. Do you not think, sir, that to elTect this the "school-
master" will have to go "abroad" pretty considerably?
Thus one mischievous mistake chases another through
their ignorant minds, fostered by designing and malicious men;
and each one is a fatal obstacle in that path of sober industry
where alone their welfare is to be found. You have a great
task, sir, in causing them to unlearn these misconceptions. How
many embarrassing self-contradictions your people will have
to make in performing that task, it is not for me to indicate.
Another of your difficulties will be ifound in the necessity
for the displacement of a very large part of the black labor and
population in many districts of the South. My own county
may be taken as a fair example of the other parts of Virginia.
There were in it about eight thousand blacks. Our wisest men
of business are unanimous in declaring that under the new sys-
tem of hireling labor, the industrial pursuits of the county can-
not employ profitably more than one-third (some say not more
than one-fifth) of the former labor, at prices which will give sub-
sistence to the blacks. And their opinion is manifestly correct,
because every business man who is questioned, individually,
declares that he is constrained to reduce the labor employed by
him in some such ratio. Now, this fact is not cited by me to
argue from it the superior economy and productiveness of the
former system, in that it was able to employ, upon the same
soil, in a remunerative manner, three times or five times as
44 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD.
much hibor. (Aud that the empluymeut of it was remunerative
is proved beyond a cavil by the prosperity jf enipk)yers and la-
borers.) The only use I make of the fact is to show that two-
thirds of this black population should at once emigrate; or it
becomes unemployed, destitute, suffering and vicious. But the
local attachmeuts of the African are predominant; and that
spirit 3f adventure and enterprise, which carries the Virginian
to the front wave of every tide of pioneer population, is as for-
eign t(> his nature as frost is to his fervent native clime. The
temper of the negro is to do just what he has been used to, aud
nothing else. Here, sir. y )u have a problem which will tax
30ur ingenuity and f(»rce; how to displace two-thirds of the
half million of blacks in Mrginia to a new soil, when they do
not wish to go, have no capital, and are deficient in knowledge
and thrift; and tj do this without a result of widespread desti-
tution, domestic distress, disease and death.
But, perhaps, the greatest of your difficulties is the one
which has been hitherto least appreciated — the novelty of your
task. You, sir, are appointed to do whait no other mortal has
hitherto dDue successfully: to transmute four millions of slaves,
of an alien race and lower culture, all at once into citizens, with-
out allowing them to suffer or deteriorate on your hands. You
have no precedents to guide you. You cannot resort to the
pages of political history to find there the lights which may
show you your momentous duties. But there is no other guide
in political science. The machinery of maral causes, which
forms a political society', is too complex for any finite mind to
foresee, by its a priori speculations, what wheels tn^III be moved
b}' the spring which he touches. His only safe guide is the
experience of previous results under similar conditions. If he
attempts to act beyond this his action is, in the worst sense,
experiment; a blind guess, leading him by haphazard to un-
forseen results. In the sciences of material things, these ex-
periments have been useful and are legitimate. The philosopher
may properly deal thus with his metallic ore; he may venture
his unproved hypothesis concerning it; he may submit it to new
solvents, or acids, or fires; oftentimes he will find that his hy-
pothesis is false and leads to nothing; but sometimes he will
find that it is the occasion of stumbling upon the key to one of
Major genekal tiowARi). 45
nature's precious secrets. Now, his justiticatiou is tliat the ore
which lie eats with corrosive acids, or melts iu his furnace, suf-
fers nothing in this blundering process of questioning after new
truth. It has no nerves to be fretted under his handling; no
heart to be wrung; no sentient or intellectual destiny to be
perverted or destroyed under his mistakes, and, above all, no
immortal soul to be lost in his hands. But, in social science,
mere experiments are crimes; for the subjects of them are im-
mortal intelligences, endowed by God with a moral destiny,
with hearts to bleed under errors, and never-dying souls to be
lost. Fearful, then, is the responsibility of him who handles a
social revolution new in the history of man. He must march;
yet he cannot know" whether or not the path which he selects
will lead him over the bleeding hearts and ruined destinies of
his own charge. For such, the only adequate director is the
Spirit of God; and his best resort is prayer. To that resort I
sincerely and solemnly commend you; and close by subscribing
'myself. Your very obedient servant,
ROBERT L. DABNEY,
Sept. 12, 1865. Prince Edward County, Va.
ABSTRACTIONISTS.'
There are two ways o'f reasonino- about human affairs. One
is, to bring- measures to the test of fundamental principles, and
abide by their decision firmly. The other is, to inquire: "What
is the dictate of policy, of expediency, of present utility?"
There are two classes of minds in the world: the speculative, and
the practical. The former seeks to analyze its objects of
thought, to arrive at ultimate truths, and from those truths, to
deduce its practical conclusions. The other only considers prop-
ositions, in the light of their practical consequences as perceiv-
ed by itself. The former looks at general laws: the latter at im-
mediate results.
Now the latter class of people have applied to the former,
in these days of ours, a name, which is at least new in its pres-
ent sense: abstractionists. It is subject of joy, for the sake of
the credit of the Church, that this name was first invented
among politicians; but it is to be lamented, that the Church's
people have, to her disgrace, borrowed the name with its con-
temptuous meaning, from the politicians. An abstraction,
projxM-ly understood, means, a proposition considered as naked
and gvneral, stripped of all the accidental circumstances which
belong to 'a\\\ individual case under it. But the idea which
some of those seem to have, whO' use the word as a term of
contempt, is that it is just something* which is abstruse. Those
who know what they mean by it, if there are any such, probably
intend by abstractions, speculative principles, as opposed to
ipractical conclusions.
Among the many good results of popular government in
church and state, there is this unfortunate one: that its usages
tend to teach the governing minds to despise speculative
thought, and reason only from present expediency. It is the
popular mind, with which they have to deal: and that mostly in
the fugitive form of oral address, or the flimsy newspaper ar-
gument, where the whole result intended, is a momentary im-
1 Appeared in "Presbyterial Critic," June, 1855.
46
aSstraotionists. 4*7
pressioii. The minds addressed, are not trained to speculation,
and could not comprehend it. Hence, public men are tempted
to disuse it, till they become incapable of it themselves; and
all profundity and breadth of view are neglected, or even de-
spised, in reasoning of public affairs. Men aim only to catch
the public ear by some shallow argument of present expediency;
and brand all appeals to more fundamental truths "as abstrac-
tions,"— gossamer speculations unworthy to bind the strong
eommon sense of practical people. Thus, it is proposed, in fed-
eral politics, to institute some measure, the argument for which
is present utility. Its opponents object, that it is not within the
legitimate scope of the federal instirutions; and to institute it
would be a virtual breach of constitutional compacts. "Ah,"
says its advocate, "that is one of your 'abstractions.' Isn't the
measure a good one in its practical elTect? Then why not adopt
it?" Or, in church affairs; one good brother proposes, that the
Church shall take into its own official hand, the business of
education, and imbue it proper!}^ with the Christian element.
Another brother objects, that to educate is not tlie divinely ap-
pointed function of a church. "Why," asks the first, "don't you
admit that all education ought to be Christian education?"
"Oh, yes," says the respondent; "but it is the function of Chris-
tian parents; combining, if necessary; but as parents, not as
presbyters." "What of that?"' says the first; "our church schools
are very good things: very harmless things as yet: and where
is the difference between a combination of certain men as
Christian parents, to make and govern a certain sort of school,
and a combination of the :same men as presbyters to nuike the
same sort of school?" "There is the difference of the princijtle
involved," it is answered; "and it is never safe to admit a false
principle." "Pshaw," says the first; "that is nothing but one
of your 'abstractions.' "
The term is intended to be one of contempt. It is sujiposed
to describe something uncertain, vague, devious, sophisliral : as
opposed to that which is positive, sensible and rt^iiable. The
"abstractionist'' is represented as a man, fanciful and unrelia-
ble; who pursues the intangible nioonshine of metapliysical
ideas, until he and his followers "wander, in devious ma/.es
lost." But if any of the men who attempt abstractions arc vague
48 ABSTRACTIONISTS.
or sophistical, is it because they use abstract propos-itions ; or
because they misuse them? If men choose to be careless or dis-
honest in their thiuldug; — if they will mix or vary the terms
of their propositions, or commit any other logical errors, they
will be erroneous, however they may reason. And we assert, as
an offset to this reproach, that no truths can be general, except
those which are abstract: for by the very reason that concrete
propositions are concrete, they must be particular, or indivi-
dual; and therefore no deduction made from them, can have any
certainty when it is attempted to give it a general application.
The concrete is best for illustration, but for general reasoning
it is useless: and all gentlemen who are accustomed to boast,
that they are not '^abstractionists," thereby confess that their
arguments are only illustrations. If they wish to glorify their
logic therein, the}' are welcome.
But that any educated man should indulge in this slang of
the hustings and the demagogue, is derogatory to his own intel-
ligence, and his fraternity. For every man of information ought
to know-, that abstractions are the most practical things in the
world. His reading ought to remind him how directly the most
abstract truths have led on to the most practical conclusions;
how inev^itably they work themselves out into practical results,
and how uniformly the most practical truths depend for their
evidence on those which are abstract. There is no branch of
human science, which does not teem with illustrations of this.
Our anti-abstractionists would probably consider it rather a
shadowy question, if they were called to debate whether or not
Galvanism and Magnetism are generically distinct or like; two
somethings impalpable, invisible, imponderable, which we
hardly know whether to call substances or not. Yet, on the an-
swer to that question depended the invention of the Magnetic
Telegraph, with all its very practical results, in the regulating
of the prices of breadstuffs, the catching of fugitive rogues, and
the announcement of the end of dead emperors. Latent caloric
strikes us as a rather abstract thing: a something which no hu-
man nerve ever has, or ever will feel, and which the most deli-
cate thermometer does not reveal. And about this shadowy
something, a very shadowy proposition has been proved by your
contemptible abstractionists : namely, that in certain cases, sen-
AiisTkAtJTto^ts'rs. 4^1
sibie liejit becomiug latent, iucivasas elasticit.^v. This is tlie ab^
stractioii which revealed to mankind the secret steam engine;
and which now propells our boats, spins our cloths, grinds our
flour, saws our lumber, ploughs the ocean with our floating
palaces, whirls us across continents in the rail-cars, and some-
times scalds or cripples us by the score. A rather practical
thing, is this abstraction.
Or, let us take illustrations from the moral sciences. Ev-
ery well informed man ouglit to know that the abstract ques-
tion, whether general ideas are substances, c )nception, or
names, once almost threw p]uroi)e into fits, armed universities,
and even commonwealths against each other, and probably
cost John Huss his life. \\'hether what we call causation is a
real and necessary connexion, or merely an observed sequence
of events, is a very abstract question: but it makes all the dif-
ference between a God and no (lod: yea, all the difference be-
tween the blessings, civilization, wholesome restraints and hap-
piness of religion, and the license, vice, atrocity and despair of
Atheism. Indeed your thorough Atheist, is the only true and
ccmsistent anti-abstractionist. Jonathan Edwards' work on the
wall, is usually thought rather an abstract book, on a rather ab-
stract subject. Its great question is, whether volitions are cer-
tain, according to the prevalent bent of the dispositions, or self-
determining. But the answer to this abstract question decides
authoritatively between Calvinism and Pelagianism. Presby-
terians, we think, have found the latter quite a practical mat-
ter! Can human merit be imij^ited to another human being, in
(rod's government, as it is in man's? "A very useless, unprac-
tical (juestion," you say. "I don't care to speculate in such
unsubstantial merchandise.'' Well, from the aflirmative an-
swer to that question Thomas Aquinas deduced the grand sys-
tem of Papal Indulgences. Here is an abstraction aut of which
grew a good many important matters: such as a good many mil-
lions of crowns transferred out of the pockets of good Catho-
lics, into those of "his Holiness the Pope"; — the zeal of Luther
against Tetzel, and thence the Keformation — with English lib-
erty and through that, American: with a good many other very
practical affairs. But enough. The most abstract propositions
have often divided nations, and led to wars, revolutions, and
50 ABSTRACTIONISTS.
convulsions: just as that abstraction, ^'whether a man can
rif^htfully own as property, the labor of a fellow man without
his voluntary consent." now threatens our nation wdth fratrici-
dal and suicidal war. There is no practical truth, in the evi-
dence of which an abstract one is not concerned. There is no
abstract truth which may not lead, by lofjical necessity, to prac-
tical results. How unthinking, and iiinorant ought a man to be,
in order to utter an honest, sincere sneer against dealings and
dealers in abstractions? Very sinpid indeed. Again; such
sneers are always inconsistent. Every man is an abstractionist,
except perhaps the materialist — atheist, who does not believe
there is any God, because he has never seen Him, or that he has
any soul, because he cannot handle it. Those who contemptu-
ously disavow it, only do so' when the abstractions are against
them; and strenuously use similar abstractions, on their own
side. How literally has this been verified in federal politics?
In truth, no man can help it; for the foundation of every man's
right, theory, or project, whatever it may be, is on an abstract
principle. And the veriest red-R(^i)ubliran of them all, who
thinks he has trampled down every abstraction, still relies on
his own favorite ones, to sustain his radicalism. Says the
Agrarian: ''Here is my rich neighbor, who has more than he
can possibly use. or even waste. How much better to take
away a part, and give it to me. who need a little capital to en-
able me to be a producing citizen. You will thereby benefit
me, the state, and my rich nt^ghbor himself : for he is so rich
that it is an actual injury to him." You object, that the rights
of property are in the way; and that it is of more fundamental
importance to the state, that those rights should be protected,
and that every man should be certain of the rewards of his in-
dustry, than that property should be etiually distributed. These
■Ai-i' m his eyes, nothing but abstractions. Why should a citizen
be kei)t back from obvious and present advantage, by the goss-
amer threads of those abstract rights? So he helps himself
liberally to his neighbor's property, and thus becomes a man of
property himself. And now. lol he forthwith invokes those ab-
stract rights of property, to defend his new acquisitions against
other red-Republicans, as greedy as himself, but still poorer.
But the serious and lameniablc point about all this decry-
ABSTRACTIONISTS. 51
iii^ of abstractions is. that where it is intelligently and delib-
erately uttered, it is thoroughly profligate. What is it all, but
a demand that principle shall give way to expediency? All the
principles of morals, in their last analysis, are abstractions.
The distinction between right and wrong is an abstraction, as
pure and disembodied as was ever presented by metaphysics.
And in short, the difference between an honest man and a
scoundrel, is but this: that the former is governed by a general
principle, which is an abstraction, in opposition to the present
concrete prospect of utility; while the latter is governed by his
view of present expediency, in opposition to the general princi-
ple. What else do we mean by saying that a man is unprinci-
pled? In the eyes of such a man, the restraints of a constitu-
tion which he has sworn to support, are abstractions, whenever
they seem to oppose the present dictates of expediency. All
those broad and wise considerations, which show how much
more important is a consistent adherence to general principles,
than the gain of a temporary and partial advantage by their vio-
lation, are but abstractions. And with the same justice, though
with greater impiety, it rndght also be said, that the immutable
principles of eternal rectitude, to which flod coinpels all the
interests of the universe to bend, at whatever ooist of individual
misery, are abstractions. What, for instance, is the i)rinciple.
which constitutes the necessity for an atonement? What, ex-
cept that necessary connexion, which the unchangeable perfec-
tions of God have established between the abstract guilt of
sin, and the penalty? ''Now here is a penitent man,'' says the
Socinian; "a wondrous pious, proper man: he is never going to
sin any more: (the self-determining power 'Of his own will has
decided that.) Who will be the worse for his pardon? Why
should he go to perdition, poor fellow, for a mere abstraction?"
All this sneering has ever sounded mournfully in our ears,
as a revelation of the unscrupulousness of the age. And to be
called an abstractionist, has we confess, been always received
rather as a compliment, than a rei)roach. It puts us in ad-
mirably good company; — along v.ith all the profound thinkers,
and the stable, noble souls, whose brave motto has been ^'Obsta
principiis." And when the philosopliic historian shall come to
write, in future ages, the. hist orv of the Decline and Fall of the
52 ABSTRACTIONISMS.
Empire Republic, lie will mark it as the most giorioiis tnbute
to the public virtue of one school of our statesmen, that they
were branded by unthinking or unscrupubus adversaries, as
Abstractionists. And let none say, that in these words, we have
violated that delicate neutrality towards national parties, which
becomes a religious periodical. The honor of both the great
parties of the nation, equally approves and demands the senti-
ment. For the sneer would have seemed as profligate and
odious in the ears of a Hamilton or a Marshall, as in those of a
Madison or a Calhoun.
"But. is there not a style of reasoning, which calls itself
general and abstract, which is, in fact, unreliable, misty, and
deceptive? This," some will say. ''is what we mean by abstrac-
tions.'' Well, good reader, you express your meaning very un-
fortunately. When next you hear men using propositions,
which they suppose general, in a manner vague and sophistical,
we pray 3'ou, in the name of intelligence, sound lo^c. and sound
principle, do not express your dissent, by saying that they are
abstractions, say simply that they are untrue.
THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.'
If this phrase appear to auy reader paradoxical, a very lit-
tle reflection will convince him that it is only so in appearance.
For, the greatest organized wrongs which the civilized world
has seen perpetrated in modern times, upon the well-being of
mankind, have been committed under the amiable name of hu-
manity. Xo despotic government now avows the ruthless pur-
pose of self-aggrandizement and of the gratification of hatred
and the lust of power; but its pretense is always the good of
society', and the welfare of the governed. The wars of the ''Holy
Alliance," which drenched Europe in blood at the beginning of
this century were all undertaken nominally for the peace and
liberties of Europe. No demagogue confesses, in popular gov-
ernments, the greedy ambition or avarice which proves to be
his secret motive: but he seeks only the good of the "dear peo-
ple," while he betrays them into mischievous anarchy or legis-
lative atrocities.
The religious persecutions, which have made nominal Chris-
tianity the scourge of humanity, have all professed the same
kindly purpose. When the excellent St. Augustine first exerted
his influence and logic to make them respectable, he argued
against the Donalists, that, as the parent chastises a wayward
son to save him from the ruin of his vices; or as a physician
rouses the lethargic patient by pungent cataplasms, so the
church, the guardian of souls, might lovingly rescue her way-
ward children from the curse of heresy, by imprisonments,
fines and stripes. And this is the argument of persecution in
all ages. All the racks, the funeral pyres, the aiitos da fe with
which the Inquisition blackened Europe, were justified by this
plea of love. Men were slain with protracted and exquisite tor-
tures, out of mere humanity, and to save their beloved souls at
the expense of their sinful flesh. It was from the same amiable
impulse that Simon de Monfort went from the devout participa-
tion in the Lord's supper, to the storming and sack of Albigen-
1 Appeared in "Ttie Land We Love:' December, 1866. 53
54 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.
sian towns, and ilie butclicrv of tlicir women and children.
These enormities of a darker age are now as much deplored by
enlightened and liberal Catholics as by Protestants themselves
The crusades against the Moslems also, justified their incon-
ceivable barbarities, in part by a humane pretence: It was the
protection and assistance of Holy Palmers, in their pilgrimages
to the sacred places in Palestine, which moved the crusaders,
along with zeal for the honor of Christ's sepulchre.
Another instance is presented by the cobnial enterprises of
the Spaniards and I'ortugese in tropical America. In all these
voyages and wars, which entailed upon the feeble aborigines
the untold horrors of extermination, a devout and philanthropic
enthusiasm was an active cause. Columbus himself was as
much a missionary as a votary of science, in his life-long dreams
of discovery. He proposed to the King and Queen of Spain the
extension of the blessings of the gospel, as much as of their em-
pire, as the end of his projects; and wherever he and his suc-
cessors landed upon the soil of America, they set up the cross
alongside of the banner of Castile. Of the Spanish adventurers,
Prescott says: "Their courage was sullied with cruelty; the
cruelty that flowed equally — strange as it may seem — from their
avarice and their religion; religion as it was understood in that
age, the religion of the crusader. It was the convenient cloak
for a multitude of sins, which covered them even from himself.
The Castilian, too proud for hypocrisy, committed more cruel-
ties in the name of religion, than were ever practiced by the
pagan idolater or the fanatical Moslem. The burning of the
infidel was a sacrifice acceptable to heaven, and the conversion
of those w^ho survived, amply atoned for the foulest offenses.
It is a melancholy and mortifying consideration, that the most
ancompromlsing spirit of intolerance — the spirit of the Inquisi-
[or at home, and of the Crusader abroad — should have emanat-
ed from a religion which preached peace on earth, and good
will towards man!" So, the contrast between Pizarro and his
tw^o partners, for the conquest of Peru, begins by invoking in
the most solemn manner, the names of the ''Holy Trinity and
our Lady the Blessed Virgin.'' — "In the name of the Prince of
Peace," says Eobertson, "they ratified a contract, of which
plunder and bloodshed were the objects." Of the same tran-
1'IIE CRIIMES OF PlIILANTHltOPY. 5")
gaetion Prescott reinarks: "The invocation of heaven Vv'as na-
tural, where the object of the undertaking,^ was, in part, a re-
ligious one. Religion entered more or less into the theory, at
least, of the Spanish conquests in the new world." * « *
"It was indeed a fiery cross that was borne over the devoted
land, scathing and consuming it in its terrible progress; but it
was still the cross, the sign of man's salvation, the only sign by
which generations yet unborn were to be rescued from eternal
perdition."
Thus it would seem the piety of Christendom has projected
itself upon Asia and America as a flood of rapine and destruc-
tion. Nor can the Anglo-Saxon race of Protestants claim ad-
vantages over the Peninsular, in the results of their enterprises
in America, as to the aborigines. They crossed the ocean pro-
fessedly in pursuit of freedom, religious liberty and cirilizatiou.
The consequence of their appearance has been likewise the ex-
termination of the red man.
But the missions planted by ecclesiastics in tropical Amer-
ica presented a still more glaring perversion. Until the begin-
ning of this century, in some of these missions, military expe-
dirions were annually equipped by the holy fathers, against the
neighboring pagan tribes, piously termed cazas de las almas.
"hunts for souls," for the purpose of capturing as many per-
sons as they could, and subjecting them to a compulsory bap-
tism and training. These involuntar}- converts were then dis-
tributed among the families of the priests or the Christianized
Indians, to be trained by servitude to habits of industry and
morality. Thus, armed men were seen, in the name of human-
ity and mercy, assailing and burning towns, murdering help-
less families, and dragging the wretched survivors into bondage
with all the ferocity of the African slave-catcher.
When the cruelties of these various forms of religious fa-
naticism are considered, it is not allowable to account for them
by asserting the conscious hypocrisy of the perpetrators. From
the days of Saul of Tarsus until these, many a persecutor could
doubtless say, that they ''verily thought" they ought to do these
things. In many a scourge of humanity, the evidences of sin-
cerity have been unquestionable; and the general inteerity of
56 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.
character has served only to enforce the rigor of their deter-
mination.
In the instances which have been now cited, other pur-
poses haA'e been mixed with those of philanthro'py, and have
perhaps been thv main ones, whilc^ the humane designs were
secondary. liut yt4 more remarkable examples have occurred,
where the most cruel intlictions which have cursed mankind,
have sprung out of the express purpose to contmbute ta his wel-
fare; and where the very apostles of hummity have shown
themselves the most vindictive towards their fellow men. The
reader of history will recall to mind that the African slave
trade, with all its jierpetual intestine wars, its burnings, mas-
sacres and rapes, its chains and dungeons, and the horrors of
the "middle passage," originated in a compassionate plan of
the benevolent r>arthoIom(Mv Las ("asas, to relieve the Indians
of the Spanisli Islands from the burden of slavery. It was his
sympathy with their suftVrings, which caused him to invent this
expedient, of substituting the h.irdier Xt^gro under the yoke.
But the eminent instances of the crimes of philanthropy are
those O'f our own age. And among these, none stands higher in
this bad eminence tlian the ''reign of terror ' under the ascen-
dency of the French democrats, at the close of the last century.
The first revolution in France was especially the work of its
infidel, humauitaiian p]iiloso})liers; who taught the perfecti-
bility of human nature, th(^ natural I'igiits and e<iuality of man,
and the intrinsic injustice of all distinctions of rank; who traced
to these all the 'miseries of human society, and heralded tlie ei-a
of political equality as a second golden age. The motto of the
fiery democrats trained in their school was, liberty, equality^
fraternity. They boasted that their missi(Ui was to restore to
all orders of men, through the potency of these principles, that
universal happiness and harmony, plenty and love, of which
civilized societies had hitherto been cheated through the ma-
lignant cunning of priests and magistrates. Well, they over-
turned the throne, the nobility, the altar, the constitution; they
held in their hands the naked constituent elements o'f the com-
monwealth, to renijuld them as they listed, and to give the full-
est application to their principles; and the result was the Reign
of Terror. Marat became the organ of tlu' party of "liberty,
THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. 57
equality, and fraternity" through the press; and the ferocious
Danton through the tribune. The former through iiis newspa-
per, V Ami du Peuple, croaked his perpetual demands f jr blood,
like a ghoul, saying that it would never be well with the cause
of fraternity, until two hundred and sixty thousand heads fell
before it. This was the precise number of the human heca-
tombs, which this apostle of humanity demanded, ty satiate his
Moloch. Danton, on the other hand, mDunted the tribune,
which was the pulpit of this new gospel of philanthropy, to
thunder his demands for accelerating the guillotine, or author-
izing the September massacres. And it was ever in the name
of this amiable cause, that Robespierre, that incarnation jf
snaky cruelty, devoted :fresh thousands to murder. It is not
necessary to repeat the pictures of this seaison: the very term.
Reign of Terror, carries to every student of history a meaning
more descriptive of misery, cruelty, crime, and agony, than any
details could convey. The total of these sacrifices, as coolly giv-
en 'by the socialist Proudhomme, tells the tale better than rhet-
oric can do it; it was one million and twenty two thousand,
made up as f^dlows: of the guillotined in Paris, eighteen thou-
sand; victims slain or executed in Lyons, thirty-one thousand;
murdered by the ferocious Carrier at Nantes, thirty-two thou
sand; slain in battle, niasisacre, and execution, in miserable La
Vendee, nine hundred and forty thousand. Of this total, about
fort^-five thousand were women and children!
From that day to this, the Jacobin pai'ty have unfailingly
exhibited the same frightful comttination of philanthroiwc cant,
with a truculent ferocity of spirit. '"With their tongues they
have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips." And
this manifestation is, if possible, only the more conspicuous,
amidst the professed Christianity of Old and New England.
Do these pretended assertors of the rights of man organize
themselves as Chartist clubs? Then we see them wielding, as
their chosen instruments, against all who presume to question
the safety and wisdom of their plans, fiery invective and denun-
ciation, the incendiary's torch, and secret assault or assassina-
tion. Or does the Jacobin creed embody itself again in tlie
professed "Liberal Party" of Bright on the other side of the At-
lantic, and of his cousin-germans— the progressives — on this
side? Then the same contrast is displayed between the atrocity
.1^ THE CRIMffiS OF PHILANTHROPY.
of their spirit, and the humanity of theii' pretensions, by the
zest with which the latter have perpetrated, and the former
have apphiuded, the recent horrors in tbe hite Confederate
States. Humanity, in their mouths, means, favor to those who
assist their overweening and headstrong projects, with ruth-
less injustice and violent jjersecution, robbery, arson and mur-
der, to all who presume to doubt their propriety.
This recent type of Jacobinism illustrates the cruelty of
humanitarian philanthropy in our day, by two of its favorite
schemes, abolition of negro slavery, and the Peace Society. The
former, in the British colonies, has just glorified its zeal for hu-
man welfare, by converting a number of thousands of prosper-
ous fellow citizens into paupers and exiles, and a race of con-
tented, useful, and impro^dng peasantry, into savages; while it
is now, on this side of the ocean, '-in the full tide of successful
experiment," advancing towards the same benevolent result.
The former have been engaged for thirty years, in painting the
horrors of war, in describing with moving words, the prodigal
waste of human happiness and life which attends it, and in de-
nouncing even defensive war, as an invention of the devil, ut-
terly unworthy of a Christian nation. It is also the same men
usually, who declaim against the harshness and barbarity of
the capital punishments denounced against the chief crimes by
our criminal laws. Xow the plain people amongst us, who draw
their maxims of common sense from the Bible, have questioned,
from the first, the genuineness of this humanity; it appeared to
them a little queer, that those special advocates of forbearance,
were almost always peculiarly overbearing in their temper
towards dissentients, that they were very intolerant in their ad-
vocacy of tolerance, and very belligerent in the tone in which
they urged peace. The true animus of the party was correctly
foreshadowed by the spirit of one of its members, who appear-
ed, a quarter of a century ago, to advocate the Peace Principles,
at the bar of a dignified ecclesiasUcal assemblage in America,
and to enlist its support for them. In his bustling labors in the
lobby, he declared that Christianity forbade to the individual,
and to society, all violent resistance of injury; that to retort the
intended suffering on the aggressor was inconsistent with true
humanity: and that all which was necessary to disarm assault,
was, for everybody to practice a determined passivity and non-
THE CHIMES OF PHILA NTFIROPY. 59
resisting love. The members of the body which he addressed
were then characterized by a sturdy, old-fashioned sense, for
which it has unfortunarely not been since so causpicuons. Thev
attempted to induce the ardent man to bring Ids princiijles lome
to his own person, in such a case as the following: "Suppose
that some son of Belial should attack you without provocation,
in the absence of all legal protection, and with evident purpose
of injury to life or limb: what would you do?" ''I should de-
clare my purpose of non-resistance," he replied, "and appeal
with confidence to his conscience. It is the sight of resistance,
which gives resolution to the rising impulses of aggression; a
thoroughly peaceful attitude will surely awaken the better na-
ture of an assailant, and make him relent, before he strikes."
"Yea, but," said they, ''there are men in whom conscience and
the better nature are effectually seared, who would only be en-
couraged by the pi'ospect of non-resistance." "Still," answered
he, ''I would retain my passive attitude, and display the majesty
of meekness, so that it would be impossible for him actually to
strike." And these boastful words he uttered with an air of
angry assumption, as foreign from his professed meekness as it
was evidently adapted to provoke assault. The next day, the
ecclesiastical body agreed, out of respect for the cause of hu-
manity which he professed to advocate, to hear his views. He
urged them with much warmth and self-confidence, to adopt
resolutions committing themselves to his theory; and when the
O'bjections of sober good sense were urged, flew into a furious
passion, deno-unced his opponent.:^, and flung himself out of tlie
house in true fighting temper.
This incident gives a correct type of the combined ignor-
ance of their own hearts and of other men's, and errors of rea-
soning, 'by which this sect is infested. And it foreshadowed pre-
cisely, the fiendish temper with which they have themselves met
the shock of real resistance. When they found a people who
begged to be excused from the intrusions of their unauthorized
meddling, and the propagation of their pet schemes of philan-
thropy, these peace-society men, who denounced even defen.sive
war an inhuman crime; who — shuddered, sweet souls! — at the
sight of a drop of the criminal aggressor's blood, and preferred
that it should be spared even at the cost of the blood of the in-
nocent; who were busy sending committees to the Czar as the
00 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.
head of the first military monarchy of Europe, to teach him
how wicked bayonets were, and remonstrating with the King of
Dahomey against his royal slave-hunts; these opponents of cap-
ital punishments, who, more merciful than the "Father of Mer-
cies," declared that it was quite cruel that he who sheds man's
blo3d should have his blood shed by m;in; these superfine sen-
timentalists, paused in their sanctimonious pastimes, and, al-
most to a man, passionately joined the clamor of the party, who
demanded the extermination of their fellow citizens, for the
high crimes of daring to have opimions of their own, and as-
serting their own prescriptive rights. It was precisely from
this quarter that the loudest howl for plunder, murder, fam-
ine and conflagration came! Abundant proof this, that the I'ul-
ing motive of such philanthropy is not love, but an intensely
selfish love of power, mental conceit, and hunger for applause.
This phenomenon is as curious as it is mortifAing to the
true friend of humanity. Hence the explanation of it is inter-
esting, and, if it can be accomplished, profitable to all such.
An attempt will be made towards the explanation, by setting
worldly philanthropy in contrast with true Christianity. Al-
though the former is perpetually borrowing the name and lan-
guage of the latter, it will appear that they are contrasted in
their principles, and the principles of godliness will help to ex-
plain those of the counterfeit.
Philanthropy proposes as its end, advantage to man.
Christianity declares that man's chief end is to glorify God, and
enjoy Him forever. Its doctrine is that "(^lod hath made all
things for Himself; yea, even the wicked also for the day of
evil''; that "of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all
things; to whom be glory for ever and ever." Its one precept
is: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and
soul, and mind, and strength; and thy nenghbor as thyself."
It is very true that the humanitarians, clamorously reject
this great proposition as an odious dogma. Just here, then,
they and God join issue. They say that since disinterestedness
is the property of every virtuous act, and selfishness is the hate-
ful root of vice, in all other beings, it would be immoral in God,
thus to propose Himself as His own supreme end, and to arro-
gate to Himself the services of all creatures, exhausting their
well-being upon Himself. They urge that this would be selfish-
tJtE CRiMfiS Ot* l*HlLA^THttOt»y. 6l
ness more enoiinous than that of sinful men, just as its claims
are more vast. They exclaim that this scheme makes God the
great egotist of the universe. On the conti-ary, they display tlieir
own scheme in enviable contrast for its disintererstedness, as
making the welfare of our fellow men the chief end.
These cavils against the Christian law assume that it is in-
trinsically wrong for a being to direct his aims to liis own well-
being. But this is not true. There is a sense in which self-love
is lawful, even for a creature; yea, the absence of it may be
positive sin. There is another reason why the selfishness of
fallen man is criminal : It is because a question of prior right
intervenes. Our Creator puts in claims to the fruits of our ex-
istence, which are superior to all others; and therefore it is sin
to be supremely selfish, because it robs our Maker of that which
we received of Him. But God is indebted to none for His ex-
istence and powers. He alone is eternal, uncaused, and inde-
pendent. Obviously then, it is invalid to reason that, because,
in a creature, supreme egotism would be an odious crime, there-
fore it would be a vice in the uncreated God. That regard for
one's own well-being which, even in the creature, may be a
proper subordinate end, may be in the Creator a most righteous
supreme end.
But Christianity can defend itself with more positive ar-
guments upon this point. God, being immutable, is ever actuat-
ed by the same motives. But when His eternal purpose of crea-
tion and providence subsisted in His mind, "before He had
made the highest part of the dust of the earth," or laid the
foundations of the heavens. He must have been self-moved there-
to; for the irrefragable reason, that nothing else existed besides
Himself, to be a motive. Is it said that creatures, the future
recipients of His beneficence, were present in thought, and were
the motives of His pui'pose? The reply is at hand, that they
existed as yet, onl}^ in His purpose; which purpose was the ex-
pression of His own subjective desire and impulse alone, seeing
nothing but Himself existed. Hence the very purpose to create
creatures to be the recijnents of His bounty, was simply the re-
sult of self-gratification, because the perfections of nature
thereby indulged were infinitely benignant. But whatever was
God's motive in the earliest eternity, is His motive still; for He
is without 'S'ariableness, or shadow of turning."
62 THK CK1M;ES of rillLANTilliOPY.
When it is remembered that we are creatures, it is easily
concluded, that our highest duty is to God. He is the author of
our existence, our powers, ^ur happiness, and supporter of our
nature. He is our proprietor, in a sense so high that all other
forms of ownership almost vanish away, when set beside God's.
He is, moreover, by His own perfections, the pr^perest object
of all reverence, homage, and suitable service. Ko that, mani-
festly, it is the highest virtue in the creature, that he should
offer to God the supreme tribute of his being and service. But
if it is obligatory on the creature to offer this, it cannot be
wrong in God to accept it.
Hence, we repeat, God's most proper ultimate end, in all
His creation and government, is the gratification of His own
adorable perfections in His acting. And the creature's highest
duty is nor chiefly to seek his own good, or that of his fellow-
creatures; but the glory of God. He is the center, in whom
originated all beings, and to whom all should tend. His will
and glory is the keystone of the whole moral order of the uni-
verse. As it was the gratification of His infinite activity which
originated all creature existences, with all their powers of do-
ing and enjoying, so it is His self-prompted desire to diffuse His
infinite beneficence, which is the spring of all the well-being in
the universe. And here is the conclusive answer to the cavil
which we have been discussing: How can it be selfishness in
God to make the gratification of His own nature His supreme
law. where that nature is infinitely unselfish and benevolent?
In this light, the objection is seen to be of a piece with that
w'retched philosophizing which argues, that, because the losing
mother, the sympathizing benefactor, are actuated by their own
subjective inipuls(\ in succoring the objects of their kindness,
and find pleasure in the act. therefore ir is not disinterested.
Common sense, as true philosophy, replies: aye, but is not the
pleasure itself a. pleasure in disinterestedness? What higher
definition of a disinterested nature can be given, than to say
that its most instinctive pleasure is in doing good?
Thus, as God's own most suitable end is the satisfaction of
His own excellent perfections; s:) the creature's chief end is to
glorify and enjoy Him. This benevolent (Jod has, of course,
given the duties of benevolence to man a large place in the law
which he has enacted for men; but even in our freest acts of
THE CKIMKS OF PHILAiSTHnopy. 63
beneficence to oiu- fellows, we are required to have a reference
siipreiuely to Him whose creariu-es they are. Love to oiir neigh-
bor is to be a corollary from love to our God. We are chiefly to
seek His glory in their good, as in our own; and these are al-
ways in complete haraiDny. Hence it follows that whenever
man makes his own. or Ms fellows' good his diief end, he neces-
sarily comes short of that good; and the only way to gain it, is
to seek the higher eijd. Nor is there a paradox, when we thus
say, that in order that man may truly attain his own well-being,
he must truly prefer something else to it. Is it not a parallel,
and an admitted truth, to say, that it is only when the virtuous
man ])refers some better end than applause, in his actions, that
they are truly virtuous and deserving of applause? An instruc-
tive instance of this grear law of our well-being is found by
every one in common life. Who has not experienced this: that
the days and the efforts which have been especially devoted to
our own enjoyment, have usually disappointed us of enjoyment,
while the days, which we devote primaiily to duty, are thicldy
strewn with wayside flowers of unexpected pleasure?
Christian philanthropy derives its efficiency, no less than
its purity, from this, that it all flows froaii the Christian's love
of liis (rod. He is an object, who never disappoints us, who
never changes nor forgets; who never shows Himself forgetful
or neglectful of our affectionate service; who never disgusts our
efforts by unworthiness; and who has pledged the most gen-
erous reward to every true act of lunnanity. But if we make
man our chief end. he usually shews himself, soon, unworthy
to be our end. He alienates our love; he disgusts us by the
follies and crimes which cruelly counteract our efforts for his
good; he renders us indignant by his ingratitude. Such an idol
as this can never animate us with a devotion, which will rise
to the pure and enduring self-sacrifice of Christian charity.
Hence, if for no worse reason, worldly philanthropy is ever fee-
ble, unsteady, evanescent.
But it is time to pursue, in turn, this part of the contrast.
The latter si-heme proposes as our most proper and virtuous
end, not (Jod's glory; (this would be, say they, to make God the
infinite egotist) but man's good. Advantage to man is its high-
est aim. And this, the humanitarian claims, is true disinter-
estedness. 'Y:\\\^ forbids titHisliuess as the ruling motive to man,
H t^D cMMeS oil PHlLANTIil?Ol»V.
as it disclaims it for Grod. (Might they not as well say at once
forbids it to God, also; and thus disclose their real impiety?)
This, therefore, they urge, is the true, the morally beautiful and
amiable theory of life.
Let us see. By what logic can it be justly denied that
whatever is made our highest ultimate end is practically made
our God? It is nothing to the purpose that names and titles
are politely exchanged, and man is still called the creature, and
Jehovah the God. Virtually, the aggregate of humanity is
made our true divinity, by being made our moral end; and Je-
hovah is only retained (if retained at all) as a sort of omnipo-
tent conveniency and Servitor to this creature-God. Further,
this result is immediately seen to be involved; that, inasmuch
as the philanthropist is himself a part of this aggregate human-
ity, "by nature equal" to any other part, he is a part of his own
God! He liimself is, in part at least, his own supreme end! Is
there no inkling of a supreme egotism here?
But now, if humanity is our supreme end, and if this hu-
manity is as truly embodied in one individual of the race, as
in all, and if each individual is "by nature equal"; by what
valid argument shall that man be refuted in the interests of
philanthropy, who shall choose to say, that he recognizes in
that humanity embodied in himself, his own nearest, and most
attainable end? He may plausibly' add, tliat nature herself
sanctions this conclusion, by the powerful and instinctive princi-
ple of self-love which she has implanted; and yet more forcibly,
that since man's finite powers can only serve this aggregate
humianity, by serving some individual or indi\-iduals within it,
and efforts directed equally to the whole must be wholly nuga-
tory; and since nature has given to each man more efficient
means to influence his own destiny than that of any other man,
and more direct responsibility therefor, it is ob^ious that his
truest virtue will be to seek his own personal good, in prefer-
ence to that of any, or of all others? Such is precisely the
process, stated with analytic precision, which passes in an in-
volved and semi-conscious form, through the minds of myriads
af the children of this world, determining them to the supreme
indulgence of selfishness. Is not this but an expansion of the
process by which Hobbes, that "Leviathan" of infidel philoso-
The crimes of philanthropy. 65
phers, concluded, thiu the normal state of man was a contest of
each individual's supreme self-love against each other's?
And now, by what argument shall it be refuted, from the
humanitarian premises? Will men attempt it, by adopting the
scheme of Jonathan Edwards, which defined virtue as "love to
being in general,"' and required the first love to be given to the
greatest aggregate of being? Will they say that one should
prefer the good of mankind to his own, because the race offers
a larger aggregate of humanity than the individual? This will
hardly be ventured at this day, after the extravagant deduc-
tions of Godwin's Political Justice have displayed the absur-
dity of the theory. But besides, since the devil and Ids angels
are exceedingly numerous, and creatures majestic in natural
endowments compared with man. it is probable that they pre-
sent a greater aggregate of being than mankind; whence it
would follow, that we are morally bound to prefer the welfare
of demons to that of men. Shall the theory be amended, then,
by saying that it is the largest aggregate of virtuous being, only,
which claims our preference, and first love? Then, first, suffer-
ing humanity would share least; because ours is a guilty and
depraved race; and usually, men's miseries (and so their need
of philanthropic aid) are in proportion to their sins. And sec-
(uid: since God presents immeasurably the largest aggregate of
virtuous being, this leads ns back to God as our supreme end;
l)recisely the result which the humanitarian desires to shun.
Or will the refutation of inordinate selfishness be sought
from the more harmless theory of Jouffroy; that, as the human
i-eason, educated by experience, compares the instinctive de-
sires of its fellow men for their personal good, with its own, it
recognizes their eqtiality, and generalizes the law of the golden
rule, as the proper moral order of the whole? The ready answer
is, that if this is the moral order, then it is recognized by the
■pure reason as the obligatory order. But obligation implies an
obligator; so that, by this process again, we are led back to God;
and our virtue is made to consist in conformity to his supreme
will. But,. if the moral is rightfully the dominant faculty in
man, does not this also make God our supreme end?
We reaffirm the charge, that on humanitarian grounds, an
absolute selfishness is a logical conclusion; so that the boast of
disinterestedness which tliey make, is found hollow; and the
66 THE CRIMES OF PHIL AJS' THRO PY.
reproach they attempt to cast upon Christianity is retorted up-
on themselves. It is a isigniflcant confirmation of this charge,
that tliis egotistical conclusion has been expressly avowed by
one school among those most subtile of anti-Christian philoso-
phers, the G-erman Idealists. This party, asserting that the
whole materials of human thought are to be found in the data
of our consciousness alone, then declare, that consciousness
gives us naught but our own ideas, that what we delusively call
the objective sources of our sensations and perceptions, are
nothing more than the necessary limitations of our own thought
and feeling. Thus no evidence remains for the existence of an
'Outer world of either mind or spirit distinct from the conscious
self; and the only universe Which remains is the something
which thinks. Self, God, the world, are reduced to one; and
that one is not a personal being, but an eternal impersonal pow-
er of thought. "Now," says the German Pantheist, in the last
refinements of his frightful theory; ''since I, God, humanity,
are one, let either God or humanity be the proper end of exist-
ence, since these are only developed consciously to me in my-
self, self is the nearest and properest object to receive this su-
I)reme homage; and absolute self-gratification is my highest ra-
tional end. Whatever I happen to prefer is to me, the truest
and chiefest good; whatever I happen to will, is the highest
right."
Hence the reflecting man need not 'be surprised to find these
humanitarians, who set out with the proudest boasts of benevo-
lence,' end with the most engrossing selfishness. The highest
professors of this creed have ever been the most cruel of men.
The inipotency of this system for good is farther explained
by comparison with another law of Christian benevolence. As
the latter is founded on the love of God, for its motive, and
looks to a future recompense for its personal reward, so it re-
quires the Christian who "would go about doing good," to re
semble his Saviour in his spirit of self-sacrifice. Says the Apos-
tle John: "Hereby perceive we the love (of God) because He
laid down His life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives
for the brethren"— and Paul, suffering for God's people, "filled
up that which was behind of the afflictions of Christ, in his
flesh for His body's sake, which is the church." It is true that
to purchase atoning merit, or make satisfaction to Divine jus-
ITIE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. 67
tice for others' guilt is a liijj;li pivrojijative, iu which the suti'er-
iiig:s of the Son of (lad must be forever unapproachable. But
in the lower sense, there is a true analogy between the work
of the ''Man of Sorrows," when he "bare our grief, and carried
our sorrows," and the beneficence of his followers. In all their
efforts to relieve human isuffering Christians must suffer vicar-
iously: they can only lift olf the burden of a fellow man, by
bearing a part of it themselves. Their philanthro])ic ministry is
destined to be, like the humiliation of their Redeemer, essen-
tially a. season of trial; although clieered by not a few of those
glimpses of solace drawn by hope from "the gloi-y that should
follow," which caused Christ, in the midst of His toils to "re-
joice in spirit." The glory and blessedness are chietiy future,
and are with (rod. Now these are the conditions of a life of
true philanthropy; and the Christian's faith arms him with
forces which enable him to fulfill them. But not so the phil-
anthropy of the humanitarian. Its good element is nothing more
than the natural law of sympathy. As this word indicates, this
reflected emotion shares the pain by which it is excited; but the
effort to relieve that pain is also succeeded by an instinctive
j)leasure, which in man's imperfect heart is never wholly dis-
interested, but involves some elements of iself-love, and appe-
tite for applause. So it appears that the calculated end of all
such acts of beneficence is this personal pleasure. Does one
say, that sympathy also acts by an instinctive and involuntary
impulse? True; but can an uncalculating instinct be relied on.
to produce and regulate a systematic life of benevolence? Nay
verily — man will never be nerved to the habitual, sustained en-
durance of suffering, by an impulse to personal pleasure: it is
contradiction.
One other fact remains to be mentioned, which the humani-
tarian studiously ignores, but which the Bi'ble asserts. None
but God can truly elevate fallen and sutfering humanity. Death,
and all the ills which are its foretastes, caime 'by sin; and sin
reigns in human hearts, with a dominion which nothing but oin-
nipotent power can break. All that human love can do is to
labor with God. as humble instruments, looking and praying
that He may give "the preparation of the heart," and lift \\\i the
sufferers by a true and permanent restoration. Moreover, if our
toils are a failure as to their objects, by reason of the withhold-
68 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.
ing of this sovereign agency, they cannot be a failure as to God's
glory and our recompense. These are sure, whether the sufferer
rise or sink, if our efforts are made in iove and faith. But now,
it is manifest from this great truth, as it is shown by actual ex-
perience, Xh^lfailure must be the result of all unbelieving phil-
anthropy, in the end. Its objects refuse to be rescued thorough-
ly; or they sink again. In asserting this, we take our stand up-
on the field of history, and boldly ask: where is the human de-
vice for the amelioration of man's sin and misery, which has
not terminated, sooner or later, in failure? Where is the form
of liberal government, the moral reform society, the temper-
ance society, the agency of civilization, which has accomplished
its work, and preserved it? But when this worldly philanthropy
fails, as fail it must, what is to solace' its mortification, its dis-
appointed self-love, its indignation at the unworthiness of its
objects?
Another application of the fact of human depravity re^
mains; it affects the philanthropists themselves, as well as their
!>bjects. Their justice, benevolence, and sympathy are imper-
fect fragments amidst the ruins of their fallen nature. These
ruins, none but God can reconstruct; and this He does through
the grace revealed in Christianity. The discussion has hither-
to 'been conducted upon the assumption claimed by the human-
itarians, that the motives prompting their intervention were in-
nocent; and all that has been hitherto urged is their insuffi-
ciency. But this is not the whole of the argument. God's in-
fallible truth declares that all men, the philanthropists and the
sufferers, the pliilosophers and their pupils, are fallen creatures;
that true righteousness is overpowered in them by sin, that the
partial good impulses which remain as the reliques of paradise
are inferior and weak, and that the various elements of selfish-
ness are in the ascendant in every unregenerate will. Partial
impulses of social affection, of generosity, of sympathy, of hon-
or, illuminate in different degrees the natures of these men;
and far be it from us to deny their sincerity, but they are not
in the permanent ascendant. Sin is the ruler and tyrant of all
natural hearts. Now, if these things are indeed so, and the hu-
manitarians obstinately refuse to admit them, their blindness
to the nature of their own motives only aggravates their reck-
lessness, and the danger of mischief. Is their intervention for
THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. 69
tlieir suffering fellow men prompted by genuine sympatln'? Let
it be admitted; but this principle is unstable; and so surely as
they are men, the other principles, love of power, iDve of ap-
plause, conceit, pride, ambition, self-righteousness, or some of
them, are mingled in some ratio, in every beneficent action. Let
the unworthinetss or ingratitude of the objects, or mortifica-
tion of failure, or opposition concerning the methods of benevo
lence, supervene, and how easily, how naturally, do the move-
ments of philanthropy slide into those of the malignant emo-
tions. Thus is generated the monster, fanaticism; in which all
that remains of the beneficent purpose is a pretext, to blind the
mind of the fanatic to the true nature of his emotions, and to
sanctify to himself all their enormities. The cold and glittering
enthusiasm of the imagination is coimbined with the malignant
passions of self-displaj^, lust of power, and hatred; and the
whole, borrowing the sacred name of philanthropy, goes forth
upon its destroying career.
The true character of this fanaticism may be disclosed by
easy tests. If love were tlie true spring of its pretended zeal,
tliat benignant emotion ought to dis])lay itself consistently, in
the general life, and especially in the daily practiced duties of
home and family, which should hold the first place in every
healthy conscience. But when the private life of your fiery de-
claimer against social wrongs is examined, it is usually found
to be characterized by domestic harshness, injustice and selfish-
ness; his wife, his children, his servj'.nts, feel little of that
abounding beneficence which he delights to ventilate abroad
concerning the wrongs of the distant and unknown. On the
other hand, the men of practical kindliness, who actualh^ exer-
cise a generous and self-denying benevolence, in that home-
s[)here, where benevolence is most practicable, are seldom found
among these self-constituted assertors of the wrongs of human-
ity. Moreover, let any individual among the pretended objects
of his sympathy be brought to their own door, and thrown upon
this actual help; he will be very likely to find it a most unsub-
stantial dei)endence. The fiery philan-fhropist will speedily
reach him that while he is very willing to gratify Ms malice by
scolding his opponents, or his pride by parading his benevo-
lence, he has little thought of sacrificing either his own money
or convenience for the sufferer.
70 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.
F'rom this pisition, the mischievous and corniptiiij? effects
of preached crusades against organized siocial systems which
are supposed to be evil, receives a facile explanation. Chris-
tianity and its true ministers make it their main business to ad-
dress the individual; and their topics are his own duties and
sins. They separate him, they tell him his spiritual necessities;
they say: "Thi»u art the man"; they tfMcli him to make his own
spiritual amendment his chief care. Thus, by sanctifying each
individual, human society is effectually regenerated; and or-
ganic evils easily disappear. Hut when once the pulpit is per-
verted to declaim habitually against the public sins of com-
munities, and to agitate for their reform, the individual is en-
couraged to loise sight of his own errors (the only ones he is re-
sponsible for, or able to reform), and to occupy himself with the
wrong-doings of others. But these are of course, painted in
constant contrast with his own rectitude; so that this preaching,
in.stead of inculcating humility and sanctity, is nothing but a
aninistratian of spiritual pride, arrogance, and hatred. And
hence its popularity. It is much more agreeable to an evil
heart, to be reniind(Hl of its own superior excellence, and to be
invited to the work of reviling its opponents, than to be sum-
moned to the toils of self-discipline, the mortifications of per-
sonal contrition, and the crucifixion of carnal affections.
REPLYOFR. LDABNEY, I). D,
To the Letter of General Joseph E. Johnston, Criticising
Dr. Dabney's Narrative of the First Battle
of Manassas.
To the Editors of Richmond Dispatch, June 21, 1861 .
(Tentleiiieii: Accident recently brought to my attention the
remarks published in your paper .of March 24:th by General Jo-
seph E. Johnston upon the narration of the part borne by the
Stonewall brigade in the battle of Manassas contained in niij
life of (leneral T. J. Jackson. So far as these corrections have
revealed error in my statements, I receive them thankfully, and
shall not fail to employ them, as soon as it is in w\\ power, for
the perfecting of the accuracy of my narration. The high posi-
tion and services of General Johnston, which none honor and
appreciate more ci)rdially than myself, do indeed render it al-
most a presumptuous attempt to question the correctness of any
of his representations, especially when made by one in my ob-
scure place. But even to such a one the reputation for integrity
of purpose, at least, is very jtrecious. I therefore beg leave to
exhibit in your columns some of the testimonies by which I sup-
pose myself to be sustained in the statements made. 1 hope ev-
ery reader will be charitable enough, when he examines these
witnesses, to conclude that, if I have been misled, it wjjs with-
out evil intentions, and was not unnatural with such guides be-
fore me. I shall take up the points which I purpoise to notice
mainly in the order of General Johnston's letter.
1. But first, I must endeavor to acquit myself of the charge
of disparaging some of General Jackson's comrades, whom, if
I knew my own thoughts, I was only seeking, in my bungling
way, to honor. General Johnston says: "This account of the
battle does great injustice to General Beauregard, and to Bee's
and Early's brigades ;vnd their commanders. General Jackson's
great fame is in no degree enhanced by such disparagements of
his associates." The reader is requested to bear in mind the
following genera] caution against such impressions contained
72 REPLY OF R. L. DA15NEY, D, D.
in iny preface, page 0: "And especially would I declare that,
in relating the share borne by General Jackson's comrades and
subordinates in his campaigns, I have been actuated by a cordial
and friendly desire to do justic-^ to all. If I shall seem to any
to have done less than this, it will be my misfortune, and not
my intention." But it is more to the point to refer to my words
oi) page 215 of the narrative: ''The other twa" (reserve bri-
gades) "were those of Generals Bee and Jackson, and the hero-
ism of these two was sufficient to reinstate the wavering for-
tunes of the day," etc. Bee i-s mentioned first, and with the
same approbation as Jackson. Is tliis a disparagement? On
page 218. I say of Bee and Evans: "For two hours these two
officers, with five regiments and six guns, had breasted the Fed-
eral advances." etc. (I had before stated th:it this advance was
nf 20,000 men.) Does tliis disparage Bee? On page 222 I at-
tempt in my poor way to describe Bee's heroic end. exactly as
it was detailed to me by those who saw it, in the most honora-
ble words I could find. Oeneral Early and his brigade are men-
tioned by name, but their exploits are not described fully, be-
cause they acted on another part of the field, and had no special
connection, as Bee had, with the movements of my own subject.
Jacksion. And finally, on page 228. to guard against any pos-
siWe apprehension unjust to others, these words are inserted:
"The object of this narrative has been to give such a sketch of
the whole battle as to make the part borne by the Stonewall
brigade and its leader intelligible. -r.wA to give fuller details of
the conduct of the General who^e life is the subject of this work.
The reader will not infer from this that all the stubbtrn and
useful fighting was done by Jackson and his command. Other
officers and other brigades displayed equal heroism, and con-
tributed essentially to the final result," etc.
2. General Johnston questions my correctness in the ac-
count I gave of the surrender of C:>lonel Jackson's command to
him at Harper's Ferry. The point of difference between them
was. that whereas General Johnston claimed to relieve Colonel
J., at once, the latter refused to surrender his trust until au-
thorized in some sliajje to do so by those who had committed it
to him — his State authorities. And the point of difference be-
tween General Johnston and me now is that I say Colonel J.
was inflexible, and actually continued to hold his pawer until,
REPLY OF R L. DABiSTEY, D. D- 73
oppoi-tunely. the anrliority to transfer it raiuc in tlie sliapo of
an eudorsenieut of General Lee on a paper; wliile General John-
ston says: "There was no display of inflexibility on Jackson's
l»art/" that he was euli<;hted by Majjr Whiting, and that my
representation "does injustice to General Jackson's character.''
I did not conceive that it was my business as a historian to re-
liect whether the incident was favorable or unfavorable to Gen-
eral Jackson's character, but to tell the exact trutli as it haj*-
jieucd. That I did not misrej)reseut it is shown by the letter
wliicli (Jeneral Johnstjn himself quotes, saying: "Until I re-
ceive further instructions from Governor Letcher or (Jeneral
Lee I do not feel at liberty to transfer my command to anothei*.
and must therefore decline publishing- the order," etc. ' I have
had the very letter containing General Lee's endoi'sement —
which happily solves the diflflculty — in my p3ssession. (I re-
turned it to Mrs. J., who doubtless has it now.) And if any
one questions whether Colonel J. had receded from his i)ositi(»n
before receiving it. I would suggest that he ask the fact of his
aid. Colonel James Massie, 3f Lexington, Va.
8. I now pass to another point. General Jidinsron. dis-
senting fr.om any o])inii)n that it wdiild liave been better to
marcli the remainder of the Army of the Valley direct to the bar-
tlefield from PieduiDut statiou, instead of waiting upon con-
fused and dilatory trains of cars, sa^vs: "The fact that tlu^e
tro'opvsi were two days in marching twenty-three miles from
(Winchester to Piedmiont) shows that they could not have
marched thirty-four miles, from Piedmont to the scene of ac-
tion, in less than two days, and that the only hope of getting
tliem into the battle was by the railroad.''
I had spoken of Jackson as having made a forced march of
thirty miles from Piedmont, which is charged as an error, liut
I expressly re})resented that march as beginning, uot at \\'in-
chester. but neu'th of Winchester (p. 211). But grant a slight
error of miles here. From Piedmont ta Gainsville is twenty-
six miles, and by a map furnished me from the bureau of Gen-
eral Gilmer of the Engineers, Gainsville is four miles from
Groveton b;v turnpike. So that the distance to be marched on
foot, to get intj action, was thirty miles, not thirty-four. Now.
General Jackson, on that occasion, marched to Piedmont in one
day. Why could not the rest of the troops do the same? They
T4 F.EPLY OF K. L. DABXEY, D. D.
left Wiiu-liester ;rt 12 m. Thursday. The third day brought ex-
actly midday d the great battle. The next March, in short
days. General Jackson marched his army seventy-five miles in
three da^vw. and fought the battle of Kernstown besides. Why
could not the remainder of the Army of the Valley march fifty-
three miles (General Johnston's measure to Groveton) in three
days, when there was no battle to fight by the way? My opin-
ion was. obviously, not grounded on the supposition that the
rrooj)s were to be allowed to dawdle along the road in a man-
ner which General Jackson's brigade ]»roved to be unneces-
sary. As to the destitution of food ar riedmont, xhjse who ques-
tion the fact are respectfully referred to tlie officers and men of
the Thirty-eighth Virginia regiment (foi- instance). They will
receive from tliem statements which will account very fully for
my impression on that subject. No explanation of the fact was
advanced by me.
4. The next point of General Johnston's criticism is my
account of General Beauregard's first plan o'f action and its re-
linciuishment. If the reader will collate the different para-
graphs in which I state that matter (from pp. 218 to 217) he
will find that my representation was substantially this: That
General B.'s original plan had been to take the aggressive and
attack at Centerville, but S3 few of the troops of General J. had
arrived by Saturday night that he was com])elled to postpone
it; that when the enemy took the initiative, Sunday morning.
General B. still recimimended the carrying out of ^so much of
tliat original plan as to advance our right and center on Center-
ville as sojn as the enemy's ]»urposf to direct his main attack
on our extrtMue left was perceived, which suggestion General J.
accepted; that corresponding orders for sucli a movement of the
right and cf'uter were actually issiied. and that tliey miscar-
ried; that when the fact became apparent that thoise orders
were not executed in suflicient time, the generals necessarily
relinquished that excellent plan, and wisely contented them-
selves with bringing up everything within reach for the imme-
diate support of the left. Let the reader now consider the fol-
lowing authorities hy w^hich I attempted to guide myself, and I
think he will feel that I have committed no serious error, and
certainly no intentional one:
General Ewell, then brigadier (whose letter I have before
REPLY OF K. L. DABNKY, D. D. 75
me), savis: "His (B."s) plan for sonic time, as explained in f re-
fluent inferviews with his brigade coniiiianders, had been ta
move forward his ri<;iit and center, and attack." Next (leneral
B., in his otiticial report, says that at 4:.'i0 a. m. of the 21st (Sun-
day) he lordei-ed these ti'oops to be in readiness. (\Vhicli order
General Kwell states he received and observed.) Next, in an-
other part of his report (Jeneral B. istates that he thonjiht an
attack by his rij^ht winjj; and center was the best means of re-
lieving his leftj an<] tliat the dispositions were submitted to
General Johnstcm, and the orders issued. Next, a letter from
General B. to (General Ewell, July 2(5, ISOl, has the following
words: "I do not attach the slif^htest bhtinie to you for the fail-
ure of the ULovement on Centerville, bnt to the jj^uide, who did
not deliver the order to move forward, si'ut at about 8 o'clock
a. ni. to General Holmes, and then to you — corresponding in ev-
ery respect to the one sent to (lenerals -I ones, Lonostreet, and
Ivonham — only their movements were snbordinate to yours."
* * * "I am fully awaiv that yon did all that could be ex-
pected of you or your command. I mereh' expressed my re-
gret that my original '}»lan conld not be carried into effect, as
it would have been a most coniplete victory witli only half the
trouble and fighting. The true cauise of countermanding your
forward movement after you had crossed was that it was then
too late, as the enejny were about to annihilate our left flank,
and had to be met and checked there, for otherwise he would
have taken us on the flank and rear, and all would have been
lost." ''N. B. — The order sent you at about 8 a. m. to commence
the movement on Centerville was addressed to General Holmes
and 3'ourself, as he was to support you; but being nearer Camp
Pickeus, the headquarters, than Union IMills, where you were,
it was to be communicated to him fii'st, and then to you; but he
has informed me that it never reached him." Tlius wrote Gen-
eral Beauregard to General Ewell five days after the battle. If
I understaud the points of General Johnston's objections to my
rendering of the facts hei'e given, they are these: First. That I
err in rei)resenting the giving of the orders to advance the right
and center as occurring when the Yankee attack on the left
was developed; whereas, says General Johnston, they were
then countermanded. (10:;')0 a. m. is the hour lie gives.) And
Becond. That I disparage General Beauregard by representing
76 REPLY OF U L. DABXKY, D D.
him as doing a foolish and ruinous thing, which, had lie done
it, would have kept six brigades out of tiie fight, and surely lost
the ddy. Xow, the reader should note that it is not I, but Gen-
eral Johnston, who gives 10:80 a. m. as the earliest hour at
which lunidquarters knew where the -main Yankee attack was
to be. (I, for my part, should not have dreamed of making so
disparaging a statement.) I didn't presume bo mention the
hour. But I represented Greneral B. as still entertaining the
jmrpose of advancing his right and center after it was perceived
our left wa;3 to be the main point of attack, and as the best
means of relieving it. Does not General Beauregard's letter
bear me out? General J. says General B. could not have list-
ened for the thunder of his batteries on the heights of Center-
ville, for none was sent there. Does not General B.'s letter de-
clare that /le thoti^ht he had sent some there? Last, says Gen-
eral J., six brigades would have been kept out of the fight.
These six were Holmes's, Ewell's, P^arly's. Jones's. Longstreet's,
and Bonham's. I reply, (5) five were kept out. Early's w^as the
only one of the six actually engaged on the left. Holmes's, the
only one of the rest which reached the ground, was in position,
but did not fire a musket. But take General Johnston's own
figures, whicli show that at half-past 10 o'clock a. m. he learned,
at once, that the orders for the advance of the right and center
had miscarried, and that the main A'ankee attack was on the
left. Could not Generals. Bonham, Longstreet, Jones, and Ew-
ell, still have marched three miles and a half to Centerville,
having been in readiness to do so since half-past 4 a. m.? Jack-
son held the key to the position on Young's branch until 3 p.
m., and certainly received no aid from these brigades.
5. The next, and doubtless the main point with General
Johnston, is the oinnion advanced by General Jackson and de-
fended by me — that the pursuit sliould have been pressed, and
Washington threatened. General Johnston justifies his cav-
alry for not pursuing farther, because, says he, ''it was driven
back by the solid resistance of the United States infantry." In
the same paragraph he says: "The infantry was not reciuired to
continue the pursuit, because it would have been harrassing it
to no purpose. It is well known that infantry unencumbered
by baggage trains can easily escape pursuing infantry." Thus
we are told in the same breath that the Yankee infantry was
REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D.D. 77
running so fast that it was useless for the conquering Confed-
erate infantry to fatigue itself by trying to overtake it; and that
the Yankee infantry was at the same time standing so staunchly
as to beat off Radford's regiment of cavalry, and to make attack
by all the Cbnfederate cavalry (J. E. B. Stuart's regiment, etc.)
improper. If the Yankees wei'e making so bold a stand, was not
that a place for the conquering infantry to strike'.'
But 'farther: The Yankee resistance by which Colonel Rad-
ford's onset was momentarily arrested (he being temporarily
unsupported) was not solid, and .-hould not have put an end to
the pursuit. The evidence is in a letter from Colouel Delaware
Kemper, of the artillery, now under my eye, which states that
"immediately after the repulse of the enemy'?; tiual attack he
accompanied Colonel Kershaw" (who then was followed by his
own and Cash's South Carolina regiment) "in pursuit of the
enemy along the turnpike. About dark we arrived within 300
or 400 yards of the suspension bridge over Cub Run, and found
the fugitives along the turnpike crowding across the bridge,
mingled with the Yankee troops who were retreating by the
Sudley road, which intersects the turnpike just west of this
bridge. I opened fire upan these masses and elicited no reply;
but in a few minutes not a Yankee was within range, all having
fled towards Centerville, leaving in our hands fifteen or sixteen
pieces of artillery, many wagons, etc." Thus Captain Kemper,
pursued beyond the point at whic-h oiu- cavalry was temporarily
checked, showing that it should have gone on. With reference
to the recalling of infantry from the pursuit to meet an imag-
inary advance of Yankees on our extreme right. General John-
ston simply flouts the whole statement, and says:
''No troops were recalled from the chase, and sent seven or
eight miles, by night or day, to meet an imaginary enemy."
When the reader considers the following testimony his breath
will probably be as nearly taken away by this as mine was. 1
have under my eye a letter from Colonel R. E. Withers, com-
manding the Eighteenth Virginia regiment, from which I ex-
tract the following words:
"The Eighteenth Virginia was the first regiment which
crossed Bull Run in pursuit. Kershaw's Second South Carolina
and Cash's Eighth South Carolina following almost immediate-
ly. The officers of these (3) three regiments had a rapid con-
78 KEPLY OF R L. DABNEJY, D D
saltation, and agreed upon tlie mode of advance, and speedily
I>iit the men in morion, moving by columns of companies on
each side of the pike. Before proceeding very far, however, I
received, through an officer of General Beauregard's staff, an
order of recall, directing me to march my regiment back to the
Stone bridge. About the time we reached the bridge another
officer rode up, and inquired as to the condition of my regiment
and its capacity for further service. My reply was that the
men were wearied and hungry, but that the bss of the regi-
ment in battle had not exceeded forty or fifty, and that we
were ready to perform any duty which might be deemed neces-
sary. He then told me that 'the General" had just received in-
formation that a heavy column of the enemy was advancing in
the direction of Union Mills, threatening an attack on Manas-
sas junction, and as all the trooiis had been withdrawn from
that place, it was in great danger. This was just before sun-
set. We immediately started for Manassas, and pushed forward
as rapidly as the exhausted condition of the men would permit.
When we reached the 'McLean House,' near Manassas, we were
met by orders directing us to go to Camp Walker, on Bull Run
a short distance above Union Mills; which >place we reached
about midnight. The next morning we were ordered back to
Manassas, and thence to our former position near Ball's ford,
on Bull Kun. where we bivouacked in the rain, and remained
until Tuesday evening, or Wednesday morning. ♦ * * |
presumed that several other regiments received orders similar,
as they also were marched back to Manassas, and one or two of
them to Gamp Walker." So far Colonel Withers. Colonel H.
A. Carrington, then of the Eighteenth Virginia, says: "We. af-
ter sunset, marched seven miles in the direction of our lines on
the right, when the rumored advance proved to be unfounded,
and the regiment was permitted to rest for the night. The next
day, in a drenching rain, we were marched back to the battle-
field, and camped on the banks of Bull Run within one-quarter
of a mile of the scene of confiict.''
With reference to the question of pursuit and of threaten-
ing Washington City, let us first consider how far my position
extends. On page 236 this is rery distinctly defined in the fol-
lowing words: ''They (the generals) are not to be condemned by
history because they did not take Washington, but because
KEPLY OF R. L. DABNEY. D D. 79
they didn't try." Even this qualified opinion I should uever
have presumed to advance before the public on my own judj^-
ment or on that of the amateur sohliers and newspaper critics,
whom General Johnston so justly despises. Ir was only when
I was confirmed in it by the great authority of General Jack-
son that I ventured to advance it; and my motive was only t(j
defend his credit, after stating, as the truth of history compelled
me to do, the fact of his expressing such opinions. It was in
May or June, 1802, that, being alone with General Jackson in
his quarters, I ventured to mention the general expectation and
desire of our troo'ps at Manassas to endeavor at once to im-
prove our victory, and to ask him whether that desire was ig-
norant and foolish. His brow immediately knit, and striking
his little writing table with his hand, he replied: "The neglect
of the attempt was a deplorable blunder. Did you know, that
on the morning after the battle 10,000 fresh troops reached
Manassas, expecting nothing but to be led against the enemy?"
I replied:
"I myself saw large arrivals, for I had gone with our
wounded from the battlefield to the Junction, and witnessed the
coming in of nearly a mile of cars clustered with soldiers like
swarming bees, all cheering and shouting, but I did not know
how many of them there were." General Jackson said: "Yes,
sir, there were ten thousand of them." He then proceeded
briefly, but emphatically, to state the leading ideas on which I
grounded the discussion in my book. As my word anay go for
nothing in this matter, I may here say in passing that if any
one doubts whether I represent General Jackson's opinion
aright herein, he can satisfy himself l)y resorting to the Hon.
Alexander Boteler, to wliom (}(meral Jackson expressed sub-
stantially the same view^ in July, 1S(;2, at Harrison's lauding.
General Johnston thinks that had Jackson estimated the policy
at Manassas as I represent him, he could not have refrained
from expostulating. All I can say is, that I heard him say what
I 'have above stated. Poni' days after tlie battle (he being then
under General Johnston's orders), I heard some one ask him
the (jucstion why the cufMuy were not ])ressed? wIkmi he i*ei)lie!l.
with a (luiet smile, and a caution which; suppn^ssed even the
faintest intimation of his jtrivate opini(Hi on his countcnanct',
"You will have to ask that of (Jciieral Johnston." liiil in 1S()2
80 REPLY OF n. L. DABNET, D.t).
I heard General Jaeksou, wheu uo ioiigei' under Jiis urdei\s. ex-
X>ress the strong dissent stated above. I suppose the exphina-
tion is to be found in his well known subordination, silence,
and modest}^ towards suj)eriors. And if I have been in error
as to the number of fresh troops, the mistake was General Jack-
son's, and not mine. The same fact may account, in part, for
the statement, on page 239, that the Confederate forces had
grown in autumn to an aggregate of 60,000. Has General
Johnston, after all, denied this? It is not my purpose so much
to argue the polic}' of pursuing our victor}' at first Manassas
as to exhibit the supposed evidences of facts claimed in my
narrative. But it may be said that if the opinion supported in
my book is erroneous, it is an error which is found in very large
and very good company. It finds plausibility in the exalted
authority of General Jackson. I have never conversed with
more than one intelligent Southerner who did not share it with
me. It receives countenance from many of high authority
among our conquerors. Many readers will recall, for example,
the admission of the Yankee Brigadier-General Prentice, cap-
tured by General Beauregard at Shiloh, who frankly declared
that in failing to improve our victory at Manassas we had lost
our opportunity; that the United States had just then reached
the temporary limit of their existing munitions and means;
that the temper of the nation would probably not have en-
dured farther disaster; but that now all was changed, and our
chance had passed away. The common sense of the people,
Xorth and South, reasoned that if the Confederates could not
(for some reason, whatever it might be) so improve the hour
of most brilliant success as to cripple the powers of their ad-
versary for future aggression, then obviously their gallantry
must be vain in the end, and must fail before superior num-
bers. It was this thought which encouraged the North as they
recovered from their fright. It was this which filled thought-
ful men with foreboding among us. General Johnston points
to the failure of the invasions of 1862 and 1863 as proofs that
he judged wisely. I point to the fact that Generals Lee and
Jackson and the Government judged successes should thus be
followed up as proof that the same opinion was not absurd in
1861. I point also to the fact that the invasions of 1862 and
1863 both came verv near being successful. The former, ac-
REPLY OF R. L D.\B>rF.Y, D D. 81
coi'diiio- ro the best officers, was only defeated by the stragglinj^
of our sDldiers. The latter broughr the Yankee empire to the
A( rgi of ruin, as they very plainly felt at +he tinn . lUit my
chief answer here is that the case of 1801 was wholly diflt'erent
from the two subsequent, and the reasoning from them to it is
very much as though one should argue that because iu two
cases com planted in November did not thrive, therefore he did
right to neglect planting in April. In 1862 and 1803 the Yan-
kees had had time to prepare and to equalize their inferior ma-
terial to arms by drill and experience. In 1801, when both
were inexperienced, was the time for us to employ our superior
morale. General Johnston, referring to our victories at second
Manassas, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville, says: "On
these occasions tlie forces defeated were ten times as numerous
as those repulsed on the 21st of -Tuly. 1801. and their losses
twenty times as great." He has told us that McDowell brought
10,000 against him. Does he mean to say that Burnside or
Hooker had. either of them, 400,000? McDowell's loss was es-
timated by (feneral Beauregard at some 1.000. Was Hooker's
80,000? He doubtless uses the words ''defeated''' and ''repulsed''
intentionally. Did Hooker or Burnside retire across the Kap-
pahannock in so much greater dis;)rder than McDowell fled to
tlie I*otomac? But to the facts: General Johnston declared
that the troops could not have been subsisted on the country
of the vicinage in an advance on Alexandria, because the army
of McDowell, passing over it twice, had doubtless stripped it
bare. He forgets that this army was commanded by General
Scott, who, recreant as he was to his native land, did not con-
duct war on savage methods; that he sent out his troops fully
supplied for the march; and that their Hight was itoo fright-
ened and rapid for foraging. Tlu' fact is, tliat they left the
resources of the vicinage untouched. It was on my return to
Centerville after the battle that I found a herd of sixty beeves
on a farm a mile from the village, which had been precluded
fi'om their intended market iu Alexandria by the hostilities.
And I have the testimony of Golonel Mosby that the neighlvor-
hood would then have al)undanlly supplied a marching army.
As to distance, the engineers of the Orange and Alexandria
railroad state that ^lanassas junction is twenty-seven nriles
from Alexandria. The distance by turnpike is not much' dif-
82 REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D.D.
fereiil; uiid the Stuue bridge is by that I'oad nearer Alexandria
than is the junction. My estimate of the disorganized condi-
tion of the Yankee troops after the battle is denied on the au-
thority of the reports of their general oflflcers; and we are told
of three divisions unscathed of battle. Let the reader con-
sider if my impressions were not excusable in view of the fol-
lowing facts: First. The public has not yet forgotten the
lively descriptions of Mr. Kussel, the correspondent of the Lon-
don Times, by whose truthful pictures the Yankees were so in-
tensely mortified. He was surely not a mere heedless, unpro-
fessional relator like me. He had carefully studied, as an eye-
witness, the great operations of the Crimean war. Next, I will
give some facts which will show the real condition of the Y'^an-
kee reserves, and of those bodies of their troops which are re-
ported as having retired in so steady and orderly a manner.
In a letter from Colonel Del. Kemper, relating to his pursuit
aibove mentioned, are the following words: ^'I subsequently
learned that these troops were under General Burnside, who
claimed that they were retiring in good order until the artil-
lery fire above spoken of created the stampede, which he did
not pretend to deny. Their failure to respond to my fire mates
me doubt their previous good order." A mile south of Center-
ville lived (and I hope still lives) an excellent gentleman named
Thomas Stuart, whose Christian hospitalities many a sick and
hungry Confederate blessed. He remained on his own premises
the whole of Sunday, the 21st. He told me that when the
stream of fugitives and vehicles came back, a reserve division
of Federal infantry was drawn up across his fields; that as the
confusion increased they began to waver; that they were then
broken merely by the influence of their own comrades' flight,
and a'bout sunset they joined their rout, flying so precipitately
as to leave his fields scattered over with knapsacks, etc., in
such quantity that on the-morrow, he and his servants turning
out in the rain, hauled in a granary full of them for the Con-
federate officers. Y^et no armed Confederate had come within
cannon shot of these brave reserves. Mr. Stuart was visited by
numerous Confederate officers on Monday, and in fact arrested
by one of them in a moment of misunderstanding, and rudely
carried to the guardhouse at Manassas. Is it said such facts
were not known at headquarters? I reply by the question:
R1??LY OF R L. DABNKY, D. D. 83
Ought not lieadquartei's to liave been better infoiineJ
llian an obscure person like nn^? Do nol coninianders employ
efficient iseouts? Again, General McDowell, on his return to
Centerville, called together his general officers and advised
with them. After debate, it was resolved to fall back on the
lines of Arlington. But when the generals sei)arated, and went
to the ii]ac(\s where their several divisions had been ordered to
bivouack. they found them all silent and vacant — their troops
had come to the same conclusion much more i)romptl.v. Again,
there was a reserved division advanced to tlie little village ;)f
(Termantown, six miles back of Centerville. This body broke
at the sight of their fug-itive comrades, and concluding that
the Confedei'ates, with bloody bayont^s, were close beliind the
crowd, wisely took the r;)ad aliead of their brethren, instead of
letting" them pass and covering their retreat. I quote again
from Colonel Kemper: "Soon after the close of the war, I re-
turned to my home in Alexandria, Va., and learned from gen-
tlemen, residents of that city, that no c:)nsiderable body of men
returned to Alexandria from ^Nlamissas in a state of organiza-
tion; and that the garrisons of at least some"^ of the forts cover
ing Alexandria and Washington spiked their guns in expecta-
tion of the coming of the Confederates."
I trust that, with such statements before me, I may be
pard(med for believing notwithstanding Yankee assertions,
that their army was disorganized.
AYith reference to the fortifications at Washington, the
navigable river, and the ships-of-war, I ]»resume that the ex-
pectation entertained by sensibh^ nu-n, who hoped that an at-
tempt w:)uld be made to imi»rove our success, was that so lu-
cidly explained as his own l)y (Colonel Mosby. It was, not that
we should sit down in Alexandria, to be pelted out <by ships-of-
war, n )r that we should stu}tidly besiege foi-ts without a siege
apparatus, but that, remembering the J'otomac ceases to be a
navigable river ai Washington, and that the forts on the north
and east sides of the city had no existence until aftei-wards, un-
der ^IcClellan. we should do what Lee and -Jackson did in ISOli
— promptly cross above Washington, avail ourselves of our su-
periority of cavalry (McDowell had but six companies, almost
totally disorganized, at the first collision, July ISth). place our-
selves between the city and the routed army and General Put-
84 REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D. D.
terson, and effectually' interrupt the railroad lines to Washing-
ton, while we put ourselves in communication with the South-
ern party in Baltimore. // was this which we hoped to see at-
tempted; and we thought that there was enough reason to hope
that it wauld result in the hurried evacuation of Washiugron,
and so, in great political and moral results, to indicate the pol
icy of a prompt and vigorous exi>eriment.
This leads to the question of fact as to the expectation ac-
tually prevalent in the army. General Johnston does not "be-
lieve that this bombast was really uttered in the army." (The
allusion is to the passage on p. 233. The rhetoric I relinquish
undefended, as becomes a decorous author at the bar of criti-
cism; and the more cheerfully as it is not my own. The fact is,
that / heard this very simile uttered by one of the ablest and
most enlightened men in Virginia, and connected with the
army. It so struck my uncultivated taste that when, long af-
ter, the narrative was written it ran off the end of my pen
spontaneously.) He was led to believe that our troops thought
the war finished, and so went home without leave in crowds.
My impression was that the men wished to pursue their suc-
cess; that the desire to go home was a consequence and not a
cause of the inaction which followed. Let the reader see if this
impression was not natural, with such testimonies as the fol-
lowing. Colonel Kemper: "In regard to the sentiment of the
army on the subject of the failure to pursue our routed enemy,
I can speak positively only of my own deep disappointment,
but will add my ■belief that the disappointment was shared by
all my acquaintances, and prevailed entirely throughout the
army. We had not then learned that the whole duty of an army
is to obey orders and ask no questions. The widely-extended
disposition to go home, so justly represented by our generals,
was, I believe, developed by the conviction which necessarily
soon became prevalent that the campaign was ended."
Colonel Robert E. Withers, of the Eighteenth Virginia,
writes: "I can only say that so far as I was cognizant of the
wishes and expectations of the troops, they certainly. anticipat-
ed and desired a speedy advance on Washington; and it was
only after the lapse of some days, when it was evident that no
such advance was contemplated, that the demoralizations and
desertions became so troublesome. Such was certainly the case
REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D. D. 85
in our brigade, and I have good reason to believe tliai fhe same
condition of things existed in other portions of the army. In
this connection I will state that I have just had a conversation
with Colonel Mosby on this subject, who coincides fully in my
opinion, and states that when the cavalry was advanced to
Fairfax Courthouse on Tuesday (the second day after the bat-
tle). General Elzey's brigade accomi>anied the cavalry advance,
and were in an efficient and serviceable condition, apparently
anxious for a rapid advance on Washington. Colonel Mosby
also believes that if the entrenchments in front of Washington
should have proven too formidable to encounter, no difficulty
would have been experienced in compelling the evacuation of
the city by a flank movement, crossing the Potomac above
Washington, thus interposing our army between Patterson and
the city, and with our cavalry occupying the line of the Balti-
more and Ohio railroad, our great superiority in that arm of the
service would have rendered this movement almost certainly
successful."
Colonel Carrington says: ''My tirm conviction is that our
army generally favored a prompt and energetic pursuit and im-
provement of our victory." * * * ''The disposition of of-
ficers and men to return home was very strong after they be-
came satisfied that there would be no onward movement," etc.
Thus, also, testifies a letter frcmi Dr. Richard P. Waltim. then
a surgeon in the field.
One more point remains to be noticed, (xeneral .lohnston
says: "No troops were then encamped in the valley of Bull
Run, or nearer to the battlefield than four or five miles. The
dead had been buried, so that ladies visited the field without
inconvenience."
If the "then" relates to the date of greatest mortality, this
may be true. But I was possessed of testimonies which I
rhought justified me in believing that the opposite was true
long enough to do the mischief to the health of the troops. The
dead men had been buried, but the horses had not. The ani-
mal remains of Yankee cami)s, as well as slain men and ani-
mals, infected the country foi- miles.
Then as to the facts: Wc have seen that Colonel Carring-
ton states the Eighteenth A'irginia encamped until Tuesday
evening "within quarter of a mile of the scene of the conflict."
86 REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D.D.
Then Cocke's wliole bii^ade was eiuaiiiped tDi- more than a
week at Cub Run bridfje. just where the battle ended, in the
midst of a painful ettluviuni. Colonel Camngton says: "Hlev-
eral other brigades besides Cocke's were encamped in the im-
mediate vicinity of the battlefield."
It is perfectly true that after the health of the regiments
was infected, many of tliem were removed to healthier spots.
But both the sickness and the mortality continued great. Let
such facts as these show the condition of at least a part of the
army. The lamented General Chavles S. Winder told me in
May or June. 1802. that he came to the lines of General John-
st )n after the battle as Colonel commanding a ^^outh Carolina
regiment 000 strong. He was directed to stop at Bristoe and
encamp at Broad Run. He staid there until the fever had
made such ravages that the most he could parade were 300.
In the same brigade with the Thirty-eighth Virginia was a
Xorth Carolina regiment. In this there were not enough well
men to nurse the sick, and details were made from other regi-
ments to help them. The Eighteenth Virginia went to Manas-
sas with TOO bayonets. In August, according to report of the
surgeon, it was reduced to . It was only once under fire,
and the maximum of its loss at that time has been already giv-
en in the citation from Colonel Withers.
But it is time tliar Tliis communication was closed, and I
end it with repetitions of respectful consideration for the em-
inent services, virtues, and position of General J. Two reasons
alone have induced me to break that silence in reply to which
is usually the most decorous for an author whose published
works are subjected to criticism. ( )ne is the interest of truth ;
the other is the interest of the widow and orphan of General
Jackson; for I might well fear that the adverse opinion of so
eminent an authoi'ity as General Joseph E. Johnston would
limit, if not wholly arrest, the sale of the work which is design-
ed to aid in relieving these defenseless persons. While, on the
one hand, it would be unprincipled in me to seek their pecun-
iary advantage at the expense of the just fame of General John-
ston, or any other; on the other hand. I am sure that he would
regret any unintentional injury to the prospects which was not
necessary to the defense of truth. R. L. DABNEY.
MEMOIR OF A NARRATIVE RECEHED OF
COLONEL JOHN B BALDWIN,'
OF STAUNTON, TOUCHING THE ORIGIN OF THE WAR.
By Rev. R. L. Dabnev, D. D.
(The followiuo; paper from the able pen of Rev. Dr. K. L.
Dabuey will be read with deep interest, and will be found to be
a valuable contribution to the history of the origin of the war.
It may be worth while in this connection to recall the fact
that when soon after the capture of Fort Sumter and Mr. Lin-
coln's proclamation, a prominent Xortliern p )litician wrote
Colonel Baldwin to ask: "What will the T'ni(m men of Vir-
irinia do now?" lu* immediately rejjlied: ''There are now no
Union men in Virginia. But those \<\\k) were Tni )n men will
stand to their arms, and make a fight which shall go down in
history as an illustration of what a brave people can do in de-
fense of their liberties, after having exhausted every means of
pacification.")
In March, 18G5, being with the army in I*etersburg, Vir-
ginia, I had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Baldwin at a small
entertainment at a friend's h;iuse, where he conversed wirli me
some two hours on public affairs. During this time, he detail-
ed to me the history of his ])rivate mission, from the Virginia
Secession Convention, to Mr. Lincoln in April, 1801. The facts
he gave me have struck me, especially since the conquest of
the South, as 3f great importance in a history of the origin of
rhe war. It was my earnest hope that Colonel Baldwin would
reduce rlieiii into a narrative for publication, and I afterwards
rook measures to induce him to do so, but I fear without effect.
Should it a])pear that he has left such a narrative, while it will
confirm ilie subsrantial fidelity >f my narrative at second liand.
it will als;) supersede mine, and of this result I should be ex-
tremely glad. Surviving friends and ]iolitical associatei^ of
Colonel ISalilwin iiuist have heard him narrate the same inter-
1 From Southern Bistorical Society Papers.
88 COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mr. Lincoln.
esling- facts. I would rainestly invoke^ their recollcctioii of his
.statements to them, so as to correct me, if in any point I mis-
conceived the author, and to confirm me where I am correct, so
that the history may regain, as far as possible, that full cer-
tainty of whitli it is in danger of losing a part by the lamented
death of Colonel Baldwin. What I here attempt to do, is to
give faithfully, in my own language, what I understood Colonel
Baldwin to tell me, according to my best comprehension of it.
His narration was eminently perspicuous and impressive.
It should als > be premised, tliat the ^'irginia Convention,
as a body, was not in favor of secession. It was prevalently
under the influence of statesmen of the school known as the
"Clay-Whig." One of the few original secessijnists told me
that at first there were but twenty-five members of that opin-
ion, and that they gained no accessions, until they were g-iven
them by the usurpations of the Lincoln party. The Conven-
tion assem'bled with a fixed determination to preserve the
Union, if forbearance and prudence could do it consistently
with the rights of the K^tates. Such, as is well known, were, in
the main, Colonel Baldwin's views and purposes.
But i\Ir. Lincoln's inaugural, with its liints of coercion and
usurpation, the utter failure of the 'Teace-Congress," and the
rejecti(m of Mr. Crittenden's overtures, the refusal to hear the
commissioners from ^Ir. Davis' (Tovernment at Montg'omery,
and the secret arming of the Federal Crovernment for attack,
had now produced feverish ai>preliensions in and out of the
Conventiju. Colonel Baldwin considei-ed ^Mr. Wm. Ballard
Preston, of ^lontgomery County, as deservedly one of the most
influential members of that body. This statesman now began
to feel those sentiments, which, soon after, prompted him to
move and secure the passage of the resolution to appoint a
formal commission of three ambassadors from the Convention
to Lincoln's Government, who should communicate the views
of Virginia, and demand those of Mr. Lincoln. (That commis-
si(m consisted of Wm. B. Preston, Alex. H. H. Stuart and Geo.
W. Randolph. We will refer to its history in the sequel.) Mean-
time Mr. Preston, with other original Union men, were feeling
thus: "If our voices and votes are to be exerted farther to
hold Virginia in the I'nion, we must know what the nature of
that Union is to be. We have valned Union, but we are also
COLONEL BALDWIN S INTKRVIEW WITH MR. LINCOLN. 80
Vii'<,niiinns, nnil we lovo the riiioii oiilv as it is based upon the
Constitution. If the j)o\v(m- of the Tnited States is to be per-
verted to invade the ri^lits of States and jf tlie i)eople, we
would support the Fed(^ral (Jovernnient no farther. And now
that the attitude of that (Jovernnient was so ominous of usur-
pation, we musi lcnov\- whither it is goin^, or we can jro with it
no farther." Mr. Preston es})e('ially detdared that if he were
to become an a^ent for holding- Vir.uinia in tlie Union to the
destruction of lier lionor, and of the liberty jf her peojde and
her, sister States, he would rather die than exert that aj;ency.
Meantime Mr. Seward. Lincoln's Secretary of State, sent
Allen B. ]\ra<irud(M% Esq., as a confidential messenp;er to Rich-
mond, ta hold an interview with ^h\ Janney (President of the
Convention), ^Iv. Stuart, and otluM" intluential members, and
t ) urge that one of them should come to Washin»;ton, as
[U'omptly as possible, to confer with ^Ir. Lincoln. Mr. ^lagrnd-
er stated that he was authorized by Mr. Seward to ;say that
Fort Sumter would be evacuated on the Friday of the ensuinj;
week, and that the Pawnee would sail on the followinji' Monday
for Charleston, to effect the evacuation. Mr. Seward said that
secrecy was all imj)oi'tant, and ^^■hile it was extremely desira-
ble that one of them shituld see Mr. Lincoln, it was ecpially im-
portant that th(^ public should know nothin**' of the interview.
These j^entlemen held a conference, and determined that as
each of them was well known in Washington by person, the
re(juired secrecy could not be i)reserved if either of them went.
They therefore asked Colonel Baldwin to go, furnished with
the necessary credentials to Mr. Lincoln. He at first demurred,
saying that all his public services had been to Virginia, and
that he knew notliing of Washington and the Federal politics,
but they replied that this was precisely what qualified him, be-
cause his presence theie would not excite remark or suspicion.
Cnlonel Jialdwin accordingly agreed to the mission, and went
witli Mr. Magruder the following night, reaching Washington
llie next morning by the "Accpiia Creek route" a little after
dawn, and driving direct lo the house of Mr. Magruder's broth-
er. (These gentlemen were brothers of General J. B. Magruder,
of Virginia.) These prefatory statements prei)are the way for
Colonel Baldwin's special narrative.
He stated that after breakfasting and attending to his
90 COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mk. Lincoln.
tailet at the liouse of Captain Magruder, he went with Mr. A.
B. Magruder, iu a carriage, with the glasses carefully raised,
to Seward, who took charge of Mr. Baldwin, and went direct
with him to the White House, reaching it. he thought, not much
after nine o'clock a. m. At the door, the man who was acting
as usher, or porter, was directed by ('obnel Baldwin's com-
}>anion. to inform the President that a gentleman wished to see
him on important business. The man replied, as Colonel Bald-
win thought, with an air of negligence, that he would report
the application of c )urse, but that it would be useless, because
the President was already engaged with very important per-
sonages. Some card, or such missive, was given him, and he
took it in. He soon returned with a surprised look, and siiid
that the gentleman was to be admitted instantly. Colonel Bald-
win accordingly followed him and Mr. Seward into what he pre-
sumed was the President's ordinary business room, where he
found him in evidently anxious consultation with three or four
elderly men. who appeared to wear importance in their aspect.
Mr. Seward whispered something to the President, who at once
arose with eagerness, and without nuiking any movement to
introduce Colonel Baldwin, said bluntly, in substance: "Gen-
tlemen, excuse me. for I must talk with this man at once. Come
this way. sir!" (to Colonel Baldwin). He then tojk him up
stairs to quite a diflerent part of the house, and into what was
evidently a i)rivate sleeping apartment. There was a handsome
bed. with bureau iind mirror, washstaud. etc., and a chair or
two. Lincoln closed the door and locked it. He then said:
-Well. I suppose this is Colonel Baldwin, of Virginia? I have
hearn of you a good deal, and am glad to see you. How d' ye.
do sir?" Colonel Baldwin presented his note of credential or
introducticm. which Lincoln read, sitting upon tlie edge of the
bed. and sjiitring frcmi time to tini-e on the carpet. He then,
bioking inquiringly at Colonel Baldwin, intimated that he un-
derstood he was authorized to state for liis friends iu the Vir-
ginia Convention the real state of oi)ini(m and purpose there.
Fpon Colonel Baldwin's portraying the sentiments which pre-
vailed among the majority there. Lincoln said (lueruloiisly :
''Yes I your Virginia i)eople are good I'nionisrs. but it is al-
ways with an if! I don't like that sort of Lnionism." Colonel
Baldwin firmly and respectfully explained, rhat in one sense
COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mk. Lincoln. 91
no freeman cDuld be more than a eendirional Union man, fur
The value of the Union was in that eipiitabh' and beneficent
(\)Uslitntion on which it was founded, and if this were lost,
"Union" mijiiit becouie but another name for mischievous op-
pression. He also ^ave Mr. Lincoln assurances, that the de-
scription which he was making- of the state of opinion in Vir-
ginia, was in perfect candor and fidelity, and that he mi^^^ht rest
assured the i^reat body of Vir<iiuia, in and )ut of the Uonven-
tion, would concur in these views, viz: That allhoujih strongly
opposed to a presidential election upon a sectional, free-soil
platform, which they deplored as most danj»er >us and unwise,'
Mrjiinia did not approve of makinj? that, evil as it was, a
casus belli, or a ground for disrupting the Union. That much
as Mrginia disapproved it, if Mr. Lincoln would only adhere
faithfully to the Constitution and the laws, she would supi>ort
him just as faithfully as though he were the man of her choice,
and would wield her whole moral force to keep the border
►States in the Union, and to bring back the seven seceded States.
But that while much difference of opinion existed :)n the ques-
ti<m, whether the right of secession was a constitutional one,
all Virginians were unanimous in believing that no right ex-
isted in the Federal Government to coerce a State by force of
arms, because it was expressly withheld by the Uonstitutian;
that the State of \"irginia was unaninn)usly resolved not to
asquiesce in the usurpation of that power, as had been declared
by unanimous joint resolution of her present Legislature, and
by the sovereign Uonvention n )w sitting, according to the tra-
ditionary principles of the State; that if Virginia remained in
the Union, the other border States would follow her example,
while, if she were driven out, they would probably go with her,
and the whole Sautli w )uld be united in irreconcilable hostility
to his (TovernnuMit; and that the friends of peace desired to have
a guarantee that liis i)olicy towards the seven seceded States
would be pacific, and would i-egard their rights as States; with-
out which guarantee the Uonventiou could not kccji tlu^ jieople
in the T'nion, even if they w:)uld.
Lincoln now sh )wed very plainly that tliis view was dis-
tasteful to him. He intimated that the peoj)le of the South
were not in earnest in all this. He said that in Washington he
was assured that all the resolutions and speeches and declara-
92 COLONEL BALDWIN'S INTERVIEW WITH MR. LINCOLN.
lions of this tenor from the Soutli wei-e hut a '•^aine of h^af^"
intended to intimidate the adminisriati )n parry, the ordinary
and holh)w expedient of politicians; that, in short, when the
(rovernnient showed its hand, there wonhl "be nothing in ir
hni talk." Colonel Baldwin assured him solemnly that such
advisers fatally misunderstood the South, and especially \'ir-
ginia, and that upon the relinquishment )r adoption of the pol-
icy of violent coercion, yeace or a dreadful wai- would inevita-
bly turn. Lincoln's native good sense, with ('olonel Baldwin's
evident sincerity, seemed now to open his eyes to this truth.
He slid off the edge :)f the bed, and began to stalk in his awk-
ward manner aci-oss the cham'ber, in great excitement and per-
jilexity. He clutched his shaggy hair, as thougli he would jerk
out handfuls by the roots; he fi-owntnl and contorted his fea-
tures, exclaiming: "I ought to have known tliis soonerl Ymi
are too late, sir, foo late'. Why did you not come here four
days ago, and tell me all this".'*" turning fiercely upon Colonel
Baldwin. He replied: "Why, Mr. President, you did not ask
our advice. Besides, as soon as we received permission to ten-
der it, I came by tlie first train, as fast as steam would bring
me." ''Yes, but you are too late, I tell you, too lateV Colonel
Baldwin understood this as a dear intinmtion that the policy
of coercion was determined on, and that within the last four
days. He said that he therefore felt im})elled, by a solemn
sense of duty to his c )untry, to make a final effort for impress-
ing Lincoln with the truth. "Never, " said he to me, "did 1
make a speech m\ behalf of a client, in jeopardy of his life, with
such earnest solemnity and endeavor." "And," he added,
"there was no simulated emotions; for wlu^n he perceived from
Lincoln's hints, and from the workings of his crafty and satur-
nine countenance, the truculence of iiis jiurpose. his own soul
was filled with such a sense of the coming miseries of the coun-
try, and of the irreparable ruin of the Constitution, that he felt
he would willingly lay down his life t:) avert them." He en-
deavored to make the Bresident feel that Providence had placed
the destiny of the country in his liands, so that he might be
forever blessed and venerated as the second Washington — the
savior of his country — or execrated as its destroyer. What
policy, then, did the Union men of Virginia advise? We be-
lieve, answered Colonel Baldwin, that one single step will be
OOLOITEL BALDWIN^S INTEUvrEW WITFI MR. LINCOLN.
i)H
sufficient to paralyze the secession movement, and to make the
true friends of the I'nion mastei-s; of the situation. This was a
simple proclamation, firmly pledging- the new administration
to respect the Constitution and laws, and the rights of the
States; to repudiate the power of coercing seceded States by
force of arms; to rely uimn conciliation and enlightened self-
interest in the latter to bring tlieni back into the Union, and
meantime to leave all questions at issue t:i be adjudicated by
the constitutional tribunals. The obvious ground of this pol-
icy was in the fact that it was not the question of free-soil
which threatened to rend the country in twain, but a well
grounded alarm at the attempted overthraw of the Constitu-
lion and liberty, by the usurpation of a power to crush States.
The question of free-soil had no such importance in the eyes of
the people of the border States, nor even of the seceded States,
as to become at once a casus belli. But, in the view of all par-
ties in the border States, the claim of coercion had infinite im-
portance. If, as Mr. Lincoln had argued, secession was uncon-
stitutional, coercion wa;s moi'e clearly so. When attempted, it
must necessarily take the form of a war of some States against
other States. It was thus the death-knell of constitutional
Union, and so a thorougli revolution of the Federal Govern-
ment. It was the overthrow of the reserved rights of the States,
and these were the only bulwark of the liberty of the people.
This, then, was the real cause of alarm at the South, and not
the claim of free-soil, unjust as was the latter; hence, all that
was necessary' to reduce the free-soil controversy to harmles.s
and manageable dimensions, was to reassure the vSouth against
the dreaded usurpation of which free-soil threatened to be made
the pretext. This, Colonel lialdwin showed, could easily be
done by a policy of conciliation, without giving sanction to
what ^Ir. Lincoln's administration chose to regard as the heresy
of secession! The Government would still hold the Union and
the Constitution as perpetual, and the separate attitude of the
seceded States as temporary, while it relied upon moderation,
justice, self-interest of the Southern people, and the potent
mediation of the border States to terminate it. "Only give this
assurance to the counrry, in a i)roclamation of five lines," said
Colonel Baldwin, "and we i»ledge ourselves that Virginia (and
with her the border States) will stand by you as though you
9-1: COLONEL BALDWIN^S USTTERVIEW WITH MR LINCOLN.
v^ere our own Washington. Ba sure am I," he added, "of tJiis,
and of the inevitable ruin which will be precipitated by the op-
posite policy, that I would this day freely consent, if you would
let me write those decisive lines, you might cut off my head,
were my life my own, the hour after you signed them.'"
Lincoln seemed impressed by his solemnity, and asked a
few questions: "But what am I to do meantime with thosf?
men at Montgomery? Am I to let them go on?'' "Yes, sir."
I'pplied Colonel Baldwin, decisively, "until they can be peace-
ably l)i-ouglir back." "And open ("luirleston. etc.. as ports of
entry, with their ten per cent, tariff. What, then , would be-
come of tuy tartfff This last question he announced with such
emphasis, as showed that in his view it decided the whole mat-
ter. He then indicated that the interview was at an end, and
dismissed Colonel Baldwin, without i»romising anything more
definite.
In order to confirm the accuracy of my own memory, I
have submitted the above narrative to the Honorable A. H. H.
Stuart. r\)loiiel Baldwin's neighbor and political associate, and
the only surviving member of the commission soon alter sent
from the Virginia Convention to Washington. In a letter to
me, he says: "When Colonel Baldwin returned to Richmond,
he reported to the four gentlemen above named, and to Mr.
Samuel Price, of Greenbrier, the substance of his interview with
Lincoln substantially as he stated it to you?''
I asked Colonel Baldwin what was the explanation of this
remarkable scene, and especially of Lincoln's perplexity. He
replied that the explanation had always appeared to him to be
this: When the sev^n Gulf States had actually seceded, the
Lincoln faction were greatly surprised and in great uncertainty
what to do; for they had been blind enough to suppose that all
Southern opposition to a sectional President had been empty
bluster. They were fully aware that neither Constitution nor
laws gave them any right to coerce a State to remain in the
Union. The whole people, even in the imperious North, knew
and recognized this truth. The New York Tribune, even, ad-
mitted it. violent as it was, and deprecated a Union "pinned to-
gether with bayonets." Even General Winfield Scott, the mili-
tary "Man Friday," of Federal power, advised that the Govern-
ment should say: "Erring Sisters, go in peace." So strong was
coLONKL Baldwin's interview with mr. Lincoln. 95
the conviction, even in the Northern mind, that sncli jonnials as
Harper's Weekly and Monthly, shrewdly mercenary in their
whole aim, were notoriously courting- the secession feeling.
New York, the tinancial capital of America, was well known
to be oppDsed to the faction and lo coenion. Tlu^ previous
Congress had expired without daring to pass any coercive mea-
sures. The administration was not at all certain that the pub-
lic opinion of the American i>eoi)le could be made to tolerate
anyrhing so illegal and mischievous as a war of coercion. (Sub-
sequent events and declarations betrayed also how well the
Lincoln faction knew at the time that it was utterly unlawful.
For instance: when Lincoln launched into that war, he did not
dare to say that he was warring against States, and for the
purpose of coercing them into a F'ederal Uni )n of force. In
his proclamation calling for the first seventy-five thousand sol-
diers, he had deceitfully stated that they were to be used to
sui>port the laws, to repossess Federal property and places, and
to suppress irregular combinations of individuals pretending
to or usurping the powers of State (Tovernments. The same was
the tone of all the war speakers and war journals at first. They
admitted thar a State could not be coerced into the Union; but
they held that no State really and legitimately desired to go out,
or had gone out — "the great Union-loving majority in the
South had been overruled by a factious secession minority, and
the Union troops were only to liberate them from that violence,
and enable them to declare their unabated love for the Union."
No well informed man was, at first, absurd enough to speak of
a State as ''committing treason" against the confederation, the
creature of the States; the measure was always spoken of as
"Secession," the actors v/ere "Secessionists." and even their ter-
ritory was ''Secessia." It remained for an ecclesiastical body,
pretended rei)resentative of the Church of the Prince of Peace,
in their ignorant and venomous spirit of persecution, to apply
the term "treason" first to the movement in favor of liberty.)
The action of the seven States, then, perplexed the Lincoln fac-
tion excessively. On the other hand, the greed and spite of the
hungry crew, who were now grasping the power and spoils so
long passionately craved, could not endni-e tlu' th )ught rh;»t
the l)i-ize should thus collaj)se in tln^r hands. Hence, when
the administration assembled at Washington, it probably had
96 COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mr. lincoln.
no very detinite policy. Seward, wlio assiiiued to do the think-
ing for them, was temporizing. Colonel Baldwin supposed it
was the visit, and the terrorizing of the "radical Governors,"
which had just decided Lincoln to adopt the violent policy.
They had especially asserted that the secession of the seven
States, and the convening and solemn admonitions of State con-
ventions in the others, formed but a system of bluster, or, in
the vulgar phrase of Lincoln, but a "gauu^ of brag"; that the
Southern States were neither willing nor able to fight for their
own cause, being paralyzed by their fear of servile insurrection.
Thus they liad urged ujjon Lincoln, that tlie best way to secure
his party triumph was to i)recipitate a collision. Lincoln liad
probably committed himself to this ])olie3', without Seward's
]u-ivity, within the last four days; and the very men whom Col-
onel Baldwin found in conclave with him were probably intent
upon this conspiracy at the time. But when Colonel Baldwin
solemnly assured Lincoln that this violent policy would infal-
libly precipitate the border States into an obsfinate war, the
natural shrewdness of the latter was sufficient to open his eyes,
at least partiall}', and he saw that his factious ciounsellors,
])linded by hatred and contempt of the Soutli, had reasoned
falsely; yet, having just committed himself to tliem, he had not
manliness euougli to recede. And above all, the policy urged
by Colonel Baldwin would have disappointed the hopes of leg-
islative ])lund('r, by means of inflated tariffs, which were the
real aims for which free-soil was the mask.
Thus far Colonel Baldwin's narrative proceeded. The con-
versation then turned ux)on the astonishing supineuess (or blind-
ness) of the consel'vatives, so-called, of the Xorth, to the high-
lianded usurpations of their own rights, perpetrated by Lincoln
and Seward, under pretext of subduing the seceded States, such
as the suspension of habeas corpus, the State prisons, the ar-
rests without indictment, and the martial law imposed, at tlie
beck of the Federal power, in States called by itself "loyal." 1
asked: "Can it be possible that the Northern people are so ig-
norant as to have lost the traditionary rudiments of a free gov-
ernment?" His reply was, that he apprehended the Northern
mind really cared uotliing for liberty; what they desired was
only lucrative arrangements with other States.
The correctness of Colonel Baldwin's surmises concerning
COLONEL Baldwin's intfrview with mr. Lincoln. 07
the motives of Liiicohr.s policy receives these two confirmations.
After the return of tlie foi-mei- to Hichiiiond. rlie Conventiau
sent the commission, which lias heen described, composed of
Messrs. Wni. B. Preston, A. H. H. Stuart, and Geo. W. Ran-
dolph. They were to ascertain definitely what the J*resident's
policy was to be. They endeavjied to reach Washington in the
early part of the week in which Fort Sumter was bombarded,
but were delayed by storms and hi<ih wat(M-, so that they only
reached there via ]>altiniore, Friday, April 12th. They appear-
ed promptly at the White House, and were i)ut off until Satur-
day for their formal interview, although Lincoln saw them for
a short time. On Saturday Lincoln read to them a written an-
swer to the resolutions of Convention laid before him, which
was obviously scarcely dry fr:>m the pen of a clei-k. "This pa-
per," says ^Ir. Stuart, "was ambiguous and evasive, but in the
main professed jjeaceful intentions." Mr. Stuart, in answer to
this paper, sj)oke freely and at laroe, "ur<i:in<4- foi-bearance and
the evacuation of the forts, etc." Lincoln made the objection
that all the goods would be imported through the ports of
Charleston, etc., and the sources of revenue dried up. "I re-
member," says Mr. Stuart, "that he used this lumiely expres-
sion: 'If I do that, what will become of my revenue? I might
as well shut up housekeeping at once!' But his declarations
were distinctly jjacific, and he expressly disclaimed all purpose
of war." Mr. Seward and Mr. Bates, Attorney General, also
gave Mr. Stuart the same assurances of peace. The next day
the commissioners returned to Richmond, and the very train
on which they traveled carried Lincoln's j)roclanintion, calling
far the seventy-five thousand men to wage a war of coercion.
"This proclamation," says Mr. Stuart, "was carefully withheld
from us, although it was in print; and we knew nothing of it
until Monday morning, when it appeared in the Richmond pa-
pers. When I saw it at breakfast, I thought it n)ust be a mis-
chievous hoax; for I could not believe Lincoln guilty of such
duplicity. Firmly believing it was a forgery, I wrote a tele-
gram, at the breakfast table of the Exchange Hotel, and sent
it to Seward, asking him if it was genuine. Before Seward's
reply was received, the Fredericksburg train came in, bringing
the Washington papers, containing the proclamation."
The (tiher confirmation of Colonel liald win's hypothesis
98 COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mr. lincoli?.
was presented a few weeks after the end of the war, in a cur-
ious interview with a personal friend and apologist of Seward.
The first volume of my life of Jackson had been published in
London, in which I characterized the shameless lie told by
Heward to the commissioners from Montgomery, through Judge
Campbell, touching the evacuation of Sumter. This friend and
apologist of Seward said that I was unjust to him, because
when he promised the evacuation, he designed and thought him-
self able to fulfill it; but between the making and breaking of
the pledge, a total change of policy had been forced ujxtn the
administration, against Mr. Seward's advice, "by Thad. Stevens
and the radical Grovernors." Seward, abolitionist, and knave
as he was, still retained enough of the statesmanlike traditions
of the better days of the republic, to know that coercion was
unlawful, and that a war between the States was, of course, the
annihilation of the Union. It suited his partisan and selfish
designs to talk of an "irrepressible conflict," and to pretend
contempt for "effeminate slavocrats"; but he had sense enough
to know that the South would make a desperate defense of her
rights, and would be a most formidable adversary, if pushed to
the wall. Hence, Mr. Seward, with General Scott, had advised
a temporizing policy towards the Montgomery government,
without violence, and Mr. Lincoln had acceded to their policy.
Hence, the promises to Judge Campbell. Meantime, the radical
Governors came down, "having great wrath," to terrorize the
administration. They spoke in this strain : "Seward cries per-
petually 'that we must not do this, and that, for fear war should
result. Seward is shortsighted. War is precisely the thing we
should desire. Our party interests have everything to lose by a
peaceable settlement of this trouble, and everything to gain by
collision. For a generation we have been 'the outs'; now at
last we are 'the ins.' While in opposition, it was very well to
prate of Constitution, and of rights; but now we are the gov-
ernment, and mean to continue so; and our interest is to have
a strong and centralized government. It is high time now that
the government were revolutionized and consolidated, and these
irksome 'States' rights' wiped out. We need a strong govern-
ment to dispense much wealth and power to its adherents; we
want permanently high tariffs, to make the South tributary to
the North; and now these Southern fellows are giving us pre-
Colonel Baldwin's interview with mr. Lincoln. 99
cisely the opportunity we want to do all this, and shall iSewaid
sing his silly song of the necessity of avoiding war? War is the
very thing we should hail I The Southern men are rash, and
now profoundly irritated. Our plan should be, by some artifice,
to provake them to seem to strike the first blow. Then we
shall have a pretext with which to unite the now divided North,
and make them fly to arms. The Southerners are a braggart,
but a cowardly and effeminate set of bullies; we shall easily
whip them in three months. But this short war will be, if we
are wise, our sufficient occasion. We will use it to destroy
slavery, and thus permanently cripple the South. And that is
the stronghold of all these ideas of 'limited government' and
'rights of the people.' Crush the South, by abolisliiug slavery,
and we shall have all we want — a consolidated government, an
indefinite party ascendancy, and ability to lay on such 'tariffs
and taxes as we please, and aggrandize ourselves and our sec-
tion!"
These, Mr. Seward's apologist declared to me, were the
reasons which, together with their predictions and threats of
popular rage, converted Lincoln from the policy of Seward to
that of Stevens. Hence the former was compelled to break his
promise through Judge Campbell, and to assist in the malig-
nant stratagem by which the South Carolinians were con-
strained ''to fire on the tiag." The diabolical success of the ar-
tifice is well known.
The importance of this narrative is, that it unmasks the
true authors and nature of the bloody war through which we
have passed. We see that the Radicals provoked it, not to pre-
serve, but to destroy the Union. It demonstrates, effectually,
that Virginia and the border States were acting with better
faith to preserve the T^nion than was Lincoln's Cabinet. Colonel
Baldwin showed him conclusively that it was not free-soil, evil
as that was, which really endangered the T'nion. but coercion.
He showed him that, if coercion were relinquished, Mrginia
and the border States stood pledged to labor with him for the
restoration of I'nion, and would assuredly be able to effect it.
Eight slave-holding border States, with seventeen hireling
States, would certainly have wielded sufficient moral and ma-
terial weight, in the cause of what Lincoln professed to believe
the clear truth and right, to reassure and win back the seven
100 COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mr. Lincoln.
little seceded fc?tates, or, if they became lojstile, to restniin
them. But coercion arraigned fifteen against seventeen in mu-
tually destructive war. Lincoln acknowledged the conclusive-
ness of this reasoning in the agony of remorse and perplexity,
in the writhings and tearings of hair, of which Colonel Bald-
win was witness. But what was the decisive weight that turned
the scale against peace, and right, and patriotism? It was the
interest of a sectional taritf 1 His single objection, both to the
wise advice of Colonel Baldwin and Mr. Stuart, was: "Then
what would become of my tariffs?" He was shrewd enough to
see that the just and liberal free-trade policy proposed by the
Montgomery Government would speedily build up, by the help
of the magnificent ^Duthern staples, a beneficent foreign com-
merce through Confederate ports; that the Northern people,
whose lawless and mercenary character he understood, could
never be restrained from smuggling across the long open fron-
tier of the Confederacy; that thus the whole country would be-
come habituated to the benefits of free-trade, so that when the
schism was healed (as he knew it would be healed in a few years
by the policy of Virginia), it would be too late to restore the
iniquitious system of sectional plunder by tariffs, which his sec-
tion so much craved. Hence, when Virginia ofl'ered him a safe
way to preserve the Union, he preferred to destroy the Union
and preserve his tariffs. The war was conceived in duplicity,
and brought forth in iniquity.
The calculated treason of Lincoln's Radical advisers is yet
more glaring. When their own chosen leader, Seward, avowed
that there was no need for war, they deliberately and malig-
nantly practiced to produce war, for the purpose of overthrow-
ing the Constitution and the Union, to rear their own greedy
faction upon the ruins. This war, with all its crimes and mis-
eries, was proximately concocted in Washington City, by North-
ern men. ^^ith malice prepense.
THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR.
Wa all know, that tlie professed purpose of the war party
was to preserve and restore the Union over all the States. But
the disclosures made above hy Colonel Baldwin of the aims of
the head of that party, are sufficient to prove that the real pur-
l)ose was far Jther than the pretense: — to enlarge and perpetuate
the power of his faction. This had just seized the reins of
Federal power by an accident, being in fact but a minority of
the .American people. This people had condemned it to a
righteous exclusion from power for forty years. Its leaders
were weary, envious and angry with their long waiting, and
hungry for the power and the spoils of ottice. These cunning
men were fully conscious that their tenure of power, won by
luck and artifice, would be precarious and brief. The old party
of Federal usurpation and centralization had dubbed itself, by
a strong misnomer, the Whig party. The people, at ten presi-
dential elections, or congressional issues, had rejected their
pr )ject. At length, despairing of Wctory by its old tactics, it
had thrown itself into the arms of the later born and despicable
party of the Abolitionists, who iiad at last succeeded in their
purpose of raising, in numerous States, their designed tempest
of fanaticism. Thus the older and larger party gave itself
away to the younger, smaller, and more indecent one; and by
this traffic the two had won in November, 1800, an apparent
success, so far as to make its leader a minority President. The
manipulators well knew their danger from "the sober second
thought" of the American people. It was but too pi-obable
that the elements of justice and conservatism, unfortunately di-
vided in 1800. would reunite in 1801 to restore the Constitu-
tion. Hence, "had they great wrath," because they knew their
time was short. They knew that something more must be done
to ijitiiime the contest between fanatii-ism and conservatism, or
iiieir glorying would be short.
The hasty secession of South Carolina and the six Gulf
States, although justified by the avowed revolutionary section-
101
102 THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR.
alism of the new party in power, gave them their coveted oppor-
tunity. The conspirators said to each other: ''Now we have
our game. We will inflame fanaticism and sectional enmities
by the cry of Union and Kebellion, and thus precipitate a war
between ihe States. Inf^r armor silent leges. Our war will
be short; for we believe these Southern slavocrats much more
boastful than valiant; and. chiefly, we will paralyze their re-
sistance by lighting the fires of servile insurrection, plunder,
arson, rape and murder in their rear. Rut this short war will
suffice for us. to centralize Federal power, overthrow the Con-
stitution, fix our high tariffs and plutocratic fiscal system upon
the country and secure f^r ourselves an indefinite tenure of
power and riches.'' Such were precisely the counsels by which
such leaders as Senator Pomeroy, Mr. Thaddeus Stevens, Grov-
ernors Morton, Currin. Andrews, etc.. hectored the ignorant and
vacillating chief of their party into war, against the advice of
real Union men Xorth and vSouth, and especially against the
views of his own Premier, William H. Seward. This man,
while the most unscrupulous of trafficers, and the chief archi-
tect of the new faction, knew well, as did all statesmen and
constitutional lawyers, that the Constitution gave the Federal
Government, the creature of the Federated States, no right to
coerce the seceded States, its own sovereigns and creators. He
was older than his supplanters in his own faction, and however
unscrupulous, was too much imbued with the precedents, prin-
ciples and feelings of the older and better days, to bring him-
self at once to the atrocity of kindling a war between the
States; hence. Mr. Seward had adopted the smoother and wiser
policy. He had induced his chief to make an ambiguous de-
liverance in his inaugural. March 4. ISOl. He believed that he
would be able so to direct the plans of his presidential tool as
to make him adhere to the pacific jM^licy. P.ut he was mis-
taken. The more forward and heady conspirators gathered in
Washington, wrested his tool out of his hand, and turned it
against him.
These new advisers were aware that a Federal executive
had no more constitutional or legal right of his own motion to
attack a seceded State, than the poorest constable in the most
obscure township. But they were in too much haste to wait for
the semblance of authority from a congressional force bill, un-
THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR. 103
autlioi-ized and flimsy as such a semblance would be. Nor did
they feel certain that even their rump Congress would be per-
suaded to enact a war against sovereign States no longer in
the Federation, nor represented in their body, nor subject toM,
their jurisdiction. The Senators and Eepresentatives of seven
States would be absent; but those of the great Union-loving
Border States, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Kentucky,
Tennessee, Missouri and Arkansas, would be present. Such a
rump Congress might indeed include a number of the admirers
of Andrew Jackson, but they would be too just and clear sight-
ed to claim the precedent of his force bill of 18.38 against
South Carolina, even though they did not regard it. as true
history will, as the mere expression of a tyrannical temper and
of personal hatreds in that famous renegade to the principles
of the party which elected him. For that force bill was direct-
ed against a State which claimed to be still in the Union, while
nullifying within her own borders an unjust Federal law. It
was wholly another thing for the Federal Government to de-
clare war against seven seceded States, no longer under their
authority, but withdrawn from it by sovereign acts more for-
mal and legal than those which had made them parties to the
T'nion. Therefore the consj)irators saw that a war must be
precipitated without the semblance of law, and against law and
the Constitution. By what expedient? By that of an auda-
cious and gigantic lie I They knew that in fact every stej) and
act of self-defense taken by the seceded States had been an
act of formal, legal statehood executed by constitutional au-
thorities, the same, to-wit. which had first made those States
members of the Federal Union. But rhey would impudently
discard this great fact and call those actions illegal riots, the
doings of insurrectionary individuals assembled against the
law. They would rely upon the hot arrogance of triumphant
fanaticism and the revival of passions which they themselves
had "set on fire of hell." to overlook this essential difference.
Thus they would seemingly bring this terrible usurpation of
their President under the scope of his authority to enforce
laws and suppress illegal violence. So he was made to begin
his famous war proclamation of April, ISGl. which made the
most dreadful strife of modern times, with a stupendous false-
10-4 THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR.
li )()(!. On that foul fDundatioii rest all llu' subscijuciit ci'inies
(»f cuei'L-iou aud reconstruction.
That this war wa.s made, not to preserve a constitutional
Union, but solely to promote the aims of a faction, is continned
by these further facts. Its puriK)se was clearly betrayed by
the final re])ly of ^Ir. Lincoln to Colonel Baldwin's noble ap-
peal for conciliation: "What, then, will become of my tariff?''
He might as well have said out aloud, that he was making this
war, not to preserve a Union, but to enforce his projected high
taritt". Next, every thoughtful nnm. North and South, friend or
foe of the Tnion. knew perfectly well that the Montgoauery
Confederacy of seven States must be short lived if it remained
alone with:)ut the border States. If I may borrow a new term
of finance, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to
"freeze out" this weak association. By giving them a useless in-
dependence, making them feel the inconveniences of separation,
and holding peaceably and steadily before them the benefits
and j)rotection of the old. just c;)nstitutional T'nion. So 3Ir.
Seward knew; and on this belief his i)olicy was founded. So
the Virginian statesman and ardent lover of the I'nion, Alex-
ander H. Stewart, assured ^Ir. Line )ln. So Cohtnel Baldwin;
so ex-Governor Mjrehead. of Kentucky. My jxiint is then, that
the seven seceded States could have- been brought back with
certainty by pacific means. For the T'nion, no war was needed.
It was made solely in the interest of the Jacobin party.
Secessionists and L^nion men alike knew that the Mont-
gomei"y Confederacy could not stand, without the accession of
the great border States. But the latter were still firm friends
of the Union. They judged, like the secessionists, that the
abolition and free-soil movement was sectional, mischievous,
insulting, and perilous; but they had calmly resolved not to
make it a casus belli, wicked as it was. They had distinctly re-
fused to go out of the I'nion on that issue. They jtledged them-
selves to supi)ort ^Ir. Lincoln l(»yally and legally, though not
the President of their choice, and to conciliate the seceded
States provided the crime of coercion was foreborne. But they
assured Mr. Lincoln that this usur]>ati )n and crime would in-
fallibly drive them, though reluctant, into the secession camp.
Thi« made it perfectly plain that peace meant a restored Union,
while war meant disunion. But the Jacobins needed a war for
THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR. 105
their owu factious euds. There was nothing- they disliked so
much as a Union peaceably restored. Therefore they preferred
The tactics which would insure war. and that yu the most gigan-
tic scale, rarlun- than peace and union. Their problem was how
to make sure of the spilling of blood. Thus while those pa-
triotic and unii)n-loving statesmen, Messrs. Stewart and Bald-
win, were pleading with Mr. Lincoln not to coerce, because co-
ercion would precipitate certain disunion and a dreadful war,
they were })roducing upon the cunning and malignant minds of
the Jacobin leaders a conclusion exactly opposite to the one
they desired. Those minds said to themselves: "Just so;
therefore we will coerce, because it is wdv which we craA'e, and
not a righteous T'nion."
The history of the peace-congress confirms this explana-
tion. It will stand in all history to the everlasting glory of Vir-
ginia, that she proposed this assemblage, as a special agency
for harmonizing ditferences and restoring a true Union. She
sent to it her wisest patriots, irrespective of })aity, headed b\
the great ex-President, John Tyler, illustrious for hit-; exjier-
ience. purity, courtesy and fairness, lint the Jacobin leaders
had resoIv(Ml that there should be no peace; and this ^^^thout
waiting to see what terms of cunciliatiou iuight be f jund. It
is a historical fact, that definite instructit)ns went forth from
their head in advance, that the etforts of the Peace Congress
must be made abortive. The motive was not concealed: that the
partisan interests of the Jacobins were adverse tj such a peace.
Other leaders as Senators Chandler, of Michigan, and Wade, of
Ohio, etc., declared with brutal frankness, that the case requir-
ed bb)od-letting, instead of peace. Therefore, this last effort of
patriotism and love for the Union was an entire failure.
The withdrawal of the seven States from Congress left the
Jacobins a full working majority during the months of Jan-
uary and February. They had everything their own way in
Congress. But every effort for peace and union uu^de by the
patriotic minority, represented by Senator Cnttenden. of Ken-
tucky, was systenuitically repelled. Even when the coini)ro-
mises proposed were transparently wortliless to the South, they
were refused. The final word of Jacobinism was: "No com-
promise at all, fair or unfair, but absolute submission, or war
and disunion." The utmost pains were taken to teach the bor-
106 THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THK CIVIL WAR.
der States and the friends of the Union that they should have ni
terms save abject submission to such constructions as the Jaco-
bin party might see fit to put upon a rent and outraged Con-
stitution. The proof is complete.
Argument is scarcely needed to denunstrate that the in-
famous reconstruciion measures were taken, not in the inter-
ests of a true Union, but 'O-f this Jacobin faction. For their
architects brutally disdained to conceal their object. For in-
stance, one of their leaders, Alban Tourgee, in his "Fools Er-
rand," expressly declares that the purpose of reconstruction
was to elect another Jacobin President, otherwise jeopardized
by the reunited Democracy, thrnugh the help of the negro suff-
rage. And he declares that the ])roject was short-sighted, and
destined tD ultimate failure. Mr. Tourgee has here slandered
his brethren. Their reconstruction measures, in their sense of
them, were an entire success.— and did just what they designed.
— helped them to elect a series of Jacobin Presidents and to fix
their parties and policy upon the country. True; those measure.*?
placed the noblest white race on earth beneath the heels of a
foul minority constructed of a horde of black, semi-barbarous
ex-siaves and a gang of white jdunderers and renegades. It
infected the State governments of the South with corruption
and peculation. It injected into suffrage, in the Southern
States, a spreading poison, which gives a new impulse to the
corruptions of the ballot, already current among themselves,
so that the disease is now remediless. P>ut what did the Jaco-
bins care for that? They had gained their end. more Jacobin
Presidents, more class legislation, a surt^ reign for the plutoc-
racy.
According to ;Mr. Lincoln's theory, a State could nat go out
of the Union, and any act of secession is ipso facto void and
null, being but the deed of an illegal riot, and not of a legal
body. Hence all the States were legally in the Unian through-
out and after the war. Hence, when armed resistance ended,
nothing was necessary to reinstate the so-called seceding com-
monwealths in their full Federal status, except their submis-
sion to the chastisements and the changes laid down for them
by the will of their conquerors. The subjugated States had all
made that submission humbly and absolutely. Nothing should
have been wanting, therefore, to reinstate them, except the
TilE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR. 107
witness of the Chief Executive of these facts. That witness
had been borue expressly and fully by General Grant himself
and the President.
Mr. Lincoln's man Friday, Andrew Johnson, now President
by the accident of murder, continued to stand precisely upon
his master's avowed platform. Why not? The whole coercion
party professed to stand on it! The war had been fought
through upon that ipretended platform. Why should not An-
drew Johnson simply reinstate these chastened sisters in the
T'nion, by his executive action especially, seeing they had never
been out of it, could not be out of it, and had fully accepted
their chastisement? But that simple course meant the follow-
ing result: T/ie war Dttnocrats of the North, rallying the
Southern people to themselves, would elect a Democratic Presi-
dent! There is the whole rationale and cause of the infamy and
treason of reconstruction. And this explanation stamps the
whole war, with all its butcheries and miseries as a gigantic lie;
and this result has given a perfect justification to every measure
of resistance taken by the States assailed. Such was the final
judgment of that Union-lover and reluctant Confederate, that
great Christian soldier, Robert E. Lee, as he went down with
stately yet tragic steps, towards the toinb and the judgment bar
of the omniscient and holy God, in whom he believed.
Victoria, Texas, Dec, 189G.
THE DUTY OF THE HOUR.'
Yjun^ ffeiitleiiien of the Euiueueaii and niilaurliropic So-
cieties: I am here to-day in response not only to yonr call, but
lo an inijieraliyc^ spntinient. This is the sense of the value of
the younj; men of the South, and their claims upon every pa-
triot. When I remember how your class has lately striven and
<lied for us — liow this seat of learning;-, like every other slirine of
the Muses, was emptied at the call of a bleeding; country, I feel
that you have earned a claim ujion our symi)athies and aid,
wliich cannot be refused. Xor was this devotion of our youth
the less adminible — in my eyes it is only the more touchinji' —
because it has pleased the divine dis])oser. in his mysterious
and awful i)rovidence, to deny you that success which you
hoped. It has pleased Heaven tliat you should be so disappoint-
ed of your deserved victory, as tliat fools should say you have
bled in vain.
But be assured, that as the afflicted cliild is ever dearest to
the mother's heart, your disasters only cause your country to
l)ress you closer to her bosjni. Amid her cruel losses, her chil-
dren alone remain her last, as lier most pierious possession;
and it is only from their eneri-ies. their virtues, their forritude
under obloquy and oppression, that she hopes f;)r restoration.
We assuredly believe, young gentlemen, that no drop of blood,
generously shed in the right, ever wets our mother earth in vain.
Tlu^ vision of tlie harvest from this preci )us seed may tar-
ry, but in the end if will not fail; and we wait for it. The holy
struggle may meet with seeming overthrow. lUit if our im-
mediate hope is denied, amidst ihe manifold alternatives oi Al-
mighty Providence, some other iei()mi)ense is provided, which
will gladden and satisfy the hearts >f oui- chihli-en. if not ours,
in God's own time and place.
Now that this exi)ectation may net fail, it is mnnlful that
you cherish jealously, the virtues ami principles which ennoble
1. (Jommeucement Oration before the students of Davidson CoUcKe. June, 1868.
108
TriK DUTY OF THE HOTJU. lOO
your cause. Your steadfast and uudebauclied liearts uiusi \w
tlie nurturluii' soil to j)reserve tlie prfM-ious seed of uiai'tyr blood,
durin*;' tliis winter of disaster, tr» the appointed summer of its
resurrection. The ur<iency, the solemnity of this seasou of
darkness and dan<;er. warn me that it is no mere literary pas-
time, but a hijj;h and serious duty which should occupy this
hour. Pardon me, then, for passin«>- to a topic wliicli is fuuda-
mental, at once to the dearest liopes, of your country, and of its
dead heroes. I would employ this season of communion with
my youug fellow-citizens, in utterinjij my earnest warning to
them, of a danger and a duty arising out of the misfortunes of
our country — a danger most i)ortentous to a thoughtful mind,
a duty ]>eculiarly incumbent on educated men.
T/ii's danger may be expressed by the fearful force of con-
quest and despotism to degrade the spirit of the victims. The
correlated duty is that of anxiously preserving our integrity
and self-respect. A grajihic English traveller in the P^ast, de-
scribes the contrast, so striking to us, between' the cowering
spirit of the Orientals, and the numly independence of the citi-
zens 'O'f fr-ee States in Western Europe. These have been raised
in commonwealtlis wliicli avouch and protect the rights of in-
dividuals. They are accustomed to claim their chartered lib-
erties as an inviolable heritage. The injuries of power are met
by them, with moral indignation and the high purpose of re-
sistance.
J'ut the abject Syrian or Copt is affected no otherwise by
Turkish oppressions tlian by the incursions of nature's resist-
less forces: the whirlwind or the thuiulerbolt.
The only emotion excited is that of passive terror. He ac-
cepts the foulest wrong as his destiny, and almost his riglit. He
has no other thought than to crouch, and disarm the lash by
his submissiveness. And if any sentiment than that of helpless
panic, is excited, it is rather admiration of superior power than
righteous resentment against wrong. He who is the most ruth-
less among his masters is in his abject view the greatest.
When we remember the ancestry of these Orientals, w^e ask
with wonder w^iat has wrought this change? These are the
children of those P]gyptians who under Sesostris, pushed their
conquests from Thrace to furthest Iml, bt^youd the utmost
march of Alexander and wlio, under the Pharoahs, so i:)ng cou-
ilo
THE DtlTY OF THE HO tjR.
tested the empire of the world with the Assyrian. Or they are
the descendants of the conquering Saracens, who in hiter\ages
made all Europe tremble. Or these Jews who now kiss the
sword that slays them are the posterity of the heroes who, un-
der the Macabees, wrested their country from Antiochus,
against odds even, more fearful than Southern soldiers were
wont to breast. Whence, then, the change?
The answer is, this mournful degeneracy is the result of
ages of despatism. These base children of noble sires are but
living examples ol the rule, that not only the agents, but the
victims of unrighteous oppression, are usually degraded by
their unavenged wrongs: a law which our times renders so sig-
nificant to us.
Illustrations of the same rule also may be found in the
more familiar scenes of domestic life. Few observing men can
live to middle life without witnessing sad instances of it. We
recall, for instance, some nuptial scene, from the distance of a
score of years. We remember how the bridegroom led his
adored prize to the altar, elate with proud affection. We recall
the modest, trembling happiness of the bride, as she confi-
dently pledged away her heart, her all, to the chosen man whom
she trusted with an almost religious faith. Her step, diflSdeut
yet proud, the proprieties of her tasteful dress, her spotless
purity of person, her sparkling eyes, all bespoke self-respect,
aspiration, high hope, and noble love. They revealed the
thoughts of generous devotion with which her gentle breast
was filled.
Had one whispered at that hour, that the trusted man
would one day make a brutal use of the power she now so con-
fidently gave, she would have resented it as the foulest libel on
humanity. Had the prophet added, that she was destined to
submit, tamely and basely, to such brutality, she would have
repudiated this prediction also with scorn as an equal libel on
herself. But we pass over a score of years. We find the same
woman sitting in an untidy cabin, with a brood of squalid, neg-
lected children around her knees; her shoulders scantily cov-
ered with tawdry calico, her once shining hair now wound like
a wisp of hay into a foul knot. She is without aspiration, with-
out hope, without self-respect, almost without shame. What is
the explanation? She has been for years a drunkard's wife.
TliE bUtT Oi' TfiE HOtJil. Ill
She wa,s wholly innocent of her husband's fall. Long has she
endured unprovoked tyranny and abuse. Not seldom has she
been the helpless victim of blows from the hand which was
sworn to cherish her. Often has she meditated escape fronj
her degrading yoke; but the unanswerable plea of her helpless
children arrested her always. She has found herself tied to a
bondage where there was neither escape or resistance; and
these wrongs, this misery, has at last crushed her down into
the degraded woman we see. The truthfulness of this picture
will only be denied by those who judge from romance without
experience, not from facts.
We need only to look a little at the operations of moral
causes on man's nature to find the solution of these cases. We
are creatures of imitation and habit. Familiarit}' with any ob-
ject accustoms us to its lineaments. The effect of this ac-
quaintanceship to reconcile us to vice, has been expressed by
Pope in words too trite to need citation. And the fact that one
is the Injured object of repeated crimes does not exempt him
from this law, but, as will be shown, only subjects him the
more surely to it. Not only is every act of oppression a crime,
but the seasons of despotism are usually eras of profuse and
outbreaking crime. The baleful shadow of the t3'rant's throne
is the favorite haunt of every unclean bird and beast. And if
the oppressing power be the many-headed monster, a tyrant
faction, this is only more emphatically true. At such a time the
moral atmosphere is foul with evil example. The vision of
conscience is darkened and warped. The very air is unhealthy
even for the innocent soul.
For the common mind the standard of rectitude is almost
overthrown In the guilty confusion, liut this is the considera-
tion of least weight. A more momentous one is found in the
law of man's sensibilities. The natural reflex of injury or as-
sault upon us is resentment. This instinctive emotion has evi-
dently been designed by our Creator, as the protector of man
in this world of injustice. Its function is to energize his powers
for self defense. Uut its nature is active; In exertion is its life.
Closely connected with this is the sentiment of moral disappro-
bation for the wrong character of the act.
This emotion is the necessary correlative to approbation
for the right: so that the former cannot be blunted without
ll^ THE DUTY OF THK HOUR.
ecjually blunting the latter. The man who has ceased to feel
moral indignation for wrong has ceased to feel the claims of
virtue. Xor is there a valid reason for your insensibility to
evil, in the fact that you yourself are the object of it.
Now when a man is made the helpless rictim of frequent
wrongs when his misfortunes allow him nothing but passive
endurance, resentment and moral indignation give place to sim-
l)le fear. And this by two sure causes; not only is the very
power of sensibility worn away h\ these repeated and violent
abrasions; not only is the nature dulled by the perpetual vio-
lences to which it is subjected, but that activity being denied,
whicli is the necessary scope of these sentiments of resistance,
they are extinguished in their birth. The soul which first rose
against injustice with the quick and keen sense of wrong, and
heroic self-defense; at last loutaliztMl by its very injuries, sub-
sides into dull indifference or abject ]»anic. Should it not make
the thoughtful patriot shudder to com])are the present temi)er
of the people with that of the revolutionary sires, who be-
(juea tiled to us the liberties we have forfeited? \Mth how
quick and sensitive a jealousy, with what generous disdain did
they spurn at the imposition of a tax of a few^ pence, against
their rights as Englishmen; while we seek to reconcile aunselves
with a jest or sophism to wrongs a thousand fold as onerous.
In the words of IJurke, ''In other countries the people judge of
an ill principle in government only by an actual grievance;
here they anticipated the evil, and judged of the pressure of
the grievance by the badness of the principle. They augured
miisgo vera men t at a distance, and snuffed the reproacli of
tyranny in every tainted breeze." But we. their miserable chil-
dren, are compelled to inhabit the very miasm and stench of
extreme oppression, until oui- tainted nosti-ils almost refuse
the ■oflice, and leave us unconscious, while stiHed by the pol-
lution.
We need not go so far to find this startling contrast; we
Juive only to compare our present selves with ourselves a few
yt^ars ago to find fearful illustrations of the working of these
influences. Let us suppose that on the evening of July 21, 18(">1,
I had stood befoi'e that panting citizen soldiery, which had just
hurled back the onset of our gigantic foe, and that I had de-
nounced to them that seven short years would find them tamely
tllE DUTY OF TIIK HOUR. 113
acquiescing- iu rlie unutterable wrongs since heaped upon us:
in tlie insolent violation of every belligerent right, in the sack
of their homes, in the insult of their females, in the treacherous
arming of their own slaves, in their subjection to them; with
what anger and incredulity would they not have repelled me?
Let us suppose that I had made the imputation that some day
they would consent to survive such infamy: that it would be
possible for them to make any other election than that of
death, with their faces to the foe, rather than isuch a fate;
would they not have declared it a libel upon the glories of that
day, and upon the dead heroes, even then lying with their faces
to the sk}'? But we have consented to live under all this, and
are even now persuading ourselves to submit to yet more! Do
you remember that unutterable swelling of indignation aroused
in us by the first rumor of outrage to Southern women? How
that you felt your breasts must rend with anguish unless it
were solaced by some deeds of defense and righteous retribu-
tion? But we have since had so illstarred a tuition by a multi-
tude of more monstrous wrongs, that the slavish pulse is now
scarcely quickened by the story of the foulest iniquities heaped
upon a defenseless people. Thus does our own melancholy ex-
perience verify the reasonings given.
But, my hearers, this deterioration of the moral sensibili-
ties does not place man above the prouiptings of selfishness: it
rather subjects him more fully to them. We may not expect
that the sense of helplessness and fear will reconcile him to
suffer with passive fortitude, without a struggle. As well might
we look to see the panting stag bear the bit and spur with
(piietude. The instinct of self-preservation goads the oppressed
to attempt some evasion from their miseries; but their only re-
maining means is that common weapon of the weak against the
strong — artifice. Every down-trodden people is impelled al-
most irresistibly to seek escape from the injustice which can no
longer be resisted by force, th-rough the agency of concealments,
of duplicity, of lies, of perjuries. The government of the op-
pressor is therefore a school to train its victims in all the aris
of chicanery and meanness. Mark, I pray you, the cruel al-
ternative to which it shuts them u]). They must suffer with-
out human help or remedy, evils unrighteous, relentless, almost
intolerable; evils which outrage at once their well-being and
114 THE DtJTY OF THE HOUK.
their moral sense; or they must yield to temptation and seek
deceitful methods of escape. And the only motives to move
them to elect suffering rather than dishonor are the power of
conscience, the fear of God, and faith in the eventual awards of
His justice. What portion of any people may be expected to
persevere in this passive heroism without other support?
In answering" this question we must not forget the inex-
pressible seductiveness and plausibility of that temptation. It
pleads with the injured victim of wrong, that his oppressors
had no moral right to inflict these evils: That their injustice
and treachery forfeit all claim upon his conscience: That to de-
ceive them is but paying them as they desen'e in their own
coin. An embittered hatred, which pleads its excuse from a
thousand unprovoked injuries, impels the sufferer by a sting as
keen as living fire, to seek the revenge of deception: the only
one in his reach. And last, the specious maxim, "That neces-
sity knows no law," completes the triumph of the temptation
with the plea, that the endurance of this tyrant's unmitigated
will is impossible, and therefore the case justifies the means of
evasion.
Xow I need hardly pause, before this assembly, to say that
all this pretended argument is a guilty sophism. You know that,
however plausible it may be, it is grounded in a profane forget-
fulness of God, of his holy will, and of his omnipotent govern-
ment over oppressors and oppressed. You see how it involves
that maxim of delusion, of whose advocates the Apostle de-
clared "their damnation is just"; that the end sanctifies the
means. At the day when God shall bring him into judgment,
no man will dare to obtrude these specious pleas, for his viola-
tion of the eternal principles of truth and right— principles on
which repose the w^elfare of all creatures and the honor of God,
principles whose sanctity only finds illustrations in the very
evils which man experiences from their breach. But none the
less do we find anticipations of seduction verified by ten thou-
sand lamentable lapses from honor among our suffering people:
in their tampering with ensnaring and oppressive. oaths; in the
evasion of pecuniary obligations; in the deceitful avowal of
pretenses abhorrent at once to the political pride and principles
of our country. The facts are too melancholy to be pursued.
Meantime the efficiency of all these seductions is made
*HE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 1 15
more fearful by the causes wliicli hedge lour young men uji from
wholesome activities. There is no longer a career for their in-
dividual energies. Scarcely any profession offers a prize
worthy of their exertions. If they turn to agriculture, or the
pursuits of the merchant or artisan, the ruin of trade and the
crushing burden of unequal taxation compel them to labor for
a pittance. Hence the danger tliat they will succumb to an
apathetic despair. We see too many of our youth whose forti-
tude should sustain a fainting, sinking country, sitting down in
skeptical doubt to question the control of Divine Providence, or
sinking into an indolence which they persuade themselves is
inevitable, and seeking a degrading solace in epicurean ease.
Take heed, gentlemen, lest these insidious discouragements
transmute the sons of the heroes of Manassas and Shiloh, as the
despotism of arbitrary rulers has charge, into the modern Rom-
an. In the Eternal city we see the descendants of that race which
gave laws and civilization to a conquered world, now in tlie
words of their own sensual poet, '^Porci de grege Epicuti, cute
bene curata^'^ filling their idleness with the criticism of cooks
and singing women. Kather than risk the yielding to this, arise
and go forth, sturdy exiles, to carve out a new career on some
more propitious soil.
It has been made my duty by my appointed pursuits to ex-
amine the history of previous concpiesrs; and it is my deliberate
conviction that no civilized people have ever been subjected to
an ordeal of oppression so charged as ours with all the elements
of degradation. I have explained how the unrighteousness of
the despotism becomes a pottmr influence for temptation, ^^'e
experience a domination, the iniijuity of which is declared by
every patriot of every previous i)arty, and constantly avowed by
the very men that impose it uji to the day. when their reason
was swept away by the torrent of revenge and the lust of dom-
ination. Our people have been violently thrust down from the
proudest ancestral tradiiions. and highest freedom boasted by
any commonwealth on earlh, to the deepest humiliations and
most grinding exactions. They have been overpowered, not by
manly force, but by filthy lucre, whicli bribed the }»rolitaries of
the whole world to crush us. We stooped our banners, not like
the conquered Gaul and Briton to one who knew how, debellare
uperbos, forcere victis; but to a rabble w ho are not ashamed to
116 THE DUTY OF,THE HOUli.
confess that their fourfold numbers and tenfold resources were
unable to subdue us, until they had armed against us all the
mercenaries of Europe and our own poor slaves besides. And
to crown all, the favorite project is to subject us, not to the con-
queror only, but to these alien serfs, to be invested with our
plundered franchises. Thus are our people robbed not only of
their possessions and rights, but of their dearest point of honor.
Now, every one experienced of human nature knows that when
you break down the chosen point of honor, the man is degraded
to a brute unless he is sustained by the vital grace of God. Thus
it appears that the influences and temptations by which con-
quest depraves its victims are now applied to our people in
their most malignant efficacy. The lesson which we should
learn from this fact is that we should be watchful in an equal
degree to preserve our own rectitude and honor.
For, young gentlemen, as the true dishonor of defeat lies
only in this deterioration of spirit, so it is the direst wrong
which the injustice of the conqueror can inflict. A brave people
may, for a time, be overpowered b}' brute force, and be neither
dishonored nor destroyed. Its life is not in the outward organ-
ization of its institutions. It may be stripped of these and clothe
itself in some diverse garb, in which it may resume its growth.
But if the spirit of independence and honor be lost among the
people, this is the death of the common weal: a death on which
there waits no resurrection. Dread, then, this degradation of
spirit as worse than defeat, than subjugation, than poverty,
than hardship, than prison, than death.
The law on which I have commented has ever appeared to
me the most awful and obscure of all those which regulate the
divine providence over men and nations. That the ruthless
wrong-doer should be depraved in his own soul by his crimes,
that he should find a part of his just penalty in the disorders
and remorse infused in his own nature by his acts; this is a dis-
pensation as adorably righteous as it is terrible. But that not
only guilty agent, but guiltless victim should, by a law, almost
natural, find his moral being broken down; that a necessity
which his will had no agency in procuring should subject his
heart to an ordeal so usually disastrous:— this is indeed fearful.
''Clouds and darkness" here surround him. Yet "justice and
judgment are the habitation of his throne." One thing I cleariy
THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 117
infer hence, that he has ordained the virtuous man's life in
this wiclced world, to be often a battle, in which he may be
called "to resist unto blood, striving against sin." We learn
from these mournful histories how it may be our duty to sur-
render life, rather than conscience and moral independence.
Man's first duty to himself is the preservation of his own vir-
tue. His prime duty to his God may be said to be the same.
For how shall the depraved creature fulfill that "chief end,"
lilorifying God? With no little seeming then was it argued of
old, that a dishonored life was no life indeed; so that the im-
position of unavoidable degradation of soul was equivalent to
the Maimer's decree dismissing us out of tlie scene of defiled ex-
istence. Here is the most plausible excuse of that antique self-
sacrifice, by which the heroic souls of the Pagan world claimed
the privilege of escaping subjugation, and defying the oppres-
sor by a voluntary grave. For they knew not the only power by
which the inw^ard stain of oppression can be countervailed.
They had never heard of gospel grace; of regeneration and
adoption; of a hope anchored beyond the grave; of a reward in
glory ennobling all suffering and endurance for conscience sake.
Let us not, however, palliate the errar of those who thus re
tired from life's battle without the word of supreme command
of the Captain. But from this danger of the soul's subjugation
along with that of the body, we may infer the duty and privi-
lege of preferring the surrender of life ti the desertion of duty.
It is yours, young gentlemen, to boast among the alumni of
your college, more than one illustrious instance of this fate,
which may prove so enviable compared with ours. First among
these, I am reminded of one, whose youthful face, then ruddy
as that of the hero of Bethlehem, is filed in the memories of my
first visit here. General Ramseur. Nowhere, in the rich record
of Southern chivalry, can there be found the name of one who
nu)re deliberately resolved for death rather than forfeiture of
duty and honor. Twice within a few weeks, at Winchester and
Fisher's Hill, his command had yielded to numbers, in spite of
his most strenuous and daring exertion. On the morning of
the battle of Belle Plain, which began so gloriously for the Con-
federates, while marshalling his troops for the strife, he ex-
horted them to stand to their colors, and calmly declared that if
they had any value for his life they would henceforward be
118 THE DUTY OF THE HOUR.
staunch; for lie was resolved never to participate with them in
another flight from their foes. It was with this deliberate pur-
pose he joined battle. But as the bravest are ever the most
gentle, this stern resolve did not exclude the thought of the do-
mestic tie, which his country's call had sundered almost as soon
as it was bound around his heart, and of the infant which had
never received its father's kiss. His courage was only rein-
forced by these remembrances. For. as he began the onset, in
the second movement of the tragedy, he exclaimed to the offi-
cers near him, "Now, gentlemen, let us sd fight to-day as to
finish this campaign; I want to see my first born." After per-
forming his whole duty during the changeful day, he saw all
the line upon his left giving way. AVith his own command he
strove to stem the torrent of enemies; and when they, too, broke
in panic he refused to tlee with them, but busied himself in
rallying a few determined spirits like himself. When the last
fugitive left the field they saw him with a handful, breasting
the whole jmrsuing h )st. until, according to his pledge, he fell
with his face to the foe. Let this example inspire you to endure
as he fought, and you will be secure against all the degradations
of defeat.
This degradation, then, does not necessarily accompany
our prostrate condition. Divine I'ravidence often makes the
furnace of persecution the place of cleansing for individual
saints. Why may it not be so for a Christian people*? Why
may not a race of men come forth from their trials, like the gold
seven times refined in the fire, with their pride chastened, and
yet their virtues purified'? This can be from the only cause
which sanctifies the sufferings of the Christian, the inworkings
of the grace of God. Nothing is more true than that the natural
effect of mere pain is not to purify, but tj harden the sinful
heart of man. exasperating at once its evils and its miseries.
The cleansing Word and Spirit of God alone interpret its suf-
ferings to it and convert them into healthful medicines of its
faults. So it is the power of true Christianity, and that alone,
which can minister to us as a people the wholesome uses of ad-
versity. The salvation of the life of the Southern society must
be found by taking the Word of God as our constant guide.
But it may be asked: To what course of action should this
spirit of unyielding integrity prompt us? The answer from
THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 119
those infallible oracles is easy. While you refrain from the
suggestion of revenge and dispair, and give place as of neces-
sity to inexorable force, resolve to abate nothing, to concede
nothing of righteous conviction. Truckle to no falsehood and
conceal no true principle; but ever assert the right with such
means of endurance, iself-sacrifice and passive fortitude as the
dispensation of Providence has left you. If wholesale wrongs
must be perpetrated, if wholesale rights must be trampled on,
let our assailants do the whole w^ork and incur the whole guilt.
Resolve that no losses, nor threats, nor penalties, shall ever
make you yield one jot or tittle of the true or just in principle,
or submit to personal dishonor. And let us remember, young
gentlemen, that while events, the success of ruthless power, the
overthrow of innocence may greatly modify the expedient, '^hey
have no concern whatever in determining the right. The death
of a beloved child may determine its mother to bury its decay-
ing body out of sight, even to hide in the wintry earth that
which before she cherished in her bosom; but its death will
never make the true mother repudiate its relation of paternity
to it, or deny its memory, or to acquiesce in any slander upon its
filial loveliness. You must decide, then, each one for himself,
what things must be conceded to the necessities of new events,
and what things must be disclaimed as contaminating to the un-
conquered soul. May I not safely advise, that, in making these
decisions you should always refer them to that standard of
judgment which we held before our disasters, as the truer and
worthier one; rather than to that standard to which we are
seduced by their humiliations? Judge then from the same prin-
ciples (however new their special applications) from which you
would have judged in happier years when your souls were in-
spired by the glorious traditions of your free forefathers, and
saw the truth in the clear light of your conscious manhood; not
as men would have you judge, from hearts debauched by de-
feat, and clouded with shame and despair.
We are a beaten, conquered people, gentlemen, and yet if
we are true to ourselves, we have no cause for humiliation,
however much for deep sorrow. It is only the atheist who
adopts success as the criterion of right. It is not a new thing
In the history of men that God appoints to the brave and true
the stern task of contending and falling in a righteous quarrel.
120 THE DUTY OF THE HOUR.
Would you find the grandest of all nanie.s upon the roll of time?
You must seek them among this "noble arm}- of mai't3'rs/'
whose faith in God and the right was stronger than death and
defeat. Let the besotted foals saj that our dead have fallen in
a ''lost cause." Let abandoned defamers and pulpit buffoons
sjay that theirs are "dishonored graves." I see them lie in their
glor\- with an illustrious eomfjany: with the magnanimous
Prince Jonathan, on Mount Gilboa. and the good king Josiah
in the vale of Megiddo; with Demo.stheues and Philopoemen;
with Hannibal, the pillar of Carthage; with Brutus and Cato;
with the British Queen, Boadicea; with the Teuton Herman;
with Harold, the Saxon, on Hastings field; with Wallace, with
Kosciusko; with one grander than all, our own Jackson. We
have no need, sirs, to be ashamed of our dead; let us see to it
that they be not ashamed of us. They have won the happier
fate, ''taken away from the evil to come, they have entered into
peace; they rest in their beds, each one walking in their up-
rightness." To us they have bequeathed the sterner trial of as-
serting, by our unshaken fortitude under overthrow, the princi-
ples which they baptized with their blood. I^t the same .spirit
which nerved them to do. nerve us to endure for the right; and
they will not disdain our companionship on the rolls of fame.
Before I end, let me invoke the aid of the gentler sex, whose
sympathizing presence I see gracing our solemnities. The high
mission of woman in society has been often and justly argued.
But never before was the welfare of a people so dependent on
their mothers, wives and sisters, as now and here. I freely de-
clare that under God my chief hope for my prostrate country is
in their women. Early in the war, when the stream of our
noblest blood began to flow so liberally in battle, I said to an
honored citizen of my State, that it was so uniformly our best
men wha were made the sacrifice there was reason to fear that
the staple and pith of the people of the South would be per-
manently depreciated. His reply was: "There is no danger of
this while the women of the South are what they are. Be as-
sured the mothers will not permit the oftspring of such martyr-
sires to depreciate."
But since, this river of generous blood, has swelled into a
flood. What is worse, the remnant of the survivors, few, sub-
jugated, disheartened, almost despairing and, alas, dishonored,
THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 121
because the.v have uot disdained life, uu such terms as are left
us; are subjected to every influeuce from without, whicli cau be
maliiiuantly devised to sap the fouudatijns of their manhood
and degrade them into fit materials for slaves. If our women
do not sustain them they will sink. Unless the spirits which
rule and cheer their homes can reanimate their self-respect, con-
firm their resolve, and sustain their personal honor, they will
at length become the base serfs their enemies desire. Outside
thcnr homes, everything conspires to depress, to tempt, to seduce
them. Do they advert to their business affairs? They see be-
fore them only loss, embarrassment, and prospective destitu-
tion. To the p9litics of their country? They witness a scheme
of domination and mercenary subserviency where the sacrifice
'of honor is the uniform condition of success. Only within their
homes is there, beneath the skies, one ray of light or warmth
to prevent their freezing into despair.
TJiere, in your homes, is your domain. There y^?^ rule with
the sceptre of affection, and not our conquerors. We beseech
you, wield that gentle empire in behalf of the principles, the
patriotism, the religion, which we inherited from our mothers.
Teach our ruder sex that only by a deathless love to these can
woman's dear love be deserved or won. Him who is true to
these crown with your favor. Let the wretch who betrays them
be exiled forever from the paradi.se of your arms. Then shall
we be saved, saved from a degradation fouler than the grave.
Tie it yours to nurse witli more than a vestal's watchfulness, the
sacred flame of our virtue now sj smothered. Your task is un-
obtrusive; it is fperformed in the privacy of home, and by the
gentle touches of daily love. But it is the noblest work which
mortal can perform, for it furnishes the polished stanes, with
which the temple of our liberties must be repaired. We have
seen men building a lofty pile of sculptured marble, where
columns with polished shafts pointed to the skies, and domes
reared their arches on high, like mimic heavens. They swung
tlu^ massive blocks into their places on the walls with cranes
and cables, with shout and outcries, and hugh creaking of the
ponderous machinery. But these were not the true artisans:
they were but rude laborers. Tlie true artists, whose priceless
cunning was to give immortal beauty to the pile, and teach the
dead stones to breathe majesty and grace were uot there. None
122 THE DUTY OF THE HOUR.
saw or heard their hibors. In distant and cjniet workrotnns,
where no eye watclied them, and no sliout jiavo ,sij;nal of tlieii'
motions, they plied their patient cliisels ishiwly with genth^
touches, evoking- the forms of beauty which hiy liid in the blocks
before them. Such is your work; the home and fireside are the
scenes of your industry. But the materials which you shape are
the souls of men, which are to compose the fabric of our church
and state. The jiolitician, the professional man, is but the
cheap, rude, day laborer, who moves and lifts the finislied block
to its place. You are the true artists, who endue it with fitness
and beauty; and therefore vours is the nobler task.
THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION'
\vt'. VI. — 1. Preliminary Report on the Eigth Census, 1800.
By Jos. C G. Kennedy, Superintendent. Washington:
Government Printing Ottice. 1862.
2. Message from the President of the United States to the two
Houses ff Congress, at the ("oniniencement of the Second
Session of tlie Thirty-eighth Congress; with tlie Reports
of the Heads of Departments, and Selections from accom-
panying Documents. Washington: Government Printing
Office. 1864.
The ability of a people for military exploits depends, in
modern times, upon two classes of circumstances, the material
aud the moral. Among the former, the most important are, the
numbers of its poi)ulation, the magnitude of its revenues, its
manufactures, commerce, and agriculture, and its geographical
position. The moral qualities which make a military nation
are, natural bravery, love of glory, intelligence, independence,
fortitude, and, above all, virtue and devout religious faith.
The authors and ])oliticiau;s of the North usually point,
with much exultation, to the war against the Confederate
States, which closed in 1865, as a splendid proof of their mili-
tary prowess. Since that triumph, it has been customary with
them to claim that the Ignited States stand in the first rank, if
not at the head of the great military powers of Christendom;
and that they may safely venture to cope with the greatest of
those powers. That war is su])posed to prove that the TTnited
States are able, with ease, to place a million of combatants in
the field, and a jtowerful navy upon tlie water, for any contest
which affects the national heart. We propose to bnng this
boast to the test, by a review of some facts and figures, touch-
ing th(- jtarties to the recent Avar. We hope thus to reach a
correct estimate of the real material resources of the United
States for a great war, at this time, and of the aptitude which
1 Appearefl in Southern Review. Baltimore. Oct, 1869
133
124 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
the Northern people have disclosed for iiiilitarv enterprises.
The first fousideration is obviously a comparisan of the
population and prL>duetion of the two parties tp the late con-
test. According to the census of 1800 (the year before the con-
test began), as prepared by the North itself, the Northern States
and territories had then a population of twenty-two million
eight hundred and seventj'-seven thousand (22,877,000). This
aggregate includes a few hundreds of thousands of negroes, but
none of the Indian tribes. The Confederate States had a pop-
ulation of eight million seven hundred and thirty-three thou-
sand (8,733,000). But of these, three million six hundred and
sixty-four thousand (3,064,000) were negroes; so that if they
are deducted, we have only five million (5,000,000) whites to
sustain the struggle against twenty-two million, (22,000,000).
Northern politicians are bound to admit the fairness of at least
such a deduction; because they uniformly say that slavery is a
weakening institution, inimical to national strength. We, in-
deed always argued (wliat this war abundantly confirmed) that
a slave-holding nation was stronger for war than a hired-labor
State, of numbers ecjual to the free and slave together; because
the devotion of the bondmen to productive laboi- both released
a large number of freemen for military employments, and gave
them a higher tone. But the Northern statesman cannot use
this plea; because he has always denied these facts, and assert-
ed the contrary. He is therefore obliged to count out the
Southern slaves, and to compare the belligerents as five mil-
lion (5,000,000) against twenty-two million (22,000,000). He is
obliged, also, to estimate these five million (5,000,000) as a peo-
ple far inferior to the rest of Christendom, in their morale; for
has he not proved to his own satisfaction, in his descants on the
'barbarism of slavei-y,' that this institution invariably renders
the masters lazy, effeminate, selfish, petulant, and insubordin-
ate? The case which we have to inspect is, therefore, for the
North, this: that twenty two millions (22,000,000) ot tlie best
people in Christendom managed souuliow to beat five millions
(5,000,000) of the meanest.
In this estimate of numbers, we have not counted Kentucky
or Missouri as Confederate States. Both parties claimed them;
the North actually possessed them, during the whole war, with
their territories, resources, and population. A few thousand
THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 1 SK
from each State preferred exile to subjugation, and enlisted in
the Confederate armies. These, with the recruits from Mary-
land, were far more than counterbalanced by the large defec-
tions from the Confederate cause in East Tennessee, Northern
Arkansas, Western Xortli Carolina, and Northwestern Vir-
ginia.
But we have not yet reached the fair comparison of mater-
ial strength. The campaigns of 18()1 w^re only tenative; the
real *'tug of war" had not yet come. But before May, 1862, the
Northern armies were in permanent occupancy of all Western
and Middle Tennessee, of nearly the whole of Louisiana, of
parts of Florida, of the coast of South and North Carolina, of
Eastern and Northern Virginia. This occupation continued
until the end of the war. The population thus excluded from
the support of the Confederate cause cannot be exactly esti-
mated; but it was certainly more than twelve hundred thou
sand (1,200,000). Thus the Confederates bore all the real
brunt of the struggle, with three million eight hundred thou-
sand (3,800,000) white people. The fighting men were not ab-
solutely limited to this source, for some of them came from
within the hostile lines; but, of course, no material resources,
and few men, could be relied on from a territory in the perma-
nent occupancy of the enemy. The real problem which was
solved, then, was. how twenty-two million (22,000,00(0 of the
best people in Christendom managed, in three years, to beat
three million eight hundred thousand (3,800,0(H)) of the mean-
est.
But the material resources were even more unequal than
the numbers. The Confederate States were rather planting
than agricultural communities; their customary industry pro-
duced rather those things which are the basis of Northern com-
merce, than the wheat, the beef, the wool, the horses, which
sustain large armies. The North had far the larger portion of
the commerce and manufacturing arts. It retained the nation-
al army, navy, arsenals, treasury, government. The South had
all these to create, in the progress of the struggle.
But, secondly, it is pleaded that a people inhabiting a large
country, have, in their forests, i-ivers, mountains, and especially
in the distances which armies must pass over, a defense against
the invader, which almost compensates for any inferi uity of
12G THE UNITP.D STATES AS A MILITARY NATlO^t.
force. This argumeDt was not true, iu the case of the Confed-
erate people. Xew circuDistances, with their geographical
position, wholly neutralized these advantages. Of these, one
was the advantage which th'e invader had of railroads; by which
he almost annihilated distance, and overcame weight and bulk,
in transporting the materiel of war. The Confederate States
were sufiflciently supplied with railroads for all the military
purposes of the invader. Ketreating armies usually attempted,
of course, to dismantle these roads; but the repair of any dam-
age thus hastily done, was eas}' and quick work to a numerous
people, abounding in industrious mechanics, and iu machinery
and materials. Thus, as an invading army was enabled by its
military successes to advance, the captured raih'Dads in its rear,
•quickly repaired, and easily defended, brought its base of ope-
rations i^ractically up to its rear. It was, thus, relieved of this,
formerh', the great difficult}' of extended invasion.
The decisive circumstance which robbed the South of the
defensive advantages of its wide territory was, the superiority
of its enemies up3n the water. The North retained the use of
the whole national navy. While the South was chiefly a plant-
ing community, the North was manufacturing and maritime.
Hence the multiplication of ships and sailors, which continued
and increased her naval superiority, was easy and rapid for her.
This cause also enabled her, by her blockade, to exclude the
Confederates from all f jreign sources of supply. The naviga-
ble water was therefore, all, the territory of the North. The
ocean and the gulf, which bounded two sides of the Con-
federate States, belonged to their invaders, furnishing them a
cheap and swift way of approach, secure from assault. This
fact rendered the whole sea and gulf shores bases of opera-
tions for Federal armies. It made all an exposed frontier, and
brought the enemy upon it all, as though he had embraced
these two sides, as he did the other two, with conterminous
territodes of his own. The reader may represent to himself
the significance Df this fact, by imagining the inland kingdom
of Bavaria assailed at once on four sides, by Austria, Switzer-
land, and the German States, all united under a single will.
The professional soldier will comprehend the disastrous position
of the invaded country, wlien he considers that the invader
thus had two pairs of bases of operations, at right angles to
tHE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. \'>7
each other; whence it resulted that from whatever interior
base a Confederate arniv might set out to defend its frontier,
its line of operations must needs be exposed, paralh'l to one of
these Federal bases, and liable to be struck at right angles, by
a force advancing from it.
But, worse than this, the Confederate territories were pene-
trated, in nearly every part, by navigable rivers, opening either
into the sea, which was the territory of the North, or into the
Northern frontier. On the east, the Potomac, the Rappahan-
nock, the York, the James, the Roanoke, the Neuse, the Cape
Fear, the Savannah, and on the south, the St. John's, the Ala-
bama, the Brazos, stretched their navigable waters far into the
interior; while the Mississippi, which is itself an inland sea,
floating the greatest war-ships, jjassed out oi the United States
below Cairo, through the midst of the Confederacy, to the Gulf,
which, again, belonged to its enemies. The Tennessee and the
Cumberland, with their mouths opening upon the Northern
frontier, in winter navigable for warships, as well as trans-
ports, curved inwards, near the heart of the Eastern quarter.
The Arkansas and Red rivers opened the States west of the Mis-
sissippi. The difficulties of invasion were also unexpectedly re-
moved, for the North, by the new decision given to the ques-
tion, whether shore-batteries could command a channel against
ships of war. Military authorities had usually answered this
question in the affirmative. The answer was now reversed in
favor of the North. When ships were only of wood, and pro-
pelled only by winds, a motive power gentle (except when it as-
sumes the unmanageable violence of the tempest), variable, and
uncertain, artillerists might well boast that shore-batteries
would usually destroy the ships opposed to them. But when
the ship has within itself an unfailing motive power, as steady
as the breeze and as swift as the tempest, and when it is coated
with an iron plating, which, if not absolutely impervious to
cannon-shots, at least delays for a long time the ruin of the
frainework, all is changed; it may expect to brave the bullets
of shore-batteries with impunity, and to pass them without the
rroi:bl. of silencing them. Thus, the forts designed to proteci
New Orleans, Mein]»his, and Vicksburg, were, in each case,
passed by the Federal steamers without being reduced; and
that which thev were designed to defend was seized in spite of
128 THE UNITED STATES ASA MILITARY NATION.
them; so that rlieir leteution became useless or impracticable.
Xow the naval supremacy of the North having been assert-
ed upon all these streams, it was the least part of the evil, that
all their fertile valle3's were exj)osed to ravage, and the wealthy
cities on their Banks, to capture. Each of the rivers became a
new and secure base of operations for invading armies. Diffi-
culties of distance were almost annihilated. Xo interior base
from which C3nfederate armies could operate toward their own
frontiers, to extrude the invader, remained secure from attack
from one or another of these rivers. Hence it was, that defen-
sive victories were usually fruitless of permanent results.
The justice of this view is sustained by the fact that all the
rivers 7vere opened to the ingress of Northern armies and fleets
(save a small portion of the Mississippi between Vick^burg and
Port Hudson) without much difficulty, and before the real
"tug of war" began. By May, 1862, they were all occupied;
and the illusory advantages of territory and distance for the
invaded, were all lost. The extent of the Confederate territory
no longer interposed an}' difficulty to the invaders, except the
demand for a plenty of money and mechanics.
The M/r^subject of comparison is, obviously, the size of the
armaments which the rivals were able to put into the field. To
appreciate the amazing disproportion, the reader must ponder
a few figures. According to the report of the Adjutant General
of the United States, two million five hundred and thirty thou-
sand (2,530,000) soldiers were employed by laud, during the
course of the war. The whole population of the North subject
to military duty, but not in service, had also been enrolled, and
the number was found to be two million seven hundred and
eighty-four thousand (2,784,000). These facts reveal the curious
result (of which use will be made hereafter), that, had no for-
eigners been employed in their armies, the North would have
had, on land, neariy half (2,530,000 against 2,784,000) of their
whole male population of military age, actually under arms.
But the actual strength of their armies, at the close of the war,
is very accurately fixed by the returns of volunteers mustered
out of service. These were one million thirty-four thousand
(1,034,000). So that, adding the regular army, we find that
they employed, at one time, one million seventy-two thousand
five hundred (1,072,500) combatants, on laud, ''to crush the
THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 129
ivlK'llion.'" Tims, something- more than one doughty warrior to
every four white Confederate souls (including all the soldiers,
:ild men, sick, women, children, babies, and cowards), and at
least one fighting man to every two Confederate souls adhering
in any sense to that government during the whole of the last
year of the war, were required to conquer their resistance!
This vast host was served by one horse or mule fur every two
men in the field; and it destroyed draught animals at the aver-
age rate of five hundred (50()) per day. It was ministered to
by one thousand and eighty (1,080) sea and river transports,
at a daily cost of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars
(1120,000) for their navigation alone. It was furnished during
rhe war with nearly eight thousand (8,000) cannons, and nearly
twelve millions (12,000,000) of small arms; while the masses of
cartridges, shot, shell, and gunpowder were fabulous.
To the efforts of this Xerxean ho.^t must be added those of
the navy of the United States. This arm employed, in the
course of the war, one hundred and twenty-six thousand five
hundred and fifty-three (12(),55;i) sailors and marines; besides
the countless mechanics and servants about the naval arsenals
and depots. T'he Report of the Secretary, under date of Decem-
ber 5, 1864, gives the following "General exhibit of the navy,
including vessels under constructian," to-wit:
No. (luns. Tons.
118 Screw steamers especially constructed for
naval purposes 1,120 1(59,231
52 Paddle-wheel steamers es'i>ecially construct-
ed for naval purposes 521 51,878
71 Iron-clad vessels 275 80,596
119 Screw steamers, purchased, captured, etc.,
fitted for naval purposes 611 60,380
171 Paddle-wheel steamers, purchased, captui--
ed, etc., fitted for naval purposes 921 78,762
112 Sailing vessels of all classes 850 69,549
671 Total 4,()10 510,396
588 T )tal navy, December, 18(13 4,443 4(57.967
83 Actual increase for the year 167 42,429
Now against these, place the following numbers of the Con-
130 THE UNITKD STATES AS A MILITARY NAtIoN.
federate armies. The aggregate of all the levies made during
the whole war. was about equal to the available force present
for duty at one time with their enemies; that is; to say, about
six hundred and sixty thousand (660,000), or one-fourth the
whole number enlisted by the North during the war. If we
estimated the Confederate force effective for duty at any one
time by this ratio we ishould give them less than one hundred
and twenty-five thousand (125,000) soldiers in actual service,
the day their armies were strongest. When we remember that
many of their levies were from districts soon occupied perma-
nently by their enemies, to which therefore no provost-marshal
could ever go to reclaim absentees, we might reasonably con-
clude that the number of Confederates actually in the field at
any one time bore a still smaller ratio to the total of levies.
But the superiority of the Confederate administration, with
the higher patriotism of the people, wonderfully couutei-poised
this disadvantage, and enabled the government to present, in
May, 1864, about two hundred and sixty-four thousand
(264,000) combatants to Mr. Lincoln's nine hundred and sev-
enty thousand (1)70,000), the number he had under arms at that
time. But it was impossible for the Confederacy to mobilize,
for campaigning, as large a ratio as their enemy did. They had
the same length of frontier to guard; they were therefore com-
pelled to reserve for garrisons and posts a far larger part rela-
tively to their whole force. Hence, while General Grant, as
commander-in-chief, was able to put in the field, for aggressive
purposes, six hundred and twenty thousand (620,000) men in
May, 1864, Mr. Davis opposed him with about one hundred and
twenty-five thousand (125,000) in the several active armies.
The disproportion of forces, and the relative character of
the rival armies, may also be illustrated by the numbers actually
arraj'ed against each other in several battles. At the critical
turn of the first battle of Manassas, the official reports of Gen-
erals McDowell and Beauregard show that the decisive grapple
for the key of the battle-field was made by six thousand five
hundred (6,500) Confederates against twenty thousand (20,000)
United States troops, including several regiments of regulars.
The Confederates won it. At Sharpsburg, thirty-three thousand
(33,000) Confederates repulsed ninety thousand (1)0,000) Federal-
ists. At Chancellorsville, thirty-five thousand (35,000) Confed-
THE UNITED STATS'^ AS A MILITARY XATIO>r. 131
erates beat Gen. Hooker, witli the "tiuest anuy upjii tlie planet."
In the Wilderness, Gen. Lee met (Jen. (Irant's one liundred and
forty-two th'onsand (142,000) with tifty, tlionsand (50,000) and
withont any accessions to this nnniber, continued to breast the
Federal ai-niy increased (save as the Confederate shot had thin-
ned it) by sixty thomsand ((10,000) more. In the battle of Win-
chester, in the autumn of 1S(>4, Sheridan only won a dearly
boug-ht victory from Gen. Early, by hurling tifty thousand (50,-
000) npcni his twelve thousand (12,000.) In the clo.siing struggle
(xen. Lee's thirty-three thousand (.'W.OOO) w(M-e not dislodged
fram Petersburg and Richmond until their assailants were
again increased to one hundrtnl and eighty tin)usand (180,000.)
And finally, the remnant of Lee's heroic army did not surrender
to this enormous host until it wa.s reduced to less than eight
thousand (S,000) muskets. Tlu^ aggregate of men i>aroled at
Appomattox was made up of s;)nie twenty or more thousand
(20,000) stragglei-s, and men on detached service, who came in,
to avail themselves of tlie suj)posed ])acificatioii, after the ter-
mination of military ojterations.
To this disparity of forces upon land, and overwhelming su-
periority upon the water, must be added the advantages
derived by the North from theii- blockade. This crippled the
Ganfederaey, both in its military and in its financial efforts.
The true basis for credit, upon whidi alone the ''sinews of war"
could have been borrowed in Euro])e (where alone they existed
for the new government) was in the Southei-n cotton and
tobacco. ^Ir. Davis's administration sliDuld have had not only
the large and jii-eeious crop of ISOO, but an (Mpial cioj) in 1861,
and successive ones in 18(52 and 18(5.'^ only diminished in bulk,
but enhanced in price, upon whidi to found, at once, a system
of foreign loans, and an all-i>ersuading motive f :>r foreign recog-
nition. Only in L8(il, did tlie stress of domestic wants become
ISO urgent as to arrest all other tillage, for the production of
])rovisions. Now the blockade never wholly arrested shipments
of cotton; but it gradually became stringent enough tr> impose
upon them a tax in the foi-m of losses by capture, or of bribes
to Federal officials, sufficient to disappoint effectually these
great [)Ui'poses. The financial right arm of the Confederacy
was tied uj). Again, the blockade imposed such difficulties
upon importations that, although they continued almost to the
133 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
last, they were limited to a few of the iiure couipaet articles
which nurturcnl the war; and these were supplied in the most
scanty and inade(|uate degree. Thus, the wt^akin- combatant
was kept, in a measure, unarmed and unfed, dui-ing the unecjual
struggle.
Fourthly. To give a correct estimate of Northern prowess
in this war, Ihe trutli must be told — whicli rs not pleasant to
the pride of the Confederates — that tlieir armies, apart from
their deficient numbers, were never formidable in their char-
acter. The Cjufederate glory was dependent moi-e on the
weakness of their assailants, than on the intrinsic vigor of their
defense. This assertion, true though distasteful, will be sub-
stantiated by these two facts: first, that the people of the
^outh were never roused to what professional soldiers call a
poi)ular resistance; and secondly, that tli(- gDvernment never
had a really organized and diiscii)lined army. As to the first,
their enemies did indeed wage their war in a ruthless way,
which gave abundant motive and justification for jtopular war-
fare; that is, for turning every mah^ of the invaded c(nmtry
into a S'oldiei- without the fornuility of enlistment, and for
teaching him ti) regaid every invader as an outlaw, to be assail-
ed by any means, and in every place. Hut the Southern people
never availed themselves of that right. Amidst all the unutter-
able horrors of the raids, the burnings, the wanton and ruinous
ravagings, the honu- [)eoj)le of the South uuiiutained a singular
neutrality, and submitted with an unaccountable (piiescence,
leaving all def<'ns(^ and vengeanci', alike, to the organized sol-
diery. Federal officials came and went al )ng \'ast lines of
transixtrtat'ion; cavalrynum who had given the country people
every reason to regard and treat them as wolves, traversed the
regit)U:s they had desolated; bummers rode away with their
spoil, secure from ambuscade unless sduic movable c:)lunin of
the regular Confederate armies, under sonu' Morgan, CiJuantrel,
or Mosby, happened to be near. The citizens — i)lundered,
ravaged, murdered — rarely avenged themselves by becoming
guerillas.
This singular (piietude ;)f a spirited pe()i»le was to be ac-
counted for by several causes. Perhaps the most operative of
these was the quixotry of the government; which, in its eager
desire for the reputation of a civilized and honorable belliger-
THE tjNlTJ:t) STATKS AS A MILITARY NATION 188
euf, nnifoiinly iie<;lectt'(l ;iiul (liseouiajic'd sucli citizcii.s ;is pio-
posed to resort to those rij^lits of nature wliicli the ontra«;es of
the invaders justified. Tlie i)eo])]e. nioieover. were stran«;ers
to war and bloodshed. Two generations of ])rofonnd peace at
home, had made ease pleasant, and personal viMijicance ablior-
rent to their habits. Their character was (inlet, law-abidinj>\
kindly, in the hij;hest decree. Their hijih civilization, and the
standard of material comfort and safety to which they were
accustomed, had dis(|ualified them for seekin<>' the rou<;h and
turbulent vengeance of the guerilla And then, the men of
hardihood and spirit had responded at first to the call of their
country, and were in the regular armies. So it was, that the
Northern invader was almost wholly free from that species of
anno^'ance which, when combined with the resistance of organ-
ized armies, becomes so terrible — popular warfare.
Next, when we asserted that the armies of the Confeder-
acy, inadequate in size as they were, never showed themselves
truly good armies in (]uality, we did not im]tugn the gallantry
of the bulk of the men c()m])osing them. Themorale opioid v, jo
is a thing of comparative estimate. It may be very true (as this
discussion will evince) that, compared with that of tln^ Xortli,
the morale of the Confederacy was lofty and brilliant. I'ut it
must be confessed that, com])ared with the historic standard,
the Confederate people and soldiery were not, as a whole, a
heroic body. The war found them in a transition state. Very
many, perhaps the most of the reputable men (with nearly all
the women) still cherished the hardy virtues and ennobling spir-
it of Revolutionary grandsires. Yet the cori-upting coitartner-
shij) with the North had continued just a generation too long.
The leaven of a sensualistic morality and civilizati :)n was at
work all through the South; the contagion had already tainted
multitudes. Hence, althougli in the moment of first enthusiasm
the people seemed to rally almost as one man to the call of
liberty raised by the undebauched s})irits. yet when the stress of
danger and toil came, many proved themselves craven. The
Confederate armies certainly included a class of i)atriot soldicMs
the noblest which this age can ])roduce, under any clime. Tliis
class was numerous; it embraced, perhaps at all stages of the
war, a majority of the levies. But there was also a large ele-
ment of baser metal; men who begrudged their sacrifices for
134 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
liberty, aud shii-ked danger. And as deatli thinned tlie ranlvs
of the original armies, this worse material became relatively
larger.
But the fact, that the Canfederacy never had a really good
army, can be explained abundantly, without depreciating the
gallantry of the Confederate people. It never had the leisure,
nor the skilled officers, to organize a thorough army. The pop-
ulation, though gallant, was ignorant of w^ar, by reason of two
generations of peace. Tlie fewest men aie born soldiers, like
the Jacksons, the Ashbys, the Sterling Prices, the Forrests.
For ordinary mortals, it is a hard and long lesison, t3 learn
that untiring sclf-dfMiial. rliat devotion to duty, that study of
detail, that carefulness, iliat self-government, that talent of
command, that intelligiMirt- in the arts of attack and defense,
which must be added to jteis )nal courage, to make the good of-
ficer. Nothing can teach that lesson to them, except long ex-
I^erience in actual service. Now the Confederacy was comp<^ll-
ed to organize into armies a larger jjortion of its men than any
modern nation has been able to keep in the field. It was ybligeu
to emplo}' thousands of officers, where it had only a few score -
the graduates of West I'oint, and veterans of the little army of
Mexico — competent. There was not in the cjuntin' a tithe of
the practical knowledge of military duties which was necessary
to organize and instruct the armies raised. That so much w'as
done, to approximate such bodies of unwarlike men towards
the character of regular armies, shows an extraordinary gal-
lantry and aptitude f >r war, in the Southern people. But the
armies nevei- had (Miough competent officers to make them, as
wholes, well drilled or well organized forces. At the beginning
of the campaigns of 1.S02, they had more nearly attained this
character: thenceforward, while individuals ac(|uired the exper-
ience and hardihood of veterans, the regiments gradually lost
their regularity of movements, and tactics were more and more
at a discount. Southern officers and soldiers uniformly testi-
fied that the drill of the Northern regiments (except when
confused by attack) was better than their own. But the
Northern army mnsi have been but a sorry standard of com-
parison in this paiticular, since they had a part of the same
difficulties to overcome in extemporizing their forces. The
most experienced Southern officers confessed that it was the
THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 135
rai-esr spectai-le to see their advancing regiments preserve sneli
an alignment in their onset as to deliver anything like a col-
lective «hock again the enemy. Usually, the onset was the
rush of an impetuous mob, in which the quick men were one
or two hundred yards in advance of the slow. It was the tes-
timony of the soldiers, that the front line, if supported by a
second line of battle in the rear, must always make its account,
when tired into by the enemy, to receive also at least a partial
tire from their own friends; because no Confederates were ever
sufficiently under rhe control of rheir ofHcers, ro hear Northern
bullets whistle, without returning them. In the best Confed-
erate regiments, during the excitement of battle, eager sugges-
tions from privates were as loud, and as intiuential, as com-
mands from their officers.
This lack of drill was the necessary result, not only of a de-
ficiency of officers, but also of the cruelty of the emergency.
Troops must needs be hurried to the front before their train-
ing was completed; often, before it was begun. T'avalry horses
were taken from pasture or i)lougli to-day, and employed in
action to-morrow. Kecruits were .sent to the front the day
they were enrolled, and wert^ merged at once in active forces,
who.se exacting duties in the march, the picket, and the line of
battle, left them not one moment for drill, during a whole half
year. Troops ceased to go into winter quartei^s; for the cam
paigns extended through winter and summer alike. The very
lack of instruction and drill necessitated a four-fold exposure
of the efficient officers; so that the army was at length almost
wholly deprived of its mon^ capable and experienced leaders,
by deatli or capture. And. to crown all. the government had
laid a foundation for defective discipline, by making the officers
elective. From all the.se causes it came to jiass that the ('on-
federate armies, while disjjlaying great gallantry on the part
of a majority of their uhmi. had scarcely enough discipline and
drill to entirlt^ them to the name of regular armies. This de-
ficiency was confessed by the highest jtossible authority, that
of (ien. Lee himself. This c(msumniate soldier, speaking of
the advantage of perfect drill and unity of action, and declar-
ing that he believed this advantage so great, as against either
of the forces then engaged, as to be almost incapable of exag-
geration, pointed to it as the natural remedy for his inferiority
136 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
of numbers, lint tlieu, pausing, lie added, with accents of sig-
nificant sadness: "But I cannot give tliis drill to my army,
because the enemy has my officers in his prisons."
The Federal authorities were exempt, in the task of form-
ing their armies, from the most of these difficulties. They had,
first, the whole standing army of the I'nited States, as a nucleus
and model for their military crystallization. They had the ma-
jor part of the instructed officers. They were able to draw mer-
cenary officers from all the armies of Europe. They, as the
aggressors, could choose their own time for the initiative, and
needed not to move their new armies until they thought them
ready, while the defendants must, perforce, move to meet them,
prepared or unprepared. And especially, the invaders, having
their own populous country and all the world to furnish num-
bers, were able to keep their new levie*> in the depots, until
they were drilled. It was easy for them to have enough men
at the front, and enough also in the camps of instruction.
The work which the North had to do, therefore, was only
to beat forces of one-fourth their own number, or less; and these
untrained to war. They should have found the Confederate
armies almost as little formidable in their quality as in their
size.
Fifthly. The credit of the North for this exploit must also
be aftected by this fact, that while they had at the outset twen-
ty-two millions (22,000,000) against five millions (5,000,000),
and during the real crisis of the war, twenty -two millions
(22,000,000) against three million eight hundred thousand
(3,800,000), they did not deem these odds sufficient, but eagerly
sought the aid of the rest of the world. They believed them-
selves, if we may infer from their actions, unable to crush this
feeble adversary, without drawing from the Southern slaves
armies as large as all those of the Confederacy, and from
Europe hundreds of thousands of her proletaries. The Fed-
eral Secretary of War tells us that he mustered out of service
about one hundred and seventy thousand (170,000) negro com-
batants. These were recruited almost exclusively from the
slaves of their enemies. When Gen. McClellan, during the
Presidential canvass of 1864, nshamed of so savage and dis-
graceful a dependence, promised that he, if made President,
would disband the negro trooi>s, Lincoln himself ridiculed his
I'HE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 13t
pi'omit^e; saying- that this would deprive tlie riiion cause of
the aid of two hundred thousand (200, (MM>) men. and would thus
render its suecess hopeless. That is to say, the head .of the Fed-
eral T^nion judged that its twenty-two niillion.s (22.000.000).
backed by all the mercenaries of Europe, would be unable to
conquer these three million eight hundred thousand (3.800,00(1)
Confederates, without the aid of two hundred thousand (20(1,-
OOOj partially reclaimed, black savages!
It would, perhaps, be hard to find documentary data, from
which to learn the exact number of foreign recruits in tlie
Xoithern armies. We can show that this element was very
large. .Vll well-informed persons know that every country of
Western Europe was canvassed by "emigration-agents," who,
under this thin disguise, were recruiting officers for the North ;
and that a large part of that human stream, which flows annu-
ally into the United States, was, during the war, directed into
the I'nion armies. Not only were foreigners found in every
regiment; whole brigades, as that of Meagher, and even divi-
sions, a.s that of Blenker, were composed exclusively of Irish
men or of (Germans. In the prison depots of the Confederates,
half, at least, of the captives gave evidence of foreign birth.
The Secretary of War at Washington gives us the nationalities
of fifteen thousand seven hundred (15,700) men buried in the
military Golgotha of that caipital. Of these, he tells us, four
thousand nine hundred (4,f)00) were native white soldiers, four
thousand one hundred and eighty (4,180) were negroes, and six
thousand six hundred ((),()00| wei-e foreign-born. Either the
native-born must have been more chary of exposure to wounds
and disease, than the foreign-born; or else, in the armies whicli
sent their disabled men to Washington, there must have been
more foreigners than native whites in tlie ratio of nearly seven
to five. Once more. The reports of the war and navy de-
partments of the Washington (lovernment show an aggregate
of two million six hundred and fifty-six thousand (2,(>5(j,000)
men, actually engaged, at different times, in the military and
naval service of the war. But the whole number of men
capable of military d\ity. in the "loyal" Sratt^s. who had not
been drafted, was two million stn-en hundred and eighty-four
thousand (2.784,000.) Whence, if tho.se States had done their
own fighting, it would follow that nearly half their men must
138 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
have beeii for a rinn^ in senicr. Bur tlu- iinifoiiii tcsriiiimiv ;-)f
travelers and <-irizen.-< was. that the walks of civil life in tlie
Xoi-ih exhibited a very .slight depletion of their eustoniary
throngs. While, in the South, every assenihlatie, at chureh. at
the seats of justice, in the streets of towns which were not
military p:)sts. gave striking evidence of the absence of nearly
all the arms-bearing men. at the North, a very small part of the
home poituhition was absent in the camps. Now, the only
solution of this riddle is, that their levies were filled chiefly
with foreigners, rutting these data together, it seems very
jilain that less than half in the Northern armies were native
citizens. In other w )rds. these tweuty-tw) million (22.000.000).
after recruiting their armies with two hundred thousand
;200.()00) negroes, were not able to con(]uer the three million
eiglit hundr(^d thousand (:l.s0().(i(i(ii. uiiiil they liad associated
with them half a million of foreigners. The North f )und it
necessary to call all the world to its help, in order to overpower
its feeble adversary!
But, sixthly, the whole story is not yet told. Even this
whole people, with the negroes and all the world to back them,
acknowledged themselves unable to subdue the resistance of
their little foe. by any ordinaiy methods of warfare recognized
among civilized nations. They were compelled to add to these
the most ingenious combination of savage and illegitimate ex-
pedients, to undermine the adversary whom they could not
meet in fair and etjual battle. One of these was the incarcer-
ation of unarmed citizens, captured in the pursuits of civil
life, who migli; }uM-rli:ince either l)ec()me T'onfederate soldiers
afterwards, or might aid some soldier or soldier's family with
their industry. Another was the exclusion by blockade of
medicines for the sick; a barbarity unheard of before amiuig
polite nations. The calculation was. that the stroke of cold
steel or disease, in the body of the gallant adversary, might
be aggravated unto death in the more instances; and that
the pestilence might ravage the h;)me ])o]>ulation. unchecked
by the skill of the physician. Anothei- was the destruction
of food and the implements of industry, among the peaceful
citizens of the South. It was cunningly calculated, that by
these means, some brave enemies at the front might be recalled
home bv the harrowing news of famine at their beloved hearth-
THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITAltY NATION. 139
stones, 01' that, at least, tlicii' arms iiii<i,lit be paralyzed by (he
anguish; and rhat sonu* others nii^ht be starved out by lack of
rations. AVhat did it matter that helpless women, little chil-
dren, aid men who had shed their blood for the tlag of the
United States, rho iiooi- negroes, innocent in every sense, of
the war, might perish of the dire but undeserved doom of
famine? No matter, if there was a chance thereby of wea.k-
ening some of those few brave arms, which they so much
dreaded in battle. History will never disclose the ruthless and
universal diligence of the North in this work of destruction.
It was for this it needed its million (l,(l(»().(M)(l) of destroyers.
Its only lu>pe was to make the dearth as wide as the hostile
country. Its politicians boasted with an amiable wit, that if
the prowess of neither (Jen. ^NlcClellan. nor liurnside, nor
Hooker, nor (Irant, could prevail to ''crusli the rebellion," they
had enlisted one, more all-conipiering than the whole of
them, general starvation. Scarcely a county in the interior
of tlie largest Southern State escai)ed this systematic ravage.
Wherever the Northern troops went, work-animals were stolen
or slaughtered, with all other live stock; all i>louglis and other
implements of husbandi-y biokeii; mills and faitories burned;
tanneries destroyed, witli llieir hides; and the blessed bread,
sacred gift of divine IM-ovidence to man, either burned or
trampled under the horses' feet. The sweeping ravages of
Sheridan, in Virginia, under the express orders of the com-
mander-in-chief, and of Sherman in South Carolina and (leorgia,
will never be forgotten while history has a verdict to utter.
The flatterers of these men boasted that the desolation was to
be so utter that the crow flying across the wastes would be
compelled to carry his own rations! And if it was not so
complete, the only reason was, that the industry of even North-
ern malice wearied of the work of destruction.
These methods, and not the Federal arms, were, in truth,
the wea]ions which wrought the ruin of tln^ (\)nfederacy. Its
little armies never were beaten; they were, in fact, dispersed by
the difticulties of subsisteiici'. They did not yield to the force of
arms, but to the efficacy of these savage and cowardly means.
One moi-e artitice of barl)arism remained. l)y which the
gigantic enemy could supidement his lack of prowess; the vio-
lation of the cartle for the exchange of prisoners. As soon as
140 THE TJNITED STaTKS AS A MILITARY NaTIOI^.
the >\'asliiii.i;toii Goverimitint eanie to iimkn-stand the task it
had niideitaken, and to perceive its advantage in wearing out
the adversary which it could not meet in a fair field, it began
to seek pretexts for evading its own engagements for this ex-
change. Ultimately, it came to act upon the policy of holding
every dreaded Confederate, whoui it captured. It mattered
not to it, that a larger number of its [)wn men were left to pine
or die in captivity. At last, when, early in 18(15, the argu-
ments or the frank concessions of the Confederate Government
had removed the last pretext for delaying the general exchange,
"Butler the Beast" was selected by the Federal (xeneralissimo,
as a fitting tool, to write a letter so insolent, and so unworthy
of a soldier, that it was calculated all intercourse must, per-
force, be interrupted, and thus, the doors of the prisons be final-
ly closed u]»on the captured Confederates, until their aid would
be too late for their cause. "The lieast," disgraced a little
after by his master, expressly disclosed this design I And the
commander-in-chief, with equal candor, declared, that if the
fifty thousand (50,000) ('onfederate soldiers, whom he held,
were released, and added to the armies of their country, its
conquest would be impossible. He manifestly counted it for
nothing, that this exchange would restore' to his ranks fifty
thousand (50,000) of his own braves! This, he felt, would be
no equivalent; the conquest of that number of Confederates
would require an addition of three hundred thousand (."{(MMIOO)
negroes, or mercenaries, or native Northerners.
Here, then, is the exploit of the Northern people; that
twenty-two million (22,000,000), possessed of every material
advantage, aided by two hundred thousand (200,000) negroes
filched from the South, and by all the mercenary adventurers
of the world besides, were able to overpower three million eight
hundred thousand (:>,S00,000), after three years, and after they
had added to all the legitimate ap])liances of civilized war, all
the savage expedients of bad faith, ravage, sack, and disease.
In the sober light of these facts and figures, the claim of i)rowess
for the North, in this war, is infinitely preposterons. That it
did not crush its puny antagonist within the first six months,
is subject of burning reproach. That it admitted itself unable
to crush him at all single-handed, and was compelled to invoke
THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 141
the aid of all Eur(»j)e. of tlu' pool' ii<\!i>i-o, of savajic artiticc. and
bai'baritics loii^ discarded by rivilized iiiau; this should make
it silent forever, as to the glories ;)f this war. It is, for it, the
most mortifying' exhibition of national impotency. wlneh mod-
ern history dist-loses, anywhere this side of China.
But still it is pleaded, that if the North failed to display
siji,nal prowess in the Held, ir did nevertheless carry throu<;h
this ji^reat wai- with sjiirit and deteiniinati )n; and did actually
overcome, somehow, a great resistance. Even European ob-
servers, iji'norant of facts, seem to admit that, if for nothing;
else, the North is to be dreaded for its i)erseverauce, its me-
chanical industry, and its financial resources. The plain state-
ment of a few truths will also remove this conclusion. It will
be seen, tliat the cost at which the victory over the Confed-
erates was won is a financial burden, which effectually inca-
j)acitates the United States from ajj^ain fijihting with money;
that the Northern ])eople, in a moment of reckless i)hrensy,
purchased their revenge by crip})lini'- themselves; and that the
ruinous jirice paid for their triuni])h leaves their financial credit
in as ugly a condition as their military. They, more than any
other people, account moui^y to be 'the sinews of war.' On
that calculation, the ability of the i)eoj)le for future wars is to
be measured by its ability to pay additional taxes, and to con-
tract further loans in the money-markets of the world, for mili-
tary enterprises. If the Ignited States can get as much more
money (and can find among Southern negroes and foreign
emigrants another seven hundred thousand (700,000) of 'gud-
geons,' to l)e befooled), then, perhaps, they are competent to
the con(p]est of another spirited little nation of four or five
million souls. Such seems to be the measure of their ])romise
for military exploits in the future. There is sonu4hing impres-
sive to the bystander, in the exhibition of tremendous effort.
If it be granted that the athlete can do again and again what
we have just seen him do. he is invested in our eyes with a very
portentous aspect ; we feel that he would be a terrible fellow
to have upon our hands. But when we discover that the
I)resent ett'orts (than which none less would have savml him
from being beaten by his little adversary) are so far beyond
nature, that they have ruptured a blood-vessel or an intestine,
and crixjpled him for life, we degrade him from a formidable
142 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
antagonist to a broken duwu champion. Onr panic is ertectually
cured.
To appreciate, then, the financial resources of the United
States for further military enterprises, tlie experienced public
man will examine the following points: the existing burdens
of debt, which must still be provided for, whatever new one
may be incurred; the cost of the existing administration, to
the people; the ability and disposition yf the people for tax-
paying; the economy and eflftciency of the present administra-
tion; the present state of the national credit, with the probable
influence upon it of a great increase in the national indebted-
ness; the unity and patriotism of the popular feeling; and all
these, compared with similar elements of strength in the nations
which are to be the probable antagonists.
What then are the existing burdens of debt, which the
United States must carry through any future wars? At the end
of 1808, the recognized debt of the Federal Government was
three thousand and eighth-six and a half millions of dollars
(P,080,438,G:35). Nearly the whole of this accrued in the
four years jf the Confederate war. This total includes the
current treasury notes, called greenbacks (which are the Clov-
ernment's i)roniises to pay), and the certificated debt not A'et
bonded. The annual interest upon this debt, which must
be raised by taxation, is one hundred and forty and a half mil-
lions (|140,424,00()j; of which the larger part is paid in coin,
although the loans were received by the Grovernment in depre
ciated paper. To pay this debt, the United States have thirty-
four and a third millions of souls (in 1800, 34,288,870). Let
this debt be compared with that of the leading I'owers of
Christendom, especially those of Western p]urope. England
owes a national debt of three thousand six hundred and forty-
two millions of dollars (P.n42,()00,()00), and pays upon it an
annual interest of one hundred and twenty-six millions of dol-
lars (|126,000,()()0). To bear these burdens, there are in the
IJritish Isles about twenty-nine millions (29,000.()00j of souls;
but they have, in the remainder of the British Empire, one
hundred and fifty-four millions (154,000,000), who are com-
mercially tributary to them, and thus supply the ability to pay
taxes sixfold above their numbers. It must be remembered,
also, that while the British debt is the gradual result of a
'THE UNITED STAtES AS A MILITARY NaTIOJST. 14!^
number of great wars and glorious enterprises, continued for
generations, which have added vast territories and untold
wealth to the Empire, the debt of the United States was nearly
all incurred in four years, as the price of tlie desjlariou of the
fairer half of their home domain.
The Empire of Austria has thirry-five and a half millions
(35,oU(),()00j of souls. Its national debt is about one thousand
four hundred and nineteen millions of dollars (|l,419,0U0,UUUj.
Austria is usually regarded as the most burdened and paralyzed
of the great Powers of Europe. France, with its dependencies,
has a population of forty-four and a half millions (44,500,000).
Its national debt is two thousand two hundred and forty-seven
millions of dollars (|2,247,000,000). All these great Powers
feel that, in the burdens of their debts for former wars, they
haA'e given caution to uiankind for a pacific behavior in the
future.
But the real burdens of the people of the United States
have not yet been disclosed. The (xovernments of the several
States acknowledge an aggregate of debt, amounting to about
three hundred and fifty-seven millions (|35T,000,()00). This
should be added, because it is a part of the load the people have
to carry; the payment of interest and principal must be provid-
ed from the taxes of the same tax-payers who pay the Federal
debt. So, in comparing the burdens of the United States with
those of its neighbors, fairness requires the same addition to be
made; because here, this Federal, and these State Govern-
ments only perform, together, the same functions which in
EuroiJe are rendered to the people by the central governments.
The State debts, then, must be added.
But this is not all. It is very well knt)wn that the >»'orthern
people were s.o averse to military service, that enlistments were,
in most cases, procured only by high bounties. When the
Central Government began to draw imperative requisitions
for men on the States, the local authorities, instead of simply
drafting the required numbers from among their own militia,
almost universally made arrangements for purchasing merce-
naries to supply their quotas; thus relieving their own citizens
from the dreaded service. The pi-ice usually ])aid, t) wards the
end, for the human cattle for Confederate shambles, was not
less than hfteen hundred dollars each. A sorry coninu'ntary,
144 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
by the way, ui)uii rlie coui-a^e and parriorisni of that peoph',
that so large a bribe was needed to persnade them tit "save the
life of the nati;)u."' But thus it came to pass, that not only the
States, but cities, counties, country towns, and even the rural
subdivisions called, a mono- tliat peojtle. townships, raised loans,
and purchased substitutes. Laws were passed to authorize
them to make such loans, and to levy the taxes necessary to
lirovide for theii- interest. Mrtney had indeed been raised, in
many cases, for internal improvements, in the same mode; and
similar loaus for canals and railr tads remain as a part of the
popular burdens. The aggregate of these bounty-debts cannot
be estimated by us, from any evidences in our reach; but some
data will be given to enable the reader to approximate it. The
city of Philadelithia alone, it is believed, owes a debt of forty-
f mr millions |S44. ()()(). (KKli. chit-tly fitr bounties. It was a very
••loyal" city. I; claims about six hundred thousand (OIKt.Ood)
souls. The State of New York admits a bounty-debt of its
cwn of twenty-six millions (.^iMi.ltOO.lMMI). \\\\\ cities, counties
and townshi})s. within the State, have also their own little debts
fur this and similai- objects, in additi »n. The Comptroller of
the State Treasury received inconijdeti^ rctni-ns of these local
debts, from which he made an aggregate, at the end of last
year, of eighty-three and a half millions (f83,500.(»(M)i. The
State of New York claims a jtopulation of three million eight
hundred thousand (:5.S(M(. ()()(»). The two instances of this city
and this State, may indicate how the- local burdens have accrued.
A few othe]- items may aid in our apjiroximatitm. The
Federal Secretary of Wax informs us tliat. in the latter part
of tin- war. there were one hundred and thirty-six thousand
(l.'>r>.()(Ml) re-enlistments of the veterans houorably discharged.
It is W(41 known that these usually received the highest boun-
ties. If we place them at fifteen hundred dollars each, these
cost the Xoithein people two hundred and four millions
(1204,000,0(10). The system of bounties was general from
May, ]S(;:*>, until the end of the war. The (Government itself
fixed the minimum ]»rice of a man at three hundred doihirs.
Ity appointing that sum as the cost of an exemption from the
draft. But it is well known that few substitutes were pur-
chased at so cheap a rate. The Secretary of AYar informs us
that after May 1, 1868, there were one million six hundred and
TnE TTNITED STATES AS A MILITAUY NATION. 14^
tliiii y-t'om- tlioiisaiul (l,G34,()(Hr) ciilisrinciirs. Phu-iiij; the cost
of each of these eiili-stiiieuts at tluee luiiulred doHars, which
is far below the averaj^e bounty, soinebDdy had to i)ay for them
foui- hundied and ninety millions (|4no.()0().()(l(l). The "boun-
ty-jnm})eis/ as is well known, peipeli-ated imnuMise frauds;
and the number of bounties paid tliem was far larger tliaii tliat
of the enlistments.
We are thus convinced that this lui^e "unknown (quantity"
in the problem, the local and State bounty-debt, cannot be less
than many hundreds of milli >ns of dollars. But in estimating-
the actual linancial burden which tlie people of the United
States must carry, through any future war, all this must be
added. It was a part of the cost of the Confederate war. The
interest and principal of it must be paid by the same people
who have the Federal debt to jjay. If the policy, pursued by
the (xovernment as to the local obligations incurred in the war
of the Kevolution, is again to prevail, all these bounty-debts
should be assunu^l and funded by the InittMl States. Already
this claim is heard in many (juarters. The recognized State
and Federal debts, as w(- have seen, amount to three billion
four hundred and forty-three million d )llars (13,443,195,000).
It is most manifest, that the total mass of public debt now
resting on the American people (nearly the whole incurred in
the late war), for the payment of wliicli ]U'ovision must be
made l)y taxation, must be at least four billions jf dollars
(.|;4,()()(),()()0,()()()). Mv. Andrew Johnson, late President of the
United States, and an ardent advocate of the war, always
aftirmed constantly, that tlu:> total cost of the war, to the tax-
payers, would prove to be live billions (|5,000,000,000). He,
of course, is good authority. And the interest on this debt is
fromy?7'^ fo seven and one fifth per centum'.
Some may be so thoughtless as to sujtpose that repiidiation
would lift this vast incubus off the shoulders :)f the nation.
The fatal objections to rebelling that deliverance by that mode,
are, first, that nobody would lend his money for the s(Mond war
to a debtor who so treacher )usly rid himself of his ol)ligations
for the first; wlienct^ tlie national credit would ai once succumb;
and. secondly, that the annihilation of so many securities of
j)ublic debt would immediately ])i'oduce a financial convulsion,
at which the private wealth Df immense numbers at the North,
146 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
already' to a very large extent speculative aud factitious, would
collapse, like a soap bubble pierced with a straw. The over-
burdened credit of the government cannot be lifted up by
repudiation.
Another burden which the people of the United States must
carry, through any future war, along with the interest of its
existing debt, is the cost of its present administration upon the
peace establishment. In the year 1868, the Federal income
was about three hundred and seventy-six aud a half millions
$376,000,000), and the expenditures were about one million
(1,000,000) more. We have seen that one item of this expen-
diture was the annual interest upon the debt, one hundred and
forty millions and a half (110,500,000). This left something
more than two hundred and thirty-six millions (^236,000,000)
as the cost of the military, naval and civil service. But the
goyernments of the States, which are an unavoidable part of
the public burdens, cost last year nearly seventy-six and a half
millions (76,500,000). Adding tliis sum. we find that the Ameri-
can people actually paid to their governments, the last year,
four hundred aud fifty-three millions of dollars (|153,000,000i.
And this was exclusive of the support of religion (with which
the governments, State and Federal, profess to have nothing
to do), and exclusive also of the costs of municipal administra-
tion, and of the larger part of the cost of the national education,
which are paid for by the people separately. Nor is the interest
on the vast bounty debts included.
Let this burden be compared with those borne by the lead-
ing nations of Europe, which are usually believed to tax the
strength of their subjects as severely as nature can well endure.
Austria, with a million (1,000,000) more of people than the
United States, pays her government annually two hundred aud
thirty-eight and a half millions of dollars ($238,500,000). The
forty four millions (11,000,000) of Frenchmen are taxed, in all,
three hundred and eighty-five millions (385,000,000). The
British Empire collects a national revenue of three hundred
and thirty-seven millions (337,000,000). It appears, therefore,
that the people of the United States now have the most costly
and onerous system of government to sustain, and the heaviest
taxation, in a season of profound peace, of any people in Chris-
tendom. But the most startling fact is, that their money goes
THE UNITED STATES AS A MrLITARY NATION. 147
SI) vei y short a waj towards defending the coiintrr. Whih-
Ansirii!, out :)f the revenues above uientioned, i»ays tlie interest
on her debt, and tlie whole cost of jj;()vernnient, islie sustains
also rwo hundred and forty-four thousand (244,00(1) armed men,
as her peace establishment; France, four liundred and fifty-
eiirht thousand (458,000), and England., two hundred and six
thousand (L'0(J,000). But the United States, with an income
larger by one-fourth than the largest of them, and a home pop-
ulation whose government should cost little, seeing the people
in theory govern themselves, sustains only fifty-six thousand
(Mght liundred and eighty-one (5(»,881) soldiers, sailors, and
marines, to defend the country! Tlie comparison of this mili-
tary establishment with that of (Ireat Britain, is especially
damaging, because that empire, like tlie United States, has no
conscrii»tion, and raises its armies by enlistment and pay. How
friglitful must be tluit incompetency, disorder, and peculation,
wlncli, out of revenues so immense, effects so little for national
defense!
In the United vStates a smaller population actually pays a
larger sum than in any of the old despotisms of Europe. It is
thus demonstrated that tlie taxation must be luore onerous
here than in any of them. Let this be illustrated in a few^ par-
ticulars. The municipal government of the city of Xew York,
with about nine hundred thousand (900,000) people, costs
twenty-two millions of dollars (|2l',000,000) annually, in addi-
tion to the State and Federal imposts. Tlie taxes of the citizens
of the State of Xew York exacted by State laws, amount to
twelve dollars (fl2) annually for every soul. There are town-
ships in that State where the Federal, State, and local taxes
make six per centum upon the total values of all the property of
every si)ecies, rated at a full valuation. The incoiuie tax of
Great Britain is now (if we mistake not) two and a half pence
on the i)ound sterling of clear income, which is but little over
one per centum. The income tax of the Ignited States is five
per centum. This tax in (treat Britain yielded, last year, not
(juite thirty millions of dollars (!it;aO,000,000); in the Ignited
States, thirty-tliree millions (|:{:^,000.0()0). lint the former
country, with its hundred and fifty-four millions (154,000,000)
of commercial tributaries, is live times as able to pay an lucomi*
tax as the United States.
148 THE UNITED 8TATES AS A MILITARY NATION.
It may be objected to this surprising picture, that it canuot
be consistent with the ehistic prosperity of this teeming, new
country. Tlie reply is, that tlie country is not now either elastic
or prosperous. The burden of taxation is actually crushing it
into a collapse. All industrious classes, who do not make their
gains at the expense of others, are sensibly overburdened. The
traffic of the country is unhealthy, and the circulation of com-
modities is extravagantly costly. Notwithstanding nominal
high wages, the laborer is more and more depressed; and in
our great metropolis every tenth human being is a pauper in
midsummer!
Now if the people of the United States, with inferior num-
bers and ability for enduring taxation, are, in this time of peace,
Iturdened with a larger debt, heavier taxes, and a more costly,
j.rodigal, and inetticient government, than any of their great
neighbors, it is plain they are financially hel])less for great
military enter])i-ises against those neigli])!)rs.
But let this argument be enlianced by a view of the present
state of the national credit. The only currency of the people
is a depreciated paper, based, not on a capital stock of specie,
but on the promises to pay of this overburdened debtor, the
(rovernment. And meantime the bonds of the United States,
bearing six per cent, interest in specie, fluctuate in London
from seventy-two to eighty-three in the hundred; while the
scrip of the British national debt, paying an interest of only
three and a \i^\i per cent., sells almost at pari The present
burdens of the people so obviously tax their utmost strength,
that the credit of the Grovernment staggers under those burdens
in the hour of peace, and in the glow of recent victory. Let a
grave danger arise, bringing the certainty of another great
addition to this monstrous load, aiul tlu^ whole fabric of public
credit would dissolve at once into ruin.
The Washington Government, if it is wise, will therefore
cultivate a very pacific demeanor towards all its powerful
neighbors. And it will be further inclined to this prudent
policy, if it considers the tendency of its methods for conquer-
ing the South, and for treating it when conquered, to make the
ex-Confederates trustw^orthy and istaunch supporters of its flag
under the burdens and trials of another war. The lesson to be
drawn from this review of the "situation" is, therefore, obvious-
ly one ol peace.
STONEWALL lACKSON.'
A lecture delivered in Baltimore in November, 1872, by Rev. Dr.
R. L. Dabney.
(Anything from the able pen of Dr. Dabney concerning
Stonewall Jackson would be read with interest. His 'position
as Chief of Statf, his intimate personal relations with the great
chieftain, and his study of his character and his campaigns
when acting as his chosen biographer, peculiarly fit Dr. Dab-
ney to tell the story of Jackson's life, or to delineate his char-
acter. We are confident, therefore, that our readers will thank
us for giving them the following j^aper, even though there may
be dissent from some of the views presented. We print it just
as it was originally delivered, only regretting that we are com-
pelled by the press upon our pages to divide it into two parts.)
I am expected to speak to-night of Stonewall Jackson. The
subject sounds remote, antiquated, in these last days. How
seldom does that name, once on every tongue, mix itself now-a-
days, with the current speech of men? Is it not already a fos-
sil name, almost? I must ask yju, in order to inspect it again,
to lift off sundry superincumbent strata of your recent living
memories and inttn-ests, to dig down to it. (Jreat is tlie con-
trast wrought by the nine calendar years which have inter-
vened since the glory of conquering Jackson, and the sequel
"Jackson is dead," were blown by fame's trumpet from Chan-
cellorsville over all lands, and thrilled the praecordia in every
Southern bosom. Then, the benumbing shock which the words
struck into our hearts, taught us how great and heroic this man
had made himself, how essential to our cause, how foremost in
all our hopes. And when his great Sujjerior said (with a mag-
niinimity whicli matches Jackson's heroism), "Tell him he has
'o^st his left arm; but I have lost my right arm"; all men felt.
"Yea! Lee has lost his right arm; the cause has lost its right
\ From •Southern Historical Society Papert." April. May. 1883. 149
150 STONEWALL JACKSON.
anil." And the thickening disasters wliich that h)ss soon en-
tailed, taught them, educated them, for a time, to appreciate
Jackson's as the transcendant fame of all our war. It sounded
in every true heart; it echoed in us from the thunder of the final
downfall. But now, who recalls it to his speech?
Why this? Was that fame an empty simulaceum worthy
only to be a nine-days' wonder, or was his devotion a blunder?
Or are our people changed, so as to be no longer able to appre-
ciate that devotion? We hope not, for it were a sad thing for
them, betokening moral death, decay and putrescence, that
they should become incaj)able of a heart-homage to this name.
We hope not.
But it is already anti(]uated; for the world moves fast in
these times. Many things have happened in these times, to stir,
to fatigue, to wring our hearts; great wrongs to be endured
passively until endurance obtused the sensibility, multiplied
tragical wails of friends sinking in the abyss of poverty and
obscure desipair; a social revolution; a veritable cataclysmus,
which has swept away our old, fair, happy world, with its pleas-
ant homes fragrant with ancestral virtues and graces, and has
left us a new w^orld, ais yet chiefly a world of quicksand and
slime; with no olive tree, alas, as yet growing. Yes; we have
lived long in these nine evil years; to us they are a century of
experiences. We are odl, very old, superannuated perhaps,
those of us who remember eTackson, and the days when he
fought for freedom. Will you not then bear with our garrulity
a little, should we even babble of our hero? For it is a pleas-
ant thing to recall those old days of wearing the grey, with a
Jackson to lead us to assured victory, when we were men as
yet ; with rights and freedom of our own, slipping then indeed
from our too inept hands, yet enough our own still to fight for;
when we had hope, and endeavor and high emprise, insipired
by our leader's example; and hardship and danger for the
cause, endured cheerily, as a sport; when we had a country,
loved all the more proudly that she was insulted and bleeding.
The memory of those days is bright; but it is attended by a
contrast most black and grim. Ovei- against that splendid past,
there glooms the shadow of the Mammon-Molock, named by
mockery, "reconstruction," with its most noisome iscalawag
odor, reeking of the pit. The joy of this reminiscence must be
STONEWALL JACKSON. 151
then a mixed joy, and the duty assigned me, while sacred and
not unpleasing — never shall it be unpleasing to us to celebrate
the fame of Jackson; for Aim the shadow touches not — yet a
duty difficult and sad.
I remember well, that naught except a circumstance is deem-
ed by you to have endowed this hand with any fitness to re-
fresh the characters of that fame; the circumstance of a brief
association with his person during the most glorious part of
his career. You would fain hear from me what manner of man
he appeared to one who was next to him, the ordinary mouth-
piece of his will, the sharer of his bivouac and his morsel, who
got the nearest glimpses through the portals of that reserve,
which no man might enter, who watched closely, and he may
even venture to affirm, intelligently, the outworkings of the
secret power within. This so reasonable desire of yours I pro-
pose to satisfy, not by presuming to name and catalogue his at-
tributes, analytically, by my judgment, or conceit, as may be —
for this would be to regard you as pupils, rather than patrons —
nor yet, by studying the cumulation of superlative, laudatory
epithets, — for this would imply that I deemed you not only pu-
pils, but gullible' — but by painting before you some select, sig-
nificant action of Jackson's own, wherein you may judge for
yourselves as freely as other spectators, what manner of man
this was. And I exhort you to expect in this description no
grace, save the homely one of c/ear iruf/i:' homeU' it may be
and most ungamished, yet truly what my eyes saw and my
ears heard. For is not this tlie quality most worthy of him
who would portray Jackson? And should the narrative have,
with its other unskillfulness, that of a certain egotistn, I pray
you bear in mind, that the necessity of this emerges in a man-
ner from my task. For what is my qualification therefor? save
that it was my fortune, along with many worthier men in the
ranks to behold (not my merit to do) some of these wonders
whereof you would fain hear; and when you ask for the testi-
mony of the eye-witness, the hunrble Ego must needs speak in
the egotistical first person.
And first, that I should ever have been invited to be next
his person at all, was characteristic of Jackson. He, who was
an alumnus of the military academy at West Point, and noth-
ing but a professional military man all his life, was least bound
152 STONEWALL JACKSON.
in professional trammels. This rrair he signified, in part, bv
his selection of successive chiefs for his staff, none of whom
had even snuffed the classical air of West Point or Lexington,
my intended predecessor and actual successor (J. A. Armstrong
and C. J. Faulkner), and the next successor (A. S. Pendleton),
but chiefly by the selection of me, a man of peace, and soldier
Df the Prince of I'eace, innocent, even in youth, of any tincture
of military knowledge. Herein was indeed a strange thing;
That I, the parson, tied to him by no blood tie, or interest, and
by acquaintanceship only slightest and most transient; that I,
at home nursing myself into partial convalescence from tedious
fever, contracted in the performance of my spiritual functions
among the soldiers of the previous campaign; that I. conscious
only of unfitness, in body and mind, for any direct help to the
cause, save a most sore apprehension of its need of all right-
eous help, and true love to it; that such an one as I should, in
the spring of 1862, be in\ited by him to that post. Verily, had
not all known "this is a man that doth not jest," it should have
seemed to me a jest. But the wisest men, speaking most in
God's fear, replied to me: "See that thou be not rash to shut
this door, if it be that God harh o}iened unto thee." And /
feared to shut ti, until he. by whom the call was uttered, should
know how unfit I was to enter in. Further than this, in ver\"
truth, my mind went not.
But if you would hear on what wise Jackson was wont to
.speak, these are iha ipsissima verba:
"Near Mt. Jackson, April 8th, 1862.
' ^My Lear Doctor:
"The extra sessiim of our Legislature will prevent Mr. Jas.
D. Armstrong, of the Virginia Senate, from joining me as my
A. A. General. If the position would be acceptable to you,
please take the accompanying recommendatiDn to Kichmond,
get the appointment, and join me at once, provided you can
make your arrangements to remain with me during the re-
mainder of the war. Your rank will be that of Major. Your
duties will re(iuire early rising and industry. Please let me
hear from you at once.
"Very truly your friend,
"T. J. JACKSON."
STONEWALL JACKSON. 153
Now, is not the fashion of these words a very revelation to
him who will consider of the fashion of the man? He has
time to tell that which is essential, but no word more. He
makes it known, that his war means work, and is no dilettan-
tism, or amateur soldiering. Nor is it the warfare of gallant bar-
barians, wherein much castrameutal laziness or even license
can redeem itself by some burst of daring and animal phrensy;
but "early rising and industry.'' "Now, wilt thou, or wilt thou
not?" And, if yes, then let thy act fuUow thy assent without
dallying. But yet, only on one condition must the ''yes" be
said to such as him, to remain uuchanged ''during the renuiin-
der of the war." He who would aspire to work and fight as
Jacksan's next assistant, must be one who would not look back
after he had put his hand to the plough; but one, who like his
master, came to stay with his work until it wa« ended, except,
perchance. God should first end him.
Thus then went I, to show Jackson why I might not enter
into this door of service, and yet seem no recreant (in staying
out) to my country's needs. I found him at a place, gateway of
the mountains that befriended him, named of the vicinage Con-
rad's Store; the Shenandoah tlood before liim, and beyond, mul-
titudinous enemies thronging — lield at bay, checkmated, gnash-
ing vainly up(jn him; while he, in the midst of din and march-
ing battalions, going to the watch-post, and splashing squad-
rons, splashing through mire most villainous, and of snow-
wracks and sleet of the ungenial spring, — of ''winter lingering
in the lap of spring," — stood calm, patient, modest, yet serious,
as though abashed at the meanest man's reverence for him ; but
at sternest peril unabashed. After most thoughtful, yea, fem-
inine care of food and fire for me, he took me apart saying, "I
am glad that you have come." But I told him that I was come,
I feared, uselessly, only to reveal my unfitness, and retire; al-
ready half-broken by camp-disease, and enervated by student's
toil. "But Providence," replied he, "will preserve your health,
if he designs to use you." I was unused to arms, and ignorant
of all military art. "You can learn," said he. "When would
you have me assume my office?" "Rest to-day, and study the
'Articles of ^A'a^,' and begin to-morrow." "But I have neither
outfit, nor arms, nor horse, for immediate service." "My quar-
termaster shall lend them, until you procure your own." "But
154 STONEWALL JACKSON.
I have a graver disqualification, which candor requires me to
disclose to you, first of mortals; I am not sanguine of success;
our leaders and legislators do nor seem to me to comprehend
the crisis, nor our people to respond to it; and, in truth, the
impulse which I feel to flv our of my sacred calling, to my
countr\''s succor, is chiefly the conviction that her need is so
desperate. The effect on me is the reverse of that which the
old saw ascribes to rhe rars when rhey believe the ship is sink-
ing." "But," saith he, laughing; "If rhe rats will only run
this way, the ship will not sink." Thus was I overruled.
You will remember that rheory of his character, which
most men were pleased to adopt, when he was first entrusted
with command: ''This man," said they, "is true, and brave, and
religious; but narrow and mechanical. He is the man to lead
a fighting battalion, under the direction of a head that can
think; but strategy, prudence, science, are not in him. His
very reserve and relucrance ro confer resulr from his own con-
sciousness, that he has no faculry of speech nor power of
thought, to debate wirh orher men." Had I been capable of so
misjudging his silence and modesry, as to adopt this theory,
his career must ere this have blown it all into thin air; the first
Manassas and Kernstown, and the retreat before Banks had al-
ready done thaf, for all save fools. All who served under him
had already learned that there was in him abundant thought
and counsel, deep and sagacious. He asked questions of all;
sought counsel of none; "gave no account to any man of his
matters." Once only, did council of war ever sit for him, to
help him to "make up his mind." And it was then, by their
inferior sagacity, made up so little to his liking, that he asked
such aid no more. Power of speech there was in him also, as
I witnessed; such truly eloquent speech, as uttered quickly the
very heart of his thought, and could fire the heart of the list-
ener. But he deemed rhar rhe conrrovej^sy he waged was no
longer parliamentary; rhar rhe only logic seemly for us at that
stage, was i\ieuliima ratio Regum To such respondent as the
rimes then appointed unto him. the cannon peal, and the charg
ing yell of the "men in grey," were rhe reply, which ro him
seemed eloquent: all else was emptier rhan silence.
But instead of leading you to a brief review of his whole
career, which would perforce be trite, because hurried, I would
STONEWALL JACKSON, 155
describe to you so-nie one of the exploits of liis genius, which
best illustrates it. One of these I suppose to be Port Republic.
Let me, then, present it to you.
To comprehend the battle:? of Port Eepublic, you must re-
call the events which ushered them in; the defeat of Milroy at
McDowell in the early May of 1802, that of Banks at Winches-
ter; the concentration of Generals Fremont and Shields towards
Strasbourg to entrap Jacksan at that place; his narrow escape,
and retreat up the great Valley to Harrisonburg. He brought
with him, perhaps, a force of twelve thousand men, footsore
from forced marches, and decimated by their ov.n victories. ?^o
more succors could come to Jackson from the east; tlie coil of
the snake around Lee and the Capital was becoming too close
for him to assist others; and all that the government expected
of Jackson was, to retreat indefinitely, fortunate if he could at
once escape complete destruction, and detain the pursuers from
a concentration against Richmond. Such was the outlook of
affairs upon the 8th of June. On the 11th of June, both the
pursuers were in full retreat, broken and shattered, fleeing to
shelter themselves near the banks of the Potomac, while Jack-
son was standing intact, his hands full of trophies, and ready
to turn to the help of Lee in his distant death-grapple with Mr-
Clellan. Such was the achievement. Let us see how his genius
wrought it out.
The skill of the strategist is in availing himself of the na-
tural features of the country, which may be helpful to him. In
this case these features were mainly the Blue Kidge mountains,
dividing the great Valley from Piedmont, Virginia; the Slien-
audoah river, a noble stream at all times, and then everywhere
uufordable because of its swolleu state; and the Great Valley
Turnpike, a paved road extending parallel to the mountain and
river, from the Potomac to Staunton. From a point east of
Strasburg to another point east of Harrisonburg extends the
Masanuttin mountain, a ridge of fifty miles length, parallel to
the Blue Ridge, and dividing the Great Valley into two val-
leys. Down the eastera of these, usually called the Page-county
valley, the main river passes, down the other passes the great
road. Up this road, west of the Masanuttin mountain was Jack-
son now retreating, in his deliberate, stubborn fashion, while
Fremont's 18,000 pursued him. Up another road parallel, but
156 STONEWALL JACKSON.
on the eastern side both of that mountain and of the main river,
marched Shields, with his 8,000 picked troops. Neither had any
pontoon train, for Banks had burned his in his impotent flight
in May. Why did nut Shields, upon coming over from the
Piedmont to Front Koyal, for the }>urpose of intercepting Jack-
son in the lower valley, at once crof^s the Shenandoah and place
himself in effectual concert with his partner. Fremont? He
had possession of a bridge at Fron-t Royal. They were endeav-
oring to practice a little lesson in the art of war, which they
fancied they had learned from the great teacher, Jackson, whicn
they desired to improve, because it was learned, as they soreiy
felt, at the cost of grievous stripes, and indignities worse than
those of the dunce-block. But their teacher would .show them
again, that they were not yet instructed enough to descend from
that "bad eminence." Let me explain this first lesson.
The Blue-Ridge, parallel to the great Valley road, is pene-
trated only at certain "gaps," by roads practicable for armies.
On the east of it lay the teeming Piedmont land, untouched by
ravage as yet, and looking towai-ds the capital and the main
army of the Confederacy. This mountain, if Jackson chose to
resort to it, was both his fastness and his '"base of operations";
for the openings of its gaps ottered him natural strongholds,
unassailable by an enemy, with free communication at his rear
for drawing supplies or for retreating. When Banks first pur-
sued him up the Valley, he had turned aside at Harrisonburg
to the eastward, and seated himsi'lf behind the river at Con
rad's Store in the mouth of Swift Run Gap. And then Banks
began to get his first glimpse of his lesson in strategy. He
found that his coveted way (up the great Valley road) 7in7s now
parallel to his enemy s base. Even into his brain did the in-
convenience of such line of advance now insinuate itself, and
he paused at Harrisonburg. Paused awkv;ardly, with the road
open to his coveted prize, Staunton, the strategical key of the
commonwealth, with not a man in gray there to affright his
doughty pickets: the quarry trembling for the expected swoop
of the vulture. Forward, General Banks. Carpe diem; the
road is open I But Banks would not forward — could not I
There was a poised eagle upon the vulture's flank, with talons
and beak ready to tear out the vitals beneath his left wing.
Shall Banks face to the left and drag the eagle from his aerie,
STONEWALL JACKSON. 157
and then advance? Let him try that. Then, there is the water-
tlood in front to be crossed, only by one long, narrow bridge,
which would be manifestly a bridge of Lodi, but not with ob-
tuse, kraut-consuming Austrlans behind it. And there is the
mountain, opening its dread jaws, right and left, to devour the
assailant. Xo. Banks cannot even try that! What then shall
he try? Alas, poor man, he knows not what; he must consider,
sitting meanwhile upon that most pleasant village of Harrison-
burg, amidst its green meadows. Is not the village now his
verital)le dume-stool for the time, where he shall sit, reluctant,
uneasy, "swelling and snubbing," until it appear whether he can
learn his horn-book or not? And it was while he was there
sitting, the horn-book not mastered, that Jackson like the tor-
nado, made his first astounding gyration, his first thunder-clap
at McDowell, away on the western mountain, his second echo-
ing to it from Front Royal on the far east, his crowning, rend-
ing crash at Winchester. And Masters Banks and Shields find
themselves with incomprehensible smoke and dust, clean out-
side the school-room, yea, the play-ground, they scarcely know
how (they "sto )d not on the order of their going"), with eyes
very widely glaring, yet with but little light of speculation in
them.
This was lesson number first. And now say my masters to
each other, ^'This lesson which cost us so dear, learned by buffet-
ings so rude, yea, even kicks, with the bitter chorus of inex-
tinguishable laughter of rivals, shall we not profit by it? Shall
we not use it in our turn? Yea, we will not be always dunces:
we will let people see that we can say, at least, that lesson
again. The lion will retreat surlily, after he brake the toils at
Strasburg, up the great Valley road, growling defiance, huge
ribs of the prey between his jaws. Fremont shall closely pur-
sue his rear with IS.OOO. and Shields shall advance abreast, be-
tween him and the mountain, with S,0()(), to head him off from
his rock-fastness. We shall circumvent him in the open field;
we shall confound him on the right hand and the left; the one
shall amuse him in front, when he stands at bay, and the other
shall smite him by guile under the ribs; and we shall take his
spoils.'' And, therefore, it was that Shields crossed not the
river below, at Strasburg, but remained apart from his mate.
They forgot that it is the prerogative of genius, to have no
I'^^S STONEWALL JACKSON".
need to repeat itself; its resources are ever new; it can invent,
can create upon occasion. It is dull dunce-hood, whick only
knows how to repeat the lesson that has been well beaten into
it. The Southern Lion, then, marches surlily up the great Val-
ley, turning at bay here and there, when the whelps dog his
heels too insolently, with a glare and a growl instructive to
them to observe a wholesome interval; while Ashby, ubiqui-
tious, peers everywhere over the Masanuttin, upon the advance
of Shields — burns bridge after bridge, Mount Jackson bridge.
White House bridge, Columbia bridge, entailing continued in-
sulation upon him. The mighty hunt reaches Harrisonburg.
Will it turn again eastw^ard to the mountain? Shields shall
see, he reaches Conrad's store. There is the old lair, the muni-
tion of rocks, but no Jackson seeking t3 crouch in it; only the
bridge leading to it (and which alone could lead' him out of it),
just in flames. Evidently Jackson will teach some other les-
son this time, and Shields and Fremont must learn it. at what
cost they may. He will turn ea7>tward again, and resort tD the
river and the mountains, whose floods and forests he will make
light for him, even as "the stars in their courses fought against
Sisera,"' but under conditions wholly novel.
Now that you may comprehend Jackson, I must endeavor
to make you see this region of Port Republic, as nearly as may
be. Behold then the side road from Harrisonburg to that til-
lage, passing over sundry miles of those high hills, common to
calcareous regions, (lofty as the highest viewed from the north-
ernmost end of your Druid Hill Park), mostly parallel to each
other, and at right angles to the road, clad also frequently with
woodlands upon their summits, the vales between filled with
farms. Close at the foot of the last of these ridges flows the
shining river, here running almost due east, as does the great
mountain parallel to it, three miles away. Look thitherward,
and between you and that green rampart you see, first the water,
then smooth meadows far below you, spreading wider to the
left, away to Lewiston, until their breadth expands almost to a
mile; while underneath you stretches the long bridge, and nest-
les the white village amidst the level fields. Beyond, the forest
begins, thick, tangled and bosky, pierced by more narrow, ser-
pentine, but easy roadways, than your eye would suspect, and
spreads away, rising into hills as it recedes towards the true
STONEWALL JACKSON. 159
mountain foot. Just below the village comes a sparkling tribu-
tary, South river, deemed scarcely worthy of a bridge, and min-
gles its waters at the angle of the little green with its elder sis-
ter; while the one broad thoroughfare leads up the village and
away to the southwest to Staunton; and the other, fording the
lesser stream to the left, plunges into the forest to seek Brown's
Gap. Look now, far away to the east, where river and moun-
tain begin to lose themselves in the summer haze. You per-
ceive that the tangled wilderness, after embaying one more
modest farm below Lewiston, closes in upon the bank of the
stream, ending for many miles, champaign and tillage, and al-
lowing but one narrow highway to Conrad's Store, fifteen miles
away. Such is your landscape from your elevated outlook
northwest of the river; and this is the chess-board upon which
the master hand is to move knights and -castles, not Ms own
merely, but also his adversary's.
Saturday, the 7th of June, Jackson led all his troops to
those high hills northwest of the river, posting half of them
three miles back, under Ewell, to confront Fremont, and the re-
mainder upon the heights overlooking Port Republic, while he
himself crossed the bridge and lodged in that village. That
evening Fremont sat down before Powell, and Shields, perceiv-
ing that he must seek Jackson still farther, pushed Ins army up
the narrow forest road from Conrad's Store, and showed its
head at Lewiston. Thus, Jackson's army and Fremont's w^ere
upon the one side of the river, Shield's and the village upon the
other. To cross it there remained now but the one passage,
which lay under the muy^zles of Jackson'is cannon, for all the
bridges above and below had been burned.
Fremont and Shields would now, therefore, apply the old
strategy, which red tape once deemed appropriate for the super-
ior numbers. They would surround Jackson on sundry sides,
with divided forces, from different directions, and thus crush
him. The lessons of the old Napoleon had not been enough to
teach them; this new Virginian Napoleon will, perhaps, illum-
inate their obtuseness, but with light too sulpliurous for their
delectation. This old plan, attempted against a wakeful and
rapid adversary, ca})ablc of striking successive^ blows, only in-
vites him "to divide and cdnqucr." This Jackson will now Icai-li
them in his own time, and it shall be lesson humbei' second.
160 STONEWALL JACKSON.
They shall uever strike rogether; iiay, Shields shall never strike
at all. but he stricken: thus hath the master of the game al-
ready decided.
Shall Jackson, then, hold Shields at arms' length, and
strike the larger prey, P"'remout. first? This the impassable
river and the dominant position of his artillery overlooking the
bridge, enabled him to do. He might have driven back
Shields's co-operative advance in the meadows beneath, by a
storm of shells, while he assailed liis partner three miles away;
and Shields might have beguiled the day, by looking helplessly
over at the smoke surging up over the tree-taps, and listening to
the thunder of the battle rolling back to Harrisonburg with
Fremont's defeat; or, by reckoning when his own time would
come, if that better pleased him. Shall Jackson, then, strike
Fremont fir-st? "^Yes," said Ewell: ''Strike the larger game
Urst." But Jackson said, "Xo. The risk is less to deal first
with the weaker. In a battle with Shields, should disaster per-
cliaiur befall us. we shall be near our trains, and our way of
retreat; and true courage, however much prudent audacity it
may venture, never boasts itself invulnerable. But if an in-
auspicious attack were made on Fremont, the defeated Con-
federates would have i)ehind them a deep river, to be crossed
only by one narrow bridge, and a line of retreat threatened by
Shields's unbroken force. Again, Shields defeated, had but
one difficult and narrow line of retreat, between the Hood and
the mountain, and might be probably destw»yed. Fremont, if
defeated, had an open country and many roads by which to re-
tire; and could not be far pursued, with Shields's force still un-
broken threatening our rear." Thus argued Jaclcson, but only
to himself, then; he was wont to give no account of his meas-
ures to others.
Shall Jackson, then, pre})are to deal with his weaker adver-
sary, by withdiawing all his arms to the Southern side, burn-
ing the bridge behind him. and iluis leaving Fremont an idle
spectator of Shields's overthrow? Again, Xo; and for two rea-
sons: First, this would permit Fremont to crown all those
dominating heights on the north side, with his artillery, so that
Shields, though still sejiarated from his friends by the water,
miglit enjoy the etfectual shelter of their guns. And second,
supposing Shields dealt with satisfactorily, then it might be
STONEWALL JACKSON. 161
desired to pay the same polite attentions to Fremont; and Jack-
son meant not to de[>rive himself t:)o soon of the means of ac-
cess to him. Shields, then, shall be tirst attended to, on the
south side; but yet the bridge not destroyed, nor the heights be-
yond surrendered.
Paper No. 2.
(Conclusion.
This ])Ian, then, is clear even to the civic apiii'ehcnsion, as
ottering fewest risks and largest ])r()mise — in a word, the per-
fection of sagacity; and witli s) many men in gray as might
matcli two-fold numbers of enemies (odds ratlier favorable, if
not light and trivial, compared with the customary), it seems to
promise safely. Perhaps some may even say that these reason-
ings are clear and just, even too much so to imply peculiar
genius in Jackson. Remember, friend, Columbus and his egg.
Jackson's performance hath illustrated this problem for you,
made it all plain, which to him was all novel, urgent, and to
have its right soluti:)n by him alone invented, then and there,
under pressure of dire responsibility and penalty :)f portentious
ruin and numifold destruction. Tlipse, friend, thou wouhlst not
have found propitious or helpful for clear meditation and judg-
ment the night of that 7th of June. Jielieve me, the pi-oblem
did not then seem easy, or even soluble to us, as men whispered
by the watch-fires, with bated brt^ath: "Jackson is surrounded.''
Our eyes, then beclouded witli appiehtmsion, confused, saw no
light; but he, clear-eyed and s('i-en(\ with genius braced by his
steadfast heart and devout faith, saw all possibilities, and
whence deliverance might dawn out of seeming darkness. And
these two chiefest ti-aits of greatness I recognized in Jackson
through these transactions: First, that urgent and critical
peril did not agitate nor confuse his reason, nor make him hang
vacillating, uneasy and impotent to decide between the alterna-
tives, but only nerved and steadied his faculties; that he ever
thought best where other men could least think. Second, that
he knew how to distinguish the decisive [wints from the un-
essential, and, grasping tlutse with ircm strength, to form from
tliem an iutlexihle conclusion.
162 STONEWALL JACKSON.
Events, then, had showed Jacksoii these things by the close
of Saturday, June the 7th. Why did he delay to strike this
time, so unlike his wont? The 8th was ''the Sabbath of the
Lord," which he would fain honor always, if the wicked would
let him. Not by him should the sanctity and repose of that
bright, calm Sabbath be broken. When I went to him early,
saying, "I suppose, General, divine service is out of the question
to-day?" his reply was, "Oh, by no means; I hope you will
preach in the Stonewall Brigade, and I shall attend myself —
that is, if we are not disturbed by the enemy." Thus I retired,
to doflf the gray for the time and don the parson's black. But
those enemies cherished no such reverence. As at the first
Manassas, and so many other pitched battles, they selected the
holy day for an unholy deed. They supposed that the toils were
closed again around the prey, and w^ere eager to win the spoils
before they escaped them. Shields, then, imoves first to strike
Jackson's rear, a detachment of cavalry, v^ith two cannon in
front, who sweep away the pickets witli a sudden rush, dash
pell-mell across the lesser river, into the street, almost as soon
as the fugitives who would tell their coming. Then is there at
headquarters mad haste, Jackson leaping into the saddle and
galloping (the pass even now scarcely open) for the bridge and
his army; Statf fiollowing as they may; one and another too late
(as Colonel Crutchfield, our Chief of Artillery), and captured in
mid street; a few yet, more too late, and wholly unable to fol-
low; I, of course, again doffing the black to don the gray, among
these last. Right briskly did those invaders (bold, quick men,
for Yankees), occupy the village, plant cannon at each end of it,
spy out Jackson's trains, and begin to reach forth the hand to
grasp them, while we, cut off and almost powerless, make such
resistance as we may. Haste thee. Master Sliields. "What thou
doest do quickly!" forNEMESisis coming, and thy time is short
— too short, alas! for Shields, for mortal man; for lo! yonder,
one hath clattered through the bridge, and bounding up the
heights where the forces lay, pressed his steed with burning
spurs, Ills visage all aglow and blue eye blazing, and shouts:
"Beat the Long Roll!" Drums roll with palpitating throb; men
spring to the ranks, cannoneers harness; and ere Shields can
brush away the flimsy obstacles between him and the trains, al-
ready Jackson conies streaming back with Poague's battery and
STONEWALL JACKSON. 163
Fulkersou's tall riflemen — streamiii<i' down tlic hill, :i ll,isliiii>;
Torrent. There is one crash of thunder, n\e rin^iu<;- vollev, one
wild yell; the bayonets gleam througli the shadowy cavern of
the bridge, and the thing is done. Hostile cannon lie disabled,
horses weltering around them in blood; intruders flee pell-mell,
splashing through the stream, whither they came; while Jack-
son stands alone, aver on the green hillside, still, calm, and rev-
erent, his hand lifted in prayer and thanksgiving that the village
is won again. But it is only for a moment, for he knows what
more remains to be done. He remounrs the heights, and there,
sure enough, is Shields's army advancing up rlic meadows from
Lewiston, ranks dressed, banners flying, in all the bravery of
their pamp. Jackson utters a few quiet words, and Poague a
guns, reinforced by others, remove to the next hill, depress their
grim muzzles, and rain down an iron storm across the river,
which lashes Shields back to his covert.
Jackson trusted Providences and here Providence took care
of him in a most timely way. Our Colonel Crutchfield, detained
amidst his captors in the village street, shall tell how the inter-
vention looked from his point of view. The cavalry Colonel com-
manding Shields's advance had only just disarmed him, when a
Yankee vidette, wha had ventured a little up the Staunton
Road, came hurrying back, his eyes glaring with elation, and ex-
claimed: "Colonel Carrell! you have as good as got Jackson's
trains; they are right above here, in sight; I have seen thous-
ands of the white wagon-covers shining! You have nothing to
da but ride forward and take them'." "Yes!" avouched Crutch-
field's despairing thought, "he has them! There are no train-
guards, and those white sheets, as I wofully know, are the cov-
ers of my ordnance-train, c antaining all tlie artillery ammuni-
tion and most of the other for the whole army. Colonel Carrell
may not remain heie permanently, but nathing can prevent his
riding thither and doing irreparable mischief before Jackson's
return."
Such was also the Yankee's thought, for he immediately or-
dered a strong squadron of his cavalry to go uj) and cajiture
those trains. So the horsemen formed in c »lumn and advanced
up the street, leaving Colonel Crutchfield in silent des[tair. liut
near the head of that street they were met by a discharge of can-
ister at close quarters. The balls came ricocheting down the
164 STONEWALL JACKSON.
road amidst tlie liorses" lejis, and back caiue the coluiim in head
long tiight, with a tempest of dust. Said Crutchfield's thoughts
to him: "Did those cannons drop from the slcies? Did the an-
gels fire them? I tliought I was artillery-chief to that army, and
had posted all the guns, and I thought I knew tliat there was no
artillery there." Kut none the less did the mystenous guns hold
their post, despite the cannonading of the Yankee batteryaccom-
panj'ing their advance; and whenever the attacking column of
cavalry was advanced, lash it back to the side-alleys with canis-
ter-shot until Jackson re-occupied the village.
The explanation was that there was a new battery, that of
Captain Carrington, of Albemarle, just arrived, which Colonel
Crutchfield had found so partially equipped and so absolutely
unskilled, that he had relegated it with the baggage, and thus
had actually discounted it in his mind as anything more tlian
baggage. Two guns of this battery had been brought forward,
with fragments of the fleeing Confederate pickets for supports,
and with that audacity which, as Jackson taught, was on some
occasions the most timely discretion, had made its little fight
and saved the trains.
But now the cannonade answers back from Cross-Keys,
where Fremont crowds upon Ewell, endeavoring to keep his
part of the rendezvous. How the fight raged there through the
day, while Jackson vibrated thither and back, watchful of all
points, I need not detain you to relate; for your history-books
may tell you all this, as also how Ewell hurled back his adver-
sary, and held his own stoutly at all points. One little thing I
may relate, not flattering to myself, which may be to you a reve-
lation of Jackson's mind, (and may also be taken as an example
of the scant encouragement which suggestions from subordin-
ates usually met). As he sat upon his horse, scanning the re-
gion whither Shields had retired, I moved to his side and
asked: ''There is, then, a general action at Cross-Keys?" The
answer was an affirmative nod. "Then General Shields will not
be blind to the impin-tance of his co-operating in it; he will sure-
ly attack you again to-day?" Hereupon he turned upon me. as
though vexed with my obtuseness, with brows knit, and waving
his clenched fist towards the commanding positions of the artil-
lerv near him. said: "No. sir; he cannot do it, sir. I should tear
Mm to pieces!" And Shields did not do it, because he could
not!
STONEWALL JACKSON. 165
The two Yankee Generals have now had their forwardness
a little rebuked; are taught to keep their places quietly until
they are wanted. The Sabbath-eve has descended as calmly as
though no blood or crime had polluted it, and Jackson has rest-
ed until the mid-night hour ushers in the working day with a
waning moon. He then addresses himself t'o his work and
takes the aggressive. The trains are sent over to Powell to carry
rations to his hungry men and to replenish the guns with their
horrid food; a foot bridge is prepared for the infantry over
South river, by which they may be passed towards Lewiston.
Ewell is directed to creep away at daybreak, from Fremont's
front, leaving only a skirmish line to amuse him, and to concen-
trate against Shields. Colonel Pattou, one of the two com-
manders wIdo are to lead this line, is sent for to receive his per-
sonal instructions from Jackson. "I found him," says Colonel
Patton, "in the small hours of the night, erect, and elate with
animation and pleasure. He began by saying: 'I am going to
fight. Yes, we shall engage Shields this morning at sunrise.
Now, I wish you to throw out all yjur men before Fremont as
skirmishers, and to make a great show, so as to cause the enemy
to think the whole army are behind you. Hold your position
as well as you can; then fall back when obliged; take a new po-
sition; hold it in the same way, and I will be back to join you in
the morning.' " Colonel Patton ren)inded him that his brigade
was small, and that the countiy between Cross-Keys and the
Shenandoah afforded few natural advantages for protecting
such manoeuvres. He therefore desired to ku'ow for how long
a time he would be expected to hold Fremont in check. He re-
plied: '"By the blessing of Providence, I hope to ibe back by ten
o'clock.'"
Here then we have the disclosure of his real plan to which
he makes no reference in his own otficial report. He proposed
to finish with Shields, peradveuture to finish Shields, by ten
o'clock. P^ive hours should be enough to settle^« accdunt, and
he would then go straight back to see after P^remont. \\y ten
o'clock of the same day he would meet his retreating skirmish
lin(^ north of the river, arrest the retrograde UKtvenu-nt and be
ready, if Fremont had stomach for it, to tight a second pitched
battle with his army, more than double the one vanquished in
the morning. As to the measure of Shield's disaster, it was to
166 STONEWALL JACKSON.
be complete; dispersion and caprure of his whole force, with all
his material. As Napoleon curtly said at the battle of Rivoli,
concerning the Austrian division detached around the mounrain
to beset his rear: "//j- sont a nous;" so it seems had Jackson
decreed of Shields's men: "They belong to us." This the whole
disposition of his battle clearly discloses. I hare described to
you the position which Shields had assumed at Lewiston, with
his line stretching from the forest to the river. Behind him
were a few more smooth and open fields; and then the wilder-
ness closed in to the river, tangled and trackless, overlooking
the position of the Federal line in height, and ali)wing but one
narrow track to the rear. It was a true funnel — almost a cul de
sac. These then, were Jackson's dispositions. (General Kich-
ard Taylor, with his Louisiana Itrigade. accompanied by a bat-
tery of artillery, was to jdunge into the woods by th )se tortuous
tracks which I have mentioned, to creep through the labyrinths,
avoiding all disturbance of the enemy, until he had passed clear
beyond his left, was to enfilade his short and crowded line, was
to find position for his battery on some commanding hillock at
the edge of the copsewood, and w^as to control the narrow road
which offered the only line of retreat. The Stonewall brigade
was to amuse the enemy meantime, in fruit, until these fatal
adjustments were made, when the main weight of the army
should crowd upon them, and the}' should be driven back upon
the impassible river, hemmed in from their retreat, cannonaded
from superior positions, ground, in short, between the uj/per
and nether millstones, dissipated and captured. This was the
moraing's meal with which Jacks in would break his fast. Then,
for his afternoon work, he designed to re-occupy his formidable
position in front of Fremont upon the north of the river, and
either fight and win another battle the same day, or postpone
the coup de grace to his second adversaiy until the next morn-
ing, as circumstances might dictate.
Such was the splendid audacity of Jackson's real design.
Only a part of it was accomplished; you may infer that only a
part of it was feasible, and tliat the design was too audacious
to be all realized. I do not think so; only two trivial circum-
stances prevented the actual realization of the whole. When
the main weight of the Confederate army was thrown against
Shields he was crushed (though not captured) in the space of
STOTSTEWALL JACKSON. 167
two hours. Again, Fremont had been, on the previous day, so
rou^i^hly handled by Ewell, with six thousand men, that he did
not venture even to feel the Confederate positron, guarded real-
ly only by a skirmish line, until ten o'clock the next day, and
such was his ovrn apprehension of his weakness, that as soon as
he learned Shields's disaster definitely, he retreated with haste,
even though there was now no bridge by which Jackson might
reach him. Why then a performance so short of the magnifi-
cent conception? The answer was in two little circumstances.
The guide who thought he knew the paths by which to lead Gen-
eral Taylor to the enemy's rear (a professional offlcer of the en-
gineers) did not know; he became confused in the labyrinth; he
led out the head of the column unexpectedly in front of instead
of bej'ond their left, and General Taylor concluded he had no
choice but to hold his ground and precipitate the attack. That
was blunder first; a little one seemingly, but pregnant with dis-
appointment. And here let me remark upon a mischievous
specimen of red-tapeism, which I saw often practiced to our det-
riment, even sometimes by Jackson, who was least bound by
professional trammels. It was the employing of engineer offi-
cers, with their pocket compasses and ijretty, red and blue cray-
on, hypotlietical maps, as country guides; instead of the men
of the vicinage witli local knowledge. Far better would it have
been for Jackson had he now inquired among Ashby's troopers
for the boy who had hunted foxes and rabbits through the
coppices around Lewiston. Him should he have set to guide
Taylor's brigade to the enemy's rear, with a Captain's com-
mission before him if he guided it to victory, and a pistol's
muzzle behind his left ear in case he i)layed false.
The other blunder was, in appearance, even more trivial:
The footbridge, constructed 'by moonlight, and designed to
pass four men abreast, proved at one point so unsteady' that
only a single plank of it could be safely used. Tlius, what was
designed to be a mas^^ive column was reduced from that point
onward to a straggling ''Indian file." Instead of passing over
the infanti'y in the early morning, we were still urging them
forward when the appointed ten o'clock had come and gone,
and the first attack on Shields, made with forces wholly in-
adequate, had met with a bloody repulse. Jackson, burning
with eagerness, had flown to the frcmt as soon as the Stone-
168 STONEWALL JACKSON.
wall bi'ijiade was passed over, leaviii<>;- to nie a strict iiijmicti(»n
to lemaiu at the bridge and expedite the crossing of the oth-
er troops. First the returning trains, mingled in almost inex-
tricable confusion with the marching column, was to be disen-
tangled, amidsr iiinch wrong-headedness of little Q. M.'s
swollen with a mite of brief authority. This effectually done;
the defect of the bridge disclosed itself. Can it not be speed-
ily remedied? No; not wirhour a total arrest of the living
stream, which none dared to order. Then began I to suggest,
to advise, to urge, that the bridge be disused wholly and that
the men take to the water en masse (kindly June waterj. For
altlijugh it was Jackson's wont to enlighten none as to his
plans; yet even my inexperienced ear was taught by the can-
non thundering at Lewiston, that we should all have been, ere
this,, there; not pothering /i(jr<;, in straggling Indian tile, ^^'ell
did I know how Jackson's soul at that hcjur would avDUch that
word of Xai)oleon: ''Ask me for anything but tinie^'' But no:
"Generals had their orders: to march by the bridge." "They
would usurp no discretion." I'unctilious obedient men they!
"keeping the word of ])r()mise to the ears, but breaking it to
the sense." ^^'ell. in such fashion was the golden opporttmity
lost; and Jackson, at uiid-day. instead of returning victorious
to confront Fremont, must send word to his skirmisli line, to
come aw^ay and ]»nni the bridge l)eliind them, while he rein-
forces liis battle against Shields and crushes down his stubborn
(yea right gallant) resistance, with stern decision. Thus he
must content himself with one vict(u-y instead of two, and in
that one, chase his enemy away like a baffled wolf instead of
ensnaring him wiiolly and drawing his fangs.
Who can hear this story of victory thus organized and al-
most within the grasp — victory wliich should have been more
splendid than Marengo — so shorn of half its rays, without feel-
ing a pungent, burning, sympathetic disappointment"? Did not
such a will as Jacks(m's then surge like a volcano at this de-
fault? No. There was no fury chafing against the miscarriage,
no discontent, uo rebuke. Calm and contented, Jackson rode
back from the i»ui-suit and devoted himself to the care of the
wounded and to prudent precautions for protectioii. '"God did
it.'''' That was his philosophy. There is an omniscient Mind
which purposes, an ever present Providence which superin-
STONEWALL JACKSON. 169
tends; so that when rlie eveut has finally disclosed his will, the
iijod man has fonnd onr what is best. He did not know it
before, and therefoie he followed, with all his might, the best
lights of his own inipeifect reason; but now that (lad has
told him. by the issne, it is his part to stndy aeqniesrenc-e —
Such was "Stonewall Jackson's way."
This, my friends, is a bright dream, but it is passed awa.y.
Jackson is gone, and the cause is gone. All the victories which
he won are lost again. The penalty we pay for tlie pleasure of
the dream is the pain jf the awakening. I profess unto von
tliat one of the most consoling thoughts which remain to me
amidst the waking realties of the ijresent, is this: that Jack-
son and other spirits like him are spared the defeat. I find
that many minds sympathize with me in the species of awful
curiosity to know what Jackson would Itave d.ine at our final
surrender. It is a strange, a startling conjunction of thoughts:
Jackson, with his giant will, his unblenching faith, his heroic
devotion, face to face, after all, with the lost cause! What
would he have djne? This questiiui has been often asked me,
and my answer has always been: In no event could Jackson
have survived to see the cause lost. What, you say: would
he have been guilty of suicide? Would he. in the last-lost-
battle, have sacrificed him.self upon his country's funeral pyre?
Xo. But I believe that as his clear eye saw the approaching
catastrophe, his faithful zeal wjuld have spurred liini to strive
ao devotedly to avert it that he would either have overwrought
his powers or met his death in generous forgetfulness (not in
intentional desperation) on the foremjst edge of the battle.
Forhiin there wasdestined to be no subjugationi The (rod whom
he served .so well was too gracious to his favorite S3n. Less
faithful servants, like us. may need this bitter scourge. He
was nu^eter for his reward.
Yes, there is solid cousolalion in tlie thought: -lackson is
dead. Does it seem sometinu's as we stand beside the little
ffreen m:)und at the Lexington graveyard, a right pitiful thing,
that here, beneatli these few feet of turf, garnished with no
memorial but a faded wreath (faded like the cause he loved)
and the modest little stone i)laced there by the treuibling hand
of a weeping woman (only hand generous and brave enough
170 STOXEWALL JACKSON.
even to rear a stoue to Jackson in all the broad land baptized
bj his heart's bhiod). that there lips all this woi-ld eonraius of
that great glory. That this pure devotion, this niatehless cour-
age, this towering genius are all clean gone forever out of this
earth; gone amidst the utter wreck of the beloved cause which
inspiied them. Ah. but it was more pitiful to see a Lee bear-
ing his proud, sad head above that s^d, surrounded by the
skeleton of that wreck, head stately as of old. yet bleached
prematurely by irremediable sorrow, with that eye revealing
its measureless depths of grief even beneath its patient smile.
More pitiful to see the great heart break with an anguish which
it would not stoop to utter, because it must beh;ild its coun-
try's death, and was forbidden of God to die before it. But
pitifulest of all is the sight of those former comrades of Jack-
SJn and Lee. who are willing to live and to be basely consoled
with the lures of the ojtpressor. and who thus survive not only
tlieir country, but their own manhood. Yes. beside that sight
the grave of Jackson is luminous with joy.
I well remember the only time when I saw him admit a
DroguDstic of final defeat. It was a Sabbath day of May, 1862,
as bright and calm as that wliich ushered in the battle of Port
"Rt^public. We were riding alone, slowly, to a religious service
in a distant camp, and communing of our cause, not then as
superior with inferior, but as friend witli fi-iend. I disclosed
to Jackson the grounds of tlie a]»])rehensions which I always
harbored in secret, but which I made it my duty to conceal,
after the strife was once unavoidable, from every mortal save
hitii. He defended his more cheei-ful hojies. He urged the sur-
prising success of the Confederate goveinment in organizing
armies and acquiring material of war in the face of an adver-
sary who would have been deemed overwhelming, and espec-
ially the goodness of Divine Providence in giving us. so far.
so many deliverances. I re-asserted my apprehensions with a
pertinacity which was. perhaps, uncivil. I pointed out that
the people were not rising as a whole to the height of the ter-
rible crisis. That while the minority (all honor to them) were
nobly sacrificing themselves in the breach, others were venal
and selfish, eager to depute to hii-eling substitutes the glor-
ious privilege of defending their own homes and rights, and
tu make a sordid traffic out af the necessities of the glorious
STONEWALL JACKSON. 171
martyrs who were at the front dyiii};' for them. Tliat it was
at least questionable whether such men were not predestined
slaves. That the government was manifestly unequal to the
arduous enterprise and entangled in the plodding precedent.?
of dull mediocrity, instead of rising to the exertion i>f lofty
genius and heroism. Witness, for instance, the deplorable mili-
tary policy which left our first critical victory without fruits;
a blunder wliich no government would be allowed by a right-
eous Providence to repeat often, with impunity; because it is
as truly a law of God's administi'ation, as of his grace, which
is expressed in the fearful question: "How can ye escape who
neglect so great salvation?" That neither government nor
people seemed awake to the absolute necessity of striking
quickly in a revolutionary war like ours; l)ut they were settling
down to a regular, protracted contest, in wliich the machinery
of professional warfare would gradually, but sureh', abolish
that superiority- of the Southern citizen-soldier over the Yankee
mercenary, which the honor and courage of the former gave
him while both were undrilled; a routine- war in which we
should measure our limited resources against their unlimited
ones, instead of measuring ijatrioric gallantry against slug-
gishness. That the final issue of such a struggle must be the
exhaustion of our means of resistance by gradual attrition,
which would render all our victories unavailing. At length,
as I enlarged upon the points, Jackson turned himself upon his
saddle towards me and said, with a smile which yet had a
serious meaning in it: "Stop, Major Dabney; you will make
me low-spirited!" He then rode in silence for some moments,
and said as though to himself: "T don't profess any romantic
indifference to life; and certainly, in my own private relations,
I have as much that is dear to wish to live for, as any man.
Bnt I do not desire to survive the independence of my country.''
These words were uttered with a profound, pensive earnest-
ness, which eft'ectually ended the debate.
Jackson prayed for the independence of his country; or,
if that might not be. he desired not to survive its overthrow.
(xod could not grant the former, for reasons to be seen anon,
wherefore he granted the latter. The man died at the right
time. He served the purpose of the Divine Wisdom in his
generation. He went upward and onward upon the ftood-tide
172 STOiNJiWALL JACKSON.
(;t' his fume aud <:^i-earue.ss. uutil it i-caclied its vei-y acme; and
tlieuce lie weut up to liis rest. After that ca.iiie the ebb-tide,
the stranding-, aud the wreck. This, surely, is a siuj;ular mark
of Heaven's favoi-. lifting him almost to the rank of that ante-
diluvian hero "wlio walked with God. and he was n^t; for God
took him.*' When his fame and success were at their zenith,
never yet blighted by disaster; when the cause he loved better
than life was most hopeful; wlien ht- liad just performed his
most brilliant exploit, and cuuld lea\e his counti-y all jubilant
with his j)raise. aud glowing witli gratitude for his deliver-
ance; before the coming wje had iiroj(^cted upon his spirit even
the fringe of that sliadow whidi wonhl liave ])een to him cold-
er than death — that was the time fdi- Jackson to be translated.
The otlu'r thing, which alone would liave been better — to
lead his counti-y on fi-oni triumph t t triumiih to final deliver-
ance— to hang up his sword in the sanctuary, and to sit down
a freeman amidst the people he had saved — fhat we would not
permit God to effect; and that we were not tit to liave such
deliverance wrought for us. even by a Jackson, this God
would demonstrate before he took him away; for tlie true great
man is a gift from lieaven. informed with a portion of its own
life and tire. Some small critics liave argued that gi-eat men
are born in their times; that tlu^y are mere impers (nations of
the moral forces common to their contemporaries. This, be
assured, may be true of that species of little great men. of
whom Shakespeare writes, that "they liave greatnes.s thrust on
rliem." The true hero is not made by his times, but makes
f/iem, if indeed nial(M-ial of greatness he in tlieiii. They wait
for him, in s )re need, perhaps, of his kindling touch, groping in
P'erilous darkness towards destruction, for want of his true
light: they produce him not. God sends him. There be three
missions for such a true great man among men. If "the in-
i(iuity of the Amorites is already full."" the Great Power, the
wicked great man. Caesar or Xapoh^ »n. is sent among them to
seduce them to their ruin. If they be wortliy of greatness, and
have in them any true substance to be kindled by the heroic
fire, the good hero, your Moses or Washington, shall be sent
unto them for deliverance. If it be not yet manifest t :> men
whether the times be the one or the other. Amoritish. utterly
reprobate, and fit only for anarchy or slavery, or else with
STONEWALL JACKSON. 173
seed of nobleness in them, and capable of true glory (though to
Him who commissions the hero there be no mystery nor contin-
gency wliich is not manifest), then will he send one, or perad-
venture several, wlio shall be touchstones to that people, to
"try them so as ])y tire,'' whether there be worth in them or
no. And then shall this Ood-sent man show forth an exem-
])lar to his pe;i]»l('. whidi shall be unto them a test, whether
th.ey, having eyes, see, or see not the true glory and right, and
whether they have hearts to understand and love it. And
then shall he bring nigh deliverances unto them, full of prom-
ise and hope, 3'et mutable, which are (xod's overtures saving
unto them: "Come now and let us reason togetliei-. If ye be
willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of tlie land; but if
ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword; for
the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." Will ye, or will ye
not? Thus was Jackson God's interrogatory ro this people,
saying to them: ''Will ye be like him, and be saved? Lo,
there! AYhat would a nation of Jacksons be? That may ye
be! How righteousness exalteth a people! Shall this judg-
ment and righteousness 'be the stability of thy times, O Con-
federate, and strength of thy salvation?'" And these mighty
deliverances at .^lanassas, AMncliester. I'oi-t Kepublic. Chick-
ahominy. Fredericksburg. Chancellorsville, were they not mani-
fest overtures to us to have the (xod of Jackson and Lee for
our God, and be sav«^d? ''Here is the path; walk ye in it."
And what said our ])e()ple? Many honestly answered.
"Yea, Lord, we will"; of whom the larger part walked whither
Jackson did, and now lie with him in gloiy. lint another part
answered, "Nay," and they live. :)n sudi terms as we see, even
s'lch as they elected. To them, also, it was plain that Jack-
son's ti'uth and justice and devotion to duty wei-e the things
that made him great and unconquerable. Kven the wicked
avouched this. Therefore a nation of sucli like men must
needs be uncon(|uerable and free, liut they would not be free
on such terms. Nay; they preferi-ed I'ather to walk after their
own vanities. Verily tliey huve their reward! Let tlie c)ntras!
appear in two ]»oints. -lackson writes thus to his wife:
"You had better not sell your coupons from the" (Gonfed
crate) "bonds, as I undcM'stand tliey ar(» paid in gold; but let
the Confederacy keep the gold. Citizens should not receive a
cenrof gold from the government when it is so scarce."
174 STONEWALL JACKSON.
Set over agaiust this the spectacle of almost the mauy, ex-
cept the soldiers, gone mad at the enhancement of prices with
s])ecu]ation and extortion, greedj' to rake together paper
money, mere rags and trash, while such as Jackson were pour-
ing out money and blood in the death grapple for them. Take
arofher: He writes to his wife, Christmas, 1862, in answer to
the inquiry whether he could not visit her, and see the child
upon whicli he liad never lojked, while the army was in winter-
quarters:
"It appears to me that it is better for me to remain with
my command so long as the war continues, if our ever-gracious
Heavenly Father permits. The army suffers immensel}- by
absentees. If all our troops, officers and men, were at their
posts, we might, through God's blessing, expect a more speedy
termination of the war. The temporal affairs of same are so de-
ranged as to make a strong plea for their returning home for
a short time; but our Grod has greath' blessed me and mine dur-
ing my absence; and whilst it would be a great comfort to see
you, and my darling little daughter, and others in whom I take
special interest, yet duty apjiears to require me to remain with
my command. It is most important that those at headquarters
set an example by remaining at the post of duty."
Look now from this picture of steadfastness in duty to the
multitudes of absentees and of stalwart young men shirking the
army by every slippery expedient. So these answered back to
God's overture: "Mammon is dearer than manhood, and in-
glorious ease than liberty." The disclosure was now made that
this people could not righteously be free, was not fit for it, and
that God was just. Jackson could now go home to his rest.
He in the haven, the ebb-tide might begin; he safely housed, the
storm of adversity might burst.
The thing to be most painfully pondered then, by this peo-
ple, is: Whether the fate of Jackson, and such like, is not
proof that we have been weighed in the balances and found
wanting? How readeth the handwriting on the wall? Not
hopefully, in verity of truth, if Truth, which heroes worship,
be indeed eternal, and be destined to assert herself ever. Jack-
son, alas, lies low, under the little hillock in Lexington grave-
yard, and Lee frets out his great heart-strings at tliis world-
wide vision of falsehood and vile lucre, cruel as sordid, trium-
STONEWALL JACKSON. 175
phaut, iinwliipped of justice; while tlie men who i-ide prosper-
ously are they who sell themselves to work iniquity, and who
say "Evil, be thou my goad." Yea, these are the men whom
the people delighteth to honor; to wliom ihr clnirches and min-
isters of God in this land bow down, juorlaiming: "Verily suc-
cess is divine; and Might it maketli right; and the Tower of
this world, it shall be God unto us." And while the grave of
heroic Truth and virtue has no other memento than the humble
stone placed there by a feeble woman's hand, pompous monu-
ments of successful wrong affront the skies with their altitude,
''calling evil good and goad evil, and putting darkness for light
and light for darkness." We fear that when Truth shall re-as-
sert herself it will go ill with this generation.
THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.
Dr. L. R. Dickinson, Editor Planter and Farmer. — Dear
Sir: I have read the essays of "Civis" in your December, Jan-
n;iry and February numbers with profound interest, and with
general approbatian. Concurring fully with him in the oppo-
sition to the whole theory of primary education by the State,
I also feel the force of his views concerning the negro and the
common school. For some year;? I have had strong convic-
lions of the falsehood and deadly tendencies of the the Yankee
theory of popular State education; and I confess that the in-
IhuMii-e which prevented my lifting up my voice against it was,
simpl}-, the belief that so puny a voice could etfect nothing
against the prevalent "craze" whicli has infected the country
on this subject. You may conceive, therefore, the satisfaction
with which I saw ''Civis'' take up the cause of truth in the col-
umns of \\\^ Eeligious Herald, and subsequently in the Planter
and Farmer, and my admiration for his moral courage, elo-
quence and invincible logic. With such champions, the cause
of truth is not so hopeless as I feared. ^Vith equal satisfaction
I have seen the Kev. Dr. John Miller, long an honored citizen
of Virginia, and a gallant soldier in her arni}^ arguing the same
truth in the Tribune, with even more tlian his wonted terse-
ness, boldness and condensed logic There is another sign that
the cause of truth is not wholly lost: this is the new zeal of the
self-constituted protectors of this Yankee heresy in Virginia,
in circulating arguments and pleas for their error. These docu-
ments have had no other etfect on my mind than to awaken the
wish that, if we must, perforce, have this false system imposed
on us by our conquerors, any executive agency, created to ad-
minister the ill-starred plan, might at least have the modesty to
stick to its appointed business, and not waste the money of the
people in the attempt to manufacture among the people an er-
roneous public opinion. It is enough to be taxed heavily,
against my judgment, for a quixotic project, which can never
176
tM;te NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 177
do iiie or any one else any ^ood. I am unju.-i;tly forceJ to su;--
render my money; but I beg leave to preserve the privilege of
doing my own tliinking. At least, I do not propose docilely to
receive mj^ opinions on it from those, who, in advocating the
system, are also advocating their own official emoluments.
While speaking of the general subject, I am tempted to
notice a recent argument which is tiaunted before us: this is, the
rapidly increasing popularity, which, it is claimed, the plan is
winning at the South. The reply is, that if this popularity is
growing, it exactly confirms the argument of "Civis," that the
system is agrarian, corrupting, subsidizing the people and de-
bauching their independence. Imperial donatives to the Roman
populace became very popular; true, but they poisoned the last
good element of Roman character, and helped to complete the
putrescence of the empire. I fear it is only too true, that this
cunning cheat of Yankee state-craft ti alluring the poor, har-
assed Southern parent; and that he is yielding to the bait,
which promises deceitfully to relieve him of his parental re-
sponsibility. A bribe, alas, may become easily popular in de-
cadent times.
But, you asked for my opinion of this fearful question of
the negro in our common schools. It is not necessary for me
to repeat the points so strongly put hy'Civis.'"' To one of them
onl}', I would add my voice: the unrighteousness of expending
vast sums, wrung by a grinding taxation from our oppressed
people, upon a pretended education of freed slaves; when the
State can neither pay its debts, nor attend to its own legitimate
interests. Law and common lionesty botli endorse the maxim:
"A man must be just before he is generous." The action of the
State, in wasting this money thus, which is due to her creditors,
is as inexcusable as it is fantastical. I do know that not a few
of our white brethren, before the war, independent and intelli-
gent, are now prevented from educating their own children, be-
cause they are compelled to keep them in the corn-field, labor-
ing from year's end to year's end, to raise these taxes to give a
pretended education to the brats of the black paupers, who are
loafing around their plantations, stealing a part of the scanty
crops and stock their poor, struggling boys are able to raise.
Not seldom has this pitiful sight nmde my blood boil with in-
dignation, and then made my heart bleed with the thought:
178 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.
"How mournfully complete is that subjugation, which has made
men, who were once Virginians, submit tamely to this burning
wrong?" "The offense is rank, and smells to Heaven." Thank
Grod, that I have only to pay, and have nothing to do with the
imposition, collection and disbursement of this shameful exac-
tion.
The argument by which they endeavor to reconcile us to
it is always this: "Negro suffrage is a fixed fact; Virginians
cannot help it; and if the negro is to share in governing the
State, our interest is to qualify him for doing so, by educating
him." To this argument many well-meaning men reluctantly
yield. My first remark upon it is : That I am not at all clear,
that candor, or truth, or self-respect will allow any Virginian
thus to accept the impossible onus, which conquest seeks to
impose on us. Radicalism thrusts upon us this fatal innova-
tion of negro suffrage; and then requires of us a promise that
we will undertake to makf it work safely and beneficently. 1
beg leave to demur from making any such promise. I do not
tnean to divide with the conqueror the ofius of his ruthless and
murderous crime against liberty and civilization. He has com-
mitted it; let him bear its responsibility. If it is not undone, it
will destroy both American liberty and civilization. If I could
prevent that result, I would; and if I believed that I could, 1
would promise to try. But, knowing that I cannot prevent that
result, and that no human power can, unless the crime be re-
tracted, I do not mean to make a deceitful promise, or to divide
the damning responsibility of the crime with its perpetrators.
If I saw a ruthless quack proposing to divide a man's carotid
artery, in a mad surgical experiment, and he should ask me to
promise to tie it up, so as to remedy the murder he was com-
mitting, I should tell him that, however anxious to save the life
of his victim, I was not able to do it by tying up a carotid ar-
tery, and could not promise. If he persevered in murdering the
man, he must bear the guilt alone.
For, second: the pretended education which Virginia is
now giving, at so heavy a cost, to the negroes, is, as a remedy
for negro suffrage, utterly deceptive, farcical and dishonest.
The tenor of the argument concedes, what every man, not a
fool, knows to be true: that the negroes, as a 'body, are now
glaringly unfit for the privilege of voting. What makes them
'tttE NKGkO Aisrb TilE 60MkON SCHOOL. tV§
unlit? kSiuIi things as these: The inexorable barrier of alien
race, color, and natural character, between them and that other
race which constitutes the bulk of Americans: a dense ignor-
ance of the rights; and duties of citizenship: an almost universal
lack of that share in the property of the country, which alone
can <4ve responsibility, jjatriotic interest and independence to
the voter: a general moral grade so deplorably low as to per-
mit their being driven or bought like a herd of sheep by the
demagogue: a parasitical servility and dependency of nature,
which characterizes the race everywhere, and in all ages: an al-
most total lack of real persevering aspirations: and last, an
obstinate set of false traditions, which bind him as a mere serf
to a party, which is the born enemy of every righteous interest
of our State. Let the reader look at that list of ailments. Not
an item can ))e disputed. Now. our political quacks propose to
cure them, and that in such time as will save the Commonwealth
before the infection becomes mortal. And liov\'? V>y such an
infusion of (not education, but) a modictini of the arts of read-
ing, writing, and cyphering; which are at best uncertain means,
only, for educating; and that, such a modicum as the kind of
teachers and schoiols Virginia can now get, will infuse through
the wool of such heads. Does any sane man really believe this
remedy will do that vast work? Nay, verily, "Leviathan is not
so tamed." Or, to return to the former trope, we may use the
exclamation of John Randolph against a weak book, which was
proposed to him, as an antidote for the malignant ability of
Bolingbroke's infidelity. "Venice treacle, and syrup, against
ArsenicV Whether this remedy will save us, may be settled
by an argument of fact, unanswerable to every patriotic Vir-
ginian. The Yankees have had this "nostrum" of free school
education, in fnll force, for two genei-ations. Has it reared up
among them, out of white people, a jjopular mass fit to enjoy
universal suffrage? Did not this very system rear us that very
generation, which, in its blind ignorance and brutal passion, has
recently wrecked the institutions of America; has filled our
country with destitution, woe and murder; and, with a stupid
blindness, only equalled by its wickedness, has stripped its own
Commonwealths, in order to wreak its mad spite on ours, of
the whole safeguards for their own freedom and peace? These
are the /ruits of this Yankee system of State primary educa-
180 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.
tiou, as working ou a white race. Will it work better ou a
black race? I have not yet learned enough of that type of
"intelligence" which this system seems to foster, to repudiate
my Saviour's infallible maxim, "the tree is ku3wn by its fruits."
The Yankee has bragged so much of his "intelligence," of his
floods of books and oceans of newspapers, that some Southern
people seem "dazed" by the clamor. Well; there may be "fus-
siness," there may be plenty of self-conceit, and flippancy; but
I stand simply and firmly 'by this impregnable fact : This sys-
tem has not given the Yankee true wisdom enough to prevent
his destroying the country and himself. What mere self-delu-
sion is it, to dream that it will give this quality to the negro?
But, third: There are causes peculiar to the negro and the
South, which leave us no hope that this so-called system of free
schools will produce even as much fruit as in Xew England or
New York. One is the fact which "Civis" has so boldly stated:
The black race is an alien one on our soil; and nothing except
his amalgamation with ours, or his subordination to ours, can
prevent the rise of that instinctive antipath}' of race, which,
history shows, always arises between opposite races in prox-
imity. Another cause is the natural indolence of the negro
character, which finds precisely its desired pretext, in this pre-
tended work of going to school. Still another is the universal
disposition of the young negro to construe his "liberty" as
meaning precisely, privilege of idleness. It was easy to see
that the free school must needs produce the very result which
it is usually producing, under such exceptional circumstances;
not education, but discontent \sith, and unfitness for, the free
negro's inevitable sphere and destiny — if he is to have any good
destiny— manual labor. With such teachers, such parents as
the negro parents, and such material, it was hopeless to expect
any really beneficial knowledge of the literary arts to be dif-
fused among this great mass of black children. The only thing
the most of them really learn is a fatal confirmation in the no-
tion that "freedom" means living without work, and a great
enhancement of the determination to grasp that privilege. The
one commanding and imperative necessity of the young negro
at the end of the war, in the eyes of any sober philanthropist,
was this: that he should be promptly made to learri some way
to earn an honest living. The interest which the Common-
THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 181
wealth had in his quickly learning this \atal lesson, was peril-
ously urgent, as I shall show. Instead, then, of giving any ne-
gro over five years old a pretext of any sort for evading his
righteous and beneficent lot of manual labor, we should have
bent every energy of statesmanship and government to the task
of somehow keeping the grown negroes at their work, and mak-
ing sure that the young ones w^ere taught to work. To this end
nearly all the practical talent and energy should have been
bent. The police administration should have been so omnipo-
tent and energetic as absolutely to cut off the possibility of a
negro family's subsisting by plunder — vagrancy should have
been rendered impossible by stringent laws, apprenticing the
loafer to an industrious citizen. The tolerance of idleness in
children approaching adult age, by their parents, should have
been made a misdemeanor, justifying the intervention of the
magistrate. J^uch a system of stimuli, if made effective, must
have been harsher than domestic slavery. I reply, yes: but in
imposing it, we should be but imitating our conciuerors, who
ordained that the wise, kindly, benevolent, yet efficient system
of the South should give place to their more pretentious but
oppressive system. We are fully justified by the rights of self-
preservation, to imitate their severity. Here is a parable which
expresses accurately the folly Virginia has committed. She
saw a neighbor of her's, named, we will say. Smith, who was
very rich, and who also had a large family of healthy children.
Smith is using a part of his abundance, in sending all of his
children to school. Now Virginia is not ricli, but desperately
poor; and it will be "touch and go" if some of her children do
not actually starve before the year is out. Moreover, Virginia's
children are in so feverish, unhealthy a state, that confinement
uith books is likely to have no effect, except brain-fever. But
the old lady sees Smith"*; gang passing her door to school every
day, ^ith envious eyes. She feels that somehow "book-larnin"
is a social distinction. She hears Smith's children "chaffing"
hers about their inferiority of privilege, and she can stand it no
longer. So she completes her own bankruptcy to buy an outfit
of "store clothcis," and school-books, and sends all her children.
Luckless urchins! what they needed was wholesome food and
medicine, not books and confinement. The result of this blind
disregard of times and differences, and abilities, is, that about
182 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.
the time famine and the sheriff are both knocking at the old
lady's door, her children are sent back to her. in raging delirium
from brain fever, either helpless, or rending each other in their
plirensy.
question fairl\- in the face? It makes me shudder — ^and the
Does any one demur, that this picture is extravagant?
Then, he has not begun to see the fearful peril of our situation.
Indeed, I feel sure that bad as is the present state of Virginia
(in consequence of the abolition measure forced upon us) far
the worst is yet to come. What are we to do with this young
generati(m of negroes now growing up? Have men looked that
free school is one of the most tragical features in the coming
drama. Let these facts be considered. This coming generation
will be a numerous one. Men. like ''Civis,'' are evidently nurs-
ing the secret hope that it will not; and to my mind it is one o<'
the most painful evidences of the atrocity of the wrong per-
petrated on Mrginia by her conquerors, that good, patriotic,
philanthropic. Christian men here see the evil fruits of that
crime looming up so fearfully, as actually to find a grain of pri
vate consolation in the hopel that a race of human beings
among us are advancing to the miseries of extermination. I do
not find fault with the hape; it is natural — I shall naturally and
justifiably hope that my wilful destroyer may x>e'rish before he
murders me — I condenm the oppression which has left good and
wise men no solace except in that hope. They scan the bills of
mortality in Southern cities with a sigh of relief. Doubtless
city-life is a devouring gulf for the poor freedman, but Virginia
is a rural State; and in the country, the lazy freedman multi-
plies, unstinted by his povei'ty. The climate is genial, the win-
ter is short, the jjersimmons and blackberries span the larger
part of the year; the "'old hares" are prolific; the old freedmen,
once slaves, still do about half work, and produce some pro-
visions; and above all, the process of eating up the white peo-
ple by petty pilferings is still far from completed. So, between
these various resources, country negroes manage to sustain
these low conditions of existence, which enable so low a race
to multiply; and they multiply on, as yet, very much as in old
times. This perilous incoming generation will be a numerous
one.
The next fact is, thatMff neo;ro is n creature o^ Imbit, Those
THE NEGUO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 188
whose characters were formed in slavery still carry with them
two habits gained there; one, tliat of work (though gradually re-
laxing); the other, that of loyalty and affectionate respect for
"their white folks." The new generation cherishes neither. I
know of only one or two, of either sex, who are engaged in any
self-supporting- labor — they live on their parents, or on pilfer-
ing. Does one see any of them apprenticed to any useful trade,
or in the regular employment of any business man? I have
with me the testimony of the planters; they tell me that, in
hiring hands, they always seek middle-aged ones, who were
trained in slavery; the younger are not worth hiring, if they
ever offer. I have with me the testimony of the middle-aged
freedmen, the fathers and mothers themselves. Their complaint
is, that the "young ones have no idea of work — they do not
know what real work is — what is to become of them, the Lord
only knows." All who know the negro character are aware
also of that infirmity of purpose which, almost universally ren-
ders them inefficient parents. They are either too weak or in-
dulgent, or they are brutally and capriciously severe. Hence,
the usual law of negro families is, a low state of parental and
filial qualities, dissatisfied parents, and insubordinate children
— it was always so upon the plantations, except as the master
or overseer guided and reinforced the father's rule; it is flag-
rantly so now. The ugliest feature of this coming day is, that
the young negroes are evidently growiuj; iij3 with a restive,
surly, insolent spirit towards the whites, in place of that close
family affection, feudal loyalty, and humble pi-ide in their su-
periors, which once united masters and servants. How can it
be otherwise? The family tie is gone forever — the "carpet bag-
ger" has played his accursed game upon the negro's passions.
Suffrage and the free school awaken in the young negro foolish
and impossible aspirations, which are fated to disappointment,
and whose disappointment he will assuredly lay to the door of
his white rivals, lately his kindly protectors. One needs only
to walk by the way. to see this change of temper. The ex-
slave greets his former "white folks" with a smile of genuine
pleasure, and with all the deference of old times. But his son
and daughter pass without speech, or with a surly nod, and as-
sert their independence by shouldering white children from the
sidewalk. What, meantime, is the temper to which these white
184 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.
young people are growing up? They also are strangers to the
family feeling; they know nothing of the kindly responsibility
and patronage begotten by the former dependence of the ser-
vants; to them these insolent young blacks are simply stran-
gers and aliens, repulsive and abhorred. The sons of the he-
roes who fell at Manassas and Gettysburg are not likely to im-
bibe from widowed mothers traditions which will make them
very tolerant of "negro impudence."
The State of Xew Jersey has emancipated her slaves re-
cently enough, for men naw living to testify to the effects of the
measure. The aecount that I have uniformly heard from her
citizens is this: That the negroes reared in slavery continued
to be useful, but that when this generation had passed away,
business men ceased, as a general rule, to employ negroes in
any permanent contract of labor. They were found too fickle,
uncertain and indolent. Ask a New Jersey farmer to employ a
negro for his permanent farm help, and he would answer with
a smile at your absurdity. After a time negroes almost ceased
to be seen in rural districts; they drifted into taverns, barbers'
shops and other places where ''jobs" could be picked up. What
right have we to flatter ourselves with a different result in Vir-
ginia.
Now an industrious community can endure a certain per-
centage of idlers, but if it be increased too much, they poison
the community. The body politic is, in this, like the natural
body, a certain amount of poison in its circulation can be en-
dured, and eliminated by the emunctory organs, but if the poi-
son is in larger quantity, the man dies. When the generation
of freed-negroes, which works feebly, has passed away, can the
white people of Southside Virginia endure the pilfering of a
body of negroes more numerous than themselves, who will work
not at all? And when the white people are at last driven to
the end of all patience by intolerable annoyances, and the blacks
are determined to live and not to work, collision cannot but en-
sue. What shall we do with that generation of negroes "edu-
cated" to be above work? I see no other prospect, humanly
speaking, except the beginning of a war of races, which will
bring back the provost marshal, and the government of the
bayonet, and will, indeed, make us eager to welcome them.
But even if this danger is evaded, I object to this whole
THE NKGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 185
scheme of State education for negroes, because, if successful,
it can only result in wrono-. In every civilized country, there
must be a laboring class. The idea that this universal "educa-
tion," so-called, is to elevate that laboring class into a reading
body, and still leave them laborers, is a vain vision. The peo-
ple who are addicted to manual labor are never going to be
students, as a body. It is not so in boasted Prussia, nor in
boasting New England. Laborers, if taught the arts of letters
in their youth, disuse them in their toiling manhood. The brain
which is taxed to supply the nervous energy for a day of man-
ual labor, will have none left for literary pursuits. If our civ-
ilization is to continue, there must be, at the bottom of the so-
cial fabric, a class who must work and not read. Now, grant
that that the free school does all that its wildest boasts can
claim; that it elevates the negroes out of this grade. Then the
only result will be, that white people must descend into it, and
occupy it. Where then is the gain? I, for one, say plainly,
that I belong to the white race, and that if I must choose be-
rween the two results, my philanthropy leads me to desire the
I)roisperity of my own people, in preference to that of an alien
race. I do not see any humanity in taking the negro out of the
place for which nature has fitted him, at the cost of thrusting
my own kindred down into it. No amelioration whatever is
effected in the country taken as a wliole; but an unnatural
crime is committed to gratify a. quixotic and unthinking
v,i=0Tcliet.
Again: Let us grant that free schools effect all that is
claimed for the elevation of the negro; that he is actually fitted
for all the dignities of the commonwealth, and for social equal-
ity. Then, will he not denumd it? Of course. Here then, is
my concluding ,^/7^w/«a. If these negro schools are to fail, they
should be abolished without further waste. If they are to suc-
ceed, they only prepare the way for that abhorred fate, amal-
gamation. If the State School Board are working for any-
thing, they are working for this; here is the goal of their plans.
The most solemn and urgent duty now incumbent on the rulers
of Virginia, is to devise measures to prevent the gradual but
sure approach of this final disaster. The satanic artificers of
our subjugation well knew the work which they designed to
perpetrate: it is so to mingle that blood which flowed in the
186 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.
veins of our Washingtona, Lees, aud Jacksons, and which con-
secrated the battle iSeids ot the Confederacy, with this sordid,
alien taint, that the bastard stream shall never again throb
with independence enough to make a tyrant tremble. These
men were taught by the instincts of their envy and malignity,
but too infallibly, how the accursed work waiS to be done. They
knew that political equality would prepare they way for social
equality, and that, again for amalgamation. It is only our pride
which hides the danger from our ejes. A friend from Virginia
was conversing, in London, with an old English navy surgeon,
who was intimately acquainted with the British West-India Is-
lands. He assured the Virginian that the "reconstruction acts"
tended directly to amalgamation, and would surely result in it
if persevered in. ''Never," exclaimed my Virginia friend, ''In
our case, our people's pride of race will eft'ectually protect them
from that last infamy." "Had ever any people," replied the ex-
surgeon, ''more pride of race than the English? Yet they are
amalgamating in Jamaica. We have the teachings of forty
years' experience in this matter; when your emancipation has
become, like ours, forty years old, you will see." The Virginian
was silenced. Even now, after ten years of the misery and
shame of subjugation, one has only to open his eyes to see the
crumbling awa}^ of the social barriers between the two races.
The nearest and heaviest share of this curse of mixed blood
will, of course, fall upon the conquered States themselves; but
the revengeful mind will have the grim satisfaction of seeing
the conquering States reap their sure and fearful retribution
from the same cause. Eleven populous States, tainted with this
poison of hybrid and corrupted blood, will be enough to com-
plete the destruction of the white States to which they will be
chained. The Yankee empire will then find itself, like a strong
man with a cankerous limb, perishing by inches, in chronic and
hideous agonies. The member which spreads its poison through
the whole body can neither be healed nor amputated, all will
putrify together.
Is there any remedy? This is the question which will be
urged, and those who think with me are listened to with dis-
favor, chiefly because people do not like to be reminded of a
shameful and miserable future, which they suppose to be un-
avoidable; they prefer to shut their eyes and enjoy the rem-
THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 187
nants of pleasures which are left them, without disturbauce.
We shall be asked: Why sj)(^ak of these thiugs, unless there cau
be shown a remedy? There might be a remedy, if the peoi)le
and their leaders were single-minded and honest in their action
as citizens. The key-note of that remedy is in ^'impartial sutt"-
rage." In endeavoring to remedy the dangers of the common-
wealth, we must remember that we are a conquered people, and
have to obey our masters. Otherwise our straight road toack
to safety would be at ouce to repeal negro-suffrage. Rut our
masters will not hear of that. What is called "impartial suff-
rage" is, however, permitted by their new Coustituticm. We
should at ouce avail ourselves of that perniissioil, and without
attempting any discriminatijn on grounds of ''race, color, or
previous condition of bondage,'' establish qualifications both
of property and intelligence for the privilege of voting. This
would exclude the great multitude of negroes, and also a great
many white men. And this last would of ilself be no little gain,
for many more white men have the privilege than use it for
the good of the State. Agiiiu, the very misfortunes of the time
give us this advantage now, for drawing back from the ultra-
radicalism of our previous legislation: that the mass of white
men are now so impressed with the dishonor and mischiefs of
negro suffrage, the majority of those white voters having no
property, w-ould, even joyfully, surrender their privilege, tar-
nished and worthless as it is, if thereby the negro could be ex-
cluded. This constitutes our opportunity. To this saving ref ')rm
there is just one real obstacle, and that is, the timid self-inter-
est of the office-seeking class. I take it for granted that every
sensible man in Vii-ginia thinks in his heart that negro suft'rage
is a deplorable mistake. But many wish to be elected or ap-
pointed to office. These begin to calculate, under the prompt-
ings of timid selfishness: "While I should be very glad to see
thi;s wholesome reform, it will not be prudent for me to ad-
vocate it; because, should a movement for it, advocated by me,
perchance fail, then all the classes whom that movement pro-
posed to disfranchise of this useless and hurtful privilege, will
be offended with me. So, when self-love desires to be elected
to some place of emolument, they will remember me and vote
against me. Hence, I cannot move in that reform, however
desirable." This isthe real difficulty, and the only real difificulty,
188 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL.
in the way of this blessed step towards salvation. If all the
men who now cherish aspirations for office, could onl}- he made
to act disinterestedly — to forget self, to resolve to do the right
and wise thing for the Commonwealth, w^hether they were ever
voted for again or not, the whole thing would be easy. There are
a plenty of intelligent young men in Virginia, now without
property, who would joyfully join the freeholders in voting to
disfranchise themselves for this great end, to make a command-
ing majority. So that the question, whether the State can be
saved from this perdition, turns practically 3n this other ques-
tion (as indeed the fate of Commouwealtlis always practically
does), whether her people can for once act with a real honest
disinterestedness. If the people and their leaders are capable
of that, they can save themselves; if not capable, nothing can
save them. And perhaps the verdict of posterity will be, that
they were unworthy of being saved. It will be well for all to
look this view of the matter fully in the face. Especially is it
necessary for the farmers to see precisely where the deliverance
and the obstacle to it lie.
The other branch of our remedy should be to reform our
school system, both for blacks and whites, back towards the
system of our fathers in Virginia, just as fast as possible. I
mean the system which prevailed in Virginia up to 1860. I
know that all the self-constituted, pretended advocates of free
education disparage^ that system as miserably partial and in-
efficient. But our fathers knew what thej w^ere about, much
better than was sujiposed. "Young jieaple f/iink old folks are
fools, but old people kno7v that young ones are." Did that old
system produce perfect results? Xo. Xo system in imperfect
human hands ever produces perfect results. Did it teach every
adult in the State to read and write? No. Buf neither will
the new one. That is, the new system will no more be able to
overcome the inexorable law, that the mass of those addicted
to manual labor will not and cannot addict themselves to the
literary arts, than our fathers were. And after all the fuss and
boast, and iniquitous expense, "the upshot" will be that there
will still be just as many adults in the State, who practically
will not read, and who will forget how, as before. And there
will be far fewer to use their art of reading to any good pur-
pose. How often will men stubbornly forget that the art of
TIIK NKGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 189
reading is not education^ but only a very uncertain means of
education. With that class for which the free school especially
provides, it is usually a worthless means. The feasible and use-
ful education for that class is the development of faculties
which takes place in learning how to make an honest li\ino'.
My prediction is already verified in Massachusetts, the very
home of the State-school humbug. The annual reports of their
own school superintendents confess it. A large part of the rural
laboring population, still do nat read, have forgotten how to
read, do not care to know, and care not a stiver whether their
children know. (Here, by the way, is the cause of this new
furor for ''compulsory education"). Tried by this sober and
truthful standard, I assert that the comparative fruits of our old
system fully justified its excellence. Again I demand that the
"tree shall be known by its fruits." That was the system which
reared the Virginians of 1861: that glorious, enlightened gen-
eration of men, which comprehended so clearly the vital im-
portance of the great doctrine of State sovereignty, while the
Yankee hordes, reared up under this be-ipraised system of free
schools, iguorantly trampled on it with beastly stupidity and vio-
lence: that glorious generation whicli contended for the right so
firmh% so temperately, as to win the admiration of the world:
that generation Avhieh, when moderation availed no longer,
formed the heroic armies which followed Jackson and Lee to
the last. Yes, it was the old Virginia system that reared the
yeomanry which filled those immortal ranks with such a body
of privates — so virtuous, so enduring, so brave, so intelligent,
as no other generals ever commanded. Yes, "let the tree be
known 'by its fruits." The tree that bore "the rank and file" of
the Stonewall brigade was good enough for me. It may be
pruned, it may be watered and tilled, and thus it may be im-
proved. Our true wisdom will be to plant it again.
This old system evinced its wisdom by avoiding the pagan.
Spartan theory, which makes the State the parent. It left the
parent supreme in his God-given sphere, as the responsible
party for providing and directing the education of his own ofl-
spring. This old plan, instead of usurping, encouraged and as-
sisted, where assistance was needed. It was wise again, in that
it avoided creating salaried offices to eat up the people's money,
and yet do no actual teaching. It was supremely wise, in that
190 THE! I^EGRO AND TJtfE COMMON SCPtOOL.
if cut the Grordian knot. "Eeliginn in the State school," which
now 'baffles British and Yanlcee wit. It set that insuperable
difficulty clear on one side, by leaving the school as the creature
of the parents, and not of the State. It was wise in its exceed-
ing ecenomy, a trait so essential to the State now.
I would have our rulers, then, avail themselves of another
circumstance growing out of our calamities, to disarm the over-
weening zeal of the State school men. We can truthfully say
to them: "Your system, whether best or not, is simply imprac-
ticable for Virginia. You see that she has stretched taxation to
the verge of confiscation; and yet her debt cannot be paid and
that costly system carried on." Let two separate ''Literary
funds," then, be created, one for whites and one for blacks, each
separate, and each replenished from the taxation of its own
class. Let "each tub stand upon its own bottom." Instead of
the State undertaking to be a universal creator and sustainer of
schools, let it invite jiarents to create, sustain, and govern their
own .schools under the assistance and guidance of an inexpen-
sive and (mainly) unsalaried Board, and then render such help
to those parents who are unable to help themselves, as the very
limited school tax will permit. And let the existence of .some
aspiration in parents or children be the uniform condition of the
aid; for without this condition it is infallibly thrown away.
"One man may take a horse to w'ater, but a hundred can't make
liim drink." R. L. DABNEY.
Union Theological Seminary, Va., Feb. 21, 1876.
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM IMPOSED
UPON VIRGINIA BY THE UNDERWOOD
CONSTITUTION.
DR. DABNEY,
He Has A Few Words to Say in Replv to Dr. Rnffner,
Repelling tlie Charge of luconsisteucv — An Advocate of Uni-
versal Education, Provided it is True Education — Tlie Old
Virginia Plan — School Houses and Jails — Educated Crim-
inals— A Few Comparative Figures — Drenching and Drink-
ing— Home Education.
I.
Hampden Sidney, Ya., April 18, 1870.
To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools:
Dear Sir: — You have undesignedly dane the cause of truth a
service by so assailing the Virginia doctrines as advanced by
nie in the Southern Planter as to awaken the public curiosity
to their defence. That defence I propose to continue in a brief
reply to 3^ou by facts and arguments alone. I do not propose
to follow you into any personalities. I am perfectly aware that
my person is, to the people of Virginia, too unimportant for
them to feel interested in a squabble over its consistency or
credit. I jDresume tliat their feeling for your private person al-
so is not very different. For an important principle they may
care. While my humble sphere as a minister and teacher may
render the great })ublic indifferent to me personally, my em-
ployers and neighbors, who know me, need no defence of my
personal credit from any disparagement from what quarter so-
ever. They know tliat my position is thoroughh' consistent
and independent; that in mA^ own education I never received
from Church or State one dollar of eleemosynary aid; and that
I have neither neglected nor abused any official trust comniil-
ted to me.
191
192 THE STATE FREE SCnoOL SYSTEM.
You think ir iiicoii:<isrent in nie to disapprove any free
school because, you say. I am a professor in a "free school'' — a
theological seminary. This seminary is indeed truly ''a free
school." "I thank the Jew for that word." Founded and sus-
tained by the spontaneous, unforced gifts of good men, it gives
free tuition in divinity to joung men of all denominations —
even the most opposed to the donors — seeking the ministry. It
is honestly and really a ''free school" — supported by free gifts,
attended by free, voluntary pupils. Xo penny of the salary of
its teachers is exacted by the tax-gatherer from unwilling hands
to pay far a project or an inculcation which they disapprove.
Your "free schools," like not a few of the other pretensions of
Radicalism, are in fact exactly opposite to the name falsely as-
sumed. The great bulk of those who pay the money for them
da it, not "freely," but In- compulsion. They are virtually
thrust down our throats by the bayonet. And the exemplars
you most boast and imitate not only make the payment compul-
sory, but tlie attendance also, as your consistency will doubtless
cause you to da in Virginia also in a few years. The only free-
dom of 3'our system is your freedom to CDinpel other people's
money.
Your attacks on me breathe a great glorying in tlie
strength of your party. Their tone seems to cr^-: "Oh. vain
man; seest thou not that thou resistest the inevitable'? ^Yith
us are all Kaisers, and all demagogues, and all their minions,
and all tax-gatherers, and all tax-consumers. Who art thou
against so manj'?" Well, perhaps, nobody. But it is precise-
ly in this that every prudent, reflecting Virginian sees the con-
clusive argument against your plan. Our true statesmen al-
ways taught us that government should not be allowed to go
into any project aside from its direct, legitimate ends, especially
if that project would subsidize many persons and create for
them a motive of personal advantage to uphold it. Because
whenever that project might be wrested to mischief, these in-
terested motives might prevent a wholesome and necessary
repeal. Such is precisely the case with your project. It has be-
come mischievous and tyrannical, in that it forces on us the use-
less, impracticable, and dishonest attempt to teach literary arts
to all negroe;?;, when the State is unaible to pay its debts and
provide for its welfare, and has just been despoiled of its pos-
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 19;4
sessions by violence. And just so soon as a feeble voice is
raised against this wrong, you flaunt before us this fact, that
the vicious system has corrupted and subsidized so many
minds that the friends of right are powerless! Why, this is the
very demonstration that I am right. This is the crowning con-
demnation of your system.
You seem also to think I wrote with great severity. I did
write with great severity in one sense. How came you to over-
look the fact, which every dispassionate reader saw, that my
severity was all aimed, not at Virginia, but at her conquerors
and oppressors? Was it because you found yourself in fuller
sympathy with those conquerors than with your oppressed fel-
low-citizens? Take heed, lest some, less your friends than I,
should conclude so.
Xotwithstading Aour glorying, then, I mean once more to
assert the unfashionable truth. Truth is never out of date. It
has sometimes happened that a tentative experience has thrown
so much light upon a bad system as to re-open the discussion
with better guidance than the previous. If the American peo-
ple, after enjoying thisliepraised system, are so deficient in can-
dor and intelligence that they cannot review and amend wrong
action, this is suflSciently convictive of the worthlessness of the
plan.
Let me also, at the outset, arrest all invidious outcry by say-
ing that I am an advocate of the most universal education possi-
ble, provided it be true education. I heartily recognize all the
teachings of the golden rule, of philanthrophy, and of equality
(so far as equality is righteous), which prompt us to desire for
all our fellow-creatures, so far as possible, all the advantages of
culture we value for ourselves — and that without distinguish-
ing against classes. Let me say, once for all, / am an advocate
for the State's providing, if necessary, all the aid for poor chil-
dren's schooling which is realty desirable and will be really util-
ized by them— that is, T'POX THE OLD VIRGINIA PLAN. 1
wish to satisfy the rao.st overweening by the express admission
that universal education would ibe a good thing, were it practica-
ble. The argument is that under that proAidential order which
God has imposed upon society, the effectual literary education
of all is impossible, and therefore the promise of it is delusive
and mischevious, and that when the State is an American demo-
194 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
cracy, especially, it is no safe or suitable agent for doing the
work.
We begin by reasserting the familiar objection, so often
contemptuously dismissed, that the principle upon which the
State intrudes into the parental obligation and function of edu-
cating all children, is dangerous and agrarian. It is the teach-
ing of the Bible and of sound political ethics that the education
of children belongs to the sphere of the family and is the duty of
the parents. The theory that the children of the Common-
wealth are the charge of the Coinmonwealth is a pagan one,
derived from heathen Sparta and Plata's heathen republic, and
connected by regular, logical sequence with legalized i»rostitu-
tion and the dissolution of the conjugal tie. The dispensation
of Divine Providence determines the social grade and the cul-
ture of children on their reaching adult age by the diligence and
faithfulness of their parents, just as the pecuniary condition of
children at that epoch is determined. The desire of procuring
for their children a desirable condition in all these respects is
the grand stimulus which Providence has provided for the ef-
forts of parents. It is His ordination that youth shall inherit
the status provided for them by their parents, and improved it by
their own exertions as aided by the Christian philanthropy of
their fellow-men. Now, by what apology does the State (not an
evangelical, nor an eleemosynary institute by its nature) justify
itself in stepping in to revolutionize that order? By the plea
that it (the State) is so vitally interested in the iutelligent-e of
Ihe citizens that this entitles her to take etfectual means for pre-
venting their ignorance. See, now, whither this assumption
leads. The morality of the citizens is far more essential to the
welfare of the State; and the only etfectual basis for morals is
the Christian religion. Therefore the State would ibe yet more
bound to take order that all youth be taught Christianity. And
this is just the argument by which Dr. Chalmers and Mr. Glad-
stone (before his political somersaults began) strenuously de-
fended church establishments. Again, physical destitution of
the citizens is as dangerous to the State as ignorance; therefore
the St:ate would be entitled to interfere for her own protection
and repair that calamitous condition of destitution which their
own and their jwrents' vices and laziness have entailed on a
part of the people, by confiscating, for their relief, the honestly-
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 195
eariR'il in-opin-ry of the vii-ruons and llii-ifiy aud iIhmi- childi-eii.
Tile last two infei-ciices are precisely as fair as tlie first. Prin-
ciples always bear their fruits; aud the friends of this principle
will in due time become consistent, and claim at least the last
inference, along- with the first. They are not liktdy to adopt
the second, because the culture and ethics of the ''common
scho'ol"' will leave them, after a time, too corrupt and atheistic
to recog-nize the value of morality or its source — the Christian
religion.
We often hear this apology for the i^tate's wholesale intrus-
ion into education advanced with the exactness of a conmier-
cial transaction. They say: "It costs less money to build
school-houses than jails." But what if it turns out that the
State's exipenditure in school-house is one of the things which
necessitates the expenditure in jails? The fruits of the system
show that such is the result, and hence the plea for the State's
intrusion is utterly delusive. The regular result of the kind of
education which alone it can give is to propagate crime. Alli-
son's History of Europe states that forty years ago two-thirds
of the inhabitants of France could neither read nor write. In
Prussia, at the same time, the government had made secular ed-
ucation almost universal, by compelling parents to send their
children to school from seven to fourteen years of age. Statis-
tics of the two countries show that serious crime was at tliat
time fourteen times as prevalent in intelligent I'russia as in ig-
noi-ant France — volume V., page 15. Again it has been found
from the official j-ecords of the S6 departments of France
that the amount of crime has, without a single exception, been
in proportion to the amount of scholastic instruction given in
each. Again, we are told that much the largest number of the
lewd women of Paris come from those departments where there
is most instruction. In Scotland the educated criminals are to
the uneducated as four and a half to one. M. De To(iU(Mille i-e-
marked of the United States that crime increased most rajddly
where there was most instruction. The ancients testify that the
moral condition of the ''Barbarians" was comparatively ])ure
'beside that of the Greeks and Romans, and that the most refined
cities were the most corrupt. But let us bring the comparison
nearer home. The Northern States of the Union had previous-
ly to the war all adopted the system of universal State schools,
196 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
and the Southern States had not. In 1850 the former had tliir
teen and a half millions of people, and twentj-three thousand
six hundred and sixtj-four criminal CDnvictions. The South
(without State schools) had nine and a half millions, and two
thousand nine hundred and twentv-one criminal convictions —
that is to say, after allowing for the difference of pDpulation,
the "educated" masses were something more than six times as
criminal as the "uneducated." The same year the Xorth was
supporting 114,700 paupers, and the South 20,500. The "unin-
telligent"' South was something more than four times as well
qualified to prDvide for its own subsistence as the "intelligent"
Xorth: But Massachusetts is the native home of the public
school in America. In Boston and its adjacent county the per-
sons in jails, houses of correction or refuge, and in alms-houses
bore among the whites the ratio of one to every thirty-four.
(Among the wretched, free blacks it was one to every sixteen.)
In Eichmond, the capital of "benighted" Virginia, the same un-
happy classes bore the ratio of one to every one hundred and
twelve. Such are the lessons of fact. Indeed, it requires only
the simpliest ocular inspection to convince any observer that
the economical plea for State schools is illusory. In the South
State school-houses were unknown, and consequently jails and
penitentiaries were on the most confined and humble scale. The
North is studded over with grand and costly public school-hous-
es, and her jails are even more "palatial" in extent and more
numerous than they.
All such promiscuous efforts to educate the whole masses
by any secular authority must disappoint our hopes, and result
in mischief, for a second reason. It finds its illustration in the
homely proverb, that "while one man may lead a horse to water
a hundred cannot make him drink." True education, taken in
any extent of its meaning, broad or narrow, is so greatly a moral
process that a certain amount of aspiration and desire in its sub-
ject is an absolute prerequisite. The horse may be drenched,
but that is not drinking; and the drench is not nourishment to
be assimilated, but medicine. So, a knowledge of letters may be
"exhibited" (as the medical men phrase it) to the resisting or
apathetic mind; but there is no assimilation. of the mental pabu-
lum and no recruitment of spiritual strength. Something else
must be first done, then, besides building and equipping a school
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 197
for souls which are in this State; and that is something which
the State can never do— at least not by its schools. The moral
aspiration and virtuous aims must be present, which alone will
utilize a knowledge of letters. This is very plain. Now, it will
be found generally true that in this country it is precisely the
cliildren of those who are presumed to need State education, and
for whom the provision is chiefly designed, who are in this un-
prepared condition. If the State contained no children save
those of parents who had the intelligence, the virtue, the aspir-
ation, and also the property, or else the industry, which would
make them resolved and a/ble to educate their own, then, of
course, it would be wholh' superfluous for the Government to in-
terfere. But these are the only children to whom letters are, in
the general a real means of culture or elevation. Separate those
wdio, in our fruitful laud have neither aspiration, nor industry,
nor property enough to insure that they will educate their own
children, and in those children we usually find preciselj^ that
apathetic and hopeless condition, which renders this means nu-
gatory, or worse. The parents are the real architects of their
children's destiny, and the State cannot help it. There are, of
course, exceptions. There are meritorious parents reduced by
exceptional calamities to destitution, and there are a few
"rough diamonds" unearthed in the unlikely mines of grovelling
families. Such exceptions should be provided for; but wise
legislators do not make universal systems to reach exceptional
cases.
The law which we assert is accounted for by several jiracti-
cal causes. Parents who remain too poor and callous to educate
their own children are so because they are ignorant, indolent,
unaspiring, and vicious. The children's characters are usually
as much the progeny of the parents as their bodies. Again:
The aspiration, \irtuous desire, and energy of the parents are ab-
solutely essential to supply that impulse, w^hich the child's mind
requires to overrule its youthful heedlessness, and to impel it to
employ and assimilate its otherwise usele.ss acquisitions. And
once more: The home education is so much more potential than
that of the school, that the little modicum of training which a
"common-school" system can give to the average masses is ut-
terly trivial and impotent as a means of reversing the child's ten-
dency. That which costs nothing is never valued. Old kludge
198 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
Bnell, of Albany, placed a sack of a new variety of beautiful
wheat upon the counter of the pa^ilion at a gre^it agricultural
fair, with a label inviting every farmer to take one quart as a
gratuity, for seed. At night the sack was almost untouched.
The old gentleman fretted at this result, took it the second day
to the booth of a seeds man, and directed Mm to sell it at two
dollars per quart. It was at once bought up greedily. One of
the best teachers we ever knew determined to devote his latter
years to the pliilanthropic work of teaching a gratuitous school
for his neighbors. In a few mjuths it had dwindled to five pu-
pils, and died a natural death ^^^thin a year. There is a natural
liumiliation also in being c-ompelled to accept the provision of
ehai-ity, or of the KState. for that which conscience tells parents
Is obligatory on them. These reasons accjunt for the fact,
which the advocates of public schools so desire to hide, that thu
children do not attend, and the parents do not care to make them
attend. He who goes ''behind the scenes" in the Northern
States knows how extensiveh' this is true. The rising move-
nun t for a '"compnlsory education''' is a confession of this fact.
The unwilling disclosure of the failure of the system is the only
thing this new movement will effect; for its folly is clear from
this simple thought, that it contravenes, worse than all. the ax-
iom: ''One man can lead the horse to water," etc. Hence it re-
sults, that the class which is low enough to need this State aid,
is one whicli usually cannot be elevated by it. But the abor-
tive effort will awaken other intiuences. as we shall .see. which
are likely to make the children more miserable and less innocent
than their ignorant parents.
Must the philanthropist, then, submit to the conclusion
that ignorance and its consequences must needs be hereditary,
and that knowledge, culture, and virtue are not to be extended
beyond the fortunate youth for whom their parents secure them?
We reply: this sad law does hold, and must hold to a far wider
extent than our over-weening zeal is willing to acknowledge.
Yet its rigor may be relaxed but not by the meddling of the civil
magistrate or the arm of legislation. The agency must be so-
cial and Christian. The work must be done by laying hold of
the sentiments, hearts, and consciences of i>arents and children
together — not through their grammatical and arithmerical fac-
ulties. The agents for this blessed work are ihe neighbor and
THE STATE FKEE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 199
the church. Oliristian charity and zeal, with the potent social
influences descending' from superioi'is to inferiors, in a society
which is practically a kindly and liberal aristocracy; these may
break the reign 'of ignorance and unaspiring apathy. The State
cannot; the work is above its sphere.
Very i-espectf ully, your obedient servant,
R. L. DABNEY.
DR. DABXEY AGAIX.
Universal Education as Involving the Idea of the Leveller — All
cannot Aspire to the Highest Stations — Manual Labor or
Savagery the Destiny of the Major Part — Fancy Philan-
thropists— The Common School Alumni — Theological
Quacks — A Little Learning a Dangerous Thing.
II.
Hampden Sidney, Va.. Apiil 22. 1876.
To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools:
Dear Sir. — In the third place this theory of universal edu-
cation in letters by the State involves the absurd and impossi-
ble idea of the Leveller, as thjugh it were possible for all men
to have equal destini€« in human society. It is a favorite pro-
position with the asserters of these so-called American ideas,
that "every American boy should improve himself as though he
might some day be President of the United States."' That is to
say, the system supposes and fosters a universal discontent with
the allotments of Providence, and the inevitable graduations of
rank, possessions and privilege. It is too obvious to need many
words, that this temper is anti-Christian; the Bible, in its whole
tone, inculcates the opposite spirit of modest contentment with
our sphere, and directs the honorable aspiration of the good
man to the faithful performance of its duties, rather than to the
amibitious purpose to get out of it and above it. It may be ask-
ed, does not the Bible recognize that fact, so pleasing to every
generous mind, that the lower ranks now and then produce a
youth worthy of the highest? Yes, David was taken from the
sheep-folds to be Israel's most glorious king. But the Bible-
idea is (and David's was a case precisely in point) that the hum-
ble boy is to exhibit this fitness for a nobler destiny, not by dis-
content and greedy cravings, but by his exemplary performances
in his lower lot; and that Providence and his fellow-citizens are
1 Appeared in Riclvn'^nd Enquirer -00
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 201
to call him to "come up higher." For these instances of native
merit, which are usually few, the State has no need to legislate.
They will rise of themselves. The}' cannot ibe kept down, pro-
vided only we do not legislate against them, but leave them the
carriere euverte aux talents; or, if they will be the 'better for any
provision, it should be exceptional, as they are exceptional cases.
With this exception, it is utterly false that every American
boy maj' aspire to the higher stations of life. In the lottery of
life these prizes must be relatively few — only a few can reach
them. Xor is it right or practicable to give to all boys an ''even
start" in the race for them. The State, of cour.se, should not leg-
islate to the disadvantage of an}- in this race; but we mean that
Providence, social laws, and parental virtues and efforts, do in-
evitably legislate in favor of some classes of boys in their start
in that race, and if the State undertakes to countervail that leg-
islation of nature by levelling action, the attempt is wicked, mis-
chievous, and futile. The larger part of everj- civilized people
is, and ever will be, addicted to i-egular, manual labor. The idea
that the diffusion of intelligence and improvement of the arts
are so to lighten the doom of labor, that two or three hours'
work daily will provide for the wants of all, and leave the low-
est laborer the larger part of his day for intellectual pursuits, is
a preposterous dream. Let experience decide. Does the pro-
gress of modern civilization tend to exact "shorter hours'" of its
laborers than the barbarous state? Human desires always out-
run human means. If this Utopian era is ever to come, when
two or three hours of the artisan's time will be worth a day's
work, the artificial wants of him and his family will have outrun
him, in demanding the expenditure of five or six days' wages in
one. The laborer will still find a motive for working all day as
now — unless he turn loafer! And the last words remind us,
that theinexoraible law of nature we have just pointed out is, on
the whole, a -beneficent one; for it is necessary to prevent man-
kind from abusing their leisure. The leisure conferred by
wealth is now often abused. So would that secured for the
poor, by this fancied wealth of intelligence, be yet more abused;
and the six or eight hours redeemed from manual toil Avould
be devoted, not to intellectual pursuits, but to wasteful and de-
grading vices. And these vices would .soon rivet again the yoke
of constant labor upon their necks, or the fetters of the jail or
202 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
house of correctioii. We repeat: The destiny of
the major part of the human family is the alternative of manual
labor or savagery.
Now, no people will ever connect a real pursuit of mental
culture with the lot of constant manual labor. The two are in-
compatible. Neither time, nor taste, n3r strength, nor energy of
brain will be found for both. Have not all manual-labor
schools been failures? The man that works all day (usually)
does not study. Tlie nerve-force has been expended (in the mus-
cles, aud none is left for mental effort. Hence, we care not how
universally the State may force the arts of penmanship and
reading on the children of laborers, when these become laboring
men they will cease to read and write; they will practically dis-
use the arts as cumbersome and superfluous. This is a fact at
which your enthusiast for common schools is very loath to look;
but it is a stubborn one. The laboring classes in States which
profess to give a universal education do not make any more
beneficial use of letters, than those elsewhere. Prussia has for
more than a generation com,pelled all her peasantry to go to
school; but she is full of middle-aged peasants who have forgot-
ten how to read, and who, in fact, never read. In boasted Mas
sachusetts herself tin- very supenntt^ndents of the free schools
lament that the State has more thau ever of labaring poor, espe-
cially among the agi-icultural laborers, wlio neither know nor
care anything concei-ning letters, for tliemselves or their chil-
dren. The denyers of these stubborn facts are only the flatter-
ers, not the friends, of the laborers.
Again our fancy-philanthropist will raise his out-cry, that if
these riews are admitted they condemn more than half of our
fellow-creatures to a Boeotian stupidity and mental darkness.
We might answer, first, that his expedients are futile to reverse
that doom. The only difference ^between him and us is, that
he is to3 quixotic, or uncandid, or interested, to admit the fact,
(rod has made a social sub-soil to the top-soil, a s^ocial founda-
tion in the dust, for the superstructure — the Utopian cannot un-
make it, least of all by his patchwork. But tliere is a
second answer; he fargets that the use of letters is not educa-
tion, but only oue means of education, and not the only means.
The laboring classes find their appropriate mental and moral
cultivation in their tasks themselves, aud in the example aud in-
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 208
fliieuce of the superiors for whom they hib^r. The plough-mau
or artisan cultivates his mental faculties most appropriately in
acquiring' skill and resource for his work. He trains the moral
virtues 'by the fidelity and endurance with which he ]jerformvS
that work. He ennobles his taste and sentiments by hiokiug up
t J the superior who employs him. If to these influences you add
the awakening, elevating, expanding force (>f (Miristian princi-
ples, you have given rliar laborer a true education — a hundred
fold more true, m )re suitable, more useful, than the communica-
tiion of certain literary arts, which he will almost necessarily
disuse. Let the i-eader recall that brilliant passage of Macaulav,
as just as brilliant, in which he shows, against Dr. Johnson, that
the Athenian populace, without books, was a highly-cultivated
people. Let him remember how entirely the greatnesis of the
feudal barons in the middle ages, was dissociated from all
"clerkly arts;" yet they were warrioi-s. statesnu^n. poets, and
gentlemen. So, our awn country presents an liumbler instance
in the moi'e respectable of the African fieeilmen. Tens of
thousands of these, ignorant of letters, but trained to i)ractical
skill, thought, and resource, by intelligent masters, and imitat-
ing" their superior breeding and sentiments, present, in every
aspect, a far "higher style of man" than yonr Yankee laborer
frr>m his common school, with his shallow smattering and pur-
blind conceit, and his wretched news})aper stutfed with moral
garbage from the police-courts, and with false and ])oisi)nous
heresies in politics and religion. Put such a man in the same
arena with the Southern slave frcnn a respectable i)lantation.
and in one week's time the ascendancy of the Xegr). in self-res-
pect, courage, breeding, prowess and ]>ractical intelligtmce, will
assert itself paljjably to the Yankee and to all spectators. The
slave was. in fact, the educated man.
Let it be granted, as we have just implied, that there is a
certain use which this alumnus of the common school may con-
tinue to make of his kn jv.ledge of letters. This g-ives us our
strongest argument. Then the common schools will have cre-
ated a numerous "public" of readers one-<iuarter or one-tenth
cultivated; and the sure result will be the i)roduction for their
use :)f a false, shallow, sciolist literature, science, and rlieojogy,
infinitely worse than blank ignorance. "^Vheresoever the car-
cass is, thither will the eagles be gathered together." This will
204 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
be the sure result of the law of supply and demand inspired bv
a mercenary spirit. Formerly literature was for the educated ;
it was their occupation, and they formed the constituency for
whom the producers lof literature labored; consequently the lit-
erature of the civilized nations was characterized by all that
was most decent in manner, elevated in sentiment, and thor-
ough and just in argument, of which their society could boast.
The uneducated or quarter-educated formed no direct constitu-
ency for authors and publishers; they did not ibid for them, or
cater ito them. These unlettered classes received their ideas of
literary, political, philosophical, and theological subjects (the
most ignorant virtually have their politics, philosophy, and the-
ology), from their social superiors, through social channels. And
this was a source much safer than the present "literature for
the millions,'' because much higher, purer, and more disinterest-
ed. The consequence was, that the unlettered classes reflected
the opinions, sentiments, and elevated tone of the uppermost
stratum; now it is those of a class lower and mjore sordid than
themselves. Thus the Southern overseer, who read little but
his Bible, had a judgment infinitely better trained, a moral tone
far higher, and a social, political, and religious creed far sounder
than the modern alumnus of your ^'common school," with his
Leveller's arrogance and envy, and his armful of cheap news-
papers. The overseer had the lauded gentry who employed
him as his instructors and models, and through them drew his
.speculative opinions from the noblest minds of the South; the
Crawfords, Cheves, Madisons, Barbours, Randolphs, Calhouns.
The common-school alumnus has the wretched sciolists and
theological quacks, who drive their sordid trade in cheap peri-
odical literature. The advocates of the Yan'kee system (boast in
it, and revile the old one in that the latter made letters the pre-
rogative of the few; theirs of the many. But letters of what
sort? Here we have ''given them a Roland for their Oliver."
We appeal to facts. Has not the creation of tliis large
reading (but not truly educated) public occasioned a flood of
mischievous, heretical, sciolistic, corrupting literature? The
result is that the book and newspaper-making tradi^ has, for
sordid purposes, brought down to the lower classes a multitude
of speculations on the most dangerous subjects, with which no
mind is prepared to deal for itself and independently, until it is
THE STATte t^REE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 205
\'eiy tliarougiilj trained aud informed. Tliat tliorough menial
discipline and full learning- the common schools can never give
to these masses. They may as well j^roniise that every agrarian
among them shall be an Astor or a Kothschild in wealth. The
state of European and Yankee society under this new impulse
illustrates the facts we assert. The smattering which State
education has given the masses has but been to them the open-
ing of Pandora's box. It has only launched them in an ocean
whicii they are Incompetent to navigate. (Every manufactory
i.-! converted into a debating chib, where the operatives intoxi-
cate their minds with the most licentious vagaries of opinions
upon every fundamental subject of politics and religion; and
they have only knowledge enough to run into danger, without
having a tenth part of the knowledge necessary to teach them
their danger and incompetenc3^ It was this system
which prepared the way for the "International So-
ciety," and the horrors 'of the Paris Co??itnune. So far are these
nations from being healthily illuminated, they are an easy prey
to the most destructive heresies, social and religious; and their
condition is far more unwholesome and volcanic, with a more
terrifying prospect of social dissolution, anarchy, and blood-
shed, than was ever presented by the ignorance of the "middle
ages." So obvious was this tendency to thoughtful minds thir-
ty-five years ago that the great historian Heerea, with his inti-
mate acquaintance with all the defects of mediaeval society, an-
nounced the deliberate opinion that the art of printing was des-
tined to be more a curse than a blessing to Europe. It is not
necessary for us to espouse that opinion; here is, at least, a fair
instance for the application of the maxim of Pope, now so uni-
versally aud disdainfully ignored:
"A little learniug is a dangerous thing,
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;
For shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
But drinking deeply sobers us again."
Th*- amount of this grave objection is that when the State
interferes in the work of common school education, it inevitably
does not enough, or too much. To give tlial large learning and
thorough discipline necessary for setliug tlic uiiud to deal inde-
"206 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
pendetrly with the corrupt labyrinth of modern current opinion
is bey;)nd the State's power. What she does give usually pre-
pares the victims for the literary seducers.
It is one of the most important and best established maxims
of social science that influence descends Hence, if you would
■I>ermeate the whole ix)pular mass with any wholesale iuiluence,
the wisest plan is tD place the element of good at the top, that
it may percKilate downwards. The engineer, when he wishes to
supply the humblest, lowliest lane or alley of a city with pure
water, establishes his reservoir upon the topmost hill; and
thence it descends, without any other force than its own gravit^ .
to every door and ever}- lip. So the most etfectual, the most
truly philanthroipic mode for elevating the lower classes of so-
ciety is to provide for the rise of the superior class. This is na-
ture's process; she elevates the \thole mass (by lifting it from
above so that all the parts rise together, preserAing that relation
of places on whose preservation the whole organism depends.
The fashionable planis to place the leverunder the bottom stones
and prize them to the level of the cap-stones of which the result
is that the whole structure tumbles into rubbish. The establish-
ment of the University of Virginia for giving the most thorough
training to advanced scholars has been the most truly liberal
measure for the cultivation of the masses ever adopted in the
State. It teaches only a few hundred of young men, and those
only in the highest studies? True, but in giving them a higher
standard of acquirement it has elevated as well as multiplied all
the teachers of everj- grade; making the instruction better, down
to the primary schools where the children of the poor learn the
rudiments of reading. And what is better still, it has made
thorough culture resfjectaible, and diffused- honest aspirations
to the lowest ranks. Your very obedient servant,
R. 'L. DABXEY.
ANOTHER DABNEY BOLT FOR DR. RUFFNER'vS BENE-
FIT.
Overweening Philanthropists — Decent and Vile Children — 'The
Danger of Disease — \Yhat Dr. Dahnej Thinks of Southern
NegTOes as Compared with Northern l*oor Wliites — Dema-
gogues and roliticians and Their Relation to the Free
School System — Tlie Testimony of Webster, Not the Dic-
tionarj- Man — An Alternative Horrible to Contemplate.
III.
Hampden Sidney, Va., A])ril 1*5, 1S7G.
To W. H.Ruffner Esq., Superintendent of Sta/e Schools:
Dear Sir. — In the objections thus far set forth there are
premises which, however true and impregnalble, are now so un-
fashionable that with many they will meet no response but an
angry outcry. The application of them would denwlish so
man^- vain idols, udw much cherrslied, that the writer cannot
hope for a hearing even, from many minds. Time must be the
only teacher for these overweening philanthropists. When they
are taught by liini that ithis system of State education has utter-
ly failed to produce the benetits they designed, and has fixed on
us the mischiefs above described, tliey will learn that these are
the words of truth and soberness. But we puiii),)se to pi-esent
three other points of objection not involving the principles ex-
pounded in the previous part of this discussion, more practical
and indisputable; and either one of these is sufficient f:)r the ut-
ter condemnation of the system.
The first is, that if a system of universal common schools is
to ibe carried out in good faith, there must be a mixture of the
children of the decent and the children of the \\\q in the same
society during the most plastic age. The boast is: that the ed-
1 Appeared in iJjcATCO?Jd /"r/jnVfr. '^-^'>
208 THE StATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
ucation is to be for all, and most prominently for the lowest and
most i^orant, because they need it most. Then, if this boast
is to be faithfully realized, all the moral lepers among the chil-
dren of a given district must be thrust into the society of our
children at school. In order to receive the shallow modicum of
letters there dispensed, they must be daily brought into personal
CDntact with the cutaneous and other diseases, the vermin —
(Yes, dear reader, it is disgusting! We would spare you if faith-
fulness permitted; but tlie foulness belongs to the plan, not to
us) — the obscenity, the profanity, the groveling sentiments, the
violence of the gamins, with which our boated maternal civili-
zation teems in its more popubiis places. ' This must be done,
too, at the tender and imitative age of childhood. Tlie high,
sacred prerogative of the virtuous parent to choose the moral
influences for his own beloved offspring must be sacrificed to
this ruthless, levelling idol. Every experienced teacher knows
that pupils educate each other more than he educates them. The
thousand nameless influences — literary, social, moral— not only
of the play-ground but of the school-room, the whispered conver-
sation, the clandestine note, the sly grimace, the sly pinch, the
good or bad recitation, mould the plastic character of children
far more than the most faithful teacher's hand.
Now, there are some quarters of our towns and ciiies. and
.S'ome rural neighborhoods, where this difficulty is little felt;
either because the limited population is nearly homogeneous, or
because the poor are decent and virtuous. Especially has the
latter case been realized in many country communities of the
&outh, where such was the cleanliness, propriety, good breed-
ing, and moral elevation of the poorer families, imbibed from
their kindly dependence on cultivated superiors, that a neigh-
borhood school could be made to include all the white children,
without serious injury to the morals of any. But the levelling
policy, of which State common schools are a constituent mem-
ber, now claims to make the blacks equal, socially and political-
ly, to the most reputable whites. Against the .collection of
white children into the same public schools with Xegroes, the
very principle which we are illustrating, has made a protest so
indignant and determined that, although the protest of the con-
quered, it has been heard in all the Southern States, except
Louisiana. The refusal to hear it there resulted in the absolute
tHe statk free school system. 209
hanishmcnl: iif the children of the white citizens from the schools
supported by their money. And this pratest has not been, as
the enemy and conqueror deems it, the mere expre.sislon of caste-
pi*ejudice, but the conscientious demand of the natural rij>ht to
our children from moral contaminarion. Here, then, we have a
broad, a recognized application of this potent objection to the
State system. The whole Southern jieople make the objection;
nearly all the friends of State education admit its force in this
case. But on this conceded case there are two remarks to be
made. First, the concession is inconsistent with the whole the-
ory of State schoiols and of the levelling syvstem to which they
belong. This is so clearly felt, that even now the determined ad-
vocates of State education are candid enough to fDreshadow the
withdrawal of the concession, speaking of it as an arrangement
"necessary for the time -being." Is it your opinion that this con-
cession should be yielded ta us temporarily or permanently? Do
you think that it should be withdrawn after a little, when all the
staunch old Confederates like me have died out; or that the Ne-
groes should never be admitted to the same schools as the
whites? Yankeedom and Xegrodom are listening for your con-
sistent answer. Second. The Sourheni Negroes are a less de-
graded and vicious race than many large elements of the white
poor, who, in parts of the North, have free entrance into the
common schools there. Indeed, the force of the social objection
is felt and acted on by numbers of the Northern peOiple. Many
are the blatant advocates of the system among the people of
Ijroperty, who yet dream not of sending their own children to
the common schools. They consult their popularity by pretend-
ing to advocate the system; and yet, for their own olTspring,
rhey will not so much as touch it with a tip of their fingers. And
many are the Phariasaic negrophobists who bereate and revile
the Southern people^for resisting this abhorrent amalgamation
of their children with blacks; who would Hout with f;:»ul scorn
the proposal to send their own pampered brats to the common
school near them along with the children of their po:)r white
neighbors.
Sometimes it is asked, "How are the degraded classes to be
elevated if they are thus to be denied all association with those
better than themselves?" We reply that while we fully recog-
nize the Christian duty of seeking the degraded and of drawing
210 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
them up to purer associations, we beg leave to demur against
employing our innocent and inexperienced children as the mis-
sionaries. The braving of this moral contagion is the proper
work of mature men and women of virtue; and these are to ele-
vate their beneficiaries by holding to them the relation of bene-
volent superiors, not of comrades and equals in school-room
and play-ground. It is claimed that it is the teacher's part to
prevent those "evil communications which corrupt good man-
ners." We reply that it is impossible; he would need more than
the hundred hands of Briareus and the hundred eyes of Argus,
with more moral fidelity than falls to the share of any save
apostles and martyrs. Is the pittance paid to a common-school
teacher likely to purchase all these splendid endowments? It is
said that if a fastidious parent does not like the social atmos-
phere of the common school he may pay for a more select pri-
vate one. But he is taxed compulsorily to support this schooi
which parental duty forbids him to use; so that the system in
this case amounts to an iniquitous penalty upon him for his
faithfulness to his conscience. What clearer Instance of perse-
cution could arise? Once more it is sneeringly asked: "Have
children's morals never been corrupted in private schools?"
They have, alas, often been. But this only shows our argument
stronger instead of weaker; for it proves that parental vigilance
as to the moral atmosphere of the children's comrades needs to
be greatly increased; while this system insists upon extinguish-
ing all such conscientious watchfulness, and provides the pun-
ishment of a mulct for its exercise.
The second objection is yet more damning as against the
system of State schools in this country. They are, and will in-
evitably be, wielded by the demagogues, who are in power for
the time, in thp interests of their faction. Here is a danger and
a curse whic-i lust not be estimated by the results of the system
in any other country, such as Scotland or Prussia. In the for-
mer kingdom the Presbyterian system of parochial schools gave
what was virtually a national primary education. But it was not
obnoxious to this perversion to factious uses. Scotland is a lit-
tle country, and was then almost absolutely homogeneous in
religion and polities; the government was a stable, hereditary
monarchy, of the change of which there was neither possibility
nor desire; the schools were controlled by the parish clergy and
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 211
kirk sessions, parties whose attitude was at once independent,
and dissociated from political objects and managers. In Prus-
sia, also, we see a permanent military monarchy ruling the peo-
ple with a uniformity and resistless power which has hitherto
left no hope to the demagogue. It is very true that this mon
archy does manipulate the i^tate schools in the interest of its
own perpetuity, and in doing so inflicts on tlie minds of the
people no little injury. But the wrong thus done is as white
as snow compared with pitch, when set against the foul per-
versions wrought 1)3' our demagogues in power. For an old,
stable monarchy is always infinitely more decent and moderate
than a democratic faction in America rioting on the spoils of
party success. The teachings of the monarchy, if self-interest-
ed, are at least conservative and consistent; and they include
a respectal)le knowledge of the riiristian religion. It will be
utterly delusive, therefore, to argue for the value of State com-
mon schools from Scotland or I'russia. Our demagogues will
take effectual care that our schools shall not yield us even the
mixed fruits which those nations have reaped from theirs.
For what is it on which American politicians do not lay
their harpy hands to get or to keep the spoils of office? On the
offices themselves, which the law has instituted for the public
service; on finance; on commerce; on the railroads; on the
productive industries of the citizens; on taxation; on our lioly
religion itself! And, like the harpies, whatever they touch
the}^ contaminate! That the school system of the States is per-
verted to factions and sordid ends is so notorious that we shall
not insult the intelligence of our readers by many testimonies.
Has not the supreme official of the school system in the State
of Indiana, for instance, been seen to publish to tlie world his
unblushing boast that he had successfully arrested the whole
machinery to inculcate upon all the children of that State the
malignant and lying creed of Radicalism? And this man, after
satisfying his masters, the Radical Legislature, of his success
in placing this gospel of hate and murder, and these utter falsi-
fications of history and fact and constitutional law, in the ten-
der hand of every child in Indiana, only intimates, in the most
gingerly and apologetic way, a faint inclination to give them
the Word of God: which yet, he hastens to assure them, he had
not presumed to attempt! Again, these omnipotent school
212 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
boards, under the plausible pretext of uuit'oruiity of text-books,
enter into alliances with capitalists who are publishers of books
(for what solid consideration, who can tell?), giving them the
monopoly of manufacturing American history, ethics and poli-
tics for the children of a whole ^tate, without leaving any op-
tion to the parent. This single feature, presented iby the alli-
ance of the "Book-Trade" with the Education Boards, is suffi-
cient to condenm the whole in the judgment of every inde-
pendent mind. If it is not corrected the liberty of the citizens
is gone. In some of those Southern States where the Conserva-
tives have been so, fortunate as to retain control of the State
governments the advocates of State education are openly heard
attempting, in their new-born zeal, to reconcile the people to the
measure forced upon them by promising that it shall be so
manipulated as to train the next generation of negroes to vote
with the Conservatives. Now the temptation of the oppressed
to foil their oppressors may be very strong; and they may be
inclined to be rather unscrupulous in the means of defense
against enemies so unscrupulous and abhorred as the carpet-
bag horde. It may be very alluring to us to employ this tyran-
nical system, which is forced upon us against our will, to the
ruin of its inventors, and thus to "hoist the engineer with his
own petard." But the foreseeing man cannot but remember
that it is a dangerous force which is employed, and that on any
change of the faction in power what we hope to make sauce to
the (Radical) goose may become sauce to the (Conservative)
gander. It is a hazardous game for good people to attempt to
"fight the devil with fire."
This perversion of a pretended system of education is as in-
tolerable as it is certain. It is hard enough to have a triumphant
faction rule us in a mode which outrages our sense of equity
and patriotism — shall they also abuse their power to poison the
minds of our own children against the principles which we
honor, and to infect them with the errors which we detest? Is
it not enough that our industries must all be burdened and our
interests blighted by the selfish expedients of demagogues
grasping after power and plunder? Must the very souls of our
children be made merchandise and trafficked with in the same
hateful cause? What freemen can endure it? These practices
have already disclosed their destructive fruits in preparing a
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 213
whole generation, by a pupilage of lies, for a war of plunder
and subjugation against the South. For years before the war the
sectional and aggressive party had control of the State educa-
tion in Xew England and the Northwest. They used their op-
portuniry diligently; and the result was that when the chance
to strike came, they had a whole generation trained to their
}»urpose in hatred of the South and in constitutional heresies.
Such was the testimony of Daniel Webster. Two gentlemen
from Virginia — ^old collegemates of mine — were visiting Wash-
ington during Mr. Filmore's administration. Webster's return
towards an impartial course had then gained him some respect
in the South, and my twio friends paid their respects to him.
While conversing with them he fixed his dark eyes on them,
and with great earnestness asked: ''Can't you Southern gen-
tlemen consent, upon some sort of inducement or plan, to sur-
render slavery?" They replied firmly: "Not to the interference
or dictation of the Federal Grovernment. And this not on ac-
(•(uint of mercenary or selfish motives, but Ibecause to allow
outside interference in this vital matter would forfeit the lib-
erties and other rights of the South." "Are you ifixed in that?"
asked Webster. "Yes, unalterably." "Well," he said, with an
awful solemnity, "I cannot say you are wrong, but if you are
fixed in that, go home and get ready your weapons:" They
asked him what on earth he meant. He replied, that the par-
sons and common-school teachers and school-marms had dili-
gently educated a whole Northern generation into a passionate
hatred of slavery, who would, as certainly as destiny, attack
Southern institutions. So that if Southern men were determined
not to surrender their institutions they had better prepare for
war. Thus, according to Mr. Webster, the crimes, woes, and
horrors of the last fifteen years aie all partly due to this school
system. The only condition in which free government can ex-
ist is amidst the wholesome competition of two great constitu-
rional parties, who watch and restrain each other. The result
of this system of State schools is that the successful party ex-
tinguishes its rival, and thus secures for Itself an unchecked
career of usurpation. For it aims to extinguish all the diver-
sity and independence which the young would derive from par-
ental inculcation, and to imprint upon the whole body of com-
ing citizens its own monotonous type of political heresies and
214 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
passions. This is viitually doue in America. For tlie Northern
Democratic party is only a little less radical than the Radicals,
and really separated from them chiefly by the craving for party
sp3ils. If the triumphant faction, wielding this power of uni-
versal education, happens to be one as able, patriotic, and hon-
est as the party of Knox and Melville, then there may result the
marvelous homogeneity and thrift of Presbyterian Scotland.
But the ascendant faction may happen to be a ruthless and un-
principled Radicalism, armed with this power of universal cor-
ruption 3f future opiuiou and morals I And what then? All
is lost; the remaining alternatives are Chinese civilization, or
savagery. Your very obedient servant, R. L. DABXEY.
DR. DABNEY'S BATTERY. ^
HE OPENS FIRE ON DR. RUFFNER FROM ANOTHER
QUARTER.
His Fourtli Letter— The Bible in the Public Schools— The Diffi-
culty not Limited to America — Is Religious Training Essen-
tial?— The Human Spirit a Monad — The Duty of Parents.
IV.
Hampden Sidney, Va., May 4, i8t6.
To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools:
Dear Sir. — The third objection to education by the State is,
if possible, more conclusive still. It is one which looms up al-
ready in such insuperable dimensions that we freely acknowl-
edge the hope that the whole system may be wrecked by it at
an early day. This is the difficulty, especially for American
Commonwealths, of the religious question. What religion shall
be taught to the children by the State's teachers as the neces-
sary part of the education of reasonable and moral beings? We
have only to mention the well-known facts that the citizens
of these Amencan States are conscientiously divided among
many and rival sects of religion, and that our forms of goveni-
ment tolerate no union of Church and State, and guarantee
equal rights to all men irrespective of their religious opinions,
to show to any fair mind how impossible it is for the advo-
cates of universal State education to do more than evade the
point of the difficulty. It has been made familiar to every read-
er of the newspapers in America iby recent events in this coun-
try— ^in New York, in Cincinnati, and elsewhere. The teaching
of King James's version of the Christian Scriptures even has led
to violent protest and even to actual riot and combat. The
most numerous and determined complainants are, of course,
Roman Catholics; but the Jews, now becoming increasingly nu-
merous and influential, and the Unitarians and Deists must
1 Appeared in Richmond Enquirer. '-15
216 THE statp: frke school system.
claim similar grounds of protest. Their argument is that this
version of the Scriptures is, in their sincere judgment, erron-
eous; and therefore thev cannot conscientiously permit it to bo
taught to their children. But as they are taxed to support these
schools, they cannot be justly perverted to teach their children
an obnoxious creed without a virtual establishment of the
Protestant religion at public expense; which is an outrage
against the fundamental principles and laws of the State. The
special advocates of the common schools, who are usually also
zealous Protestants, try hard to tlout tliis objection as captious.
But while we are very far from being Komanists in religion,
we feel that this difficulty canuot be justly disposed of in this
way. If the State, through its teachers, taught the children of
us Protestants that version of the Bible which makes the Re-
deemer say: ''Except ye do penance ye shall all likewise per-
ish." we should make a determined resistance. No i)ower on
earth would force us to acquiesce in such inculcation of what
we devoutly believe to be religious error. And we should feel
that it was an inexcusable injustice to tax us for the purpose of
teaching to our beloved children what we could not, at the peril
of our souls, permit them to learn. Xow, the common-school
advocates of New York and of Ohio would say, our objection
is just, because the Latin vulgate is really an erroneous trans-
lation; the objection of the Romanists is unjust because King
James's is a substantially correct version of Grod's word. As
theologians, and in an ecclesiastical arena, we assert that this is
true; and are confident that we can establish it. But this is not
the point. We have covenanted that in our political relations
as citizens of the Commonwealth, all shall have equal rights
irrespective of their religion. In tliat sphere we are bound to
be impartial; "our word is out." The very point of the coven-
ant is. that so far as civic rights and privileges go, our Roman-
ist fellow-citizens" opinions (erroneous though we deem them.
In our religious judgment) shall be respected precisely as they
are required to respect ours. The weight of the Romanist pro-
test, then, cannot be consistently evaded by American repub-
licans.
This difficulty is not limited to our democratic land. In
Great Britain and Ireland, where the government is moving for
national education, all the denominations of Christians are
hopelessly involved in it. For the settlement of this matter,
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 217
there are, if the State educates, but three possible alternatives.
One is to force the relij^ion of the majority on the children of
the minority of the peojde. The injustice of this has already
been proved. A second solntijn is what the British call the
plan of "concurrent endowment.'' It consists in aidin<>- the citi-
zens of different religious to gather their children in separate
schools, in which religious instruction may be g"iven suited to
the views of the parents, and all paid far 'by the State alike.
The clamors of the Romanists in New York have been partially
appeased by acts falling virtually under this plan. The city
government, in view of the fact tliat Romanists cannot con-
scientiously send their children to schools which they are taxed
to support, make appropriations of public mone}^ to some of
their schools, which are in every respect managed after their
own religious ideas. This ''concurrent end'owment" is justly as
odious to the great Protestant body, both in this country and
Great Britain, as any plan could be. It offers its seeming: solu-
tion only in places populous enough in the several rival reli-
gions to furnish materials for a school to each. In all other
places it makes no provision for the difficulty. It is a dereliction
from principle in a State i)revalently Protestant in its popula-
tion thus to place contradictory systems of 'belief upon a com-
plete legislative equality, teaching both alike, when the truth
of the one inevitably implies the falsehood of the other. It
outrages the rights of Protestants by expending a part of the
money they pay in propagating opinions which they regard as
false and destructive, and it gives to erroneous creeds a pecun-
iary and moral support beyond that which t^hey draw from the
zeal and free gifts of their own votaries. For these reasons the
plan of "concurrent endowment" is reprobated by all the strong-
er denominations on both sides of the Atlantic. The Irish and
Amencan Catholics profess to approve it, because they expect
to gain something by it, but most inconsistently. Who dreams
that if they held t'he power, and were in the majority in either
the British or Yankee empire (as in the French), they would be
willing to see "good Catholic money" appropriated by the State
to teach ''Prote.stant heresies?"
The third alternative proposed is, to limit the teaching of
the State schools in every case to secular learning, leaving the
parents to supply such religious instruction as they see fit in
218 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
their own way and time, or to neglect it wholly. Of this solu-
tion no Christian of any name can 'be an advocate. We have
seen how utterly the Pope and his prelates reprobate it. All
other denominations in Europe regard it as monstrous; and in-
deed no adherent of any religion can be found in any other age
or country than America who would not pronaunce it wicked
and absurd for any agency undertaking the education of youth
to leave their religious culture an absolute blank. Testimonies
might be cited to weariness; we will satisfy ourselves with a
few. two of which are of peculiar relevancy, because drawn
from unwilling witnes.ses, earnest advocates of tState schools.
In an annual meeting of the Teachers' Association of the State
of Maryland a well-considered piece was read by a prominent
member, in which the immense difficulty of the religious ques-
tion in State schools was fairly displayed. The author, on the
one hand, admitted that the rights of conscience of parents
could not be justly disregarded. He held, on the other, that a
schooling devoid of moral and religious teachings ought to be
utterly inadmissable. The best solution he could suggest was,
that the State should get up a course of moral and theological
dogmas for its pupils, embracing only those common truths in
which all parties are agreed, and excluding every truth to which
any one party took exception. And he admitted that, as we
have Protestants. Papists, Unitarians, Jews, Deists, etc., (not to
say Mormons and the heathen Chinese), the Bible and all its
characteristic doctrines must be excluded! It is too plain that
when the State school's creed had been pruned of every proposi-
tion to which any one party objected, it would be worthless and
odious in the eyes of every party, and would be too emasculated
'^^o do any child's soul a particle of good.
In a meeting of the Educational Association of Virginia
four years ago a pious and admirable paper was read by one
of the most eminent citizens in the State (Dr. J. B. Minor) on
this theme: ''Bible instruction in schools." After some exor-
dium it begins thus: "It must be acknowledged to be one of
the most remarkable phenomena of our perverted humanity
that among a Christian people, and in a Protestant land, such a
discussion should not seem as absurd as to inquire whether
school-rooms should be located under water or in darksome cav-
erns. The Jew, the Mohammedan, the follower of Confucius
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 210
and of Brahma, each and all are careful to instruct the youth of
their people in the tenets of the religions they profess, and are
not content until, by direct and reiterated teaching, they 'have
been made acquainted with at least the outline of the books
which contain, as they believe, the revealed will of Deity.
Whence comes it that Christians are so indiflferent to a duty so
obvious, and so universally recaguized by Jew and Pagan?''
The absolute necessity of Bible instruction in schools is then
argued with irresistible force. Yet, with all this, such is the
stress of the difficulty which we are pressing, it betrays this able
writer into saying: "I do not propose to allude to the agitating
question of the introduction of the Scriptures into public
schools conducted under authority of government." But why
not? If other schools so imperatively need this element of Bi-
ble instruction, why do not the State schools? Its necessity is
argued from principles which are of universal application to
beings who have souls. Why shall not the application be made
to all schools? Alas! the answer is: the right conclusion cannot
be applied to State schools. We claim, then, this is a complete
demonstration that the State is unfit to assume the educational
function. The argument is as i)lain and perfect as any that can
be imagined. Here is one part which is absolutely essential
to the very work of right education : the State is effectively dis-
abled from performing that part. Then the State cannot edu-
cate, and should not profess it. The argument is parallel to
this: In order to be a country physician it is essential that one
shall ride in all weathers. A. cannot ride in bad weather. Then
A. cannot be a country physician, and if he is an honest man he
vsill not profess to be.
Whether the religious training is ■essential to all right edu-
cation, let us hear a few more witnesses. Said Daniel W^ebster,
in the Girard will-case, commenting on the exclusion of clergy-
men from the proposed orphan college : "In what age, by what
sect, where, when, by whom, has religious truth been excluded
from the education of youth? Nowhere; never. Everywhere,
and at all times, it has been and is regarded as essential. // is
of the essence, the vitality of useful instruction "' Says Sir
Henry Bulwer: ''I do not place much confidence in the phil-
osopher who pretends that the knowledge which develops the
passions is an instrument for their suppression, or that where
!^20 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
there are the most desires there is lili:ely to be the most ordei-
and the most abstinence in their gratification." The historian
Fronde (a witness bv no means friendly to orthodoxy), quoting
Miss Nightingale, a philanthropist as Christian as wise, em-
phatically endorses her opinion, that the ordinary and natural
effect of the communication of secular knowledge to youths
whose destiny is labor is only to suggest the desire for illicit
objects of enjoyment. Says Dr. Francis Wayland: "Intellec-
tual cultiyation may easily exist without the existence of yirtue
or love of right. In this case its only effect is to stimulate de-
sire; and this unrestrained by the love of right must eventually
overturn the social fabric which is at first erected.'' Hear John
Locke: "It is virtue, then, direct virtue, which is the hard and
valuable part to be aimed at in education. * * * jf virtue
and a well-tempered soul be not got and settled so as to keep
out ill and vicious habits, languages, and science, and all the
other accomplishments of education, will be to no purpose ^u^
to make the worse or more dangerous itian^''
We propose now to substantiate these ^iews of the wise
and experienced, by arguing that tuition in Christianity is es-
sential to all education which i.s worth the name. And we claim
more than the admission that each man should at some stage
of his training, and by somebody, be taught Christi;inity; we
mean in the fullest sense that Christianity must be a present
element of all the training at all times, or else it i-s not true and
valuable education. Some one may say that this broad propo-
sition is refuted at the outset by frequent instances of persons
who received, at least during a part of their youth, a training
perfectly non-Christian, and who yet are very useful, and even
Christian citizens. The answer is easy: It is the prerogative of
a merciful Providence, and the duty of His children, to repair
the defects and misfortunes of His creatures and to bring good
out of evil. But surely this comes far short of a justification for
us if we willingly employ faulty methods which have a regular
tendency to work evil. Surely it is not our pri\ilege to make
mischief for God and good Christians to repair!
Let the candid reader, then, ponder the weight of these
facts. The human spirit is a monad, a single, unit, spiritual
substance, having facilities and .susceptibilities for different
modifications, but no parts. Hence, when it is educated it is
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 221
educated as a uuii. The moral judgmeuLs aud acts of the soul
all involve an exercise of reason; so that it is impossible to sep-
arate the ethical and intellectual functions. The conscience is
the supreme, directive faculty of the soul; so that knowledge
•bears to moral action the relation of means to end. Man fulfills
the ends of his existence, not by right cognitions, but by right
m'oral actions. Hence we are obviously correct in holding that
the fundamental value of right cognitions is simply as they are
the means of right moral acts — that is, the knowledge is really
valuable only as it is in order to right actions. Again: The na-
ture of responsibility is such that there can be no neutrality, or
tertium quid, between duty and sin. "He that is not with his
God is against him." He who does not positively comply with
the ever-present obligation does ipso facto violate it, and con-
tract positive sinfulness. Hence as there cannot be in any soul
a non-Christian state which is not anti- Christian, it follows that
any training which attemj)ts to be non-Christian is there-
fore anti-Christian. God is the rightful, supreme mas-
ter and owner of all reasonable creatures, and their
nearest and highest duties are to him. Hence to train
a soul away from him is a robbery of God, which he cannot
justify in any person or agency whatsoever. He has not, in-
deed, committed to the 8tate the duty of leading souls to him
as its appropriate task. This is committed to the familj' and to
his church. Yet it does by no means follow that the State may
do anything tending to the opposite. The soul is essentially ac-
tive, and every human being in his active powers of moral de-
sire, volition and habit, is unavoidably exercising himself.
Hence, whatever omission or neglect maj' be practiced as to the
formation of a character, every character does inevitably form
itself, for evil if not for good! Eemember, also, that evil ex-
ample is omnipresent in the world, and the disposition to re-
spond to it is innate in every child. How obvious, then, that a
"let-alone policy" as to the moral development must, to a great-
er or less degree, amount to a positive development of vicious
character? Not to row is, itself, to float down the stream. Once
more: the discipline of one set of faculties may leave other
faculties inert and undeveloped. This result is, then, more than
a negative mischief, because the balance or proportion of the
character is then more perverted. Should the branches and
222 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
leaves of a tree cuiitiinie to grow while the rjots remained sta-
tionary it would result in the destruction of the tree, and this
although the roots contracted no positive disease or weakness.
The first gale would blaw it over in consequence of the dispro-
portion 'of its parts. In this view the conclusion cited above
from Sir H. Bulwer and Mr. Froude is seen to be perfectly just.
With the increase of knowledge temptations must increase.
Wider circles of imagined enjoyments are opened to the de-
sires, so that if the virtuous habitude is not correspondingly
strengthened, criminal wishes and purposes will be the sure re-
sult. He who has criminal purposes is, moreover, by his knowl-
edge equipped with more power to execute them. Locke's con-
clusion is just. In the words of Dr. Griffin, to educate the mind
without purifying the heart is but "to place a sharp sword in
the hand of a madman." Our last proposition of these premises
is that practically the Bible is the source and rule of moral ob-
ligation in this land. By this we do not mean to decide that
even an atheist, not to say a disbeliever in inspiration, might
not be still obliged from his principles to recognize the impera-
tive force of CDUscience in his own reason, if he w'ould philoso-
phize correctly. But practically few do recognize and obey con-
science except those who recognize the authority of the Bible.
This book is, in point of fact, the source from which the Amer-
ican people draw their sense of obligation, and of its metes and
•bounds, so far as they have any. This is especially true of chil-
dren. Grant the inspiration of the Bible, and we have a basis
of moral appeal sd simple and strong that practically all other
■bases are comparatively worthless, especially for the young. Its
moral histories have an incompatible adaptation to the popular
and the juvenile mind. The Bible alone applies to the heart and
conscience with any distinct certainty the great forces of future
rew^ards and punishments and the powers of the world to come.
And, above all, it alone provides the purifjing influences of re-
demption.
There can be, therefore, no true education without moral
culture, and no true moral culture without Christianity. The
very power of the teacher in the school-room is either moral or
it is a degrading, brute force. But he can show the child no
other moral basis for it than the Bible. Hence ray argument
is as perfect as clear. The teacher must be Christian. But the
THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 228
American Commouwealth has promised to have no religions
character. Then it cannot be teacher. If it undertakes to be, it
must be consistent, and go on and unite Churcli and State. Are
you ready to follow your opinions to this consistent end?
Since religious education is so essential a part, It is obvious
that a wise Providence must have allotted the right and duty of
giving it to some other of the independent spheres between
which he has distributed the social interests of man. This duty
rests with the parent. Such is the Protestant doctrine — the
Bible doctrine. Neither State nor Church are to usurp it; but
iboth are to enlighten, encourage and assist the parent in his
inalienable task.
A feeble attempt has been made to escape this fatal objec-
tion by saying: Let the State schools teach secular knowledge,
and let the parents, in other places and times, supplement this
with such religious knowledge as they please and by the help
of such Church as may please them. The fatal answers are:
Ist. The secular teacher depends for the very authority to
teach upon the Bible. 2d. The exclusion of the Bible would
put a stigma on it in the child's mind which the parent cannot
afterwards remove. 3d. How can one teach history, ethics, psiy-
chology, cosmogony, without implying some religious opinions?
4th, and chiefly: The parents who are too poor, ignorant, and
delinquent to secure their children secular schooling will, by
the stronger reason, be sure to neglect their religious education.
But these are the parents whose deficiencies give tlie sole pre-
text for the State's interference, so that the one-sided training
which the State leaves merely secular will remain so in all these
cases. But these cases give to the State common school its sole
raison d'etre.
I conclude, therefore, that in a country like America, at
least, your favorite system is ina])plicable, and will work only
mischief. Our old Virginia system, besides its economy, has
these great logical advantages: that it leaves to parents, with-
out usurpation, their proper function as creators or electors of
their children's schools, and that it thus wholly evades the re-
ligious question, which is, to you, insoluble. Government is not
the creator but the creature of human society. The Govern-
ment has no mission from God t) make the community; on the
contrary, the community should make the Government. What
224 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM.
the community shall be is determiued by Providence, where it is
happily determined by far other causes than the meddling of
governments — ^by historical causes in the distant past — by vitml
ideas propagated by great individual minds — especially by the
Church and its doctrines. The only communities which have
had their characters manufactured for them by their govern-
ments have had a villainously bad character — like
the Chinese and the Yankees. Noble races make their gov-
ernments; ignoble ones are made by them.
I remain your very obedient servant,
R. L. DABNEY.
SECULARIZED EDUCATION.'
Who is the agent entitled to control ecliieation? What is
right education? These questions are interdependent. Two
answers have been proposed to the first in history: The State,
the Church. In Europe, Liberalism saj'S the State, and insists
on secularizing education, by which it means its release from
the control of popery. Liberals see clearly that, under that
control, there will ibe no true freedom. ]^ut, as they also in-
sist on secularizing the State, their idea of a free education is
of one devoid of religion, sei)arating the mental from the spir-
itual culture. Thus they conclude that education must be God-
less, in order to be free. Rome has herself to blame for this
error, as for most of European scepticism. She claims that she
alone is Christian: independent minds reply, "Then Christian-
ity is evil." So if her education were the only Christian, free-
men would have to reject Christian education. If private judg-
ment is sin; if the hierarchy is the Church; if the teacher is a
real priest and essential ''proxy" between men and salvation;
if his teaching is infallible; if the real end of the culture is to
enslave the soul to a priesthood with a foreign head; if that head
is absolutely superior to the secular sovereignty, such ecclesias-
tical education will be civil slavery. It is not strange that nu'U
seeking civil liberty spurn it.
The mistake is in confounding ecclesiastical with Christian
education. Let the Scripture be heard: "The kingdom of God
is within you," consisting, not in a greedy hierarchy, but in
the rule of Truth; the clergy are not lords over God's heritage,
but only "ministers iby whom we believe"; it has no penalties
but the spiritual, reaching no man's civil rights; its only other
function is didactic, and its teaching only binds so far as the
layman's own conscience responds; it is the Church's duty to
instruct parents how God would have them rear their children,
— ' 005
1 A-p-pearedinLibbifs Princeton Renew.
226 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
aud enforce the duty bj- spiritual sanctions; but there its of-
ficial power ends. It does not usurp the doing of the important
task it inculcates. As a Christian private man the minister
lends other parents his knowledge and virtues to co-operate in
their work. But all this implies no danger either to spiritual or
religious liberty.
But it will be well for the modern Liiberal to pause and ask
whether he secures anything by this transfer of the educating
function from Church to State? Does he point to the results
of Jesuit teaching, spurious, shallow scholarship, an enslaved
and morbid conscience, which dares not even wish to break its
fetters, the insatiable greed of the hierarchj- for influence aud
money, the hateful perversion of the sacred task to inspire false-
hood and prejudice for this end? The picture is sufficientl}'
repulsive. But are only ecclesiastics grasping? Is liuman na-
ture depraved? Is it essentially the same in all men? Then
w^hy are they not to be expected to act in similar ways, when
subjected to the same temptations? And the modern Liberal
is the last man to overlook this truth; since he is sceptical of all
professions of spiritual principles in clergymen, and prone to
ascribe secular motives. He should, then, expect the dema-
gogue to show a misguided ambition exactly like the priests.
What is the hierarch but a ghostly demagogue? The dema-
gogue is but the hierarch of Mammon's altar. Does he not, for
instance, pervert that other educating agency, the press, just as
violently as the Jesuit the school? Now, let him become ruler
in the State and the State become educator; and there is just
the same risk that the education of youth will be perverted to
subserve a faction, and that, by the hateful means of imbuing
their minds with error and passion in place of truth and right.
The result is despotism of a party instead of a pope. One may
be as bad as the other.
But if the State is the educator, in America, at least, educa-
tion must ibe secularized totally. In theory our State is the in-
stitute for realizing secular justice. It has absolutely severed
itself from all religions equally; has pledged itself that no man's
ciA'il rights shall be modified or equality diminished by any re-
ligion or the lack of any; and has forbidden the establishment
of any religion by law, and the imposition of any burden for a
religious pretext on any. But the State school teacher is her
SECtTLARlZED EDUCATION. 227
official, and teaches bj her authority. All school-offiL-ials ileiivo
their authority from State laws, hence all their functions are as
truly State actions as those Df the sheriff in hanging, or the
judge in sentencing a murderer. Especially is the school fund,
raised l)y taxation, the common and equal property of the peo-
ple.
But as our people are divided among many religions, that
money ought no more to be used in schools to teach one religion
in preference to the others, than in a church establishment. Once
the people of a small State, like Connecticut, were so homoge-
neous, that any dissentient minority was minute, and the dom-
inant religion was taught "on State account.'' without any
protest loud enough to be inconvenient. But the mixture of
our people, and especially the strength and audacitj' of popery,
now makes all this ditTerent. Papists make an effective issue,
arguing that the State must not use the people's money to teach
King James's version, which they, a part of the people, believe
heretical. Zealous I'r^testants, usually zealous State school
men, try to tiout this plea. But wauld they assent to the State's
teaching their children, with their money, the version which
says: ''Except ye do penance ye shall all likewise perish?"
They exclaim : "That is an erroneous version, while King
James's is faithful." Theologically that is doubtless true. But
the very point of the State's covenant with the people is, that
the State shall not judge, either way, of that proposition. It has
been bargained that, in the State arena, we shall respect papists'
religious views, preciseh' as we require them to respect ours.
Suppose them, some day, in as large a majority in some State
as PrDtestants are in New England, would we acquiesce in their
forcing the study of the Douay version in State schools'.' So,
unless we admit that our might makes our right, we ought not
to inflict the parallel wrongs on the Jews, Mohammedans, Athe-
ists, and Buddhists among us, because they are still few.
It is sought to parr}' this conclusion thus: While all re-
ligions are equal, and no one established, the State is not an
atheistic institute, but must ground itself in the will of God,
which is the standard of all rights. That the State is an ethical
institute and for ethical ends. That hence it enjoins the Saib-
bath, punishes blasphemy, etc. Tliat e<iually the State, while
not establishing one religion to the prejudice of others, ought
228 SECDLARIZED EDUCATION.
to teach the divine truths common to all, by the iinsectariau
use of the Bible. But, whether this be the just basis of a com-
monwealth or not, our States do not avow it. And second, the
question is not of the original Scripture in common schools, but
of some one version, among other competing ones, which even
Protestants do not claim to be infallible. Hence the question,
Which version? raises sectarian issues. Third, we do not be-
lieve, any more than these reasoners, that the State can be athe-
istic, because it is an ethical institute, and the divine will is the
only valid ethical rule. But the State finds the theistic basis
in natural theology. The proof is, that pagan States, resting
only on natural theism, were valid, and rightfully (Rom. 13: 5)
possessed the allegiance even of Christians. The evasion there-
fore is futile.
But be the logic of this question what it may, the actual
result is certain. The papists will inevitably carry the point,
as they have already done in many places. That they will
triumph everywhere else that they care to try, is plain from the
growing timidity of the Bible advocates, the poverty of the com-
promises they offer, and the spreading indifference of the masses
to the value of biblical teaching. In fact, on American prem-
ises, the Bible advocates have no plea 'but a pious predilection,
and sooner or later logical considerations, Avhen so clear, must
assert their force. The difficulty of the problem appears thus:
That it agitates other free governments than ours, as the Brit-
ish and Holland, at this day.
For the solution there are, on the theory of State education,
four suggestions. The first is the unjust one of forcing the relig-
ion of the majority on the minority. The second is what is
called in Great Britain the plan of "concurrent endowments."
Each denomination may have its own schools endowed by the
State, and teach its own religion in it along with secular learn-
ing. This is virtually the plan by which New York papists have
been partially appeased. It is justly rejected by Protestants
everywhere. First, because it offers no solution save where
the several denominations are populous enough to sustain a
school for each in the same vicinage. Second, because the
State has no right thus virtually to assert the co-ordinate and
equal value of opposing creeds, the truth of one of which may
imply the positive falsehood of another. Third, because the
SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 229
State has no right to indicate of cither of the creeds that it is,
■or is not. true and valuable. Fourth, because Protestantism is
more promotive of thrift and wealth than the erroneous creeds;
whence a given number of Protestants will pay more school-tax
than the same number of errorists, so that this plan uses a part
of their money to foster creeds they conscientiously believe
mischievous. Fifth, it gives to error a pecuniary and moral
sui)pDrt beyond what it w^ould receive from the spontaneous
zeal of its votaries. And last, it disunites the population by
training youth in hostile religious camps. Irish and American
papists have professed to approve ^because they gain by the plan.
But who dreams that if they were in the majority they would
be willing to see "good Catholic money'' expended in teaching
Protestant heresy?
The third plan proposes to give "unsectarian" religious in-
struction in tlie tirst hour of the day, while parents who dissent
from it are allowed to detain their children from school until
that hour is passed. This amounts to the State's establishing
a religion and using the people's money to teach it, but "per-
mitiing dissent without any other penalty than the taxation for
a religious object which the taxpayer condemns. That is to
sny, it places the matter where England places her established
religion, since the "Toleration Act" of William and Mary re-
lieve 1 dissenters of penal pains for absence from the Anglican
churches. But the thing Americans claim \%liberty and not tol-
eration. They deny the State's right to select a religion, as
the true and useful one, for anybody, willing or unwilling.
Those who dissent from the selected religion deny that the
State may thus expend the people's money as a bait to careless
or erroneous parents to submit their children to the inculcation
of error.
The only other alternative is to secularize the State's teach-
ing absolutely, limiting it to matters merely secular, and leav-
ing parents or the Church to supplement it with such religious
teaching as they may please, or none. Some Christians, driven
by the ditticulty which has been disclo.sed, adopt this conclu-
sion. The largest number, notwithstanding the difficulty, reject
it with energy. Let us see whether this plan is either possible
or admissible.
This is really the vital (luestion. It cannot be discussed
230 SECULAEIZED EDUCATION.
until we agree what education is, and disperse deceptive mis-
conceptions of it. It is properly the whole man or person that
is educated; but the main subject of the work is the spirit.
Education is the nurture and development of the whole man for
his proper end. The end must be conceived aright in order to
understand the process. Even man's earthly end is predomin-
antly moral. Xow, if dexterity in any art, as in the handling
of printer's type, a musket, a burin, a power-loom, w^ere educa-
tion, its secularization might be both possible and proper. Is
not a confusion here the source of most of the argument in de-
fense of that theory? For instance, "Why may not the State
teach reading and writing Vvithout any religious adjuncts, as
legitimately as the mechanic thus teaches his apprentices filing,
planing, or hammering?"" Because dexterity in an art is not
education. The latter nurtures a soul, the other only drills a
sense-organ or muscle; the one has a mechanical end, the other
a moral. And this answer cannot be met by saying, ''Let it
then be agreed that the State is only teaching an art, a dexter-
ity— that, for instance, of letters." For the State refuses to be
understood thus: it claims to educate-, as is witnessed by the uni-
versal argument of the advocates of this State function, that
she has the right and duty of providing that the young citizens
shall be competent to their responsibility as citizens. But these
are ethical. Again, if the State professed to bestow, not an
education, but a dexterity, equity would require her bestowing
not only the arts of letters, but all other useful arts. For oniy
the minority can ever live by literary arts; the great majority
of children have equal rights to be taught the other bread-win-
ning arts. Thus government would become the wildest com-
munism. Xo, the State cannot ado])t this evasion; unless she
says that she educates, she can say nothing.
It should also be remarked here that the arts of reading and
writing are rather means of education than education itself, and
not the only nor the most effective means. As Macaula.y
showed, against Dr. S. Johnson, the unlettered part of the
Athenians were, in some respects, highly educated, while we see
many minds, with these arts, really undeveloped.
But is a really secularized education either possible or ad-
missible?
First, Xo people of any age, religion, or civilization, before
SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 231
ours, has ever thought so. Against the present attempt, right
or wrong, stands the whole common sense of mankdind. Tagan,
Papist, Mohammedan, Greek, Protestant, have all hitherto re-
jected any other education than one grounded in religion, as a^b-
surd and wicked. Let Mr. Webster be heard against the Gi-
rard will, which enjoined, in order to exclude Christianity from
his college, that no minister should ever enter its walls. The
argument against the will here was, that the trust it proposed
to create was, in this, so opposed to all civilized jurisprudence,
as to make it outside the law, and so void, ^o formida^ble did
the point seem to lawyers, that Mr. Horace Binney, of the de-
fense, went to England to ransack the British laws of trusts.
It was in urging this point that Mr. WeSbster uttered the mem-
orable words:
*'In what age, by what sect, where, when, by whom, has
religious truth been excluded from the education of youth?
Nowhere. Never! Everywhere, and at all times, it has been
regarded as essential. It is of ihe essence, the vitality of useful
instruction.''^ And this was not the assertion of Mr. Webster,
the politician, but of the learned lawyer, face to face with able
opponents, and making one of the most responsible forensic
efforts of his life. He knew that he was uttering the weighty
voice of history and jurisprudence.
Let another witness be heard, of equal learning and suiper-
iur character.* "It must be acknowledged to be one of the
most remarkable phenomena of our perverted humanity, that
among a Christian people, and in a Protestant land, such a dis-
cussion"' (whether the education of youth may not be secular-
ized) "should not seem as absurd as to inquire whether school-
rooms should be located under water or in darksome caverns!
The Jew, the Mohammedan, the follower of Confucius, and of
P.rahma, each and all are careful to instruct the youth of their
people in the tenets of the religions they profess, and are not
content until, by direct and reiterated teaching, they have been
made ac(iuainted with at least the outline of the books which
contain, as they believe, tlie revealed will of Deity. Whence
comes it that Christians are so indifferent to a duty so obvious,
and so obviously recognized by Jew and Pagan?''
We are attempting then an absolute novelty. But may not
*John B. Minor. LL. D.. University of Virginia.
232 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
the tree be already known by its fruits? State educatian among
Americans tends to be entirely secularized. What is the result?
Whence this general revolt from the Christian faith in this
country, so full of churches, preachers, and a redundant Chris-
tian literature, so boastful of its Sabbaths and its evangelism?
AVhat has prepared so many for the dreary absurdities of mate-
rialism? Why do the journals which seek a national circulatian
think it their interest to aflfect irreligion? Why so many lamen-
tations over public and popular corruptions? He who notes
the current of opinion sees that the wisest are full of misgivings
as to the fruits of present methods. As a. specimen, let these
words, from the Governor of Massachusetts, at a recent anni-
versary, be taken: "'He'- (Gov. Bice) "lifted up a warning
voice, with respect to the inadequacy and perils of our nodern
system of one-sided education, which supposed it could develop
manhood and good citizenship out of mere brain culture.''
SecDud, True education is, in a sense, a spiritual process,
the nurture of a soul. By spiritual, the divines mean the acts
and states produced by the Holy Ghost, as distinguished from
the merely ethical. The nurture of these is not human educa-
tion, but sanctiflcation. Yet education is the nurture of a spirit
which is rational and moral, in which conscience is the regula-
tive and imperative faculty; whose prDper end, even in this
world, is moral. ]>ut God is the only Lord of the conscience;
this soul is his miniature likeness; his will is the source of obli-
gation to it; likeness to him is its perfection, and religion is the
science of the soul's relations to God. Let these statements be
placed together, and the theological and educational processes
appear so cognate that they cannot be separated. Hence it is
that the common sense of mankind has ever invoked the guid-
ance of the minister of religion for the education of youth; in
India the Brahmin, in Turkey the Imam, in Jewry the Raibbi,
and in Christian lands the pastor. So. everywhere, the sacred
books have always been the prime text-books. The only excep-
tion in the world is that which Rome has made for herself by
her intolerable abuse of her powers. Does the secularist an-
swer that this sacerdotal education results in a Boeotian char-
acter and puerile culture? Yes, where the sacred books are
false Scriptures, but not w^here it is the Bible which is the text-
book. So that these instances prove that the common sense of
SECULARIZED EDUCATION". 233
mankind has been at bottom correct, and lias only beoii abused,
in some instances, ibv imposture.
The soul is a spiritual monad, an indivisible, spiritual unit,
without parts, as without extension. Those powers, which we
name as separate faculties, are only modes of function with
which this unit is qualified, ditt'erentiated by the distincti dus of
the objects on which they operate. The central power is still
one. From these truths it would appear that it cannot be suc-
cessfully cultivated by patches. We cannot have tiie intellectual
workman polish it at one place, and the spiritual at another. A
succession of objects may be presented ta the soul, to evoke
and discipline its several powers; yet the unity of the beinji^
would seem to necessitate a unity in its successful culture.
It is the Christian ideas which are most stimulating? and en-
i\obling to the soul. He who must needs omit them from his
teaching is robbed of the right arm of his strength. Where
sliall he get such a definition of virtue as is presented in the
repealed character of God? Where so ennobling a ])icture of
benevolence as that presented in Christ's sacrifice for his ene-
mies? Can the conception of the inter-stellar spaces so ex-
l)and the mind as the thought of an infinite (Jod, an eternal
existence, and an everlasting destiny?
Every line of true knowledge must find its completeness in
its convergency to God, even as every ibeam of daylight leads
the eye to the sun. If religion be excluded from our study, ev-
ery process of thought will be arrested before it reaches its
])roper g jal. The structure of thought must remain a truncated
cone, with its proper apex lacking. Richard liaxter has ner-
vously expressed this truth.""
Third, If secular education is to be made consistently and
honestly non-Christian, then all its more important branches
must be omitted, or they must submit to a mutilation and falsi-
fication, far worse than absolute omission. It is hard to con-
ceive how a teacher is to keep his covenant faithfully with the
State so to teach history, cosmogony, psychology, ethics, the
laws of nations, as to insinuate nothing favorable or unfavor-
able touching the prefei-red beliefs of either the evangelical
Christians, Papists, Socinians, Deists, Pantheists, Materialists,
or Fetisch worshippers, who claim equal rights under American
*-Reformed Pastor " pp. 91, 96.
234 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
institutions. His paedagogics must indeed be ''the pla.v of
Hamlet, with the part of Hamlet omitted." Shall the secular
education leave the young citizen totally Ignorant of his own
ancestry? But how shall he learn the story of those struggles,
through which Englishmen achieved tliose liberties which the
colonies inherited, without understanding the fiery persecutions
of the Protestants under "Bloody Mary," over which the
Pope's own Legate, Cardinal Pole, was sent to preside?
How shall the sons of Huguenot sires in New York, Virginia,
or Carolina know for what their fathers forsook beautiful
France, to hide themselves in the Northern snows or the mala-
rious w^oods of the South, and read nothing of the violation of
the ''Edict of Nantes," the "Dragonnades," and the wholesale
assassination of St. Bartholomew's day, in honor of which an
"infallible" predecessor of the Pope nangTe Deums and struck
medals? Or, if the physicist attempt to ascend farther in man's
history, can he give the genesis of earth and man, without in-
timating whether Moses or Huxley is his prophet? Or can the
science of moral obligation be established in impartial oversight
of (rod's relation to it. and of the (piestion whether or not his
will defines and grounds all human duty? Or can a Grotius or
a Vattel settle the rights of nature and nations without either
affirming along with the Apostles that "God hath made of one
blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the
earth, and hath determined the times before appointed and the
bounds of their habitation," or else denying it with the infidel
ethnologist? How much of the noblest literature must be os-
tracized, if this plan is to be honestly carried out? The State
teacher must not mention to his pupil Shakespeare, nor Bacon,
nor Milton, nor Macaulay. The Index Expurgatorius of free
democracy will be far more stringent than that of despotic
Rome! But it is not necessary to multiply these instances.
They show that Christian truths and facts are so woven into the
very warp and woof of the knowledge of Americans, and con-
stitute so beneficial and essential a part of our civilization, that
the secular teacher, who impartially avoids either the affirma-
tion or denial of them, must reduce his teaching to tlie bare giv-
ing of those scanty rudiments, which are, as we have seen, not
knowledge, but the mere signs of knowledge.
Does some one say that practically this showing is exagger-
SECULARIZED EDUCATlOlSr. 235
ated, for he is teacliiug- some purely secular course, without any
such niainiing of his suibjects or prejudicing of Christianity? If
his teaching is more than a temporary dealing with some cor-
ner of education, the fact will be found to be that it is tacitly
anti-Christian; overt assaults are not made; but there is a
studied avoidance which is in effect hostile. Tiiere can be no
neutral position between two extremes, where there is no middle
ground, but "a great gulf fixed."
Fourth, Of all rightful human action the will is the execu-
tive and the conscience the directive faculty. Unless these be
purified and enlightened, to enhance the A'igor of the, soul's
other actions by training is -'but superfiuous mischief. If in a
ship the compass be lost and the pilot blind, it is better that
there should not be a great force to move her machinery. The
more energetic its motion, the greater is the likelihood the ship
will speedily be upon the breakers. Surely this is sufficient to
show {j the reflecting mind that right moral inculcation can-
not be separated at any jM)int or for any time from the intel-
lectual, without mischief.
One very obvious and yet not the weighiest application of
this truth is to the discipline of the school itself. No training
of any faculty takes place without some government. On what
moral basis shall the teacher who wholly suppresses all appeal
to religion rest that authority which he must exercise in the
school-room? He will find it necessary to say to the pupil,
"Be diligent. Be obedient. Lie not. Defraud not," in order
that he may learn his secular knowledge. But on whose au-
thority? There is but one ground of moral obligation, the will
of God, and among the people of this country he wlio does not
find the disclosure of that will in tlie Scriptures, most often
finds it nowhere. But this teaclier must not inculcate this
Bible, Then his mere might must make his right, or else the
might of the iparent, or of the magistrate, to whose delegated
authority he points back. Or his apjteal may he to mere self-
interest!
Will this government be wholesome for a youth's sjul?
But from a pupil the youth becomes a citizen. He passes
under wider and more complex obligations. The end of the
State schooling is to fit him for this. The same question re-
curs, with transcendent moment, On what Ibasis of right shall
'236 SECULAEIZED EDUCATION.
these duties rest? As a man, it is presumable he will act as lie
was taught while a boy. Of course then the grounds of obliga-
tion employed with him in school should be the ones he is to
recognize in adult life. In the State school a non-Christian
standard alone could be given him. He cannot be expected
now to rise to any better; he may sink to a lower, seeing the
ground then given him had no foundation under it.
That is to say, young Americans are to assume their respon-
sibilities with pagan morals, for these are just what human rea-
son attains from the non-Christian standard. Will this suf-
fice to sustain American institutions? One may say: Natural
theism may deduce quite a high ethical code, as witness the
Greek philosophy. So could a man who rightly construed the
data of his consciousness be an atheist; even the atheist might
find in them proof that conscience ought to govern. But he
does not, nor does the pagan reason acf as Epictetus specu-
lated .Let us begin to legislate for the people as they ought to
be, and we shall have a fine card-castle. In fact, Americans,
taken as we find them, who do not get their moral restraints
from the Bible, have none. If, in our moral training of the
young, we let go the 'Thus saith the Lord," we shall have no
hold left. The training which does not base duty on Christian-
ity is, for us, practically immoral. If testimony to this truth
is needed, let the venerable Dr. Griffin, of a former generation,
be heard. ''To educate the mind of a bad man without correct-
ing his morals is to put a sword into the hands of a maniac."
Let John Locke be heard. "It is virtue, then, direct virtue,
which is the hard and valuable part to be aimed at in educa-
tion." ******* ''If virtue and a well-tempered soul be not
got and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious habits, lan-
guages and science, and all the other accomplishments of edu-
cation, will be to no purpose but to make the worse or more dan-
gerous man." Let Dr. Francis Wayland be heard. ''Intel-
lectual cultivation may easily exist without the existence of
virtue or love of right. In this case its only effect is to stim-
ulate desire; and this, unrestrained by the love of right, must
eventually overturn the social fabric which it at first erected."
Last, let Washington be heard, in his farewell address, where
he teaches that the virtue of the citizens is the only basis for
8ECTTLARIZED EDUCATION. 237
social safety, and that the Christian religion is the only ade-
quate basis for that virtue.
But, is not mental culture per se elevating? It is hard for
us to give up this flattery, because hitherto education has been
more or less Christian. The minister has been the American
school-master. But are not the educated the more elevated?
Yes. For the reason just given, and fDr another; not that their
mental culture made them seek higher morals, but their (and
their parents') higher morals made them seek mental culture!
We are prone to put the cart before the horse. Again I cite
evidence. James Anthony Froude, a witness by no means
friendly to orthodoxy, quoting Miss Florence Nightingale, em-
phatically endorses her opinion, that the ordinary, as the nat-
ural effect of the mere communication of secular knowledge to
youths, is only to suggest the desire for more numerous, and,
for the bulk of men whose destiny is inevitably narrow, illicit
objects of desire. But they plead: In teaching the youth to
know of more objects of desire you also teach him to know more
restraining considerations. The fatal answer is that knowledge
does not rule the heart, tout conscience (if anything does); mere
knowledge, without God's fear, makes desire grow faster than
discretion. 8ays i^ir Henry Bulwer: ''I do not place much con-
fidence in the philosopher who pretends that the knowledge
which develops the passions is an instrument for their suppres-
sion, or that where there are the most desires there is likely
to be the most order, and the most abstinence in their gratifica-
tion.'' Again, the soul should grow symmetrically. Let the
boughs of a tree grow, while the roots (without actual disease)
stand still; the first gale would blow it over, because of the dis-
proportion of its parts,
Fifth, We need the best men to teach our children. The
best are true Christians, who carry their religion into every-
thing. Such men neither can nor will bind themselves to hold
so influential a relation to precious souls for wlioui Christ died,
and make no effort to save them. So the tendency must be
towards throwing State schools into the hands of half-hearted
Christians or of contemptuous unbelievers. Can such be even
trusted with an important secular task? Railroads persist in
breaking the Sabbath; so they must be served on the track ex-
clusively by profane Sabbath-breakers or truckling professors
238 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
of religion. The consequence is, they are scourged with negli-
gent officials, drunken engineers, and defaulting cashiers. So the
State will fall into the hands of teachers who will not even teach
secular learning honestly; money will be wasted, and the schools
will become corrupting examples to their own pupils of slight-
ed work and abused trusts.
Sixth, To every Christian citizen, the most conclusive argu-
ment against a secularized education is contained in his own
creed touching human responsibility. According to this, obli-
gation to God covers all of every man's being and actions. Even
if the act be correct in outward form, which is done without
any reference to his will, he will judge it a shortcoming. ''The
ploughing of the wicked is sin." The intentional end to which
our action is directed determines its moral complexion su-
premely. Second, Our Savior has declared that there is
no moral neutrality: ''He that is not with him is against him,
and he that gathereth not with him scattereth abroad." Add
now the third fact, that every man is born in a state of
alienation from Grod; that practical enmity and atheism are the
natural outgrowth of this disposition; that the only remedy
for this natural disease of man's spirit is gospel truth. The com-
parison of these truths will make it perfectly plain that a no//-
Christian training is literally an anti Christian training.
This is the conclusive argument. The rejoinder is at-
tempted; that Christians hold this theology as church mem-
bers, and not as citizens; and that we have ourselves urged that
the State is not an evangelical agent, and its proper business is
not to convert souls from original sin. True, but neither has it
a right to become an anti-evangelical agency, and resist the
work of the spiritual commonwealth. While the State does not
authorize the theological beliefs of the Christian citizens, neith-
er has it a right to war against tliem. While we have no right
to ask the State to propagate our theology, we have a right to
demand that it shall not oppose it. But to educate souls thus is
to oppose it, because a non-Christian training is an anti-Chris-
tian training. It may be urged again, that this result, if evil,
will not be lessened by the State's ceasing to teach at all, for
then the training of youth will be, so fas as she is concerned,
equally non-Christian. The answer is, that it is one thing to tol-
erate a wrong as done by a party over whom we have not law-
secularized'education. 239
ful control, but wholly another to perpetrate that wronj;- our-
selves. For the State thus to do what she ought to rondeuin in
the godless parent, though she be not auth;:>rized to interfere
would be the sin of "■framing fnischief by a Imv'' the. very trait
of that ''throne of iniquity" with wliich the Lord cannot have
fellowship.
It is objected again, that if the State may govern and pun-
ish, which are moral functions, she may also teach. If we are
prepared for the theDcratic idea of the State, which makes it the
universal human assiociation, To I lav of human organisms,
bound to do everything for society from mending a road or
draining a marsh up to supporting a religion, then we can con-
clude thus. But then consistency will add to State schools a
State religion, a beneficed clergy, a religious test for office, and
State power wielded to suppress theological as well as social er-
ror. Again, while secular ruling and punishing are ethical func-
tions, they are sufficiently grounded in the light of natural the-
ism. But teaching is a spiritual function — -in the sense defined
— and for teaching beings fallen, and in moral ruin, natural the-
ism is wholly inadequate, as witness the state of pagan society.
Christian citizens are entitled (not by the State, but by one
higher, God) to hold that the only teaching adequate for this
fallen soul is redemption. But of this the State, as such, knows
nothing. As God's institute for realizing secular justice, she
does know enough of moral right to be a praise to them that do
well and a terror to evil-doers.
The most plausible evasion is this : Since education is so
comprehensive a work, why may there not be a ''division of
labor?'' Let the State train the intellect and the Christian
parent and the Church train the conscience and heart in the
home and the house of worship. \Yitli this solution some
Christians profess themselves satisfied. Of course such an ar-
rangement would not be so bad as the neglect of the heart by
both State and parent.
Points already made contain fatal answers. Since con-
science is the regulative faculty of all. lie who must not deal
with conscience cannot deal well with any. Since the soul is a
monad, it cannot be equipj)ed as to ditterent parts at different
times and places, as a man might get his hat at one shop and his
boots at another; it lins no parts. Since all nuilis converge
240 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
towards God, lie who is not to name God, must have all his
teachings fragmentary; he can only construct a truncated fig-
ure. In history, ethics, philosophy, jurisprudence, religious
facts and propositions are absolutely inseparable. The neces-
sary discipline of a school-room and secular fidelity of teachers
call for religion, or we miss of them. And no person nor organ-
ism has a right to seem to say to a responsible, immortal soul,
"In this large and intelligent and even ethical segment of your
doings you are entitled to be godless.'' For this teaching State
must not venture to disclaim that construction of its own pro-
ceeding to its own pupil. That disclaimer would be a religious
inculcation!
But farther: Why do people wish the State to interfere in
educating? Because she has the power, the revenues to do it
better. Then, unless her intervention Is to be a cheat, her sec-
ularized teaching must be some very Impressive thing. Then
its impression, which is to be non-Christian, according to the
theory, will be too preponderant in the j'outh's soul, to be
counterpoised by the feebler inculcation of the seventh day.
The natural heart is carual, and leans to the secular and away
from the gospel truths. To the ingenuous youth, quickened by
animating studies, his teacher Is 'Magnus Apollo, and according
to this plan he must be to his ardent young votary wholly a
heathen deity. The Christian side of the luminary, if there is
one, must not be revealed to the worshipper! Then how pale
and cold will the infrequent ray of gospel truth appear when it
falls on him upon the seventh day! In a word, to the suc-
cessful pupil under an efficient teacher, the school is his world.
Make that godless, and his life Is made godless.
If it be asked again: Why may not the State save itself
trouble by leaving all education to parents? The answer is, Be-
cause so many parents are too incapable or careless to be
trusted with the task. Evidently, if most parents did the work
well enough, the State would have no motive to meddle. Then
the very taison d'etre of the State school is in this large class
of negligent parents. But man is a carnal being, alienated from
godliness, whence all those who neglect their children's mental,
will, a fortiori, neglect their spiritual, culture. Hence we must
expect that, as to the very class which constitutes the pretext for
the State's interposition, the fatally one-sided culture she give
SECtTLARTZED EDUCATION. 24l
will remain one-sided. She has no right t3 presiiine any tiling
else. Bnt. if may be asked: Is not there the churcli to take
lip rliis pai-r. neglected by bntli secularized State and godless
parent? The answer is, The State, thus secularized, cannol
claim to know the Chuch as an ally. Besides, if the Church
be found sufficiently omnipresent, willing, and efficient,
through the commonwealth, to be thus relied on, why will
she not inspire in parents and individual philanthropists zeal
enough to care for the whole education of youth? Thus again,
the whole raison d'etre for the State's intervention would be
gone. In fact the Church does not and cannot repair the mis-
chief which her more powerful, rich, and ubiquitous rival, the
secularized State, is doing in thus giving, under the guise of a
non-Christian, an anti-Christian training.
It is also well known to practical men that State common
schools obstruct parental and philanthropic effort. Thus, par-
ents who, if not meddled with, would follow the impulse of en-
lightened Christian neighbors, their natural guides, in creating
a jjrivate school for their children, to make it both primary and
classical, now always stop at the primary. "The school tax
must be paid anyhow, which is heavy, and that is all they can
do." Next, children of poor parents who showed aspiration for
learning found their opportunity for classical tuition near their
homes, in the innumerable private schools created by parental
interest and public spirit, and kindly neighborhood charity nev-
er suffered such deserving youths to be arrested for the mere
lack of tuition. Now, in country places not populous enough to
sustain "State High Schools," all such 3'ouths must stop at the
rudiments. Thus the country loses a multitude of the most use-
ful educated men. Next, the best men being the natural lead-
ers of their neighbors, would draw a large part of the children
of the class next them upward into the private schools created
for their own fannlies, which, for the same reason, were sure to
be Christian schools. The result is, that while a larger num-
ber of children is brought into primar3- schools, and while the
statistics of the illiterate are somewhat changed, to the great
delectation of shallow philanthropists, the number of you lbs
well educated in branches above mere rudiments, and especial-
ly of those brought under daily Christian training, is diminish
ed. In cities (where public opinion is chiefly manufacliircdj
242 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
high schools may he sustained, and this evil obviated so far as
secular tuition goes. But in the vast country regions, literary
culture is lowered just as it is extended. It is chiefly the coun-
try which fills the useful professions — town youths go into
frade.
The actual and consistent secularization of education is in-
admissible.
But nearly all public men and divines declare that the State
schools are the glory of America, that they are a finality, and in
no event to be surrendered. And we have seen that their com-
plete secularization is logically inevitable. Christians must pre-
pare themselves then, for the following results: All prayers,
catechisms, and BilDles will ultimately be driven out of the
schools. But this will not satisfy Papists, who obstinately —
and correctly were their religion correct — insist that education
shall be Christian for their children. This power over the hopes
and fears of the demagogues will secure, what Protestants can-
not consistently ask for, a separate endownment out of the com-
mon funds. Eome will enjoy, relatively to Protestantism, a
grand advantage in the race of propagandism; for humanity al-
ways finds out, sooner or later, that it cannot get on without a
religion, and it will take a false one in preference to none. Infi-
delity and practical ungodliness will become increasingly preva-
lent among Protestant youth, and our churches will have a more
arduous contest for growth if not for existence.
Perhaps American Protestants might be led, not to abandon
but to revise their opinions touching education, by recalling the
conditions under which the theory of State education came to
be first accepted in this country. This came about in the col-
onies which at the same time held firmly to a union of Church
and State. The Massachusetts and Connecticut colonies, for
instance, honorable pioneers in State education in this country,
were decidedly theoretic in their constitution. The Reformed
religion was intimately interwoven. So all the Protestant States
of Europe, whose successful example is cited, as Scotland and
Prussia, have the Protestant as an established religion. This
and State primary education have always been parts of one con-
sistent system in the minds of their rulers in Church and State.
A secularized education, such as that which is rapidly becoming
the result of our State school system, would have been indig-
SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 243
naiitly roprobated by the Wintlirops and Mathers, the Kuoxs,
Melvilles, and Chalmers, and, it is presumed, by the Tholucks
and even Bismart-ks of those eommonwtMltlis, wliieh are poinlc;!
to as jireeedcnts and models. It is submitted, whether it is ex-
actly candid to quote the oj)inions and acts of all these great
men, for what is, in fact, another thing- from what they advo-
cated? Knox, for instance, urged the primary education of
every child in Scotland 'by the State. But it was because the
State he had helped to reconstruct there was clothed with a
recognized power of teaching the Reformed religion (through
the allied Church), and because it was therefore able, in teaching
the child to read, also to teach it the Scriptures and the Assem-
bly's Catechism. Had Knox seen himself compelled to a sever-
ance of Church and State (which he would have denounced
as wicked and paganish), and therefore to the giving by the
State of a secularized education, which trained the intellect
without the conscience or heart, his heroic tongue would have
given no uncertain sound. Seeing then that wise and good men
in adopting and successfully working this system, did so only for
communities which united Church and State, and mental and
spiritual training, the question for candid consideration is:
^Vhat modifications the theory- should receive, when it is im-
ported into commonwealths whose civil governments have ab-
solutely secularized themselves and made the union of the sec-
ular and spiritual powers illegal and impossible?
The answer may, perhaps, be found by going back to a first
j)rinciple hinted in the outset of this discussion. Is the direc-
tion of the education of children either a civic or an ecclesiasti-
cal function? Is it not propei'ly a domestic and parental func-
tion? First, we read in holy writ that God ordained the family
by the union of one woman to one man, in one flesh, for life, for
the declared end of "seeking a godly seed." Does not this imply
that he looks to parents, in whom the family is founded, as the
responsible agents of this result? He has also in the fifth Com-
mandment connected the child proximately, not with either
presbyter or magistrate, but with the parents, which, of course,
confers on them the adequate and the prior authority. This ar-
gument appears again in the very order of the historical gene-
sis of the family and State, as well as of the visible Church. The
family was first. Parents at the outset were the only social
244 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
heads existing. The right rearing of children by them was in
order to the right creation of the other two institutes. It thus
appears that naturally the parents' auhority over their children
could not have come by deputation from either State or visible
Church, any more than the water in a fountain by derivation
from its reservoir below. Second, the dispensation of Divine
Providence in the course of nature shows where the power and
duty of educating are deposited. That ordering is that ///<?/«r-
ents decide in what status the child shall ibegiu his adult career.
The son inherits the fortune, the social position, the responsibil-
t}^, or the ill-fame of his father. Third, God has i>rovided for the
parents social and moralinfluencesso unique, so extensive, that
no other earthly pow'er, or all others together, can substitute
them in fashioning the child's character. The home example,
armed with the venerable authority of the father and the moth-
er, repeated amidst the constant intimacies of the fireside, sec-
onded by filial reverence, ought to have the most potent plastic
force over character. And this unique power Grod has guarded
by an affection, the strongest, most deathless, and most unself-
ish, which remains in the breast of fallen man. Until the mag-
istrate can feel a love, and be nerved by it to a self-denjdng care
and toil, equal to that of a father and a mother, he can show no
pretext for assuming any parental function.
But the best argument here is the heart's own instinct. No
parent can fail to resent, with a righteous indignation, the in-
trusion of any authority between his conscience and con vie
tions and the soul of his child. If the father conscientiously
believes that his ow^n creed is true and righteous and obliga-
tory before Grod, then he must intuitively regard the intrusion
of any other power betw^een him and his minor child, to cause
the rejection of that creed, as a usurpation. The freedom of
mind of the child alone, when become an adult, and his fa-
ther's equal, can justly interpose. If this usurpation is made
by the visible church, it is felt to be in the direction of popery,
if by the magistrate, in the direction of depotism.
It may Ibe said that this theory makes the parent sovereign,
during the child's mental and moral minority, in the moulding
of his opinions and character, whereas, seeing the parent is
fallible, and may form his child amiss, there ought to be a su-
perior authority to superintend and intervene. But the com-
SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 245
plete answer is, that inasmucli as the supreme authority must
be placed somewhere, God has indicated that, on the whole, no
place is so safe for it as the hands of the parent, who has the
supreme love for the child and the superior opportunit3\ But
many parents nevertheless neglect or pervert the power? Yes,
and does the State never neglect and pervert its powers?
With the lessons of history to teach us the horrible and almost
universal abuses of power in the hands of civil rulers, that ques-
tion is conclusive. In the case of an unjust or godless State,
the evil would be universal and sweeping. Doubtless God has
deposited the duty in the safest place.
The competitions of the State and the Church for the edu-
cating power have been so engrossing that we have almost for-
gotten the parent, as the third and the rightful competitor.
And now many look at his claim almost contemptuously. Be-
cause the civic and the ecclesiastical spheres are so much wider
and more populous than his, they are prone to regard it as every
way inferior. Have we not seen that the smaller circle is, in
fact, the most original and best authorized of the three? Will
any thinking man admit that he derives his right to marry, to be
a father, from the permission of the State? Yet there is an illu-
sion here, because civic constitutions confer on the State certain
police functions, iso to speak, concerning marriage and families.
So there are State laws concerning certain ecclesiastical belong-
ings. But what Protestant concedes therefrom that his re-
ligious rights were either conferred, or can be rightfully taken
away, by civil authority? The truth is, that God has immediate-
ly and authoritatively instituted three organisms for man on
earth, the State, the visible Thurch, and the Family, and these
are co-ordinate in rights and mutual independence. The State
or Church has no more right to invade the parental sphere than
the parent to invade theirs. The right distribution of all duties
and power between the three circles w'ould be the complete solu-
tion of that problem of good government which has never yet
been solved with full success. It is vital to a true theory of hu-
man rights, that the real indei)endence of the smallest yet high-
est realm, that of the parent, be respected. Has it not been
proved that the direction of education is one of its prerogatives?
But does not the State's right to exist imply the right to
secure all the conditions of its existence? And as parents may
246 SECULARIZED EDUCATION.
SO pervert or neglect education as to rear a generation incom-
petent to preserve their civil institutions, does not this give the
State control over education? I answer, first, it is not even a
pretext for the State's invading the parental sphere any farther
than the destructive neglect exists, that is, to stimulate, or
help, or compel the neglectful parents alone. Second, precisely
the same argument may authorize the State to intrude into the
spiritual circle and establish and teach a religion. But the
sophism is here: It is assumed that a particular form of civil
institutions has a prescriptive right to perpetuate itself.
It has none. So the American theory teaches, in asserting for
the people the inherent right to change their institutions. Did
3ur republican fathers hold that any people have ever the right
to subvert the moral order of society" ordained by God and na-
ture? Surely not. Here then is disclosed that distinction be-
tween the moral order and any particular civil order, %o often
overlooked, but so eloquently drawn by Cousin. So far is it
from being true that the civil authority is entitled to shape a
people to suit itself; the opposite is true, the people should
shape the civil authority.
It is a maxim in political philosophy, as in mechanics, that
when an organism is applied to a function for which it was not
designed, it is injured au"d the function is ill done. Here is a
farmer who has a mill designed and well fitted to grind his
meal. He resolves that it shall also thresh his sheaves. The
consequence is that he has wrete-hed threshing and a crippled
mill. I repeat, God designed the State to be the organ for se-
curing secular justice. When it turns to teaching or preaching
it repeats the farmers' experience. The Chinese Government
and people are an example in point. The Government has been
for a thousand years educating the people for its own ends.
The result is what we see.
Government powerfully atfects national character by the
mode in which it performs its proper functions, and if the ad-
ministration is e(iuitable. pure and free, it exalts the i>eople.
But it is by the indirect influence. This is all it can do well. As
for the other part of the national elevation (an object which ev-
ery good man must desire), it must come from other agencies;
from the dispensation of Almighty Providence; from fruitful
ideas and herGic acts with which he inspires the great men
SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 247
whom lie sovei-eiguly gives to the nations he designs to bless;
chietiy fi-oui the energy of divine Truth and the Christian vir-
tues, first in individuals, next in families, and last in visible
churches.
Let us suijipose, then, that both State and Church recognize
the parent as the educating power; that the}' assume towards
him an ancilhuy instead of a dominating attitude; that the
State shall encourage individual and voluntary effarts by hold-
ing the impartial shield of legal protection over all property
which may be devoted to education; that it shall encourage all
private efforts; and that in its eleemosynary character it shall
aid those whose poverty and misfortunes disable them from
properly rearing their own children. Thus the insoluble prob-
lems touching religion in State schools would be solved, because
the State was not the responsible creator of the schools, but
the parents. Our educational system might present less me-
dia nical symmetry, but it would be more flexible, more practi-
cal, and more useful. KOBERT L. DAB^^EY.
WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA.'
History of the Rise and Fall of the Slave Foiver in America. By
Henry Wilson. Boston: James R. Osgood &■> Company, 3
Vols., 8vo.,pp. 67O, 720, and y "J 4.
This ponderous work is what the well-iuformed readct
would expect from its author. The first volume professes to
treat the rise of slavery in the United States, from its begin-
nings up to the admission of Texas. The second continues the
history of the sectional controversies about it, to the election of
Lincoln. The third treats of the war and its results.
Of this liuge '"partisan document/' it may be justly said,
that its staple material is sophistry and misrepresentation, and
its very title an insult and falsehoDd. In the sense of the au-
thor, there has been no "slave power" in America. It suited
the purposes of the consx)irators among whom Mr. Wilson acted
all his political life, ta advance their project of riding into sec-
tional domination by means of the Abolition phrensy, to imag-
ine a "slave power" in the South, which cherished the counter-
part design to his: that of usurping the authority of tlie United
States to extend slavery, at the expense of others' rights, over
rhe whole country. But in fact, the States whose citizens owned
slaves, never were a "slave power" in any sense but this: that
they endeavored to employ the rights guaranteed to them by
the laws to protect their legal property; just as Ohio sought to
prDtect the property of her citizens in their swine; Kentucky
hers in their mules; and just as Mr. Wilson sought to protect
his property in shoes. The only differences were that the South
never imitated his protection of his shoe-making profits by par-
tial and dishonest tariffs; and that those interested in the swine,
the mules, and the shoes, were not compelled to a constant self-
defense, because they did not experience from us the constant
and lawless assaults on their rights, which Mr. Wilson's set
aimed at our industries and lawful interests.
1 Appeared in Soii'krrn Planter and F'^rmpr, July, 189r. 248
Wilson's SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA. 249
The book, whose very title is false, may be safely expected
to furnish abundance of similar material in its padres. The
reader has to go a very short distance, indeed, to find this ex-
pectation verified. The preface, in its first paragraphs, informs
us that in 1860, 1861, "treasonable menaces had ripened into
treasonable deeds. A rebellion of gigantic proportions burst
upon the nation with suddenness and fierceness." * * *
"These crimes against the peace, the unity, and the life of the
nation, and these sacrifices of property, of health, and of life,
were the inflictions of the slavenpower, in its maddened efforts
to make perpetual its hateful dominion.'' Tliese six lines con-
tain just seven manifest misstatements. There was no "na-
tion"; for the United States were then a confederation of sov-
ereign i^tates, and consequently there was no "national life," in
]Mr. Wilson's sense. Secondly, it was hence impossible that one
of these sovereign constituents could commit "treason" against
its own creature, the common agent. Hence, thirdly, there could
be no rebellion in the case. Fourthly, the resistance of the
Southern States against usurpation was not sudden; it had
been uniformly and long foretold, and was the deliberate and
fore-declared result of the vital aggressions aimed at their ex-
istence. Neither, fifthly, was there any "fierceness'' about it,
in Mv. Wilson's sense. The South jjrosecuted ils defensive war
with a humanity and moderation chivalrous, and, in the light
of subsequent events, even Quixotic. Mr. Wilson's imagination
had evidently not recovered, when he penned this preface in
1872, from the imprsssion of "fierceness'' derived from his own
panic at Bull Run, when he fled so fast from the "rebels" lie had
come to see conquered. Sixthh% none of the miseries of this
war were inflicted by the States of the South, whom Mr. Wilson
chooses to stigmatize as the "slave power"; for they desired
onlj' to be let alone in possession of their eonstitutiouiil rights.
The war was caused deliberately by Mr. Wilson and his party,
who, as none know better than he knew, with calculated malice
invaded our rights, goaded us to resistance, and refused all
compromise, in order to avail themselves of the Abolilion
l)hrensy to revolutionize the government, estal)lish their own
faction in power, and gratify their spite against the men whom
they could never forgive for being injured by them. The South
made the war only in the sense in which the lamb of the fable
250 Wilson's slave power in America.
muddied the stream bv drinking belDW the wolf. Seventhly,
and last, the Southern States never had any "dominion," hate-
ful or otherwise, to perpetuate, and never sought any. They
never aimed to be anything but what the laws entitled them
to be, coequal parties to an equitable confederation. The only
"dominion" they ever had was this: that their statesmen had sd
commended themselves by their ability, patriotism, purity, and
disinterestedness to the confederacy, that the majority of the
Northern as well as the Southern citizens had preferred them to
demagogues of the Wilson type. Hinc illae lachrymael The
true solution of these three ponderous tomes is, that they are
the howl of his malice at the American people's preference for
Southern gentlemen over such as him, and of- his gratified re-
venge for the slight.
He begins his "history" (I) Vol. 1., Chap. 1., by ascribing
the existence of slavery to men's selfish desire to live at other
people's expense. This solution suits the slavery of his own
State very well; for they, having no aliens nor savages among
them by providential dispensation, went all the way to Africa
to steal them for slaves. But the accjunt which the Bible gives
of the origin of slavery (Gen. ix. 25-27), is, that it came as the
remedy for the depravity of the enslaved; and that it was the
righteous means ordained by God to protect civilized society
against the vice, laziness, theft, and violence of degraded per-
sons, whose wickedness and ignorance rendered them unsafe
depositories for the franchises of citizenship. Mr. Wilson is an
ardent specimen of that species of '"Christian" whose Bible is
no rule when it cros.ses his spite or his crotchet. The Bible ac-
count of the matter is one expressly appropriate to the South;
for we, when we became free commonwealths in 1776, retained
slavery as the necessary and just remedy for the presence of
the savage Africans, with whom the ''Christians" of Xew Eng-
land and Old England, those simon-pure Abolitionists, had de-
luged us against our protest.
The author then proceeds: "American slavery * * *
converted a being endowed with conscience, reason, affections,
sympathies, and hopes, into a chattel. It sunk a free moral
agent, with rational attributes and immortal aspirations, to
merchandise. It made him a beast of burden in the field of toil,
an outcast in social life, a cipher in the courts of law, and a
WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA. 251
pariah, in the bouse of Grod. His master could dispose of liis
person at will," etc., etc.
Here, again, the errors are at least as numerous as the
propositions. American slavery did not make the moral per-
sonality of the bondsman ''a chattel," but established properly
in his labor; precisely the thing which Mr. Wilson possessed in
his shoe factory operatives, in a much more selfish and grinding
form than our system. We did not make the African a ''beast
of burden in the field," but a laborer, more humanely treated
than ^Ir. \Vilson's hirelings. We did not make him an "out-
cast in social life"; he possessed among his equals abundant
social ties and enjoj'ments, and was, moreover, connected by
real and tender domestic sj-mpathies with his master's family;
a thing which Mr. WilsDn never dreamed of extending to the
families of his hirelings. The bondsman was not "a cipher in
the courts of law." His life, person, and chastity were ishielded
by the same law which protected his master; and his rights had
such full recognition here, that he could sue his own master,
with every advantage in the litigation, for his own liberty, if
he could show any suspicion 3f unjust detention in (bondage.
He was not ''a pariah in the house of God." He worshipped
and partook of the Lord's Supper in the same sanctuary with
his master; and with at least as little social distinction as exist-
ed between Mr. Wilson and the white hireling who had been,
perhaps, his late comrade an the shoe-bench. The master could
not "dispose of his bondsman's person at will." The law^ among
us secured his personal safety, life, chastity, Sabbath-rest, and
subsistence, against his own master. Now, to appreciate the
wickedness of this train of atrocious libels, one must remember
that this man, if he ever took pains to inquire into the real na^
ture of what he was denouncing, must have met with refuta-
tions of them all at his first step, and that, unless he literally
stopped his ears, he must have often heard them disclaimed and
refuted in the Senate of the United States by Mr. Calhoun, Mr.
Hunter, and Mr. Chestnut.
The reader will be curious to know what the author does
with the slave-holding and slave-trading record of his awn State,
both of which were of the blackest and most diabolical sort. To
assume that an American Senator of Mr. Wilson's type knew
something of the authentic history of his own country, might be
252 Wilson's slave power in America.
a very violent surmise. But it would appear that this niau knew
he was deceiving; because he refers expressly, Vol. I., p. 6, to
]\Xoore's "Slavery in Massachusetts," a book which tells the
plain story. He glozes about the protest of one or two old gen-
tlemen, in the early days of the colony, and some abortive and
deceitful legislation against the slave trade. He quotes quite at
large the protests of the Quakers (whom Massachusetts was then
persecuting!) He informs us that little Rhode Island was
actively engaged in the slave trade, and that Newport was a
great emporium for this nefarious traflQc. But he takes care not
to tell us that in 1637, when the Plymouth colony was but sev-
enteen years old, it made trial of its infant strength by sending
out the slave ship ''Desire;" that the most fiendish laws were de-
liberately passed and habitually enforced, for kidnapping, en-
i.'laving, and deporting the Indians near them, from whose hos-
pitality they had secured their homes; that the "General Court"
of Massachusetts recognized the trade as legal, and took a share
in its profits, in the shape of an impost; and that the United
States census of 1790 found six thousand slaA'es in this little and
barren territory. These facts are all substantiated by Moore,
AVinthrop's Journal, and other well-known authors.
But we pass to more recent facts. Mr. Wilson, Vol. II,
Chap. XLV., of course lauds the vulgar old murderer, John
Brown, as one of the purest, noblest, and most disinterested of
heroes and Christian martyrs. He has no objection to the
crimes of the old cut-throat, save that they pursued the wrong
method for assailing slavery, and prejudiced the character of
the party to which they belonged. The Senator does not claim
am' credit for Brown's exploits; but he does not seem to care
at all to veil the fact that he was cognisant of his plans, and
took no effectual steps to preA^ent their execution. That is to
say, this sworn Senator of the Ignited States sat silent while he
knew that treason against not only the State of Virginia, but
tlie United States, was brewing; and he did nothing to arrest
the crime, save dissuade from it on grounds of party policy. It
was well for his neck that the laws of the United States did not
retain the doctrine of constructive treason, and that the Con-
stitution and Government were so soon destroyed; else the his-
torian might have shared the fate of his hero.
As a specimen of his historical accuracy, we may note, Vol.
k''
Wilson's slave power in America. 553
III., Chap. XII., where he assures us that the "capture of Wasli-
iugton was among the first things laid down upon the rebel pro-
gramme.'' * * * arpQ gg-^g ^Yie capital and all the depart-
juents of the Government; to hold Mr. Buchanan in abject sur-
veillance during the remainder of his term, or, if he should
prove too refractorj-^, to eject him for a more serviceable tool;
to prevent the inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, and make Jefferson
Davis, or whoever should be chosen leader of the new regime,
President — these were the real and avowed purposes of the con-
spiracy." On what evidence does the reader suppose he as-
serts this marvelous fiction? Either upon the reports of those
notoriously accurate persons, anonymous newspaper-scribblers,
or the gasconading of some excited stump-speaker! Or else he
albsurdly wrests the expressed purpose of the leaders of the Con-
federacy, a/rer it became rightfully an independent power, and
had been reluctantly forced into a defensive war, to end that
war with the least effusion of blood, by capturing the hostile
capital! He also asserts, upon evidence equally baseless, the
purpose of the Confederates to reopen the African slave trade;
although, as appears, Vol. III. Chap. IX., he had under his eye
the unanimous adoption by the Confederacy of a Constitution,
which prohibited that trade far more effectively than the Con-
stitution of the United States.
In Vol. III., Chap. XLII., Mr. Wilson gives his version of
that act of usurpation and lawlessness, the Emancipation Proc-
lamation. The narrative is singular. He desires to represent
this act as the deliberate result of Mr. Lincoln's progress in con-
scientious conviction and statesmanlike insight. He would fain
have us believe that he grew honestly to it from a more defec-
tive view. But even the brazen armor of the Wilson forehead
seemed to be not quite hard enough for this assertion. He there-
fore conveys it to us as the testimony of tliat sheet, always so im-
.partially and correctly informed upon American alTairs, the
London Times. Now, Mr. Wilson can liardly have be(m more
ignorant of the real history of that step than other well-inform-
ed contemporaries. He knew that Mr. Lincoln, as well as the
Freesoil platform on which he was elected, always and express-
ly disclaimed the right and purpose to meddle with slavery in
the States; that Mr. Lincoln spoke this doctrine and swore to it
at his inauguration. He knew that there was no truth what-
254 WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA
ever in the pretext that the right to liberate the seceded States'
slaves had emerged as a war power, because he had himself,
after his Bull Run footrace, vated solemnly, along with the Con-
gress and President, that the war was not to be prosecuted for
purposes of emancipation, but only to restore the Union as it
had been; and that Mr. Lincoln had been accustomed to reiter-
ate this doctrine continually, in answer to all the urgency of
the Abolitionists. Only a fortnight before the Emancipation
Proclamation appeared, he had been urged by a committee of
these fanatics to use the war to free the negroes; when the
''martyr-President," with the suavity and refinement which were
usual with him, made about this reply, as he almost expelled
them from his presence: "You must either be fools, or must
think me a fool, that you ask me to do this thing which I have
no right to do, and which I have sworn I cannot lawfully do.
The Constitution does not empower me to make war to free ne-
groes, but to restore the Union." Yet, in ne fortnight there-
after, he did the perjured thing! Mr. Wilson doubtless knew
the solution of the question, Whence this summersault? The
solution was this: that the great British public, though pas-
sionately anti-slavery, had at length been so thoroughly awak-
ened (largely through the sagacious efforts of Admiral M.
Maury) to the deceitfulness and injustice of the Yankee war;
that public opinion was pressing the ministry irresistibly
towards that just act, the recognition of the gallant Confed-
eracy. It was then that Lord John Russell, the Lilijjutian
l)rince of the pettifoggers and Abolitionists, instructed his en-
voy at Washington, Lord Lyons, to inform Mr. Lincoln's Gov-
ernment that there was no artifice by which the British people
could longer be restrained more than a few weeks from recog-
nition, except the playing upon their anti-slavery passions by
making the war tangibly a war for abolition. This was the
news which caused Mr. Lincoln to hasten to forswear himself.
This is precisely the amount of credit which the great '"Libera-
tor," and the party he represented, deserved at the hands of
their "fellow-citizens of African descent."
Vol. III., Chap. XLVIL, contains our author's advocacy
and account of the enormous innovation of universal negro
suffrage. On p. GT2, he intimates that tlie few sensible men who
opposed this perilous measure were very naughty children, in
Wilson's slave power in America. 2f)5
that tlipy iiiipnted a partisan desire to luaniifactiire voters for
the Radical ticket, as the motive. He would have us believe
that their motives were the most disinterested possible, and
their deliberation the most cautious, patient, and candid; but
that, turn whichever way they could, they found themselves
shut up to the measure of universal negro suffrage, by their
gratitude to the two hundred thousand negro soldiers who had
eaten rations for the salvation of "the life of the nation,'' by
the logical consistency of their principles of equality, and above
all, by the truculent determination of the "ex-rebels" to tram-
ple on the colored man, unless he were defensively armed with
the ballot. Tlie Senator should have foreseen how dreadfully
this nice story was to be damaged by the "peaching'' of an ac-
complice. Unfortunately, Gen. Sherman, in his most veracious
Memoirs, tells us that Mr. Chase, the power behind the throne
at Washington, assured him in May, 18C5, that it was the pur-
pose of the Government to 'bestow universal sulTrage on the
negroes, and avowed the very reason which ^Ir. Wilson pre-
tends to disclaim. Sherman's Memoirs, \q\. II., p. 373.
The author died in 1872, bequeathing to his country the
curse of his public career, and this large legacy of error and
prejudice, to }):iison the stream of history for those who believe
in him. Sincr his death, the party whom he represented has
been covered with so many infamies by its crimes against lib-
erty and public virtue, that it is becoming hard for even the
Yankee mind to conceal from itself the dishonesty of Radical-
ism. The best, and indeed the only, refutation of false history
like this, will be the developments of the future. The day will
come when all men will recognize the truth that the freesoil,
the warlike, and the reconstruction exploits of Mr. Wilson's
party had precisely as much patriotism and sincerity as its
Credit Mobilier, its salary-grab, its executive and legislative
bargains, and its returning boards. This is tlie only answer to
slander of the South, to which the audience for whom he wrote
will listen. True as all well-informed men know our criticisms
to be, they will pass for nothing with his people at this time.
It may be asked. Why repeat, then, these futile corrections
of pertinacious falsehood, since intelligent men at the South
are so fully informed of them, and othcn's will not heed them?
We write for the generation of young men now growing up at
256 Wilson's slave power in America,
the South, to whom the ohl regime can only be known as his-
toiy. The}' will be prone to feel, with an ingenuousness natural
to the Southern gentleman, as to his fathers, that it is searcelj'
conceivable a man who had been Vice-President, should write
so large a book, so prejudiced and false in its very structure.
In the facility of their charity and truthfulness, they will find
it hard to appreciate the reality. For their sakes the correct
history must be perpetually reasserted, and its falsifications
unmasked. The task is a tedious and repulsive one: to refute
again oft-refuted slanders and sophisms. But it must be done,
or we shall have a generation of sons befaoled into Mr. Wilson's
venomous estimate of their fathers' deeds, and drugged with
his poisonous heresies.
This book impresses the candid reader with several facts
and inferences which are consolatory or instructive. Mr. Wil-
son disijlaj'is, in his vainglorious desire to be a martyr for truth,
the estimate which respectable and sensible men at the Xorih
almost universall}- held of his party at its origin. He tells us,
trutlifully, that Abolition was at first denounced, alike by the
Senate, the Bench, and the Pulpit, as a crime and a mischievous
and senseless fanaticism. The explanation is, that the men of
1833, in the North, while no friends of slavery for their own
society, j^et knew enough experimenlalh' of its real nature to
understand the diabolical wickedness of Abolition. Kespecta-
ble Northern public men had not then become factionists. They
had some respect for law and covenants. They knew what Af-
ricans and slavery were. Hence, they knew Abolitionism to
be, what it has proved itself, the dire enemy of the Constitu-
tion, the African, and the white man, at once. It was only after
the school-master and school-marm, the hirelings of a political
faction, and its Dugald Dalgettys, the politicating parsons, had
educated a new generation upon the pabulum of fictian and
hatred, that the Wilson tribe began to appear statesmen and
patriots, and his libels history.
The attentive reader will rise from the perusal of this book
also impressed with another fact: the Freesoil party never de-
signed anything short of the utter overthrow of Southern rights.
Every page reveals, directly or indirectly, that it was not free-
soil in the territories, but the destruction of the South, which
was its real aim. The pretense of the Lincoln platform, that the
Wilson's slave Power m aMerIca ^fet
right of the States over their own institutions was inviolable,
fades away as one reads, into an invisible veiL There is here
the consolation that the resistance of the South, which was the
occasioUjNOT THE CAUSE, of SO much woe, was not an act of
gratuitous heat. It was the work of the Southern masses, and
not, as Mr. Wilson pretends to believe, of the leaders. Our lead-
ers were mosth' behind the emergency, and were still crying to
the ipeople. Peace! when there was no peace. But the honest
sense of the people had an intuition of the true state of the
crisis; that it was their vital rights which were aimed at. This
book convinces the reader again that the people were right.
Mr. Wilson evinces also the vast mischief done to their own
section by a certain type of S3uthern men, once much admired
among us. The slaveholder of this class was usually a gentle-
man of some culture, and by affectation a philanthropist. He
had probably been educated at Harvard, Amherst, Yale, or
Princeton. .Accustomed to the simple, unaffected honesty of
Southern cultivated sentiment, and the disinterestedness of
Southern patriotism, he was simply incapable of believing in
the duplicity and one-sidedness of Northern politics. When his
more clear-sighted neighbor cautioned him, his answer was:
"For shame I Do not yield to prejudices sa bitter." So, in his
unsophisticated eyes, all that glittered from the Yankee mint
of opinion, passed for gold. He imbibed with docility the fic-
tions which were given him as history, and the pretentious so-
cial science which had libels and boasts far its main facts. When
he returned from the North, and contrasted its prosperity,
bloated with commercial plunderings of the South, and protec-
tive tariffs and bounties, and endless jobs, with the leanness of
the South, he accepted the solution which his professor of this
profitable philosophy had so industriously "dinned into him,''
that this was the curse of slavery-. Thus, so soon as he became
a petty politician, he sought occasion to utter the spurious wis-
doui of his alien teacher. Thus he became, unintentionally, an
echo of the slanders of the enemies of his own people. He as-
cribed to slavery a depression which, but for tluit most ener-
getic and economical form of labor, would have depopulated the
South, and which was really the result of the calculated op-
pression of New England, through the Federal Congress. He
babbled the imaginary political economy of men who never saw
258 Wilson's slave power in America.
slavery, and who argued from assumed facts which never ex-
isted, its impoverishing etTects. He was even criminal enough
to echo the shameful indictments against the morals of his own
people, which had bivn cunningly thrust into his mouth. Xo
where was this species of nascent politician more prominent
than in Virginia, in rhe Legislature which followed the ''South-
ampton insurrection." These young members ventilated their
logic and self-imirortance by spouting in Richnund all the false
facts and absurd theories which they had imported from Yale
and Harvard, about "the fearful insecurity of the system, its
injustice, its wastefulness, and its debauching effects upon
morals." The future found these young gentlemen, indeed, in
two widely sundered classes. Those whom Mr. Wilson quotes
with most admiration, if they survived, were found among our
most despised renegades. The rest, as soon as their beards were
grown, learned better wisdom, and with a happy inconsistency,
became staunch Southern men. But the mischief was done.
They had given the truculent assailants of their fatherland a
text. When the nu)st brilliant of them, James McDowell, in his
wiser years, essayed to stay the tide of fury and aggression in
the Federal Congress, he was answered from his own speeches
in the General Assembly of Virginia. And Mr. Wilson has again
taken care to embalm all the most extravagant of these decla-
mations in his storehouse of slander, as the testimony of Vir-
ginia's own best sons against her. He tells his readers nothing
of the other side. He professes his wonder that Virginia, after
these emphatic confessions, did nothing. He says nothing of
the sober logic of wiser men among the Virginians, which speed-
ily blew away all this froth of youthful eloquence, leaving the
sober reason of all caimed into the clear truth that the old sys-
tem was safest, best, and most beneficent to the African. He
never heard, we presume, of the masterly essay of President
Dew of William and Mary, in which that accomplished man
combined the finest resources of the historian, the jurist, and the
political economist, to evince the shallowness of the emaucipa
tion rhetoric. It was such discussion ;is this which reassured
Virginia and opened the eyes of all her young anti-sla^ ery men,
save such as were ripening into future scalawags. But mean-
time they had slandered their own mother, and her emibittered
enemies will talve good care not to let the slanders die.
Wilson's slate power in awertca. 259
111 cjiK-lusioii. one rises from the perusal of this book vviiii
a moiiriiful impression. What must be the future of a people,
the majority of whom accept such writings as this for history?
This science is the very eye of statesmanship. With false his-
tor}' for pilot, can the ship of state land anywhere but on the
breakers? That people which ''lives, breathes, and has its be-
ing" in an enveloping atmosphere of falsehood in history and
ophisms in philosophy, has nothing before it but to unlearn its
heresies in a fearful school of experience. And what prospect
has the 8outh for just or even merciful rule, when subjugated
l)y a people who believe Senator Wilsin's black rej)resentations
about us? His book has passed already through four editions.
The disdainful and imperious North, pleased to see those whom
she has violently crushed accused of all guilty things, will never
condescend t^ look at any reply, until a retributive Providence
compels her to read it in the calamitous fruits of her creed.
FREE SCHOOLS."
Have vdii seen a single, sensible tax-payer, not a small poli-
tician, and tlius a suitor for impecunious votes, nor a selfish
beneficiary of the plunder disbursed by our school system, who
does nor denounce the whole measure as injust and mischiev-
ous? I have not.. The plan has been tried and found wanting.
The careful observer of Northern opinion sees that while the
demagogues, lay and clerical, still shout for the system, in or
der to catch the populace, thoughtful men in the North are
more radically dissatisfied with it every year, as an expedient
for American commonwealths. I could fill quite a scrap book,
with reflections of leading Northerners, upon the failure of the
system a;s a diffuser of any real intelligence; upon its tenden-
cies to degrade American literature and obstruct better educa-
tion (outside the cities) upon the evident increase of crime and
incendiary opinions under this system; upon its obvious bear-
ing to rear up an atheistic generation of people and prepare for
America a reign of terror; and upon its futility even to diffuse
the art and practice of reading among the laboring masses.
Such a scrap-book might be edifying reading for our Utopians.
It seems very likely, that they have persuaded Virginia to put
on the costly shoes of the Yankees, in this matter, just when
they are getting ready to kick them off with disgust.
Their consciousness of the strength of our arguments
against their pet plan is clearly betrayed in the false issues then-
raise. Because we see that this pretended way of education is
fallacious, dangerous and wasteful, we are the ^^enemies of edu-
cation,'* forsooth! Let us see if even their reluctant heads may
not be forced to admit, that a man may be a true and hearty
friend of a good work, and yet, for that very reason, all the more
opposed to a pretended, mischievous, false way of promoting it :
It is presumed that the State Commissioner for instance, is a
true friend of the evangelization of all the people, and espec-
1 Appeared in Southern Planter and Farmer, January, 1879. -60
FREE SCHOOLS. 261
ially of the poor and ignorant. Consistency, therefore, makes
him an advocate of an established Church to do the evangeliz-
ing, does it? Let him speak out! If he says he is not the advo-
cate of evangelization by State-action, and 3'et the ardent advo-
cate of evangelization, then I ask, by what monopoly of candor
or honest}' does he, while claiming this for himself, impugn our
motives, when we say that we are ardent advocates of the true
education of the poor and ignorant (have been working for it all
our lives); and yet not advocates of education by direct, vState-
action? And while on this point, I will add another question:
If a man reasons consistently, must not tlie State-school men's
logic, from the admitted importance of education, to their State
scheme, also lead every Christian to advocate a State establish-
ment of Christianity? Why not? And does the Superintendent
remember an occasion, at which I was present, when a citizen of
Virginia, eminent for moderation, wisdom, age and benignity
of character, made him admit that very c(mclusion, as, under
certain circumstances following from his positions?
This suggests a point against our present plan, whose for-
midable character is now making thoughtful men at the North,
and in Britain, tremble. The Redeemer said, "He that is not
with me is against me." There cannot be a moral neutrality.
Man is born with an evil and ungodly tendency. Hence a non-
religious training must be an anti-religious training. The more
of this, the larger curse. But the American commonwealth has
expressly pledged herself to a non-religious attitude. Hence,
she cannot, by her State-action, endow or inculcate a particular
i-eligion. While the population of some States was homogen-
eous, this radical difficulty was not seriously felt: the people of
a Protestant State, like Connecticut, could (luietly oversteip the
true history of their own constitution, in favor of Protestantism ;
and there was nobody to protest. But now we have I'apists,
Unitai-ians, Chinese, Jews and Atheists by the myriads; and they
will not acquiesce in the wielding of State-power, in which they
have equal rights, for the partial advantage of a creed to which
they are opposed. The result will be, that their protests will
triumph, as they now do, in many States; and we shall have a
generation of practical atheists reared "on State account"; just
as clear-sighted men in the North see they have on their hands
262 FREE SCHOOLS.
there, rapidly prepariug for them another sans culotte revolu-
tion.
In previous discussion, it was also shown, that the system
of State-schools is agrarian, or communistic, contiscatiug the
property' of one class of citizens for the private and domestic
behoof of another. The justice of this charge none know better
than those who mix with the people; the power to make the rich
man educate their children is the nuiin feature which commends
the system to the non-taxpaying voters. It is valued by them
as a method of plunder. We have also shown that the system
is levelling, and attemjjts an impossibility: to give all the people
literar}' occupations; whereas in all countries, and in spite of
universal schools, it is found that the laboring class does not
read, and does not wish to read. It was shown that the scheme
confounds educatiou with a knowledge of a few literary arts
(reading, writing, etc..) which are not education, but only possi-
ble means thereof; and in the case of the laboring poor, far the
most questionable, and least efficient means of true education.
The tendency of the State's interference was shown to be. to de-
grade the standard of literary educatiou, while diifusing its
poorest elements: since we see good schools disappear as the
primary ones are multiplied. The degradation of literature fol-
lows from the same cause, toy reason of the attempt to supply
a grovelling or shallow literature for the multitude of minds
one-tenth part educated. It was proved \)y stubborn facts, that
common schools have multiplied crime and pauperism, by a
natural intlueuee, suggesting to the laboring classes new wants,
without increasing in them the jjowei' of moral self control or
the means of lawful indulgence. And the dishonesty of their
advocates has been again and again exposed, in continuing to
appeal to their deceptive cry, "Better economy to build school-
houses than jails''; after // hax been proved to them, that the
multiplication of their school- houses has multiplied the jails.
The fearful dangers to the morals of children, by i)romiscuous
minglings in these schools, has been pointed out; and are re-
ceiving confirmations in many parts of the country, in the
spread of abuses too gross to be ventilated in public. The cer-
tainty that our schools will be perverted by demagogues for
party purposes, was pointed out; and was illustrated by facts;
while the intolerable and tyrannical nature of this usurpation
FREE SCHOOLS. 2ij'S
was displayed. Last: the lights of the wiser statesmauship of
better da3's were adduced, to show how perilous it is to fix on
the conmiunitv any system whatsoever, the nature of wliich is,
to subsidize man}' persons, b^' ^ivino; them a seltish, pecuniary
interest in the perpetuation of it, or of its abuses. For, should
the system 'i)rove unwise, or should new circumstances require
its change or repeal, the self-interest of all these subsidized
classes wall prompt them to clamor and defraud the public mind,
so as to uiake the needed repeal impossible or extremely diffi-
cult.
The course of this discussion has added a pungent illustra-
tiju to the }>ower of our last argument. No sooner was discrim-
inating inquiry turned upon the new system, than it was dis-
covered that it had already bribed so many classes, other than
tax-payers, that candid and patriotic discussion was hopeless.
A State Superintendent in the metropolis, a counry Superin-
tendent in each county, with his gang of petty tax gatherers,
his school board for each "townshi})." his campany of school-
masters and schoolmarms, with their whole cohort of pauper
parents, at once waked up to the fact that their much be praised
system enabled them very conveniently to keep their hands in
the pockets of other people. All these joined, in many places,
in raising a mercenary clamor, which has drowned fair discus-
vsion. And our minute politicians, in whose breasts votes are the
breath of life, are seen so intiuiidated, that hardly one of them
dares whisper a doubt against the idol of the socialists. The
manner in which this debate has been conducted by many of
tliese petty place holders would have been enough, were Vir-
ginia what she once was, to overwhelm the whole affair with
righteous disgust and indignation. Citizens who have the right
of tax-payers, to be heard touching their rights, and State-af-
fairs; who are, in many cases veneralble for grey hairs, for ex-
perience, for integrity, and for long lives of labor and sacrifice
for the honor of Mrginia, have been seen yelped after by these
otticials (whose only known service to the State has been draw-
iug salaries wrung from it by a grinding taxation), with ob-
locpiy and ridicule. This is an indecency wliich deserves only
chastisement.
The time was, when Mrginian oHicials had manners and
principle enough to keep silent in a debate touching their own
264 FREE SCHOOLS
emoluments; they felt that delicacy, not to say common de-
cency, prompted the leaving of such questions to be considered
by that larger part of the citizens wh3 had no pecuniary inter-
est in the issue. The time was, when Virginia had a righteous
constitution, the work of statesmen and not of demagogues;
and that instrument contained this provision: That no mem-
ber of a Legislature which debated and decided the creation of
a salaried ofBce, shauld take office under the act creating it.
The reason of this excellent law, was, that the very indecency
on which I remark might be made impossible, at least, in the
Legislature; that no man. when handling the rights of his fel-
low-citizens and of the State, should run even a risk of having
his judgment warped by a pecuniary and personal considera-
tion. But we have now seen all this indecent clamor from the
thraats of paid officials; and we have seen the School Commis-
sioner actually employing the people's money to flood the State
with ex parte documents and arguments, designed to forestall
the expression of the people's judgment as to measures in de-
bate before them, and liable to be justly condemned by them.
All that the school law, bad as it is, could pretend to create
such officials for, was. to execute the provisions of the law. But
under the thin jjretext of diffusing information about educa-
tion, they misapply the people's money to the work of manufac-
turing, in Virginia, a Yankee public sentiment, alien to the
genius and traditions of Virginia, promotive of the continuance
of their personal emoluments! And Virginians stand this?
The utter inadequacy of the pretext for universal negro
schooling was also pointed out; that ''as they are to vote, it is
our duty and interest to educate them into intelligent voter's."
We showed that primary education, larger than that given to
our negroes, had utterly failed to make intelligent voters out of
the white proletariat of the North, and we urged this plain,
honest query: What right have they to promise Virginia that
a smaller dose of their physic which we see only impotent and
mischievous there, will do any good here? The facts they dare
not deny; but at the i)lain, stubborn question they refuse to
look. Blinking that, they only repeat the refuted pretext, an
average specimen of the honesty of the logic. The radical na-
ture of the perils attending negro suffrage was pointed out to
them, from difference of color and race, alien blood, race an-
FEEE SCHOOLS. 265
tipathies, savage morals, total absence of property-stake in the
common weal, subjection to poisonous and malignant outside
influences; and it was asked. Will such a mite of the arts of
reading and spelling, as Virginia free negro children are going
to retain, be any remedy at all fjr these strong perils? Every
man's common sense answers: Just as trustworthy as a minute
bread pill for the yellow-fever! Every man's common sense also
shows him, that while this sham-schooling will be utterly futile
for the end proposed, it will be efficacious for harm, by giving
young negroes pretext for the idleness and the false expecta-
tions which are their and our great perils. The art of reading
may be quite a good thing for him who uses it aright, but these
young negroes are in perishing need of learning many things
which are. for them, infiuitely more momentous than this ques-
tionable boon, and which these baubles Df schools fatally pre-
vent their learning; how to turn a good furrow, how to make an
honest day's work, how to groom a horse, Inw to cook a whole-
some loaf, how to wash a shirt, how to whet a scythe, how to
mow an acre of grass per day, and aib:)ve all, how to live with-
out stealing. We solemnly tell the schonl-men that they are
giving the country a generation of young negroes whose inevi-
tabledestinyistoworkor steal, whom they are so rearing, that
they neither wish to work nor know how. The property-men
of the country cannot hire them, because they know nothing
useful to an employer; and the young negroes would not hire
themselves if they were fit for anything. Come, gentlemen, lay
aside utopianisms, and sophisms, and "false facts," and tell us,
if you please, what Virginia is to do with a half million of
young negroes thus traiuf^d to impotency, when the old genera-
tion, educaied by slavery are gone? Give each one of them
a school to teach? Will they not all have the natural wants and
desires of human beings? Neither able nor willing to work,
will they not take? Can poor, impoverished Virginia stand up
under so much lettered i)aupensm? Will not the alternatives
be universal bankruptcy or anarchical resistance? The ques-
tion is solenm and urgent.
We urge, again, the burning injustice of the present law.
taxing the former owners, after plundering them, for the pre-
tended education of negroes — Virginia had her own system for
educating her negroes. It was a good system, approved by two
266 FREE SCHOOLS.
eeiituries of experience. It turned miserable savaj^es intu a
decent, useful, Christian peasantry. It even diffused fully as
mucli of the arts of letters as the Africans were in a condition
to profit hy ! For it is well known that every young: negro slave
wlio showed any wortliy aspiration at all was usually tau<?ht to
!'t ad in his master's family. It was a system of education, sol-
emnly sanctioned by the laws, human and divine, and g^uaran-
leod to us by the Federal Constitution and the enactments of
C )n<jre8S. >\'ell, it suited the invader's purposes of ambition
to tear down our j;ood, old, legalized, beneficent system of edu-
cation for the negro, and to confiscate our property in him, thus
reducing the white community to the verge of destitution. And
then, l^he oppressor turns around and taxes us, already so ruth-
lessly injured, for means to attemipt a new, expensive and
worthless system for repairing the ruin which he had himself
perpetrated in destroying the well tried and lawful system! The
destruction of the good, old system was his work — a work
wrought exclusively for his own aggressive ends. Let him
bear the cost\if repairing his own mi'Schief. There was wicked-
ness enough in the doing of it. in all conscience. But now, when
he turns ujvon the injured party, and again plundei-s them, un-
dei- the pretense of taking means to repair Ms own first crime,
tL ; wrong is ''rank and smells to heaven." I see not how any
righteous mind in Virginia can have anything to do with it, ex-
cept to protest, while he unavoidably submits.
Hence it is, that when any white man among us pretends
to be an ex awm^approver of this plan, my common sense com-
pels me to be a skeptic as to his sincerity. The old Irish fish-
woman tried to /persuade her customer that the eels rather
liked skinning; but the eels never said so; and had one of them
professed satisfaction with the i)rocess pr see, I should have
persisted in the doubt whether he were a candid and truthful
eel. From this i)oint of view, the sensible reader sees that the
very inception of this State-school matter in Virginia stamiped
its motive with insincerity. The "Underwood Constitution" it-
self, thrust down Virginia's throat as it was. by the breech of
Provost Marshal's musket, did not require the Legislature to
put any system of State schools in operation until ISTO. Every
patriotic reason should have prompted us to wait as long as
our masters allowed us. The State was in a condition of finan-
FREE SCHOOLS. 207
cial exhaustion, which made any breathing time, linvever short,
a boon to her; and her credit was already staggering under a
load she coukl but just carry. There was no experience any-
where in the w-orld, to guide a Legishiture in such a problem
as the Taulervvood Constitution imposed; the education of two
ditferent and hostile races on tbe same soil and in the same
system, and in Virginia, there was a total lack of experimental
knowledge of kState education on the Yankee-plan. It would
have been m'ost beneficial to wait a season, and thus gain the
benefit of other's exj)eriments. Our conquerors, whose imiper-
ious will imposed this plan on us, then had the full fever of
their hatred and tpiumphs on their spirits. Every year that
passed was likely to abate something of their fury, and take
some of the ''wire-edge" off their despotism, so as to hold out
the hope that in 187G they would 'be less exacting of their sub-
jects than in 1870. At least, one would have thought, the Legis-
lature, driven by their masters to so vast, expensive and un-
tried a work, would proceed tentatively, during the six years
of grace, and risque only small experiments, until they had felt
their way. The propriety of delay is evinced by this i)lain ques-
tion: Does anybody dream, that in 1870, after the Funding Bill,
after all the experiences, the disappointed hopes, the decline in
real estate, the ebbing of resources of those six disastrous years,
any Legislature could have been mad enough to commit the
State to the cumbrous and costly incubus fixed on us by the ac-
tion of 1870? Nobody. The blunder would have become im-
possible by 187G. Well, all that we might have gained by the
experience of those six years, with five millions of dollars (spent
(ui these sham-schoolsj, wliicli might either have paid off one-
sixth of our whole debt, saving the State's credit; or, if left in
the people's hands, might have fecundated private enterprise
all over the State; all this our Legislature threw away in 1870.
by its precipitate, superserviceable zeal in carrying out the or-
ders of our conquerors. Why did they thus run six years ahead
of their maister's own orders, in the face of all these obvious
considerations for delay? To buy votes for themselves in coun-
ty elections; to disarm the objections of radical demagogues,
who were hounding on the negro voters after the spoils of the
promised school-system; to ingratiate themselves with the non-
tax-paying voters, by giving them speedily this pretext for
268 FEEE SCHOOLS.
thrusting their liunds iuto their neighbor's pockets. Thus the
system was begun, not in wisdom or patriotism, but in self seek-
ing. Is it asserted that it was necessary to thraw this "tub to
the whale'' at once in order to appease radicalism and save the
State government from its clutches? I reply by the question:
IVas radicalism appeased? Did it not wield the whole negro
vote substantially, notwithstanding the '^tub?" The State was
saved from its foul clutch, not by any aippeasing or dividing of
its greed, but in spite of that greed. Had the ruler of the State
and the leaders of the Conservative party then assumed a quiet,
honest position they would have met the clamor for precipitating
the school-system thus: "When the stipulated time comes, we
shall duly perform the covenant, which a hard necessity has
forced us to agree to. The poverty of the State and the true in-
terests of both races forbid our anticipating the task. No obli-
gation exist to do so, consequently no charge of bad faith can
lie f3r our not doing so." This honest attitude would have been
so impregnable that ir would have put the Conservative party in
a far better iposition before its enemy than it ever gained from
its cowardly haste and rashness.
But I have still more practical objections to make against
our present school-laws and their administration. I charge that,
even if we granted the propriety of the Yankee theory of uni-
ver.sal common-scho )1 education on State account and under
State control; even if the Underwood Constitution were right
in this thing — which I utterly deny — still our present system
is wicked, tyrannical, wasteful and unnecessarily burdensome
to an imjtoverished ])eople. and comparatively inefficient as an
execution of its advocates' own false theory. If it be granted
that theory is to prevail in Virginia, still the present school-
laws and their administration are flagrantly vicious, and call
for tl)e ref(n'm of the Legislature. This I shall prove in a prac-
rical way, by comparing it with actual results in the present and
the past. My argument will proceed on the maxim, that what
has been done by others in the same circumstances, can be done
by Virginia.
First. I bring our boasters to the test of a comparison with
the existing system in the State of G.eorgia, the "Empire State
of the South." Georgia, like us, has been forced by her con-
querors to embark in the Yankee theory of universal primary
FREE SCHOOLS. 260
education on State account and und(M- State control. The vital
article of their present Constitution compelling- this is as fol-
lows :*
''There shall be a thorough system of common sclijols for
the education of children in the elementary branches of our
English education only, as nearly uniform as practicable, the
expenses of which shall be provided for by taxation or other-
wise. The schools shall be free to all children of the State, but
separate schools sha-ll be provided for the white and colored
races."
The revenues provided by the ConstitutiDu and laws, to
support all the schools, ** are the poll tax, the interest on the
existing school fund, a special tax on shows, a tax on the sale
of liquors, a dog tax, and half the net earnings of the ''State
railroad."
No property tax is laid, either on State or local account,
on any real or personal property of individuals, to smpport com-
mon schools. Thus the grand iniquity of our agrarian system is
avoided. Even the Legislature is sternly inhibited from au-
thorizing any local taxations, by any local authority whatso-
ever, for school purposes, until the tax has been expressly ap-
proved by two-thirds of the voters of the locality (city, or coun-
ty, or town). Even this guarded power the Legislature has
hitherto wisely refused to grant; and so far no property tax is
wrested from any one citizen to help to educate another man h
family.
Now let us contrast our "bill of abominations." The Legis-
lature,* in addition to the income of the ''literary fund" and cer-
tain escheats and fines, levies on all property, for a general or
State school fund, a direct tax of ten cents per .flOO annually.
But this outrage is only the small beginning. The county school
board may also tax all property in the county to the same rate;
and the "district school board," the littlest and last gradation
of petty tyranny, the three trustees of a township, may exercise
this highest attribute of sovereignty, and tax their (fellow-oiti-
zens, I was about to write, erroneously) subjects, to the rate of.
ten cents on the flOO of all property! Thu.s, besides the other
~- *Const. or Ga.. Art viii. § 1.
m * *Const. Art. viii . S S: Pub. Sch Liiw.s of Ga.
;: •■31: Const Art viii.. § 4. Sch. Report of G:i . 1887. p. 1::.
* -School Law of Vu. codiffed." pp. 19. 2-3: Actof As.serQbl.v Jau 11. 1WT7. -School
Laws codilied. " p. -l'.
2T0 fREll SCHOOLS.
very considerable exactions which come ultimately from the
people, we have property taxed 30 cents on every |100. to edu-
cate the children of those who pay no tax, or nearly naue. This
is three-fourths of all the property tax the State of Virginia
used to require for all the ends of government, in the days of
her glory and greatness; and three-fifths of all that she now ex-
acts for all her other purposes, in these days of enormous and
reckless taxation and expenditure! But who are the "county
board" and the "district board?" The "district board" is one
of three "trustees" for the townships, appointed by the county
superintendent, county court {judge), and commonwealth'' s at-
torney! And who appoints the "county superintendent?" The
State school board nominally — Dr. Ruffner actually, according
to his own admission.** And the county judge? He is elected
for a term of years by the Legislature. And the common-
wealth's attorney? He is elected by the non-tax-paying voters
of his county; in my county, elected by pauper negroes. And
who is the "county school board?" These little office-holders,
thus appointed of the several townships, with the county super-
intendent again, constitute the "county school board." Thus
the power of taxing the people, the most important function
of soTereignty, is entrusted to persons with whose appoint-
ment the people can have nothing direct to do. This Is an out-
rage against the first principle of free government: that repre-
sentation must accompany taxation. True, this county board
is directed by law to report their proposed levies to the county
"board of supervisors." who are elected by the people, i. e., by
theuou-tax-payingvoters; in our couniy, b}' the pauper negroes.
But in this matter of the school levies, this board of supervi-
sors is. to the school board, only what a "/// de justice''' was to
Louis XIV. of France. It can hear, register and enforce their
majesties' edicts, and hound on the constable who sells the last
<:ow of the white widow of a Confederate soldier to play at
schooling the brats of negroes who are stealing out of the field
the poor little crop of corn she has tilled with the hands of her
fatherless boys. The law itself is so worded as constructively
to enjoin the supervisors to ordain whatever levies the school
board demands, provided it does not pass the maximum limit.*
* *Va. School Rep.. 1877. p 15. 'The work and responsibUity are thrown on him
by the other members of the Board
*See School Laws codified. §64. 4: 'It sftaZi ho thedtityoi said Board to levy,"
etc.
FRET? SCHOOLS. 271
Why this outrage on the principles of fi'ee government?
The nature of the UnderwDod Constitution is to make each
township a corporation for township purposes. PV/iy did not
the law allow the to7vnship corporation, like all other corpora-
tions in the land, to elect its own officers? \\\, the concocters
of the tyranny did not mean to alh)w tlie sacred principle, for
wliicli our fathers fought, to hold hore, for fear the citizens in
the townships should use their right of election to protect their
property frjm plnnder nnder the name of school tax! One
might have thought that they had sufficient guarantee of lav-
ish taxation, in the universal and the negro sutt'rage prevailing
in the townships, where the voters who pay no property tax
have the power of a majority, to vote away the property of the
minority who do pay. But this sweeping and ruthless power,
wicked as it is, was not enongh for the artificers of our system;
so, to make sure that property shall be absolntely helpless, un-
der the robbery designed, they also sundered representation
from taxation, and gave the taxing ])ower, in township and
county, to persons not elected by the tax payers. Our system
is worse than those of the Yankees, from whom our school men
seem so gi'eedy to borrow; for, while the major part of the
school money in the Yankee States usually comes from the lo-
cal taxes, the rights of townships and their citizens in assent-
ing to those taxes are more respected. The township there is a
little republic, and exercises the rights of one; onrs are in
names, corporations, but heljiless corpses in fact, under the
exactions of these officials with their foreign api)Dintments.
Once more; bad as the laws are, I have the personal evi-
dence, that these irresponsible exactors are capable of trans-
cending those laws. Tliey actually made me pay in Prince Ed-
ward county, for 1877, to the State ten cents on every $100 for
school purposes. To the connty and district jointly twenty
cents on every |100 of my real estate in Prince Edward, and
20 9-10 on every flOO of my personal property. I have the
, county treasurer's receipt for this lawless plunder (0 0-10 cents
per |100 more than the maximnm allowed by tlieir own tyran-
nical laws) in my desk. It may be satisfying to the curious to
know Inw mnch tax a conntryman i)ays who has no municipal
taxes and no muuici])al privileges. On my little mite of real
estate: To the State, countv and schools. 105 cents on every
2t2 ^tt.^^ sctiooJ.s.
$100 of value. On my personal projxM'ty to the i^tatc, coniiry
and school, 127 G-10 cents on every |100 of value, besides my
separate income tax. This is quite near enoiugh to confiscation,
esipecially on real estate which yields the owner just 0 />er cent.
annually. Of course there is no redress. Every well informed
person knows that this is just the kind of oppression which
John Hampton resisted in the famous case of the ship-money,
and which ultimately cost Charles I. his head. l>ut the despo-
tism in Virginia is S3 much more crushing than tliat of the
absolutist king, that any man who made a stand for his rights
here would be simply laughed at.
Xow, the point of my coimparison is, that Georgia is as
distinetlj' committed to the wrong system of universal State-
schools as Virginia is. Yet Georgia can set up that system
without trampling, in this way, on the rights of the people.
The Legislature of Georgia could at least avoid that self-evident
enormity, of enabling the non-tax-paying majority to vote away
the money of the paying minority withomt redress to the latter.
She did at least avoid the wickedness of so legislating, as that
the power of levying and disbursing property-taxes should be
placed in the hands of one class of the people who do not pay;
while the necessity of paying taxes is imposed on a distinct
class — those who own property. If this is not "class-legisla-
tion"— the essence of oligarch}- — I know not what is. Geor-
gia, knowing that, with universal white and negro suffrage,
the class who pay no property tax must always be in the ma-
jority, wisely refuses to levy any property tax for schools. The
only general tax she allows to be levied on her people for this
eommunistic purpose is a poll-tax, in which rich and poor pay
alike.
Now, if we must have the Yankee system, why cannot our
Legislature imitate the wisdom and moderation of Georgia?
Let all property-taxes. State and local, for school pui'poses, be
abolished. Let the poll-tax be dedicated to that use, with the
proviso, that the parent must at least pay the poll-tax, in or-
der to enter his children. And, if this would not make a sum
sufficiently splendid for our enthusiasts, let us imitate Georgia
again, and devote the liquor-tax to the schools. The Auditor
estimated that the Moffett law, properly applied, would yield
|G00,000. Is not that, added to the poll-tax and the income of
FliEE SCHOOLS. '>7'A
the literary fund, enough to glut the rapacious maw of the
Schaol Board? Give them this; and we shall at least iiave
the consoiation of knowing, that we are not plundered to sup-
port a mischievous system, unless we choose to commit the
folly of tippling.
The powers given these petty oflicials by our laws are also
tyrannical in the matter of school buildings and fixtures.* These
officers, practically irresponsible to the people, decide that any
building they please are needed, and the people are taxed, "will
they, nill they" to build them.* The county Superintendent is
armed with the power of condemning a building, already paid
for by the people's money, and disposing of it. He who does
not see here openings for corrupt robbery must be blind in-
deed, I know that officials may be found, who do not build or
alienate school-houses for jobbery, and who endeavor to con-
sult the poverty of their people. But the system is evil, in
that it gives the power to unscrupulous men; in that it applies
the temptation to human nature. And I know that abuses do
exist, showing cruel oppression of our burdened tax-payers. I
know of a school-house, needlessly built, against the advice
and protest of discreet tax-payers, in a township of honest
country people almost bankrupted already by taxes, occupied
by a pretended scliool one or two seasons, and since standing
empty, except as used, without authority, for a tobacco barn!
How immy hundreds of such cases exist? The people are so
tired out and crushed with oppressions, that they are too lan-
guid to protest; and such doings pass si/3 si/en/io.
But now. let us compare the cost of our schools, and those
of Georgia; a vital point when our State is hovt-ring over in-
solvency.t Georgia spends, in one year, |434,046.t Virginia
spends, for one year, |l,050,:U(i: ! ! ! Georgia is the undimin-
ished Emi)ire State of the South, wirh — of pop-
ulation, and millions of taxable property. Vir-
ginia is shorn of one-third the dimensions by dismemberment
and claims only millions of taxable values.
Again, § the total expense of working the system in Geor-
gia is 10,300.58. The expense of working our system is, || by
+School Laws codifled. ^ 40 44.
*School Laws codified. § 42 43.
+C4eorgia Scliool Rep. for 1H76. p. — . p. s. p. 8 afrain
i\ irginia School Rep for isr7. p. 7. pp. 5. 6.
?C4eorgi;i School Rep. for is;6. p. — , p. 8 p 8 apaiu
llVirginia School Rep. for 1877. p. 7. pp. 5. 6. •
274 FREK SCHOOLS.
the Supei-iiiteudem'.s uwu tigures, $170,887.78. This includes
aothing for building school-houses; all this immense sum goes
Jor salaries, fees and rents, etc. Is it an}' longer a surprise to
the people of Virginia, that rliere is an indecent and viciaus re-
sistance to all amendments, on the part of this well-pampered
crew? The number of children in Georgia (of both colors) be-
tween the ages of six and eighteen is reported^, -to be 394,0.37,
the number enrolled was 170,405, and the actual average num-
ber in the schools was 115,121. In Virginia (see reference
abDve) the number of both colors between five and twenty-one
A-ears, was said to be 482,789 (the difference of 88,752 in favor
of Virginia would be more than offset by the children between
tive and six. and 'between eighteen and twenty-one, not enu-
merated in Georgia I, and tlu' average actually taught last year
was 117,s4:5. That is to say: our Mrginia system teaches but
2.722 more children than the Georgian system, but costs our
distressed State nearly twice and a half as much money. Why
cannot our system be wrought as cheaply as the Georgian?
Look at the enormous salary-list on our plan:* Salary for State
Superintendent; salaries for his clerks; office expenses at the
seat of government; salaries for a cohort of county Superin-
tendents, at the tune of $300 for each of the first ten thousands
of souls in liis county, and |20 f.or each subsequent thousand;
so that a count}* of eighteen thousand souls pays for these few
duties a salary of |4G0: salaries to clerks of county boards and
district boards; salaries for Treasurers, per diems for district
trustees, salaries for the enumerators 'of children; so that, for
(.ypi-y ff^xix- dollars and fifty cents which reaches the teachers —
rile men wlio do all the real work — one dollar of the people's
nicncy is stopped on the way t) grease the palm of some blat-
ani advocate of the system, Avho teaches no child at all. But,
on the (leorgian plan, the county Superintendent receives no
pay but a small per diem for the days actually devoted to his
duties; and the county boards no pay at all, except exemption
from jury and road-services. Why cannot Virginians serve the
cause of education as cheaply as Georgians?
Again, the monthly cost of the Georgian child for school
^Georgia School Rep. for 1876. p— . p. 8. p 8 agrain.
*Va. School Rep. 1877, p. 7. School Laws codified. § 7:i p. 27, p. 11. Act of Assem-
bly, March 29. 1S77.
PR^-R SCHOOLS. 275
iiijj; is 84 1-3 cents. The monthly cast of the Virginia chihl is
|1.4(».
Or, let us take this view of the economy of our system.
The average pay of primary male teachers in Virginia is |33.10
per month; of female teachers, |27.37 per month. But private
parti(\s have no difticulty in employing young- ladies, of liberal
culture, who actually teach the higher English branches, Latin,
French and music at prices ranging from |12 to $15 per month
with board. p]very country housekeeper knows that the board
of a young lady in his family does not add |10 per month to his
actual expenses. So that iprivate parties can get ccmipetent
jjersons tio teach the higher branches for |22, when the State
gives 127.37 for teaching the plainest rudiments. Yet the boast
was that the State would do the work so much inore economi-
cally! There are accomplished ladits now in Virginia laboring
long hours in schools unendowed by the State, at |15() per year
without board. Negro fellows, on the other hand, who would
think themselves well paid at |8 iper month in the held, and
young negro women who would be satisfied with |5 per month
in the laundry, are paid |33 and |27 per mouth, while white
ladies are reduced to work for .f 12 or |15. No wonder the sys-
tem is popular with negroes and olhce-holders.
One other excellent feature o-f the Georgia law is secured
by the very Constitution of the State — Art. \iii. Sec. 5. "Noth-
ing contained in Sec. 1 of this Art. shall be construed to de-
prive schools in this State, not common schools, fpom participa-
tion in the educational funds of the State, as to all pupils there-
in, taught in the elementar}^ branches of an Engiisli educa-
tion."
The meaning of this provision is, that all schools created
and regulated by parents themselves, shall have the same title
to a share in the school fund to pay for instruction in the Eng-
lish rudiuu'uts with those created by the State, provided the
teachers of the former come under a few simple regulations en-
suring the useful performance of their duties. The vital ad-
vantage of this is, that the State of Georgia restricts and limits
that iuti-iision into and usurpation of parental rights and re-
sponsibilities within the narrowest limits permitted by her
conquerors, which our system studies to push to the most sweep-
ing and enormous extent. The State of Georgia recognizes the
right of parents to say where a school is needed, how it shall
276
FREE SCHOOLS.
be regulated. wId shall be its readier, what shall be its text-
books, what its moral or religious regimen. The State of Vir-
ginia does all that can be done to wrest these inalienable rights
and duties from rlie parents to whom God and nature have
given them, and vest them in three "school trustees." The State
of Georgia say.s tj parents: "Exercise your rights of choice,
and the Commonwealth will acquiesce and pay the portion of
the fund equitably due your families, to the teacher of your
choice." Tlie State of Mrginia virtually says: "I claim, like
pagan Sparta, to be parent of all children, and to usurij the
rights of natural parents in dictating by my iftlcials. where,
how, and by whom your children shall be educated; and if any
parent insist on his rights of doing his own natural duties to
his own ottspring, he shall be punished therefor, by having his
property taken from him to educate other people's children in
ways he did njt elect." There is the difference.
The experience of every practical man will teach him now
conducive this feature of the Georgia law is to flexibility, con-
venience and economy. The parents of a neighborhood create
a school; they are the best judges where it should be situated,
and who had best teach it; far they are actuated by disinterest-
ed love for the children, and sound common sense. They fur-
nish the house and the appliances. Hence, every dollar the
State contributes is apj^lied to the cost of actual instruction.
The plan has the tlexibility needed for a sparse population;
the wishes of parents, desiring higher tuitian for their chil-
dren, co-operate with the wishes of the State desiring primary
tuition for all; and public and private interests work together
for the mutual benefit of the property-class and the poor.
It may be claimed, that a similar thing is sometimes done
in Virginia. If it is, it is done informally, and outside the pro-
visions of our iron system. The instances speak well, not for
the system, but for the good sense and right feeling of some
of the officials.
Let us now proceed to compare our system with the for-
mer system bequeathed by our wise fathers. Before the war,
it was Tiiuch the fashion with the Utopians to bela'bor that .'sys-
tem with abuse, as inefficient and partial. But experience now
proves that the I'esults were every whit as complete and use-
ful as the I'esults of our present oppressive plan, while the old
FREE SCHOOLS. S77
one has the imsfijeakable advantages of economy and founda-
tion in right principles.
According to the report of William A. Moncure. Second
Auditor, the literary fund of Virginia accomplished in 1858
the following results: The number of schools assisted in Vir-
ginia was 3.84:7. The number of poor children sent to school
was 54,232. The average attendance of these children was not
quite twelve weeks, or three months of school time. The aver-
age annual cost of the tuition and ibooks of each child was
$2.96, or about $1 per month for the time actually spent in
study. And the total cost of the system to the State was only
f 160,530. The addition made for the expenses of administra-
tion seems to have been, in all, .f 18,04:7, if we rightly infer from
the Second Auditor's* figures. The whole expenses of the cen-
tral administration were but |2.750 (as against |5,810 in 1877),
and the only other salaried agent.s were the county superintend-
ents, who received, what one of them calls in his report, a "lit-
tle pittance." "School commissioners." in all the counties, per-
formed their duties gratuitously, and were prompt and proud
to do so from philanthropy and patriotism. IV/iy cannot this
be done now? The Reports from all the counties, while recog-
nizing defects, and admitting that the results were incomplete,
jet infonn the government of the general popularity and pro-
gressive utility of the system. But now, the general verdict
which comes up from disinterested and intelligent men in all
quarters is, that our present system is an expensive, mischiev-
ous and cruel sham.
Per contra, it claims, in the School Keport of 1877. to have
given, on an average, four and a half months' tuiti(m to 117.84:5
children, at an average monthly cost of |1.43 per month, and
at a total cost to the State of $1.050.:U<). While the cost of ad-
ministration of the old system was but |18,000, the expense of
working the new has been |170,8001 If we regarded the num-
ber of pupils alone, the old system did nearly hilf the tvork
(54.2.32 children then, 117,843 n vw) for less than one-fifth of the
rnoneyl Look at that! |178,577 then, against |1. 050,346 now.
Then Virginia was rich; now she is poor. The cost of adminis-
tration was then, absolutely, a little over one-tenth of what it
is no«-; and relatively to the numbers taught, about one-fourth
of the present.
278 FREE SCHOOLS.
An attempt will be made to break the terrible force of this
comparison of facts by reviyino; the complaints which our Uto-
pians used to utter against the incompleteness of our aid sys-
tem. The plea will be that, if the system was cheap, its fruits
were yery poor. We shall again hear the old complaints as
to the great irregularity in attendance, the listlessness of par-
ents and pupils, the scantiness of the letters actually gained,
etc., etc., etc. But the answer is: First, that this imperfection
of results, which was true of the old system, if it arg-ues any-
thing-, argues the folly of the States attempting t3 cure in the
popula- masses the disease of ignorance, indolence and apathy,
by ant such quantum of the arts of letters as the State can give
on any system. If the former results argue anything, they ar-
gue the just application to the whole subject of the maxim,
"One mar can take a horse to water, but a hundred cannot
make him drink"; they only show what we haye all along
urged — that to inspire aspiration, punctuality, industry, a con-
scientious use of ipriyileges and ac(]uirements, is what the State
has no means of doing, and without tliese, any appliances, or
any plan, are wasted.
, But second, the answer is. that >ur new system, with all
its tyranny and crushing expense, yields fruits just as imper-
fect. Were the children of the indigent then listless and irregu-
lar in attendance? They are so still? Was the tincture of let-
ters then giyen A'ery small? // is smalhr now. The old system
did not profess to deal with any but indigent white children.
Of these, the Commonwealth then contained about 97,000; and
of these, 54,232 were not only enrolled, but actually sent to
school. Our present system undertakes t(» provide for 482,789
ehildren and youths. Of these, it has not enrolled even more
than 205,000, and it only pretends to have taught, at all, 117,-
843. Talk of imperfect results! The old system was energy
and perfection compared with this! The old system had so far
overtaken its destined work as to give nearly three months'
schooling to more than half the whole mass of A'outh for which
it was designed; while the new system has not enrolled nearly
half of its appointed mass, and has not given any instruction to
three-fourths of its ai)pointed charge. Even as to the enrolled
youth, we have a betrayal of its inefficiency, and of the abound-
ing listlessness and irregularity of its beueticiaries. The pres-
FEEE SCHOOLS. 279
ent law makes the compeusation of the teachers depend on the
actual attendance, rather than the nu'mibers claimed on the
school-rolls. The law says that a teacher shall not be maintain-
ed, unless an actual average of sixteen daily is in attendance.
Now, it is ver}' well known among the teachers, that, unless
tliej^ have a roll of not less than thirty pupils, it is usually vain
to hope for an actual av(M-age attendance of sixteen. Wliat
does this mean? That on any average day, when sixteen are
in iplace long enough to be counted, fourteen are truant. That
tells the whole tale as to the wretched results of our present
organization. Dr. Ruffner's figures tell the same miserable
stor3\ Of all the youth of school age, only 24.4 per cent, attend
school on an average; and. of those enrolled, only 57 1-2 per
cent, attend. (In round numbers, 205,0(10 are enrolled; 11S,000
have attended. Now as 118,000 : 205,000 :: 57 1-2 : 100.)
Here, again, are the stubborn facts, showing that the old
Virginian system was as much more efficient as it was cheaper.
But we shall see our Utopians, with their usual candor, persist-
entlj' averting their eyes from the facts while they go on with
their baseless boasting. Why will our authorities, with this
clear light of experience before them, still prefer the bad sys-
tem to the good? If they do, the peo})le will understand why:
Because the system is worked for the advantage of the office
holder, and not of the State. That will be clear to the people's
common sense.
I have now shown our legislators two plans — the (ifeorgiau,
and the old plan of Virginia — both of which have been tried,
and either of which is immeasurably better than the one that
curses us. This system of our fathers had superiority in its
principles, as great as in its i)ractical \\'orkiugs. Of these, I
will, in concluding, present two. One was, that the State gov-
ernment left to ])areuts those powers and rights which are theirs
by tlu* laws of Ood and nature, and which cannot be usurped
by a. just, free government: those of directing the rearing of
tli.eir own children, and choosing its agents and methods. Clus'
ters of parents were left to create schools, to elect teachers, to
ordain the instruction and discipline. When tlie jiarents had
used their prerogatives, then the State came in as a modest ally
and assistant, and by providing for the teaching in those schools
of such children as their helpless fjoverty made proper wards
280 FEEE SCHOOLS.
of the State's charity, helped on the work of education, and sup-
plied that destitution which private charity did not reach. There
was a system conformed to the good old doctrine af our fath-
ers, that "governments are the servants of the people." But
the present plan proceeds on the doctrine of despots, that the
people are the servants of the government. Parents are bidden
to stand aside, and betray their rights and duties, while little
State officials usurp their powers of creating schools, electing
teachers, and ordaining methods.
The other was, that our wise fathers, by this simple plan,
resolved the otherwise insoluble difficulty about the religion of
the schools, which is now involving the friends of State educa-
tion in the North and in Europe, in inexplicable entanglements.
On the one hand, if the State is to act fairly and honestly up to
her pledge to sever herself from the Church, she cannot incul-
cate one religion to the exclusion of the others. On the other
hand, it is an Atheistic outrage on the Christians, who compose
the larger part of the citizens, to intrude between them and
their children, and then give them a godless, which, as we have
shown, must be an ungodly education. We have again and
again warned the advocates of the Yankee State theory, that
the entanglement was insoluble, and that the practical result
will surely be, that the attitude of our constitutions will en-
able the infidel party to triumph everywhere, to expel the Bi-
ble and Christianity from all the schools, and to rear us (so far
as State schools go) a generation of Atheists. This is to be
the practical issue of their misguided zeal — the issue \\hicli is,
in fact, ra'pidlv establishing itself in the Northwest to-day.
Now, all this difficulty was avoided by our fathers' plan. The
State, which knows no church in preference to another, did not
create schools; did not usurp that parental function; did not
elect the teachers; did not ordain their discipline or religious
character. Parents have the right to do all these things in the
lights of their own consciences and spiritual liberty, and the
parents made the schools. No other solution wall ever be found
that is as good. R. L. DABNEY.
LECTURE'
COMMENDATION OF THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY
It is now fashionable with many advocates of physical
science, to denounce this study as useless. The subject to-night
will be the inquiry, Is this so? Or is it still true, that "the
proper study of mankind is man?" Bur we must define what
we discuss. There is a tradition that the old Greek philosopher.
Pythagoras, when asked, -ooian/r h: replied ••'• ,'"''•, '^"oiar
Ae oi/JK. "Wisdom'' here meant, knowledge of the mental
principles which regulate all other knowledge. It was, I be-
lieve, H. Crabb. Robinson, who asked Goethe if he was read-
ing any philosophy; when he said: "No; I do not proipose at
this time, to do any thinking about thinking." This is a very
good definition of philosophic thought. Thinking how the
mind rightly thinks. It is usually regarded as including, 1.
Psychology, or the "natural history" of the human mind. 2.
Logic. 3. Ethics, or the principles of dusy 4. Ontology, or the
science of real existences. 5. Nat. Theology: The inquiry after
the P^rst Causes.
The grounds on which philosophy is usually disparaged are
these: First. That there can be no true science, except it be
founded throughout on a basis of facts. How do we ascertain
facts? Yiy actual observation. The instruments of observa-
tion are our senses. But mind and its processes are not obsei-
vable by our senses. Hence, second. There can be no true sci
ence, save of phenomena (changes in objects cognizable by our
senses) and their laivs. Third. The history of philosophy con-
firms this: they say. ii has never had any certainty. It settles
nothing, but keeps its doctrines in endless debate. Every new
age presents a new philosophy, which is built up only to be de-
molished by the next age; whereas physical science is settled;
it is "positive," it establishes its permanent laws, which thence-
1. Public Lecture. University of Texas. Dec. 1885. 281
282 LECTUEE.
forward abide to bless and help mankind with their applicn-
tians. A striking- instance of this charge is presented by Mr.
O. II. Lewes, who writes a ''History of Philosophy'' with the
purpose, as he says, of proving that there is no philosophy. This
strikes me very much as though a man should trouble himself
to write a biography of Wm. Tell, far the purpose of proving
there had never been any Tell! Mr. Lewes thinks philosophy a
Ininibug. Tile man wliu writes a whole history of a huml)ug
is in great danger of making his book a humbug 1
Men are arguing here, under this illusion, that it is tlie
bodily senses alone which give palpable, solid facts; beguiled
by that feature of jbtrusiveness and familiarity, which marks
our bodily sensations. Hence their baseless notion, that ail
doctrines about Mind, that intangible and invisible thing, are
but vague speculations af which there is no stable way to con-
vince othei men. But the science of mind is a science of ob-
servatian. and is based on facts, the most solid kind of bottom-
facts: The facts of consciousness. ''Ah," they reph'; ''of con-
sciousness! Another shadowy, abstraction among faculties!
Give us facts of eyesight!"' Ver\'well. Let us take the most
familiar and homely case. Your eyes, nose and palate, you
think authorize you solidly to say: "I see my breakfast." "
But in saying that, you have said, I, Ego, Self! And the ego.
the self, has been the subject of your proposition, the nomi-
tive to your verb ''see.'' So that to know your breakfast,
you must tirst have known yourself, as a Mind capable
of consciousness and thought, believing in its own
existence and identity, and furnishing from its own
inner powers the CDUception of space, position, and the
ather relations in which the breakfast is seen to exist. You
must have a knowledge of this Self in order to have a knowl-
edge of your breakfast. You can only believe in your break-
fast by means of believing in this self, this mind, and its laws,
which shows you the outer object. If your belief in your mind
is n3t solid, still les.s can the belief in your breakfast be. this
hangs on that. What a delusion then, to say that your break-
fast is a fact of observation, and yet. 1 its laws and jiowers. -
your 3 mind, are not! While shut up in this room, you could
fast is a fact of observation, and yet. (1) its laws and powers.
(2) your, (3) mind, are not! While shut up in this room, you
LECTURE. 283
could only see one of those trees, by looking through a window.
And the window is nearer to yoii than the tree. So that you
cannot know the tree as a fact of observation, ivithout having
first knomn the window as a fact of abservation. So, yon can never
reason, wirliout liavin;i\ beforehand, and in order ti> your rea-
soning, s:)me principle or axiom, 7vhich you reason by. Try it.
You reason, f;)r instance: "Men must t)e real free agents, be-
cause a just (jod liolds tlieni responsible." Kiglit. But your
mind saw this inference to be right, only because you were
guided by tliis prior, self-evident princi'ple that free agency is
necessary to my just responsibility. If your inference is solid,
the principle it hangs on must be more solid. But that is an
abstract principle in philosophy! And when you argue with
your fellow man, you know that y :>u can only convince him
of your inference, by means of that same first principle regulat-
ing his mind and thought, just as it does yours. If you did
nor think so, you would deem it just as seusible to argue Avith
your liDrse, as your neighbor. And so, all around, we find that
our ''facts" of sensation are only certain to our knowledge on
condition we believe in these inner ''facts"' of mind, the gen-
eral and, if you will, abstract principles of thought, which
regulate the action of all faculties, fvnn the olfactory, up to
conscience. You have had to philosophize, in spite of yourself,
in order to use your nose, your fingers, and your eyes and ears.
You may be in the condition of astonishment of Moliere's gen-
tilhoome bourgeois, 31. Jourdain, who, when his literary teach-
er showed him the distinction of i)rose and verse, was very
much surprised to find that he had been speaking prose all his
life! You have been obliged to proceed, in all your knowledge,
on this much abused philosophy, all along!
It may be well just here to illustrate farther the fact that
every man philosophizes, "will he, nill he," if he thinks. Here
is a plain carpenter, who on ^londay takes up the Initchet he
had sharpened and used Saturday. It proved itself of good
steel, temper and edge, then. Will it cut well this m )rning?
Assuredly it will, says the honest man. Bnt may it not \\\\\v
changed its nature since Saturday, althongh not meddled with
in any way? Is it obliged to be steel now, because it was steel
then; may it not now be of soft iron? or lead? "No!" he ex-
claims. "That's absurd!'' But why absurd, Mr. Carpenter?
284 LECTUEE.
Perhaps lie had not thought it out in full form; but now that
you press him to do so, he tells you: no change could have
been made in the metal without some cause; and that "he
knows by looking at it," i. e., by its sensible properties, that ir
is still steel. That is all very plain and simple; but this car-
penter has now pDsited three of the most profound general
truths of abstract philosophy: The necessary law of causa-
tion; the continuity and permanency of substantive being; and
the inseparable union of attributes to their substance. He
has been dealing in the depths of ontology I He has even de-
cided the philosophic axiom ou which the theological argu-
ment for and against the sacrament of the mass turns! Quite
a philosopher he!
A pump-maker brings you a new pump. He knows that
the piston, valves and air-tight joints are precisely like those
of other pumps in actual use. You ask, "Has this pump ever
been tried?" "No, sir."" "Then how do jdu know it will draw
any water?" "Oh, sir, it will be sure to draw. My other pumps
made like it, do." Here he posits another prime maxim of
philosophy: "Like causes are sure to produce like effects."
Messrs. Huxley, Comte, Tindal »& Co. abuse philosophy,
r.nd applaud science. I ask them, can a scienee be built up by
hypotheses alone? Oh, no! But why not? Why is inductive
demonstration necessary? The answer is iphilosophy: logic.
Does the frequent observation of a '-post hoc'' prove a 'prop,
ter hocf' Oh, no: that is not valid induction. Why not? The
answer, again, is philosophy: logic.
Xow, one may exclaim in surprise: How is it that we have
all been philoso'phers unconsciously^ and have spoken ill of the
philosoiphy we all nevertheless employ? The answer is, that
the fundamental laws of thought are self- executive. The kind
Creator has, fortunately for us, ordained them so that they
usually put themselves in operation and work aright, without
our adverting to them, or choosing how they are to work. Then,
you may ask: Is not the study of them as unnecessary as theii-
action is unavoidable? I reply: the case is much like that of
the muscles and tendons in a healthy boy's limbs. He does not
know their names, number, or position; but none the less kind
nature makes them obey liis will; and he makes as good a run
at football, as the best anatomist. The studv of :iu:itomv is
LKCTtTRfi. 385
then uselosis? No: suppose the time coiik's wlieii that boy has
to amputate your limb! Anatomy will be very desirable f^r
him then. And it will be a very g-ood thing for him now; to
teach him prudence in using that neat pair of legs of his, that
he may not strain them the wrong way — ^or put a force on them
they were not made for.
To the objection that pliilosophy is ever changing and un-
settled, and has established no fixed principles of science, I re-
ply by a denial. Philosophy has established a good many prin-
ciples,— such as those named above. The most discordant
schools teach them: the only difference between them has been
as to the methods of establishing them. There have been many
differing schools, rational, empeirical, ideal, pantheistic, spir-
itualistic, materialistic: from the Academy of Plato down to
the "Concord school'': from Pythagoras to Hegel. But there
have always been parts of })hilosoiphy, which have remained
fixed. Since Aristotle wrate his Analytics, no philosopher has
successfully disputed the main doctrine of the syllogism. With
the great mass of philosophers the natural theology of Zeno-
phon's Mem. has continued to this day, the true, natural the-
ology. Even in the most litigated branch of philosophic psych-
ology, the orthodox school have always taught a doctrine sub-
stantially orthodox, and the same doctrine: Augustine, Aquin-
as, Anselm in the middle ages. If Locke, after Hobbes, taught
a scheme conceding too much to sensation, Shaftesbury aud
Stillingheet in England, and Leibnitz in (xermany, refuted him,
and taught the correct scheme. ()\('r against Cordillac, the
sensationalist, stood Roger Collard. Against Hume stood Dr.
Thomas Keid: against the Mills, .James and J. S. stood Ham-
ilton.
Were w^e inclined to retort, we might ask, whether all the
parts of professed (physical science are stable and undisputed?
Are there no mutations and debates there? PJlven the science
of optics, newly created by Newton almost two centuries ago,
is still uncertain whether her undulatory theory is true or not.
Geology, though a science of the rocks, still Huctuates in many
places like an unsteady sea. Its British Corypheus, Sir Charles
Lyell, is said to have edited eleven editions of liis own master-
piece, his "Principles of Geology"; and in every edition to have
amended and contradicted something in the previous one. Men
^Se LECTURE.
diliei- by hundreds of thousands of yeni's about tlicii- ^hicuii
age. Its stratigraphy is in some parts conjectural. The sci-
ence of medicine, in many of its parts, is so uncertain and var-
iable, as to provoke tlie gibe, that the doctors change as much
in their fashions as the ladies do about their bonnets. In phil-
ology, two theories of the origin of language still contend for
the mastery. Astronomers are not yet certain whether the
nebular hypothesis is the true account of the origin of worlds,
or whether the new star in Andromeda has not exploded it into
a fiction even thinner than nebular ''star-dust." Chemistry still
has its doubts and its revolutions. Has it found out all the
simple substances? Or has it counted too many of them? Has
Ktpule convinced all the chemistsyetof his theory of insomor-
pliic compounds? These questions remind us, that uncertainty
and change are the traits of other sciences besides the phil-
osophic.
It is often asked, tauntingly, what practical results has
philosophy yielded for man? Look what physical science has
done to ameliorate man's existence, to improve his means of
subsistence, to palliate his diseases! It has taught mankind to
subjugate nature, to utilize the lightning, to bridge mighty
floods, to navigate the trackless oceans. Since the days of
Lord Bacon, and under his guidance, phj'sical science has al-
most made mankind a new race, in a new and better world.
But what practical results does philosophy show? We will
tell you anon, how she rendered an essential aid in all these
material exploits. But we wish, as we pass along, to expose
another large hallucination just here. First, education has two
results: one, the communication of knowledge of facts; the oth-
er, the cultivation of the faculties and moral character. Of
these, the latter is far the more valuable. Even on the lowest
utilitarian view, it is better to have that culture, which enables
the mind rapidly to gather the facts it may find useful, than
to have, toy borrowing, a set of facts without the ability to get
more. It is better to have a well built mill, which can grind
endless quantities of flour as needed, than to have numerous
barrels of flour, with no machinery to grind more wlien need-
ed. But farther: knowledge is valuable as a means: the man
himself is the end. Hence, the culture which ennobles and
makes the student more a man, bears most directly on the true
LECTURE. Oc^7
end. Uiu the stuily of pliilosoipliy, even if it left no kno\vle(l}:;('
of useful facts, would still be the most valuable; because it
conduces so ipowerfully to cultivate the soul, to sharpen the
discrimination, and train the reason.
The Germans very happily call the "practical" lu-anches, "the
bread and butter sciences." They win the material means of
living and luxury. This commercial age exalts them for that
reason; but under an illusion. No one will dispute this truth,
that these material luxuries are means, not ends. They are
not valued in themselves, as we value the friend we love, but
'because their consumption ministers to us some pleasure. The
epicure values his luxurious dish of fresh oysters, not as oyst-
ers^ — -as such they ferment and decay — ^but as representing so
many pulses of pleasure in his own consciousness, to be de-
rived from their consumption. All these things are only means
of happiness. Where is happiness: in the oysters, or in the
soul? And what is happiness? The beast would have a sim-
ple answer: In eating and lying down to chew the cud. But
he who would not degrade himself to a brute-level, must give
the higher answer of philosophj-: "Hapi)iness is virtuous en-
ergy-." Happiness is the right, harmonious and successful ex-
ercise of man's powers. And the higher the powers exercised,
the higher the happiness. The noibler mental activities, tlien,
are as much more valuable tlian material good, as the end is
more valuable than the means. Those activities, those studies
are happiness: the material goods are but means to happiness,
uncertain, partial means; and the sciences called practical,
if valued only for their ''bread and butter" results, only means
to those means.
As was mentioned, those wlio laud the plnsical sciences
as the onl}' studies worthy of pursuit, date their splendid career
from Bacon. It began, they say, by his teaching us how to in-
vestigate material nature. But I ask. was it a physical science
which taught that? By no means. It was ])liilosophyI Ba-
M'hich taught that? By no means. It vas philosophy. Bacon's
Novum. Organum is solely and purely a discussion of a meta-
physical subject: What is inductive proof? the highest and
most abstruse branch of logic. There is not a physical prob-
lem discussed or settled in the whole book, except one: ''Wliat
is the nature of calorie?" And that is introduced solely to
2SS liECtURj!.
iilii.sri'ate the application of the metaphysical principle to phy-
sical inquiiy. This, then, is an illustrious instance of the truth
that, while the physical sciences are the handmaids of man's
material welfare, they have to look to philosophy to show them
how to /proceed for this end. Take this parable. Let us sup-
pose that building houses was truly "the chief end of man," in-
stead of a mere means for his comfort. Then the carpenter
would ibe the true hero. And his tools would be Ms noble
weapons. But without the ^«// whetstont: these tools would
cease to cut and shape the lumber! It is then as essential as
any tool. Thus, philosophy may at least say, in the words of
Horace: Ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum Reddere quae femme valei
exsors ipsa secandi.
Nothing can more strongly illustrate the dependence of
all other spheres of thought on -philosophy for guidance than
this question touching the conditions of scientific belief. Will
you believe what you cannot understand? Should any amount
of evidence make a'ou do so? Sound physical science, like
sound philosophy, answers: Yes. Mystery, even when incom-
prehensible, is no sufficient evidence a statement may not be
true. There is no department of truths, not even the most fa-
miliar, that does not Include, or at least imply, incomprehensi-
ble propositions. Will 3-0U believe what contradicts a necessary
judgment of the mind, and fundamental law of thought? No.
There is no amount of evidence sufficient to make you do that.
For, 3^ou would argue, in doing that, you would so infringe the
very conditions of rational belief as to leave the mind incom-
petent for any act of judgment. I cannot surrender these neces-
sary laws of thought, in order to believe the statement which
contradicts them, for if I did I should thereby become incapa-
ble of valid thought, and so, of rational belief. My assent to
truth would be as valueless as that of the pig grunting his as-
sent to a mathematical theorem. The derationalized being can-
not believe.
But now, your assent to these tw^o questions has made It
most imperative for you to be prepared with an answer to an-
other question: Which are the fundamental laws of thought?
If the very condition of credibility of the statements offered
you, the very possibility of believing them, is conditioned on
their not contradicting those vital rules, you must be able to
Sdy li'/iu/i ihu^e tuies ate. But tliis question lakes yju iuiu ihe
very lieart of philosophy. To settle wliat are the truly funda-
mental and necessary laws of thought. To distinguish them
by sure traits from other judgments, which habit, imitation or
prejudice may have made us regard, though unwarrantably, as
very essential truths; this requires the most thorough explora-
tion of consciousness, and the most careful speculation. Is this
a necessary and fundamental judgement: That the same finite
thing cannot be at the same time in two places? Or this: That
a material substance cannot change while all its sensible prop-
erties continue the same? Or the logical laws of identity, con-
tradiction and excluded middle? Or, the law of causation: that
no new effect can arise without adequate cause, and that like
causes must always produce like effects? If these are neces-
sar}' principles of thought, you may reject any amount of pro-
fessed evidence for a contrary statement, assuring yourselves
that "there must be some mistake." If you confound some dic-
tate of habit or prejudice with the.se, you may be fighting
against the truth. And, in fact, the history of opinion is full
of just such confusions. And nothing but a very deep phil-
osophy can unravel them!
Once more: Sir Wm. Hamilton very justly asserts, that
philosophy is necessary — at least to all who do not believe the
Brble, to know whether there is a God. Certainly He is not
audible, visible, or tangible; so that the question cannot be set-
tled by observation with our senses. We see very clearly that
most of the tilings in this world are temporal and dependent
beings; as the plants, the trees, the animals, the humans. Go
back in time far enough and we reach the date when they were
not. We cannot think they created themselves. Is it then a
necessary law of thought, that we must reason back from the
dependent, to some independent I>eing; from the temporal to
the eternal? And if yes: Is this etenial Being self-existent?
Is he living; or as Mr. H. Spencer says: is it not a He, but an It,
an eternal, blind, physical force? Is He or It intelligent? Is
He a free agent? Has He a moral character, and is that char-
acter bad or good? All these are questions of philosophy! But
they are the most practical questions in the universe. Can there
be any prayer, or not? Is there any providence? Is there any
hereafter? Is my dead child annihilated? And will I be re-
290 LECTURE.
sponsible iu that hereafter for my conduct here? Can I enjo}^
any religious hope, or must I be an atheist, '"without God, and
without hope in the world?"
The disparagers of philosophy are fond of saying, that the
exact sciences give them solid f Doting on the earth; but phil-
osophy is a changing and fickle "cloudland." Let ns accept
the similitude for a moment. We are then reminded that it is
from this cloud-land the most beneficent, and the most destruc-
tive agencies descend, which bless or devastate the habitations
of men. From those shifting clouds falls the gentle rain, which
waters the earth and makes it bring forth ''bread for the eater
and seed for the sower." Thence also descends the tornado,
which wrecks the costliest works of man, and crushes him a
mangled worm under their fragments. Thence leaps down the
thunderbolt, wh'ich shivers his towers and scorches him with
instant death.
Philosophy is the cloud-land? So be it. This metaphor
then reminds us of the great practical truth: That it is opin-
ion, which really rules the world, for weal or woe. And these
governing opinions, which when popularized, become the mc:5t
practical guides of action, and the most tangible and concrete
blessings or cur-ses of mankind, have their source in the ab-
stract regions of philosophy. The thinker finds them there,
rightfully or wrongfully, and impelled by their logic becomes
their apostle, and in turn impels the reasons of the multitude
to deeds of heavenly beneficence or of relentless cruelty. You
have all heard of the religious persecutions of the middle ages.
Let me raise before you the picture of one scene, typical of a
thousand others as ghastly. It is about A. D. 1210. His holi-
ness, Innocent III., Pope of Rome, has proclaimed a crusade
against the peaceful Albigenses in the South of France, and
promised valuable ''indulgences" to all who will assist to de-
stroy them. The city of Bezieses in Languedoc is crowded
with these hapless people, who have at last stood at bay for
their lives, with their wives and children, intermingled with a
multitude of devout Roman Catholics. Seventy thousand souls
throng the beleaguered town; when breaches are made and the
fierce soldiery, inflamed almost to phrensy by the desperate re-
sistance, are ordered to enter and put every soul to the sword.
The Bishop Arnauld Amaieu, is there as representative of the
LEOTtfRE. 291
Pope, to guide and bless their efforts in rlie name of the ''Prince
cf Peace." Even the executioners asked, by what sig'u they
shoukl distin^uisli heretic from (>;.)0(\ ("atholic, so as to spare
the Latter. "Kill them all," cried his holiness. "The Lord will
know his own!'' And all: helpless babes, pious Catholics, as
well as dissenting Albigenses, perished in one remorseless
slaughter.
But these butchers sup})Osed that they were only acting out
their philosophy consistently. Is man responsible for his be-
liefs on moral subjects, or not? This is a question of moral
philosophy. If he is, then ought this wrong believer {mescreant)
to be punished for his error? Why not? It is wrong. It is a
responsible wrong. It is a most mischievous wrong. The here-
tic may do more hurt to human welfare, especially when the
eternal consequences of soul-destroying error are included,
than all the horse thieves, burglars, and freebooters in the
world. Why, then, should society hang the horse thieves, and
allow to the heretics immunity? Is it not unequal, unfair, un-
just? And since Rome teaches that her Poipes are the God-
appointed depositories of doctrinal infallibilit}', and guardians
of (xospel trutli, why should not the Pope direct the sword of
justice? And why should we not deem the stern severity of
the execution to be righteousness and not cruelty, as we do
when the sheritf executes the grim sentence of the law on the
felon, with almost infinite pity concealed in his heart, and yet
under the impulse of an i\^vi\\\duty ^ which leaves him no option?
Plant those propositions sincerely in the conviction of these
persecutors' minds; and their bloody acts are the consistent re-
sult. Now, we Americans are blindly and passionately attach-
ed to liberty of thought and denounce the wickedness of perse-
cution for opinion's sake. I propose to you to take that chain
of propositions which I stated, and show the flaw in their con-
nection. You find them apparently an iron chain. Where will
you break it? at which link? Only philosophy can show you
how to break it. If you reject her aid, you stand in an attitude
more amiable, indeed, than the persecutor; but in which your
amiability is a logical inconsistency.
Again: we have all heard the famous maxim: "All men
are by nature equal.''' There are two species of equality. There
is the equality of British freedom, whose watchword is: ''Ev-
292 LECTURE.
ery Englishman is equal before the law." It does not mean
that the peasant is equal to tlie peei- in the list of his particular
franchises — these are very dift'erent. But the peasant has the
same right to his narrower franchises as the peer has to his
wider. The same law protects both, on the same 'fundamental
principles of justice. The maxim, in this sense, does not assert
that nature has made men literally equal in strength, in sex,
in capacity of mind, in virtue, in fortitude, in health. Hence
it holds that a true and equitable equality must distribute dif-
ferent grades of franchise to these different beings, according
to their capacities to use them. It does not hold that the child
justly wields the same set of privileges as the father. It does
not believe that the woman has, for instance, the same "in-
alienable" right to sing 'bass and wear a beard with her hus-
band. Eut this maxim, after leaving Providence to distribute
to different classes of mankind the several allotments of privi-
lege they have capacity to improve aright, claims for the pro-
tection of all the common sanction of justice and the golden
rule.
Then, there is the equality of the Jaeobin: a very different
thing, which teaches that mechanical sameness of function,
franchise and privilege, in each detail, is a right; "inalienable,"
"natural" and "self-evident." That w'hatever particular fran-
chise is enjoyed by the highest citizen, must also be attainable
by the lowest; or these sacred intuitions are outraged. The
question between these is a question in philosophy: not a very
easy one, if we may judge 'by the frequency with which think-
ing men confuse the two together. Let us see what practical
fruits this confusion of two abstract theories has borne.
One crop of those fruits might have been seen in Paris a
century ago. "The Reign of Terror" was established. The
guillotine stood before the Thuilleries "<?« permavencey The
gutters ran daily with blood. The prisons, filled 'hy vile de-
lators with thousands of the noblest and best, were emptied by
the "Septembrigans," through wholesale massacre. To nave
belonged to a privileged class was the sufficient crime. To as-
sert the privilege of any class, in church or state, was treason.
This was the logical result of the philosophy.
We pass over to America in 1SG5, and we see the second
harvest of death from this same philosophy. If the Jaeobin
LECTURE. 5^93
equality is that which intuition teaches to be ''inalienable,"
then it was inconsistent that the Africans, thoujjh paj^ans,
aliens, lately savage, and utterly unfit to wield the higher fran-
chise of civic life without ruining society and themselves,
should be '"held to service or labor" under other citizens. It was
iniquity that they should be denied any franchise attainable
by any other citizen. As this was "self-evident," and the equal-
ity "inalienable," no constitutions, laws, or covenants could le-
gitimate the difference between African and American. But
they all became null and void in attempting to do so. Yea, God
himself was quite roundly notified, that he had better not le-
gitimate it, or he would be repudiated also! And when some
eight millions were unable to see this Jacobin logic so, a quar-
ter of a million of them were killed, tlunr homes desolated, and
half a continent clad in ruin I Thus practical is this science of
philosophy !
Are these portentous forces of the philosophic cloud-land,
then, reducible to no laws? If so. we must cower and tremble
before them, as our savage forefathers, twenty centuries ago,
did before the lightning and tempest. The conviction that their
causes are beyond our control, or even knowledge, must com-
bine with our experience of their mischiefs. Is this abject state
the best that physical science can promise to society? No. As
Matthew Maury reduced the laws of meteorology to a science,
hitherto only a riddle and a terror to mankind, so a modest phil-
osophy, pursuing the same humble, diligent method for ''the
investigation of nature," teaches to discriminate, to foretell, and
even to control the lightnings descending from the spiritual
world.
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE Ai\D THE
COMMUNE.
(Reproduced aud enlai-ged from the "Texas Review" of 1891.)
Labor Fnijns liave been very obtrnsive phenomena in these
latter jeara of the nineteenth century. In profession they are
voluntary societies of working men for protecting the "rights
of hibor.''
Were they only associations for protecting the lawful
rights of laborers, no more political objection could lie against
them than against (Iranger societies, social clubs, art unions, or
Christian churches themselves. But their real and main de-
sign is far other. Their avowed purpose and practice are:
First, to control the discipline which employers exercise over
individual laborers, members of the union; and second, to co-
erce the payment of higher wages by eniployers to the laborers.
Their weapon of coercion for both ends is, the strike. The la-
bor union has its council and executive head, elected by the la-
borers from among themselves, and its union-fund raised by
monthly or weekly contributions from their wages. Each mem-
ber is bound by strict vow to obey this council and clii(^f im-
plicitly. Here is the working of the machine. Among the la-
borers of a certain mine or factory is A. B. ''A union man''
whom his employers find unpunctual. insolent, incompetent
for his work, or drunken. The emjiloyers protect themselves
by paying him ott" and discharging him : the only possible mode
of self-protection left them under the hireling system of labor.
But now the chiefs of the union interfere. They say A. B. is un-
der the protection of "the union," therefore the employers shall
retain him and pay him full wages, although they believe he
does not suit them, does not earn half his wages and indeed is
doing serious and permanent injury to the credit of the firm
■Z9i
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRILE AND THE COMMUNE. 295
by "scampiug" liis work. If the employei-s decline to submit,
they are at once punished by a '^strike." Under the orders of
th-e union-chiefs every labarer is to leave his employment at
the concerted signal; every wheel in the factory is to be stop-
ped; all production is to be arrested, and the emjtloyers whole
investment reduced to a dead capital until such time as the
union chiefs may see fit for ending the strike.
Meantime the laborers and their families, after eating up
prior savings, draw a small pension from the "uui^n fnnd,"
which provides them a scanty subsistence until such time as
their punishment works submission in the hearts of their em-
ployers.
Or, if the issue between the union and the employers is the
rate of wages, a similar strike is relied on to coerce the latter
into paying such wages as the laborers think they should have.
Such is the the3ry of the strike.
The moral and economic objections are patent and trite.
The period of total idleness is often ruinous to the habits of
the men. The system establishes the state of chronic social
warfare between employers and employed, instead 3f that con-
dition of kindly co-operation, which is so essential to happiness
of feeling and prosperity in the bu.siness. The strike entails a
fearful destruction of wealth. All profit on the plant of the
employers is lost; while the savings of the laborers are eaten
up, in unproductive consumption, and their time, which is their
money, is wasted for naught. The community as a body is left
just so much the poorer.
Upon this loss follows another sure econ jmic result, which
deserves to be more fully explicated. The law is this : When-
ever any hindrance or constriction from any cause whatsoever,
is applied to production, the practical hardships thereof are
shifted over and delivered down 'by the better endowed mem-
bers of the community, until they press upon that class owning
no property except their labor, which forms the bottom stra-
tum. If we compare those hardships to a load or weight laid
upon the top of a wall, and the several strata of the commun-
ity to the horizontal lines of stones, we shall have an exact il-
lustration: the pressure of that load is ultimately delivered
down upon the bottom stratum. This result is insured by a
universal principle of human nature, the preference for one's
296 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.
own welfare and the welfare of those he loves, over that of
strangers. An individual instance will best prove this. We
will suppose the head of a family a stockholder in the manu-
factory which is undergoing a strike. He is not one whit more
selfish or less charitable than any other rich man, or laboring
man. The dividends on his stock constitute his family revenue.
By reason of the strike those dividends will drop this year
from $2,500 to .fl,800. He and his wife hold a council npon the
question. What is to be done? They are prudent people, who
do not wish to go in debt. What will they do? Just what all
other parents in the world would do, viz: They will so change
their expenditures as to live on the |1,800, while imposing up-
on themselves and the children they love the lightest possible
hardships of retrenchment and retaining as many of the solid
comforts of life as possible. Their retrenchments will work
after this fashion. Mother will say: "Husband, hitherto we
have indulged onr girls hx having their finer raiment made up
by a dressmaker. TIk^ girls must learn, with my help, to be
their own mantua-makcrs; they have leisure enough." Father
adds: ''Our eldest. Emily, is now quite proficient in her music.
Why can she not give the piano lessons to the younger girls,
so as to save the heavy cost of the music teacher?" ''Just so,"
says the mother: "And we can also dispense with one of the
maids; for the girls can very well do the sweeping and dusting
of the chambers; the exercise will be good for their health."
"And," adds the father, "there is our boy, Tom, who is now a
great, strapping fellow, passionately fond of horses. Why can-
not Tom groom and harness old Baldy before and after his
school hours, so we can dispense with a hired groom?"
So this family adjust themselves to the reduced income,
without any real loss of comfort, only, they have to be some-
what more busy and have less time for idling and loafing, which
is all the better for their health and cheerfulness, but, "How
does this retrenchment w' ork ? Upon the under stratum. " This
dressmaker, who thus loses the custDm of a large family is Miss
Bettie Jones, the daughter of a poor and sickly old widow,
whom she must support along with herself, by her needle. On
her this retrenchment presses as a real and probably a cruel
hardship, but who can blame this gentleman and his wife for
tlieir prnc^ent ;-i:d Iionest measures? Purely, it would be still
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 297
more cruel in them [3 coiiriiiue employing Betsy Jones' needle
and then fail to pay her. So the professional music- teacher
who loses three pupils (a fifth or fourth part of her income),
is Miss Lucy Hill, a poor but refined wonum, who has to sup-
port herself and a paralytic father by her music fees. The dis-
charged house-maid is Biddy Malou}-, the daughter of Mike
Malouy, and one of a family of eleven; and the father is the
discharged groom, who had earned one-third of the bread and
potatoes for his family by caring for old Baldy and his stable.
Biddy's wages are now gone and she comes back upon her fath-
er to be fed, while half of his means for t)uying food are gone.
Here are four deserving poor persons who are hit hard as a
consefjuence of this decline in the stockholder's income. But it
is the strikers who are really responsible for these cruel blows.
I have given a particular instance which is thoroughly ty-
pical. Other cases will vary endlessly in details; but the}' will
all work under the same principle. In every case where injury
or constriction is planned against the resources of the property
class the injury designed for them will be mainly evaded and
handed down, until it alights ujion the bottom class beneath
them. Here we have a biting illustration of the folly (a folly
equal to its dishonesty) of all the hostilities of "labor against
capital.'' Every blow which the working men are instigated to
aim at thtnr em])loyers must prove a Ixiomerang.
Next, we find this attempt tD coerce employers by strikes,
as futile as mischievous. The pretensions of tlie labor union
must appear to the employers unjust, usurping and even in-
solent: it surely provokes resistance. But in the contest thus
begun the employers have every advantage. The}' have more
means saved up ujjon which to live; the arrest of production
means for them only the retrenchments we have described
above; while for the laborers it means destitution and hunger.
So the employers hold out longest, and the union men have to
submit after all this b )otless loss.
But a stronger element of defeat appears. The labor union
does not include all the jtoor men of the vicinage. Many of
these need employment badly and are only {30 glad to accept
the wages and the employment which the union men have just
disdained ana rejected Thus after a few days' suspension the
wheels of the factory begin to revolve again with a new body
298 THE LABOR UNION", THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.
of laborers, while the uuion men find themselves left out iu the
cold permanently.
Thus the strike system has proved an utter futility, and
worse, unless the union men proceed tu further measures,
whii'h pass at once into criminality. These are always violent
and illegal atteni}»rs to prevent non-union men from accepting
employment, by insults, threats, blows, assaults, and even mur-
ders. The union resolves that their late employers shall not
exercise their reasonable and lawful rights to form such new
contracts of labor as they and the new employes see fit to ap-
prove; they decree that their fellow citizens, their lawful
equals, while not union men, shall not exercise the inalienable
right of every free human being to work for a living, and to
make such contract concerning employment and wages as is
satisfactory to himself. Thus the uniju men "picket" the gates
of the factory. They denounce the uew laborers as ''scabs," as
traitor's to the cause of the working-man. They make violent
threats. In extreme cases they proceed to violent assaults, to
murder, to arson, to assassination. Thus the labor union is
transmitted into a criminal consi)iracy. Every intelligent and
just mind views these ulteriar measures as most outrageous
wickedness and despotism wrought under the pretense of de-
fending the rights of the working men. Yet without these out-
rages their system effects nothing but direct injury to them-
selves, as to all concerned. Obviously, the concession to their
demands means the confiscation if the employers' property,
overthrow of law, tlie raising of an aristocracy of rights in the
union men as against their non-union equals and fellow citi-
zens, and the enthronement of the uuion in the room of the law
ful commonwealth, as an absolute commune.
The true lugic of the strike system is this: It is a forcible
attempt to invade and dominate the legitimate influence of the
universal economic law ;>f supply and demand. This law in-
structs us that generally the relation of supply to demand in
any commodity must regulate its price. Under this law all pro
duction must proceed in civilized society. It is under this law
the capitalist must produce and market the goods brought forth
by his mine or his factory. It is under this law the farmer and
planter must rear and sell their crops. Labor is also a com-
modity as truly as wheat, or cotton, or cloth. All though citizens
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 299
whose circumstances prevent the successful forniariou of hibor
unions must also contract to sell their labor under the domin-
ion of this same law of demand. If the supply otfered in the
market exceeds the demand, the price must go down : the gen-
eral law is inexorable: the producers of that commodity must
submit to receive less for what they have to sell, and so content
themselves with smaller profits; or they must find means t€
produce their commodity more cheaply. Particular circum-
stances may in some cases suspend the working of this law
partially and tem])orarily. But as a general law it is as preva-
lent and regular as the law of gravitation in jihysics. The ad-
vocates of labor unions do not pretend t:i deny — they expressly
avow — that the purpose and end of their system is to contra-
vene this law as to the commodity which they have to sell, that
is a particular form of labor. They perceive that the labor
union and tlie strike are expedients from which the great ma-
jority of their fellow citizens are utterly precluded by the na-
ture of their occupations, and that is the very reason why ike
nnionists value these (xpedients. They know }»erfectly, that if
all the other fojrms of labor in the commonwealth found it
equally feasible to protect their own occujiations from the law
of supply and demand by their own labor unions and strikes,
the whole .system would be nugatory. For instance, what the
spinners in a factory gained by forcing uj) their wages, would
be neutralized by what they would lose to the farmers when
they came to buy their food; if the farmers also could have a
labor union which would force up the price of their crops pro-
portionately and equitably.
From this point of view the thoughtful reader sees, that
labor unions are rather conspiracies against fellow citizens and
fellow laborers, than against oppressive employers. AYe ob-
serve that these societies thrive chiefly among operatives in
mines and factories, among classes of artisans in towns, among
printers, among the eniitloyes of railroad lines, or )f wliarves
or shipj»ing. This is because circumstances peculiar to their oc-
cupations render their measures feasible and convenient. Eith-
er they live in the same village or they can easily meet; there
is a uniformity in each industry; their compensation is imme-
diately in money- wages for labor. But let us observe how nu-
merous and vast classes of meritorious laborers are entirely
300 THE LABOR UNION. THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.
prevented from combining successfnllv to force their wages up
b}' strikes. The maid-servants and cooks of America, the hun-
dreds and thousands of schDol-ma'ams who teach the chihlren of
the country for i)auper wages, the millions of hired farm la-
borers, the more numerous millions of yeoman farmers who
till thciv little farm with their own hands, the still larger mil-
lions of toiling nnthers and housewives are precluded from
forming any effective labor unions by their dispersion over a
vast continent, their diversities of condition, their varieties of
products, and indirect mode in which they receive their final
compensation; nudes involved in commercial complications
where the law of supply and demand must inevitably rule. Here
appear at once the real purpose and the iniquity of our exist-
ing system of labor unions. C. D. is a weaver in a cloth factory.
Mj-. E. F. is an honest farmer who must buy a good deal of this
cloth to clothe his family and himself. One element of the cost
of the cloth to E. F. is the wage of C. D., the weaver; but C. D.
has resolved that E. F., his fellow citizen and equal, shall not
buy that element in the value of the cloth at that equitable
rate which should be generally dictated by the law of supply
and demand: C. D. will force up that price against that farmer
by the artificial forces of his monopoly-ring, his threats and his
strikes. But (\ D. fully expects ta buy the bread and meat for
his family from tlu^ farmer, E. F., under the strict operation of
supply and deuiand. There is equity and democratic equality
with a vengeance! But should any law or labor union enable
the farmer to enhance the price of his food-products above mar-
ket rates as determined by supi)ly and demand, C. D. would de-
clare himself much outraged. His labor union is a good rule
for him: but it must not "work both ways."
I have now brought the reader to a point of view from
which the justice of three practical remarks will be self-evi-
dent. When labor unionists denounce the great "trusts" of the
capitalists, the oil, or sugar trust, as monopolies, *'e have a
curious instance of inconsistency and insolence. What are their
societies but labor-monopolies? In every essential feature they
are the iniquities which the trusts are, only upon a smaller
scale. And when political demagogues adopt the cause of these
labor unions, to cater for their votes, under the pretense of de-
mocracy, they are doing the most anti-democratic thing possi-
THE liAfiOR UNION, T&E STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 8ul
ble. Their cry is: "For tlie masses against (lie classes!" Vei
thej are assisting- a narrow class to i)lnnder the masses of their
fellow citizens.
The second thing to be noted is, the gronndless and impu-
dent claim of these labor unions that they are contending for
the "rights of American labor." This tacitly assumes that the
small minority of persons who belong to labor unions are the
only people in America who labor. I may digress for a mo-
ment to add, that the same insolent falsehood is obtruded
whenever the tariff system claims to be protective of American
la'bor: as though, forsooth, the factory hands working upon pro-
tected manufactures were the only people who perform deserv-
ing labor! Whereas it has been perfectly proved a hundred
times that this class of laboring men are but a few hundreds
of thousands among the millions who labor in America; that
they were already better paid than the average of their breth-
ren; and that this "protection'' is but a legalized method to en-
able them to take something from the unprotected earnings of
their fellow citizens without value received, and to add it to
their own. To return: there are a few hundreds of thousands
of labor unionists in the United States. The census of 1890
shows that at most there may be four millions of persons en-
gaged in occupations whose conditions render a labor union
possible, but there are seven and a half millions engaged in
the heavier labor of agriculture, under hotter suns and freezing
winds, to whom the arts of the labor union are impossible.
They must produce and sell their crops under the inexorable
operation of the law of supply and demand. And if over sup-
ply or partial legislation reduces the price of their products
below the cost of production, these millions must simply en-
dure it. Methinks if there could be any honest labor union to
"protect the rights of American labor," it should be one wdiich
would lift the wages of these tillers of the soil nearer the level
enjoyed by the unionists.
The average American yeoman earns about fifty cents per
diem with coarse fare by his heavy roil, if we deduct from the
price of his farm products a moderate interest upon the capital
which he employs, and all the other elements of the cost of pro-
duction, except th(^ manual laboi'. In the neighboring town,
the unionist bricklayer or ])lasierer scorns to lift his trowel for
802 THE LABOR TTNIOW, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMFNfi.
less than five dollars per da}'. There are a thousand farm la
borers to one bricklayer. Yet this one tells us that his con
spirac}^ is for the protection of labor! And what shall we say
of the myriads of rural artisans who cannot form labor unions;
of the hundreds of thousands of poor teachers and school-
ma'ams whose wages are twenty-five dollars per month with-
out boarding, for four or five months of the year? And what
of the twelve millions of mothers and housewives who labor
for their food and clothing in the most wearying of all tasks,
year in and year out, not under an eight hour rule, you may be
sure I but somewhere between twelve and eighteen and even
twenty hours out of the twenty-four? Are all these not labor-
ers because they cannot be "knights of labor?" Yet the direct
effect of the arts of the labor unions is: to raise the price of
every roof which shelters, of every chimney and every pound
of coal which warms, and of every yard of cloth which covers
these worse paid laborers in favor of a small minority already
overpaid in comparison.
I am not oblivious of the plea that skilled labor is entitled
to higher remuneration. The assumption is that all the forms
of labor of the unions are skilled labor; while the toils of these
ill-paid masses are unskilled labor. This is exactly false. For
instance the effective farm laborer is far more a skilled work-
man than the bricklayer. The latter has one dexterity which is
quite admirable: he strews a handful of mortar from his trowel
more quickly, and he presses down brick after briclc with its
face to the line, more deftly than the plowman could. Very
true. But that plowman must be atole to do with equal deft-
ness a dozen dilferent things neither of which the bricklayer can
do, and in attempting several of which he would be likely to
wound himself or break his own neck. This farm laborer must
be a horse breaker, must know how to guide the plow, to wield
the hoe so as to "cut away the spire of crab grass" within half
an inch of the tender cotton stalk without scratching it. He
must wield the ax, he must be a rough carpenter ; he must be
butcher, knowing how to dress a mutton or a swine; he must
milk the cow; he must mount the dangerous mowing machine
and guide it; he must manage the complicated threshing ma-
chine and gin; he must pick two hundred and fifty pounds of
seed cotton per day, where the bricklayer could not get one
TflE LABOR UNtoN, THE STRtKE AND THE COMMUMR. 'SOS
hundred. Ir is the farmer wlio is the skilled laborer, and by
that principle otight to receive the higher remuneration.
The third point being noted is, the fatuity of the so-called
People's party in associating themselves with the labor union?
in their present passionate efforts to right the wrongs of the
farmers. They are precisely as wise as would be the shepherd
dogs who should insist upon enlisting the wolves along with
themselves to guard the flock. The interests of the Granger
masses and of the labor unionists are directly liostile. For in-
stance, here is the yoeman farmer who is toiling to pay off a
mortgage on his homestead at a real wage of about fift^- cents
per day (deducting fair compensation for the employment of
his capital, teams, implements, etc.) Does he need a cottage,
a chimney in it, a farm wagon, a thresher, a mower, a buggy
plow, a rotary harrow?
The labor union men are compelling him to pay much high-
er prices for each of these things, by their conspiracies. For,
of course, all these contractors and manufacturers add in the
inflated prices of the unionist labor, in addition to their own
lU'ofits. upon the cost of every thing they furnish the farmer.
But these unionists are drawing from two and a half to five
dollars per day for their work, while the farmer gets an half
dollar per day for his work. He must sell everything his farm
])roduces (the source out of which he at last gets his scanty
earnings) under the resistless law of supply and demand, while
they are so juggling with the arts of their conspiracy as to free
themselves from that law. Yet we shall find this fatuous
Granger enraged against the loan corporation which lent him
good money on his own terms, at his earnest entreaty, and fra-
ternizing with the knights of laTior who are covertly skinning
him!
The principles of the labor unions is virtual Communism.
It is instructive to watch the proofs of this truth presented by
the development of the union system in Great Britain. The
British Libei-als in 1845, represented by Josei»h IIuuu' ami the
famous Free Trade Society, announced the laissez nous Jaire
free trade in commodities, and free trade in labor, as tlie very
gospel of economics and politics. The first half of the doctrine
repealed the protective tariff' of Britain and placed her manu-
factures and commerce upon that enlightened basis of thorough
^(H THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE ANt) THE COMMUNJ!.
tree trade, wliicli founded the new era of marvelous progress
and prosperity. The second half of the doctrine embodied the
essence of the Exeter Hall at anti-slavery. Free trade in labor
meant for Joseph Hume and his friends that every laborer
should be a free man with the right to make his own contracts
of labor to suit himself; but to make them, like the farmer, the
manufacturer and the merchant, under the common regulation
of the law of supply and demand. Obviousljs equity demands
that if the principle of free trade is to govern other commodi-
ties it must also govern labor. For labor is as truly a com-
modity to be bought and sold, as cloth, or wheat, or iron, or
sugar. To enforce the production and sale of all the latter un-
der the free law of supply and demand, while the other com-
modity, labor, is fenced against that law, is obvious chiss
legislation and injustice to others. Hence, the Anti-Corn Law
League hated tariffs and domestic slavery with a hatred equally
intense and holy. It is true, that under this free trade regime
the property and capital of I^ritain have made an enormous
spring and dou'bled themselves in one generation. It is also
true that under the same benignant regimen the labor of the
proletariat gained greatly in its remuneration, and the comfort
of its condition. Measured in gold, the average of their wages
has advanced twenty per cent, since 1845; whilst the purchas-
ing power of this increasing wage has been doubled by the re-
sults of free trade in commodities and in labor.
But these happy consequences do not at all satisfy the la-
boring men of Britain or the advanced Liberals. The former
have generally adopted, with passion, the system of labor unions
and strikes; the latter have pushed their theories through so-
cialism to the verge of communism. Both the laborers and their
theorists now reject with heat the dogma of free trade in labor.
They declare that it is tyrannical, cruel, and the direct road to a
wage slavery as degrading and detestable as African slavery it-
self. They assert the inherent right of the labor unions to en-
force their demands for higher wages by violence if necessary,
notwithstanding the facts, that this enforcement is a virtual
confiscation of the personal property of the employers at the
will of others, in the form of this increment of wage, that it is
an infringement of the right of non-union men, their own free
equals, to work lor such terms as suit themselves; and that the
tHE LABOR UNION, THE STRTKK AND THE COMMUME. 305
system organized a rebellious impirium in imptrio civiiaiis,
iisurping a part of its functions and forces. The snciali.=!r.s ar-
gue that since their strikes are futilities unless employers and
non-union men can be prohibited by force from contracting
with each other, these "scabs," thus accepting the places which
the union men have rejected, make themselves the enemies of
labor, and are therefore the proper objects of hostility and co-
ercion. They say there is this essential difference between free
trade in commodities (which they admit is all very well) and
free trade in labor: that the goods bought and sold under free
trade are n9n-sentient and feel no pangs of destitution; but the
laborers have muscles and nerves to be worn by overwork, and
stomachs to be pinched by hunger, and hearts to be wrung by
the poverty of their families: therefore, the laborers ought
to be entitled to protect their commodity, labor, against these
consequences of free trade. This is, of course, a very shallow
sophism, since the goods subjected to the rigorous law of sup-
ply and demand are imbued with the element of labor, since
their sale is the only medium through which the labor involved
in them can get its wage and thus the price of the goods touches
the welfare of the laborers who produce them, just as effec-
tively as the price of the labor itself. The socialists then adopt
in substance, though perhaps not avowedly, the Malthusian
principle of the pressure of population upon the means of sub-
sistence. They argue thus; let the capitalists enjoy free trade
in labor, hiring their operatives at whatever price the relation
of supply and demand may dictate; then as the proletariat in-
creases in numbers, wages will go down until they reach the
lowest level of that wretched subsistence which enables the la-
borers only to exist, to be miserable, and to propagate heirs to
their misery. Tlieir cry now is, "Down with free trade in labor;
up with the labor union, the strike, and the forcible coercion of
the scab, the traitorous enemy of his class." Let the student
see for instance this drift in the recent work of ^Mr. Benjamin
Kid, entitled, "Social Evolution."
In this new phase and deduction of Malthusianism, there is
unquestionable truth. It has been verified a hundred times in
the depression, in the deficient compensation and misery of free
laborers, in hireling commonwealths. Another admission must
be made. No existing commonwealth organized exclusively
806 THE LABOE UNION, THE STKIKE AND THE COMMUNE.
upon the hireling labor rlien'v has vet found a full remedy for
this de'plora'ble tendency, no matter how liberal or even demo-
cratic its constitution. Sentimentalists may kick against a
great Malthusian law, may call it anti<iuated, and maN' vilipend
it; but noiu' tlic less it remains a true and fundamental law of
population. No permanent release from its inexorable opera-
tion is found in any economic or political expedient. When the
means of subsistence increase in any society, population alwaj's
tends to increase ^up to the new level. Then, if that new level
of subsistence be not farther raised, population will proceed to
press upDu it and overpass it. The proletariat will accustom it-
.self first to part witli its luxuries, and then to submit to a scan-
tier supply of comftrts; and as long as their earnings are suffi-
cient to support existence, this laboring class will continue to
obey nature's instinct to increase and multiply. It is true that
since the davs of the Anti-Corn Law League, the wages and the
comforts of the proletariat in Britain have increased handsome-
ly under free trade. But the advanced Socialists insist that this
improvement will stop, and will then ebb, as soon as certain oth-
er foreign and temporar}- agencies cease to operate. These are
the wonderful expansion of British commerce (which yet cannot
expand forever); the opening to tillage of new and vast food pro-
ducing areas outside of Britain; the amazing improvements in
both land and ocean transportation; the wide openings for emi-
gration; the marvelous new applications of physical science lo
production; the unbroken prevalence of maritime peace over
the whole area of British commerce. Behold how under these
new and temporary agencies, the proletariat population of
Britain has sprung forward, with an increase rivaling the musii-
room growth of new American democracies, thus giving us an-
other startling evidence of the truth of the Malthusian law.
lUit all earthly expansions must stop somewhere. A colt may
grow wonderfully when placed in a rich, fresh pasture; but af-
ter five years of age he must stop growing, no matter what his
pasture. All earthly advancements must reach their limits.
And the Socialists assert that when Britain reaches her limit
the Malthusian principle combined with free trade in labor
will at once ibegin to depress the laboring classes of Britain.
And this must go on until they become miserable wage slaves
THE LABOR tJNION, THK STHTKE AND THE COMMUNE. 307
agaiu, like the peasantry of France and Southern Europe be-
fore the Revolution; of the Ireland of 1840,
It is not net-essary for me to say whether the wlnle of this
socialist argument will prove eorreot. My purpose is to point
the reader to the violent inconsistency- into which it betrays
them. They have ever been and still declare themselves the
passionate enemies of domestic bondage. X:i language has
been adequate to express their scorn and hatred for the recent
social systm of the Southern I'nited States. No class of ac-
cusers have done more by false accusations, slanders, and vilifi-
cation to bring upDU that fair region an undeserved and re-
morseless deluge of revolution, war, devastation and tyranny,
than these advanced socialists. But now, lol we find them with
equal passion asserting a doctrine which leads directly back to
a form of slavery far more ruthless than domestic bondage
Every man of sense knows that when he is forbidden by force
to work where he chooses, and for the wage which suits himself,
even in a lawful occupatiou, is no longer a free man: he is a
slave. The pawer which commands me where I shall not work
is the same with the "slave-power" which commands another
where he shall work. Again, when the labor union has forbid-
den me, a non-union man, to do the lawful work whicli suits me
for the support of my family, I ask them: "To wh^m then
must I look for the subsistence Of those I love?" Their answer
is: ''Join the union, and draw your weekly pension from the
community fund, which will be issued to yau so long as it lasts,
and you implicitly obey." Here again I am enslaved; far worse
enslaved than the African bondman of the Sauth; for while
the labor union may issue to me, for a time, a pittance which
may i)revent starvation out of a scanty fund created only by a
tribute taken ^m of my own previous wages, the Southern
bondman drew all the time his full subsistence, whether the
business of the commune was profitable or not. And to the
giving of tliis livelihood the head of the commune was bound,
if not by his own humanity, by public opinion, by statute-law,
and by a self-interest m^re imperious than either. And to fur-
nish this undiminished livelihood there was bound, not a scanty
fund gathered by exactions from the laborers' wages, but the
whole'^capital and profits of the head of that commune, includ-
ing the returns of his own personal industry. But this is only
308 THE LABOR U.XION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.
half the story. If the hib )i- union, that is, the commune, is to
have full authority to forbid its members to work, then it must
make itself responsible for the full subsistence of the laborers
and their families. But if the commune is responsible for this,
it must have authority to command the members where they
shall work and t3 enforce that command. Without this power
the commune could nat possibly fulfill its pledges to furnish
subsistence to its subjects. But the essence of slavery is the
oblioation of compulsory labor, and the dependence upon the
will of another far subsistence. Communism is slavery. Its
advocates cheat themselves by explaining: "But the member-,
elect their own rulers, and this is liberty." A very hollow cheat
this, indeed I Let communism be established as a rule of a com-
monwealth, and this will be the real state of the case. In name
the majority will elect masters over themselves, and the unwill
ing minority. But Democracy and universal suffrage have
taught us too well wliat that means. Nominally the majority
was really the official wire-pullers, will determine the choice of
the masters over both majority and minority. vShould this re-
sult not follow and should the communistic elections fulfill most
honestly the most flattering promises of the system, still we •
should have this result: that the minority would be slaves to the
majority. And the major mob is always the most ruthless of
masters. Let us again make the vital point in this discussion
thoroughly salient. The ultra socialist will attempt to obscure
it by saying that in the best constituted republic the minority
has to obey the majority; and this is not slavery for anybody,
but liberty for all. I reply, that herein are two profound false-
hoods. The first, that in a true rei»ublie the minority do not
obey the majority, l^uf both obey the constitution. The princi-
ple of such government is given by the sublime words of An-
drew Melville /)^:v Rex: The citizen does not owe his allegiance
to the mere will of the accidentally major mob, but to the sacred
authority of the constitution wliicli rules the State. The power
which this constitution may have conferred upon a majority is
only conventional, deputed and limited. The clearest majority
may only exercise that power within the limits prescribed for
it by the constitution, and when it exceeds these limits, the
will of the majority is no more the righteous rule for the citizen
than the howling wind. But the second and more essential
THE LABOR UNION, THK STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 809
falsehood is here: The true republic does not legislate at all
concerning the personal rights, the preferred occupations, the
compensations therefor, or the subsistence of their families.
All these matters belong to their individual sovereignty as citi-
zens. The repu'blic only attempts to regulate those outer rela-
tions of citizen to citizen, which render them social beings, un-
der the princii)les of commutative justice. But the commune
undertakes in addition to command me at what to work, to en-
force its command, to fix my recompense, and to appoint the
subsistence allotted to me and my family. This invades the
whole sphere of my personal sovereignty. It is the essence of
slavery. Moreover, all history teaches us, that the more '*Pa-
ternalistic'' any government becomes, be its form either imper-
ial, monarchical, aristocratic or democratic, the more will its
officials engross the powers of the State, and the earnings of
the citizens to themselves. (The experience is universal), either
by avowed class legislation or by unavowed chicanery, they al-
ways do it. The cause of this result is plain. The more pater-
nalistic the government, the more of the aggregate wealth, ser-
vices and rights of its citizens does it handle. That is to say,
the more of these do the officials of this government handle.
I?ut such masses of wealth and power present to the natural
greed of men temptations too strong- to be Resisted. Now of all
governments the commune is most completely paternalistic.
Therefore the officials of the commune, by which we mean the
all-including' commune of the local communes, the coaumon-
wealth, will have the handling of all the earnings, wealth, ser-
vices, and subsistence of all the citizens. Therefore the en-
grossment of all these by the officials will be the most enoi-
mous. For instance, the townshi}) institutions of the Russians
are communistic. The imperial government is an absolute
commune. But the P]mperor Nicholas himself, the most auto-
cratic of Czars, declared that official peculation and tyranny
were more gigantic in Russia than anywhere in Europe. Thus
it appears that communism must be essential slavery, under
which the citizens are the slaves, and the master is impersonal
and therefore the most remorseless and greedy of all masters.
Now of all the things in the nineteenth century, Southern
bondage was the one, which the advanced socialists most hotly
abused. They condemned the Southern plantation as the sum
310 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE-
of all villaiuies. But this plantatiou was virtually the very
commune which they desired to establish, except that the
Southern had certain saving differences, which made it l)etter
than their proposed form. The capital of the i)lanrati()n and
the earnings and services of all upjn it composed the common
fund. The labor of the members was compulsory. But the
common fund was bound to them for the subsistence of them
and their families, fully as comfortable as that provided b^-
the United States for their enlisted soldiers, including housing,
fuel, clothing, food, medical attendance, rearing for their minor
children and the pensioning of the old, w^hen past active service.
The net earnings of the active members, after subtracting the
cost of their own subsistence, and a small interest upon the
capital furnished them, went into the common fund, to meet
the last two drafts. Here was a small but true commune. The
head of the commune was not elected by the slave-members:,-
but was hereditary; and this was a great gain, saving all con-
cern upon the waste of time, money and morals, which al-
ways attends pretended elections in a paternalistic democracy.
But the grand, saving feature in this Southern commune was
that one which our socialist most abhors; the legal establishing
in the head of the commune of a right of property in the in-
voluntary labor of the members. Our opponents exclaim that
this is the essence of slavery! I reply this is very true; 'but I
have shown that their plan must vest in the commune itself
(that is in its oflQceholders) the power of control over the in-
voluntary labor of the members, and tlie disposal of their earn-
ings, else the society must speedily Ite banki-upt, and starve its
dependents. But this is giving the (•()niinun(\ tiiat is the oflQce-
holders, property in this involuntary labor, except in this all
important respect: that it failed to enlist any domestic feeling,
or any self-interest of the heads in tlu^ welfare of members. In
such an association what need the otticeholders care if a labor-
ing member dies, or if the infants of his family perish of destitu-
tion, he loses no property! He has just so many the fewer cares
to worry him. For instance, when the crews of the patriot
British fleet which conquered the Invincible Armada at Grave-
lines were decimated by the spoiled beer, which their commis-
spries furnished, what did these care? Their private profits
upon their beer contracts v/ere safe in their pockets. If many
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUME. 3il
soldiers of General CliuiL'liill, Duke of Marlborough, died iu the
hospitals, this was but so much to his advantage, for he oouldl
continue their names upon tlie pay rolls of the army, and (juiet-
ly pocket their wages and allowances. The greater the suffer-
ing and mortality, the more his riches grew. When British
paupers died in the work-house, under the late poor law sys-
tem, who cared; what official, what tax-payer? The United
States had a brief experience in this line, under its notorious
Freedman's Bureau. We presume that when these wards of
the nation dropped off, the average officeholder felt no emotion
but relief. So now, when a hireling sickens or dies, his em-
ployer has lost nothing: he has but to hire another in his place.
But our Southern communism, by making the labor the master's
property, awoke an all-powerful motive for taking the best
care of it.
If the laborer died, from over-work or destitution, so much
of the master's property was totally lost; if he sickened, its val-
ue was impaired. Hence, the statute law, which recjuired a
master to provide reasonable subsistence under all conditions
of production however profitless, for his bondmen, their aged
and their oflt'spring, and which made this provision a first lien,
not only upon the annual products of the estate, 'but upon its
fee simple value, and even upon his personal earnings in his
separate profession, was an enforceable law; and it was always
enforced, if not by affection and self-respect, by all-powerful
self-interest. It was not like the rules of ultra-democratic so-
cieties, which speciously reciuiring all officers to use their pow-
ers for the public g )t)d alone, so commonly remain a dead let-
ter. Hence, while a few masters were tyrannical and stingy,
the bondmen in general had better food, clothing, housing, fuel,
medical attendance, than any other peasanti-y in the world.
While the employer of hireling labor pushing forward his rail-
road, his canal, his malarial farm, his mine, his chemical works,
cares not whether the laborers lose wealth or life or not, the
Southern master, in hiring his bondman to another, alway;s
made a part of the contract that he should not be employed in
any unhealthy occupation.
The late Southern form of communism was therefore the
only one defensible. The theory, combined with the other dog-
mas of the socialists, outrages every fundamental principle of
312 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.
Liuman nature and of human actions. It appeals to tlie preva-
lent principle of self-interest precisely' in the wrang place,
stimulating it powerfully in the officeholder's selfishness, neg-
lect and malversation; while it loses its impulse in the work
of production for the general behoof. This communism ignores
man s desire for personal possessions, his right ta an individual
home, blest according to his own choice in the use of those pos-
sessions, his zeal for the welfare of his children, his right to
bequeath to them the proceeds of his own labor. No system
can endure, which thus discards the fundamental laws of na-
ture. A structure built without a foundation must tumble. IJut
tlie folly of ideologues and demagogues may persuade some
discontented and misguided commonwealth to attempt the gen-
eral commune. But it is impossible the attempt slnuld conf-
tinue. Its only permanent result will be destruction, or enor-
mous mischief to the material civilization, morals and liai)pi-
ness of the society. The people disgusted with the experiment,
will speedily struggle back to some political order, less insane;
usually t3 one more despotic and less benignant than that
which they deserted. Or else, communism will destroy their
wealth and civilization and bring it down to chronic barbarism.
An authentic incident of one of the great ''mining strikes'"
in Pennsylvania well illustrates this. A yeoman farmer waj>
harvesting the products of his little orchards and fields, when
a sturdy loafer demanded a bag of apples and potatoes, with
the plea that he had neither money nor provisions for his
family. ''And who might you be?" asked the farmer. "A strik-
ing miner, out of work for many weeks, with the Reserve Fund
of the Union utterly exhausted, and the strike unadjusted."
"'And," inquired the farmer, "why did you strike at first?"
"Because the company," said the miner, with sundry indignant
epithets, "refused to raise our daily wages from one and a half
dollars to one and three-fourths." "So," said the honest far-
mer, "I earned my farm, working at one-half dollar per day,
and you reject work at three times that price. None of my
apples or potatoes are for such as you." The farmer was right.
The acts of the oligarchies are aggravated in injustice by the
fact that they were already better paid than the majorityi
ajrainst whom they would enhance prices.
The svstem also carries intrinsic iniustice to the capital-
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 313
ists in two ways: First, that it demands vii'tually tlie Hght of
making both sides of the bargain in this eantract of hibor and
wages. Eaeh party is entitled to make his own side of the bar-
gain; or if the otfer made him from the other side does not suit
him, to withdraw. There is no visible limit to the degree of this
injustice. Strikers say they strike, because wages go below the
limit of comfortable support. But what is a comfortable sup-
'port for a working man? If the strikers are to decide, it may
mean Havana cigars, canvass-back ducks and trutities, with Cha-
teau Margaux wine. The system encourages limitless extrava-
gance and waste; all at the expense of other peoi)le's capital
and of the other parts of the working public; second, the capi-
talists in selling the products of their factories, have to sub-
mit ta the great law of supply and demand. But the laborers, in
selling their labor to the capitalists, insist on evading that law.
There is no equity there.
As to the rights of public order and of other la'borers, the
system tends constantly and violently to pass from a method ol
mutual 'protection, into a criminal conspiracy. The sole ob-
ject of a threatened strike is to compel employers to pay prices
for labor in advance of these indicated by supply and demand.
If the supply were not full, demand alone would raise the price
of labor, and the strike would be superfluous. Now, the strik-
ers, as free men, have an undoubted right to decline work and
wages they think unfair. They may be very unwise in declin-
ing; but it is their right. And here their right ends. But if the
policy stops there, the employers will naturally defend them-
selves from this coercion, by going into the labor market and
hiring at the market price that substituted help which the full
supply offers. Thus, if the strike stops where the lawful rights
of the strikers end, it is inevitably futile. Of course then it will
not stop there. They will go farther to violate the rights of oth-
ers, who have an indefeasible right to take up any lawful work
and wages they choose. Strikers will go to attack this right,
by "boycotting," by obloquy, by threats, by terrorism, by vio-
lence, by murder. And when dynamite is introduced to punish
with death innocent persons, happening to use the appliances of
obnoxious employers, the crime is worthy only of devils. Tk)
sum up: If the equal rights of other laborers to accept the
work and wages rejected are respected; strikes are futile. If
ni4 'JHE LABOR UNION TIIP] STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE.
those rights are obstructed bj' force, strikes are criminal con-
spiracies. And our point is that the hitter is their logical ten-
dency. Unfortunately, the frequency of these outrages as the
sequels of strikes, fully confirms the charge. In fine, only three
modes are possible for adjusting the wages of labor and interest
of capital. One is to leave the adjustment, under equitaible
laws, which shall hold laborer and property-holder equals, to
the great law of sujtply and demand. The second is, to liaA'e the
Government fix maximum and minimum prices by statute. The
Third is to leave these combination of laborers and employers
against each other. For, if the one combine, of course the oth-
ers will. The second plan is mischievous despotism. See its
working in the French Revolutions. The third splits society
into warring factions, and tends to baii)arism.
Such is an impartial estimate of the tendencies of the
"Trades Unions." The gravity of the prospect is increased,'
when we consider the passionate determination of their mem-
bers. They seem more and more in love with their plans and
cherish them as their final and comj)lete hope. We are told
that the movement spreads continually. It has its propagand-
ists and newspapers. It confederates the different branches of
mechanical labor more and more widely. It aspires to hold
the balance of power in elections, and will before long, claim to
control legislatures and congresses.
Will primary education be its antidote? The negative to
this hope seems to be pronounced b}' the fact, that, thus far,
these projects have grown just as primary education has extend
ed, and precisely in the places which most rejoice in its mean^.
The same discouragement follows from observing the species of
development produced — an initial grade of knowledge and intel-
ligence, just adequate to the suggestion of a number of unsatis-
fied desires, and the adojotion of the shallow plausibilities of
sophistical theories for their gratification; while the breadth of
wisdom needed to show the hollowness of them has not been
attained; and this dangerous Sciolism is aggravated by the selt-
sufiiciency inspired by a conceit of culture. This primary
education exactly prepares a population for the reading and ac-
ceptance of superficial newspapers. Without the circulation of
newspapers, there would be no "Trades Unions" and no strikes
of any moment. The primary- school and the newspaper press
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 815
play into each others hands in assisting tliese dangcn-ous organ-
izations. In hnnian hand.s all the best things are perverted to
some miscliievous nses, and here we have the ])er versions of
these two good things, the School and the l*ress. The primary
school enables the youth to read. Poor human nature usually
craves the less wholesome pabulum for its powers, and here,
the superficially cultivated reader uses his little talent to read
the newspaper, instead of his Bible. The demagogue, the de-
signing agitator sees at once in the newspaper an engine for
swaying just such minds, and he makes erne low, sophistic;a'l
and shallow enough to suit his audience. Thus the country
has its literature of ''Strikes," Communism. Confiscation and
l\vnamite, with myriads of readers.
The more rapid progress of the late Confederate States, in
the creation and accumulation of wealth, as demonstrated by
the successive census returns of 1840, 1850 and 1860, was ac-
counted for, in part, by the absence of strikes. The Negro la-
borers could not combine; the white found no motive to do so.
Thus far the emancipated Negroes have not formed this species
of Trades' Unions by the race lines. But the Southern people
are now magnanimously giving them a universal common
school education. The result will be. as sure as the cycle of the
seasons, that before long they will also form their own "trades'
unions" on the ''color line." They will form them, because their
partial culture will exactly prepare them for their sophisms
and attractions; because they have already shown a marked ten-
dency toward co-operative associations, and a i)assionate fond-
ness for them; because, as now free laborers, they must feel
the siimuli to that course, now almost omnipotently felt by
white artisans among us. They will form them on the "color
line," if for no other reason, because the whites have already
applied that line everywhere in their trades' unions, and that
with a passionate vigor.
One of the future problems and perils of the couiilry
is this race contest. Where the industrial centers have a mil-
lion of Negroes, educated up to the use of the stump-speech, the
radical newspaper and the revolver, closely organized in trades'
unions, then the peace of the country will hang in constant sus-
pense.
Two antidotes have been proposed for the poisons involved
816 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE
in these unions. One is, tlie application of the co-operativic*
plan, wliich has been so successfully applied in England in the
^'ork of "distribution," to the industries of production? In
retail distributit)n, the Kachdale plan has, indeed, wrought
wonders, at least in England. It is still to be seen whether the
system can be made to work among Americans, with their eager
and intense individuality.
But there appears, on reflection, a fatal difficulty when we
attempt to apply it to industries of production. It proposes to
identify the relations and interests of the employers and the la-
borers. It says, these shall be as truly stockholders in the joint
concern, and capitalists, as those. But, unfortunately, the dif-
ference between employers and laborers, between the property-
class and the property-less class, has arisen out of natural and
acquired differences of personal attribute, for changing which
the meth3ds of co-operation are as weak as "the Pope's l>ull
against the comet." In a country like this, where the laws are
already equal, the whole difference between those who have
property, and those who have not, has been made by the pres-
ence, or lack of "talents of acquisition'' in themselves or their
parents. The well-to-do families are so, because their working
mem'bers have energy, skill, prudent foresight, self-denial as
also, perhaps, selfishness. Especially does the creation of
"saved-up capital," the feature which makes the man an em-
ployer instead of an employe, depend on self-denial. The com-
mon proverb says: "Kiches come more by saving than by mak-
ing." Political economy teaches the same; showing us that each
man's saved-uj) ca})ital represents exactly so much self-denial,
either in him or his forefathers, in reserving present income
from the indulgence of present desires, for the distant and re-
mote uses of capital in the future.
Again, sagacity in applying, in investing, in u.sing the
previous savings, is more important than either rapid skill in
earning, or self-denial in not spending. Here is your rapid, effec-
tive worker, who does earn large wages. Neither does he eat
them up in immediate indulgencies. His mind is keenly bent
on accumulation. But somehow, his money is ever "put into
bags with holes." His ventures in investment are ill chosen
and unlucky. He has an infinite amount of mental activities
about plans and investments, but he ever lacks that "mother-
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRILE AND TITR COMMUNE. 817
wif," that sagacious insight, which is a natural gift. And this
picture is seen, in this countrv, more frequently than tlie in-
stances of poverty from sheer indolence.
Now, if the industry is to be truly co-operative — if the
smaller shareholders are not to be deprived of their votes in it,
and directed both in their labors and the use of their earnings,
by the will of the large capitalist in the concern — which means,
simply their slavery — these votes which represent rashness, un-
thrift, self-indulgence, imprudence, must be equivalent with the
votes of the sagacious — ^of course, then, "the concern'' must
come to grief. This directive will, which represents the aggre-
gation of all the unwise who have remained among the small,
or laboring shareholders, simply because they are unwise, can-
not compete with the rival concern, which is directed by the
best practical wisdom. The co-operative factory will be a fail-
ure; and the association will dissolve in disgust of mind, where
the factory of the successful capitalist will succeed. The resolve
that the present plan shall be replaced by co-operative factories,
which shall succeed, amounts simply to this: ''Resolved, that
all laborers have the personal attributes of a Peter Cooijer!"
Nature and Providence concur to make men unequal; they can-
not be made equal bj- the ''resolutions" of theorists.
Once more: however co-operative, a factory must have exe-
cutive officers, directors, salesmen, treasurers. These must
handle all its earnings and assets. Supposing the system to re-
ceive the wide extension necessary for its healing fully the rela-
tions of labor and capital, shall we find enough Iwnest laboring
men in America to fill all these responsible places? Or would
80 large a portion of the ventures break down through defalca-
tions of officials, as to spoil the experiment? The morals of the
strike system do not seem very well adapted to breed strict hon-
esty!
The other .proposal is, that the quarrels of labor and capi-
tal shall be prevented, by making the National Government it-
self the general industrial manager. The Democratic theory is,
that the Government reflects the combined will of all the peo-
ple. This, then, is the right agency to direct industrial pur-
suits. Let the Government 'be in place of the corporations and
capitalists.
Here several plain thoughts give us pause:
318 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUN-E.
First. If this plan will be g03d, it will be because the Gov-
ernment direction ^ill be better than that of the corporation or
personal will. If, then, the Government is to confer this ad-
vantage on some Industries, it must confer it on all. Otherwise
we shall introduce inequalities and favoritisms most odious to
Democratic theory. If it undertakes to operate all industries,
it becomes a worse than Chinese despotism, a machine so vast
as to crush out all individuality, and to break down hopelessly
by its own weight.
Second. The success of the Government's management in
all these industries must depend supremely on the competency
and honesty of the Government's officials. They must consti-
tute an immense host. Personal motives to zeal and fidelity
will be largely annihilated. Is there enough of this high in-
tegrity in America, to work the huge machine? The present
Government seems to have a deal of trouble in finding enough
honest officials for its present small functions!
Third. The Government is practically represented in the
person of the magistrate. But, by the nature of Government,
"he beareth the sword." His power is essentially punitive.
Transgressions against his will must be held as "crimes" and
"misdemeanors.'' Shall his industrial functions as the man-
ager of numberless laborers be enforced by this species of sanc-
tion? Shall the Government hold that i\x^ employee who has
not watched his power loom, or chiseled his stone aright, is to
be corrected as the petty larcener is? If not, how else? Un-
der slavery, this negligent laborer might have been corrected
by the birch; under our present hireling system, he is cor-
rected by dismissal; but under this Governmental plan all in-
dustries, as we saw, must be equally the Government's; aac}
whither shall it dismiss the \q.zj employe? To banishment from
his country? Hardly. To idleness? If he is still to have from
the Government his subsistence, this would be a mockery of
punishment; rather a reward for idleness and an injustice to the
true workers. There appears no mode of dealing for this in-
dustrial Government, except to treat defect of work in the citi-
zens as larceny is treated.
This suggests the fourth and hardest question of all. If
Government is to be general, not to say universal, industrial
agent, it must see to it that all whom it employs and subsists do
THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND TIIR CO:\[MUNE. 319
Iheir houesc sliare of ihe work. Far orherwi^ie, the idlers vvouIJ
be rewarded for their sin by being set up as an aristocracy above
tlie faithful workers, to live at ease at the others' expense. Each
citizen then must be held responsible to Government for |the
diligent and useful employment of his time, under some eflflcient
penalty. But the "Government" as such is an abstraction,
which directly touches no man. It must act through persons
clothed with official power. The meaning, tlien, would be that
the citizens must answer to some officeholder, representing this
sovereign Government, under some penalty, for doing his share
of work. But this means slavery it is its exact definitions. The
conception of this governmental plan is communistic; and ev-
ery thoughtful man knows that communism means either an-
archy or slavery. It may be objected: The Government'e
clerks and postmasters now work precisely under that system,
and are not slaves. The reply is first, that probably they some-
times do feel that they are virtual slaves; but chiefly, that they
become employes of Government now by their own free appli-
cation, and may resign when they feel oppressed by their su-
periors, and thus free themselves by returning to private life.
But on the plan discussed, all this would be different; the Gov-
ernment v/oiild be compelled to exact the adhesion of its work-
ers,— as it does of its conscripted soldiers, whose condition is
that of bondage for their term of service — and to refuse this
privilege of resigning.
There appears then, no remedy, except in the firm and just
administration of the laws, coupled v;ith wise and equitable
commercial and industrial legislation and the propagation of
industry — ^economy and contentment among the people by
means of Christian principles. There is no attitude for the
Government towards "strikes'' excejtt the legal and righteous
one. If operatives choose to form a society to forward their
own interests, they have a right to do so, provided they do not
infringe other people 's. If the society cliooses ta "(pmrrel with
their own bread and butter'' by rejecting a certain work at cer-
tain wages; they have a riglit to do so. But i/ieir recent employers
have equal right to go into the labor marl'ct and hire others for that
work at those 7vages; and all other laborers have equal right to that
work if they are tvilling to the wages.
The moment the "union" goes an inch beyond the mere
B20 THE LABOR UNION, THK STRIKE AND THE COMMUNIS.
withdrawal — the moment it begins to obstruct, terrorize, or
beat, or murder the employers and the new employes, it has be-
come a criminal conspiracy; the State should put it down with
as prompt and firm a hand as they would put down highwayi
robbery or foreign invasion. Ta the clear and just mind this is
clear. But is there any American State which performs this
duty? Alas no! We are more likely to see the State Governors
corresponding with and conciliating the "strike," the poweir
whose very end of existence is "to be a terror to evil doers,"
bowing to the conspiracy of evil-doers, who ought to be bowed
before the majesty of the law. Pitiful sight!
Troperry is always i-autious. apparently timid, at the be-
ginning of collisions, for it is conscious it is valuable; it has
much to lose. But, because it has much to lose, property always
defends itself resolutely when pressed to the wall. And when
rlie i)eriod of caution has passed, property defends itself success-
fully. For money is power, and the talents of acquisition
which gained the money are power. One thing has already
become clear to the thought of property: that when the hour of
forcible defense comes, the militia of the States will be worth-
less. They are too near the rioters. Property will inv.)ke, as
the only adequate force, the standing army of the United
States. And, as the industrial centers are numerous and popu-
lous, the United States must have a large, a widely difEu^edi
standing army to invoke. Thus the property-holder will be
educated by his needs and experiences in the hour of trial, to
think of his State as the Cipher, the Washington Grovernment
as the only Poiver. The discontented classes, who must at last
be restrained by force, will be educated to regard State author-
ity as a shadow, and Federal authority as the substantial fear.
The surest result of the approaching strife will thus be to com-
plete the practical extinction of State sovereignty, and the con-
solidation of the federation into one empire. It will be an em-
pire governing by the bayonet.
THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN EARMlNti
INTERESTS.
By Robert L. Dabney, D.D., LL. D.,
Professor of Moral niul Mental riiilosophy aud Political
Science.
This depressimi is roal and ji,reat, at least when com])ared
wirli the other industrial interests of the country. The life af
our tillers of the soil may not be so sordid as that of the Egyp-
tian Fellahin, or of the Irish cotter tenants, but they I'eceive
h^ss than their coniparative share of the material rewards of
]al)[)r. This is enou<>ii to constitute the offense both against
public justice and security. It is an outrage of the equities
which a boastful i»oi)ular government should secure alike for
all its classes. It is as i-eal a ground of perilous discontents in
the great farming classes. This depression is proved: (1) By
comparing the wages of other industries with those of farm la-
bor: A puddler in an iron mill earns ten or more dollars per
day, a bricklayer in this city demands |130 per month, a house
carpenter or stone-cutter |70 per mouth; but in the most pros-
]ierous part of the Southwest, the farm laborer receives at most
|20 per month, with plain rations; in the old Atlantic States,
the best farm laborer receives $8 per month and rations. Able-
bodied women servants receive from 15 to 18 cents per day, with
rations. But the strongest point is that the profits of agricul-
ture cannot bear even these wretched wages. It is the almost
invariable experience of employers, that the staple cro.ps pro-
duced with hired labor, ev(Mi at these wages, bring the capital-
ists to insolvency; and usually, the only producers who escai)e
this result are those who till their crops by the unpaid labor of
~ '~~ 321
392 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS.
themselves and rheir cliiklrtMi. This rehitive depression is prov-
ed: (2) By comparing rustic with town life. Both classes have
their paupers; but our comparison is drawn between the two
great middle classes in rural and in town life, who employ some
capital with some measures of persistent labor in the attempt
to create values in the two spheres. The condition of the
country family, as to long hours of labor, dress, food, dwelling
and furniture equipage, amusements and recreations, is found
to be comparatively hard and sordid. But the comparative con-
ditions of town life in all these respects are easy, handsome, and
even luxurious. The non-agricultural industries and employ-
ments of capital somehow enable those occupied by them to
spend five fold as much in the superfluities of life. A fair typi-
cal instance may be found in the history of such a migration as
was occurring farty years ago in New England in tens of thou-
sands of cases. Two brothers, with the same blood in their veins
and the same education, sold and divided the old New England
homestead to migrate to Illinois. Each had the same capital^
say $3,500. One became a Chicago trader, the other a prairie
farmer. The success of each has been neither above nor below
the average of his class. We compare them at the end of forty
years. The Chicago man is living in a brownstone front, faring
sumptuously every day, indulging his family freely in fashion-
able amusements, regarding a five dollar opera ticket for each
member of his family as an entirelv reasonable indulgence : the
pa/er familias assures us, with a smile of superiority, that he
could not think of keeping house in Chicago on less than some
17,000 per annum. It does not at all follow^ that he has created
or amassed wealth: perhaps if he were forced into liquidation
he would not be found the real owner of the |3,500 he first
brought to the city, but the luxurious house-keeping goes on
just the same, with its enormous annihilation of values in un-
productive consumption; of which the only salution is that he
is consuming values created by other people's industry and cap-
ital, which he extorts from them by the jugglery of our Ameri-
can free institutions. Let us now seek out his brother, the prai-
rie farmer. We find him on the little prairie farm which he
bought with his patrimony forty years before, living in a board
cottage. By virtue of an unusual diligence and prudence he is
not mortgaged, and in consequence of the appreciation in the
*ttE Depression of American farming interests. :i2'j
price of liis land, possesses probably 15,000 or |(i,OOU. He still
dresses in working- men's clothes and cowliide boots, drives his
own wagon and i)low six days in every week and takes a hand
in all the hardest forms of farm labor. His hands are horny
and his joints nngainly and stiff with toil. His meals are jtlen-
tifnl, bnt coarse, for tlie demands of taxes, commissions and
wages reqnire the sale of the larger pail of tlie bntter and poul-
try produced by his thrifty farm. His best equipage is his si)ring-
wagon, drawn by plough horses; the most lavisli amusement of
his family, an occasional visit to the fifty-cent circus. His
household contains no liired domestic; wife and daughters are
the only indoor drudges. His family subsist upon ahont |(>00
per annum. I am aware that these truthful pictures are usually
met witli the cry that "skilled labor" deserves, and by incnit+i-
ble economical law must receive, liigher wages.
It is claimed that the labor of the artisan and of commerce
is skilled labor, wliilc rustic labor is unskilled. Now. this is
wliat I expressly deny; and I am supported by the l)est econo-
mists. It is true that this Chicago trader has become skilled in
cei'tain little ai-ts of cornering markets, inflating commissions,
of which liis rustic brotlier has remained ignorant, greatly to his
credit, lint the prairie farmer has developed higher intellectual
skill and more varied resources, in place of the petty-fogging
arts of the trader. He has learned the wisdom of the practical
"crop-master," including a knowledge of the climate, seasons,
soils, manures, modes of tillage, crops, and is yearly exercising
upon these data the wide sagacity of the inductive philosopher.
He lias become a veterinary surgeon, an orchardist, a dairyman,
a machinist, besides practicing a half dozen distinct trades. On
his winter evenings he has read many more, and more solid,
books tlian his brothei'.
Or let the artisan be com])ared with the farm laborer. We
may be pointed to the city bricklayer, who exacts for one month
of his labor six months' wages of his country brother. Oh! we
shall be told, his is skilled labor! ''See with what rapid dex-
terity he spreads a trowel full of morlar and lays brick after
brick accurately to the line. The country bum]»kin cannot do
that!'' T reply: Put a weeding-hoe into this bricklayer's hands
and ])ut him to chopping out cotton. Let us see whether he can
cut away a sprig of "crop-grass" from within (Uie-quarter of an
324 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS.
inch of the cottou plant, without iiijui-ing the tender stalk. Give
him a cotton bag and let us see whether he can accomplish one-
sixth part of a man's daily picking. Set him to harness, to ad-
just and to operate a mowing machine with a spirited pair of
horses. He will be a fortunate bricklayer if he escapes the first
morning without being sawn asunder by his own cutter blade.
The truth is, wliile the artisan practices a few very handsome
dexterities, the good farm laborer must practice a score; of
w^hich each one is as hard to learn as the dexterities of the me-
chanic.
(3) The steady and alarming drift of the American popula-
tion from country to town reveals the depression of the farm-
ing interests. This transfer has now assumed frightful projror-
tions. In 1700. of that American people which established its
independence hy revolution, one-third of one per centum lived
in towns of 8,000 population or more. Since then, the steady
and increasing drift has proceeded, until, in 1800, 25 per cent.,
or one-fourth of our whole population, is collected into towns
and cities. Meantime, towns and villages under 8,000 people
have been multiplied two hundredths. But these also give only
the conditions of urban life. This transfer of population has
been long continued, and is increasing rapidly. It has a cause.
Our own observation shows us that nearly every American,
3'oung man strives to quit the land and rush to the town. Some
would fain persuade us that this drift does not result from the
comparatively hard conditions of country life, but from the so-
cial attractions of towns, and from the ill-informed imagina-
tions of the country youth, ignorant of the trials and failures of
town life, and flattered with visions of easy and rapid wealth.
This solution is not correct. Kural life has also its natural at-
tractions, which ought to be more vivid and alluring than the
garish shows of the city: the attractions of azure skies, of green
fields and forests, of country sports, by field and stream, of
horse-back exercise, and of the tender and sacred associations of
home. Healthy young natures respond keenly to these. Were
they free to act they should easily countervail the tawdry seduc-
tions of the theater, concert room, and saloons. A few days'
experience of these would wear off all the tinsel of novelty: the
young spirit would quickly revert to its more natural attrac-
tions. Nor is it true, that American youths are ignorant of the
real conditions of city life, or be fooled with idle visions of its
THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 826
i:!:loi'ies. rountry people know more of the citie.s than city peo-
ple do of the country. No newspapers are printed in the coun-
try. It is the cities which print them, and the country people
universally read them. Ko, our young people are well aware of
whatever is hard in the conditions of city life, but they w^eJl
know that the conditions of country life are harder; therefore
they crowd the cities.
(4) This depression is revealed by the deep discontents of
the farming population. In our day they find a renewed and
ever widening- expression. Some years ago the Granger move-
ment spread over America, and engaged the interests of nearly
the whole farming population. Xow we have the gigantic and
more determined movement of the Farmers' Alliance. We see
this conf;)unding the clearest lines of national parties, driving
the most trusted statesmen from their seats of power, and urg-
ing their passionate demands for redress. Let none deceive
themselves and mock at these mighty movements as blind or
I'luile. Let none flatter tliemselves that farmers cannot com-
biiie effectively. This may be true or untrue, yet unquestionably
we see here the .symptoms of a terrible and deep disturbance.
Whether this feverish bod3- is destined to be wise or not, it
is still vast. It represents the industry of 1(),00(MMM) of working
hands, and the direct subsistence of more tlian 3(>,(M>0,0()0 of
souls; indirectly it is the foundation of all other industries; the
values which it creates furnish the whole material handled by
all other industries, manufacturing or commercial. It is the
only source of the food and raiment of all. It may be that this
huge or pressed mass is to be compared to the Titan Enceladus,
upon whose breast Jove piled up the whole bulk of Mount
Aetna. Like Enceladus, it ma}' not be able to throw off the
super-incumbent burden, and yet its convulsions may throw?
lava streams of anarchy and revolution, which will rend the
whole sujierstructure and burn up the luxurious vineyards and
gardens which bedeck its upper surface.
II.
This depression and displacement of the farming popula-
tion should be the subject of grief and alarm. All orders of the
.\meric'an people are vitally interested in this evil.
First, this undue drift to urban life is injurious to the pub-
326 TflE DEPRESSION OF AMKRICAN FARMING INTERESTS
lie wealth. I shall uot say with the old exploded French school
of Economists, that agricultural industries are the only ones
which really create new values. I admit that the mechanical
and commercial industries create increments of value in the ag-
ricultural products upon which aBne the}' operate. But the
pretended industry of such middlemen as really contribute noth-
ihing to the perfecting and circulation of commodities is an un-
productive nuisance. Such middlemen are scarcely found at
;jll in the ranks of ii,iirirulrnral industry. It is in the traffic of
towns That they intrude themselves successfully. These are the
linman hives in which these drones are found in needless num-
bers, consuming, but producing no honey. We have seen. als3
that the tendencies of American life in towns are far more lux-
urious than in the country. Town life consumes unproductively
a far larger share of the values created in the society than does
country life, by its ever increasing and insatiable pomps of liv-
ing and amusement. Again, urban life in America is a terri-
ble consumer of the human species; its bills of mortality show
a jarge percentage of death. Especially is the American city
a devoiirer of infant life. The stifling heats and polluted at-
mosphere of the lanes and alleys inhabited by the poor in mid-
summer sweep away the innocents almost as fast as they come
into the world.
Perhaps it is the vice of jur American home life that only
a small part of the youth reared in ciries grow into habits of
steady industry. The ranks of city business have to be con-
tinually refilled from the country. The sons and grandsons of
those who have prospered in town are unable to perpetuate
their parents' prosperity. Some are sybarites, some are sots.
The country has to be drained afresh of its sturdy sons in order
to replenish the ranks of industry. Jefferson did not much
mistake when he declared, ''That great cities are but great ul-
cers upon the b3dy politic." The urban population become un-
safe depositories for political power.
The minute specification of occupations breeds a narrow
one-sideduess of mind, the people with a great conceit of their
own intelligence, become overweening and excitable; revolu-
tions alw^ays begin in cities. It is always municipal politics which
first breed political corruption in America. A Tammany could
onlv exist in a crreat citv. Once more history shows that the
THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 827
martial virtues grow chiefly among the rural popuhitiou. i^hall
we be reminded of the New York Seventh regiment and sim-
ihir amateur (-ovps in our pompous cities. What part have these
performed in actual warfare? A large portion of their
rank and file was born and reared in the country. Cromwell
found the London train bands in the parliamentary army of no
account in the shocks of battle. Their ranks were filled, he
sjiys, chiefly with decayed tapsters and serving men, the squad-
rons of l*rince Rupert, formed of country gentlemen, rude them
down like herds of sheep. Convinced that the liberties of his
countr}^ could never be defended by such soldiers as these,
Cromwell went into the country of Huntingdonshire and there
recruited his regiment of Ironsides from the sons of the yeoman
freeholders. Thus he formed that terrible body, which carried
victory upon its bayonet through every subseciuent battlefield,
which never met an enemy, whether it was the chivalry of Eng-
land, of France or of Spain, without both defeating and de-
stroying hiui. The Stonewall brigade was recruited by Jackson
from the s )ns of the farmers in the Valley of Virginia. Indeed,
the armies of the Confederacy were all armies of the farmers;
and such was their powers that it required a gigantic struggle
of four years to enable tlie plutocracy and proletariat of the
combined world to overthrow them. But they, with their sys-
tem of rui'al life, have been suppressed.
Woe to the laud, to g-athering ills a prey
Where wealth increases, and where men decay.
—Goldsmith.
III.
Every patriot, consequently, should wish to find a remedy
for this continental evil of agricultural depression; but a remedy
can only be found by ascertaining the causes of the disease. If
our efforts are directed to a mistaken cause, they will work only
evil and not benefit.
I do not, for instance, find the cause of this depression in
the existing volume of American currency: nor do I see any
hope of a remedy in its inflation. Every true friend of the far-
mer sees his hopes directed to this false (quarter with soi-row.
For we are aware all history and iscience prove that such in-
flation can only aggravate the evils which now gall him into
justifiable resentment. So evident is this to i»ersons well in-
H28 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS
formed, that when they see the pretended advisers of the Alli-
ance misleading- it in this direction, it is hard to suppress the
suspicion that they are the bribed agents of the real oppres-
sors of the country, practicing to perpetuate their domination
bv misdirecting the etforts of the sufferers.
But would not inflation of currency enable the farmer to
sell his products at a higher nominal price? Yes, for a time, but
at a deadly ulterior cost to the farmer.
For first, that inflation of currency which would raise the
nominal price of the farmer's products must at the same time
raise the price of all the other commodities which the farmer
wishes to purchase.
Let us suppose that inflation enables him to sell tlie cotton
bale, which before had broug^ht him |40, for |80. He must now
pay at least I^SO for |40 worth of those goods which he needed to
buy with that cotton bale for his farm and family. What has
he gained by the change except the childish amusement, or more
probably the fatigue of counting twice as many dollars?
But second, when inflation shall have raised the nominal
price of his cotton bale to |80 he will not be able to purchase
that return of commodities for his farm and family for |80,
more probably he will have to pay |100 for them. For it is an
established fact in history that when inflation is proceeding,
land values and their prDducts respond more slowly to the
stimulus of prices than other species of goods. There is a plain
reason for this: The farmer's values cannot be made to change
hands so quickly as the commodities of the merchant, and as
everybody knows that this rise of price, stimulated by inflation,
is precariaus and must be temporary. 'Nobody is so foolish as to
venture a full increase of price upon these slowly moving land
values. This was exactly verified in 1862, when the rapid in-
flation of the Confederate currency was stimulating prices. The
prices of lands and negroes had scarcely began to move percep-
tively, when those of mercantile commodities had been inflated
four or five hundred per cent. Thus it must ever be, by the
time inflation shall have raised the price of the farmer's cot-
ton bale from $40 to |80 it will have raised the prices of the
goods which he must purchase with that cotton bale to
or $i:iu.
Third. Inflation of currency must always be temporary,
THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 829
Like a fevoi- in a natural body, it must cure itself after a short
time or kill the patient. This has been the history i)f every in-
tiation, ancient or modern. Tliere is a reason for this, as un-
erring and absolute as the gravity which makes rivers run down
hill. So, a portion of the money in the region of inflation must
immediately begin to tlow out into neighboring societies, where
currency is not inflated. Why do unthinking people desire in-
flation? Because it raises prices. But this means simply that
the money now has less purchasing power within the region of
inflation than without it. And now the self-interest of every hu-
man being who has any of this money prompts him to send it
away from the place where it has less purchasing power to the
places where it has more. If it were found that cotton could be
sold for more in Galveston than in Liverpool, by the amount
of any margin above the freight and insurances, cotton would
immediately begin to come back from Liverpool to Galveston.
But of all commodities, money is the quickest to respond to this
inevitable law of trade, because it is the most readily handled
of all. Unless a society cuts itself off absolutely from all busi-
ness relations with all other societies, it is as impossible for it
to maintain permanent inflation as for the engineer to sustain a
permanent mountain of water upon the fluctuating bosom of the
Gulf. Inflation sooner or later cures itself, and with it nominal
prices decline again.
In the fourth place, when this constriction of currency be-
gins, money appreciates in value; that is to say, its purchasing
power is now increasing; but commodities depreciate in value.
That is to say. any given quantity of them demands less money.
But the money, which is appreciating, is chiefly in the hands of
the money-lending and trading classes. It is the conrmodities
which are depreciating which are in the hands of the agricul-
tural classes. Thus, whenever the inevitable constriction be-
gins, it is they who lose and the trading classes who gain. In-
flation has encouraged the farming classes to make debts; these
must now be paid oft" with their crops and lands at depreciated
prices. Thus again it is the farmers who suffer. Some will ask,
perhaps, why prudent foresight could not be exercised in view
of the coming constriction, so as to adjust one's business to it,
and avoid these losses. .1 answer: It is precisely the money-
lending and trading classes who are in a position to exercise
880 THE DKPRKSSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS.
I hat foresi^'lit, and it is precisely the fanners who are not. These
live scattered through the country; they are engrossed with
their crops and stock; they are the last to learn the news of
the api^roaehing c jnstriction of currency and changes of values.
Even if they forsee, they find themselves in no condition to
make beneficial use of their foresight, because the money, which
is ap})reciatiug, they have not ready; the commodities which are
dei)reciating are chiefly what they have to dispose of. But the
trading classes live in the centers of financial news. They are
the first to learn ,)f coming changes; ready money is the crop
wliit-h they handle. Hence it is they who are sure to make ad-
vantage of the fluctuations. Inflation is bad for the business
and bad for the morals of all classes; but it is worst of all for
the farmers.
Our country has lately seen an exact illustration of these
principles brought out upon a gigantic scale. The Federal cur-
I'ency which replaced the Confederate in 1865 was a paper cur-
rency inflated about fifty per cent. This inflation, according to
the universal rule, cured itself. The greenback dollar approach-
ed more and more nearly in value to the gold dollar until, in
1872, one was eipuil to the other, and specie payments were
spontaneL)usly resumed. No law was passed by State or Fed-
eral government to force that result. The financial wiseakers
seemed afraid to legislate about it. Specie resumption came of
itself. The gold room died of itself and was closed. Some may
attempt to argue that the result was not spontaneous, but was
virtually forced by the legislation of the radical party contract-
ing the volume of the Federal treasury notes during those years.
It is true the lavish issue made of those notes during the war
was arrested; a large part of them were redeemed and with-
drawn from circulation, but every dollar thus withdrawn was
redeemed with some other kind of circulating dollars, silver,
gold or national bank notes; and there was nothing to forbid
these from entering the circulation and filling the precise place
there of the treasury notes withdrawn. Again, silver and gold
mining was revived and rapidly extended during those years,
throwing into the veins of the national circulation annually
multiplying millions of the money metals. Still again, during
those years a high war tariff was enforced. The avowed tenr
dencyof such tariffs is to create the so-called "balance of trade''
THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 331
wliicli causes foreijiii rui-i-ency iustead of inijtortcd coiimiodities
iu large part to flow into the "protei-ted" eoiintry. And last
the chaste national banking law was in full force, ottering un-
limited incoi'jvjration to all creditors of the government, and
enticing them to use the banking privilege freely to issue na-
tional bank notes by that cunning arrangement which enabled
the bondholders *'to eat their cake and have it too." Nothing
but the natural andinevitable principles of currency restricted the
indefinite multiplication of national bank notes. This inflation
cured itself, withjut the aid of human legislation or any force
from without. Let us now look at the consequences of this con-
striction upon the planters of the country. Cotton was con-
tinually depreciating in price, while money was ap])reciating.
Debts created at the inflated figures must now be paid with the
pi*3ceeds of cotton sold at declining figures. The crop mort-
gages consumed the substance of the planters with a more dead-
ly voracity from year to year, until at the end of the period
money lenders and commission merchants owned all that was
left and the planters were paupers. The old proverb saith:
•'Dame experience keeps a good scliojl, though a hard one"; but
it is the only one fools will learn in. The leaders who are now
attempting to seduce the Farmers' Alliance into schemes of in-
flation evidently give their pupils credit for even a less amount
of brains than is found in the unf )rtunate alumni of the severe
dame.
2nd. The earliest cause of the decay of the American farm-
ing interests was the overthrow of the labor system of the South
by the war between the States and its conse(]uent measures. T
feel no fear of ott'ending any political sensibilities when citing
this cause, since it is intioduced not f :)r its political bearings,
but solely for its econniiiic instruction, and sini^^ I cite no facts
except those given by the government of the Ignited States it-
self. The census retui-ns of that govinaiment testify that u]) to
1860 the Soutlicrn lalxn- system had been most fruitful ami m )st
productive of i)ublic and private wealth of any labor sysiem in
the country. In ISCO the South, with a little more than 12,000,-
000 of souls, possessed taxable values to the amount of |(>,7()0,-
000,000. In 1880, while the souls were 17,000,000. the taxable
values an.iounted in round numbers to ^:i,2;")0,000.000. That this
immense collapse of wealth had not been the work chiefly of
332 THE DEPRESSION Oh' AMEItlCAX ITAUMING IJMTEKESTri.
war is proved by the testimony of the government, whose cen-
sus in 1870 found the Soutliern people still possessed of taxable
values to the amount of about |4,780,000.000. The Southern la-
bor system had been destroyed, and with it this fruitful foun-
tain of national wealth was dried up to flow no more. I pre-
sume no one can be so unthinking as to suppose that this result
affected the South alone. The profits of civilized society are
I'eciprocal. When men wish to prosper they must ''live and let
live." Commodities produced beyond the actual wants of the
producer are of no value unless there is somewhere a demand
for tJitm. Without an exterior demand they must rot unsold.
It is not merely the presence of numerous people with hun-
gry desires which creates commercial demand: these people
must also possess something to buy with, which is a value to
the vendors. Before 1860 the South, with its lavish production
of wealth, bought lavishly of the products of the States north
of them, and that at liberal prices. They bought directly im-
mense volumes of the agricultural products of those States.
They assisted their agriculture indirectly, also, by buying huge
volumes of their manufactured products. In 1880 there remain-
ed in the South abundance of hungry desires, but little was left
wherewith to buy for their gratification. The agricultural
prostration of the South has reacte^l against the North by an
inevitable law, as wise Southern statesmen forewarned the
country; measures of reconstruction have been a boomerang,
^\hich ha^ rebounded, and struck in the rear only less severely
iln'.n in the front. This immense loss to both sections is, of
course, irreparable: the wisest economic science provides no
remedy for it. An arrogant but brutish pride may tempt men
to avert their eyes from incontestable facts, or even to deny
them, because they cannot now be repaired. But true wisdom
is more humble, as well as more honest, and is glad to learu
from every fact, however mortifying.
3rd. I find a second complicated and powerful set of caus-
es for agricultural depression, which have become almost uni-
versal in America in the form of artificial combinations for
monopolies. Naturally and e(iuitably the ratio of supply and
denumd ought to determine the price, wiiicli producers shall re-
ceive for any class of services or products they offer. If one
class of producers can artiticially violate the law of supply and
THE DKPRESStO^f OF AMfeRlCAN FARMING tNTERKStS. '.V.YA
deinaiid. this uiusr of course be by tln'owiug- the lass upon con-
sumei's of that ehiss of services or values. For iustauce, let cer-
tain irou workers combine, create an artificial monoiioly of their
services and thus inflate their price by means of the restrictive
rules of a labor uniju, then that element of unjust monopoly
price must be present in the agricultural machine which the
farmer buys. In paying for it he has paid in addition to the fair
cost or the raw materials, interest on capital, wages of labor-
ers and equitable commercial profit, a further monopoly price
to these laborers, and this remains an uncompensated plunder
upon the farmer's earnings, unless he can create some monopoly
claim upon other fellow citizens by which to ''recoup'' himself,
but this the farmer can never do. Now most Americans are nou
willing to let the equitable law of supply and demand regulate
their gains, hence nearly every industry except the farmers is
now organized into artificial monopolies. The prices of nearly
all of the services of meclianical, manufacturing and mining
labor are manipulated b}' the Knights of Labor and other la-
bor unions. The Printers' Typographical Union legislates that
we shall pay more than fair market price for type setting and
thus for all the books and newspapers; medical associations fix
the pnces at which we must be physiced; legal associations for-
bid the gravitation of fees for suits toward that modest price'
which the over-supply of legal talent would otherwise bring
about. The commission merchants foreordain what per cent-
age of charges, real and imaginary, they shall levy upon the
farmer's produce, which are never remitted however disastrous
to him their sales of his property may prove. The American
Xail Makers' Association, instead of observing the law of sup-
ply and demand, ordains what we shall pay for each nail driven
in America. The salt makers order the shutting up of nature's
fountains whenever she seems likely to cheapen that article of
prime necessity by a more liberal outflow of her waters. The
Lake Superior Copper Company legislates that every copper
wire used by Americans shall cost double price of that which
the same company sells to Europeans. The Standard Oil Com-
pany inflates the price of petroleum and the other oils and de-
presses that of the farmer's cotton seed. The sugar trust regu-
lates the price at which we shall taste the sweets of life. There
is now a cigarette trust fixing the monopoly price at which our
3^4 THE DEPRESSION OF AMEKIcaN FARMING INTEHEstS.
boys .shall poison rlicmselves and jKjlhitc the arniosjjliere around
tlieui, the carrying companies of the country make all their
freight charges upon the products of agriculture or upon the
return goods which these procure. Nearly all these campanies
inflate these charges either by watering their stock and load-
ing their roads with unnecessary bonds, the proceeds of which
they have silently appropriated; and they then load the pro-
duce of the country with such freight charges as shall pay divi-
dends both upon the actual and the fictitious values. Thus ev-.
ery such bjnd or share of stock beyond the actual costs of the
roads and their equipments becomes a perpetual lien upon the
lands and products of the farmers, whom they profess to serve,
levying upon them for all time both a just and an unjust profit.
But the list becomes tiresome, and now its latest addition is the
American Book Publishing Company, which proposes to levy
a monopoly upon the brain food of every boy and girl on the
continent.
The farmers remain one of the two great industries which
has hitherto been unable to combine to engross the earnings of
others, or even to protect itself against engrossers. This, I pre-
sume, is not because the farmers are less intelligent or less hu-
man than the other classes, but because they are so numerous,
so separated by their homes and pursuits, so divided in interest
by geographic and climatic causes, by the wide diversity and
the very immensity of their products. Effective combinations
for monopoly can never become feasible for them. Nor do they
desire them. What they righteously demand is means to protect
themselves against other monopolies. How to do this is a suflfic-
iently hard problem for them.
The other great class of Americans found in the same help-
less condition is the class of home makers. The 10,000,000 of
American wives, mothers and sisters who perform more unre-
mitting toil for smaller compensation than even the tillers of
the soil. It would be well for them to make common cause with
the Farmers Alliance. The other industries manage to overrule
the equitable laws of supply and demand by their artifices, the
farming interests has to accept, for the immense mass of values
it creates, less than the natural law of supply and demand would
ajjportion them.
4th. It is these unfair conditions which cause the enor-
THt: BEtJlESSION Oi^ AkKJilCAN FAKklNG INTEfeEStS. S^f)
mous taxation of the American Governnienr to press witli siicli
crushing- weight upon tlie farming interest;^. It is dimcult
to ascertain the real aggregate of the Federal, the State, the
county and the municipal taxes whicli our people have to Dear.
Enormous sums are levied in the irregular and vague forms of
sherittV and clerks' fees. We shall not go far wrong in estimat-
ing the total of $20.00 per capita for ever}- American soul.
These taxes are so diversified and the modes of collection varied
with such ill-starred ingenuity tliat the victims are scarcely
aware of their own burdens. The average farmer whose family
includes five souls will be much mistaken in supposing that he
gets off by paying one hundred dollars, i. e., .|20.00 for each soul
in his house. Many pauper families almost wholly escape ass-
essment. The personal jjroperty of the rich is often secreted
from taxation to a shameful extent, but the assets of the farmer
remain visible and palpable. The governments are remorseless
in their demands of the |20.00 from each soul. Hence those
who have property and who cannot and do not secrete it from
taxation must pny in addition to their own shares the shares of
all the paupers and all the deceivers. No additional words are
requisite to show^ how hardly- these exactions must press upon
those industries whose capital and labor are already yielding
the scantiest returns. Such are the industries of the American
farmer. For,
5. The Federal legislation is so adjusted as to be most in-
imical to his rights and interests. I refer chiefly to the so-called
protective system of the United States, which is the prime
source of the worst evils now crushing the farming interests in
America. I have explained how the various rings and trusts op-
erate to filch away the farmer's earnings without giving him any
just equivalent. It is the tariff which provides the conditions
of success for all these monopolies. As long as these fatal con-
ditions subsist it is not probable tliat the oppressed classes will
find any remedy. American ingenuity will always invent ways
to evade the oi)eration of the principles of the common law
against forestalling and regrating, and any statutes passed by
the States and by Congress, in a country burdened with such
an administration of justice as ours. The resort to free trade
would of itself abolish the conditions requisite to the success
of these iniquities so that they would perish of themselves. We
'i96 THE DEPEESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS.
see, for instance, the new book trust preparing its machinery to
levy a monopoly-profit, iu addition to equitable manufacturing
and commercial profits, upon every school child in America.
Let Congress only pass, in one line, the righteous statute remov-
ing all tariffs upon school books, and this gigantic fraud would
be checkmated at once. The best and cheapest printers in the
world, in Leipsig, Halle, Brussels, Edinburg, would in a few
weeks place in our seaports ship loads of American school
books, printed in our own language, with perfect accuracy, at
half the price of the monopolies.
Every one understands that when the government levies
tariff imposts upon imported goods, the final consumer ,of those
goods inevitably pays both the value of those goods, with reason-
able commercial profits thereon, and the tarilf tax in addition,
increased by parallel charges of prjfits and commissions upon
it also.
But the tendency of the system is to enable American pro-
ducers of similar goods to enhance the prices of them also to the
same level. This tendency may be partially checked by mutual
home competition, but here come in all the monopoly rings and
combinations designed to deprive the consumers of this check
of home competition. Were this tendency of tariff laws fully
i-ealized their result would be that consumers would pay as sim-
ple plunder to private fellow-citizens four dollars of unearned
profits for every dollar carried by the tariffs into the Federal
treasury. This is bad enough; but it only reveals the small be-
ginnings of the injustice wrought by the protective system upon
the great farming classes. To comprehend the w^hole the reac-
tionary influence of the protective system against the prices of
all the great export staples created by the tillers of the soil must
be clearly understood. By the term ^'Export Staples" we mean
all those classes of commodities w^hich are produced in Ameri-
ca in larger quantities than Americans can consume. Thivs
over plus of each class of commodities requires and seeks a for-
eign market, for without this it must only be wasted by need-
lessly lavish use at home or rot unronsumed. Either result is a
loss to the producers. Let, now, these indisputable facts be
combined: First. International traffic must be mainly barter
of goods for goods; it cannot be mainly the sale of our goodis
for the money of our national neighbors, for only the gold and
!i?^E DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERKSTS. 337
silver money of one nation can pass to another for the purchase
of Its gaods. It is impossible that one nation's paper monej
can be made to circulate as currency within another nation. It
is equally impossible that one, nation can part annually with
successive portions of its metallic money to pay for the goods of
another nation which it desired to acquire. The reason is abso-
lute: Very soon the volume of metallic currency in the pur-
chasing nation would be relatively so reduced that money would
be appreciated, the prices of commodities depreciated, and fur-
ther importations of them for sale would become impossible.
Such a form of international trade is therefore inevitably self-
arresting. If international trade is to go on at all it must be
the barter of goods for goods. Only so much specie can pass
backwards and forwards as will equalize the small temporary
oscillations in the balance of trade and in stirring exchange.
Second. All taritfs are restrictive upon free international
barter. They are intended to be such. It is their boast to be
such. If they did not operate to restrict the intiux of imported
goods, they would utterly fail to operate as protective of home
manufactories. Hence, when the United States enacts that cer-
tain goods imported from Great Britain shall pay a tariff im-
post, it thereby enacts a restriction upon the volume of such
goods possible to be exported to us by Great Britain.
Third. This at once operates as a restriction upon the pur-
chasing power of all foreign nations as \3 all our Export Sta-
ples.
It is their interest to purchase freely of our export staples
at good prices, provided we will let them pay in the various
useful goods which they produce at such moderate prices and
which we need. But the tariff" system says to them: "No, you
shall not buy freely of our great export staples which we so
much need to sell; for we will not take freely of those cheap and
useful goods which you produce, and which we need, and with
which alone it is possible for you to pay for what we send you."
Let us instance our cotton crop. It is impossible for American
spinners to consume annually mor<^ than two-fifths of it. Shall
the rest rot unspun? Great Britain says to us: We like your
cotton; it is good; we spin something more than 2,000,000 bales
per annum, and cannot ri^ir one pound in England; we are only
too glad to make you a good market at good prices for that
338 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTEflESTS.
vast portion of \'Our surplus, provided you will let us pay you
in the only things with which it is possible for us to pay, viz:
our cheap and excellent manufactured good:s which will be so
useful to you. But now comes in the American tariff and for-
bids Great Britain doing this gaod part by our cotton surplus.
It sternh restricts the quantity of British goods which can be
sent into America to pay for cotton, and thereby restricts the
purchasing power of Britain as to our cotton. Britain must con-
sequently buj- less of our surjilus, and that at reduced prices.
The actual result is that, instead of buying every pound
she spins from u?<, which .she would gladly do, our tariff' lawis
force her to buy as little as possible from us and at the worst
possible prices, and to seek a supply for her deficit of cotton
from the unfriendly climates of Hindoostau and from Egypt
and Brazil, which are glad to sell the cotton they rear to her
without this senseless restriction. This great instance showis
how surely tariff' restrictions operate against the prices of all
our export staples.
Fourth. The foreign price of these staples inevitably rules
the prices of all sold at home. Thus the tariff system, by injur-
ing the price of that portion sold abroad, injures the price of
every bushel and every pound produced upon the whole con-
tinent. Is any one ignorant enough to doubt this? Does not
every intelligent person know that every reaction against the
price of grain in Mark Lane, of tobacco at the London docks,
of cotton in Liverpool, immediately depresses the prices of these
staples in every American city. Let cotton decline five points
in Liverpool to-day; let Hubbard & Price report the price to-
morrow morning on the blackboard of the New York Cotton Ex-
change. Down goes cotton in New York five points. As soon
as the telegraph can bring the news to Galveston, down goes
the price there five points, and by day after to-morrow there
will not be a hamlet in Texas where the retail purchaser will
not insist upon a reduction of five points in his price.
Let us now^ glance at the quantity of these export staples
created by American tillers of the soil. In 1891 they produced
2,000,000,000 bushels of Indian corn, 040,000,000 bushels of
wheat, more than this quantity of oats, eight and one-third mil-
lions of bales of cotton, 8,000,000,000 pounds of tobacco, be-
sides dairy products, beef products, hog products, naval stores
i'SB DEPRESSION OF AMERICAIsr FARMING INTERESTS '.V.V.)
and other commodities. The sellinji' price of all this immense
mass of values has been depressed against the tillers of the soil
by this reflex operation of tariff laws. And for what end? That
inflated and unrio-hteous profits mav be i)iled up in tlie pockets
of a few thousand manufacturing: capitalists. And this is
American republicanism? We need no longer wonder at the
cruel depression of the American farming interests.
The price of ten cents per pound for cotton leaves to the
planter a bare chance of a scanty proiit. In this month of Jan-
uary-, 1892, yeomen farmers have been selling their cotton in
the streets of Austin at a heart breaking price of five cents per
pound. Lasf year the remorseless McKinley tariff ivent into
operation. ^ly argument shows that we have liere not only
the post-hoc but the propier-hoc. But meantime the prairie
farmer's wheat has advanced from 80 cents per bushel to |1.()5?
Yes. But is it possible that human eft'rontery and ignorance
could ascribe this beneficial result tn the McKinley tariff? We
are told tliat tliis impossibility has actually been accomplished
successfully in the Northwest by protectionist demagogues.
"The force of nature can no farther go." It would be a curious
problem, whether the impudence of the deceivers or the stu-
pidit}' of the deceived is the more gigantic. My argument has
demonstrated that a restrictive system can only act adversely
against tlie price of any and every export staple.
Tlie American tarilf is opei'ating adversely to-day against
the price of American wheat. This slight rise (which saves the
prairie farmers for a moment from despair) is purely the result
of a great and sudden dearth of breadstuff among nearly all the
2S0,0()U,U()() of Europeans. Such a stimulus, but for the blight-
ing influence of our tariff, should have sent American wheat
up, not to the poor ])rice of fl.OS per bushel, but to |1.()0. Un-
der the twenty per cent, tariffs which prevailed from 1S4() to
1801, smaller stimuli in European markets again and again
sent tlu' price of AnuM-ican wheat up to f 1.75 per bushel.
It will be easily ])erceived from the above analysis that I
have no (luack nostrums to ])roj)ose to the farmers as remedies
for theii' wrongs. Tlu^ jiolitical nu^asures which are due to
them and which would relieve tlu' unjust pressure, are the lion-
est and simple ones of old Soutliern statesmen.
Economical government, reduced taxation, the arrest and
340 THE DEPRESSloK OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS.
repeal of all class legislariuii and a swift return to strictly leve-
nue tariffs. Will the great producing classes see their true
remedy and combine in their strength to exact of our rulers its
faithful application? I fear not. Impatience misleads many.
The evil is chronic. Safe and wholesome remedies will only
operate slowly. The money oligarchy has its hired advocates
everywhere afield, who misdirect the views of the people. It
is to be feared the greatest obstacle to true reform lies here;
the real remedies are simple and honest, but the political mind
of America is largely dishonest. The true theory of republican
government taught by the fathers of America was this: That
the sole function of civil government is to protect the equitable
rights of all, while it bestows class privileges on none, and
leaves each free citizen to work out his own preferred welfare
by his own honest exertions in his individual independence.
But the popular conception of government has come to be that
it is a complicated and powerful machine, to be manipulated
for the advantage of whatever cliques can seize the control of
it, so as to juggle other people's earnings into their pockets.
Consequently the prevalent picture in our political movements
is this: The oppressing clique struggles by every means, fair
and foul, to retain its hold of the crank of the lucrative ma-
chine. The oppressed clique does not seek the restoration of
justice to all. Tliat is too simple and old fashioned. No; what
it seeks is to grasp in its turn the crank of the machine, in or-
der to make it so revolve as to recotip its losses, avenge itself
upon its oppressors, and imitate their selfish use of power. The
danger is that amidst these species of struggles patriotism and
political morality will perish. Parties will become more venal
and a constantly narrowing oligarchy of wealth will take the
place of true republicanism.
If the great agricultural class does not possess the e(iuity.
wisdom and firmness to enforce the righteous remedy, for uo
other class will find its interests in doing it. we may consider
free government in America as doomed.
'■THE DOLLAR OF 1 HE DADDIES."
(P>om the Houston Post, March, 1892.)
Such has been the very war-cry of the so-called "silver
men" in politics. They claim continually that the standard
silver dollar known as the "Bland dollar'' is precisely the dol-
lar of our daddies and that therefore they demand it. Now
the meaning- of this claim is, that the precedent of the Fed-
eral government, the example of its founders, and the weight
of their wisdtun and patriotism, justify the continued and un-
limited coinage of this dollar, containing three hundred and
seventy-one grains of pure silver. I shall show that this plea
fathers, in form and naime, but not in reality and worth, that
is uncandid and false, that this coin is now the dollar of our
were those wise 'old patriots here now, instead of fathering it
they would most certainly reject it. from the force of the very
principles by wliich they shaped the money policy of the coun-
try. The phrase is only a catch- word to juggle with, not an
argument to reason from. Some explanation is needed to
evince this.
It is true that our fathers adopted the "double standard"
for the Federal coinage, and that, by the advice of an excellent
financier, Mr. Albert Gallatin. The "single standard" makes
both gold and S'ilver money for the people and coins both for
their use, just as truly as the doufble standard. The difference
between the two plans is just this: the single standard makes
silver coins "legal tender" for debts only to small amounts
(say up to ten dollars (-flO), while for all larger debts gold coins
ahuie are legal tender. The plan of the "double standard"
makes the silver and gold coins both legal tender for debts of
any amount, however large, at the option of debtors. That;
alone is the essential point of difference. The results which
are designed and which follow in fact from the two plans are
341
342 THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES.
these: The single standard gives the people both silver raouey
and gold money to buy and sell with, just as the people prefer
the one or the other, and indeed it provides the people as much
silver money as they find it convenient to use in preference to
gold; but it does not enable debtors to compel their creditors
by force of law to take silver coins (except in very small
amounts) as the forcible measure and standard of the values
wliich they got from their creditors and which debtors are
bound to return to them when pay day come«. The law con-
fers that power only ou gold coins: that is all. 1 repeat, the
law of the single standard allows the i)eople tD enjoiy either
silver or gold coins as measures of value in trading with each
other, just as they choose to agree together at the time; but
the law refuse-s to empower debtors to force anything on their
creditors as the fixed standard of values, to be receivable w^hen
pay day comes, except gold coins. Such and no more is the
plan of the single standard in those great nations which have
adopted it, Russia, Germany and Great Britain; and such was
the whole extent of the much abused law of 1873 adopting the
single standard for the United States. The designed and ac-
tual result of the double standard is that it enables all debtors
to compel their creditors, by force of law, to take either silver
or gold coins, as the standard of values received, at the debt-
or's option.
Every truly scientific writer and statesman recommendis
the single standard, in all countries: and this for two reasons;
one is that the plan of double standard is always liable to be-
came dishonest and mischievous unless it l3e corrected by a
means very expensive and troublesome. The other is that this
plan always tends to make silver money, or gold money, or
both more scarce, and thus to deprive the people of the con-
venience of having plenty of both kinds in use. Whereas the
single standard tends to keep them both in circulation and
especially plenty of silver. So that the advocates of double
standard and free coinage are exactly wrong in telling the peo-
ple that their plan will keep more silver in circulation. This
may lo'ok strange at first, but the following facts make it plain.
These metals are not only the materials of coinage, but_
always articles of traffic in commerce. Xo laws and no power
on earth can prevent this. As articles of traffic, they must
THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. 343
fluctuate in relative value uuder the well known law of supply
and demand, just as iron, cotton, wheat, and tobacco fluctuate.
If the annual croip of silver remains the same, while the gen-
eral demand for ir diminishes, its price must fall. If the de-
nuind remains as before and the crop increases the price must
fall. If the annual crop increases faster than the demand the
price must fall, but if the relation of supply and demand in
the case of gold remains permanent while either of these
changes happens to silver it must become cheaper relatively
to gold. That is, if sixteen ounces of silver sufficed before to
buy one ounce of gold in metal markets, it will now requia'e
more than sixteen ounces of silver. Or. a quantity of wheait
which would before buy sixteen ounces of silver or one ounce
of gold indifferently will now buy more than sixteen ounces of
silver, and still only one ounce of gold.
If a governuient persists in the plan of the double stand-
ard after the silver in its dollar has thus come to 'be worth less
than a dollar it begins to practice a wrong, and to unsettle its
standard of values. As a rocking foundation is no real foun-
dation at all for a house, sj an unsettled standard is no stand
ard. Such a coinage instead of regulating traffic in a whole-
some manner tends to work confusion and disturbance in all
business transactions. For instance, two citizens in the exer-
cise of their rightful freedom have covenanted that the one
shall give to the other certain goods to be valued at one thou-
sand dollars and to be paid for by that number of these coins.
But what does "dollar" mean? Clearly the government when
undertaking to regulate that matter ought to give but one
answer. To give two different ones is confusion. Does "dol-
lar" mean twenty-three and one-fifth grains of pure gold? Or
does it mean three hundred and seventy-one grains of pure sil-
ver? But these are now quite different values I One of the
mischiefs always attending this confusion is: That it starts
circulation in currency itself, besides inflaming speculation in
all other kinds of goods bought and sold with currency. This
is ever a curse and let it be noted that it is the small money
lending class which always profits. In the end. it is the large
borrowing class which always loses, when currency itself is
speculated in. Especially is this true against the fai^mers. And
the reason is perfectly simple and certain. It is the money
344 THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES.
lending class whicli is always the most quickly informed of
the shifts and fluctuations between the two currencies because
it is their business to study them and they lire just in the cen-
ters of action; while the farmers, scattered over the country
and busy in their fields, are the last to find out what is com-
ing. Moreover the money lending class is most able to pro-
duce changes and shifts in the currencies, which it is their
business to handle in large (luautities. Hence we see, that the
politicians make two most absurd blunders when they tell the
farmers that it is to their interest to have abundant "soift
money" or silver money of infeiior value; and that the Wall
street men advocate a single standard and oppose free silver
coinage of standard dollars from selfish greed. The self in-
terest of the maney lending class would lead them to desire
another period of uue(iual currencies, for they know that they
get rich fastest in such times, and the debtor class suffers most.
And it is precisely the farming class whicli in the outcome al-
ways sufi'ers by "soft money." Does the aljundance ;)f this
seem for a time to raise the price of farm products? It is a
miserable cheat; for when settling day comes, as come it must,
the farmers always find that they have been paid for what they
have to sell with cheap monej- and now have to pay what they
owe in dear money. The farmers of the United States may be
sure that Mr. Cleveland is their truest and best friend here.
He is a learned, wise and honest man : let the farmers listen to
him if they wish to know what is for their good.
This is proved by our recent history from 1862 to 1871i
when the country had two different currencies, paper and me-
tallic; then it was the famous gold room seethed every day like
a caldron. It was then the foundations were laid for those col-
lossal fortunes in the hands of a 'few, which all men now see
to be so threatening to the rights and welfare of the people.
It was then the grand impulse was given to that fatal process
which, ever since, has been making the rich richer and the poor
poorer. Let the experience of that time also teach the farmers
the other truth; that in a time of ''soft money" it is they who
suffer, and it is the money lending class which gains. The
period I have marked was a time of soft money. When the
war between the States ended the Federal paper money quickly
I^ecame less depreciated, so that one and a half dollars of it
THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. 345
were equal to one gold or silver dollar; and the paper money
gradually appreciated. But it was soft moue^' until the re-
suuiption of specie payments. Now who was it that got rich
during that period? It was the bankers and commission mer-
chants whj lent advances to farmers, while the farmers got
poorer and poorer. Indeed the lending class almost ate up the
farming class bodily. That was the epoch when Richardson, of
Jackson, Miss., from being a little commission merchant, be-
came the largest cotton planter in ^the world, through the
agency of his advances and crop mortgages. Let farmers learn
by experience.
The silver shouters tell the farmers that the unlimited
coinage of silver dollars of inferior value is tie 'way to give
them abundance of silver money; which I expressly deny. It
is the very way to make money of both kinds scarcer. Again
I appeal to stubborn facts. Under the Bland law, the United
States has coined more than three huudred millians of these
inferior silver dollars. ^leautinu' Great Britain, in her wis-
dom, retains the single standard and limited coinage of silver.
But this very year the people of the United States are employ'
ing only $ i go per capita of silver money; while the people of
Great Britain are employing $2.85 per capital The rest of our
silver coinage lies obstinately in the vaults of the treasury?
the people will not take it out and handle it, though the gov-
ernment coaxes and almost britoes them to do so. Do these
facts look strange? They are explained by a simple view of
human nature. The people know in spite of the demagogues
that these Bland dollars are inferior in commercial value, each
one is worth, in fact, less than 75 cents. Now let an article
which the people know to 'be inferior be offered for their use
on two plans: Let the one plan be to offer it to their free op-
tion and say to them. "Here it is, it is an inferior article; \t\\\
can use it if yon chouse wherever your convenience calls for
it, or you can let it alone." The other plan says to the jieople,
"This article, which you believe to be inferior, you shall \w
made to take as superior, even equal to the best, and if you
take it when pay day comes, the law will compel you to pay
back in the best and dearest." Every one who knows human
nature knows that the first plan will circulate far more of that
article than the second plan. Suppose it were an inferior grade
346 THE DOLLATl OF THE DADDIES.
of butter, or flour, or cotton, cloth, or lard; let any grocer or
housekeeper answer. Leave them free to settle at an inferior
price for the inferior article according to their own judgment,
and convenience will prompt them to use a good deal of ir; but
when y3u make a law that the inferior shall be priced as high
as the best, everybody naturally resolves to have as little to do
with it as possible. It is the .same with the people's money.
The other consequence of our double standard with an in-
ferior silver dollar as legal tender for all amounts is still more
certain: it will ultimately drive away all the gold coiu. The
people have been hearing lately of "Gresham's law." This is a
principle in the science of currence so called ibecause that great
man explained and proved it so well 300 years ago. It is this:
Where the law makes two kinds of money to be currency of
which one is worse than the other, the worse kind always tends
tf) drive the better kind out of circulation and out of the hands
of the people. So long as the quantity of thv worse currency
is quite limited the great inconvenience of having too little cur-
rency of either kind may check this natural tendency, keeping
some of the better currency in circulation, temporarily. But
the tendency is at work all the time, and when the quantity of
the worst money is increased enough to fill tJie natural chan-
nels of trade all the good money goes away. This also is but
nature and common sense. Let any man ask himself; suppose
he were going to buy a |10 coat with two kinds of money in
his pocket, one kind commercially worth 25 per cent, more
than the other, while the law empowered him to force the mer-
chant to take 10 of either kind as |10. He also knows that
there is a money broker whom he can reach, who will give him
twelve of the meaner dollars for ten of his better kind. What
will he be inclined to do? Of course, he will keep back the
better dollars and force the merchant to take the meaner ones;
he gains $2 by it. Such is exactly rlie position of all money
dealers in financial centers. They find that they can make a
Bland dollar, by virtue of bad law, buy a gold dollar's worth
inside the L'nited States, while outside it will pay only 75
cents. Of course then, whenever they have money to pay in
Europe, India, China, or Australia, they are going to send gold
money to pay it, while they keep the meaner silver money to
])ut off on their fellow citizens. The tendency is as inevitable
THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. 347
as an}' other law of nature. Let free coinage go on and sooner
or later the last American gold coin will go out of American
circulation.
Fact^ prove this. Between 179- and 18,34 silver had
cheapened a little in the commercial markets of the world. At
the later date a gold eagle (|lUj sold for |1().05 in silver. This
was an appreciation of a little over six per cent.; the conse-
quence was that all the gold coinage jf the United States went
entirely out of circulation among the people. There was noth-
ing but silver, bank notes, and wretched shin j»lasters. One
might as well have looked for feathers from angels" wings in
the hands of the people as for the gold coins of their own gov-
ernment. Congress saw the necessity of restoring commercial
equality of value between its silver dollars and its gold ones.
It effected this by the law of 1831, which reduced the quantity
of virgin metal in the grold eagle from 217 1-2 grains to 232
grains, or a'bout six per cent. Then their gold imoney began to
stay and circulate at home. Now if a difference of six per cent,
in value sent all our gold coin out of circulation, what will a
difference of 25 per cent, do? It must, for the stronger reason,
banish all our gold. Circumstances may delay the tlow; they
cannot stop it linall}-. The tendency in this law of currency is
as infallible as the tendency of rivers to run down hill. A dam
across a stream may check the current until the pond is full:
then it continues to run down hill as before.
I have now reached the place to signalize the dhshonesty
of the jockey "catch-word," the dollar of our daddies. This
claim should mean, were it not a contemptible fraud, that the
fathers of the government committed themselves for all time
to a dollar of 371 grains, irrespective of tluctuatious in the rela-
tive price of silver. But this is precisely what they never did.
Their example to us was to make a silver dollar equal in com-
mercial value to their gold dollar and to anake whatever
changes afterwards might be needed to keep them equal, ^\lly
did they put just 371 grains of pure silver into their standard
dollar in 171)2? See Hamilton, Jetferson and Gallatin. Be-
cause 15 ounces of silver would then buy 1 ounce of gold, at
which ratio the 371 grains of silver exactly equaled in value
the tenth part of 217 1-2 grains of gold allotted to the gold
dollar. In 1831. when silver had fallen so that it took IP;
348 THE DOLLAll 0¥ THE DADDIES.
ounces to buy au ounce of gold, the fathers recognized the need
and duty of making a change in the coinage to equalize the two
kinds. This they did by lightening the gold coin 6 per cent. If
the silver men now are not trying to cheat the people, by this
chiini of the fathers' precedent, let them do what their fathers
did, equalize the two kinds of dollars. If those fathers wiere
here now they would effect this by putting one-fourth more
silver into the standard dollar. Not by taking one-fourth of
the gold out of the gold dollar. Because they would have sense
enough to know that such a sudden and wide leap downwards
in the value of botli dollars would be ruin; it would be a gii.-
gantic theft upon the government and upon every creditor of
the gjvernment, or of individual Americans throughout the
world, and would make a financial convulsion which woudd
strew the country with bankruptcies. The other consequence
of a double standard, when the relative value of silver to gold
has changed, is a moral one. If the government does not read-
just its two kinds of dollars by recoinage, it becomes guilty of
wickedness. This is the wickedness of using itself, and enabling
the citizens to use. divert and false measures in buying and
selling. The function of money is to be the instrument of ex-
changes between commodities. In doing this the money be-
comes the temporary measure of value. When the government
makes two kinds of dollars, one more valuable by a fourth part
than the other, and by law empowers the buyer to force the
meaner sort of dollars on the seller, as equal to the better sort;
this is precisely as though the law should authorize cloth mer-
chants to keep two yard-sticks, one 36 inches long, to buy with,
and one 27 inches long, to sell with, and force the people to call
them both full yards. In dry goods trade this would be simple
rascality: why is it not the same in currency? This is the
wickedness forbidden in God's law. Deut. 25: 'Tliou shalt not
have in thy liag divers weights, a great and a small. Thou
ishalt not have in thine house divers measures, a great and a
small.'' Hence it is the imperious moral duty of every gov-
ernment which chooses the double standard to make and to
keep all its kinds of dollars of equal, and of unifonm and sta-
ble value, to the best of its ability. If it does not try to do this,
it is a thief and an abettor of thieving in its citizens.
I have now described the two great evils which attend the
TFt« bOLtAR 0^ TFIE tiADDtES. 34^
plan of rlie double standai-d when rlic relative^ value of ihe
metals has changed. The only honest remedy is the reeoinage
of all the money which the government has made out of one
or the other metal. But this remedy is terribly expensive and
inconvenient. I will now explain this by supposing the remedy
applied to the present "Bland dollars." Let us say there are
now 300,000,000 of them. First, 104 grains of pure silver has
to be put into every one of these dollars to make them honest.
This would require about 64,000,000 ounces of silver; whieh.
would cost at this time about 160,000,000 in gold. Who is to
pay for this? The government, of course. It has no money
except by taxing the people. That is, the hard pressed tax
payers must buy it. The meaning of which is that, were this
false coinage raised to 100 cents values now the people must
be gouged sixty millions to pay for the blunders which Con-
gress has perpetrated under the advice of these silver men..
But this is not all. All the silver coins in the use of the peo-
ple anust be sent back to the mints, to be made over again and
made honest. This will be several months' work. In the mean-
time what are the people to do for silver change? What a
tremendous spasm in business we shall have here! At this
point some thoughtless person is going to say, "This spasm
can be avoided by calling back to the mints for recoinage only
small installments at one time of the silver monej' in the peo-
ple's hands." Nay. we are not out of the woods yet! The
small installments of the full-weight, new coins must ible
thrown into circulation as fast as they are manufactured; else
this plan does nothing. But take notice: the community now
has two kinds of silver money, a better and a worse; and
Gresham's law immediately ibegins to work against the better
kind. The money brokers will take out of circulation the good
new dollars, nearly as fast as the mint throws them in; so the
agony will be prolonged. English history tells us how power-
fully this influence obstructed the new coinage at the end of
the seventeenth century, in spite of the honest administration
of William and Mary and the transcendant talents of the mint-
master, who was no other than Sir. I. Newton.
But if these things would be done in the green tree, what
would be done in the dry? Suppose that we had the free coin-
age of silver into Bland dollars, which many clamor for! Gold
3oO THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES.
would h;^ diiveii fi-oiii us iu all purchases and payniouts just
as fast as llie miuts could coin the silvei-; and when the volume
of the latter became large enough to relieve the check on gold
exports, operated by the stringency of a deficient currency, the
last of our gold would go. Who would be fool enough to pay
gold for any purchase or debt when law enabled him ta gain
25 per cent, b^' paying in silver? Let us suppose a debtor ow-
ing |1,000, who has provided a thousand gold dollars, or goods
equal thereto, wherewith to pay; he has only to use this gold
instead of letting his creditors have, it, to buy silver buliiou
and to send it to a mint where the United States will make 'it
into Bland dollars for him, without even charging him ihc
slight toll of a seignorage; and he wipes off his |1,000 debt ;;nd
has |2o0 silver dollars left in his pocket; of course he will io
this. Of course, every other debtor will do the same. Nobody
will receive any gold for any purchase or debt. It will prac-
tically cease to be American money. Thoughtless people say,
let us have free coinage of silver in order to have money
plenty*. It is the very way to make money scarce, for it will
drive away all our gold, which will not only take out .f05(»,()00,-
000 of American gold now existing, but it will dry up all that
vaster volume of credits now doing money's work, founded on
that gold.
But the silver men claim that silver is not really depi-e-
ciated in the world's commercial market. They assert that the
enormous depression on its price is the wicked work of the
'^gold bugs'' in passing the law of the single standard in 1873,
and of Germany in adopting the single standard, thus forcing
France to do the same. They claim that if the United States
will adopt free coinage, and especially if she could persuade
the European nations to return to the double standard, the
event would show it, and silver would mount up again to the
good old price of KJ for 1. Sound financiers know that this is
all idle and false. Silver will never return to its former rela-
tive value in a century, because its decline has not been due
to any legislative acts in either Europe or America, but to an
enormous increase of production and partial diminution of de-
mand. In the first place, if the United States could persuade
the European nations to come back to the double standard
this would not increase the general demand for silver for cir-
tMe Collar of tWe da^Dies; '551
eiilatiau, hut ratlun' diminish it; for I have shown rhai tlie
countries of the single standard ciicuhite much more silvei-
per capita than the United States, wliich has the double stand-
ard. In the next place, the United iStates never will persuade
the European nations to adopt our bad system of currency.
Their statesmen are not such fools. Their Parliaments are lot
cursed with "silver lobbies," where private producers of the
siher crop have their hired agents to cause the government to
"bull" the price of their special crop at the expense of all other
honest producers. Some of those Parliameuts may have
"Houses of Peers"; but they are not infested with oligarchs
carrying mining camps in their pockets as their rotten bor-
oughs under the name and pretext of sovereign States. They
may send commissioners to Paris and Berlin, highly paid at the
people's expense, to ventilate their sophisms before the Euro-
pean financiers; it will result in nothing. Such commission-
ers have already been sent and they were heard with civil con-
tempt, as they deserved.*
\Yhen we learn the simple facts as to the amazing change
in the annual volume of the silver crop we see plainly enough
why it has become and will remain much cheaper. Xew and
\ery rich lodes of ore have been discovered like the famous
Comstock mine. Chemistry has improved the methods of ex-
tracting the metal. Old mines have been reopened as railroads
and industrial enterprises are extended. Twenty years ago the
annual crop of the United States and territories was about
nineteen millions of ounces. It is now one hundred and sixty-
one millions. ^Yhat else can result from this enormous in-
crease in the crop than a marked decline in relative price? Last
3'ea.r the American crop of cotton increased from about seven
and a quarter millions of bales to eight million and six hun-
dred thousand. This knocks the i)rice down from ten to eiglit
cents per pound. Here the increase was less than one-sixth,
and it made the price fall one-fifth. But the increase in the
silver crop has been eight-fold, not seventeen per cent., but
eight hundred per cent! "Oh, but," exclaim the silver m,en.
"the area of commerce and civilization is rapidly increasing;
and with it the demands for silver for currency and the arts."
*This prophecy is fulfilled by the failure of the recent Brussels conference.
352 THE Dollar of the daddies.
I reply, so the uses af cotton and the world's market for cot-
ton fabrics are annually extending. Has the area of commerce
been extended eight hundred per cent, in twenty years? This
at least would be necessary in order to absorb the eight-fold
silver crop, if the other elements of demand remain as before.
I>ut the}' have not. The demand for silver has relatively de-
clined in several respects. As to the arts: There are more
people now than twent}- years ago who think they are rich
enough to use plate on their tables instead of earthenware?
Yes, but the cheap process of electrotyping has been invented
and the people use a hundred times as much of these wares.
Again, the methods of traffic in India, China and Japan, wi'th
their six hundred millions of industrial people, are changing,
so as to employ relatively less silver and more gold, and bank
credits. The Chinese and Japanese have long employed silver
as their chief money of commerce. But since the opening of
their ports a large part of the trade has passed into the hands
of Europeans, whose money of commerce is almost exclusively
gold and bank credits. When India was governed by its na-
tive princes, the uncertaintj' and rapacity of their exactions
under the name of taxes had farmed an almost universal habit
among the people of annually hoarding, secreting and burying
their savings in the form of silver coins. But now the British
have governed India for a generation. The}' are conquerors;
but the Hindoos have had time to learn that if masters, they
are wise and systematic masters. Official abuses are sternly
punished. Assessments and taxes, if heavy, are regular. The
people have learned that there is no occasion to secrete or 'bury
their riches. The silver coins, which they are able to save,
need no longer be buried in the cow yard, but can be carried
to the savings bank, where they will earn some interest. Thus
they are returned at once into the circulation. The result of
this change has been the closing of a species of gulf into which
an annual stream of millions of European and Spanish-Ameri-
can silver used to flow, to reappear no more for a life time.
(Much, indeed, never reappeared, because the secret of the hid-
ing places died with the owners). This stream is now turned
back into circulation and speedily makes its presence felt in
the Western world by reason of the close commercial relations
between India and Europe and America.
T^E DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES 35^
For tliese and other reasons, it is evident that the old re-
lation of snpply and demand in the silver market is perma-
nently changed. An ounce of gold will never again be bought
for less than twenty ounces of silver. The best proof of this
is that the fraudulent and unwise efforts of the Congress to
''bull" the silver market by its coinage laws of 1878 and 1890
have been ridiculous failures. All they effected was a small
spurt In the price of silver for a few weeks. It quickly dropped
to its fixed price of about a dollar per ounce (of 48(1 grains.)*
At this rate the standard dollar of 371 grains, is really worth
78 8-8 cents. It will never be worth more. All laws of Con-
gress that it shall be, are as futile as' a law that a pound of iron
shall be worth a pound of copper, or as the pope's bull against
the comet.
*The ounce of silver has since declined obstinately to 84 cents.
ECONOMIC EFFECTS OF THE FORMER LABOR
SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN UNTIED
STATES.
1894.
Tlie fiiriu-c iiuisr learn diietly from the experieuce of the
past. There is no truth better established in science, than this:
That every fact and every law may have future value from,
some useful application, perhaps wholly unforeseen. The wise
scientific man. therefore, carefulh' stores up every authentic
discovery, like the experienced housholder; in the confidence
that it will be useful at a future day, though now apparently
useless. The circumstance that this fact formerly existed in
conditions not likely to be ever again exactly renewed, does by
no means show it valueless. It may prove a valuable guide
under new and unexpected conditions.
The labor-system o'f the South before A. D. I860, is a thing
of the past. Xearly a generation has lived since it was abolish-
ed. It is time that the political emotions which once associated
themselves with it were quieted. This seems a suitable season,
therefore, after the smoke of contest has evaporated, and yet,
before the data and the witnesses for the investigation have
perished, to ascertain its real economic effects.
This inquiry should 'be kept carefully separate from the
social and the moral questions touching that system of labor.
It is fully assumed, that wealth is not the only end, nor the
highest end, which a commonwealth or a nation should pursue.
The truth, that a given social system is the most lucrative does
not prove it unjust. The single point to be pursued in this in-
quiry is: What really were the economic results of the sys-
tem which has passed away? And this point is sought onh'
for the light it is capable of shedding on future economic prob-
354
i^ORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 355
lems, vvhicii may meet our poster! ty. Of course, science looks
ouly at premises and conclusions, considering- only whether
the former are ?:rounded in authentic facts; and the latter are
logically drawn. The inquirer has nothing to do with precon-
ceptions and inclinations, for or against the system examined.
The main premises of any valuable conclusions here, are tlie
facts. Theories and hypotheses are of nj account, in the face
of the facts. The chief reliance must be upon the actual re-
sults, as revealed by the authorized statistics of labor and pro-
duction. And these will be found to demonstrate, when exam-
ined from the various points of view, a cumulative proof, that
the Southern labor-systenr was comparatively much the more
productive of wealth and accumulated capital.
It may be well to define clearly in the outset, what that
labor-system was, commonly known as domestic slavery of Af-
ricans. He who persists in viewing and treating it as virtually
the same with the system which bore the equivalent name in
pagan Greece and Rome, cannot possibly understand what the
ir^outhern sj'stem reall}' was. It may be true that ''Aristotle"
(Politics) "can be quoted, defining a Sofhi- or slave as jpf/zo
i/zi/'ivvi' "^'11 animated utensil '; or that modern assailants
may declare the African in the South was made by law "a
mere thing,-' "a chattel." But every fair observer knows that
in the South, essential changes from that unjust and harsh sys-
tem were made by Iaw% which, while for convenience sake,
leaving the name of slave, made the relation to the master es-
sentially a different one. So far did the laws of the South go
from treating the African in 'bondage as a mere thing, owned
by the master absolutely; those laws treated the bondsman as
a responsible moral aj?ent, personally amenable to statute
laws, and encouraged and warned by its sanctions: they pro-
tected his life, limbs, Sabbath and chastity, against violenae
even from his own master: and that by the same statutes, and
the same penalties which protected these rights of white per-
sons: they gave to the bondman a legal title, as against his.
own master's estate, and even against his master's personal
earnings or professional salary, to a laboring man's subsist-
ence for life: the}' enabled him, if not legally held in constraint,
to sue his own master at the law, for his liberty. What then
remained to the master, of the prerogatives of a master? This
356 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTH KRN U. S.
only: Property in the involuntary labor of the African, for
life, subject to the bondsman's right of subsistence, and such
control of his person and services only as was necessary to
possess that title. The Constitution of the United States, the
supreme law of the land, and the work of the greatest jurists
and statesmen of America, has cut off all debate as to how'
much and how little was lawfully meant by the relation, in
giving us an exact definition, in words perfectly clear-cut and
appropriate. These Africans were described as, '-Persons held
to labor or service in any t^tate" (meaning: so held by regular
law of that State).
So, Sir William Blackstone defined the bondage which ex-
isted in his day (notwithstanding Lord Mansfield's famous de-
cision in the Somerset case), by law in England and all her
f'olonies. as a title to another person's involuntary labor, which,
while a title for life, was no more in its nature, than that of the
master to the labor of his indentured apprentice. So Dr. Paley,
in his moral and political philosophy. AVe have nothing to do
then, with discussing the economic results of a pagan system
of slavery, never known for a moment in civilized America,
which dehumanized the rational human agent into a "thing
a mere ''chattel." The system we have to examine was as a
labor system; the subjection of the labor, for life, of a certain
alien and savage population defined by the law, irrespective
of their optional consent, to the heads of white, free families,
in a domestic government of the master; but under the limits
and restraints of civil law. What were the economic results
of this vigorous expedient, to which the Southern States re-
sorted in order to protect themselves from the evils of the
presence of this savage population? A presence which had
not been elected by those States, but forced on them, wlijile
colonies, against their choice, by the slave trading laws of
England and Xew England. Let the reader observe in pass-
ing that nothing more is needed than this correct definitiou of
the relation, to make an end of the boastful argument of th^e
Abolitionist. He argues that the relation was always and es-
sentially wicked. The only premise which can furnish even a
pretence for this conclusion is the following: That any hu-
man being's i)roperty in the involuntary labor of another hu
man must be always and essentially wicked. But when this
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 357
is dragfjed into the light, its falsehood at ouce appears both;
monstrous and ridiculous. The parental relation clothes the
parent with property in the involuntary labor of the child.
The business relation clothes the employer with property in
the involuntary labor of the apprentice. The marital relation
may clothe the wife with property in th» involuntary labor of
the husband. There is not a legitimate government on earth
that does not clothe the rulers with property in the involun-
tary labor of the citizens. What else is the right to tax, to
exact military service? Thus this heady argument, which has
incited to a frightful civil war, to the murder of a million of
men and to the final destruction of a free constitution, is fjund
to be nothing but the blind pressing of a false issue. The evil
thing which Abolitionism professed to attack had no existence
except in its own slanderous accusations.
Another caution must be observed, in a fair examination
of this question. The productiveness of a given system may
be partly determined by the features of the system itself; and
partly by the personal traits of the people managed under it;
as the eflficiency of a given army in the field depends partly on
the system of arming and drill, and partly on the "personnel"
and morale of the race from which the ranks are filled. Now,
a la'bor-system, as such, should not be held responsible for the
initial state of barbarity, ignorance, laziness, ineptness, and
general unthrift, of the persons first delivered to it to be by it
employed.
The necessity of employing such instruments as the savage
Africans were, may have prejudiced the results of a better
labor-system in -a comparison with some worse system, which
has the good fortune to employ civilized, etficient, trained la-
bor at the outset. And if the former, in spite of this disad-
vantage, yet produce large results, while it improved the la-
bor and morale of its sorry instruments: this would be, to the
thoughtful mind, the most splendid evidence of its efficiency as
a system.
A verv slight acquaintance with the science of economics
teaches, that little can be learned by a general and cursory view
of societies and comparison of their aspects. Yet many have
argued that the Southern labor-system must be eeonomicallj
h"(^ because they found more of the surface a])pearnn('es of
8p8 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
wealth, in the Euvope and America of tbe nineteenth century,
as large cities, splendid mansions, lavish expenditures, and
princely incomes, in hireling; societies than in slaveholding;
more in England than in Jamaica; or more in New York than
in Virginia. But several facts must be remembered: of which
one is: That in modern times, the slave-holding societies, in
every case, had been made, in one way or another, industrially
tributary to the hireling. The West-Indian and South Ameri-
can settlements were colonies to Great Britain, France, Spain,
Portugal, Denmark, or Holland; and their industries were by
law subjected to restrictive systems, designed to transfer a
large part of their earnings to the home traders. The South-
ern States, between the end of the revolutionary war and 1789,
the admitted leaders in wealth and progress, no sooner entered
the Federal Fnion. than their industries also were made tribu-
tary, by bounty, navigation, tariff, and financial enactments of
Congress, to their hir(^ling-labor partners. Thus, there has
been no example, not injuriously meddled with, by which it
could be shown how profitable the Southern system would be
when it had a fair chance? It can never be determined which
of two hives of bees is most productive in honey-making while
the bees of one hive are regularly empowered to rifle every re-
turning worker of the other hive, of a part of his sweets. Both
the tendencies of the hireling cammunities in America, and of
the Federal policy towards those States, were more favorable
than the Southern system to gathering a larger portion of
their people into towns. But any populous town, whatever the
goodness or badness of its labor-system, tends to stimulate
ornamental agriculture around its suburbs. One only of the
influences need (be mentioned. Most Americans, when enriched
by traffic, vehemently desire the amusements and boast of an
ornamented, suburban farm, or villa. The products of these,
evoked by lavish outlay of labor and manure, never equal their
cost. Probably every ton of hay from the model farm has cost
tlie price of a ton and a half to produce it; every boasted pound
of golden butter has cost two pounds. But now. while these
lavish toys of "merchant princes" spread a pleasing zone of
culture and apparent fertility around each pompous city, they
are in no sense productive industry: no more so than the lemons
which the lady-wives have ripened in their conservatories, at
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S, 359
the cost of a dollar for each lemon, worth half a dime. The
more any society has of these toy-farms, the more is its ag-
gregate wealth wasted. If the admiring tourist would go to
the more retired parts of the regions tributary to this city, he
would soon see, in the "nakedness of the land." or in the hard-
ships of its poor, the proof of that proposition. But as it is,
the European abserves, landing at Boston, and journeying
thence to Marblehead, to Xew Providence, to New Haven, to
Xew York, to Newark, to New Brunswick, to Elizabeth, to
Trenton, to Philadelphia, to Chester, to Wilmington (Dela-
ware), scarcely gets out of one artificial suburban or zone, un-
til he enters another. He leaps to the conclusion, that these
hireling States are all in a state of splendid prosperity. Should
he then continue his journey past Baltimore, to Washington,
to Richmond, and the farther Southern iStates, the Atlantic
border so expands itself in its geographical configuration, in-
stead of the crowded convexity of the region he has passed
over, and the cities are so few and small, that the bare spaces
of the unadorned continent appear largely. Each Southern
city has also its zone of fictitious wealth; but they are far apart:
the eye of the unfriendly tourist prefers to rest on the poorer
inter-spaces: he convinces himself that these States are poor.
He has taken but a partial, and therefore a deceptive, view.
Nobody can be blind to the natural differences made by
the Creator, between favored and slighted districts, as to na-
tural soil and climate. Let the alluvial plain of Lombardy be
compared with the bleak sand and pine barrens of old Brand-
enberg: Is there on earth a tougher, more hardy, diligent, sav-
ing peasantry than that of Brandenberg, and is not their farm-
ing guided by the best science in Europe? But all this can
only keep alive on that hungr3- soil, under that harsh climate,
a starveling appearance of tillage, which is pitiful beside the
smiling abundance of the Po alluvium. Here are natural dis-
advantages, which no virtue of any labor-system can equalize
or compensate. Now, it has been said a thousand times: that
the old Atlantic slave States had a great advantage in the na-
tive fertility of their soils; but that these fat fields have been
skinned and impoverished by the 'bad system of labor. Both
parts of this statement have always been simply false. The
lands which, in Virginia and the Carolinas, showed poverty in
360 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. 8.
1860, had always been poor. They had never been made poor,
but were born poor. The uphmds of the old Atlantic water-
shed, which are the vastly larger part of that area, are natural-
ly thin and barren at their Northern, and their Southern ends.
They were poor in New England. The part embraced in the
old Middle States, from the Hudson to the Potomac, were na-
turally the best. In Virginia they began to deteriorate, and
the natural average became worse and worse, as they ap-
proached the Gulf. Florida being the poorest of all. In the
one great Illinois bottom oppo.site St. Louis and Southern Mis-
souri, there is more fertile mould than nature ever gave to all
Eastern Virginia, or either Carolina. When the really rich
virgin soils of the great Mississippi valley were opened to cul-
tivation, the new States had an advantage for production and
the accumulation of capital, which statistics can hardly ex-
press. How ought that industry, which yields fifty or sixty-
bushels of maize per acre, without manure, to outrun that
which, with the same labor of cultivation, yields, without ma-
nure, ten bushels? Such was and is the virgin strength of the
larger part of the upland area of the old Southern States. Sd
far as any criterion could be found, of the relative advantage
of the Southern System, from observing the face of the coun-
try, the simple facts were, in 1860, these: The African labor
was holding its place as the preferable labor, in every district
of every Southern State where it had ever had foothold, be-
sides extensive and profitable emigration to new regions. It'
was steadily making its way into those fertile parts of the
Southern States once tilled by white, hireling labor; because
found practically more profitable. The whole area of the old
South was in a rapid and splendid state of reparation and im-
provement: even the thin land described, which never had any
fertility to lose, coming rapidly up to profitable tillage. And
I he few bauds and islets of really strong land presented, in
1S60. the most magnificent tillage and the largest crops seen in
any of the old States.
Let it be distinctly understood, that these general views
are not advanced as the conclusive prjofs of the good results
of the system. That proof will be given below, in the authen-
tic testimony of the government itself, and in solid facts of-
ficially attested. The objects of the above views are simply
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 361
preliminary: to clear away from the reader's iniud presumptive
impressions against the truth: to rebut by more accurate and
impartial views, the prejudices excited against the witness we
are about to introduce, through false first impressions. One of
these impressions, much relied on. is the appearance of exten-
sive exhausted fields in the South. It has been unhesitatingly
claimed that slavery was the cause; that an exhausting cultiva-
tion is the proof of its bad economic etfeet. The one answer
has been already given: that many of these lands could not
justly be said to be exhausted by any cause, inasmuch, they
were naturally so poor as to have almost no fertility to lose.
But there were districts in the South which, before the splen-
did recuperation of 1845-1860, effectuated under slave labor,
had been in an exhausted condition.
Now if the same result be found in several other districts
where slavery never existed, the argument is ruined. The same
result has. in fact, been found in every district of America,
where these two circumstances concurred; the possession of a
profitable staple saleable in large quantities, and sufticiemt
proximity to market. In any country, and under ever}" system
of labor, if new land is cheaply accessible, this result follows
tsee John Stewart Mill. Political Economy. Book I. chaptei'
12 ». The profitable staple tempts the first generation of land-
owners to exhausting cultivation. They su}»pose that it is more
gainful to exhaust the land, and take up other fields new and
cheap, than to manure the old. This cause has regularly pro-
duced exhaustion in the hireling States, as in the South. Thus
ninety years ago. New England farmers went to the calcar-
eous lands of Vermont to raise wheat. They pressed their
gainful staple, but exhausted their soil. To-day those old
wheat farms are sheep pastures, and the shepherds scarcely
raise their own flour. Fifty years ago the second generation
of these Vermont wheat growers emigrated from their exhaust-
ed farms to the (renesee country of West New V ti-k to raise
wheat. They reaped forty bushels per acre, from the virgin
soil; but they pressed the skinning process, until the average
product fell below twelve bushels per acre. Then the next'
generation went to Ohio, and skinned the apparently exhaust-
less lands of that State, the boast of this school of economists:
until the remorseless truthfulness of census-returns showed,
362 FuKMER LABUR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
that Oliio was yielding an average of only eight and a half
bushels. And naw the fourth generation are skinning the fat
prairies of Iowa and Nebraska. Another argument has been
flaimed from the recuperation of production within the last
twenty years in the subjugated States. The exclamation is:
Behold here, what the South gains 'by getting rid of her bad
economic system of labor. Some SDUtherners even, have been
shallow enough to echo it; because, poor fellows, they had
been so accustomed, for the first fifteen years of their subjuga-
tion, to desperate poverty and hopelessly unremunerated ef-
fort, that any degree of increase boks splendid in their eyes:
blinded to the past by the tears of despair. The latter, partial
return of progress in production is. indeed, a magnificent tes-
timony to the temper and pluck of the ex-slaveholders: in that
under a system sj adverse as the present they could ever restore
any progress at all. But we meet with a flat denial, the as-
sertion that industrial progress, and tlie growth of new capital
now^ presents any such comparative ratio to that of the old sys-
tem, as to prove the supposed point. Between 1840 and 1860,
Virginia, an old State pursuing mainly other staples than
wheat, increased her wheat crop from ten to thirteen million
bushels, and her tobacco from fifty-six to one hundred and
twenty-four millions of pounds I This progress was under her
old system of labor. Her wheat and t3bacco crops up to 1880,
under the new system, were restored only to: wheat, 7,826,174
bushels, and tobacco, 79,988,868 pounds. Only one other fact
is necessary. Between 1850 and 1860 the cotton crdj). pecu-
liarly and exclusively the product of the Southern system, grew
fr3m two and a half million bales, to five and a half millions:
an increase of 110 per cent, in ten years. Let it now be remem-
bered that in 1860 the cotton raising States had but seven and
a half millions of people. Xow they have about seventeen mil-
lions.
But since 1860, thirty years ago, this larger population,
under hireling labor, has only raised the crop of 1894 ta ten
million bales. A phenomenal crop? Here is progress: progress
gratifying to a conquered and despoiled people: but it is a
sorry showing as compared with that of the aid system. Leav-
ing out the years of the war, a similar ratio of progress would
have given us in 1894 fiftv-two millions of bales instead of the
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN" U. S. 363
actual ten iiiillioii. This calciilatiou, of course, discounts the re-
pressive power of au overstocked market. No economist chiims
for the sratisrics of a census, entire accuracy. But it is pre-
sumable tliar omissions and inaccuracies virtually balance
each other, when a comparative view is carefully deduced be-
tween two sections. If, for instance, our appraisement of the
cash value of a given product which is reported in bushels or
tons, should be somewhat too low, or too high, no comparative
error results, because that product in both sections has been
appraised at the same price: so that the one section gains or
loses by any possible error of price, precisely in proportion to
the other. But in all important particulars, the advantage in
the following estimates has been intentionally given to the hire-
ling States. The two following instances will explain this. The
wheat crops are given in bushels. It is well known to mer-
chants, that the average price of a bushel of Southern wheat
was considerably" more, in any year, than of the Northwestern
wheat, which furnishes always the main bulk of that crop in
the hireling States: because it comes into an earlier market,
because it is more flinty and mature, and thus makes a flour
worth often half as much again for export, and because the
Southern crop includes no spring wheat; always inferior to
the winter wheat. Yet, in estimating the value of wheat, both
in 1850 and 18G(), the same price was allowed for all Northern,
as for Southern wheat. Thus the advantage of many millions
of dollars was allowed to the hireling system. The other in-
stance is our unquestioning acceptance of the census-estimates
of personal property at the North.
The nature of Northern pursuits has unquestionably pro-
duced a vastly larger development of that class of so-called val-
ues, known as credits, or securities, at the North, than at the
South. These credits are named as personal property: art^ sub-
ject to taxation and are always counted by men in estimating
their wealth. They are. of course, listed as personal property
by the census, and by the tax assessor, except that enormous
fortune concealed by fraud.
But many of them are not values. When the capital stock
of a railroad, which actually expended nni millions in its plant,
is swelled by ''watering" to twenty millions, however these fic-
titious shares may sell, or may pay dividends, they represent
364 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
110 real values: tliey are only an artifice for levying a gratuitous
lien, and exacting a roibber tax on all the real industry wliicli
seeks transportation on the road. When an owner of real es-
tate sells land on credit and takes the purchaser's bond no
value is created by that transaction, ^yas the land worth ten
thousand dollars? There is now the land, taxable in the pur-
chaser's hands at ten thousand dollars of value: and there is
the bond, taxable in the vendor's hands, as another ten thou-
sand. Each man counts the amount. The tax-assessor counts
it twice; but not a dollar of value exists, as yet, beyond the
ten thousand. Those who argue the reality of the fictitious,
credit value, ask: Is this bond worth nothing to the holder?
■Cannot it be sold at par, if secured by mortgage on the land?
Sued for? Bequeathed? Surely it is a real value! But the
stubborn answer is: Whence has any real value been created?
The land, the only original value, is now in the purchaser's
hand: and clearly value can not be created by exchanging a
piece of paper. The explanation which these economists over-
look is very simple. There are rights, which may grow into
values only. But rights may be sold, bequeathed, held by law.
When a great commercial crash comes, like that of 1873, this
species of wealth vanishes by hundreds of millions. How is
this? There is no way in which actual values have been used
or consumed, no fire, flood, shipwreck, w^ar exportation, de-
vouring of an3'thing. Literally no process of consumption of
values known to political economy has taken place; but sud-
denly thousands of people are poorer by millions. The ex-
planation is, that the credits destroyed by the ''panic'' never had
been aetual, but only potential values. They never actually
existed as values: no value has been actually destroyed. The
only diminution of real values or wealth which the panic has
caused is the depreciation of prices of such possessions as are
real commodities.
Now, in the appraisement of values, it is notorious that
the lists of the hireling States contained many- more hundreds
of millions of credits than those of the Southern States. These
States were mainly agricultural; their trading towns were
i-clativelyfew and small ;and the species of "business" so-called,
and speculations, by which these credits are nominally inflated,
were comparatively unknown among them up to 1860. But
I'ORMeII LAfeOi? SYSTEM Oi' tHE SOUTHERN tJ. 8. M^
we have made no deduction against the hireling States on rlii^i
ground: a large advantage has been all awed them in the com
parison. Before 185(1, the census returns had scarcely been
taken on so comprehensive, or digested on so scientific a scale,
as to make their testimony decisive. After 18(50 the Southern
system no more had any existence during a census year. Hence
our comparisons are justly limited to the years 1850 and 18(30:
and these are enough. The testimony of the government it-
self, then is as follows.
In 1850 the total appraised values of the Southern States
were |2,900,604,589 to 9,318,924 total population; subtracting
3.201,818 slaves: (),118,921 whites. If this aggregate were di-
vided among the whites per capita, it would give possessions
averaging |472 per head to the whites. Or if it be insisted that
the negroes shall be counted among the population, we had
|810 per head for white and black. Or, else: if we yield to (un-
fair) assertion that, in this comparison, the property in the la-
bor of slaves shall not count for anything: we then deduct the
whole, appraising all, men, women, children, and decrepit at
|250 per head, which is a high estimate for 1850; and we have
left a property of |355 per soul for each Southerner. In 1850
the hireling States had thirteen and a half millions of souls,
and the appraised possessions of all kinds were |3,621,011,661.
Each soul then had an average of |270. This gives the super-
ior riches to the fc?outh, by |85 per head, if we strip the South-
erners of all property in the labor of the Africans; although
hundreds of millions of dollars of actually realized and paid
up capital had been paid by them for that species of property.
If the Africans are counted as property, then the average South-
erner was richer by |202. In 18()0 the Soutli had twelve mil-
lions of people, includiug not cpiite four millions of Africans.
Her appraised values were |(J,74(>,34:i,T(;i, an increase of more
than double in ten years. The liireling States with eighteen
and four-fifths millions of souls, presented a total of |9,257,9G4,-
000, The North had received from foreign emigrations an an-
nual accession of several hundred thousand people more than
the South, estimated to have brought them, besides their per-
sons and labor, an average of |1,000 each in cash. Still the
relative major wealth was with the South; each white soul
having 1831, as against |490 to each soul in the North. Or,
366 FORMEK LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN tT. g.
if file unfair dediu-rioiis be insisted on. of all propei'ty in the
labor of the Africans, eaeh ir^outherner still had $637, as against
the Northern average of |490 per head. And the deduction is
here made at the liberal rate of |400 for each soul of the Afri-
cans, their market value having risen in ten years. Or, if the
division of the Sauthern total be made between the whole pop-
ulation, including all the Africans, there was still an average
of 1560 per head, against |490 at the North.
Or, let another view be inspected. In 1860 the hireling
States reared of the cereals used by Americans as human food,
five hundred and sixty-one millions of bushels, and the South-
ern vStates four hundred and ninety-four millions. That is, the
hireling system gave each of its sauls about thirty bushels; but
the Southern system gave each of its souls forty-one bushels.
Moreover, the hireling States boasted in these cereals as their
great export crops. But the South, after feeding every one of
her souls one-fourth more liberally than the hireling States,
must have had proportional surplus for export, besides her
magnificent totals of cotton and tobacco I Again, of the do-
mestic animals used hj Americans as human food (horned cat-
tle, sheep and swine) the hireling States had in 1860 about forty
millions, or a little more than two per soul for each inhabitant:
While the South had forty and a half millions, or about three
and a half for each inhabitant. But, as the flesh of swine is
so predominant in the food of laboring Americans, it will be
interesting to see the proportions here. The hireling States
had not quite twelve millions of swine; while the South had
twenty millions six hundred thousand. The hireling system
gave each mouth a little more than six-tenths of one swine per
annum; while the Southern system gave each mouth one whole
swine and seven-tenths of a second.. But this does not tell the
whole story. A part of the hireling States were very large ex-
porters of pork. Sundry of the Southern States were, on the
contrary, large importers: and none of them sent away any ap-
preciable export of it. So that the laboring people of the hire-
ling States must have been dejtrived by export of quite a large
portion of their scanty six-tenths of swine per mouth; and the
Southern laborer must have eaten that portion, and all his one
and seven-tenths besides. Yet the cry was: The African was
wronged by being scantily fed! Again, in 1860, the South, with
FORMkK LABOH StStEM of THE SOUTHERN tj. S. ^67
a little iiioi'c than twelve niillious of people, had 8.SiH,7"jr)
horses, asses and iiiules. The hiieliui>- States, with uot quite
nineteen millions of people, had 4,335.240. Once more: the an-
nual earnings of the hireling States, including all the branches
of agriculture, mining and manufactures, and the whole value
of live stock were $08.(37 per head for the whole population in
1850. The same vear, the same industries in the South yielded
as increase fl08.25 for every soul, including the Africans. In
1860, the earnings of the hireling States amounted to only
1101.44 for each soul; but in the S:iuth. to ^111.35 for every
soul, including the Africans. When we multiply this difference
of about 10 per cent, in 1850 and of 16 per cent, in 1860 by the
twelve millions of the Southern people, it makes a huge dif-
ference in the proportional pritits. in favor of the Southern
system. The returns of 1860 also disclose another fact: that
successful manufacturing industries were at that time, by no
means confined to the hireling States. It is true, that the
South was prevalently agricultural: not because its civiliza-
tion, or its labor system was ruder, but because its tastes and
interests drew it by an enlightened intluence, in that direction.
That its agricultural preference was enlightened is demon-
strated by the grand fact, testified by the government itself:
that its profits were larger than those of the other States work-
ing on a sj'stem m )re largely manufacturing.
The South knew what it was about. Yet. there was a very
large development of successful manufacturing industry, of
which the rest of the world was strongly unobservant. Some
times, the instances of this were amusing. In 1864 a ''raid" of
a cavalry detachment into Virginia reiiiulted in the sack of two
or three irDu-snielting establishments in her upper counties. A
metropolitan journal in Xew York thei'eupon congratulated
Mr. Lincoln at this vital reduction of the iron I'esources of the
Confederate government at Richmond, informing the w:irld
that Virginia in 1860 had had six furnaces in ()|»eration: of
whose resources one-third was now extinguislied. In fact, the
one county of Rockbridge in 1860 had more than 12. and the
adjoining c )uiify of Allegany as many! In 18<i2. (xeneral T.
J. Jackson learned that the Confederate war department was
debating tlie policy of so contracting its lines of defense in up-
per Virginia, as to leave out the lower Shenandoah "Valley."
i^6S FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
He re(Hiest-ed ilie ('(»iijii-t'ssiiian. rcinvsenriiiii- tlic rli.srrier in
Riclimoiia. to protest. Tliis gentleiiiau said to the administra-
tion: "Consider what, in such a contraction, you abandon,.
For instance, among- other resources, you abandon, in my con-
gressional district alone, fourteen woolen factories, which pro-
duce clothing and blankets for your army." But the general
returns of the Federal government itself are more valuable.
They say that in I860, the South produced by manufacturing,
values, after deducting the cost of raw materials, to the
amount of about one hundred and eighteen millions. The hire-
ling States produced in the same way, something more than
five hundred and thirty-six millions. The latter had |28.21 of
this sort of vahies. the South |9.64. more than one-third as
much.
Probably, if the question had been asked in 1860, or last
week, of the "well informed'" Northern man or European: ''In
what ratio do you suppose the manufacturing industry of the
great North exceeded that of the South?"' his guess would have
been: "In the ratio of fifty to one."' The boa.st sounds of that
largeness.
The bearing of these attested facts on our argument is not
seen until we consider how the legitimated accumulations of
Southern industry were systematically transferred to the North,
after they were earned, 'by the legislative system of the Federal
government. This levying of commercial tribute on our indus-
try began almost as soon as the government. Washington's first
administration had not ended, before Congress had assumed a
power, of which the makers of the Constitution were not dream-
ing: to incorporate in the territory of State, a mammoth bank
of circulation and discount, which it made its exclusive fiscal
agent. Thus, at one unforeseen touch, the advantage of dis-
bursements and credits founded on the privilege of handling
the assets of the treasury taken by taxation from all the people,
was taken from the South, the payer of the larger taxes, and
given to the North. Then under the pretext of fostering a sea-
faring class for the advantage of the Federal navy, a fishing
bounty was established: the whole of which from the foreseen
force of circumstances, went to the North. For many years
before 1800 this bounty had taken out of the people's taxes a
million and a half annually. Half of this was a simple transfer
Former labor system of tfie southekn, u. s. 360
of rile Southei-u e;n'nin<;s into Xorrlieni pockets. The uexr bur-
(leu was the eiiaetmeut of a navigation law: precluding all
foreign shipping from the coast-carrying trade. It did not suit
the tastes and interests of the Southern people to go largely
into shipbuilding: as was foreseen and intended, the lion's share
of the gains of this monopoly went out of Southern pockets into
Northern. The great bulk of the commodities to be transported
were, up to 1800, of Southern production: the beneficiaries of
the monopoh' of transportation were Northern.
If one is curious to know the scale on which Southern pro-
duction has been taxed by this monopoly, for nearly a hundred
yi^ars, he has only to look into the commercial news of the
jtoi-t of (lalveston. He there sees, every day, freights on South-
ern commodities to Europe from which the navigation laws do
not exclude this competition taken by the European ships for
just half the price cliarged by Northern ships coastwise, where
they are armed with this monopoly — that is to say: On every
product of her industry, which the South desires to send by
water to another American market, she has paid (chiefly io
Northern ships) two freight charges where one was due.
The uext method of depleting our industry was by the more
liberal dispensation of pensions, and moneys for light-houses,
custom-houses, and other Federal buildings, in the North. It
mattered little wlu^her the rolls of \\'ashington':s army in the
tield showed an e(iual number of Virginians and Carolinian
men: at the pension oflfice the Northern revolutionary veterans
always had a grand majority. The edifices built with taxes,
from which the vicinage always manages so pretty a profit,
were plentifully sprinkled Northward: sparce and humble
Southward.
But the gigantic method of transfer of Southern earnings
into Northern pockets is, of course, the protective system, dat-
ting, in its onerous degrees, from about 1<S2(). Every economist
admits the inevitable effect of protective tariffs, to transfer
fj-om the consumer to the manufacturer, a second profit, in ad-
dition to the one fairly altaclitMl to the production, at least
ecjual to the tai'ift" on the commodity. This needs no argument,
[f the j)rotected producer does not actually realize this plunder
from his fellow-citizens, it is only because this consumer is
wronged in this other form, viz: by being forced to buy what
'SIO FOKMKK LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTllEKN V. S
he needs from a man nut (inalitiod t:) produce it as (•liea})lv as
it miglir have been produced elsewhere. One of the confident
arguments of protectionists is: Tliat the system benefits not
only the protected manufacturer, but all the neighboring in-
dustries around him, by diffusing capital and opening markets
for their products. If this is so, then the X jrth has gained, in
the race of comitarative acquisition, gained without earning it
even more than the vast aggregate of additional profits paid on
protected manufactures, consumed in the South. Or, if an at-
tempt be made to estimate the amount of our losses from an-
other i)oinr of view, when we ask: Why does the American
producer demand ])rotection? His answer is: because without
it he can make no profit in the face of European competitors.
If this is just, then it follows, that whatever gains these pro-
tected producers now have, were taken without value received
from consumers! From Southern consumers in that propor-
tion in which they bought tlieir products. Thus, the riches
transferred out of Southern earnings into IS'orthern hands, be-
tween 1820 and ISGO, are seen to be almost beyond computa-
tion. But even this did not measure fairly the losses unjustly
imposed on Southern industry by the protective system. Like
a hasty and reckless forager in an enemy's country, it destroyed
far more than the plunder it carried away. It happened that
the South had. up to I860, two staples especially of vital im-
portance to her, tobacco and cotton, of which vastly the larger
part,< must be sold abroad, or have no purchasers because the
volume of their production was manifold what the United
States needed, or could buy. For instance, in 1860 the single
county of Halifax, Va., and Casewill, N. C, were producing
enough leaf tobacco to supply the consumption of the whole
manufacturing population of the United States. Even of the
5,500,000 bales of cotton made that year, the United States were
able to use only 910,090 bales: less than one-sixth. Now, if a
(See comp. of C. p. 180,) the South was to get a living price for
the rest of these grand staples, foreign nations must buy them.
If foreign nations bought, they must pay in merchandizes use-
ful in the Southern States, for international exchange must be
barter.
For instance: England said to the South, in substance:'
"We desire vour cotton ; if we pay for it in our excellent woolens
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 371
niul ii-()iMH(iiigery, which we ol'iei' cheai), and yon need, we will
buy all yoiii- cotton at a good price." But the tariff steps in
and says: ''No; England shall not pay in woolens and iron";
except under such disadvantages as must vastly reduce the
(luantity exchanged and the advantage of the exchange. Then
England must say, however reluctantly: ''Therefore we can
lake much less cotton, or at a much lower price." Thus the
South lost twice; once in this cruel reduction of the selling price
of her own products; and again in the tribute paid, without
value received, to the North.
Evidently, the Southern s,ystem might have been far more
])roduetive of values than the rival system, and yet, under this
relentless drain, her aggregate of values might have been far
smaller. That she c3uld spare this enormous drain, receiving no
countervailing commercial advantage, and still outrun her gi-
gantic rival, at successive decenniums, is an evidence of the
economic vigor of her system and her people, inexpressibly
s])l('ndid.
With this overwhelming and reiterated testimou}' of the
government itself, and of the facts, to the superior profits of
the Southern system, the debate might end. But if it stopped
wiih a sweeping victory here, the more instructive part of this
history of the past would be missed. We propose to show by
what principles of true economic science this result was at-
raincd: st« contrary to the prognostic's of the more favored as-
sei-tors of the science itself.
It iy this part of the discussion, which will furnish the val-
ua.ble corrections and additions to our science, for the untried
future. The leading writers of France, Great Britain and New
England, including the latest and perhaps ablest (Frederic l>as-
tial), have usually followed Adam Smith, in demonstrating the
unprofitableness of slave labor, from premises given chiefly by
fancy and slander. It should have given them pause at least
in their application of their passionate declarations, to our
Southern system, to remember that most of them had never
been in three thousand miles of our country: and that none of
I hem had any peri^onal knowledge of the real character o': the
S:;utiiei-u ])eople, or of the Africans.
The stock arguments are such as these: "That our system
made the masters la/y: That the slave will slight his work as
872 FOKMEK LABOE SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHEKN U. S.
much as lie dares, having- no incentive to diligence but I'ear;
while the free peasant proprietor, incited by self-interest, will
work to the best advantage: That the methods of labor will
be wasteful: That the proprietors, not having expended their
own labor for the products, will administer them wastefully:
That travelers testify: one intelligent free laiborer did the work
of two slaves," etc.
Mr. Mills, in his discussion of communism, for which his in-
tense political radicalism gave him quite a fellow^ feeling, has
powerfully refuted his own passionate arguments against the
bad economy of slave labor. No better defense of its good eco-
nomic etfects need be desired, than the passages in book 2 ch. 1.
where, after perforce admitting that the labor of communists
must be compulsory, he yet argues that it would be the most
efficient of all.
What apjdication these arguments may have had to the
serfs of Russia and Hungary, to the slaves of Brazil and the
IJritisli West Indi(\s, we do not pretend to know. But we do
know that they lack application, in a single point, to our South-
ern system. When African servants were poor savages, inept,
alien, knowing no words of English, and moreover stiffened and
enfeebled by the horrors of the ''middle passage," very possibly
they did only half a freeman's work. It is not unusual that a
maxim which had a basis of truth at the beginning, may be
repeated by inaccurate observers, long after that basis is re-
moved. Certain it is that in the 19th century, after civiliza-
tion, discipline, good feeding, intelligent tuition, and constant
domestic intercourse with the most spirited and cultivated of
the white races, the Africans had wholly changed.
In 1860, as they were the best fed and- clothed, so they
were the most athletic, the most skilled, the most effective and
the most cheerful agricultural laborers in the world. Nothing
is said here of the multitudes of skilled artisans among them,
as smiths, masons, plasterers, carpenters, machinists, horse-
fanciers, sugar-refiners, stone-cutters, quarrymen. The indus-
try of our system was prominently agricultural; we speak main-
ly of the agricultural labor. We do not ask the reader to ac-
cept this testimony upon the word of the writer, who after be-
ing reared among these African laborers, had opportunity per-
sonallv to compare their efficiency with that of free laborers in
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 378
Gi-eat Britain, Germany and the Nortli. But it is fortified by
a number of solid facts, which no one acquainted with the t^outh
will hazard his credit by disputing.
In 1800, the census itself told us, what Northern statesmen
had to admit: that the lands immediately South of tlie divid-
ing line, in Maryland, N^iiginia, Kentucky, were rated at least
i)ne-fifth higher than lands of the same soil and climate in Penn-
sylvania and Ohio, immediately North of the line, tilled by free,
or hireling labor.
The great "Valley of Virginia" was settled by the Scotch-
Irish peasantry. But, while at first a free labor district, with
almost no Africans, its inclusion under the Virginia State gov-
ernment of course opened it to the Southern system. The white,
hireling labor was, and is, the best, the most moral, and "the
most efticient free labor in America. But from 1840 to 18G0 the
African labor was introduced steadily and progressively, in
preference to it. This was usually done by the most progres-
sive, skilled and successful land-owners; and almost invariably
the neighborhoods of highest agriculture were those in which
this change had gone farthest. The original sentiment of the
"Valley'' people had been more favorable to free, or hireling
labor.
Although the major part of the immigration into America
went northward, the South received quite an appreciable share
of it. Some German, more New England, and still more Irish
laborers entered the South, and attempted every other imag-
inable line of industry. But it was a notable fact, that they(
never anywhere entered into competition with the Africans for
farm labor. But the demand for more farm labor was contin-
ually increasing, with the growing prosperity and capital of the
country.
The immigrants saw that they simply could not keep pace
with the bondsmen. Between 1850 and 1800 there was a gigan-
tic extension, in the South, of railroads and other internal im-
]H-ovements. Multitudes of experienced Northern contractors
sought the country, to share in the profits of these works. They
usually brought white hireling labor with them. But the South-
ern contractors on neighboring sections uniformly executed
their contracts with African labor, more quietly, more thor-
oughly, and more economically. Northern engineers superin-
374 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
teuding the works soon saw and acknowledged the fact. North-
ern contractors either replaced their white hireling labor by
Africans, or the}' transferred their contracts to Southern con-
tractors and retired. Such was the regular tendency, not uni-
formly carried out, because so many grand works were in
progress, that all the available Africans found employment, and
many whites besides. But it came to be the current and well
known answer among successful railroad men to the question,
"Can he make a profit on that contract?" ''Yes, provided he
gets black labor."
The sudden and violent emancipation undoubtedly depre-
ciated the black labor .and that seriously. Every land holder
felt it. X:)t a few former slave holders, still in bondage to the
dogmatism of hireling labor assertion, when they were robbed
of their black labor, comforted themselves (or affected to com-
fort themselves) with the profession: "Oh, well; they may be
more profitable as hirelings than as bondsmen." One or two
years farming invariably undeceived them. The terrible losses
incurred by the deterioration of freedmen's labor then begat an
intense desire to substitute for it some other hireling labor.
Multitudes of experiments were made. Landholders reach out
every whither for other labor. They imported Swedes, Dutch-
men, Norwegians, French, and, of course, Irish. They even
borrowed from California some of her Chinese. But the in-
variable conclusion was, that while the freedmen's labor was
impaired, all these were yet worse. The African, much deter-
iorated from his efficiency, still reuuiined the best labor, and
to-day all over the former slave-holding districts, if hireling la-
bor is used at all it is mainly that of blacks. The African has
again occupied the labor market so far as any labor market re-
mains on the farms, and the landlords who do not get on with-
out labor, have to adjust their outlay, and their hopes of profit
to the stingier scale of this impaired labor: it is better than
any other accessible.
In order to infuse a particle of argument into the remark
that a slave who has no higher motive than fear of the lash,
will slight his work more than the peasant proprietor; it must
be shown that the modern hireling system has a tendency to
increase the number of intelligent peasant proprietors tilling
their own acres with their own hands, and that the Southern
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 375
system tended to extinguish them. The facts are notoriously
tlie opposite. The material civilization of hireling nations de-
mands constantly, the consolidation of smaller holdings into
larger, the combination of more labor in one enterprise, and
the application of larger capital, in order to t-lieapen produc-
tion.
One has only to look at Great Britain: ThP3ughout the
South, there was a large and growing class of thrifty yeomen
farmers, who, while slaveholders, labored regularly with their
slaves. This class did more really verify that pleasing picture
of labor done from enlightened self-interest; because the one
or two blacks "keeping row about" with tlieir master and his
sturdy sons, were carried forward by example, atfection and
emulation, and not by the lash. But sim-e the tendency of the
hireling system is to have even more of the labor done by mere
hirelings, than was ever done at the South by slaves; it is
enough to ask the practical man: Can not a mere hireling be
a time server? Cannot he als.) cheat his employer of the due
task? Is the fear of losing the shilling any higher motive than
the fear of the lash?
As to the universal plague and curse of inefficiency in hire-
ling labor, let Mr. John Stuart Mill's melancholy testimony be
heard. Speaking of the heavy losses experienced by the hire-
ling societies of Europe througli the 1 jw moral tone of the la-
borers, he sighs thus: Book 1. ch. 1», p. 173: "All who have
ever employed hired labor have had ample experience of the
efforts made to give as little labor in exchange for the wages, as
is coii.patible with not being turned off. There is universal
neglec . by domestic servants of their employers' interests — un-
le-;s wliere long continuance in the same service and reciprocal
go )d offices have produced personal attachment." And this is
exactly what the Southern system did. ''Friendly relations and
community of interests and feelings between laborers and em-
ployers are eminently so" (conducive to profit). ''I should rather
say: would be so, for I know not wliere any such sentiment of
friendly alliance now exists." [We add the emphasis of the
"italics." Bk. I. Ch. 12, p. 281.)
Had Mr. Mill allowed himself to look at the Southern la-
bor system "with eyes unclouded by prejudice, he would have
seen precisely this relationship between laborers and employ-
ers, which he sighs for as the hopeless ideal.
376 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
The adult bondsmau usually felt as much pride and zeal
for the success of the year; for the cleanest fields; for the finest
sample of cotton or tobacco, or the highest price, as the master;
often more. In their comparisons of the farms with each other,
the speakers belonging to different masters, it was always:
"Our crop''; ''our prices"; "our victory" in the race for the
largest return. The reproach of a crop in the grass was their
personal humiliation. The loss of grain by a freshet, or of cat-
tle by disaster, was always their loss. Often and often, in the
former contingency, were the negroes seen far more zealous to
rescue the precious harvest from the rising waters than the mas-
ter: S3 that he would be heard recalling them with entreaties
and commands, against their protests, from farther risk of
health or life. Of course all this sounds very strange to a mind
deluged with imaginary tales of plantation despotism. But all
is credible to any intelligent man, who remembers how certain-
ly the warm tie of clanship and feudal allegiance sprang up,
between all wholesome natures brought into the domestic rela-
tion of superior and inferior. In the 16th century, the power
of the Highland Chief in Scotland, over his ''gilly,'' was prac-
tically all that a master's could be over a serf: as truly for life,
as unrestrained, as complete. But every clansman to the low-
est "gilly'' was inllamed with the pride and zeal of his clan; he
impersonated it in his Chief; he stood ready to die for him.
He who would understand the Sonrlicin system must also
give the adult bondsman credit for a grade of intelligence, vast-
ly higher than the scanty use he made of letters would imply.
It must be remembered, that this black man has grown up
in domestic intimacy and friendship with his master, a member
of the most cultured race in Christendom. The black man has
heard and joined in his conversation. He has heard the preach-
ing of his master's pastor. In sickness he has been instructed
and treated by his scientific physician. He has been taught at
least the practical part (often the theoretic) of that skillful and
enlightened method of agriculture, in which he is occupied, and
of the constant use of the best mechanical appliances in the
world. He has been the intimate and interested spectator of a
large and sagacious domestic economy. To suppose that such
a bondsman does not comprehend his own and his family's in-
terest in the plantation would be a blunder much more stupid
rbau Africans usuallv make.
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 377
No; lie comprehends perfectly, that this plantation is vir-
tnally a joint stock entei-})i'ise nnder the master's presidency.
That as he has received from it his nurture in boyhood; so he
is now indebted to it for certain employment, subsistence and
home: That it assumes for him the certain and comfortable
support of his wife and children, whether sickness, or drought,
or freshet or hail come or no: That it is the safe savings bank,
Into which he is now annually putting the fund, which is un-
failing to support him in his old age, ''sitting under his owin
vine and fig tree," without labor or care: That the insolvency
of the enterprise, through the laborers' fault would be the dread-
ed loss of all these hoarded advantages, and would imply risk
of separations, impoverishment, and banishment from his here-
ditary home. The intelligent black well understood all this.
Hence, the plantation usually dis])layed as the result of loyal
al^'ection, and reasonable self-interest the nearest approach seen
under any modern system, to Mr. Mill's ideal relation of labor.
There was no hireling labor on earth, requiring so little of the
expense of supervision; no laborers who executed so much la-
bor with so little of the eye of master, overseer, or "boss" upon
them.
The remarks thus far made have been directed chiefly to
obviating errors and objections; we advance to more positive
arguments. The first is:
1. One exceedingly simple, though surprisingly overlook-
ed. Let there be two societies, in each of wliich there is a body
of people without capital, who should therefore be workers, and
who must be consumers, and of equal numbers. In the one so-
ciety, there is no positive authority to nmke any of this body
work, who do not choose. The consequence is, that one-third of
them do not choose, work none, and live by preying on the
fruits of others' labor. But the two-thirds being freely moved
thereto: we may suppose work A'ery well. In the other society,
there is a firm ])ractical authority, which compels every one to
work six days in every week. They ma^' not work quite so *ell
as the voluntary workers in the other society — we may concede
merely for argument's sake — yet, as there are three ta two, a
good deal more is done; a good many more values are produced,
and, above all, the society is delivered from the consuming pest
of the idlers, and all the vices, disorders, and interruptions sug-
378 FOKMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
gestcd by idleness. Such was the literal difference between the
Southern system and its rival.
The former had, in its laboring class, no able-bodied idlers,
no "tramps," no "boys," no strong men wasting their strength
on "hurdy gurdies" and dancing monkeys; no such thing as a
"criminal class," and very few criminals. The economic advan-
tage is too plain to dispute.
2. The expense of dealing with, and providing for the
pauper and criminal classes is a dead charge on the production
of the society. In a hireling society, it is rehitively a very oner-
ous one. The subsistence of paupers, at public, instead of pri-
vate expense, implies the additional cost of buildings, officials
to be salaried, and the waste and speculation commonly attend-
ing public administration. As to the "dangerous classes," they
must be watched by a costly, and most often, an inefficient po-
lice. Then there must be well paid sheriffs to arrest them, pa-
latial jails to secure them, salaried judges to try them, all the
apparatus of a costly legal profession to prosecute and defend
them and at last, enormous and expensive penitentiaries to pun-
ish them in, at the cost of the honest workers. Look now, at
the simplicity and economy of the Southern sj'stem.
There were almost no white paupers: and there could not
be in a whole State, a single black one. The infirm were cared
for by the masters, on the plantations, with no additional charge
for lodging, nursing, or attending. This reduced the cost of
rhe charity to that of simple food, clothing and medicine.
There was no criminal class, and consequently, not one dol-
lar of cost for police. The plantation policed itself. Felonies
prosecuted before the courts of the country were very few ; and
justice was administered by the master himself, for all those
minor offenses (which in hireling societies require so expensive
an apijaratus of police, courts, lawyers, costs, prisons) without
(Uie cent of charge, without officials, without any prison or
court house, without the loss t)f a day's labor by the culprit. His
otfense was sini})ly examined by his master, almost invariably
a judicious and moderate judge; he was either cleared, scolded,
or switched; and went at once bai-k to his work.
No word is needed to show how favorable the morality of
a population is to production. The Southern system not only
reduced to the minimum cost the prosecution of such law
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 379
breakers as slie had. but astoiiisliingiy reduced rlioir nuuibers,
bv improviufi- the practical morality of her people. The South-
ern system was the most effective temperance S3ciety in the
world. The regular supervision and methodical employment
removed the lat^orers from temptation; and in the few cases of
intDxication, a smart application of the birch was a better re-
cipe to produce immediate relief, than all the materia medica.
It is probable that up to 18G0. there was not one drunkard's
grave filled by a bondsman in America. There was no loss of
time from dissipation, little waste of values in liquors, and no
police expense a'bout disorders. Thus in ISoO, when the whole
population of the Njrth was about thirteen and a half millions,
and of the South nine and a half (whites and blacks) the hireling
societies had 23,664 criminal convictions, while the South had
2.021. The same year the North was supporting 114,704 pau-
pers; the South 20,563. In Boston, Mass., and the adjacent
county, the persons in jails, houses of correction, or refuge, and
almshouses, bore among the blacks, the ratio of one to sixteen
of that population; and among the whites, of one to every thirty-
four. The same year in liichmynd. Va., the same unhappy class-
es bore, among tlu' blacks, the ratio of one to forty-six, and
among the whites, of one to one hundred and twelve. Had the
iudu.«try of the hireling system really been greatly more profit-
able than that of the Southern, the expense of all this excess of
crime would have eaten up the whole overplus and more.
3. The Southern system always presented an economic ad-
vantage, in the stable and peaceable relation it established be-
tween capital and labor. Every year since its overthrow has
but illustrated this advantage, and sober minds were never so
well prepared to appreciate it, as by the strikes and angry con-
tests between employers and hirelings, which approach every
season more nearly the fearful dimensions of anarchy and civil
war. How shall capital enjoy that quiet, sure and steady con-
irol of hireling labor, which is absolutely essential to produc-
tion; and yet hireling labor be protected against injustice, and
against that depression of wages under their stern law of sup-
})ly and demand in an increasing population, which pauperizes
labor? This is the insoluble question, the very crux of the
scientific economists, before which they stand confused and
helpless. The "labor unions" may result in anarchy, or in com-
880 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SoTJTHEllN U. S.
munism, or in a "reign of terror": they will never lead to a
wholesome solution.
The KSonthern system solved it, so far as the classes of la-
borers under it was engaged, by a simple and complete remedy.
This was to abolish the very conditions of the strife, by making
the laborer the property of the capitalist. One result efficacious-
ly secured was, that the laborers could never be pauperized or
reduced below a comfortable and efficient standard of subsist-
ence: because the capitalist, in doing this, would be destroying
his own property. Another result was, that there were no con-
troversies nor strikes, so wasteful of time and subsistence, and
so obstructive of i)roduction. Still another was, that it was
impossible for the laborer ever to feel that most cruel of all
wants, the want of work, while willing to work, and pressed
by starvation if he did not.
The South, instead of ever witnessing that pitiful and har-
rowing scece lately enacted in London, when six thousand des-
perate men with starving wives and children behind them,
beset the government offices deujanding, in vain, not bread, but
work, to be beaten back by the police; never once in a century
saw the head of one black family "out of work'' except on his
intended holidays.
For the master knew that, wliether any work were going
01. or not he had that family to f(^ed and clothe, and })res€rve
from destitution, to this both the law and his own interests
must imperiously f^rce him. Hence the master felt a power-
ful interest in foreseeing, in prearranging, in dedicating his
own capital to some useful labor, which If not immediately pro-
ductive, would ultimately be so; so that in every emergency
there should be for his laborers some work compensated by
subsistence. Tf the price of a product fell, by some commercial
or political cause, beneath the level of profitable production,
the master did not and could not resort to the usual relief of
the liireliug system: suspend all i)rodu(tion and dismiss the la-
borers to starve, if it might be sol Xo: lie suspended this produc-
tion, and directed the labor at once to some other task provided
by his capital and foresight. If the given farm staple ceased to
pay the cost of production, the farm labor was diverted from
it to some extensive work of drainage, stone fencing, clearing,
or other amelioration which would increase future prodiu-tioiis;
FoeMeR laBok system Of the souTntetiN tr. s. 381
while tlie laborers drew, in advance, out of his capital, their
accustomed comfortable remuneration.
•A. In appraising- the wealth of the South, we noticed the
objection to counting rhe labor of the Africans as property, and
while we demurred to its justice, we waived discussing it, aji
not desiring here to raise the ethical question. But all the
laws, all the business usages, and the full faith of the country
regarded that labor as property-. It was taxable (not only with
a poll, but a property tax), was vendible, could be bequeathed,
and made subject to lien, or hire. From this usage the indus-
try of the country derived at least this advantage: That the
basis of credits was thus very greatly widened. The prudent
use of credits is a wonderful aid to production. When a debt
exists, it is a great advantage to the 'business of the country,
that the just creditor shall find assets out of which to realize
pajment. A "bad debt" is usually a dead loss to the productive
capital of the country. To strip a business man of the means
of giving security for a loan, is to strip him of oommerciial,
credit, and thus to cripple his prosperity by a most hurtful im-
position. Thus the smaller business man of Texas is already
beginning to learn that the various homestead, and exemption
laws, making it impossible for him, even by his own consent,
to use his property as security for loans, injure instead of pro-
tecting him. Tlieir only effect is to shut him inexorably out from
what perhaps is most essential for his prosperity, all access to
a cheap loan market. He is stripped of the power of commer-
cial credits as though a pauper. Thus, this legislation, which
professes to protect the families of small means, is really a law
to tie the hands of the poor man and give the rich man, who'
has sufficient property over and above all exemptions to offer
full security, a deadly advantage against him in the loan mar-
ket. The hireling system wrought a parallel disadvantage
against its people, as compared with the South, by affecting to
regard labor as not a value, and thus crippling the power to
borrow: while the South, by making so large a part of its labor
a value, doubled its solid credit.
5, Among the most luminous and valuable contributions
to economic science in our age, are those investigations by
which the English writers, Mill and Wakefield, and numerous
accurate French and German observers have proved, and ex-
'3^2 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF ^Mfi SOUTHERN U. S.
plniiit'd. the superior ecouomv of nioderarely larjie over «niall
pi-oductive operations. Indeed, tlie demonstration is practical-
ly so sweeping, in tlie manufacturing industries, that it has
revolutionized the civilized world. The individual producer has
been annihilated by being undersold by the larger manufac-
turer.
Where is the hand loom: the domestic forge producing
axes, hoes, horse-shoes, the country wheelwright, the country
shoemaker? The farm cannot even afford to produce its own
axe-helve, thDugh the hickory may grow in its hedge row.
The same economic rule applies to moderately large agri-
cull ure, as compared with peasant proprietors. The large farm-
ing produces more economically, because it permit's more ap-
plication of the all-important principle of "division of labor."
It allows that assortment of labor, applying the cheaper hands
to the lighter tasks, which save so much.
On the well organized Southern farm, the plough, the axe,
the scythe, the hoe, the team ottered constant and remunera-
tive work to the strong men; while the less valuable labor of the
hoj^ and girls, and the elderly, was equally as effective in the
lighter task. But on the peasant proprietor's farm, the strong
man, whose every day should have been worth to him a dollar,
is compelled to spend many days in picking beans; where the
child, worth a shilling a day, would pick as many. The larger
farm permits the essential advantage of combination of labor.
How can one man stack sheaves of grain, without a waste of
time and toil almost heartbreaking, in descending from the
stack, and ascending with every handful of sheaves? This is
the extreme instance. But there are many operations, in which
four or five men can easih' do more than four or five times as
much as one man. All the purchases for the large farm can
be made more savingly, because in larger quantities and at a
wholesale price. But especially is the gain great in the em.-
ploymeut of better implements and machinerj-. The Southern
planter or farmer usually employed a part of his capital lib-
erally, in providing these known to science. But how can the
peasant proprietor of Belgium or France, whose farm is five
acres, afford a three-horse plow, that essential of thorough till-
age; or, indeed, any plow at all? Or a McOormick's reaper, or
mower? Or an effective thresher? He produces his little crops
I'OllMEl^ tAROU SYSTEM Ol* THE SOUTHEHN tJ. S 383
(confessedly large foi- his minute surface) at a wasteful expeu.>e
of time and toil, with the spade, the wheelbarrow, the sickle
and the flail. The attempt has been made to foil these facts, by
assenting, that a richer peasant, or co-partnership, may own
the thresher, and perambulate the neighborhood, hiring it out.
This only palliates the evil. A large percentage of the time is
lost, removing and re-setting the heavy machinery; many la-
borers have to be specially hired, at very special prices: and
tlie tolls charged are always much above just cost. Many
praises have been bestowed upon the economy of these small
peasant farms: "The very grass along the gutters of the
chaussee, the succulent weeds from the raws of the sugar beet
field, are all saved for the domestic animals.'' Yes but at a
ruinous cost of wasted time. This is the shape which the sen-
sible observer sees these savings take in those countries. He
sees a bevy of five, seven or ten strapping young women, sally-
ing forth at 1 o'clock p. m. from the '^Darf," each with her little
sickle and huge liamper, to spend the Lang, bright afternoon in
a tramp of a mile and a half to their parents' little sections, and
in saving and bearing home (converting themselves into beasts
of burden) each, two pfenwings' worth weeds or grass to be fed
to the calf or milch goat. But those girls, on a well ordered
Virginia farm, would have raked, dried, and loaded on the well-
appointed wagons, in that one afternoon ten or twenty tons of
clover hay or wheat sheaves, or oats: or later in the season
have gathered each 150 pounds of seed cotton, at the minimum
average of 50 cents per hundred pounds. These w'ere fright-
fully wasteful savings: They are only justified by the fact, that
the bad organization of this, so-called "free labor system," has
made this labor, which should Ix' so valu;ible. nearly worthless
to their families.
Now, the force of these facts is in the following view. That
if the advocate of the hireling system is t:) evade this fatal argu-
ment, he must advocate large farming by hireling labor. But
rhe moment he does so, lie must bid farewell to all his pretty
Arcadian pictures of the snug little "glebe tilled by the willing-
hands of the peasant proprietor, instead of the loitering, reluc-
tant slave." He must accept and justify all those consequen-
ces, wliicli the universal experience of hireling States prove to
be inseparable from liigli farming with adequate capital and
884 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN V. ^.
science: the eviction of rlie cotton tenantry: tlie horrible "gang;
system" of lield labor: the pollnting- "bothy-systeni"" of lodging,
and the brntal abominations disclosed by the British parlia-
ment as to their large agricnlture. Snch. indeed, is the nnavoid-
able tendency of the hii-eling system in this age of mechanical
improvement: for it leads directly to the heai>ing up of unduly
large fortunes (for reasons to be shown) and the inflation of
money-oligarchs, "making the rich richer and the poor poorer."
But the Southern system, while not favorable to these dispro-
portioned aggregations, opposed an effectual barrier to those
mischievously small subdivisions of the land, to which the
small holdings must inevitably run in a democracy.
The drift of the sj'stem was to till the country chiefly (with
a few exceptions like that of Washington of Mt. Vernon) with
moderate holdings, from those ot the snug yejmanry with two
or three bondsmen to the easy country gentleman with some
hundreds of acres.
The smallest were not too small to employ most of the
profitable appliances; the largest were not so hirge as to be
cumbersome.
Xo economist disputes the extreme advantage of intelli-
gence to producti3n, especially in these days of applied science.
Now, the man addicted to daily toil cannot usually acquire the
intelligence, or the knowledge of the sciences bearing on pro-
duction, which is the customary possession of the master, whose
labars are chiefly those of superintendence, and who, though a
busy man, yet had time for reading. Thus the result of the
Southern system was, that the best, the most advanced mind
of the society had the full direction of the methods of the opera-
tions. The "field hands'* and especially the "head men" were
usually very skillful in their manual labor; capital practical
"crop masters" for the ordinary crops, good judges of weather,
of the proper tillage and harvesting of those crops, and handlers
of teams. The landholders were in addition, men of reading,
acquainted with every advance in machinery, applied science,
chemical manures, the physiology of stock breeding ; and eager
for every enlightened experiment in husbandry.
6. It is as true in political, as in household economy, that
"saving is more than making." The growth of capital depends
proximately on the saving. Of course, natural agents, pre-ex-
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM! OF TKE SOUTHERN, U. S. 385
isriiij'' capital, and lalioi- iiiusr tirsr create the additional valnes.
lint wliether tliey .shall be annihilated in nnproduction, con-
sumption, or be added to the saved up and devoted to reproduc-
tiA'e consumption, depends wholly on their being saved. Now,
saving means self-denial. Self-denial means the mental and
moral ability to appreciate a distant invisible future good: that
namely, to be hereafter yielded by subsequent returns of the
capital saved; more than a present visible one. The public con-
ditions favorable for such saving are, of course, security of
rights and possessions, and quiet and stability of governments.
I>ut the personal conditions which stimulate them to save are,
as plainly, intelligence, self-control, virtue and aspirations. The
more animal and sensuous holder of newly acquired values will
prefer the immediate and visible enjoyments they potentially
contain. The more intellectual holder will prefer the invisi-
ble, distant, but larger good they can yield, not once, but an-
nually, as reproductive capital. The more selfish man will
prefer at once to gratify himself: The more disinterested and
virtuous man will tliiuk more of the good of his children and
country.
We hence expect, just what all history proves: that the
most intelligent and elevated classes are always the most sav-
ing, in proportion to their acquisitions. No one has argued this
more powerfully, or illustrated it ruore profusely, than Mr. Mill.
Political Econ. Bk. I. Ch. II.
Hence, it is always more favorable to the steady growth
of capital, that the successive years' earnings of the society be
controlled and administered by the highest class. No kind of
society ever attained this result so completely as the Southern.
For, the owner as master not only disposed of the revenue of
the estate, directed its wliole expenditure or investment; but
as guardians of the laborer and their families, he and his wife
administered the 3'ear's supply of food, clothing and comforts,
for them all. Even had the master and mistress had no higher
standard of forecast, ju-udence and administratiA'e skill than
the a^'erage African, this would have still resulted in a great
economy. Let us say that there wei-e seven laborers' families.
There wa? a much greater saving of supplies and of labor and
of time, in having tlie housekeeping of the wliole directed by
one head, rather tlian having seven separate kitchens, each
386 FORMKK J.ABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERJ^f tJ. S
with its streams of jjetty wastes, seven laundries, and seven
varying managements: rlie major part of them recklessly waste-
ful. Now add to this the executive and directing skill of the
niosr inrelligenr. foreseeing and responsible couple of all on
the planrarion irlie master and his wife) and the advantage be-
c:)mes grand. Consequently, no cluster of seven laboring men's
families in any country of the world got so much of matenal
gofid and comforr out of the portion of revenue set apart for
them, as the bondsmen on the plantation.
Wastes were minimized; an enlightened system and econ-
omy presided over all.
This saving administration appeared especially at one
[joint, when obsei-vers from hireling States perversely insisted
on seeing the main evidence of Southern poverty. Xo business
man nor economist would dare to dispute this proposition:
That it is conducive to the putolic wealth to have values not
only produced, or created, as economically as possible, but also
ciiculated as economically as possible. For in fact, the labor
of circulation, distribution, which is commercial industry, is
also production. In transferring and dividing a value for the
intending consumer, this industry has as truly created an in-
crement of value in the commodity, as the manufacturer has,
who turns a woolen fleece into a coat. Every agent of distribu-
tion then, who really contributes an agency essential to circu-
lation of ih(^ commodity, is a jjroducing agent. But he who
has included himself into the circulation, where his agency
really contributes nothing valuable to the process, is worse
tlian a non-productive agent — he is a nuisance, grasping a wage
for a service not needed, and eating up the values produced by
honester men than himself. Thus in the change of a fleece into
a useful coat, the industry of the spinner, the weaver, and the
cloth dresser, was each useful, and created an item of additional
value. But let us suppose that another fellow had intruded
himself into the manufacture as second dyer, insisting on do-
ing something to the color of the cloth, which was already per-
fect, and charging his share of wages therefor; he would have
been a mischievous consumer, instead of a productive agent.
So every "'middleman'' in the operations of circulation of
commodities, whose intervention is unnecessary, is an unpro-
ductive consumer. His gains are his fellow-citizens' losses; and
I^orMer labor system of the southern u. s. 387
liis iu-rivity and prosjx'i-iiy ai-p nuisances. Ju.st such nuisances
tlie Southern system avoided, by the simple method of a do-
mestic economy which distributed the products needed for sub-
sistence among' the bondsmen, without any commercial appara-
tus, or profit-charges. That useless middleman, the retail pro-
vision merchant, was eliminated. The farmer who employed
the adults of, say, seven families, reserved in his own granary
out of the crop reared by the conjoined agency of his capital
and supervision, and their labor, four hundred bushels of grain
for their bread. These bi-eadstutt', when gr:)und by his order,
were issued for the daily food of all the families, most prob-
ably under the mistress" eye. Let us now suppose this farm
conducted by hired labor, representing the working force of
seven families. The proprietor has no use for these four hun-
dred bushels of grain; he sells it at the wholesale price. But
the laborers must eat; they buy the same grain from the grocery
store, enhanced by the cost of two handlings and two trans-
poriations, and also by the retail profit. The difference is that
the proprietor does not get any more; and laborers pay much
moTP foi their subsistence. The gross and shrewd fellow who
has intruded liimself between proprietor and laborer, grasjjs a
lar.^e profit, bur produces nothing.
Yet the economists of hireling Srates have actually been
blind enough to point to this contrast between their countries
and th( htuth, as proofs of their thrift. Their rural regions
are dotted over with large and pretentious "stores," where the
coi-n. wool, butter, leather, and even soft-soap, which the labor-
ers should have drawn directly from the employers, at whole-
sale prices, are resold to them at high retail prices, to the ser-
ious reduction of the avails of their labor, with no compensat-
ing production for tlie ((nuuiunity in an}' shape. And this
mischievous bustle is called i»rosperity! It would be exactly
]>arallel to argue that hireling labor was more gainful, because
hireling societies had larger jails.
7. One more view remains, confirming and explaining the
superior economical results of the Southern system: It is at
once the most fundamental and the most grateful to tlu^ jthil-
antliropic mind. Our system exerted a powerful influence
against unproductive consumption of values, and in favor of
productive consumption; by constraining the proprietor to ap-
888 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHKRN U. S.
inoitriaf*- the largest sbaie 3f his annual revenue to his ser-
vants' eomfortable subsisrence. and to suitable appliances for
their productive employment during the next season. Every
eeonomist knows the ditference: every mind of common sense
ought tri kni\v it.
For instance: Previous labor, with the aid of capital, has
produced a half ton of coal. This may be used to form the neu-
cleus of a great bonfire, at a political jolliflcaHon. It is so
consumed as to be annihilated as a value, and that forever, leav-
ing no production behind it. Or. it may be used to heat a charge
in the furnace of a foundry, by which pig-iron worth one and
one-half cents per pound, is converted into utensils, as tea-
kettles, stoves, and iso forth,' worth five cents per pound. There
is a creation here of new values in the pre-existing material
represented by three and a half cents per pc)nnil. Now again,
this coal is consumed: as truly as in the bonfire, and is no more
anything but vapor and ashes. But its value reappears in the
new values of the inn utensils, and that with increase. It needs
no arguing, that unproductive consumption is destructive to all
increment of capital: and thus to future production, by the
means of that value; while productive consumption reproduces
capital and enlarges it, thus providing for future production
ever after. Let another fact be added, known to all economists:
That the presence of capital is one of the most essential con-
ditions fDr enlarging the demand for labor, thus tending to
give employment to more human hands, and at better prices.
A weak and indeed wicked attempt has been made to parry
this view by arguing that the demand for luxuries by persons
receiving large revenues, is favorable to the working classes:
inasmuch as it makes a market for products, circulates money,
and thus "encourages industry." Thirty years ago we refuted
this doctrine, in an argument wliich has been several times
jeered at, but never answered.
The potent authority of Say sustained the truths at that
earlv day. It is pleasant to find the same correct view now
supported by ^lill and the current of recent economists. The
outline of our argument is this: That since the consumption
of luxuries is unproductive consumi)tion. notwithstanding a
l»artial and temporary gain, in the form of wages, for the lux-
ury produced: tlie ultimate result is the destruction of values.
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 889
the diniiuiition of capital, and thus, an inevitable restrictiau in
the demand for labor in general, a decline in its wajies, and a
scarcity of the staple values, which these pr3ducers of luxuries
should have been creatinji, for the common j^ood. Just in the
deji'ree there is luxurious expenditure at the upi)er end of the
social ladder, there must be destitution and misery at the lower
end, for want of employment, and of necessary articles of sub-
sistence. This is confirmed by the facts in every luxurious so-
ciety on earth. This consumption of luxuries does not eu-
courajie, but misdirects industry. Now there is more tlian one
way, in which the hireling system promotes luxurious and un-
productive consumption, more than the Sauthem system did.
It has a much stronger tendency to make the rich richer and
the poor j)Oorer, to create excessive wealtli in a few hands. This
at once enables and tempts the very rich to this waste of reve-
nue, so adverse to the growth :)f capital and i>ros})edty of labor.
TUit chietiy the hireling system r(^leases pi-()i)rietors from a
wholesome and beneficent check, which the Southern system
operated. To tlu^ capitalist who hires, the laborer is notliiug
after the production is comjdeted. If he [jerislies. the employer
is not concerned; he has lost notliing, he has only to step out
into the teeming labor market, to fill the vacant place— sucli an
employer then naturally feels more inclined to use spare revenue
in pomps and indulgences. I'ut the S )uthern system made the
labor of the African property, created an omnipotent motive in
the master to pre*;erve not only its existen<-e. but its health
and efficiency, and besides, appealed to his st^lf-respect. and to
the domestic tie to reinforce this obligation. Hence, as soon
as the annual revenue was ascertained, the ])ro]>rietor appro-
priated, as a first charge upon it, so much as would subsist the
Africans for another year, and this subsistence must come up
to such a level as would not only preserve their lives, but their
lu^alth and efficiency. Next, the ])roprietor must unavoidably
set off so much, for an addition, or reparation to his working
capital, as was necessary to provide the full means and appli-
ances for the ensuing year's industrial operations. And as he
knew that he was responsible for making that coming year a
profitable one. and that the calamity of an unsuccessful one
must strike him first and mainly: both interest and stern neces-
sity forbade his stinting that appropriation. If worn or an-
390 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S.
liquated tools and machinery needed to be replaced; if drainage
and permanent fencinu weve called f^r; if the arrival of new
laborers at adnlt age called for a larger area of land to be either
cleared or purchased; all these must perforce form a prior
charge on revenue. Xor until both these demands were met.
and met without grudging, could one dollar of revenue be taken
for superfluities. Tf n) surplus remained, the results were per-
fectly simjilf-: ^fadame must just postpone the purchase of
the new carriage or carpet. Mademoiselle must just do with-
out the new pian:> another season. Young master must forego
the blood saddle-horse, and even, in all ])robability put off the
University; and go to teaching for a year, instead, so as to earn
money to pay his own education.
This picture is perfectly sustained by all who know the
two sections by personal observation. I'artisans spoke of the
South as ''the aristocratic section." But while her proprietoi^s
sought solid comfort, kept a good table, chiefly from the re-
sources of the mistresses' admirable skill, devotion and econ-
omy, as housewives; and always practiced a liberal and social
hospitality, men of equal wealth usually expended about one-
ftftli of the sums wasted by their Xortheru equals, in equipage
and luxuries. In one prosperous trading town of the Xorth you
should find more palatial residences than in all the Southern
continent from the Potomac to the Gulf. The good, solid, plain,
old ancestral dwelling of the planter owning .flOO.OOO, would
have been pulled away as rubbish by the New York man. who
had gotten his |50.()(Ml. and was setting up liis home on Sixth
(not to say Fifthi avenue. Two RichnioiHl merchants, in New
York before the war, were taking the air in Fifth avenue. They
]»assed the new glittering palace of a parvenue manufacturer.
After admiring its costly elegance, the younger pointed his
friend to a smaller house in the rear, with brown-stone walls
and plate glass windows, asking. ''Can you surmise. B., what
that is?" B. could not. "Why. that is the owner's stable."
"Then." exclaimed B., "I wonder if he would not let me be his
horse?" Old ^Nlr. B.'s jest was perfectly so'ber; although he
was, in descent, in integrity, in courtesy and in intelligence,
truly a merchant prince; the dwelling which he inherited from
a distinguished father, and in which he was then dispensing an
elegant hospitality and rearing a cultivated family, had a much
FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 391
less pretentious exterior than the parvenue's stable. This con-
trast was typical.
It is easy for the economist to infer how promotive of solid
progressive wealth that system must have been, which regu-
larly laid its prior liens on revenue, in favor of the productive
laborers and the producing capital, instead of luxuries and
iciuipage. and the costly })omps of unproductive architecture.
And it is easy for the heart of the philanthi-opist to decide
which is the more pleasing aspect: that which treated the la-
borers employed as mere tools of production, to be discarded
when used; or that which ensured their having the prior lien
on the profits of their own labor?
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, I). D.
PEE FACE.
The board of directors of Union Seminary, at their annual
meeting- after the dearli of Dr. Sampson, determined that it was
proper t3 present to the churches, his brethren, and former pu-
pils, some memorial of his Christian and professional character.
They requested me to prepare such a sketch; and the following
sketch is the result. So far as a full and intimate acc^uaintance
wirh his life, tirsr as a pupil, and rhen as a colleague, can (null-
ify one for such a task, rhat (jualitication I possess. And if an
ardent personal attachment unfits one to draw the character of
its object impartially. I must confess to rliis disciualification. It
is for those who knew Dr. Sampson as well as I did, to judge
whether the jiortraiture is accurate. I can express no better
wish towards all his brethren and former pupils, than that the
reading of this humble tribute to their bst friend, may give
them the same mournful delight, and the same elevating and
purifying lessons, which its preparation has given me. It is
now affectionately dedicated to the Alumni of Union Theologi-
cal Seminary, to the candidates fjr the ministry, and to the
Christian young men of the Synods of North Carolina and Vir-
ginia.
A life, spent, like Dr. Sampson's, far from the stormier
scenes of the world, amidst scholastic shades, offers little ma-
terial for narrative. I have, therefore, only attempted, after
giving a brief outline of his uneventful life, to unfold the na-
ture of his work and his character, and to indicate some of those
lessons which they teach us.
ROBERT L. DABNEY.
Union Theological Seminary, \n.
May 28th, 1855.
INTRODUCTORY OUTLINE.
Dr. Sampson was the son of Mr. Richard Sampson, an em-
inent and respected agricultnrist in the neighborhood of the
Dover Mills, in the county of (loochland. He ^Yas born between
the 1st and otli of Xovember, A. D. 1814. In 1830, he was
placed at the school, and in the faiuily of that man of God. ReA'.
Thornton Rogers, of Albemarle, who was his maternal nncle.
Here he made a profession of religion, was baptized, and be-
came a member of the Presbyterian church in Charlottesville,
then in charge of Rev. Francis Bowman, on the 13th of August,
1831. The 10th of September of the same year, he entered the
UniA'ersity of Virginia, and continued his studies there till July,
183G, taking- a very extensive and thorough course of study, not
only in the academic departments, but in the schools of junior
law. auatouiy and pliysiology, and securing the degree of M. A.
which was then, as now. attained by very few. November 9th.
183(). he entered Union Theolngical Seminary, Va. On the resig-
nation i)f Professor Ballantine. in tlie s])ring of 1838, he was
made teacher of Hebrew, and from that time continued to per-
form other duties of the oriental department. He was licensed
by East Hanover Presbytery in October, 1839, and ordained as
an evangelist by the same Presbytery in October, 1841. In July,
1848, he took a journey to Europe, for the prosecution of his
oriental studies, and returned in August, 1849, having spent
the year chietly at the Univtn-sities of Halle and Berlin. lu
October, 1848, he was elected professor of oriental literature and
languages in the Seminary; but he had for many years per-
formed the work of a full professor, though with the title and
compensation of an assistant, and had long been esteemed as
second to none of his colleagues in the value of his labors.
About the time of his return from (lermany, he also received
the honorary degree of D, D. from Hampden Sidney college.
He fell asleep Sabbath, the 9th of April, 1854. only tliirty-nine
years and five months old.
Thus brief and uneventful is the record of his life, which
was passed almost wholly in the quiet shades of colleges. But
the results of this life have not therefore been uuimi)ortant.
The atti^mpt will be made to draw the features of his character
as a Cliristian and Christian minister, a scholar and an instruc-
tor, in order that we may praise Cod for his grace manifested
in him, and may receive the advantages of an example most
modest, and vet illustrious.
CHAPTER I.
Person and Constitution. Dignity and Courtesj' of Manner. Early
Habits and ^Maxims. Influence of Example in a Different Sphere
Dr. 8ampsou was in pei-.suu light aud jjii-aceful, and of a
florid complexion. Alrlioiio;!! liis family lias shown pulmonary
tendencies in several of its members, and his own lungs were
ultimately much impaired in their soundness, for the first thirty
years.of his life he enjoyed, by virtue of great temperance, most
uniform health, and endured an immense amount of severe
study. After he reached that age, he was gradually broken
down by several attacks of acute disease, and though his health
gave a delusive promise of restoration the last year of his life.
he finally fell bef jre a short and violent attack of pneumonia.
His personal habits, as to diet, sleep and recreation, were
simple, methodical and teniperate, without being ascetic. His
dress was scrupulously neat and ai)propriate, without the faint-
est approach to display. In his ai)proaches to his fellow men
there was the happiest union of unaffected modesty and grace-
ful quietude with Christian dignity. Yet his was a dignity
which repelled no advances of affection or confidence, nor any-
thing but impertinence. His friends who most desired to see
him shine in society as his solid worth entitled him, sometimes
accounted him too modest. Yet, with a modesty which almost
amounted to difiidence, he w^as the farthest of all men from a
Timid or truckling expression of his opinions. When an er-
roneous sentiment which he conceived to be of any impoi'tance
was thrust upon him in conversation, he most distinctly de-
fended his own opinion, with a singnhir union of inflexible,
even impracticable mental honesty and courteous deference.
He was the last man in the world to be wheedled into the soft-
ening of a truth down, or the admission of a faint shade of the
error he had been opposing, by any of the blandishments of
politeness, or by the fear of seeming too pertinacious. :Much
of the singular amiability of his social character is no doubt to
be attributed to the influence of grace. Had he grown u]. un-
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 395
convei'ted, lip would have been known as a man of hisli and
determined temper, of energetic will, and persevering' activity.
Divine grace softened what was violent, and refined what was
valuable in this remperament, until the result was a rare and
lovely union of the strong and the sweet.
One of Dr. Ir^ampson's most striking and valuable natural
traits was his methodical industi-y. To any one who knows his
anoestrj', it is very plain that this (luality was received from
them, both by inheritance and inculcation. That whatever is
worth doing, is worth drting well; that each task must be done
with one's might, in just so much rinu' as is needed to do it per-
fectly, and no more; that no task is to be left till all is perfected
which can be done to advantage; these were the rules of work-
ing whicli he cari-ied with him fi-om the honu' of his boyhood to
the school, the university, the study, the lecture room. The
same thoroughness, the same deep ploughing, the same com-
plete harrowing, the same utter extirpation of obstructions, the
same perfect finish which characterized the farm of his father,
prevailed in his scholarshijt and instructions. It would be hard
to estimate how much of liis usefulness and ability was due
to the example and habits thus impressed on his youth. And
we cannot but admire the wisdom of Providence in training,
on such a field and by agencies so unconscious of the divine
purposes, a (pialily which was afterwards to do so much good
in a higher and nobler sphere of duty. Dr. Sampson, the emi-
nent hebraist, the profound expositor, the masterly instructor,
was but the far-seeing, energetic, able farmer reproduced on
another field of action.
CHAPTER II.
p]nters Rev. Thornton Ptogers' School. Reliaious Impressions. Decision.
Personal Covenant. Diary. University of Virginia. Christian
Activity there. Dr. White's Testimony. Goes to Union Theological
Seminary. Zeal. Devotional Spirit. Humility. Liberality.
We cannot proceed farther, without attempting to draw his
(Mirisrian character. This was in several respects singular: but
in most, singularly excellent. The neighborhood in which he
grew u}). was very irregularly supplied with the preaching of
396 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D.
the Gospel, and was wholly unblessed with a sound pastoral
influence. Consequentl3\ domestic religion and pious training
were nearly unknown. From a brief diary which Dr. Sampsjn
kept during- a i)art of the session of 1833-4, we Learn that when
he went to the Rev. Mr. Rogers' school, he did not possess a
Bible of his own, and had never read more than very limited
portions of it in his life. His character was wholly irreligious;
and he was given to all the light and corrupting amusements of
fashionable young persons. But he tells us, that the only out-
breaking vice in which he indulged, was profane swearing; and
this he contracted at the age of twelve, from vexation in a
game of whist, in which he had an unusually bad hand. With
such a character, he found himself in a new world, in the well-
ordered. Christian family of his uncle. There the word of God
was daily read, and his name revtM-ently worshij)j»ed in the fam-
ily. Although little personal exhortation was addressed to him
concerning his sins ami impenitence, he saw daily illustrations
of the excellence and peace of Christian principles, in the har-
monious happiness of a pious house, where ^'brethren dwelt
together in unity"; and above all, where the beauty of holiness
shone from the example of the godly father, as he presided in
the family and school room. In consequence chiefly of these
silent teachings, he gradually f(dl into a state of profauud re-
ligious concern, wliich continued about twelve months. His
feelings were studiously concealed from all, rhrough fear of
ridicule; and the love of sin led him to put forth many and bit-
ter struggles against the Spirit. ]^>ut the God wlio loved him
would not let him go; and liis convictions were from time to
rime strengthened. In the spring of 1831, he chanced to hear
a sermon from the Rev. Mr. Staunton, then of Prince Edward,
from the text, ''Secret things belong unto the Lord thy G3d,'"
which was the means of sweeping away all his objections and
excuses. His convictions now became so pungent that they
compelled him to an outward refoi'm of liis life, and to set
about seeking a present Saviour in earnest. But the fear of
reproach and love of sin still made desperate struggles. On one
occasion, while several of his school fellows were engaged with
him in a game of marbles, one of them sneeringly observed,
"Frank must be getting pious. Do you notice, boys, that he has
not been heard to swear for a fortnight?'' This taunt stung
MEMOIRS Ot^ FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 'S^7
liim to rlic (jiiii-k; and to show that iie Avas not jiistlv liable
to rheii' insinuation, he took the very tirst plausible occasion tj
throw out a most pi-ofane oath! But this heaven-darinj^- act
was made the crisis of his i-ebellion. For, his remorse, alarm of
conscience, and fear of having grieved the Holy Spirit, together
with his convictions of the corruption of his nature, and im-
potence of his own resolutions for piety became immediately
so agonizing, that he was compelled to retire, and cast himself
at once upon the Saviour's mercy. From this hour, his soul
seems to have been built upon the rock Christ Jesus; and his
face w^as turned decisively lieavenward. He now first divulged
his religious feelings to his uncle, in a letter which he handed
him without seal or signature, and which detailed his struggles,
his ignorance, his decision to be on the Lord's side, and his
dawning peace.
Mr. Rogers had often made his salvation the subject of his
secret wrestling with God. But so complete had been the con-
cealment of Dr. Sampson's convictions, that his uncle was at
this very time almost in despair of his conversion. And though
Dr. Sampson had ever been docile and industrious in everything
else, so impressed was his uncle with the evil influence which
his profanity might exert in his family, that he had seriously
considered the best means of removing him. As he was the
son of a beloved sister, he had seriously thought of disbanding
his school for a time, as the least painful mode of securing this
end. Indeed, he had only been deterred by intercessions of
others, from carrying this purpose into effect. How- delightful,
then, must have been the surprise with which he received this
letter, telling him that the great work had gone on so far under
ground? This curious incident may carry home two truths to
us, ''That we should not be weary in well doing; for in due
season we shall reap if we faint not"; and that much of the
seed of truth which we sow- is often lost, or smothered, for want
of more constant and tender nursing.
But Dr. Sampson was more the spiritual child of the Rev.
Thornton Rogers, than of any other person. He has often said
lliat the means which efficaciously awakened him out of death
in trespasses and sins, was no^ so much any particular sernKui
or warning, as the holy and consistent life of his uncle. This
398 MEMOIKS OF FRA:MCIS S. SAMPSOjST, t>. D
was to liim the seniion. the rebuke, the 'iiving episrk^■■ whirh
revealed to him his spiritual necessities.
Xo man since the Apostle Paul could use more truthfully
his language, "When it pleased (jod who separated me from
my mother's womb, and called me by his grace, to reveal his
Son in me, immediately I conferred not with flesh and blood."
Dr. Sampson was about to leave his uncle's roof, where alone
he could expect to fiud any religious sympathy among his own
friends, to return far a few weeks to his native neighborhood,
in which every affectionate attention of his relatives would be
a temptation, and where there were no sanctuary privileges nor
Christian communings to help him on his way. Thence he was
to go, in the early autumn, to the University of Virginia — an
institution opened only six years before under infidel auspices,
without prayers, chaplain, Bible class, Sabbath school — yea, we
may say, without Sabbath; so that almost all godly parents kept
their sons away from it with a pious dread; and vital religion
was nearly unknown among its students.
We have seen the strong and almost fatal hold which the
fear of ridicule had on his natural heart. Yet, from the mo-
ment his stand was taken, although but a youth of sixteen, fear
was at an end. A courage more fixed than that of man, had
taken possession of his breast. One of his first acts after con-
fessing Christ, was ta prepare a written address to his school-
mates, intended for the close of the session, in which he urges
upon them the claims of Christianity. These were the same
school mates, whose ridicule had a little before almost driven
him to reject the Holy Ghost I In his address, he discusses the
following causes, which induce irreligious men to postpone at-
tention to the Grospel: "An unwarranted dependence on the
general mercy of God; objections to the incomprehensible mys-
teries contained in the Bible; and especially, the incomprehen-
sibility of the doctrine of a Trinity; cavils against the number
of sects into which Christians are divided, and their bickerings;
and skeptical doubts of the truth of the Scriptures." These
points are discussed, without striking originality indeed, but
with a distinctness of thought, order and justice, most remark-
able in a school boy: and the temper of the address is marked
by a happy union of Christian boldness and affection.
The same decision of religious character marked all his
Memoirs oP PnAitct^ s. sAMp&oi^, D. b. 39^)
Christiaii course. His religion was uow everyrliiug-. His JJible
was almost his only couipanioii, aui3n<;- doc/ks. The fad that
he learned so little of Christianity through the colored and
somewhait distorted medium, in which it is presented b}- the
prescriptive religious habits and expressions of even good peo-
ple, but drew his religi:)us ideas direct from the Word of God,
under the teachings of the Holy Spirit, may account for much
of the excellence and symmetry of his religious character. In
all his intercourse with relatives and as.sociates, in his amuse-
ments and devotions, in everything, the desire to please God was
ui)permost.
There yet exists a correspondence of considerable bulk, ex-
tending through the five years of his University course, and
later, with two favorite female cousins. In these letters, the
desire to benefit their souls and his own, is ever the prominent,
almost the sole concern. The great topic is approached at once,
without squeamish circumlocutions, but with atfectionate dig-
nitA' and delicacy. His correspondents are continually reminded,
that the chief aim and glory of a (.'hristian friendship should
be, to give and receive edification, by the interchange of ex-
periences and advice. He has no news or gossip to detail. Even
from the first year of his Christian life, these letters show a
depth of experience and a range and fullness of Christian
knowledge, such as we would expect from a mature saint. From
them and his brief diary, we learn with what punctuality and
solemn diligence he engaged in the study of God's Word, search-
ing his own heart, and secret prayer, as tlie first great business
of each day.
We learn he declined living with a room mate during his
.second session, because his room mate the previous session,
though amiable and moral, was unconverted; and his presence
robbed him of his regular hours for secret devotion. In this
exigency he was accustomed to resort to a wooded mountain
hard by, for communion with God. And when, at the beginning
of his third session, he received into his room a young gentle-
man like-minded to himself, who afterwards 'became a most in-
timate Christian friend, an arrangement was mad(- for retire-
ment, as well as daily social prayer. From this friend we learn
that when the hour of secret prayer found him languid and in-
disposed to devotion, instead of making such a state a pretext
400 MEMOIRS or FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. t
for tile postpoiHMiiciir of the dury. ho f'i»im(l in it a i»(»\v(M-fu] mo-
tive foi' it>s iiioi-e (liligeut perfoi-iuaiice. Hovvevei- fatigued or
overworked, he would take his Uible and read and meditate till
lie could bnv his knees in the proper frame, saying that this
languor and eolduess were the very evidences that he needed
fervent prayer at that special time.
The first of January, 1834, he held a solemn review of the
l)ast year, and the state of his soul, and entered into a formal
written covenant, to which his name is attached, engaging, with
divine assistance, to live a life of entire devotion. The form of
covenant is marked as a quotation. Although conceived very
mucli in the terms of the one given in Doddridge's Rise and
I'rogress, for the young Christian covenanting with God, it is
not copied thence; and the source from which it was taken is
not known. Perhaps it is enough to say that it is couched in
terms of most devout and humble confession, ardent breath-
ings after holiness, and adoring reverence of the divine perfec-
tions. Though the subsequent diary shows that those alterna-
tions of strength and weakness, joy and isorrow, were not wholly
unknown to him, which are found in the experience of all em-
inent saints, yet this era was no doubt a new starting point to
his soul in its religious race.
It is a characteristic fact that this diary, after having been
punctually kept for several months, was discontinued. The
ground assigned at its close was, that he began to suspect him-
self of coloring the statements of his feelings, from an involun-
tary reference to their being some day seen by others, and he
feared that thus his Christian sincerity might be corrupted!
Such holy diligence in prayer, such singleness of aim and
such watchfulness, could not fail of their reward. He seems
to have lived in the habitual exercise of religious joy; and often
his soul mounted up with wings like eagles. It is believed that
from his conversion to the day of his death, no serious cloud
ever overshadowed his assurance. He lived continually under
the peaceful light of a sure hope! How fully was the truth
verified, in his Christian courage, consistency and intense ac-
tivity for God, "The joy of the Lord is your strength?"
His position as a pious student among two hundred and
fifty thoughtless young men, gave ample occasion to illustrate
his Christian decision. But yet, this quality was so admirably
Memoirs of francis s. sampson, d. d. 401
tempered with modesty and kindness, that it secured, instead of
enmity, almost universal respect. His manner was quiet, sim-
ple, and unobtrusive. His religion was never thrust upon the
notice of any one; but when any assault was made upon his
principle.s, they were found immovable. He was oibliging to
all, even to the profane, wherever the sacrifice of conscience
was not asked for. So kindly and unpharisaic was his demeanor,
that many, then entirely irreligious, became warmly attached
to him, and his usual college name was "Neighbor Sampson."
Yet, so sincere was the respect for his principles, a thoughtless
and profane student was heard once to remark, "I canU swear
before Neighbor vSampson"; adding that there was no other
Christian student in the University to whom he would pay the
tribute of such a self-restraint. It is doubted wlietlier a single
raint, or one word disrespectful to his religion, was ever offered
liim with malicious intent among all the hundreds of ungodly
young men by whom he was surrounded.
Let this be an effectual lesson to every young person, who
shall read the character of this man of Grod, never more to be
held in bondage by the fear of reproach or ridicule. An honest,
(■hristian courage commands the involuntary homage of the
worst. It is weakness and inconsistency which provoke the
gibe and sneer. Dr. Sampson was not protected from them by
any of those brilliant popular talents which dazzle the imagina-
tion of young men; for his abilities were not then appreciated.
He was regarded as a plain and unpretending joung man,
whose conduct was spotlessly consistent, and whose Christian
courage was unshakable. It was this which covered him, amidst
the most heaven-daring sinners, with a shield of affectionate
respect.
The next trait of his Christian character to be noted, was:
His strict conscientiousness. Never have we known a Christian
who seemed more habitually to walk
"As ever in his great task-master's eye."
This conscientiousness was seen in the minutest pecuniary
transactions, and in the scrupulous care with which he used
tlie interests and i»r()i)erty of the Seminary, and of those who
entrusted their concerns to him. That word of our Lord was
to him a living precept, "He that is faithful in that which is
least, is faithful also in much; and he that is unjust in I he
least, is unjust also in much."
402 MEMOIRS OF Fi4ANClS S. SAMPSON, D. 0.
Instances of liis scrupulousness might be mentioned, wliicli
some might almost regard as showing a "morbid conscience."
We can only say — Would to God that all his people were in-
fected with the same disease. There was nothing morbid or
exaggerated in his Christian character. On the CDntrarv, uni-
formity and good sense were its peculiar traits.
As instances of his conscientiousness, take the following:
We find him determining that he cannot lend his notes of
the professors" lectures (for he was a famous note taker) to fel-
low students who studied them on the Sabbath. Although, in
all other cases, unbounded in his kindness, where he had reason
to believe that they would be so abused, he inflexibly exacted
their return on Saturday. We find him, in every friendly letter,
zealous to communicate some spiritual gift; and on his return
from social visits, he frequently taxed himself vrith unfaithful-
ness, because he had been satisfied with the innocence of his
social enjoyments, and had not enough watched for openings
to speak for Christ.
On a visit to his beloved Christian relatives in Albemarle,
he not only seeks to do good to his cousins, but seized an op-
portunity to "go into the kitchen at his grand-father's and talk
with old aunt Bett^-, the cook, about Christ, his righteousness
and atonement, our weakness and dependence on him. and the
glorious prospects of the Christian, and encourage her to can-
stant prayer. She thanked me for my advice; and said she re-
joiced in the Lord, and prayed that the Lord would make me
happy and useful. She said she was so glad that I had come
and talked with her about Chidst. How happy is it. to be with
a Christian, whether white or black 1 How good is my Grod,
who revealeth himself to the poor and the ignorant, that feel
their need of himl While I talked with this kindred spirit, my
own soul was quickened, and the tear of sympathy dropped
down my cheek. The old woman cannot read. Lord bless her
soul, and give her grace, knowledge and true religion, with all
its comforts. Let thy blessing rest on all with whom I con-
versed about Christ."
A few lines further we read this :
"Was detained by rain longer than I intended, rnile
Thornton lent me a horse to ride l)ack. Conversed with the ser-
vant who came with me. about the danger of his immortal soul;
MEAfOiRS OF FRANCI8 S. SAMPSON, B. B. 403
endeavored to make plain to him the way of salvation, and
showed him how reasonable it would be for God to cut him otT
in his sins, before he could repent. Lord bless him wiili salva-
tion."
And this, reader, was not in the glow of a first love, noi- iu
a season of religious excitement. He had been a professed
<'hristian nearly three years. How many ministers of the gos-
l>e] may feel rebuke from these examples of evangelical zeal in
a young college student I
In a like diligent spirit we tind him pert jrming each daily
task, "as unto God and not man," regulating his diet with
solemn Christian self-denial, because he found himself some-
times indisposed, by partial excess, to prayer and meditation,
and exerting his influence for good over his comrades by every
means.
In his walks for recreation, he met with a plain but respec-
table countryman, seriously inclined, though not a believer; and
this casual acquaintance was improved, to set on foot a Sabbath
school in the mountains, and to seidc the salvation of the far-
mer and his wife, by repeated visits, and careful instruction.
When he had fully dedicated himself to the ministry-, and
to the foreign missionary work, which, he then supposed, was
to be his destination, he thrust aside obstacles to his great pur-
pose, with a heroic self-denial, which can never be known, un-
til the day which reveals the secrets of all hearts. In all the
domestic relations of his subsequent life, in the duties of fam-
ily devotions, in his functions as master and father, the inmate
of his household could clearly jierceive that (Jod was continual-
ly before his eyes. As an officer of the Seminary he was ever
at his post, with conscientious diligence. No sickness, which!
was not extreme, could detain him frjm liis class room; and the
first day of his last, fatal illness, he attempted to rise and at-
tend to his classes, and only desisted from his purpose when
literally overpowered by weakness.
The Christian reader will hardly need to be told, that such
a. believer as is above portrayed, abounded in active exertions,
and the labors of love for Christ and perishing souls. To ap-
preciate the strength of this active principle in him, we must
remember the modesty, ihe almost shrinking diffidence of his
Christian character. A few instances of his zeal to do good
404 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D.
have already been mentioned. When he went to the University
of Virginia, there was no chaplain, nor religious observance of
any kind. Occasional public worship had been held perhaps,
by transient ministers of distinction; and the sound religious
sentiment which distinguishes the bulk of our people, was be-
ginning to make itself felt among the governors of the institu-
tion; so that they were not unwilling to pay the tribute of some
outward religious observance to this public opinion. Soon
after Dr. Sampson went there, the Kev. Mr. Hamet, a Metho-
dist minister of great fluency, and popular rhetorical powers,,
preached in Charlottesville; and the most thoughtless students
were fascinated with his abilities. Advantage was taken of
this, to introduce a permanent chaplain, and Mr. Hamet was the
flrst who filled that office. The chaplain is usually selected by
the facult}', with some conference with influential ministers of
his own denomination, and is supported wholly by a voluntary
subscription among the professors, students and other residents.
He is chosen alternately from one of the four leading denomina-
tions, Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal and Presbyterian; and
served at first one, but now two years. Dr. Sampson was very
active in supporting this new enterprise, and gave valuable aid
to Mr. Hamet, though his short stay in that office ijromised no
very valuable religious results. He was succeeded by men of
a more evangelical type; and to them all Dr. Sampson was a
right hand, during his stay at the University, whatever their
denomination. He was also the most active agent in originat-
ing the first Sabbath school in the University, and was its su-
perintendent. We are assured by an eminent citizen, who was
then a child in one of the families connected with the institu-
tion, that he was taught in this Sabbath school by Dr. Sampson,
and there received his first saving impressions. The first pri-
vate prayer meeting among the pious students of the Univer-
sity was equally indebted to his agency for its maintenance.
It met every Sabbath evening; and we find in his short diary
frequent references to his enjoyment of its Christian commun-
ion, anid to his having addressed a word of exhortation to his
brethren there.
The following sentences, communicated by the Eev. Dr.
White, who was pastor of the Cliarlottesville church from the
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 405
spring of 188G to 1848, happily express the position which Dr.
Sampson then hekl there:
''My aeqnaintance with Dr. Sampson commenced in the
spring of 183G. He was then jnst closing his course at the
University of Virginia; and on the 4th of July of that year, lie
took the degree of M. A, with great credit. The South Plains
church then embraced the Presbyterians living in the Univer-
sity and Charlottesville. There were not more than sixteen
members living at these places. On my arrival, he called on me,
and although very modest, yet convinced me in one short in-
terview, that he was a youth of no ordinary talents and piety.
He was then, I should suppose, about twenty years of age — be-
tween twenty-one and twenty-two. He entered with great in-
terest into conversation on the subject of religion; and had evi-
dently thought and prayed much for the prosperity of Z'ion.
He gave me more information respecting the condition of the
church, and both said and did more to cheer me in the work
I was about to undertake, than any one with whom I met. I
well remember the first attempt I made to have evening service
in the dirty and dilapidated church. When I reached the house,
I found it was neither lighted nor unlocked. As I stood in front
of the building with half a dozen others, none of whom seemed
to know what to do in this great emergency, Sampson came up,
accompanied by several of his fellow students from the Uni-
A'ersity. I was on the point of abandoning the undertaking in
despair, when he, with his accustomed quickness and energy,
said, 'Don't go yet — Fll see what can be done.' He hurried
away, and very soon returned with candles in one hand, and
the means of lighting them in the other — entered the house by
raising one of the windows, and soon had the church opened,
lighted, and ready for service. I preached to Just one dozen
hearers, and found no little help in doing so from the part he
had acted.
"Through his whole course at the University, he was as
much distinguished for his firmness as for his modesty, and as
eminent for his piety as for his scholarship and talents. My
impression is, that he established the first Sabbath school ever
raught, and the first prayer meeting ever held in the Univer-
sity. I am sure he took a very active jjart in both these depart-
ments of benevolent and Christian effort.
406 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S SAMPSON, D. D.
"A few weeks before lie graduated, the lamented Professor
Davis said to me, with a very sad expression of countenance,
'We are about to lose Sampson; and a sad loss it will be to the
I'uiversity. With a modesty and reserve seldom, if ever, equal-
ed, he combines a firmness of purpose, and an openness and en-
ergy in seeking to check evil and do good, which have made
him a great blessing to the whole insriturion. His influence over
all classes of persons is astonishing. Has your church no more
such young men to send to us? The University might well af-
ford to furnish any number of such with their board and tuition
gratis.'
'•I have always believed that the course he pursued and
rile influence he exerted contributed immensely to the great
change which, from that time, began to take place in the re-
ligious character of that institution. My connection with him
there ceased after some two or three months. In a pleasant
interview with him just before he left, he said to me, 'I must
preach the Grospel. or die in the attempt.' He left in the state
of mind indicated by this remark; and you know the rest."
We cannot refrain from adding the closing paragraphs of
I>r. White's remarks concerning him. though more confidential
ill their tone, and not relating to the subject immediately before
us. His words give a touching and truthful picture of the im-
pression made by the lively Christian simplicity and modesty
of his demeanor:
''He spent two ui- iliree days with me. and preached twice
for me during the summer preceding his death. The impres-
sion he made both upon my congregation and family, was of the
most sfiiutary and pleasing kind. His meekness and gentleness,
his freedom from all ostentation and reserve, won the confi-
dence of the youngest member of my household. So much so,
that for weeks and months afterwards, his visit was frequently
mentioned at my fireside, as an event to be remembered witii
mingled emotions Df pleasure and pain. With pleasure, because
we enjoyed the privilege of entertaining him: and with pain,
because we feared we should never enjoy this high privilege
again. When this fear was realized by the announcement of
his death, the deepest gloom passed over my family circle, and
tears were shed that we should see his face no more."
If every pious student and other young Christian were thus
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 407
(lilifieiit in di)iiig good, how different would be the aspect of
our churches and colleges. What a new impression of the sol-
euni reality and urgency' of the work of redemption would re-
place in the minds of their thoughtless assiociates, that unreal
and dreamy idea which they now entertain!
At the Union Seminary, which Dr. Samps9n joined the fall
after he left the University, his Christian activity was similar.
Xo man was farther than he from that misplaced zeal, which
aspires to do the work of an evangelist, while still a student,
at the expense of a student's proper duties. In preparation for
the class room, in punctual attention to the routine of his du-
ties, in accurate scholarship, he was among the foremost. But
to do good was one of the recreations of his leisure hours. Dur-
ing a season of religious interest, which visited the College in
the immediate neighborhood of the Seminary, he, with others,
labored much in a modest way; and some of the subjects of that
work, if ever they attain to that blessed world where we believe
he now is, will have occasion to acknowledge their debt to his
wisdom and love, to all eternity.
As soon as he was licensed to preach the Grospel, by the
Presbytery of East Hanover, he began to abound in evangelical
labors, which, to his death, were increasingly acceptable to
the churches. Besides the labors of his vacations, in his native
county, and others at a distance from the Seminary, he preached
statedly at different times, in the College and Farmville church-
es, at Guinea in the county of Cumberland, Charlotte court-
house. Walker's. Forest and Appomattox churches in the coun-
ty of Prince Edward. Some of these labors were wholly gratui-
tous. For a considerable period, his stated labors not being
more urgently needed in any of the churches of convenient ac-
cess, he preached regularly to a congregation of colored people,
for no other reward than the pleasure of doing good.
Another marked trait of his Christian character was the
uniformity and healthfulness of his devotional spirit. While
Ids private habits in this matter were covered with a sacred
veil, which none dared to attempt to lift — drawn alike by the
reverence and the modest^" of his spirit — his profiting was so
outwardly evident to all, that no one could doubt his diligence
in the closet. While his brief diary laments occasional spiritual
declensions, there is reason to believe that he never knew what
408 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S, SAMPSON, D. D.
it was to lose the assurance of hope; and that the flame of devo-
tion burned in him with a glow unusually steady. In public,
his prayers were eminently edifying to believers, marked by
scriptural tone, humble sincerity, appropriateness and compre-
hensiveness. But to know the sweetness of his spirit of prayer
fully, one must have enjoyed the privilege of being an inmate
of his house and frequenting his domestic altar. Family pray-
ers were, in his house, no hurried, unmeaning form. The whole
air and tone of the exercise showed deep sincerity and earnest-
ness. After a daily catechising of children and servants, the
reading of the Word of (iod, and a hymn of praise, he bowed
his knees with a composed awe and seriousness, which seemed
to communicate itself to all the circle. What deep sincerity,
what discrimination and justice, what point, wliat fullness,
what grave tenderness characterized those prayers, as he
brought before the throne of grace his household — his children,
his servants, his relatives, his brethren in Christ, the (Seminary,
the church, and the whole interests of a perishing world! To
those who were so happ3' as to be often present, it was not diffi-
cult to believe that these services would leave their calm and
holy savor upon the spirit, throughout all the toils and cares of
the da3^, like ''the dew upon Heron, and as the dews that de-
scended upon the mountains of Zion."
His religious principles were strikingly illustrated also, by
the manner in which he felt the call to the ministry.
As has been already indicated, his definite purpose wa.s
fixed, in this matter, during liis residence at the University. It
was formed in the face of the strongest influences and the most
brilliant allurements to more worldly and ambitious i)ursuits.
H?. lias left on record the great benefit which he received in this
respect, as well as in others, from the Biography of James
Brainerd Taylor, edited by Dr. John H. Rice. The principles
illustrated in the life of that devoted young Christian had a
powerful influence in fixing his resolution to consecrate him-
self to the work of preaching the Gospel. But this purpose be-
gan to dawn in his soul from the very beginning of his Chris-
tian life. On one occasion the writer asked him, what were the
time and means for bringing the claims of the ministry home to
his conscience. He answered, "There never was a time, in my
Christian life, when I did not feel the claims of the ministry."
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 409
In reply to tlie question, how this was. he continued, ''I simply
reasoned thus: I had given myself wholly up to God, to be
used for his highest glory, and if he needed me most in the work
of the ministry, as seemed every way prjbable, as a thing of
course I was bound to be a minister."
His settled purpose, during a large part of his University
and Seminary C3urse, was, to prepare himself thoroughly for
the work of a translator in some important foreign mission. He
was led to this purpose by his success and accuracy as a lin-
guist, and his humble estimate of his own talents, and his ca-
pacities for public speaking. He seems to have thought that
he was deficient in all those more brilliant gifts, which secure
success in the pulpit; that his only talent was a patience, dili-
gence and accuracy, which wauld make him a correct scholar,
and that this humble talent he could best use for his master's
glory, in the unobtrusive drudgery of rendering Grod's Word
into the tongue of some I'agau people. With this object, he
devoted himself most diligently to languages, drilled and cul-
tivated his mind as thoroughly as possible in his preparatory
course, and, in the Seminary, mastered as thoroughly as possi-
ble the languages of the Scriptures. But his master thought
not S3. When his Seminary course was but two-thirds done,
he called him. by his Providence and the voice of his church,
to a responsible work at home; and speedily rewarded his hum-
ble fidelity, by giving him fame and influence in the pulpit, of
which he had judged himself unworthy.
Now, here is a lesson for those young Chnstians, who malce
a lack of special capacity fjr speaking or of similar qualifica-
tions, their pretext for declining the claims of the ministry. This
servant of God had a sincere distrust of his own capacities; but
with a heart consecrated with equal sincerity to his Saviour's
service, he humbly ottered himself to the work, to do what he
could, believing that God would accept him according to that
which he had, and not according to that which he had not. Yea,
and he was accepted; and not only used his scholastic accuracy
fo;' the service of God in a high and honorable sphere, but be-
came one of the most admired and impressive preachers of the
land.
Young Christian, if thy self-distrust is genuine, go thou
and do likewise. But if it is feigned, remember that ''all things
410 MEMOIRS OF FRAIMCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D
are naked and opened unto tlie eves of him with whom we
have to do."
Our portraiture wouhl be recognized bv all the friends of
Dr. Sampson as incomplete, if we omitted those which were,
to all. his most abvious traits: modesty and disinterestedness.
One of his most faithful friends was accustomed to say of him,
''If Brother Sampson has a fault, it is that he is too modest."
This virtue was impressed upon his social demeanor, upon all
his acts of c )nscientious decision, and upon his deportment in
all the courts of the church. There, he was usually a respectful
listener, and a rare and brief speaker. When his sense of the
importance of a measure called him out, his remarks were
direct, lucid and weighty, and offered with an air which showed
that he shrunk from occupying the time and attention of the
body longer than was unavoidable. Self-display and self-seek-
ing were ideas which none that knew" him associated with his
name. Always estimating his own talents and knowledge be-
low their real worth, he rather shrank from promotion than
sought it. He waited for the call of his brethren and Provi-
dence; and it is believed that there never existed a case, in
which he consented to lift a finger, directly or indirectly, to.
promote his own advancement, even by honorable means. Be-
fore he became a student of divinity, he refused vei-y tiattering
offers of literary employment, not inconsistent with clerical du-
ties. And after he engaged in the service of the Seminary, and
received the assurances of his brethren that they judged his
labors essential to the cause of God in that institution, no in-
conveniences in his post, and no advantages oft'ered from with-
out, weighed a feather towards leaving it. During this time,
several offers of employment, such as professorships, more lu-
crative, and not unworthy of a Christian minister, were made
to him. His answer always was, that God seemed to have work
for him to do where he was; and as long as this wag so, he had
no right to leave it for any increase of his personal comforts or
emoluments. Meantime, those emoluments were so stinted for
many years, in consequence of the financial embarrassments of
rhe Seminary, as scarcely to aiTord the means of comfortable
subsistence. Vp to his formal election to the professorship in
which he died, while he performed the full duties of a ])rofessor
in fact, and was acknowledged bv all to be second to no one in
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSO^f, D. D. 411
the value of liis labors, he received less tliau two-tliii'ds of the
eiiiolunu'iits belongiug to the office of a professor iu this insti-
tmidii. Thi.s cantiiiued for ten years — years of activity, aud
growing reputation and usefulness — second to none of the years
of his life. When he left his post temporarily, to improve his
knowledge and health in Europe, the directors of the Seminary
continued ta him this inadequate salarv during his absence —
feeling that his tour was, in fact, in the service of the Sem-
inary, and that this was no more than a just reparation for the
unavoidable scantiness of his previous compensation. Bint
even this he declined to retain, and refunded it to the Seminary
after his return, in annual installments. So that the last year
of his life may be said to be the anly one in which he received
the full salary which he had all along deserved. Yet in re-
funding this sum, he considered himself as repaying a debt, and
not conferring a gift.
.V very few years before his death he came into possession
of a part of his ample patrimony, and then his benefactions in-
creased with his ability. His donations to the Seminary and to
other institutions of public interest, were bestowed with a
generous hand.
His conscientiousness in the use of wealth, might well be
imitated by many other Christians. Whether his circumstances
were scanty or affluent, he was simple in his tastes, unostenta-
tious in his person, and economical from principle. In accord-
ance with the general system of all his habits, he kept an exact
account of all expenditures — a thing which is, indeed, a neces-
sary foundation for the proper practice both of Christian lib-
erality and Christian economy. He was economical only in or-
der to have the means to be liberal. His Christian hospitality
was overflowing; and it was truly the hospitality of a Chris-
tian minister, designed not for its own display, but for the be-
stowal of comfort on others. To every good cause he gave, al-
ways with the heart, and when his means became ample, with
the hand of a prince. It was one of the secrets which his Chris-
tian modesty never revealed, that he kept a strict account be-
tween himself and God, in which all sources of income were
stated with scrupulous exactness, and a fixed and liberal por-
tion of the sum was set apart to almsgiving; and this account
was balanced with as much regularity as his bank book. Mean-
412 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D
time, lie was not .without the pretext, which many professors of
religion find for stinting their liberalii y, in the chiims of a grow-
ing family.
CHAPTER III.
Dr. Sarupson as a Student. Wise and Resolute Plan. Thoroughness.
Intense Application. His Scholarship— Its Range and Accuracj'.
The third general topir i»roi)o.sed to the reader, will be the
habits of .study and SL-holarship of Dr. Sampson. A brief state-
ment of his methodical and thorough system of study has al-
ready been made. It may perhaps be said with truth, that the
only i>eculiar indication of talent, which the beginning of his
scholastic life gave, was the wise and resolute i)lan of study
which he set before himself, and pursued from the first, with
all the determination of his character. For surely, such wise
determination is a talent — it is a trait of mental and moral
greatness — and one rare and invaluable in a stripling of six-
teen. He seems to have begun his collegiate course with a
fixed reference to the greatest ultimate benefit. While he was
a most punctual and laborious student, exact in all collegiate
duties, allowing himself, for years, ouIa^ six hours in bed. and
but a scanty season for recreation, he did not fall into the
temptation which overthrows so many at the University of Vir-
ginia. This is the ambition to run rapidly over the course, by
an extraordinary and spasmodic exertion, and thereby to excite
admiration, and to pass speedily into the duties of actiA'e life.
Dr. Sampson's course, on the contrary, was long and deliberate,
covering five years. Many distinguished citizens, who were his
fellow students, state that he was at first only known as "an
excellent student," of good sense and accurate habits; but that
with every session, the appreciation of his abilities and learning
increased. He seems to have practiced, from the first, the wis-
dom so rare in youth, of leaving nothing behind unmastered, of
never weakening the accuracy' of his faculties and perceptions
by half prepared tasks, and half understood views. His schol-
arship was matured and digested, as he progressed. And this
character was found eminently in all his subsequent acquisi-
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON", D. t>. 413
tions. It has been said tliat, as a Seminary stndent, lie showed
equal diligence and method. As a professor, his diligence was
great, and his toil in study excessive, until Increasing infirmi-
ties compelled him to relax his labors. It is well remembered
by some of his pupils, that once, when taking a class over the
Epistle to the Hebrews, which he had gone over more than once
before, he spent, on an average, thirty hours of active study on
each lesson, in additional preparation. But alas! here the in-
tensity of his zeal reached its crisis. This was the last year of
his firm, unbroken health; and henceforth, "while the spirit was
willing, the flesh was weak."
If all our young ministry was inspired with such zeal, how
glorious would be the result? Perhaps the number might be
increased by those who, like our lamented brother, would have
to say of themselves, "The zeal of thy house hath consumed
me," and whose premature loss the church would bemoan just
as their harvest of usefulness was beginning. But would not
this spirit endue the ministry of reconciliation with an influ-
ence, a w^eight, a might, a glory, which would be cheaply pur-
chased, even at so precious a cost? A costly price hath our
Zion paid for this example, which she now otfers to her young
ministers, to teach them what is the diligence they should exer-
cise! May God forbid that it should be lost on them. Happy is
that man who falls at the high noon of his career, and on the
spring tide of his success, at his post of duty; but happier is he
who can so temper a burning activity with a holy prudence, and
so avoid both a corroding sluggishness and a rash over exer-
tion, as to rise brightly to the meridian of his powers, and then
decline gently towards their serene evening, and thus to bless
the church both with his earlier strength and his riper ex-
perience.
By such system and diligence. Dr. Sampson became one of
the best educated men of our country. In all the departments
of letters he was able, above the average. His knowledge of
systematic theology was profound and extensive. Of church
history he retained a knowledge far superior to that which most
young ministers bring to their ordination, although his deparr-
ment called him away from these studies; and he was accus-
tomed to complain that his memory was treacherous with re-
gard to those of its stores which he had no opportunity to re-
414 MEiNfoiRS ol" FkAKcis s. SAidPsoif, 0. t>.
view. His mastery of Latin and Greek, and of most of the po^
lite languages of modern Europe, would have abundantly quali-
fied him for the highest posts of instruction in America. T'o'
say that it was such as becomes a well educated minister, would
be utterly inadequate to the truth. But his ripest acquirements
were in the Hebrew literature and the exposition of the Scrip-
ture. Here, as is well known, he was pre-eminent for tliDrough-
ness, accuracy and philosophical arrangement. While there
may be many who possess an equal familiarity with these de-
partments of learning, it may be safely asserted that, as a Jeach-
6r of Hebrew, there was not his superior on our continent.
CHAPTER IV.
Characteristics as a Teacher. Tact. Yivacitj-. Earnestness. Patience
Intercourse with Pupils. Hebrew Prelections.
This naturally suggests another subject of remark — his
character as an instructor. In his practical skill as a teacher,
was his peculiar value to the church of our day; for as a mas-
ter of the art of communicating knowledge, he was, in our view,
unrivaled. It was not that his lectures presented those grand
sajings which electrify for the moment, nor that any one of
his efforts produced on the pupil an impress of pre-eminent tal-
ent— but there was just the combination of that justness of
mind, steady animation, thorough knowledge, patience and
tact, which gave the highest skill in teaching, both as it is a
trade and as it is a science. He was equal to its profoundest
researches. He shunned none of its most irksome drudgeries.
One of the foundation stones of his success was his owti indis-
putable scholarship. No man ever passed through one of his
classes without a profound and admiring conviction of this.
Another was in his unfailing animation and vivacity of mind,
which was so keen, even on subjects usually esteemed dry, as
to seem unaccountable to many. The exertion of voice and
body which he unconsciously employed, when thoroughly
warmed to his work, was often the subject of playful remark
between him and his colleagues. This animation communicat-
ed itself to his pupils — sa that usually their highest diligence
w-as exerted in his department, though it was one not most at-
MEMotRS Oi" FRANCiS S. SAMPSON, D. t. 415
tractive to all miuds. But to this result another quality, which
is invaluable to the teacher, also contributed. This was the
energy of his own will, which pressed on towards the objects
of his exertion with an impetus which swept all along with it,
and communicated its own life to the most sluggish. In every
act of his in the class room, there was expressed the idea of
work; and all who frequented it soon felt instinctively that it
was not the place for loitering. It might be said that his
watchword was thoroughness. With an admirable patience, he
expounded his subject so as to make it luminous to the weak-
est eye; and if his questions revealed the fact that there was
still some one who did not fully comprehend, he would resume
his explanation, and repeat in varied forms, till his ideas were
thoroughly mastered. Out of this habit, and the propensity of
his mind to thorough work, probably grew that which might
have been considered his prominent fault as an instructor. His
explanations sometimes degenerated into excessive amplifica-
tion, which became wearisome to those who had given him a
moderate degree of attention from the beginning; and he thus
unduly protracted his prelections.
His intercourse with his pupils was marked by a happy
union of modest dignit}^, which repelled improper encroach-
ments, and cordial, ingenuous kindness, which conciliated con-
fidence. In his presence, each one felt that there was a sim-
plicity and candor which set the stamp of reality on every kind
attention. It is believed that there is not one of his pupils who
did not feel for him not only respect, but warm affection; and
many can join in the sad words of one who remarked, when
speaking of his death, "Well, I never expect to meet with an-
other minister of the Gospel, whom I shall love and revere as
I did that man." Often it was a subject of wonder to his col-
leagues, how so much affection could be retained fram those
towards whom he exercised so much fidelity in admonishing.
The distinctive traits of his expository instructions may
perhaps be described as justice of thought, neatness, and im-
partiality of mind. He believed the plenary inspiration of the
Scriptures. His soul loved their spiritual truths; and often
in the lecture room he soared away from the dry dissection ot
words and propositions, into regions of devout meditation, and
made his class forget for the time the exercises of the head, in
tlie nobler exercises of the heart.
416 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON', D. D.
It was in his Hebrew prelections tiiat his mental excel
lence shone most distinctly. He had applied the broadest prin-
ciples of etymology to the elements of this language, in a man-
ner original and philosophical; and had thus reduced them to
an 3rder which, so far as we know, is not equaled by any pub-
lished grammar. His lectures unfolded the Hebrew etymology
with a lucid order, beauty and simplicity, which could not fail
to delight every intelligent learner. Indeed, if we may be per-
mitted to introduce our own judgment, after frequenting the
halls of three separate institutions of learning, and sitting under
some of the most gifted and learned men wh > have appeared on
this side of the Atlantic, Dr. Sampson's lectures on the Hebrew
language, and some other departments, seem to us the most
philosophical, the most complete, ihe best teaching ro which we
ever listened. None who attended his prelections on the canon
of Scripture (of which there remains a brief specimen in his
"University Lecture") will forget the masterly nature of the ar-
gument there constructed. It is one not servilely copied or com-
piled from previous writers, but constructed on his own plan.
He has there built, upon a foundation of adamant, a structure
whose ribs of steel are knit together with the strength of mathe-
matical demonstration. Xo part is wanting, and every part is
in its exact i)hue. It stands totve teres et rotundus, impen-
etrable everywhere to refutation.
Alas I that there remain no permanent records of most of
these invaluable instructions, except in the scanty and scat-
tered notes of his p.ipils. In his later years. Dr. Sampson re-
gretted often that he had not found time to fix upon paper more
of his course of instruction. But such was his unambitious and
self-sacrificing spirit, that he always yielded to the urgent de-
mands of the present, and preferred the thorough performance
of his duties to his classes, to the gathering of those fruits of
his researches, which would have promoted the fame of his au-
thorship. He said, that if he became an author, he must be a
less diligent teacher. There was not time to be, thoroughly,
both at once. And he preferred rather to leave his record writ-
ten on the minds and hearts of the rising ministry of our Syn-
ods, where it might be fruitful in the enlightening of souls, than
in volumes which would hand down his name to future ages.
But besides this, he was cut down just when the fruits of his
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 41^
arduous studies were coming to their rich maturity. Had he
lived to old age, he might have gathered some of them into
books, for the benefit of a wider and more remote circle.
CHAPTER V.
Dr. Sampson as a Preacher. Simplicity of Style. Logical Arrange-
ment. Elevation of Thouglit. Steadily advancing Reputation. Les-
son of Encouragement to young Pivines.
The reader will almost be able to surmise, from what has
now been said, the character of his preaching. It exhibited al-
ways the lucid order, and the animation of mind which marked
everything w'hich he produced. His best sermons rose to a
grade of excellence which is seldom displayed in any part of
the church. And it was an excellence which was most appre-
ciated by the most Cultivated and mature minds. Whilst there
were other preachers, who would be more sought after by the
masses, he was preferred by the men of thought and acquire-
ment. His plans of discussion were marked by a just and com-
prehensive view, which showed both the profound theologian,
and the ripe biblical scholar, who had drunk deep into the spirit
of the Word of. God. His propositions were usually stated with
singular accuracy and beauty of language; but it was a beauty
rather logical than theoretical, rather chaste than florid. In
deed, his whole method of discussion wore an appearance of
directness, too severe to admit of any license of ornament. Yet,
in the judgment of all those who are capable of appreciating a
felicitous purity and aptness of language, and thoughts of vig-
orous symmetry, many passages in his sermons rose to the high-
est grade of eloquence, coupled as they were with his genuine
fervor and fire. His preaching was rich in matter, and emin-
ently scriptural, such as is best fitted to feed the spiritual mind.
It was alwaj's remarkable for its elegance and elevation, which
were never tarnished by anything coarse in allusion, ludicrous
in association, or bungling in structure. But it was, the least
of all men's, a finical elegance. It was rather that of an ener-
getic and lofty simplicity. That men of strictly scholastic
training and pursuits should excel in the particular work of
418 MEM0IE8 OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D, B.
ii.e pulpit, is rather the exception; but he was certainly one of
the most brilliant of these exceptions. Hy the intelligent public
his preaching was even as highly esteemed as his professional
labors were by intelligent students.
This fact is dwelt on. because it contains most instructive
encouragement to all beginners in the pulpit work. When Dr.
Sampson first began to preach, he was far from being an easy
or impressive speaker. His first attempts had little to eouir
mend them, except that excellence of composition which was
the unavoidable result of his thorough training and good mind.
He labored under a constraint and embarrassment, painful to
himself and his hearers. His voice was not modulated, and his
gesture was scant and unformed. But every effort showed im-
provement; and a few years of diligent exertion placed him in
the front rank of impressive, pungent and fervent pulpit ora-
tors. His voice became resonant and musical; his action digni-
fied and energetic.
Such an example should effectually remove the discourage-
ments of those who suppose they are deficient in pulpit gifts;
and it should teach all to feel their responsibility to set up for
themselves a high standard of excellence, and to be satist-^n]
with no dull mediocrity in sacred oratory. Provided they have
good sense and diligence, let them not persuade themselves
that the road is closed up to them, which leads to the higher
grades of excellence in this art. The things by w^hich Dr. Samp-
son was enabled so thoroughly to overcome his original de-
fects, were undoubtedly these: First, there was his superior
scholarship, which gave him mental furniture, and supplied
the best material ujj'on which to build a style. Had he not
been a superior scholar, had his mind not been thoroughly
drilled and invigorated by its inner training, his early manner
would never have been improved into one so eminently good.
Next, should be mentioned the modesty, humility and ingen-
uousness of his Christian character. He learned to preach
well, because he aimed to preach not himself, but Jesus Christ.
Those words of our Saviour proved strictly true, in their ap-
plication to his understanding of the art of expressing reli-
gious truth: ''If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be
full of light." His eye was single. His prevailing purpose was
to show forth the way of life: and his triste was not perverted.
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 4lj)
nor his manner poisoned, by the itchings of conceit, or the am-
bition for display. And, in the tliird place, he was diligent.
Not only did he preach much, "in season and out of season,"
but he preached with careful and laborious preparation. And
where there is a natural substratum of good sense, unfettered
by any physical defect, these means will usually be sufficient
to overcome an}' amount of incipient difficulties or failures, and
to make an}- man, if not an orator of the first rank, an impres-
sive and pleasing speaker.
CHAPTER VI.
Intellectual Traits. Grcnius and Talent. Symmetry. Analytic Faculty.
Imagiuatiou. Memory. Candid Estimate of his Powors.
It is in the life and acts of a man that the faculties and
traits of his mind make themselves known to others. Conse-
quently, the preceding exhibition of Dr. Sampson's character
as a scholar, teacher and preacher, is also a portraiture, in some
sense, of his intellect. No more is necess'ary, therefore, than
to sum up the whole with a few general remarks. Dr. Sampson
could not be called a genius. He was what is far better — a
man of high talent. His mind presented nothing that was sa-
lient or astonishing. But this was not so much because there
was not power, as because it was power S3'mmetrically develop-
ed. His was just one of those excellent minds, which grow
most, and longest, by good cultivation. In wide and adven-
turous range, his speculative powers were not equal to those
of some other men; but in power of correct analysis, in sound-
ness of judgment and logical perspicacity, he was superior to
all we have ever known, except a very few. Indeed, when a
■speculative subject was fully spread out before his mind for
consideration, his conclusions seemed to be guided by a pene-
tration and justness of thought almost infallible. This con-
sideration was deliberate; and his decision was very rarely ex-
pressed with haste, or even with promptitude. Hence his writ-
ings and conversation never exhibited an}- of that paradox, or
that bold novelty and dangerous originality, which are too of-
ten mistaken for greatness. His talents, if they had less to
420 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S SAMPSON, t). t>.
awaken an empty ai^touishment and admiration, were far safer,
more reliable and more useful. It was bard for anytbing so-
phistical or unsatisfactory to escape detection undei' bis steady
gaze. He was particularly free from tbat common fault of
many minds of large grasp: tbe adopting of major propositions
so large tbat tbey will contain tbe conclusion wliicb tbe reasou-
er desires to derive from tbem; but at tbe same time so sbadowy
that they contain be knows not bow much more.
In bis powers of arrangement, he was undoubtedly super-
ior to any man we have ever known. In bis mind, tbe elements
of thought seemed to group themselves always, and spontan-
eously, into tbe most philosophical order possible, with a regu-
larity like tbat of tbe atoms of limpid water, when tbey crystal-
lize into transparent ice.
The efforts of Dr. Sampson's imagination were rather of
tbat kind which Mr. Macaulay describes in Sir James Macin-
tosh. Tbey consisted not so much in the original grouping of
elements into new, but lifelike forms, as in selecting appro-
priate forms already shaped out, from the stores of a well fur-
nished memory. In those severer exercises of tbe imagina-
tion, which are required in mathematical thought and in the
bodying forth of scientific conceptions, this faculty was em^-
inently distinct and vigorous. But in its more poetic exercises
it was limited. His power of calling up tbat species of illus-
tration which is flowing and graceful, was scanty; and while
the operations of bis faculties, especially in lecturing and
preacJing, were unusually fervent, it was rather, so far as it
was not spiritual, tbe dry beat, if we may so term it, of intel-
lectual animation, than tbe glow of genial fancies. And yet,
there were a few occasions on which he showed a high measure
of tbe graphic or pictorial power; which might indicate tbat
this faculty was rather disused by him than lacking in him.
Another of bis mental peculiarities has been already hinted: bis
almost impracticable honesty. He could never be induced to
accept a proposition unless it wholly commended itself to his
mind as true. His memory was most retentive, for all thingis
which were arranged in it by any logical association; but for
things sole, or merely verbal, it was sometimes treacherous.
Upon tbe whole, considering tbe admirable justness and
perspicacity of bis mind, its vigor and accuracy in analysis, its
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 421
wonderful capacity for pMIosophieal arrangement, and the eu-
ei-ftv of its purposes, he might have been truthfully called a
man of great powers. The symmetry of those powers, his mod-
esty in their display, the very accuracy of thought which re-
pressed all those paradoxical brilliancies that catch the ad-
miration of the crowd, forbid that he should be promptly ap-
preciated. Hence his proper grade will probably only be as-
s>igned him by those who, like the writer, had opportunities to
contemplate his mental powers deliberately. But it is his de-
liberate judgment — a judgment formed maturely, in advance
o'l that warm personal attachment which he will ever esteem
(Hie of the chief blessings and honors of his life, that Dr. Samp-
son, for his particular work, possessed capacities unsurpassed
b\ an}^ man which our countr^^ has produced, and equaled b^^
very few. Happy would it have been for our churches if they
had fully known his worth.
CHAPTER VII.
Failure of Health. Fluctuations of Disease. Flattering Hopes. In-
creased Piligence. Dr. Sampson's last Sermon. Final Attack. Con-
cern of the whole Community. Prayer in Presbytery. Dying Exer-
cises.
In the early spring of 1840, Dr. Sampson's ill health began
with a terrible pleurisy; which was immediately provoked by
fatigue and exposure in preaching the Grospel, but doubtless
owed its more remote origin to the prostration of vital energy,
produced by the intense appMcation we have described above.
After imminently threatening his life, this disease was sub-
dued, but it did not leave him with a sound constitution. He
seemed to be nearly re-established: and especially, on his re-
turn from Europe, his appearance of health and vivacity al-
layed all the fears of his friends. P>ut not long after, he ex
perienced another irreparable shock, in a severe nervous fever
which overtook him on a journey. This loft liim with a nervous
system and liver painfully deranged, and some threatening in-
dications of pulmonary disease. Fro'm this time forth, he sel-
dom knew what it was to enjoy comfortable strength. His most
422 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D.
distressing symptoms were a feverish excitability of pulse,
sleeplessness, and occasional attacks of biliary derangement,
which prostrated his muscular system for the time. But dur-
ing his last session, his health, cheerfulness and hopefulness
seemed to revive; and there was again a flattering promise of
re established strength and a long life. The returning prosper-
ity of the beloved Seminary, the renewed and substantial as-
surances of interest and affection on the part of the churches
and ministry, and the steps taken towards filling the vacancies
in its faculty and dividing. his responsibilities, seemed to be
cordials to his mind and body. His enjoyment of the innoceul
blessings of life and its domestic affections, was intense, and
liis hold upon it was strong.
During this flattering season, he seemed to be conscien-
liously husbanding his strength, and employing all the means
for preserving health. Once or twice he referred to the repeat-
ed and grievous blows, which a mysterious Providence had in-
flicted on the Seminary in the death of its most useful ser-
vants, and pleasantly said to his colleagues, ''It is our duty to
live just as long as we can, in order that the institution may
have time to root itself." But alas! another blast was nearer
than any of us feared, which shook its still unsettled strength,
nor less grievously than any which has burst upon it, since that
which smote down its great founder in the flower of his strength
and success. Xor did Dr. Sampson seem to be without antici-
pations of its ai)proach. While he said nothing directly, and
seemed rather ta avoid any allusions to the previous symptoms,
threatening his health, as a painful subject, yet the thoughf
seemed to be ever treading close after his eager footsteps, and
spurring him to greater diligence, "The night cometh, when no
man can work." Mpre than once, when others expostulated
with him for taxing himself be^'ond his strength, either by the
fervency of his preaching, or the vigor with which he pushed
thrDugh his Seminary duties, he answered, "Perhaps I have
but a few days or weeks more in which to do my task. I must
work the works of him that sent me, while it is day."
And even so, the summons came, to him not unawares,
but to us "like a thunderbolt from a cloudless sky." Sunday,
the second of April, the venerable pastor being absent, he
preached in the college church, from Prov. xi, 18. "The wicked
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 423
worketh a deieitful work; but to him that soweth i'i<jhteous-
uess, shall be a sure reward.*" lu this sermon he urjjed the con-
trast between the delusiveness of the objects pursued by the
unbeliever, and the glopious sufficiency and certainty of the be-
liever's reward, with a power of thought, an energy of man-
ner, and a fervor o^ atfectian, which could not have been sur-
passed, if he had foreseen that this was his last message to his
fellow men, and had poured the whole soul of a dying man into
this final appeal. As we left the church that day. we felt that
in this discourse his powers as a preacher of the gospel cul-
minated. From that meridian height and splendor he fell —
nay, rather, he rose; for the next Lord's day his soul (doubtless)
ascended to those heavenly courts,
"Where congregations ne'er break up.
And Sabbaths have no end."
After attending with zest upon all the religious services of
the day, he retired to rest, apparently in his usual health —
his last act having been to minister to the comfort of a sick"
servant. Before the next mDrning he was violently seized with
what seemed at first to be one of the customary bilious at-
tacks; but it proved a fatal and insidious pneumonia. Per-
haps it was the more fatal, because he was providentially de-
prived of the assistance of his faitliful family physidan for
nearly twenty-four hours after his first attack. When he first
secured medical aid, his symptoms were most ominous; and
after one or two delusive promises of relaxation, the disease
finished its deadly work on Sabbath. April the 9th. His shat-
tered frame had not the springs of an effectual resistance, and
succumbed soon before a malady wliich is terrible even to the
strongest.
Tlie Wednesday after he was seized. West Hanover i'res-
bytery eanveued at Brown's church, Cumberland, about fifteen
miles from the Seminary. I'erhaps the last business act which
Dr. Sampson performed was one eminently eliaracteristic of
his punctuality. It was to send, by one of his colleagues, his
excuse for absence from Presbytery, and a business paper of
some importance to a third person, which he directed, with a
special charge, to be placed without fail in the hands '3f the
moderator. When the Presbytery learned his threatening con-
dition, it proceeded at once to set apart a season of special ia-
424 WF.MOIRS OF FRANCIS S SAMPSON, D D
tercession on his behalf. Highly as he had beeu appreciated bj-
hih- brethren before, when thej began to look in the face the
consequences 'Df his loss, thev seemed to awaken to a new sense
of his value to the Seminary and the church. On Fridaj-, and
again on Saturday, when persons were recognized approach-
ing the church, who were known to come direct from him, the
huuse was almost deserted by the members, who came out, by
;in irrepressible imi)ulse. to learn his state. Friday, when it
was reported that there was a faint premise of amendment, it
was agreed that the Presbytery should again unite in a season
of intercession on his behalf; and prayer was offered, by the
re\ered pastor of the College church, with a faith, tenderness,
fervency and devout submission, which will never be forgotten
to the dying day of those who heard it. Cbuld such a prayer
fail to enter into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoih? Doubtless
it tvas heard and accepted; accepted even as that more bitter
L-ry of our divine Exemplar was accepted: '"Father, if it be
possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not my will,
but thine, be done." ''It is enough for the disciple to be as his
Master."' In all the congregations which received the newts
of our brother's danger, prayer was also made of the church
unto God for him. The anxiety of the whole community con-
cerning him revealed that he had a hold upon their respect
and affections, which WDuld not have been expected, if we re-
membered that his pursuits had beeu chiefly those of the. study,
and that he was rather among the people than of them. Per-
sons going from the Seminar}- were everywhere stopped in the
road by enquirers after his condition, in which there was a
deep concern and tenderness, which came froan the heart.
His religious exercises were just those of which his Chris-
tian life gave pfDraise — without fear, for he had long lived in
the assurance of hope; and without transport, for a disease so
violent and prostrating left no animal spirits for such feel-
ings, foreign as they were at all times, to his religious habits.
Early in his sickness, but after his disease had manifested it-
self as a dangerous one, he remarked to one of his nurses. "I
find now, what I have always felt, that a sick bed is no place
to prepare for eternity. But I have not that to do. I long ago
made my peace with Crod. The God I have feebly preached
to others is my support."
ME^roiRS OF FR\I^CI3 S. SAMPSON, D. D. 425
His disease, attacking as it did the limgs. made talking
both painful and injurious; and be and all about him were
strongly inhibited by the physicians to converse much. He
yielded an implicit 'Dbedience. remarking several times, "My
life belongs not to myself, but to the church, the Seminary, my
family, and to society; and it is any duty now not to consult'
my own inclinations, but conscientiously to observe the means
of preserving life, as long as there is any hope." Indeed, he
seemed to study calmness of emotions, and even to avert his
iniud from those objects which would excite the mt)re near
domestic affections, which were, to one blessed as he was, so
tendei". and in the prospect 'Df their interruption, so harrow-
ing. Thus he observed the means of life with the same com-
posed, conscientious principle with whicli he had usually ad-
dressed himself to any other duty.
During the later and more decisive assaults of his disease,
reason at times wavered on her seat. In his lucid moments he
complained that his mind was filled with a teeming multitude
of thoughts, new, varied, strange — some 'af them perplexed
and troublous, some luminous and interesting. May it not be
that this was the strife between the bedimming. enervating do-
minion of the llesh on the one hand, and the dawnings of that
nobler life to wliicli the spirit rises when it bursts from the
mortal coil, on the other; and as the doubtful tide of combat
rolled to and fro, the shadows of earth-born dimness and con-
fusion were alternating with gleams of Heaven's own light
over his soul?
In these seasons the influence of his predominant tastes
and pursuits was strongly visible. His mind was busy with
the Word of Grod, expounding, or investigating its treasures in
the original tongues.
Three days before his death he said, "It seems to me that
all the difficult i)assages of Scripture I have ever investigated
are present to my eye now, in Oreek, Hebrew, or Chaldee, and
all clamoring for settlement. But I tell them all. Go away, I
am sick, and cannot attend to you." The last of these seasons
of wandering was the m:)rniug of the Lord's day on wliicli he
died. During this he said to one of his nurses, "See that wall-
it is all written over with Scripture promises; and they are in
letters so large that I can read them every one." It was an-
426 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D.
swcred, "Oil no, there is nothing there, except the plastering."
15nr he persisted, "Yes — they are there — cannot 1 see them?
Lay your head here, beside mine, and then jou will see them
plain." She wishing to beguile him into more composure said,
"Oh. don'r think of these things — shut your eyes, and try to be
quier." "Why," replied he, ''may I not read them? I know it
is the Sabbath; but they are all Sunday reading — they are all
from the Scripture."
Now. wlience were those characters, in\isible to all oth-
ers, but so distinct to his failing eye-sight? Doubtless, they
were recalled fram the stores of recollection, where they had
lain hid, apparently lost to himself, by a memory stimulated
into preternatural activity, either by the approach of the spir-
it's release from material bonds, or by the inexplicable influ-
ence of disease. And now the vivid conception was so bodied
forth to the mind's eve, in the season of excitement, as to seem
to liim actually pictured on the diseased retina, where the real
images of the external world were fading dimly into darkness.
And thus the walls were covered, to his eye, with the ample
scrolls of a memory enriched by years of study. How merci-
fully does God deal with his children? Here it was so 'or-
dered, that those hours, which, in our apprehensions, we only
think of as filled with anguish and fear, were beguiled with
the contemplation of those sacred truths w^hich had been his
delight in health. And is there not here another illustration of
that theory which seems S3 like truth — 'that every impression
ever made on the memory, though it may seem to us obliterat-
ed, is still there, and will some day be revived, that man's soul
is but a fearful 'Palimpsest^''* where the earlier records are.
only in seeming, removed to make way for the later, and all
the labarynthlne history will stand out in letters of light, genial
or lurid, to be re-read by the s'oul in eternity.
But after this. Dr. Sampson became more composed, and
his self possession returned completely; nor did it leave him
again till the last moment. The strife between the powers of
life and disease was decided; pain ceased, and he gently passed
away. A few hours before the closing scene, his children were
jihiced around his bed side, to receive his last wards: but the
*DeQuincey,
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 427
efrort to speak to them was so laborious, that at tlie suggeis-
riou of one of the physicians, he relinquished it. After they
reiiii^d, he said with the most extreme difficulty, gasping a
word a' a time in whispers, between his labored respirations:
"1 liadsome things which I wished to say to them; but perhaps
it is most wisely ordered that I should not say them. They
know how I have lived. I have always taught them that God's
^^'ord i^ the onl}' supreme rule of life. They have that — and it
is eiuiugh. Perhaps they might have put my last words be-
fore God's Word." This was the last connected sentence he
spoke.
How could he, whose business was to expound the Sacred
8crij)tures, have closed his life more appropriately, than with
such an acquiiescence in their complete sufficiency — coming as
it did from the heart of a dying father?
Thu:s he quietly passed away, about 5 o'clock in the after-
noon. The folbwing Tuesday, he was borne to the grave, in
the Seminary burying ground, by the hands of his })upils, and in
the presence of a multitude, every one of whom seemed a sin-
cere mourner.
CHAPTER VIII.
Practical Teachings of such a Life. Reward of Patience and Faith
Humility crowned with Honor. The Price of great Usefulness- Home
Institutions must be sustained. Men of deep toned Piety and pro-
found Scholarship demanded.
And here we should end our task, if we listened only to
the promptings of our own feelings — leaving this life and this
death t'D speak for ttliemselves. But it is necessary that w(?
should endeavor to enforce, more pointedly, a few of the im-
pressive lessons which Providence has taught us in giving, and
then taking, such a man. Of the appeal which his exannple
speaks to the pious youth of our churches, to devote thenn-
selves wholly to God, of tlie loss which the Seminary and the
Presbyterian church has sustained, of the darkness of this act
of her head, and of the duty of implicit trust in the righteomsi-
uess of his mysterious dealings, nothing will be said.
428 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D.
But looking back to tiie source of Dr. Sampson's Christian
life, in the holy example, prayers and instructi'3ns of the Rev.
Tliointon Rogers, we see a delightful illustration of the truth,
that "he which converteth the sinner from the error of his
wa^'s," not only "saveth a soul froiii death, hut hideth a mul-
titude of sins." \Yhen that good man la^bored in faith for the
salvation of his irreligious pupil, he little knew what he wais
doing. His thought was to pluck him from perdition, and to
make him a Christian, possibly an humble minister. He did
not know that he was instrumentally contributing the most es-
sential part t'3wards the raising up of a master in Israel, whose
steady and benign Mght was to be a blessing to two great
coanmonwealths, and whose Christian virtues were to be re-
produced in man}' scores of pastors, many of them, in their
turn, pillars in the church, and fountains of an influence, na-
tional in its extent! Nor do we know, when we endeavor to
do good, with how glorious a result our generous Master may
reward us. Let us, then, not be weary in well doing. IVfr.
Rogers died in the prime of his life, and his friends mourned
over the mystery of such a stroke upon such a man, as we have
lately over the loss of his more eminent pupil. But, if his
ministerial life had resulted in nothing else but the gift oif
one such man to the church, would it not have been a sufficient
result?
Again. The weakness of our faith often staggers at sacri-
fices of worldly good to be made, and difficulties to be en-
countered, in the path of duty. Let all to whom the voice of
God comes, learn by the example of our brother, to dismiss
these fears, and trust the united command and promise, "Trust
in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and
verily thou shalt be fed." It was required of Dr. Sampson, in
order to become a minister of the Gospel, to relinquish, ap-
parently, the direct road to wealth and distinction. In follow-
ing the beck of his master, he was eoaiipelled to brave many
obstacles, and face threatening privations. But they were, at
last, little more than threats. By the divine 'blessing on his
own economy and industry, he was able at all times to sur-
round himself, and those dear to him, with the comforts and
decencies of life; and these increased ultimately to an ample
competency. His temporal life knew no real want; and there
MEMOIRS Ot* FtlANOtS S. SAMPSON, D C. 42i)
was no actual sacrifice of that external comfort with which
unbelief would have scared him from his duty. And after all —
in seeking the testimony of a good conscience towards God,
he found that distinction which he had not sought; he gratified
Ms friends by winning a far higher social position than that
which he seemed to relinquish to serve Grod; and became the
ornament and pride of his family. Let no man be afraid to
trust Grod.
We find in the foregoing history also, a beautiful example
of the honor which comes to true humility. If there was one
moral trait pre-eminent in Dr. Sampson, it was modesty. The
desire for self-display seemed to be foreign to his nature. He
ever thought others better than himself. He never schemed or
planned for promotion, but was guided by a magnanimous and
elevated delicacy, which refused to lift a finger, even by any
honorable competition, to secure distinction for himself. And
in every public position, on tlie floor of every church court, his
humility shrank from that prominence to which his wisdom
entitled him. But while, with a single eye, forgetful of self,
he was taking care of his Master's interests, that Master to'ok
care of his reputation. Though his position was one of scholas-
tic privacy, and his talents were rather solid than brilliant, he
steadily grew upon the appreciation of his brethren, until his
early death found him enjoying a confidence, love and admira-
tion, solid and extensive enough to satisfy any ambition.' Where
is the man, of only thirty-nine years, within the limits of the
whole Presbyterian church, whose death would now leave a
gap harder to be filled, or excite a sorrow more general and
sincere?
While our brother sought out the lowest seat, God said to
him, and the church repeated, ''Go up higher." Would that this
example might seal upon the heart of every young minister in
our church the lesson, "Every one that exalteth himself shall
be abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.''
Would that all the unworthy arts of an unsanctifled ambition
were as unknown in the church as they were in the conduct of
this pure. Christian gentleman. They are as foolish and sui-
cidal as they are unworthy.
The results of Dr. Sampson's life aud labors present a pain-
ful— yea, almost a cruel illustration of the evils which have
430 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D.
more than once flowed from the tardy and partial co-operation,
extended by our churches at the South, to their own public in-
stitntions. Here were industry, talents and acquirements thar
would have been sought after and valued hy the largest theolo-
gical schools in the land. Believing that (iod's providence
pointed him to Union Seminary as his post, 'he pouied out the
riches of his mental treasures in her service. And to purchase
what? Was it a worthy result of such a life, or a sufficient'
recompense for such an expenditure, to train a body of pupils,
ranging, during the sixteen years of his labors, from eleven to
twenty? Let us not be misunderstood. We know that, intrin-
sically, the training of one true minister — yea, the salvation of
one soul, is worth the whole labors of an army of the most
learned divines during their whole life. And were there but
the one soul in the world, liable to perdition, it would be tlie
part oif sober wisdom to expend all of this labor in its behalf
alone. But while the field is so vast, and so white to the har-
vest, and opportunities for doing good open so immeasurably
before the eye of Christian enterprise, it is a waste to expend,
for a very few, labors and talents which might elsewhere have
blessed a multitude. We may securely ask this question, Sup-
jjose that the warmest friends of Union Seminary in 1838, being
also the true friends of Dr. Sampson and of Christ's cause,
could have foreseen that he had just sixteen precious years to
labor; that he would soon attain such eminent capacities for
his work; and that in spite of his acknowledged abilities, the
lack of hearty co-operation and wise and seasonable effort on
the part of others, would cabin and confine his field of use-
fulness to this narrow bound — would they themselves have been
willing, would they have dared, to urge him to make the un-
equal sacrifice? A regard to the interests of Christ's kingdom
would have forbidden it. They would have said, "We dare not
.selfishly expend so much, for so small a result. The field is the
world. Let him go where, being better sustained, he can effect
something larger for his Master."' But they hoped better things
for their own enterprise; and hoping, they honestly invited
him to enlist in that important cause, in which they were sin-
cerely struggling. He obeyed the call. He toiled on, hoping
against hope, with magnanimous seilf-devotion; and most like-
ly, sacrificed not only his labors, but his life, an expenditure
MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 431
parlially useless, iii eiideavoriuji' to bear his uueqiial buideii.
And now, after the catastrophe, as his friends stand over the
grave of so much that was noble in morals, wise in understand-
ing and vigorous in action, they feel a regret, cruel, yea, im-
medicable, except by the submissiveness of faith, that his prec-
ious life was, in part, spent in vain. Not in vain, thank Cxod!
as to his reward, nor useless as to those indirect results, which,
we trust, the wisdom aind grace of God will bring out of his
labors and example. But he was permitted to reap but a part
of those abundant fruits whicli such labors should have earned,
in his own life time, in such a country and such an age as ours.
And this regret is ever embittered by the s3"mptoms of return-
ing prosperity and extending usefulness, which now appear in
his darling institution. How touching the fate, that after six-
teen years of toil, and hopes deferred, he was snatched awavi
just as the smiles of success began to gladden liis 'heart! But
here, our regret is softened by the thought, that he has en-
tered upon a reward of his labors far sweeter than that of a
visible success.
But this is not the first (would that it might be the last)
instance, in which our people have been half aroused by a par-
tiail sense of our social necessities, so as to set on foot some,
weak and half endowed effort for their supply. And then they
supinely relax, and even make the half starved weakness of
those institutions which they call their own, and whose ill suc-
cess is their own loss and shame, the pretext for bestowing their
indolent and heedless favors on foreign institutions, which are
flourishing and popular because their natural owners and sup-
porters, with a wiser forecast and energy, stood by them in
their weakness. Meantime, those nobler spirits, who have been
thrust forward into the breach, and whose clearer vision sees
the vital importance of home enterprises to all our vital inter-
ests, wear away the springs of life, in a generous but useless
sacrifice. And (meantime the commonwealth, for the lack of
these home institutions, lags farther and farther in the rear,
and sends forth her money, her sons, her energies, her life
l)lood, to fecundate the soils and adorn the fame of rival states!
Must a hecatomb of her noblest lives be immolated, before the
slumbering spirit of Virginia will awake to know and embrace
her own interests?
432 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. ^AMPSON, D. D.
But }*et, as long as there is hope of Virginia, tliat "she is
not dead, but sleepeth." let her sons hear the voice which de-
mands that they shall be satisfied with none but the liighe.st
acquirements. In the example which we have been contemplat-
ing, the voung ministers of our church ma}' see the importance,
and the solemn obligation of aiming at the highest standard of
theological learning. If the church, if our Synods, would retain
their respectabilitv and influence, thev must have a reserved
corps of men, whose well-trained faculties, wide scholarship,
and elevated character, will fit the^m to step at once into any
of our places of trust and responsibility. Otherwise, we are re-
duced to one of two equally mortifying and ruinous alterna-
tives, t3 commit those responsible posts to ill-furnislied and in-
competent men, who will betray the influence and character of
our enterprises, in this age of lionorable competition and vigor-
ous progress in all other sections of our land, or else go
begging to other sections, to get such men as they can
afford to spare us. Have these Synods such a b:»dy of reserved
talent and learning now^? If the valuable men. who now fill the
professprships and presidencies of our Presbyterian Colleges
and State Universities, were removed by death, could the Syn-
ods point with confidence to sons of theirs, and tell them to
step into the breaches, and account them fitted to take up the
fallen mantles? If the chairs of our Seminary were vacated,
would or would not the Synods be at fault, in their search for
successors, to wh3m they could confidingly commit tho.se im-
portant posts? When Dr. Sampson fell prematurely, did they
feel that it was easy to find many men in their borders, from
among whom to select his successor?
It is not necessary that these questions be answered here.
There may be an evil in the church far more portentous than a
stinted supply of ministers. It is that which comes, when her
younger ministry are satisfied with those more shallow attain-
ments, which secure them a modicum of popular applause and
favor, indolently recline upon the dependence of a facile and
plausible pulpit talent, and relax those severer studies, by which
the profound scholar is formed. It is an evil which strikes at
he root of our prosperity-, and when it prevails, can only be re-
paired at the root, and therefore, repaired tediously. For these
MEMOIES OF TRANCIS S. SAMPSON. D. D. 433
surface men cannot even reproduce their kind, sorry as is their
kind, and the general prevalence of such a type of ministerial
acquirement renders inevitable a subsequent dearth of even
second rate ^mimsters, and a state of starveling dependence on
other sections.
We therefore beseech our young brethren, as for our life,
to imitate the noble example which God has mercifully given
our Zion iu our lost brother, and to resolve that they will be
satisfied with nothing short of the fullest development of facul-
ties, the soundest acquirements, and the most scrijitural, hum^
ble and manly piety, which are within the reach jf the most
sustained diligence. This is no less the commaud of duty, than
of a sanctified ambition. We are to love and serve God with
all our heart, and mind, and strength, and soul. We are par-
tially guilty of burying our talents, unless we prepare ourselves
to meet the highest exigencies which are within the possibilities
of our natural gifts.
In the life of Dr. Sampson, we see how directly that kind of
scholarship which is usually esteemed least practical in a min-
ister of the gospel, an extensive acquaintance with oriental lit-
erature, was made to subserve the interests of the church — yea,
liow immediately and necessarily those interests would have
sutt'ered, for the lack of them.
If there is one thing proved by an experience of some twen-
ty-five years, it is, that none but first rate men can now effec-
tually subserve the institutions and interests of these Synods,
in their prominent posts. To secure so many such men as they
will need, there must be a liberal number, especially among
their younger ministry, capable of the greatest things, from
among whom they may choose. We do not expect to find plants
of tallest and most vigorous growth among the few untimely
shoots which spring up here and there iu the season of wintry
sterility. We expect to find them all puny, for the same rea-
son which makes them few. And if one is found truly vigor-
ous, it is a true lusus naturae. We look for the full grown plant
amidst the teeming abundance of the fruitful summer, and in
the thickest part of a thick and emulous crop.
Unless we have, then, such a body of noble men, ''whose
hearts God hath touched," we do not say our cause is lost, but
we say that success, worthy of the cause, is impossible. The
434 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON. D. D.
church expects every man ro be the greatest he can be. She
needs men who have begnn. in the first phice, by hiying tlie
foundation of a thorougli and full academical course, which
entirely transcends that scanty range of scholarshii) which is
too often the limit of our collegiate courses; or else, if this is
lacking, men who have repaired the lack by the herculean exer-
tions of later yeai-s. Then, they must be men who superadd to
thif rot only such a theological training as will pass them ered-
it:i) l\ through Presbyteries, and suffice for the making of gen-
teel little sermons, but a thorough and ever widening knowl-
edge of the original languages of the Scriptures, and the do-
ings and doctrines of the great masters of theobgy in all ages.
They must also be men free from trivial but odious tricks of
personal indulgence or weakness — men. whose directness of
aim, whose humble dignity of character, whose self possession,
whose fervent energy in doing good will impress and awe the
popular mind. For, without these iiioial traits, brilliant facul-
ties and acquirements will be to the church little more than
splendid vexations. And last — they must be men whose eye is
single, whose hearts and purposes are governed by a profound
and steady love of God. Such was Francis S. Sampson. Would
that all the sons of our church might be such. She has had no
more pure, more symmetrical, more elevated example, to which
she may point licr yonng ministers and members, and say, "Tie
ve followers of liini, even as he also was of Christ."
TRUE COURAGE.
A Disfoiirse rommemorative of Lieut. -GeDeral Thomas J. Jack
son.
Note: Geueial Jackson died Mar 10th, 18G3. In June fol-
h)vving-, the author was ui-fiently requested to deliver a memor-
ial sermon for him in Richmond. Havinj;- acceded to this re-
(juest, he prepared the following- discourse, and delivered it in
the First I'resbyterian Church, the evening of the first Sabbath
of June, before a vast assemblage of officers, soldiers, and citi-
zens. If the reader lias happened to have seen also the Life of
(Jeneral Jackson, he will notice a certain similarity of thoughts,
and even of language, in the sermon and in some parts of the
narrative. The author has not been careful ta suppress the
whole of these in republishing the sermon, because he was not
afraid of the charge of repeating his own matter, where it form-
ed so appropriate, and indeed, so necessary a part of both com-
positions.
■Be not afi-aid of them that kill the body, and after that, have no more than
they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him which, after he
hath killed, hath power to cast into hell: yea. I .say unto you. fear him.'"— Luke 12:4-5.
A little wisdom and experience will teach us to be very
modest, in interpreting God's purposes by his providences. ''It
is the glory of the Lord to conceal a thing." His designs are
too vast and complex for our puny minds to infer them, from
the fragments of his ways which fall under our eyes. Yet, it is
evident, that He intends us to learn instruction from the events
which occur before us under the regulation of his holy will.
The profane are more than once rebuked by him (as Is. 5: 12)
l»ecause "they regard not rhe work of the Lord, neither con-
sider the operation of his hands." And our Saviour sharply
chides the Jewish Pharisees: "O ye hypocrites! ye can discern
the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the
435
436 TEUE COURAGE.
times?" (Matt. 16: 3.) We are not therefore to refuse the lea-
sons of those events which Providence evolves, because caution
and humility are required in learning them. We have a guide,
which will conduct us securely to the understanding of so much
of them as God intends us to study: That guide is the Holy
Scriptures. Among the several principles which they lay down
for the explanation of God's dealings, it is suflQcient for our
present task, to declare this one: That the characters of his
children, which exhibit the scriptural model, are given as ex-
aanples, to be studied and imitated by us. He would thus teach
us more than those abstract conceptions of Christian excellence,
which are conveyed by general definitions of duty; he would
give us a living picture and concrete idea. He thus aims to
stimulate our aspirations and efforts, by showing us that the at
tainments of holiness are within human reach. He enstamps
the moral likeness on the imitative soul by the warmth of ad-
miration and love. That such is the use God intends us to
make of noble examples, the Apostle James teaches us (5: 10) —
"Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name
of the Lord, for an example of suffering affliction and of pa-
tience"'; and the Epistle to the Hebrews (6: 12 j when ir desires
us to "be followers of them who, through faith and patience,
inherit the promises."'
Common sense teaches us then, from these texts, that the
lesson is important and impressive, in proportion as the ex
ample given us was illustrious. By this rule, God addresses to
us instruction of solemn emphasis, in the character, and the
death, which we have now met to commemorate. Our dead hero
is God's sermon to us, his embodied admonition, his incorporate
discourse, to inculcate upon us the virtues with which he was
adorned by the Holy Ghost; and especially those traits of the
citizen, the Christian, and the soldier, now most essential to
the times. He calls us, not to exhaust the occasion in useless
sensibilities, but to come and learn the beauty of holiness, by
the light of a shining example; and to let our passionate love
and grief burn in upon the plastic heart, the impress of his prin-
ciples. Happy shall I be, if I can so conceive and execute my
humble ta.sk, as to permit this cliaracter to speak its own higli
lesson to your hearts. The only reason which makes you think
this task appropriate to me, is doubtless this: that I had the
TRUE COURAGE. 437
privik'.ue of his friendship, and an opportunify for inlimately
observing his character, during the most brilliant part of his
career. The expectations which you form from this fact, must
be my justification from the charge of egatism. if I should al-
lude to my own observations of him, in exemplifying these in-
structions. But I must also forewarn you, that should there
be any expectation of mere anecdote to gratify an idle curios-
ity, or of any disclosures of confidential intercourse, now doubly
sanctified by the seal of the tomb, it will not be gratified. And
let it be added, that however the heart may prompt encomiums
on the departed, these are not the direct object, but only the
incidental result, of this discourse. I stand here, as God's her-
ald, in God's sanctuary, on his holy day, by his authority. My
business is, not to praise any man, however beloved and be-
wailed, but only to unfold God's message through his life and
death. Among that circle of virtues which his symmetrical
character displayed, since time would fail me to do justice to
all. I propose more especially, to select one. for our considera-
tion, his rhristian courage.
Courage is the opposite of fear. But fear may be described
either as a feeling and appreciation of existing danger, or an
undue yielding to that feeling. It is in the latter sense, that it
is unworthy. In the foiiner, it is the necessary result of the
natural desire for well-being, in a creature endued with reflec-
tion and forecast. Hence, a true courage implies the existence
of fear, in the form of a sense, that is, of a feeling of danger.
For courage is but the overcoming of that feeling by a worthier
motive. A danger unfelt is as though it did not exist. Xo man
could be called brave for advancing coolly upon a risk of which
he was totally unconscious. It is only where there is an exer-
tion of fortitude in bearing up against the consciousness of
peril, that true courage has place. If there is any man who can
literally say that "he knows .no fear," then he deserves no
credit for his composure. True, a generous fortitude, in re-
sisting the consciousness of danger, will partly extinguish it;
so that a sensibility to it, over- sensitive and prominent among
the emotions, is an indication of a mean self-love.
There are three emotions which claim the name of eoairage.
Tlie first is animal courage. This is but the ferment of animal
passions and blind sympathies, combined with an irrational
438 TRUE COURAGE.
tliouglitlessues.s. The man is courajicous. nilv liccaiise lie re-
fuses to reflect; bold because he is bliud. Tliis animal hardi-
hood, according to the obvious truths explained above, does
not deserve the name of true courage; because there is no ra-
tional fortitude in resisting the consciousness of danger. And
it is little worthy of trust; for having no foundation in a reason-
ing self command, a sudden, vivid perception of the evil hither-
to unnoted, may. at any moment. suj»])lant it with a panic, as
nnreasoni- and intense as the ])revious fury. The second
species of courage is that ])rompted by the spirit of personal
honor. There is a consciousness of risk; but it is manfully con-
trolled by the sentiment of pride, the keener fear of reproach,
and the desire of a})plause. This kind of fortitude is more wor-
thy of the name of c oui-age, because it exhibits self-command.
But after all. the motive is personal and selfish; and therefore
the sentiment does not rise to the level of a virtue. The third
species .is the moral courage of him who fears (lod, and, for
that reason, fears nothing else. There is an intelligent a])pre-
hension of danger; there is the natural instinct of self-love desir-
ing to preserve its own well-being; but it is curbed and governed
by the sense of duty, and desire for the approbation of God.
This alone is tiue couiage; true virtue; for it is rational, and
its motive is moral and unselfish. It is a true Christian grace,
when found in its purest forms, a grace whose highest exem-
plar, and whose source, is the Divine Redeemer; whose princi-
ple is that i)arenr grace of the sun].fnith. "David, and Samuel,
and the prophets, through faith subilued kingdoms, * * *
waxed valiant in tight, turned to fiiglit the armies of the aliens."
(Heb. 11: 33, 31.) Trust in God, in his faithfulness, his apprt)-
bation, his reward, his command to brave the ris(iues allotted
to them, was their motive. But "Christ dwelleth in our hearts
by faith." (Eph. 3: 17.» This is the principle by which the soul
of the believer is brought into living union with Christ; and
the heart, otherwise sapless and withered, is jienetrated by the
vital saj) of his holy Spirit. He is the head; men of faith his
members; he the stock; they the branches; his divine principles
circulate from him into their souls, and assimilate them to him.
But the whole mission of Jesus ("hrist on earth is a divine exr
emplification of moral courage. What was it. save the unsel-
fish sentiment of duty, overruling the anticipations of personal
TRUE COURAGE. 437
evil, whic-li made him declare, iu prospect of all the woes of his
iucaniatiou, "Lo I come, in the volume of the book it is writ-
ten of me; I delight to do thy will Oh mv God?"' What else
caused hiui to press forward with eager, hungering haste,
through tile toils and obloquy of his persecuted life, to that
baj)tism of blood, which awaited him in Jerusalem? What else
nerved him, when deserted, betrayed, and destined to death,
desolate, and fainting, amidst a pitiless flood of enemies,
one word of disclaimer might have rescued him. to refuse that
word, and assert his rightful kingship over Zion, with a tenacity
more indomitable than the grave? Jesus Christ is the divine
pattern and fountain of heroism. Earth's true heroes are they
who derive their courage from him.
Yet it is true, the three kinds of bravery which have been
defined, may be mixed in many breasts. Some who have true
moral courage may also have animal hardihood; and others of
the truly brave may lack it. Xo Christian courage, perhaps,
exists without a union of that which the spirit of personal hon-
or, in its innocent phase, inspires; and many men of honor have
perhaps some shade of the pure sentiment of duty, mingled
with the pride and self-glorifying, which, chiefly nerve their
fortitude. But he is the bravest man who is the best Christian. It
is he who truly fears God, who is entitled to fear nothing else.
I. He whose conduct is governed by the fear of God, is
brave, because the powers of his soul are in harmony. There
is no mutiny or war within, of fear against shame, of duty
against safety, of conscience and evil desire, by which the bad
man has his heart unnerved. All the nobler capacities of the
soul combine their strength, and especially, that master power,
of which the wicked are compelled to sing: ''It is conscience
that makes cowards of us all," invigorates the soul with her
]ilan(lits. In conscious rectitude there is strength.
This strength General Jackson eminently possessed. He
walked iu the fear of God, with a perfect heart, keeping all his
commandments and ordinances, blameless. Never has it been
my happiness to know one of greater purity of life, or more;
regular and devout habits of prayer. As ever in his great task-
master's eye, he seemed to devote every hour to the sentiment
of duty, and only to live to fulfill his charge as a servant of
God. Of this be assured, that all his eminence and success as
440 TRUE COURAGE.
a great and brave soldier, were based on liis eminence and
sanctity as a Cliristian. Tluis, every power of liis sonl wa»
brought to move in sweet accord, under the guidance of an en-
lightened and honest conscience. How could such a soul fail
to be courageous for the right?
But especially did he derive firmness and decision, frouL
the i)eculiar strength of his conviction concerning the right-
eousness and necessity of this war. Had he not sought the light
of the Holy Scriptures, in thorough examination and prayer,
had his pure and honest conscience not justified the act, even
in the eye of that Scai'cher of hearts, whose fear was his ever-
present, ruling principle, never would he have drawn his sword
in this great quarrel, at the prompting of any sectional pride, or
ambition, or interest, or anger, or dread of oblocjuy. But hav-
ing judged for himself, in all sincerity, he decided, with a force
t)f conviction as fixed as the everlasting hills, that our enemies
were the aggressors, that they assailed vital, essential rights,
and that resistance unto death was our right and duty. On the
correctness of that decision, reached through fervent prayer,
under the teachings of the sure word of Scripture, through the
light of the Holy Spirit, which he was assured God vouchsafed
to him, he stood prepared to risk, not only earthly prospects
and estate, but an immortal soul; and to venture, without one
quiver of doubt or fear, before the irrevocable bar of God the
Judge. The great question: ''What if I die in this quarrel,"
was deliberately settled; so deliberately, so maturely, that he
was ready to venture his everlasting all upon the belief tha.t
this was the path of duty.
II. The second reason which makes the man of faith brave,
is stated in the context: "Are not five sparrows sold for two
farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But
even the very hairs of your head are all numbered: Fear not
therefore; ye are of more value than many sparrows." God's
special providence is over all his creatures, and all their ac-
tions; it is over them that fear him; for their good only. By
that almighty and o'mniscient providence, all events are either
produced; or at least permitted, limited, and overruled. There
is no creature so great as to resist its power, none so minute
as to evade its wisdom. Each particular act among the most
multitudinous which confound our attention by their number,
TRUE COURAGE. 441
01' file mosf foi'tiiitoiis, whii-li entirely baffle onr iiKjuiry into
tlieii' eanses, is regnhited by this intelli<;ent purpose of (lod.
Even when the thousand missiles of death, invisible to mortal
si<ihr. and sent forth aimless by those who launched them, shoot
in inexplicable confusion over the battle-fleld, his eye gives each
one an aim and a purpose, according to the plan of his wisdom.
Thus teacheth our Saviour.
Xow, the child of God is not taught what is the special
will ^f God as to himself; he has no revelation as to the secui'-
ity of his person. Xor does he presume to predict what par-
ticular dispensation God will grant to the cause in which he is
embarked. But he knows that, be it what it may, it will be wise,
and right, and good. Whether the arrows of death shall smite
him or pass him by, he knows no more than the unbelieving sin-
ner; but lie knows that neither event can happen him without
the purpose and will of his Heavenly Father. And that will,
I)e it whichever it may, is guided by divine wisdom and love.
Should the event prove a revelation of God's decision, and this
was the place, and this the hour, for life to end; then he ac-
cepts it with calm submission; for are not the time and place
chosen for him by the All- wise, who loves him from eternity?
Him who walks in the true fear of God, God loves. He hath
adopted him as his son forever, through his faith on the right-
eousness of the Redeemer. The divine anger is forever extin-
guished by the atonement of the Lamb of God, and the un-
changeable love of God is conciliated to him by the spotlessi
righteousness of his substitute. The preciousness of the un-
speakable gift which God gave for his redemption, evcni the life
of the Only-begotten, and the earnest of the Holy Ghost, be-
stowed upon liim at first while a guilty sinner, are the argu-
ments to tliis believer, of the richness and strength of God's
love to him. He knows that a love so eternal, so free, so strong,
in the breast of such a God and Saviour, can leave nothing un-
bestowed, which divine wisdom perceives to be f>nr his true
good. "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him uj)
for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all
things." (Kom. 8: 32.) And this love has enlisted for his safe-
guard, all the attributes of God, which are the security of his
own blessedness. Why dwelleth the divine mind in ineffable,
perpetual peace? Not because there are none to assail it; but
442 TRUE COURAGE.
because God is conscious in liiniself of intinire ivsonrces, for de-
fense and vii-lory; of a knowledge wliicli uj cnnninj;- can de-
ceivt'; of a })i)wer which no combination can fatigue. Wel'l,
these same attributes, whicli support the stability of Jehovah's
throne, surround the weakest child of G-od, with all the zeal of
redeeming love. "The eternal God is his refuge; and under-
neath liim are the everlasting arms.'' (Dent. 33: 27.) Thei'e-
f )re s:iirh the Apostle, that the believer hath "his heart and
mind garri-;oned by rhe peace of God which passeth all under-
standing." (Phil. 4: T.I And therefore our Saviour saitli, with
a literal (-mphasis of which our faint hearts are slow to take
in the full glory: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give
unto you." (dolin 14: 27.) In i)roportion as God's children have
faith ro embrace the love of <iL)d to them, are they lifted in
spirit to his very throne, and can look down upon the rage of
battle, and the tumult of the i)eople, with some of the holy dis-
dain, the ineffable security, which constitute the blessedness of
(Jod. "Their life is hid with Christ in God."
Ir has been said that General Jackson was a fatalist, by
those who knew not whereof they affirmed. He was a strong
believer in the special providence of God. The doctrine of a
Fate is, that all events are fixed by an immanent, }>hysical ne-
cessity in the series of causes and effects themsehes; a neces-
sity as blind and unreasoning as the tendency of rhe stone
towards the earth, when unsu}t})orted from beneath; a neces
sity as much controlling the intelligence and will (tf God as of
creatures; a necessity which admits no modification of i-esults
through the agency of second causes, but renders them inojtera-
tive and non-essential, save as the mere, passive stepping stones
in rhe inevitable progression. The doctrine of a Providence
teaches that the regular, natural agency of second causes is
sustained, preserved, and regulated by the power and intelli-
gence of God; and that in and through that agency, every event
is directed by his most wise and holy will, according to his plan,
and the laws of nature which he has ordained. Fatalism tend^'
to apathy, r o absolute inaction: a belief in- the })rovidence of the
J^criptures, ro inrelligenr and hopeful effort. It does not over-
throw, but rather establish the agency of second causes, be-
cause it teaches us that God's purpose to effectuate events only
through them (save in the case of miracles) is as steadfast, as
TRUE COURAGE. 443
his pnri)oso to vixvvy i»iit liis ekn-ual idan. Hence it produces a
conibiiiatiou of coiiraj^eoiis serenity. — with cheerful (lili«j;ence
in the use of means. My illustrious leader was as laborious as
he was trustful; and laborious precisely because he was trust
ful. Every thing that self-sacrificing care, and prepai'ation, and
forecast, and toil, could do, tj prepare and to earn success, hi;
did. .Vnd therefore it was, that G^od, without whom "the watch-
man waketli but in vain," usually bestowed success. So like
wise, his belief in the superintendence of the Almighty was a
most strong and living conviction. In every order, or dispatch,
anmnincing a victary, he was })rom])t to ascribe tlie result to
the Lord of Hosts; and those simple, emphatic, devout ascrip-
tions were with him no unmeaning formalities. In the very
tlusli of triumph, he has been known to seize the junctui'e for
the earnest inculcation of this trutli upon the minds of his sub-
ordinates. On the momentous morning of Friday, June 27th,
1802, as the different corps of the patriot army were moving to
their respective posts, to fill their parts in the mighty combina-
tion of their chief, after Jackson had held his final interview
with him, and resumed his march for his position at ('old Har
1)our, his conrmand was misled, by a misconception of his
guides, and seemed about to mingle with, and confuse, another
part of our forces. ^lore than an hour :)f seemingly ]»recious
time was expended in rectifying this mistake; while the boom-
ing of cannon in the front told us that the struggle had begun,
and made our breasts thrill with an agony of suspenst\ lest the
irreparable hour should be lost by our delay; f;)r we had still
many miles to march. When this anxious fear was suggested
privately to Jackson, he answered, with a calm and assured
countenance: "Xo; let us trust that the providence of our God
will ;so overrule it, that no mischief shall result." And verily;
no mischief did result. Pijvidence brought us precisely into
conjunction with the bodies with which we were to co-operate;
the battle was joined at rlie rigiit juncturt^ and by the lime the
stars appeared, the right wing of the enemy, with which he
was ap})ointed to deal, was hurled in utter rout, across the river,
^lore than once, when sear to bring one of his )ld fighting bri-
gades into action, I had noticed him sitting motionless ujion his
horse with his right hand uplifted, while the war worn column
poured in stern silence close by his side. At first it did not ap-
444 TKUE COURAGE
ponr whether it was mere abstraction of t]i(>ii,u]it. or a posture
to relieve his fatioue. But at Port Kepublic, I saw it again;
and watchinji liim more narrowl3-, was convinced bj his closed
I'vcs and moving lips, that he was wrestling in silent prayer. I
thought that I could surmise what was then passing through
his fervent soul; the sovereignty- of that Providence which
worketh all things after the counsel of his own will, and giveth
the battle not to the strong, nor the race to the swift: his own
fearful responsibility, and need of that counsel and sound wis
dom, which God alone can give; the crisis of his 'beloved coun-
try, and the balance trembling between defeat and victory;
the precious lives of his veteram?, which the inexorable neces-
sities of war compelled him to jeopardize; the immortal souls
passing to their account, perhaps unprepared; the widowhood
and or-phanage which might result from the orders he had just
been compelled to issue. And as his beloved men swept by him
ro the front, into the storm of shot, doubtless his great heart,
as tender as it was resolute, yearned over them in unutterable
longings and intercessions, that "the Almighty would cover
them with his feathers, and that his truth might be their shield
and buckler." Surely the moral grandeur of this scene was akin
to that, when Moses stood upon the Mount of God, and lifted
up his hands, while Israel prevailed against Amalek! And what
soldier would not desire to have the .shield of such prayers, un-
der which to fight? Were they not a more powerful element
of success than the artillery, or the bayonets of the Stonewall
Brigade?
III. The true fear of God ensures the safety of the im*-
mortal soul. I'nited to Christ by faith, adopted into the un-
changing favor of God, and heir of an inheritance in the skies
which is as secure as the throne of God, the believing soul, is
lifted above the i-each of bodily dangers. But the soul is the
true man, the true self, the part which alone feels or knows,
desires or fears, sorrows or rejoices, and which lives forever.
It is its fate which is irrevocable. If it be lost, all is lost; and
finally lost; if it be secure, all other losses are secondary, yea,
in comparison, trivial. To the child of God, the rage of ene-
mies, mortal weapons, and pestilence are impotent. True, he
has no assurance that they may not reach his (body, but they
reach his body only, and,
TRUJ3 COtTRAGE. 445
''If the plague come nigh,
And sweep the wicked down to hell,
T'will raise the saints on high."
This is our Saviour's argument, "Be not afraid of Ihem
that kill the bod}-; and after that have no more that they can
do" Pagan fable perhaps intended to foreshadow this gl'orious
truth, when it deserdbed its hero with a body made invuhierable
by its bath in tlie divine river, and therefore insensible to fear,
and indifferent to the weapons of death. But the spiritual real-
ity of the allegory is found only in the Christian, who has wash-
ed his soul from the stain 'of sin (which alone causes its death),
in the Redeemer's blood. He is the invulnerable man. "The
arrow cannot make him fiee; darts are counted as stubble; he
laugheth at the shaking of a spear." He shares, indeed the
natural affections and instincts which make life sweet to every
man, and bodily pain and death formidable. But these emo-
tions of his sensuous being are counteracted by his faith, which
gives to hisis'oul a substantial, inward sense of heavenly life, as
more real and satisfying than the carnal. The clearer the faith
of the Christian, the more complete is this victory over natural
fears. To the mere unbeliever, this mortal life is his all-in-all,
Ibodily death is utter extinction, pain is the master evil, and
the grave is covered by a horror of great darkness unrelieved
by one ray of hope or light. And Christians of a weaker type,
in their weaker moments, cannot shake off the shuddering of
nature in the presence of these, the supreme evils of the na-
tural man. But as faith brightens, that tremor is quieted; the
more substantial the grasp of faith on eternal realities, the
more does the giant death dwindle in his proportions, the less
niiortal does his sword appear, the narrower and more trivial
seems the gap which he makes between this life and the higher;
because that 'better life is brought nearer to the apprehension of
the soul. Does the eagle lament to see the wolf ravage its de-
serted nest, as it betakes itself to its destined skies, and nerves
its young pinions and fires its eyes in the beam of the king of
day? The believer knows also, that should his body be smit-
ten into the grave, the resurrection day will repair all I lie
ravages of the sword, and restore the poor tenement to his oc-
cupany, "fashioned like unto Chi-ist's glorious body." He can
ado[»t the boast of inspiration : "God is our refuge and strength;
446 TteTJE COURAGE
a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear
though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be car-
ried into the midst of the sea." (Ps. 40: 1, 2.) Amidst the
storm of barrle. and even the wreck of defeat, liis steadfast
heart knows no fear.
But that the enemy of God should have courage in bat/
tie, is incomprehensible to rae. It can only be explain(Hl by
thoughtlessness. When the danger whirli assails the body
reaches the soul also, when the weapon that lays the body in
the dust, will plunge the soul into everlasting and int3lerable
torments, by what philosophy can a reasoning being brace
himself to meet it? He who has not Ood for his friend, has no
right to be brave. But we should be far from inferring thence,
that the citizen who is conscious 3f his enmity to (lod. is there-
fore justified in shunning the ex]iosure to this risk, at the ex-
pense of duty and honor. This would be but to add sin to sin.
and folly to folly. If safety is not found in the p;irh of duty,
still nure surely it will not be found, when out of it. He is in
the greatest danger, who is disobeying God; and infinite wis-
dom and power can never be at a loss for means to strike their
enemy, however far removed wounds and weapons of war may
be. To refuse a recognized duty is the surest way to alienate
the mercy of (iod. and t3 grieve that Holy Ghost, on whom we
depend for faith and repentance. The only safe or rational
course therefore, for the ungodly soldier, is to make his peace
with God at once; and thus advance with well-grounded confi-
dence in the path of liis duty, and of all men. the s )ldier has
the strongest reasons to become a Christian!
Such was the foundation of the courage of Jackson. He
walked with God. in conscions integrity; and he embraced with
all his heart "the righteousness of God which is by the faith
if Jesus Christ." His soul. I believe, dwelt habitually in the
full assurance that God was his God. and his portion forever.
His manly and vigorous faith brought heaven so near, that
death had slight terrors for him. While it would be unjust to
charge him with rashness in exposure to danger, yet whenever
his sense of duty prompted it. he seemed to risk his person with
an absolute indifference to fear. The sense of his responsibili-
ties to his country, and the heat of his mighty spirit in the
crisis of battle, might sometimes agitate him vehemently; but
TRUE COURAGE. 44'^
never was the most inmiinent personal peril seen to disturb
his equanimity for one moment. Ir is a striking trait of rhe im-
pression which he has made upon his countrymen, that while
no man could possibly ^be farther from boasting, it always be-
came the first article of the belief of those subject to his com-
mand, that he was. of course, a man of perfect courage.
But courage alone does not explain the position which he
held in the hearts of his people. In this land of heroic mem-
ories and brave men, others besides Jackson have displayed
true courage, (rod did nor endow liim with several of those
native gifts which are supposed to allure the idolatry of man-
kind towards their heroes. He affected no kingly mien nor
martial pomp; but always bore himself witli the modest pro-
priety of the Christian. Xor did he ever study ar practice those
arts, by which a Bonaparte or an Alexander kindled the enthu
siasm of their followers. The only manifestation which he ever
made of himself was in the simple and diligent performance of
the duties of his office. His part on the battle-field was usually
rather suggestive of the zeal and industry of the faithful ser-
vant, than of the contagious exaltation of a master-spirit. Na-
ture had not given to him even the corporeal gift of the trum-
pet tones, with which other leaders are said to have roused the
divine phrensy in their followers. It was only at times that
his modest and feeble voice was lifted up to his hosts; and
then, as he shouted his favorite call: 'Tress forward," the
fiery energy of his will, thrilled through his rapid utterance,
rather like the deadly clang of the rifie, than the sonorous peal
of the clarion. His was a master-spirit; but it was too simply
grand to study dramatic sensations. It impressed its might
upon the .souls of his countrymen, not through deportment, but
through deeds. Its discourses were toilsome marches and bat-
tles joined, its perorations were the thunder-claps of defeat
hurled upon the enemies of his country. It revealed itself to us
only through the purity and force of his action; and therefore
the intensity of the effect he has produced.
This may help to explain the enigma of his reimtation.
How is it that this man. of all others least accustomed to exer-
cise his own fancy, or addi-ess that of others, has stimulated the
imagination, not only of his countrymen, but of the civilized
world, above all the sons of genius among us? Hjw has he.
448 TRtJE COtJKAGE.
the most unromantic of great men, become the hero of a liAnng
romance, the ideal of an inflamed fancy in every mind, even
before his life had passed into history! How did that calm eye
kindle the fire of so passionate a love and admiration in lln-
heart of his people? He was brave, bnt not the only brave.
He revealed transcendant military talent; bnt the diadem of
his country now glows with a galaxy of such talent. He was
successful; but we have more than one captain, whose banner
never trailed before an enemy. I will tell you the solution, ll
was, chiefly, the singleness, purity, and elevation of his alms.
Every one who observed him was as thoroughly convinced of
his unselfish devotion to duty as of his courage; as certain that
no thought of personal advancement, of ambition or applause,
ever for one instant divided the homage of his heart witli his
great cause, and that ''all the ends he aimed at were his coun-
try's, his Grod's, and truth's," as that he w'as brave. The love
of his countrymen is the spontaneous testimony of the common
conscience, to the beaut}' of holiness. It is the confession of
our nature that the virtue of the Sacred Scriptures, which is a
virtue purer and loftier than that of philosophy, is the true
greatness, grandei- than knowledge, talent, courage, or success.
Here, then, as I believe, is God's chief lesson in his life and
death (and the belief encourages auspicious hopes concerning
God's designs towards us.) He would teach us the beauty and
power of pure Christianity, as an element of our social life, of
our national career. Therefore he took an exemplar of Chris-
tian sincerity, as near perfection as the infirmities of our na-
ture would permit, formed and trained in an honorable retire-
ment; he set it in the furnace of trial, at an hour when great
events and dangers had awakened the popular heart to most
intense action; he illustrated it with that species of distimc-
tion which above all others, attracts the popular gaze, military
glorj^; and held it uj) to the admiring inspection of a countr}'
grateful for the deliverances it had wrought for us. Thus he
has taught us, how good a thing his fear is. He has made all
men see and acknowledge that, in this man, his Christianity was
the fountain head of the virtues and talents, which they so
rapturously applauded; that it was the fear of God which made
him so fearless of all else; that it was the love of God wliicli
animated his energies; that it was the singleness of his aim^s
Memoirs of fbancis s. Sampson, d. d. 449
which caused his wliah^ body to be so full of light, that the
unerriug decisions of his judgment, suggested to the unrhink-
ing, tlie belief in his actual inspiration; and that the lofty cliiv-
ahy of his nature was but the reflex of the Spirit of Christ. Do
not even the profane admit this explanation of his cliaracter?
Here then, is God's lesson, in this life, to these Confederate
States: "It is righteousness that exalteth." Hear it ye young
men, ye soldiers, ye magistrates, ye law-givers; that 'iie that
exaltcth himself shall be abased; but he tliat humbleth him-
self shall be exalted.''
But what would he teach us by his death, to our view so
untimely*^ To this question, human reason can only answer,
that God's judgments are far above us, and past our finding out.
One lovely Sabbath, riding alone with me to a religious
service in a camp, General Jacksan was talking of the general
prospects of the war, hopefully, as he ever did. But at the close,
he assumed an air of intense seriousness, and said: "I do not
mean to convey the impression that I have not as much to live
for as any man, and that life is not as sweet. But I do not de-
s'ire t3 survive the independence of my country." Can this
death be the answer to that wish".' Can the solution be, that
having tried us. and found us unworthy of such a deliverer,
God ha.s hid liis favorite in tlie grave, in the brightness of his
hopes, and before his blooming honors received any blight from
disaster, from the calamities which aur sins are about to bring
upon us'.' ^ay; we will not believe that the legacy of Jack-
son's prayers was all expended by us, when he died; they wi>ll
yet avail for us all the more, that they are now sealed by his
blood. The deliverance of the Jews did not end with the un-
timely end of Judas Maccabee. The death of William of Orange
was not the death of the Dutch Republic. The lamented fall
:)f John Hampden was not the fall of the liberties of England.
And. if we may reverently associate another instance with
these, the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, was, contrary' to
the fears of his disciples, but the beginning of the sect of the
Xazarenes. So, let us hope, the tree of our liberties will flourish
but the more for the precious blood by which it is watered.
May it not be, that God, after enabling him to render all
the service which was essential to our deliverance, and showing
us in him, the brightest example of the glory of Christianity,
450 tRtE COURAGE.
■has bid him enter iuto the joy of his Lord, at this juncture, in
order to warn us against :)ur incipient idohitry, and make us
say: "It is better to trust in the Lord, than to put coutideiice
in princes?" No man would more strongly deprecate this idol-
atry of human instruments, than Jackson, and never so strong-
ly, as when addressed to himself. None can declare more em-
phatically than would he, if he spoke to us from the skies, that
while man is mortal, the cause is immortal. Away then, with
unmanly discouragements, God lives, though our hero is dead.
That he should have toiled so hard for the independence of
his country, and so ardently desired it; and tlien at last, be for-
bidden to hail the day of our final deliverance, or to receive the
grateful honors which his fellow-citizens were preparing for
liim; this has saddened every heart with a pang both tender
and pungent. The medicine to this pain, my 'brethren, is to re-
member, that he has entered into a triumph and i)eace, so much
more glorious than that which he bled to achieve for his coun-
try. It would have been sweet to us, to hail him returning from
his last victory to a delivered and enfranchised country; sweet
to see and sympathize with the joy with which he hung up his
sword, and psiid the sacrifices of thanksgiving in the courts of
the Lord's house; sweet to witness, with reverent respect, the
domestic bliss of the home for which he so much sighed, solac-
ing him for his long fatigues. That happiness we have lost;
bu t/i£ has lost nothing. He has laid down his sword at the
footstool of his Father God; he now sings his thanksgiving song
in a nobler sanctuary than the earthly one he loved so much;
he "bathes his weary soul in seas of heavenly rest."
We who loved him, while we bewail our own loss, should
not forget the circumstances which alleviate the grief of his
death. Surely, it was no ill-chosen time for God to call him io
his rest, when his powers were in their undimmed prime, and
his military glory at its zenith; when his greatest victory had
just been won; and the last sounds of earth which reached him
were the thanksgivings and blessings of a nation in raptures for
his achievements; in tears for his sufferings. I love to remem-
ber, too, that his martyr-life had just been gladdened by the
gratification of tliose affections which were in him so sweet and
strong, and wliich yet, he sacrificed, so patiently, for his coun-
try.
TRUE COURAGE. 461
Still more do we tliauk God that it was practicable, as it
might not have been at an earlier, or a later period, for him
to enjoy those ministrations of love, in his last days, which
were the dearest solace of his sufferings. Into the sacredness
of those last communings, and of the grief which survives them
in his widowed home, we may not allow even our thoughts to
intrude. And yet, may not a mourning nation venture to utter
their blessing on the mourning heart which blessed him w^th
its love; and to pray, that the breast which so magnanimously
calmed its tumult, to make a quiet pillow for the dying head
of their hero, may be visited 'by Grod, with the most healing
balm of heavenly consolation? Will not all the people say:
amen?
Xor will they forget the tender tiower, sole off-shoot of the
parent stock, born to bloom amidst the wintry storms of war,
which he would fain have forbidden the summer breeze to visit
too roughly. The giant tree which would have shielded it with
pride so loving, lies prone 'before the blast. But His God will
be its God; and as long as the most rugged breast of his hardy
comrades is warm, it will not lack for a parent's tenderness.
And now, with one more lesson, I leave you to the teach-
ings of the mighty dead. If there was one trait which was
eminent in him above the rest, it was determination. This was
the power, before whose steady and ardent heat obstacles melt-
ed away. This was the force, which caused his battalions to
breast the onset of the enemy like ramparts of stone, or else
launched them irresistibly upon their shivered lines. It was his
unconquerable will, and purpose never to submit or yield. Ev-
ery one who was near him imbibed something of this spirit,
for they saw that in him the acceptance of defeat was an im-
possibility. To that conclusion no earthly power could bend
his iron will. Let this example commend to us the same stead-
fast temper. In his fall and that of the noble army of martyrs,
every generous soul sliould read a new argument for defending
the cause for wliicli lie died, with invincible tenacity. Surely
their very blood might cry out against us from the ground, if
we permitted the soil, whicli drank the precious libation to be
polluted with the despot's foot! Shall it ever be, that our dis-
couragement or cowardice shall make the sacrifice vain? If we
cx>iisent to this, then was it not treacherous in us to invite it?
452 TRUE COURAGE.
We should rather liave warned them to restrain their generos-
ity, to save the lives they were so ready to lay upau their coun-
try's altar, as too precious to be wasted for a land occupied by
predestined slaves and cowards, and to carry their patriotism
and their gifts to some more propitious clime, and some wor-
thier companionship.
Such are the thoughts which should inspire the heart of
every one who stands beside tlie grave of Jackson. Around that
green and swelling hill stands the circle of solemn mountain
peaks keeping everlasting watch over the home which he loved
and the tomb where his ashes sleep, majestic when the summer
sunset bathes them in azure and gold, but only more grandly
steadfast, when they are black with storms and winter. So. let
us resolve, we will guard the honor and the rights for which he
died, in the hour of triumph, and more immoveably in the hour
of disaster.
MEMORIAL OF LIEUTENANT COLONEL |OHN
T. THORNTON, OF THE THIRD \TRGL\LA
CAVALRY, C. S. A.
Amidst tlie great company of Christian heroes whom Vir-
••inia has saeriticed for the independence of the Confederate
States, few names, next to her Jackson's, shine more brightly
than that of Lieut. Col. John T. Thornton, of Prince Edward,
Vi\. The son of Mr. Wm. Thornton, of Cumberland county, he
inherited from his father an honorable name, a vigorous under-
standing, and an ample estate. After the most careful literary
training, he adojjted the profession of law, and chose the town
of FarmA'ille for his residence. Fram the very beginning, his
high honor and qualifications secured him the respect of his
fellow-cirizens; and he stepped into a busy practice, in which
he was fast winning the highest grade of distinction. Here the
present war found him, although still a young man, diligently
engaged in his profession, the pride, the trusted counsellor, and
chosen servant, of his county, and surrounded with all the do-
mestic bliss which an elegant home, and an engaging family
cimld confer. Tliis happiness he was peculiarly fitted to enjoy.
l>ut although a liberal supporter, and habitual attendant, of
the offices of religion, he was not yet a Christian: this crown
was lacking to his character.
Mr. Thornton was in temper a conservative; and accord-
ingly, in politics he was no extremist. Of the convention which
dissolved the connection of Virginia with the Federal Union,
he was chosen a member. There, and in tlie primary meetings
of the peoi)le, his cliaste and masculine eloquence was frequent-
ly heard, advocating, on the one hand, all the conciliation and
forbearance towards our assailants consistent with honor and
righteousness, and on the other, the most detei'uiined assertion
of our essential rights. After witnessing the scornful rejection
453
454 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON.
of all the overtures our uiagnanimous Commonwealth made
for the sake of peace, he heartily concurred in the act which
made her independent of the betraver.s of the Constitution; and
when the convention adjourned, he immediately returned home,
and accepted the command of a company of horse, composed of
his friends and neijihhors. This troop was embodied in the 3rd
Virginia Cavalry. Although at first a novice in militaiy af-
fairs, he rapidly became a w^ell-instructed and efficient officer,
while his courage, fortitude, and impartiality, made him the
idol of his men. As the first year of the war appraached its
end, all the volunteer regiments were reorganized; when he
was chosen Lieutenant Colonel. Concerning this i)romotion
he thus writes to his wife:
"In the reorganization of tliis regiment, I was chosen Lieu-
tenant Colonel. This promotion was unexpected; but I shall
accept it, and endeavor with all my powers to discharge its
duties. I pray God to give me the requisite skill and courage
for this i)Osition, that T may so bear myself in it. as to do good
service to my country."
This place he filled with eminent success, and like a g03d
soldier, ''bore the heat and burden of the day." His former as-
sociates remarked with wonder, that he seemed formed by na^
ture for a soldier; that although reared in elegance, and devoted
hitherto almost exclusively to literary ])ursuits, he seemed to
sleep anywhere, eat anything, and to endure any hardship, with-
out inconvenience. He a])])eared thus, only because his manly
spirit refused to complain of his trials; while in truth, both
body and mind were suffering acutely under them. Througli-
out the bloody campaign of 1802. he was always at his post. In
the expedition into Maryland, he was in command of the 3rd
Regiment, then a part of General Fitzhugli Lee's Cavalry Bri-
gade. In the comibat of Boonsboro'. when this brigade covered
the retreat of the Confederate Army against the whole host of
McClellan, the light of that clear autumn sun was turned into
darkness by the smoke and battle dust. Down that famed
causeway, as terrible as the jaws of hell, swept by cannon shot
and shells, and by clouds of sharpshooters on the frant, and
right, and left, Colonel Thornton led his regiment again and
again, in impetuous charges; until the purpose of the comman-
der-in-chief was secured, in bringing off his artillery and trains.
A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T THORNTON. 455
In this fiery ordeal, tliougli his horse was killed under him, he
escaped unscathed. But on the bloodj- morning of Sharps^burg,
as he was bringing his regiment into position to protect the left
of the army, his punctilious obedience to orders led him to ex-
l)Ose himself during a few minutes' halt, to a battery of the
enemy; and almost the first shot which opened the fearful
drama of the day, gave him a fatal wound. It exploded beside
him, and one fragment tore his saddle to pieces, inflicting an
irreparable shock on his body, while another crushed his arm
almost from the hand to the shoulder. His frightened horse
was arrested b}' his men, he sunk fainting into their arms, and
was carried to a little farm house near the field. There, the
surgeons endeavored ta save his life by amputating his man-
gled limb; but in vain. After lingering for twelve hours insen-
sible or delirious, he fell asleep.
His friends were aware that since he entered the service,
his religious character had undergone a revolution. God,
"whose thoughts are not as our thoughts," had employed the
solemnities of this dreadful war, together with the death of two
beloved brothers, to mature the convictions, which the sanc-
tuary, and the pure Christian example that blessed his home,
had implanted, but could not perfect. Numerous passages from
his letters illustrate the birtli and growth of his remarkable
religious character.
Among the sad remains which were brought along with his
corpse, to his widow, were a few of his prayers, written a'midst
the confusion of the bivouac, on bits of paper, and folded into
his pocket-Bible. These precious relics of his piety I am per-
mitted to copy; and the i)urpose of this introductory narrative
is to present them to his jiersnnal friends, to his comrades in
arms, and to the soldiers of our ]>atriotic and suffering army,
as his own solemn testimony to the religion of the Lord Jesus
Christ. In them, "he being dead, yet speaketh." The object
is to permit him to speak chiefly for himself: no attempt is made
to do more than place the necessary links of connection be-
tween the pieces which unfold his religious emotions. This
brief partraiture cannot be made without a ])artial disclosure
of those dearer affections, which Colonel Thornton's sensitive
honor was wont to cover jealousl\' in the sanctity, of his owti
heart and home. But no brave man will be capable of reading
4.")6 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOnX T. TnORXTON".
it with auy other than eniotious of reverent sympathy. Xor
will any such fail to recognize, in the spirit which has yielded
these sacred mementoes to the inspection of his brothers-in-
arms, the same self-consecration, and preference of duty over
feelin.u. w liirli iii;i:l(' liini the Thristiau hero. It has only been
done because of the belief, that, could the soul of the departed
speak from that blest abode, where it is now. as we humbly
trust, solaced for its pains, it would proujunce the commending
of Christ to its fellows a dearer object than any earthly tie.
In the opinion of all who have been permitted to read them,
these prayers are peculiarly excellent. They show a maturity
of Christian feelings, a propriety in the selection jf tojjics and
hmguage, a tenderness, fervency, and humility, remarkable in
one who was so young in the faith. It is hoped that they will
furnish to many a young disciple a pattern for his breathings
after the Saviour, and to many a Christian husband and father
in the army, a vehicle for transmitting to heaven his yearnings
for "loved 9nes at home."
The reader's attention is especially called to the powerful
awakening of the sense of parental responsibility in Colonel
Thornton's bosom, as soon as he became a Christian. His most
cherished desire f jr life. was. that he might return and aid his
beloved wife in guiding the steps of his sons heavenward. It
is noteworthy also, how frequently his servants are included in
these Christian aftections. He rarely forgets to send them his
kindly salutations. He feels his obligations, as their master, to
their souls, and prays for their temporal and eternal welfare.
C3lonel Thornton, a large slaveholder, the son of a large plan-
ter, reared near his father's servants, was the fairest type of
that character, as developed under Southern institutions. The
affectionate relations existing between liiiii aiul his servants,
and the bending of such a mind and heart to their good, are
the clearest proofs of the wickedness of those who are shed-
ding so niui li li]()3d to destroy these ties. Another purpose of
this little tract is. to show the world, in this specimen amoug a
thousand of our Christian patriots, how high and holy are the
principles which nerve their arms in tliis war. There is here,
no lust of power, notoriety, or wealth; n j unsanctified revenge:
but the resolve of the virtuous soul, sadly, yet firmly accepting
the mournful alternative of resistance, rather than recreancy
A MEMORIAL OF LTEUT. COL JOHN T. THORNTON. 457
to flniy. The oneiiiit's of our eouiitiy, liowevoi* they niiiy con-
teiiiii mi- luatei-ial stivnjitti, may well treuible at the s'uilt of
the wlioU'sale inurders they perpetrate to crush this riji'hteous
sjnrit of defeuse. It is the spirit of God's Word; it is sustained
aud prompted, in its noiblest instances, by his Holy Ghost. Do
they not see that, although God may chastise our ingratitude
and irreligion towards him, by using their wicked hands as the
instruments of correction, they are fighting against him, And
their murders will yet be avenged in calamities so dire, that
both rhe ears of them that hear shall tingle?
But it is time to proceed directly to the narrative of Tolonel
Thornton's religious life. His brief expressions of feeling must
be weighed by the reader with this fact: that his character was
always marked iby a strong abhorrence of meaningless profes-
sians. He seems to have been, at the beginning of the war. not
a stranger to praj'er; but the death of two brothers in rapid sue
cession, one of whom, a citizen of Texas, coming to ^^irginia
with the soldiers of that State, only reached Riclvmond to die,
profoundly deepened his religiaus emotions. October 18tli,
18G1, he writes from 'Camp Bethel, on the Peninsula:
"T feel sometimes very sad and .solitary in this long ab
sence from you. The death of S**** stunned by its suddenness
and unexpecredness. I am left alone of all my brothers in tliis
Confederacy. * * * j would draw closer to your side than
ever bef3re.
''It is hard to bear my griefs alone; but I pray that I may
see clearly in these bereavements, the hand of a wise and mer-
ciful God. I try to believe that 'He doth not afflict willingly,
nor grieve the children of men'; that 'though he cause grief, yet
will He have compassion according to the muUitudeof His ten-
der mercies.' But my skei)ticism is sometimes ])ainful. and it
looks as th'jugh heaven were covered with a cloud through
which my i)rayers could not pass."
The next extract which we make, may illustrate the ha-
bitual temper of his mind as to the issue of the war before him:
'^S/x O'clock P. M.
"Camp in Lee's Field, April DM, 1862.
"We have now a large army in this Peninsula. Our men
are in fine spirits, and I look with confidence to the God of bat-
tles, i'd give us the victory. I pray he may be my shield in the
4r)tS A MEMOKIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN" T. THOKNTON.
liaiir of conflict. I liaA'e much to make life sweet to me. * * *
Let us implore liiirublv and earnestly the Father of mercies, who
lia.s showered so many blessings on us, that he will guide us
through the i»erils of the dark hours of war, to the sunny,
bright days of peace."
June 1st, 1862. he writes, making a definite avowal of his
hope in Christ, and purpose to live a new life. After a tribute
to the Christian fidelity of her to whom the letter is addressed,
tender and glowing, he thus proceeds:
"This service in the army has not been without its bene-
fits, and as I trust, great, lasting, and eternal benefits, to me.
The busy, bustling life, that I had led ever since I left college,
until I left home for the war, gave me but little time for calm,
serious, sober thought on my past history and future life. In
tile ((uicr of the outpost, in the stillness of the camp at night, in
the weary, solitary journeys to visit the chain of sentinels. I find
ample time for refiection. With no books to read, with no busi-
ness cares to engross or distract my attention, my mind has
turned back upon myself, and often has the path I have trod
been traveled over again by me. Thoughts of you * * *'
restrained me from those vulgar vices of the camp, drinking
and card-playing. Thoughts of you * * *, kept back my
tongue from profanity, and then thoughts of the words you
had spoken and written ta me * » *, and thoughts of the
goodness of God, and of my sins, and of my need as a sinner,
led me to seek salvation through the mercy of God, and the
atonement of Jesus. I trust * * *, that I truly believe,
and shall prove faithful to the end, and be an inheritor of the
promises
"If I am spared to return home, I trust that you and I
* * * will live through long years, to serve our Heavenly
Father who has been so kind to us, if such be his holy will. But
and honor and praise thee. Bless the children thou hast given
to us. Aid us to train them up in thy knowledge and in thy
fear, and to make them thy servants, pure, holy, and obedient.
"For my servants. Oh Lord God! I pray. Teach me how to
act as their master, and instruct them how to discharge their
duties as servants. Fill their hearts with love for thee; teach
them to shun all evil, to live purely and uprightly, and finally
save them with an eternal salvation.
A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL JOHN T. THORNTON. 450
"Info fhy hands of love and morcy T trnstinoly commit my-
self. Oil Lt)i'd (rod Alimip;lity. If it be in accordance with thy
wise and ^vvat purposes, I beseech thee, bear me safely through
all the perils of this war. Carry me back to my wife and home
and children; and make me faithful to thee, walking- in thy
statutes, observing thy coniimandments, and honoring thee in
all pnreness and holiness of living. But if. Oh Lord! according
to thy righteous decree, I am to fall by the hands of the enemy,
or to die from any cause, then I implore thee. Heavenly Father,
receive my soul, and take me to heaven to dwell forever in the
light of thy holiness.
''If I have asked. Oh Lord, any tiling wrong, I pray thee,
forgive the evil thought, and blot out the wicked petition. If
my prayers are pure and right. I 'beseech thee in the name of
Jesus, and by reason of his death and sufferings, and because of
his merits, to answer them. Add, I pray thee. Heavenly Father,
every blessing on me and my household we are worthy t^ re-
ceive; and to thee let all honor and glory be ascribed. Amen."
The following letter displays his Christian trust as to the
issues of tlu^ great struggle in which his country was engaged:
"Camp near Richmond, /ung 20M, 1R62.
"It is now within four days of a year, since I left you and
home to enter the army. It has been a year crowded with inci-
dents of most momentous importance to our State and Confed-
eracy; of events that will be read with interest for generations
to come, by the student of history and the statesman. It will
tell of a government erected by wise patriots, overthrown by
mad ambition, sectional hate, and unreasoning fanaticism. It
will tell of a powerful people summoned to arms to resist in-
vasion and subjugation. The nations of the earth have looked
with complacency upon the spectacle of a fierce and strong de-
mocracy, in a spirit of direst hate and meanest vengeance,
striving in every way to crush and subjugate a feeble people
who only ask to be let alone. This people, few in numbers
compared with llieir adversaries, with an inadequate su])])ly of
arms and munitions of war. shut up from intercourse with any
portion of the world, have kept them at bay for one year, and
at the end of that time have forced them to call for a large in-
crease of their military force. It is true, we during this time
have sustained grievous reverses. In the future, we have sad
460 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN" T. THOKNTON.
and severe trials before us. liut (Jud iu his luercj' has borue
lis up. and sustaiiied us tlius far. in our struggle for independ-
ence, and I have an aA»iding faith that he will crown us iu the
end with victory. I acknowledge with gratitude his mercy to
nie in this year of affliction. While so many have fallen around
uu\ from disease and the enemy, he has graciously given me
health and strength. He has mercifully protected you and our
dear children, and our servants, during these twelve months of
tribulations. Let us praise his holy name, and give thanks with
grateful souls, for his loving kindness and mercy. He is a
'Crod of comfort' to us, as St. Paul calls him. T do sincerely
pray that all thi.s tendci' care of me may excite lively emotions
of piety in my soul, and may constrain me to unite in your
jii-ayer that God will strengthen me and enable me to persevere
in ih(^ new life I am striving t3 lead."
June i'5th, he writes:
"It is useless to speculate as to the period when the war
will end. I lu^ir oi)inion>; of various shades ex})ressed. It is
si ill more idle to indulge in thoughts of what is to become of
you and me in the progress of the conflict. Our lives and fjr-
tunes are in the hands of an all-wise and merciful God. and we
must give our souls repose in the faith that he will do all things
for us better than we could for ourselves. This is the truest,
best, and firmest consolation we can have in these days of trou-
ble. When I can A'isit home, it is impossible for me to say.
How much I would like to drop in on you this morning, and see
you with our children all around you. Let us trust such joy is
laid ujt in store for us, and without })erplexing our hearts, look
forward to the future with confidence and courage. I doubt not,
your faith is firmer than mine; but by mutual encouragement,
we can strengthen the hearts of each other, to bear misfortune,
if it is sent upon us, or to receive with joy and gratitude what-
ever blessings may be vouchsafed."
July 4th, 1862, he thus announces the results of the cam-
paign before Kichmond:
"The papers will give you an account of the triumphs
vouchsafed to our arms by God, in the late battles around Rich-
mond. He has mercifully protected me, but our htss in killed
and wounded is fearfully large. Our whole land will be clothed
iu mourning. I pray God to console the bereaved hearts, and
A MEMORIAL OF IJEtJT. COL. JOHN T THORNTON 401
to tiii'u the charities of all our people upon those whose earthly
protectors have 'been taken from them."
The reader will now be able to nnderstand the allusion of
the following
PRAYER.
July \th, 1862.
My Father in Heaven, I come before thee this morning; wirh
a song of praise and thanksgiving for the victory thou hast
given us over our enemies. Oh Lord, thou hast heard the pray-
ers of thy people; their supplications and petitions have ascend-
ed to thy throne, and in the abundance of thy mercies thou
hast heard them and answered them, by granting to our arms a
triumph over our invaders. I feel and confess it is all from
thee. Lord God Almighty; and to thy holy and glorious name do
I ascribe all the praise. Continue, I praj' thee, thy mercy and
kindness to us as a nation. Give wisdom from on high to our
rulers and generals, and all others in authority. Strengthen
the hearts of our soldiers, ishield their heads, and with thy
strong arm bear up our banner in the conflict that is before us.
Confuse and confound the counsels of our adversaries, drive
them from our territory, and compel them by thy providence,
to grant us a just and honorable peace. I pray thee, Oh Lord,
to send thy Holy Spirit into the hearts of our soldiers, and
make them soldiers of the Cross. Convert them to thy service,
and make the people of the Confederate States a pious people,
whose God is the Lord. I pray thee Oh Lord, to be with the
sick and wounded of our army, in the hospitals and in the
camps; alleviate their sufferings, soothe their pains, turn tiieir
hearts to thee, and bless them whether they live or die. I pray,
Oh God, for a blessing on the regiment in which I serve. Make
all connected with it godly men and brave soldiers. Grant
them grace to serve thee, and give them courage for the dis-
charge of every duty.
''I pray thee. Oh Lord, to forgive my sins, to wash away
my iniquities, to renew my heart. Pour upon me thy grace, so
that I may always do thy will. I pray, most merciful Father,
that thou wilt make me pure, give me strength to put aw^ay all
evil thoughts and impure desires, to resist all temptations and
wicked suggestions. INLake me to love thee supremely, and to
prefer above all things else to do thy will, and to enjoy more
46:^ A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON.
than any other employment, thy holy service. Enable me, Oh
Father, to live near to thy Divine Son, m}- Kedeemer, the Lord
Jesus Christ, the Saviour of men. Be thou. Oh Sdu of God.
if, in his wisdom and justice and mercj', he deteraiines other-
wise, and either of us be sliorth' taken from the other, then
may the otlier ibear the chastisement with meekness, and l3ok
forward to a reunion in God's own good time, on rhat blessed
shore, where adieus and farewells are sounds unknown. * *
* Kiss all the boys for me. Give my love to Mrs. ; I hope
she has recovered. Remember me kindly to the servants. Fare-
well, * "■ *. May God keep you and our dear children."
June 4th, 1862, he writes thus:
'Tell the dear boys I think often of them, and trust they
will be obedient to you, and industrious in their studies. I have
high hopes and expectations of our boys, and it would be a
mercy of G3d for which we should pray, that you and I may
be spared to see them reared to manhood, and to use our exer-
tions to lead them to the paths of piety and honor."
The same hopes are pursued in his next:
"Camp near Richmond, June Vlih, 1862.
"It is one of my earnest petitions to God. that if it be in
accordance with his wise decrees, he may spare you and me, lo
train our dear boys under his guidance. I feel how weak and
feeble I am in the Christian life. I trust, with fear and trem-
bling, that my faith is sincere, and my hopes are well grounded.
Certainly I could not object to your telling our friend L , or
any other friend you might desire to talk with on the subject,
of my hope that my sins are pardoned, and that I am a true be-
liever. But. I do not wish you to be deceived as to the state of
my heart, and I know you would not deceive any one else. I
have sinned much and long. I try, with a sincere penitence, I
trust, t'd ask forgiveness of those sins from our Heavenly Fath-
er, by reason of the atonement made iby our loving Saviour,
whose righteousness I implore may be imputed to me. I feel
the risings of sin in my heart every day. I endeavor to diive
impure thoughts from my heart, to banish wicked words from
wxy tongue, and to keep my hands from unclean deeds, but de-
spite my striving, my prayers, my penitence, I sin. Conscious
of my guilt, pra3'ing for forgiveness, I am a poor, weak Chris-
tian. You must not then expect to see high Christian graces in
A MEMORIAL oF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T THORNTON. 463
me. I hope, I trust, I pray for increase of faith. I try to be-
lieve and implore God to help my unbelief. I notice all you
say in reference to conversation with old and tried Christians.
I should be rejoiced to have such friends to commune with, but
I never could unveil my heart to any one except you; and even
now, I do not know how I could speak to any one of my desire
to be a Christian, of my communings with our Heavenly Father,
of my faith in our adorable Saviour, of my prayers for the in-
fluence of the Holy Ghost. You must be my guide * * »
in the Christian walk * * * and to you I must look for
advice and counsel. I pray that the war may end, and you.
may take my hand in yours, and that we may pass along life's
journey, aiding and encouraging each other in ali o':r '"luislian
duties."
About this time was written the first of these prayers which
has been preserved; its date is June 10th. The bloody, but in-
decisive battle of Seven Pines had then been fought. The vast
hosts of Federals were pressing close up to the beleaguered city.
The ami}' of Jackson was seemingly involved past hope in those
complications of danger, from which it was soon to emerge in a
blaze of glory. Every where, the condition of the Confederacy
seemed to anxious patriots perilous, in the extreme., It was at
this juncture Colonel Thornton penned these devout and solemn
petitions:
A PRAYER.
^'I beseech and implore thee, merciful Father, to look down
with tender compassion on thy unworthy servant, to forgive his
sins, to strengthen his faith, to fill his heart with thy grace, to
shed upon his soul the influences of thy Holy Spirit; to give
him bodily strength and courage for the discharge of all his
duties, to illumine his mind with thy divine intelligence, to
guide his feet in the path of holiness, to deliver him from every
temptation that may assail him, to shield him from every as-
sault of man or devil, to maintain him in health of body and
purity of spirit, and finally to receive him in heaven, tliy holy
dwelling place; there to live forever in the joy and delight of
thy presence.
'^I pray thee, Oh God! to blot out my sins. I f(^el how vile
and impure I am and have been. I feel that I can lind refuge
alone in the abundance of thy tender mercies: that nothing but
404 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. CoL. JOHN T. THORNTON.
:he blood of Jesus, our adorable Saviour cau cleause my vile
heart of its pollution. Tnder the shadow of thy mercy I seek
to hide: in the flood that flows from Calvary, I wash my soul.
•Treserve me, Oh Lord! from presumption, from a vain and
foolish reliance on my own strength, from a silly confidence in
the power and efficacy of my own good works; cause me at all
times to know my folly and weakness; keep me continually
luindful that salvation is all of free, unmerited grace; and never
allow me for an instant to forget that the works of man, even
the best he can perform, are marked by folly, and stained with
guilt."
"In thy hands, Oh meiciful Father, are the fortunes of my
beloved State and Country. I recognize thy chastening hand in
the afflictions thou hast sent upon our laud and upon our peo-
ple. Teach us all to submit with Christian humility to these
sad tribulations, to bear with Christian resignation these severe
trials, to bow ibeneath the rod, and with reverence to honor the
hand that smites. In thine own appointed time. Oh God! thou
wilt deliver us from the hands of our enemies and of those who
hate us. Thou, Oh Lord! wilt, in thy good time, lead us by a
l)ath that thou wilt open to our feet, to safety and independence.
lie thou. Oh Lard! our stay and our deliverance. In the day of
i)attlebe with us; uphold our hands, strengthen our hearts, and
give us victory over our foes. Oh Lord! smite with thy right-
eous indignation the cruel invaders who now drive us from our
homes and besiege our capital. Send thy angel, armed with
the sword of justice, to execute vengeance upon our cruel foes.
Make our army a holy instrument in thy hands, to punish the
insolent tyrants who are now endeavoring to subjugate our
people, to free our slaves, to confiscate our lands, and to take
from us all that in thy goodness, thou hast given us. Drive
the enemy, Oh Lord! from our soil. Give us, merciful Father,
the blessings of peace. Shed the influences of thy Holy Spirit
upon the hearts of our rulers and people, upon the hearts of
the officers and privates of our army, and make us a God-fearing
nation, whose ruler is the great Jehovah. I implore thee. Oh
God! for thy blessing and especial favor on the regiment in
wliich I am ser\ing. Make them pure and holy. Make them a
l)and of Christian warriors, who shall fight in thy strength.
Cover their heads in the hour of conflict; crown them with vie-
A MEMOHIAL OF LIETJT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. 465
torv over our Xorthern foes, and over the wiles and machina-
tions of the Evil One.
''I beseech thee, Heavenly Father, to guard and guide, and
console, and sustain, thv handmaiden and servant, the wife
whom thou hast given me. Bless her. Oh Lord I at all times.
Write thy law upon her heart. Shield her from all evil, and
if it be thy holy will, unite her and myself once more, and per-
mit us together, as heads of a Christian family, in peace to serve
my elder Brother; thou hast atoned for my sins; hear my pray-
ers for forgiveness and acceptance to our Father, and bring me
bark rich spiritual gifts. I pray thee. Oh God, to grant me
health of body and steadiness of purpose, and cool, deliberate
courage, and iurelligence, to discharge all the duties of my po-
sition. Be with me in every trial: if thou wilt, shield me from
every danger; if it be thy will that I fall in battle, receive my
spirit, and take me to thy heavenly mansion, to dwell there
forever in peace and rest, and joy and bliss, praising and serving
thee.
"Oh merciful Father, I implore thy blessing upon my be-
loved wife. Comfort, console, and sustain her, I pray thee;
fill her heart with thy grace; give her strength sufficient for all
the severe labors she has to perform; grant her wisdom from
on high to discharge every duty. Reunite her and myself, and
let us througli long years of peace, worship thee, and train our
children and servants in thy service. I pray thee. Heavenly
Father, to bless my children; and till their tender hearts with
love for thee; make them thy children; make them thine by
election and adoption. Give their parents wisdom and grace,
to train them for a heavenly inheritance. Bless my servants, I
implore thee, most merciful God. Enable me to instruct them
jjroperly, and to govern them wisely. Make them thy servants,
zealous in every good work; and finally receive them to thyself
in heaven.
"I ask all these blessings in the name of my Saviour Jesus.
I oifer these petitions in the name of thy Holy Son. Hear me,
and answer me. Oh God. Pour upon me every blessing thou
in thy mercy and loving kindness, wilt grant. Amen.''
466 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON.
ANOTHER PRAYER.
July 21^/, 1862.
"I approach thy throue, my Heavenly Father, this day, to
acknowledge the benefits with which, in thy loving kindness and
mercy, thou hast crowned me all the days of my life: to confess
my sins, to implore forgiveness, to ask for thy grace and the
influences of th^' Holy Sjjirit; and to beseech thee to continue to
regard me with favor, to load me with blessings, and to grant
me courage of heart and strength of body to discharge rightly
and properly all the duties of my position. Oh (xod. wash my
clean in the blood of thy Son, Christ Jesus, my Saviour. Let
me go to the cross, and live near to him who died that I may
live. Raise me from the grave to sit beside him who first rose
from the grave that he might show to men the way to heaven.
In his name I ofifer my petitions; through his intercession I ask
forgiveness; by reason of his sufferings and atonement, I ex-
pect salvation. I know that I am guilty, polluted, undone, and
ruined; but I thank thee, Oh merciful Father, that on Calvary
thou didst open a fountain, in whose stream the vilest and filth-
iest sinner may wash his guilt away. To that fountain filled
with blood I would come, and cleanse my heart from every
stain. Pity, forgive, and save me. Lord God Almiglity. I pray
thee, merciful Father, to shield me from all the perils that as-
sail my life; from the pestilence that is abroad in the land, and
from the cruel enemy that has invaded, and is now ravaging
and destroying my State and Country. Be with me. Oh Lord
God, at all times; shield me in the hour of couflicr, and make
my hand strong to strike for truth, and justice, and right. Save
me, merciful Father, and restore me, when the war is over, and
thou hast sent peace on our land, to my home, my wife, my chil-
dren, and my servants.
"Bless, guide, comfort, and console the wife thou hast giv-
en me, and the children that have been born of our marriage.
Reign and rule in their hearts. Make the mother skilful and
apt to teach her children thy law, and turn the hearts of the
children to do thy will. Reunite us, merciful Father, and up-
hold thy handmaiden and myself as the heads of a Christian
family, and our offspring and servants as its members, teach-
ing us all to love thy word and thy law, to live as becometh
them who are stri^ing for a heavenly inlieiitance, and finally
A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. 467
receive us all into heaven, thy holy dwelling place, to i)iaise
and honor and serve thee through all eternity.
"Oh Lord God! have mercy on my country, these (Vinfcd-
erate states, naw struggling for salvation from tyranny and op-
pression, and seeking the rights thou hast given us as a nation,
through an agony of blood and suffering. I see, Oh God, the
desolations that mark the footsteps of our cruel enemy. Befoi-e
me are the naked fields, the ruins of the 'burned dwelling, and
far away from the fierce foe are the houseless and homeless
wanderers. These cruel tyrants boast of their large numbers,
their great wealth, and their power, vastly superior to that of
these poor KStates. They rely on the arm of fiesh. Wc trust in
thee, Oh Lord God Jehovah! Be thou our fortress and our de-
fense; God of battles, be with the soldiers of this ('onfederacy,
and give them victory; God of truth and justice, reign in the
hearts of the people all over the land; God of wisdom, illumine
the minds of our rulers and officers; God of mercy, give us
peace; God of nations, give us independence; and to thy name
be all honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen.''
July 22nd, 1802, he wrote from the region of the I'amun-
key, a letter well describing the principles which made him
resolute in enduring, without any ambitious aspirations, a sep-
aration so irksome to his soul.
"I aim amused at the delight you so heartily manifest, at
my not meeting the enemy, who were reported as crossing into
King \Mlliam. You say you cannot wish me any opportunity
of distinction wliere my life will be placed in jeopardy. In re-
ply I would say, tliat I only desire to do my duty. I have no
thirst for military fame; for I know it is won through blood
and tears and suffering. But I do desire to aid in driving the
base invader from Mrginia's soil. I am amazed that men can
sit quietly at home, when they see the fate that awaits us if
the enemy succeeds in subjugating us. I am sitting now, as I
write, in full view of what was, before the invasion, one of the
loveliest estates in Virginia. It is now a scene of desolation;
the fields are naked, the fences destroyed, the houses burned,
the laborers stoh^i away, and the owners fugitives, and, if this
were all their wealth, beggars."
His remaining letters, written on the march from lower
Virginia to Manassas and Maryland, were little more than
468 A MEMOEIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON.
brief notes, penned in mniueuts snatched from the fatigues of
the journej. But in all of them, his 3'earnings for the SDciety
of his beloved home were mingled with prayers for faith and
strength to bear his lot with fortitude. The last specimen of
prayer which he left is incomplete. Perhaps the bugle-call
summoned him away from the solemn and pleasing communion
of the mercy seat, to the march or the combat.
THE LAST PRAYER.
July 21th, 1862.
''I come before thee. Oh Lord God Ahuighty, on this thy
holy day, to thank thee for the many mercies I have received
from thy loving hand, and for the protection thou liast here-
tofore afforded me; to ask that thou wilt not withdraw thA"
mercy, favor, and protection from me, but wilt continue to
crown me with blessings, and shield me from all assaults of
the world, the flesh, and the Devil. I come to implore the for-
giveness of my sins, pardon for all my guilt, and eternal salva-
tion for my soul, through the merits and intercession of thine
adorable Son Christ Jesus. I come to praise thee for the loving
kindness and tender compassion which, at such a cost, and at
such a sacrifice, furnished a way of escape for guilty man. Oh
Lord! I would live near to thy Son Christ Jesus, our Lord and
Saviour. I pray thee to give me grace, to illumine my under-
standing, to fill my heart with love, to make thy service my de-
lightful work, and obedience to thy law my most pleasant duty.
Save me, I beseech thee, from vain-glorying, from boasting,
from self-reliance, "
Thus the expression of his longings for holiness were brok-
en off unfinished, like his life. But his friends may trust that
his life, so full of promise here was but the infancy of a far more
blessed and glorious existence in that heaven to which he as-
pired; and so, that these acts of worship, interrupted here below
are now continued with a nobler, sweeter tongue, and with
higher raptures, where there are no wars nor rumors of wars
to disturb the saints, in the heavenly Sabbath.
These mementoes exhibit, so far as a brief Christian life
of less than a year could, the renewing power of the religion
of Jesus Christ, in a high degree. The scriptural tone of the
petitions shows, in one so young in divine knowledge, the evi-
dent teachings of the Holy Ghost. The change in Colonel
A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. 469
Tlioiiitou's cliaracter was marked. He was, by nature, a proud
spirit ; we here find his prayers breathing the most profound hu-
mility. His character was usuallj- apprehended to be stern;
these exercises of soul are instinct with a melting tenderness,
for all. except the enemies of righteousness. This attempt to
display his inner life is now closed, with the earnest prayer,
that God may incline the hearts of all his friends and com'-
rades, and of every brave soldier of our country, to seek his
Saviour, to imitate his example so far as he was a folljwer of
Jesus Christ, and to raise to the throne of grace, these, or such-
like prayers.
NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE.'
■'And the gates of hell shall not prevail again.st it.""
Thei-e are soni^^ thinj^s wliicli can 'be daiie, and tliei'e are
.some others whii-li obvionslv cannot. The curion-; thing about
this very trite fact is, that peojjle continue tryinii,- to do these
other thinjis, as thouj;h they were feasible. This they do both
in the mechanical and moral world. Thus: I here are s:)me peo-
])le always, who are inventin*;- perjx^tual motion, and just on
the point of etfecting it. ^lany and diverse, says the Scientific
American, arc^ the machines invented for this purpose; but it
I'ecom'mends to all future experimenters, as the cheapest and
simplest, and equally effective with the best, the plain tub.
The machine of the tub is operated thus. The vessel chosen is
a large one, with handles. It is placed on the floor; the opera-
tor then gets into it, and laying hold 'of the handles with his
hands, lifts the tub up to the ceiling. Succeeding in this, he
has i)erpetual motion in its simplest principle.
In every generation, the social, political, and religious tub-
lifters are numerous. "Mother Anna Lee," patron saint of the
Shakers, was gr)ing to abolish sin by abolishing matrimony.
The j)lan was simple, and perfectly effectual. Convert all the
a(bilt sinners, and agree that when converted they shall have
no more children. As all actual transgression comes out of
original sin, and all original sin is transmitted by birth, one
generation more would happily finish the work of Satan on
earth. The good mother only made one little mistake m the
project. Who were to carry out this excellent plan? The men
and women, of course. But men and women usually have a
nalural propensity, which is more fundamental and regulative
than the desire to arrest original sin. So it turns out that poor
human nature doesn't lift itself in Mother Lee's tub; but goes
on multiplying and increasing, and replenishing the earth with
1 From the JVew York Independent- 470
NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE 471
3'oung: siuuei's; leaving the world's redemption to the less sym-
metrical plan of the Grospel.
So Mr. John Stuart Mill proved to his own satisfaction
that all individual title to real estate is adverse to the public
weal; and the "International" communists, going a little far-
ther, declare, La propriete cest U crime] ''Establish commun-
itv of goods; and public spirit will make the best of everything,
and procure the greatest good to the greatest number." Here
again, man is to lift himself in his tub. It is forgotten that
nature has made the desire for the special welfare of one's self.
and of one's own family, far stronger than the desire for the
general good. Hence the only possible result of the theory is,
not that private property shall be happily substituted by com-
munism; but that happy civilized societies may be plunged into
anarchy; and what little private property is left be held with
a far fiercer grasj). and defended by personal violence instead
of by regulated and benignant law. Natural selfishness will
never lift itself into disinterestedness, least of all by force of an
infidel creed which makes selfish pleasure its summufn bonum.
Another instance of the tub-movement is seen in Mrs. Cady
Stanton's ''Women's Rights." Woman is to be freed from her
subordination to man I By whom, forsooth? X>ot by the sel-
fish, masculine despot, of course; for every impulse of his sel-
fishness prompts him to perpetuate the tyranny. It is to be
done, then, by woman. She is to make her.self independent of
man! But the Creator, who made men and women, has laid
down the law, "I'nto him shall be thy desire," as the founda-
tion of woman's nature. So tluit the amount of the claim for
women's rights is, again, tliat the inventor shall lift herself in
her tub. Were the realizing of the revolution the only danger,
men might safely give ^Irs. Cady Stant ju tlieir full leave to
succeed. She would then find that her real difficulty was un-
surmounted; thnt every one of her "oppressed" sisters, who was
a true woman, would Aoluntarily desert her and seek to be be-
loved, cherished, and jtrotected by one of the masculine "ty-
rants"; and this by the inevitable force of a nature a thou-
sandfold more imperative than her zeal for ^frs. Cady Stan-
ton's revolution. And hence again, tlie only possible result of
this movement will he, not the independence and equality of
woman, but the substitution of the savage dependence of the
472 NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE
slave-concubine, tlie ''weaker vessel" held and abused by brute
force, for tlie benignant order of scriptural marriage.
These attempts to do the impossible illustrate the most ab-
surd enterprise of all: the attempt of our modern materialistic
infidels to abolisli religion. Tlie Commune shouted, "Down
wirli pr()p(Mtv and leligi m. tlie two chief enemies of human
progress. ■■ The onlv result of .success in destroying religion
would be to re])lace it with sonn^ mischievous superstition.
This is sufficiently e\'inced. to any sober mind. Iiy a review of the
past. Every people, in every age, has had either its religion or
its superstition; either its (i9d 'or its Fetich. Now. a universal
result is an index of a permanent cause: there must be some-
thing in human nature which compels it to recognize the su-
pernatural. When our would-be jihilosophers assume that they
can exist without this necessity, it is only the very modest pre-
tension that tliey are themselves supernatural; that is. more
than men. Tliat religion is inevitable to man may be inferred
again from tlu^ unif:)rm result of every attempt which has been
made to exclinl(\ oi- even to omit it from human thought ;ind
life. They have always been predestined failures. Thus, those
who profess to understand the system of Tonfucius. nominally
so dominant in China, tell us that it is not really a religion, but
a siicial .system of morals; that it olfers the Chinese mind no
object of divine homage save an abstraction; and that it is in
fact only a system of moral rules enforcing the idea of civic
subordination; the only wor.ship inculcated, that of dead ances-
tors, being designed merely to strengthen the impulse of filial
respect. VMiat now, is the result? Tliere is id ]ieople who
make a more frequent recognition of the supernatural. To say
nothing of the vast system of Buddhism, the whole nation seems
enslaved to demon worship, and to the bondage of "the evil
eye," "the influence," and the genii of 1 )calities. Yet the
Chinese are at once the most astute and tlie most materialistic
of the Oriental races.
But we may come nearer home. The materialist Thomas
Hobbes, of Malmesbury, was said to be more afraid of ghosts
than any educated man in England. Atheistic French Democ-
racy professed to abrogate Gad, the Church, and the Sabbath;
but so strong was the religious necessity, that even these mad-
men enthroned the "Groddess of Reason." Auguste Comte spent
NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE. 473
his life in teaching- that his ''Positive Philosophy" neeessarilj
exchided every supernatural notion. But at its close he finisli-
ed by establishing a new religion, and a proposed hierarchy with
Conite as its hierophant, and the soul of his deceased mistress
as a sort of "Queen of Heaven."
These facts may be set in a light istill more mortifying to
the enemies of Christianity, and mure conclusive against their
hopes. The weakest rcdigions hav(^ always been strong enough
to outvie infidelity upon a fair trial. What has it then to hope,
in the presence of a true Christianity, with its purity and pow-
er? Even popery, tlie fruitful mother 'of infidels, has Saturn-
ian strength enough to devour tlu^se. lier own children. French
po{)ery begot Voltaire; and so sorry a rtdigion as French popery
was adefjuate to overthrow VoltaircMsm. We are told that the
effect of national misfortune and liumiliation has been to fill
the Romish Church again with Freni-hmen (and not women
only), and to i)reL'ii)itate the people into sham miracles, the pil-
grimages, and the other fooleries of the Middle Ages. The Au-
gustan age of classic paganism gave a similar result. Greek
and Roman philosophy deemed itself too wise to retain the old
traditionai-y creed of their fathers. They could laugh at tlie
auspices, and explode Pan and Ceres, Castor and Pollux, with
the herd of imaginary gods. But none the less must the Au-
gustan age have gods from some whither; so philosophic Athens
had its altar to "The Pnknown God," and im])erial Rome im-
l)orted Judaism, tln^ mystery of the P]gyptian Iris, and the mag-
ic of the P]ast. Now, gentlemen infidels, we may heartily concur
with you in your scurvy (\stimate of these ancient and modern
})aganisms, the religions of Jupiter and the Po])e. I'ut we re-
mind you, that scurvy as they were, they were sufficient to con-
quer you. ''If these things were done in the green tree, what
shall be done in the dry?" If mankind is compelled by the con-
stitution of the soul, in ages when it seemed to have no better
choice than Jbetween these wretched creeds and you, to prefer
either of these to you; what are your prospects against the uni-
versal diffusion of the Christian religion, with its ennobling and
satisfying truths?
The rational account of these results is in the law with
which we set out. Nature cannot revolutionize nature. The
human soul has certain original, constitutive, universal laws
474 NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE.
of tliiukiug aud feeliug, the presence of whicli qualify it as a
rational liinnau soul. Hence, whatever any soul thinks or feels
is a result of these regulative laws. It is, then, infallibly cer-
tain that these cannot be abrogated or expunged by their own
results, for the same reason that streams cannot change their
own fountains, anil rliildren cannot determine the being of their
own parenrs. Let men, for instance. thrDw any liglit of plausibil-
ity they may ai-ound mateiialism; let them please themselves
with tile fancy iliar tliey have identified mind with matter; let
the physiologist pretend to trace the power of thought into his
"nerve-force," and to resolve this in turn into electricity. There
remains still the stubborn and fundamental fact of psychology,
which the common sen.se of men will, in the end, always eon
strue for theni.selves, without or against the pretended helps of
science; that the consciousness of that which thinks, the sub-
jective Ego, is necessarily ]nior to all possible jterception of
objective matter, ^^o that the only terms upon which man can
know matter at all involve a priori the recognition of mind as
inevitably contrasted with matter. That is. the very law of our
cognition is, that we must first know mind as not matter
in order to know matter.
Our most recent infidelity asserts that nothing is valid ex
cept that which is formed on the perceptions of the senses. But
unless they accept with us the supersensuous rational belief,
that what sense gives us is valid, it is Impossible for sense it-
self to show them any truth.
Again, man must cease to be man before he can strip him-
self of conscience, of the conviction of -moral responsibility, of
the .sense of guilt for transgression, of hope, of fear, and of the
inextinguishable desire for his own well-1)eing. These senti-
ments are the universal results of fundamental intuitions. All
that can be done is to forget them or to obscure them for a
time; but when they are revived by the touch of affliction, dan-
ger, remorse, or death, man will derive and seek a ])ro])itiation
for his guilt, a preparation for judgment, and a way t > future
happiness, as surely as he is man. The sentiment of religion is
omnipotent in the end. We might rest in assurance of its tri-
umph, even without appealing to the work of .that Holy Ghost
which Christianity promises as the omnipotent coadjutor of the
truth. While irreligious men of science explore the facts of
NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE. 475
natural history, and the fossils of earthly strata, for fancied
proofs of a creation by evolution which may dispense with a
Creator, the luimble heralds of our Lord Christ will continue to
lay rheii" hands upon the heart-striuos of living immortal men,
and tind there always forces to overwhelm unbelief with de-
feat. Does tlie "Positivist" say these propositions are only of
things spiritual? Ay, but spiritual consciousnesses are more
stable tlian all his jtrimitive granite I Centuries hence, if man
shall continue in his present state S3 long, when the current
theories of unbelief shall have been consigned to that limbus
where polytheism and the Ptolemaic astronomy, alchemy, and
judicial astrology lie contemned, the servants of the Cross will
be winning larger and yet larger victories for Christ, with the
same Gospel which was preached by Enoch, Noah, Abraham,
Moses, Isaiah. Paul, Augustine and Calvin.
Hampden ^^idney, Ya., Oct. 1st. 1873.
SAMUBL C. ANDERSON. OF PRINCE EDWARD.'
Every Presbytei'ian of intelligence, who visited the neigh-
l)L)iIiood of Hampden Sidney aibont the years 1835 to 1840, car-
ried a\^ay with liini, among liis most pleasing recollections, the
memories )f tlie liosj)itable mansion of Mr. Anderson. He was
then in the prime of his corporeal and intellectual powers, and
of his Christian inrtuence: a leading elder in the College
riuircli, and rrustee of tlip College, the foremost advocate at
the bar of his county; and the honored and trusted adviser of
its people. His liDuse during all these years, was frequented
with delight il)y young and old, and was the center of a wide
circle of cultivated, -Christian society; where Mr. Anderson, as-
sisted by his accomplished wife, and his lovely adopted daugh-
ter, dispensed a professional income almoist princely, in un-
bounded hi)spitalities and charities. His noble person and
countenance will not speedily be forgotten by any, who saw
him in the animation of social converse, or in the flow of his
masculine and impetuous oratory. He was, in every sense, a
man of nature's noblest mould.
Amidst the horrors and confusions attending the closing
camjtaign of (JtMicral Lee upon rhe Appomattox, the death of
this venerable servant of God has perhai)s passed unnoted by
many of his former friends. The suspension of the circulation
of the religious journals has also delayed the publication of
the usual tribute to his memory. This will now be attempted,
in the form of a brief narrative.
Mr. Anderson was the son of a respectable planter upon
Willis' Kiver. in the county of Cumberland, where he was born
July 21st. 1788. l^p to approaching manhood, he received only
the plain education of the old-field-school: when he was seized
with an irresistible desire for a liberal education. There was an
excellent classical school six or seven miles distant; but his
father declared that, while he might 'be able to pay his tuition,
1 Appeared in The Presbyterian Quarterly, April, 1894. 476
SAMUEL C. ANDERSON 477
his limited cirenmstances forbade liis assiiiiiino the expense of
his boai'ding ai)road. The 3'oiitli declared that he would fre-
quent the school daily from home, notwithstanding the dis-
tance. His father supposed that he would soon wearj^ of this
undertaking, but gave his consent to the experiment. He joy-
fully accepted the opportunity; and for several years was the
most punctual pupil at the school. Taking his breakfast with
the dawn, he might be seen every morning before the sun, set-
ting out afoot upon his dail\' journey, and he was usually the
first scholar at th(^ school-house. Here he gained a S3lid train-
ing in the classics, and some of the rudiments of science; and
this was tbp only i)atrimony he ever received from his father.
While still a youth, he went to the county of Powhatan,
where for four years he taught a country school. In this avoca
tion his success was so great, that old Dr. Lacy (Silver-fist),
himself a famous teacher, declared he ought to be compelled
to follow it for life, for the public good. His talent of com
mand and force of character were here strongly developed. His
diligence and punctuality were unfailing, and such was the in-
dustry and subordination he inspired, that a lazy or bad boy
was unknown in his school. Aftcn' the good, old Virginian
fashion, the boys and girls of the neighborhood were taught to-
gether: a custom which did much to foster that courtesy, mu
tual respect, and purity, which so highly distinguished the in-
tercourse of the sexes among us. In these schools, under the
eye of a watchful teacher, the young learned from childhood
the proper "metes and bounds'' of virtuous intercourse, and
grew up from little gentlemen and ladies. Mr. Andersan was
peculiarly watchful in guarding this intercourse, and exacting
of the 'boys a punctilious respect for their female associates.
He said that the greatest whipping he ever gave, was to a
gawky youth (as big as himself) for entering the school-room
on a sultry afternoon, without his caat (clothed in the other
garments, shirt, vest, trousers, etc.)
Having served two campaigns with credit in the State
forces, during the war of 1812, he returned to civil life, and
studied the science of law with Captain Henry E. Watkins, oif
Prince Edward, his life-long friend, and co-elder. He com-
menced the practice of this profession in the year 1816, at
Prince Edward Court House. Here he married, settled, and
478 SAMUEL C. ANDERSON.
spent his life. His diligence, integrity, and forensic eloquence
si^eedily raised him to the head of his profession: a pasr which
he did nor fail to maintain, to the end of his active life. .Vs a
lawyer, he was quick, ready, full of resource in deliate. inijta-
tient of the labor of preliminary research, but oviM'p )wering in
r(^joinder. His generous sympathies and ardent nature caused
hiui to identify himself warmly with his clients: so that he was
always a zealous advocate. His comrades, knowing the influ-
ence of forensic strife in rousing his powers, and the force of
his oratory upon juries, always sought to give him the closing
speech in important cases. The best judges have said that, in
those years, Samuel C. Anderson, in the bar of Prince Edward
or Buckingham, exposing some artful fraud, or pleading the
aspersed honor of innocent woman, was the noblest specimen
of manly beauty, power, and eloquence, ever seen in that re-
gion.
Upan the retirement of John Randolph, of Koanoke, from
Congress, the leading citizens of his party urged Mr. Anders<(n
to become a candidate for that place, with the certainty of be-
ing elected his successor. He declined the proposal, in favor
of Judge Bouldin ; who served for a short time with great dis-
tinction, and died in his seat in the House, of apoplexy. The
reason assigned by ^Ir. Anderson for refusing political honors
at that time, was worthy of the consideration of every young
man. He said that he had a liberal professional income, with
free and hospitable habits af living, without private estate.
Hence, as his attention to public affairs must diminish his earn-
ings, he could not at once maintain his domestic estaiblishment,
and his pecuniary independence. But no man, he judged,
should be entrusted with the interests of his country, whose
j)ersonal independence was encumbered with any financial
shackles: lest they should become a tem])tation to tarnish that
briglit purity of actiDU, which the public servant should ever
possess.
Tn the year 1828 the visit of Dr. Xettleton to Virginia oc-
lurred, which resulted in so remarkable and permanent a work
of grace. On the invitation of Dr. John H. Rice, this elocjuent
and holy man visited the region about the College; and his la-
bors were instrumental in bringing into the church a large
number of the first men of the country, of whom many have
SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. 479
fallen asleep; but some vet remain to adorn tlieir profession.
Among these converts was Mr. Anderson. He had lived hith-
erto, strictly honorable and virtuous after the world's standard,
but "without (xod in the world," and in the very luxuriance of
his healtli, prosperity, and manly energies. The word of God
now took hold upon him with giant power. He declared that al-
though, in one sense, he had heard many able preachers, whose
sermons his retentive memory would have enabled him to re-
peat almost entire, in another sense, he had never heard a ser-
mon before. The nature of God's law, his relations to it, and
liis wants as a sinner, were now seen by him in as new a light,
as though he had been hitherto one of I'aul's Athenian hearers
upon .Vreopagus. With an overpowering conviction of his
guilt and misery fixed in his soul, he determined that lie would
at once seek its salvation with all his might. Dr. Xettletou was
holding private meetings for special instruction, in the parlor
of Dr. Rice (in the northeastern corner of the Seminary build-
ing, then just partly erected) similar to what are now called iu-
quirj'-meetings: and all those who desired more particular
knowledge of 'what they must do to 'be saved,' were invited to
attend there in the evening. MauA' powerful impulses of pride
and false shame deterred Mr. Anderson from attending. The
evil principles within him pleaded: "What will your gay, pro-
fessional comrades say, when thev hear that the lofty head of
Samuel C. Anderson is bowed in such a meeting, amidst a clus-
ter of weejnug school-boys and girls, confessing his sins to a
parson?" As he rode to the jjlace. his breast was in a tumult of
strife; and when he came to the door of the room, saw the lights
within, and the solemn stillness of the compau}', so powerful
was the struggle between the evil and the good within him,
that, he declared, it was as though some invisible, 'but adaman-
tine bar had been placed across the door of the room, which re-
sisted his entrance with a palpable force. But he bethought
himself that this reluctance to enter was prompted by sinful
affections, seconded most probably by Satan: tliat he needed the
instruction he sought there; and that if he now yielded to a
false impulse, and retired, it would l)e a vii-tual turning of iiis
back upon Christ and duty, for the sake of sin, and might be
the sealing of his impenitence forever. He therefore nerved
himself with an almost desperate resolve, and literally broke
480 SAMUEL C. ANDEESON.
through into tlie room, where he took liis seat aiuoiig the peni-
tents. This decisive moment seemed to be the turning point
with his soul, and he speedily found peace in believing. The
determination to cast all sinful and Satanic obstacles behind
him, in pursuing those means of grace which lie felt to be ap-
propriate to his wants and duty, was probably nothing else
than the initial acting of faith and repentance, in embracing
Christ, and his service: although at ttrst he knew it not as such.
He soon enrolled himself among (fad's people; and sucli was
his Christian walk, that after a few years, he was elected one
of their elders: an office which he tilled with increasing pieiy
to his death.
His abilities and decision speedily made him a num of
mark in the Presbyterian Church. He cultivated an ardent
friendship for her leading ministers, and especially for Drs.
Rice and Baxter, whose steady coadjutor and adviser he was,
in all their labors for Zion. With his usual liberality, he now
set apart one-third of his income, the whole of which proceed-
ed from his professional labor, for the service of the church;
and during his prosperous years, this portion was expended in
charities, in sustaining the religious press, and in other Chris-
tian enter{)rises. besides the sums lavished in his unfailing hos-
pitalities.
The most signal service wliicli he rendered to the church,
in the estimation >f the public at large, was his famous speech
in the Assembly of 1837. in spport lof the. so-called, excinding
acts. Dr. Baxter and he were among the commissioners from
West Haeover Presbytery to that body: in which the fornu-r
was the acknowledged leader of the old scliool. It was in Bax-
ter's capacious mind that the plan originated, after all other
expedients seemed hopeless, of ridding the church of the incu-
bus of the new measures and theology, by declaring the Plan
of Union unconstitutional. During the sessions of the Assem-
bly he came to Mr. Anderson and asked him briefly: ''If a leg-
islative proceeding be found unconstitutional, what becomes
of the executive and administrative acts which are grounded
on it?" "They are all,'' said :Mr. Anderson, ''null and void, in
law." "Then.'' said Dr. Baxter, "prepare yourself to prove it
in the Assembly.'' The doctor, having explained his views to
the old-school men, in their nightly convention, ov caucus,
SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. 481
moved them the next day, in the house, in a short series of
propositions, whose logic was built together like an arch of
stone; and then remitted the discussion mainly to j'ounger and
more forward men. The chief debater.s of the two parties now-
waged, for several days, a forensic war of the giants. The New
School relied up3n an elder from Pennsylvania, who was also
a distinguished judge at law, to assail the legal principles of
Dr. Baxters plan. Mr. Anderson went to him, and politely
indicated his wish to take part in the discussion on the other
side, requesting the use of the legal authorities introduced into
the ease. This the judge politely accorded; and it may be added
that, in the subsequent discuss'ion, the two maintained towards
each other a forensic courtesy, by which the acrimony of many
of the clergy was put to shame. The judge also suggested that
^Ir. Anderson, if he could succeed in getting the floor in the
general eagerness to speak, at the end of his speech, should
make the closing reply. The latter could not but indulge an in-
ward smile, as he said to himself: ''Had you known the esti-
mate of my peculiar forte held by my legal brethren at home,
you would hardly have volunteered this proposal." The judge,
with the customary self-esteem of his section, evidently regard-
ed Ms proposed antagonist from the South, as the reverse of
formidable.
Meantime, the clerical leaders of the Old School, had laid
out their parliamentary tactics for the day, designing to put
up one of their leading debaters to reply to the legal argument
of the judge, and selecting an active man, at the close of that
speech, to spring to his feet, secure the floor, and demand the
previous (question. But when the judge finished, to their great
chagrin, ^Ir. Anderson obtained the floor, instead of their cham-
pion. Their faces showed mortification; those of the larger
number displayed wonder, who this unknown combatant could
be who thus thrust himself into the war of the princes; and
Dr. Baxter, who knew his man, was sufl'used with a smile of
quiet enjoyment. When ^Ir. Anderson found that the Mod-
erator had recognized him, all his self-possession for a moment
deserted him: He, who was perfectly collected in the stormier
forums of the bar and hustings, now found liimself without a
single idea, in this novel arena, before the vast audience col-
lected from every part of the Union, and especially at the
•J82 SAMUEL C. ANDEESON.
thought of the anxious aud sympathizing countenance of his
'beloved wife, which lie well knew, was bent upon him from
some retired nook of the galleries. But he said that he be-
thought himself to fill up a minute with some commonplaces
about his respect for the Moderator and the body, and his dif-
fidence, until his self-possessdon returned to him: and after this
exordium, he was conscious that he had regained the full poise
of all his faculties. As he proceeded in his rejoinder, the im-
patience of the house was replaced by surprise, aud by delight.
Whispers of. "Who is he?" "Who is he?" ran over the au-
dience. He proceeded, with just such vigorous and courteous
logic as he was accustomed to employ in the courts of Virginia,
intermingled with happy repartee and luxuriant humor, to turn
the legal argument of the Xew School inside out, to overthi'ow
their pDsitions \sith their own authorities, and to sweep away
their arguments, like the wind the chaff of the threshing floor.
It was manifest that he was making a profound impression on
the house, and that his argument must be decisive of the vote.
Dr. Absalom Peters, the Ajax of the New School, writhing
like a culprit upon the rack, at the demolition of his cause,
could contain himself no longer; but springing to Ms feet in-
terrupted Mr. Anderson, and announcing again a position which
he seemed to regard as the very citadel of his strength, said
tauntingly, "I should like to hear the gentleman come to that
topic." "I shall come to that soon enough for you." replied he.
shaking his finger at him in acceptance 3f his challenge. His
Old School friends almost held their breaths with anxiety, as
they said to themselves: "Will his performance be. indeed,
able to come up to this audacious pledge?" But wheu. in the
regular order of his reply, he reached the favorite premise of
Dr. Peters, he exploded it with a happy power, and clear light,
which formed the climax of his victory, and silenced his ad-
versary effectually. Meantime he took occasion to exact of Dr.
Peters a. good natured revenge for his discourtesy. Seeing him
anxiously fumbling a law-book introduced by the judge, and
by him promised to Mr. Anderson, he reached his hand for it,
saying in a sotto-voce audible to the whole house: "Give it
me: raw hands ought not to meddle with edged tools." At this,
the inimitable humor of his expressive countenance convulsed
the audience with laughter.
SAMUKL C. Af^DERSON. 483
When he closed his remarks, the person selected by the
Old School to ask the previous question, felt that no other ar-
gument could be so effective, and at once performed his ap-
pointed task. The house was apparently satisfied als-o: the
call was granted, and the majority which voted with the Old
School showed, that Mr. Anderson had decided every mind
which wavered. All, except Virginians, were startled and
amazed at this display of his powers. The Xorthern people
a'bout the Assembly, espec-ialh', asked themselves: How comes
it that this great master of debate has been hitherto unheard
of by us? They said, his powers, like those of Pa»llas, must
have sprung at one leap from their infancy to their adult vigor.
But this was all mistaken. Mr. Anderson now exhibited no
other powers, than those which, in his happier occasions, his
compeers w^ere often accustomed to witness in him at the bar
of Prince Edward. In this ecclesiastical debate, he had a sub-
ject cuited to his faculties and taste: a great principle of con-
stitutional law. His mastery over it, and the amazing contrast
between his handling of it and that of his Northern adversaries,
was but an illustration of the superior civic culture prevalent
among the gentlemen of Virginia, and, ypt more, of their deep-
er veneration for constitutional bonds.
This interesting incident has been described at this
length, only because of its eclat without his own circle. In
the Synod of Virginia, he sustained the reforms of 1837, with
equal eloquence. For a number of years, indeed, as long as
health allowed, he was an interested and influential member
of church courts in his own State, and his helping hand was in
every good work. Thus he passed along for fifteen j^ears more,
busy in his laborious profession, and frequently charged with
public trusts for church and State.
About the year 1852, his robust frame was shattered by
an attack of paralysis. For a time, he lay motionless, and in-
capable of speech, and. as others supposed, unconscious. But
he said afterwards, that the sense of hearing, the powers of
thought, and the sensibility to pain, were even unnaturally ac-
tive: and at the very moment that he heard the anxious friends
around his bed congratulating him on this sad advantage, that
he was at least insensible to suffering, he was enduring not only
bodily pain, but a wringing of the nerves unspeakably more
484 SAMUEL 0. ANDERSON.
agonizing than mere pain. His experience suggests the truth,
which nurses and ministers of religion should bear in mind,
that oftentimes cousciousne:SS and the powers of attention are
awake in the sick, where they have the ability to ''give no sign."
Had the consolations of religion been addressed to Mr. Ander-
son at that hour, he would have appreciated them fully, al-
though utterly unable to signify it, by voice, or motion of an
eyelid, or a muscle. This alarming disease was, however, ar-
rested, and by virtue of his temperance and sanity of constitu-
tion, it left no after-consequences, except a tremor of the
hands, which gradually grew with the advances of age.
Mr. Anderson at once felt this, as a distinct summons to
"set his house in order." He did not demit any of the active
duties of life; but anticipating some sudden return of his mal-
ady, he made his account to die with his harness on. Yet there
was a great increase of the depth, tenderness, and devotion of
his Christian character. He still frequented, as before, the old
law office in the corner of his shrubbery, which had for so long
been the scene of active bustle, and the haun-t of a throng of
clients. But his tremulous hand refused even to write a legal
instrument: aud the laborious duties of his profession were
turned over to a young kinsman, who had become his partner,
afterwards known aud lamented, a;s the distinguished Colonel
John S. Thornton. Those who visited Mr. Anderson, in these
later years, in his office, were almost sure to find him reading
his old quarto Bible. This became the constant, the almost ex-
clusive occupation of his leisure. Pencil in hand, he dwelt de-
liberately upon each clause, signifying his appreciation of those
which struck him as peculiarly weighty, by a Toroad mark
drawn underneath. Going over his Bible thus, again and again,
it gradually became 'blackened all over with these marks, to an
almost incredible extent. This old Bible is now treasured up,
as a curious aud affecting memorial of his diligence in the study
of the Word. The maturing of grace in his character was also
■most marked in his prayers, at the domestic altar, and in the
prayer meetings of the church, which he so much loved to fre-
quent, as long as his infirmities allowed. His devotions were
peculiar for the profound, and yet triumphant tone of rever-
ence and adoration, and the holy importunity, which pervaded
them more and more. To every spiritually-minded Christian,
SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. 485
it was a treat, a refreshment, to bear Mr. Anderson lead in
prayer.
When his infirmities increased, a transaction occurred be-
tween him and his hiw-partner, Mr. Thornton, equally honorable
to both. He had taken this young kinsman into his oflQce when
he was first licensed; and he had rapidly grown into high favor
with the people. Mr. Anderson now volunteered to declare to
him, that their partnership must be dissDlved. "I am but a
burden to you now," he added. "You do all the work, and en-
dure the hardships: you are virtually supporting my family, as
well as your own: and it is not just that I should allow you to
burden yourself with such an incubus, in your ascending career.
You must set up f3r yourself, so as to advance unimpeded by
me." When Mr. Anderson proposed this, he well knew that
its execution would consign him almost to penury: for his gen-
erous and almost profuse spirit had left him no accumulations
from his years of arduous labar. But 'Sh\ Thornton positively
refused to accede to the dissolution of the partnership; urging
that ^Ir. Anderson's present enjoyment of the moiety of the
earnings of the firm was but a just return for his princely gen-
erosity, in according to him the same share, at the 'beginning;
when he was but a stripling, withDut professional patronage
or experience; and that, if Mr. Anderson no longer did his half
of the riding, writing, and speaking, yet his wisdom in counsel,
and his moral weight, were still richly worth their pay. In;
this generous strife, both seemed for a time equally obstinate;
but at last the dbstinacy of Thornton prevailed; and amidst Mr.
Anderson's growing iurtruiities. the partnership continued, un-
til the approach of the war indicated that the former was to be
called to other scenes of usefulness.
In this great cnutest for rlir ind(^i)endence of ^'irginia, ^Ir.
Anderson was a consistent and ardent supporter of his native
State. Just in proportion tj his piety, ripening for heaven, was
the clearness and steadfastness of his devotion to the great con-
stitutional rights, which, he believed, were about to be over-
thrown. His embarrassed affairs and growing decrepitude left
him little else that he could do for his country, except to coun-
sel, to pray, and to suffer. Most no'bly did he do all these; and
especially the latter. To his friends, it was one of the most
touching incidents of the calamities of the country, to see such
480 SAMUEL C ANDERSON.
a man, whose liberal hand had solaced so many, reduced, by
the depreciation of the currency, and other difficulties of the
time, to the verge of want. But he bore every privation with
a cheerful, modest dignity, beautiful to behold, and instructive
to all younger men. Always hopeful, ever courageous, he was
a stay and stimulus to all whom he met ; and when he crept out
to the Court House hard by, leaning on his staff, to speak a
word of cheer to the people, and leave his benediction with
them, the fire of better years was rekindled in his eye, and the
old walls recognized again the sonorous echo of that voice,
which was wont to peal there, when the lion of the ibar had
trodden his stage, and shaken his kingly mane at the enemies
of country and right, in the days of his strength. But that
mane was now white as the snows of the hoary Alps; and the
tread of his stalwart lim'bs was slower and slower. His orb
was steadily approaching its western horizon, serenely, and
brightly, despite the war-clouds whose angry and thickening
folds had usurped the place of that peaceful, glowing sunset,
which we would have desired to close the evening of such a
career as his. Then came suddenly, the fall of his country; and
at that blow, his spirit said, "It is enough," and sank instantly
to its rest: to rise again in the eternal heavens.
On the night of Sunday, April 2nd, General Lee silently
evacuated Richmond and Petersburg, and began his arduous
and doubtful retreat towards the waters of the Roanoke. Mr.
Anderson heard even this appalling news, with a steadfast
heart: he still refused to despair of the Republic: and in the
immediate jirospect of passing, witli liis lionu^ and family, into
the lines of the enemy, his spirit was as unshaken and composed
as ever. The morning of Friday, the 7th, tlie quiet village was
overwhelmed by the sudden irruption of the Federal cavalry,
who, in an instant, spread themselves everywhere, plundering
and ravaging. Mr. Anderson was arrested, and led across the
street before one of their generals, who attempted to carry him
through a harsh and unfeeling catechism concerning the move-
ments of the retreating Confederates, and the routes of the
country. He answered, with quiet dignity, that if they would
observe him, his obvious infirmities, at least, would show them
a reason why such information should not be demanded of him.
Brutality itself could find no pretext to harrass such a victim,
SAMUEL C ANDERSON. 487
and be was coldly dismissed. He returned to his dwelling to
find it filled from garret to cellar, with a rabble of troopers,
defiling and pilfering everything with their unclean hands.
Seeing that corporeal resistance was simply mad, and that
there was no spark of principle or compunction in such breasts,
to which to appeal, he judged that his self-respect would be
best consulted by perfect quiet. Where a righteous defense was
impossible, he disdained to complain. But the insult, the un-
utterable indignation, were too much for his tottering frame.
He was soon no longer able to direct his steps, and betook him-
self to his bed. Here he la}', with a quiet spirit, engaged in
silent prayer, receiving the cares of his beloved wife and sis-
ter with a tender and gushing thankfulness, still bidding them
to be of good courage in their God. The neighborhood was so
filled, and every house so beset, during all these days, with
plunderers, that it was almost impossible for the few males out
of the army, to leave their owm doors, to render the common
offices of humanity to a neighbor. But the chivalrous women
braved every inconvenience, and gave the needed assistance. On
the next Tuesday, the news of General Lee's final surrender
was brought to Mr. Anderson. This was, literally, the final
blow to his feeble body. Thenceforward, the expectation and
the desire of life were extinguished — he calmly said: "It is the
Lord; let him do what seemeth to him good"; and, "Now lettest
thou thy servant depart in peace." Yes. in peace! although the
ruins of a fallen country were crashing around his dying bed.
Thus, on Tuesday, the 18th of April, he calmly and devoutly
committed his soul to God. gave up the ghost, and was gathered
unto his fathers.
A few days after (it was the very day that the pompous
obsequies of Lincoln, and the popular phreusy were filling
Washington City with tumult); a handful of his neighbors, with
the pastors and elders, sadly and silently conveyed his venera-
ble remains to their ri^sting placr at the (V)lh'ge Church. In
peaceful times, his fellow citizens would have delighted to hon-
or him with such a funeral cortege as country places had rarely
witnessed. Now, there was none; the people had just been
robbed of every "beast of burden; and the young men were eith-
er in bloody graves, or in captivity, or fleeing before their ene-
mies. But it is sufficient consolation to know, that the song
488 SAMUEL C. ANDEKSON.
of the angels was not therefore the less rapturous, as his ran-
somed spirit entered heaven's gates: and that the hallowed dust
sleeps none the less safelv in the Redeemer's keeping, until the
resurrection.
To human apprehension, it would liaA'e been happy for Mr.
Anderson to live until the deliverance of the eountrv he Loved
so ardently was accomplished: and to render up his rejoicing
spirit to (rod amidst peaceful liberty. But seeing it has been
determined by his sovereign and awful Providence, that Vir-
ginia should submit to bondage, the time of our friend's de-
jtarture was most excellently chosen. He went away to the
mightly dead with the vanishing glories of his country. The
great Deliverer stepped in, and with his impemal sceptre, for-
bade that any bonds should alight upon his free spirit. He
had ever lived a freeman; and now he was forever enfranchised
by death. How much are they to be envied, who having been
made meet for "the inheritance of the saints in light,'' are per-
mitted thus to receive the fulfillment of the i»rayer of Jackson:
''that we may not be required to survive the independence of
our country.''
When the convulsions of the times permitted it, the most
honorable testimonials to his memory were adopted by the Ses-
sion of his church, the court and bar of Prince P^dward county,
and the other public bodies with which he had been connected.
WOMEN'S RIGHTS WOMEN.'
In oui- day, innovations mareli with so rapid a stride tliat
they qnite take away one's breath. The fantastical project of
yesterday, which was mentioned only to be ridiculed, is to-day
the audacious reform, and will be ta-niorrow the accomplished
fact. Such has been the history of the agitation for ''women's
rights," as they are sophistically called in this country. A few
3'ears ago this movement was the especial hobby of a few old
women of both sexes, who made themselves the laughing-stock
of all sane people by the annual ventilation of their crotchet.
Their only recruits were a few of the unfortunates whom nature
or fortune had debarred from tliDse triumphs and enjoyments
which are the natural ambition of the sex, and wlio adopted
this agitation as the most feasible mode of expressing their
spitefulness against the successful competitors. To-day the
movement has assumed such dimensions that it challenges the
attention of every thoughtful mind.
If we understand the claims of the Women's Rights wom-
en, they are in substance two: that the legislation, at least, of
society shall disregard all the natural distinctions of the sexes,
and award the same specific rights and franchises to both in
every respect; and that woman while in the married state shall
be released from every species of conjugal subordination. The
assimilation of the garments of the two sexes, their competition
in the same industries and professions, and their common ac-
cess to the same amusements and recreations, are social changes
which the "strong-minded'' expect to work, each one for her-
self, when once the obstructions of law are removed from the
other points.
One result of the reflection which we have been able to
give this movement, is the conviction that it will prevail in the
so-called ''I'nited States." This is foreshadowed ^j the frantic
lust for innovation which has seized the body of the people like
1 From The Southern Magazine. 489
490 women's rights women.
an epidemic. It is enough with them to condemn any institu-
tion, that it was bequeathed us by our forefathers; because it
is not tile invention of this age. it is wrong, of course. In their
eyes no experience proves anything, save the experience which
they have had themselves. They do not suppose that our fathers
were wise enough to interpret and record the lessons of former
experiences. That certain things did not succeed in our fore-
fathers' hands is no proof that they will not succeed in ouri
hands; for we are "cute." v^e live in an enlightened age. and un-
derstand how to manage things successfully. The philosophy of
the Yankee mind is precisely that of the Yankee girl who, when
she asked for leave to marry at seventeen, was dissuaded by her
mother that she ''had married very early and had seen the folly
of it." "Yes; but. Mamma." replied the daughter, "I want to
see the folly of it far myself." Your Yankee philosopher is
too self-sufficient to be cautioned from the past. He does not
know history; he would not believe its conclusions if he did;
he has no use for its lights, hiiving enough "subjective'' light
of his own. To such a people the fact that a given experiment
is too absurd to have been ever tried before, is an irresistible
fascination: it is a chance not to be neglected.
The symptoms of approaching success which already ex-
ist are such as may well cheer the advocates of the new revo-
lution. They who a few years ago counted their adherents by
scores, now have tens of thousands. They are represented by
their own press. They have received the support of at least
one religious journal, which presumes to call itself Christian
and is the organ of a numerous denomination — the Ne7v York
Independent. They receive the obsequious homage of the dema-
gogues of the day. They have already engrafted a part of their
ideas upon some ?>tate constitutions. Their apostles are in-
vited to lecture before "Christian Associations" (of that peculiar
kind which enumerate billiard and card-tables among the means
of grace), and before the United States Congress. And last, a
kindred cause, that of indiscriminate divorces, is making such
progress in many of the States that it will soon be able to lend
a strong helping-hand to its sister. Now it is by just such steps
that Radicalism grew from its despised infancy in this country.
It was just thus that Abolitionism grew. It is thus that all
women's rights women. 491
things grow on the American soil which ripen tlieir harvests of
exil.
The advocates of these "women's rights" may be expected
to win the day, because the premises from which they argue
their revolution have been irrevocably admitted by the bulk of
the people. Now this popular mind may not be consciously or
intentionally consistent and logical. It may jump to many con-
clusions without much analysis of the steps by which they are
reached. It may deliberately harbor the most express purpose
to be guilty of any logical inconsistency, however outrageous, in
pursuing its supposed interests ; and may have its mind ever so
clearly made up to eat its own words and principles whenever
its convenience prompts that measure. But still the Creator
has made man, in spite of himself, a logical animal; and conse-
quences will work themselves out, whether he designs it or
not, to those results which the premises dictate. History will
write out the corollaries of the theorems whether the projec-
tors wish to stop for them or not. Now, false principles are al-
ready firmly planted from which the whole "Women's Rights"'
claim must follow. If we look at the coarser, more concrete,
and popular fonn in which the consequence is drawn, we find
the argument for the popular. Radical mind perfectly unan-
swerable. "It has been decided that all negro men have a right
to vote: is n<jt a Yankee white woman with her 'smartness' and
education as good as a stupid, ignorant, Southern black?" We
should like to see the answer to that logic from that premise
which a Northern Radical mind could be made to appreciate.
An unanswera'ble point thus perpetually made upon the mind
of the public, will impinge at last.
Or if we examine the argument in its more exact and logi-
cal form, we shall find it, after the established (false) premises
are granted, equally conclusive for the educated. The very
axioms of American politics now are, that "all men are by na-
ture equal," that all are inalienably "entitled to liberty and the
pursuit of happiness," and that "the only just foundation of
governinient is in the consent of the governed." There was a
sense in which our fathers propounded these statements; but
it is not the one in which they are now held by Americans. Our
recent doctors of political science have retained these formu
laries of words as convenient masks under which to circulate u
492 women's rights women.
set of totally different, and indeed antagonistic notions; and
they liaA'e succeeded perfectly. The new meanings of which the
"Whigs" of 1776 never dreamed are now the current ones. Those
wise statesmen meant to teach that all men are morally equal
in the sense of the Grolden Rule: that while individual traits,
rights, and duties vary widely in the different orders of politi-
cal society, these different rights all have some moral basis;
that the inferior has the same moral title (that of a common hu-
manity and co-mmon relation to a benignant Heavenly Father)
to have his rights — the rights of an inferior — duly respected,
whicli ilic superior has to claim that his very different rights
shall be res])eeted. The modern version is that there are no
superiors or inferiors in society; that there is a mechanical
equality; that all have specifically all the same rights; and that
any other constitution is against natural justice. Next: when
our wise fathers said that liberty is an inalienable, natural
right, they meant by each one's liberty the privilege to do such
things as he, with his particular relations, ought to have a mor-
al title to do; the particular things having righteous, natural
limitations in every case, and much narrower limits in some
cases than in olliers. Radical .Vmerica now means by natural
liberty each one's privilege to do what he chooses to do. By the
consent of the governed our forefathers meant each Sovereign
Commonwealth's consenting to the constitution under which it
should be governed: they meant that it was unjust for Britain
to govern America without America's consent. Which part of
the human 'beings living in a given American State should con-
stitute the State })otentially, the populus whose franchise it was
to express the will of the commonwealth for all — that was in
their eyes wholly another question, to be wisely decided in dif-
ferent States according to the structure which Providence had
given them. By "the consent of the governed'' it would appear
that Radicalism means it is entirely just for Yankeedom to gov-
ern Virginia against Virginia's consent, and that it is not just
to govern any individnal human being without letting him
vote for his governors. The utter inconsistency of the two parts
of this creed is not ours to reconcile. It is certain that both
parts (consistent or not) are firmly held as the American creed.
The version given to the maxim as to individual rights is uni-
versally this: that natural justice requires that suffrage shall
women's rights women, 493
be coextensive with allegiance, except where the right has been
forfeited by some crime (such as that which the men of 18G1
oommitted in presuming to act on the principles of the men of
1776). To these errors the American people are too deepl}- com-
mitted to evade any of their logical applications. For the sake
of these dogmas they have destroyed one Federal and eleven
other State constitutions, have committed a lialf anillion of mur-
ders, and (dearest of all) have spent some seven thousand mil-
lions of dollars. Repudiate these maxims now! Never! This
would be to dishonor the ghosts of all the slaughtered Union-
Savers, to shame the sacrifices of all the "Trooly Lo'll" during
the glorious four years, to dim the very crown of martyrdom
upon the brow of the ''late lamented," and worst of all, to out-
rage the manes of all those departed dollars.
Now then, when Mistress Amaaona Narragansett steps for-
ward, and having vindicated her claim to have belonged always
to the true Israel of the "Unconditional Unianists," demands a
simple and obvious application of these honored maxims to her
own case, how can she be gainsaid? Hitherto the State has
governed her without asking her consent at the ballot-b:)x. This
is self-evidently against the immortal truth that "all just gov-
ernment is founded on the consent of the governed.'' The State
has restrained her natural liberty of doing as she chose, com-
pelling her to pay a great many dollars in taxes which she
would rather have chosen to expend in crinoline, and forbidding
her to do a great many other little acts, such as bigamy, etc.,
which might have been her preference (and therefore her na-
tural right); and all this without even saving the State's credit
and manners by asking her consent at the polls to the laws
made for her. And last: the State has committed the crowning-
outrage and inconsistency of not letting her be a man because
God made her a woman! What an outrage this to be commit-
ted on so frivolous a pretext! Be consoled, Mistress Amazona ;
it is simply impossible that such abuses can stand much long-
er in the full light of this reforming age. "The scho'ol-mistress
is abroad.'' That mighty tide of progress which has already
swept away the Constitution, and slavery, and State's rights,
and the force of contracts public and private, witli all such rub-
bish, will soon dissolve your grievance also. Has not the Radi-
cal version of the political gospel said, "All men are by nature
494 WOME]N"*S RIGHTS WOMEIf.
mechanicallj equal?" And "man," Mistress Amazona (as jou
will know when you acquire the virile right of learning Latin)
here means, not vir, but home; the species irrespective of sex.
It means that a woman has a natural right to do all the particu-
lar things that a man does {if she can), to sit on juries and
shave her beard, to serve in the army and ride astraddle, to
preach sermons and sing bass.
But seriously: a woman is a human being, and a grown
woman is an adult. She is treated, and must be treated, by all
governments as a citizen owing allegiance and subject to law.
On those principles, which are the first principles of Radical-
ism, it is impossible to deny her right to vote and to participate
in all the franchises of men. Her exclusion is a glaring in-
stance of "class legislation" — that odious thing which Radical-
ism so strongly condemns as contrary to equality. To subject
women to these disabilities is even a more glaring injustice than
was the exclusion of the negro from American citizenship be-
cause he was '^guilty of a skin"; for here the exclusion from
natural rights is grounded on the sole fact that woman is "guil-
ty of a sex." And especially are all those laws unnatural and
inexcusable iniquities which subject the person or property of
the wife to any marital authority. What is such marriage but
a species of (white) domestic slavery? Nor is it any excuse to
say that in America no woman enters the married state save
at her own option; for to that state the most commanding in-
stincts of woman's being impel her; and it is but a mocking
tyranny to impose this slavery on the married state of woman,
and tell her then that she need not submit to the yoke if she
chooses to avoid it by sacrificing the chief instincts of her be-
ing. Why, it ma}' be even said to the galley-slave that he need
not be a slave, provided he is willing to disregard that other
primal instinct, the love of life: suicide will set him free!
Such is the logic of the Women's Rights party, from Radi-
cal premises. Its prospect of triumph is greatly increased by
this, that its Northern opponents (the only ones who have any
power to oppose) have disabled themselves from meeting it by
their furious Abolitionism. The premises of that doctrine, to
which they are so irrevocably committed, now shut their
mouths. It is vain for the rabid negrophilist. Dr. Horace Bush-
nell, to write a book at this date against Women's Rights as the
women's rights women. 405
"Reform against Nature." He cannot consistently oppose it;
he has himself naturalized the false principles from which that
''reform" will flow. The true principles from which its folly
might have been evinced, the principles held by us "Kebels," he
has trampled down with the armed lieel, and drowned in blood
and buried under mountains of obloquy and odium and slander.
He cannot resort to those sound premises. To meet the argu-
ment of these aspiring Amazons fairly, one must teach, with
Moses, the Apostle Paul, John Hampden, Washington, George
Mason, John C. Calhoun, and all that contemptible rabble of
"old fogies," that political society is composed of "superiors,
inferiors, and equals"; that while all these bear an equitable
moral relation to each other, they have very different natural
rights and duties; that just government is not founded on the
consent of the individuals governed, but on tlie ordinance of
God, and hence a share in the ruling franchise is not a natural
right, at all, but a privilege to be bestowed according to a wise
discretion on a limited class having qualification to use it for
the good of the whole; that the integers out of which the State
is constituted are not individuals, but families represented in
their parental heads; that every human being is born under
authority (parental and civic) instead of being born "free" in
the licentious sense that liberty is each one's privilege of doing
what he chooses; that subordination, and not that license, is the
natural state of all men; and that without such equitable dis-
tribution of different duties and rights among the classes na-
turally differing in condition, and subordination of some to oth-
ers, and of all to the law, society is as impossible as is the ex-
istence of a house without distinction between the foundation-
stone and the cap-stones. No words are needed to show hence
that should either the voice of God or of sound experience re-
quire woman to be placed for the good of the whole society in a
subordinate sphere, there can be no natural injustice in doing
so. But these old truths, with their sound and beneficent ap-
plications, have 'been scornfully repudiated by Abolitionism
and Radicalism. The North cannot, w*ill not, avow and appeal
to them, because that would be to confess that the injured Soutli
was all the time right in its opposition to Abolition; and tlic
conquerors will rather let all perish than rhus liuinl)]o Ihoir
pride to the poor conquered victims.
496 women's rights women.
It may be inferred again that tlie present movement for
women's nghts will certainly prevail from the history af its
only opponent. Northern conservatism. This is a party which
never conserves anything. Its history has been that it demurs
to each aggression of the progressive party, and aims to save
its credit by a respectable amount of growling, but always ac-
quiesces at last in the innovation. What was the resisted nov-
elty of jesterday is to-day one of the accejjted principles of con
servatism; it is now conservative only in affecting to resist the
next innovation, which will to-morrow be forced upon its timid-
ity, and will be succeeded by some third revDlution. to be de-
nounced and then adopted in its turn. American conservatism
is merely the shadow that follows Radicalism as it movers for-
ward towards perdition. It remains behind it. but never re-
tards it, and always advances near its leader. This pretended
salt hath utterly lost its savor: wherewith shall it be salted? Its
impotency is not hard, indeed, to explain. It is worthless be-
cause it is the conservatism of expediency only, and not of
sturdy principle. It intends to risk nothing serious for the sake
of the truth, and has no idea of 'being guilty of the folly of
martyrdom. It always — when about to enter a protest — ver3'
iblandily informs the wild beast whose path it essays to stoj),
that its "bark is worse than its bite," and that it only means to
save its manners by enacting its decent role of resistance. The
only practical purpose which it now subserves in American
politics is to give enough exercise to Kadicalism to keep it "in
wind," and to prevent its becoming pursy and lazy from hav-
ing nothing to whip. No doubt, after a few years, when wom-
en's suft'rage shall have become an accomplished fact, conserva-
tism will tacitly admit it into its creed, and thenceforward
plume itself upon its wise firmness in opposing with similar
weapons the extreme of baby suffrage; and when that too shall
have been won, it will be heard d-eclaring that the integrity of
the American Constitution requires at least the refusal of suff-
rage to asses. There it will assume, with great dignity, its final
jK)sition.
Indeed, as De Tocqueville predicted, innovations in the
direction of extensions of suffrage will always be successful in
America, because of the selfish timidity of her public men. It
is the nature of ultra democracy to make all its politicians time-
women's rights women. 497
servers; its natural spawn is the brood of narrow, truckling-,
cowardly worshippers of the vox populi, and of present expe-
diency. Their p3lar star is always found in the answer to the
question, "Which will be the more popular?" As soon as any
agitation of this kind goes far enough to indicate a possibility
of success, their resistance ends. Each of them begins to argue
thus in his private mind: — "The proposed revolution is of course
preposterous, but it will ibe best for me to leave opposition to
it to others. For if it succeeds, the newly enfranchised will not
fail to remember the opponents of their claim at future elec-
tions, and to reward those who were their friends in the hour
of need." Again: it lias now become a regular trick of Ameri-
can demagogues in power to manufacture new classes of voters
to sustain them in office. It is presumed that the gratitude of
the newly enfranchised will be sufficient to make them vote the
ticket of their benefactors. But as gratitude is a very flimsy
sort of fabric among Radicals, and soon worn threadbare, such
a reliance only lasts a short time, and requires to be speedily
replaced. The marvelous invention of negro suffrage (excogi-
tated for this sole purpose) sufficed to give Radicalism a new-
four 3'ears' lease of life; but the grateful allegiance of the freed-
nien to their pretended liberators is waxing very thin; and
hence the same expedient must be repeated, in the form of cre-
ating a few millions of female votes. The designing have an
active, selfish motive for pushing the measure; but its oppon-
ents will without fail be paralyzed in their resistance by their
wonted cowardice; so that success is sure.
This expectation is greatly confirmed by a review of the
history of past innovations. They have all been carried against
the 'better judgment of the class in the country to whom the
Constitution committed the power of deciding for or against
them. In 1829-183(1, tlic State of Virginia took her first de-
parture from the old princii)le of freeholders' suffrage. In 1851
she com])leted that revolution (as well as introduced sundrj^
other Radical features) by extending the right to vote indis-
criminately to all white males. In both instances it was hard
to find a freeholder, not a demagogue, who could avow a hearty
preference for the changes. They were carried against the con-
victions of the voters by the influences which have been above
described. It is most probable that the same thing was true in
498 women's rights women.
every State which adopted universal suffrage. The coercive
measures of the Federal Government were undoubtedly pre-
cipitated against the convictions of the majority of the Northern
people. So the war was transmuted into an Abolition measure
under the same circumstances. And last: negro suffrage was
undoubtedly introduced against the better judgment of nearly
all by the selfish arts of the demagogues; and as there was
neither party nor statesman that had the nerve to head the al-
most universal opposition, the decision went by default. Xor
will there be, under any future circumstances, either leader or
party that will risk the odium of a movement to take away
suffrage from the incompetent hands of the blacks, however
clearly it may appear that they are using it for the ruin of
themselves and the countr3\ Thus it is the destinj^ of the Yankee
peojDle to commit a species of political Hari-kari with its own
unwilling hands. The crowning element of despair is in the en-
forced consolidation of the Government. There are no reserved
rights of States. The mad innovation which is adopted by a
majority of them is enforced upon all; so that no place of refuge
is left in the whole land where the right principles and usages
might find sanctuary, and abide as a wholesome example and
recuperative power for reform.
What then, in the next place, will be the effect of this fun-
damental change when it shall 'be established? The obvious
answer is, that it will destroy Christianity and civilization in
America. Some who see the mischievousness of the movement
express the hope that it will, even if nominally successful, be
kept within narrow^ limits by the very force of its own absur-
dity. They "reckon without their host." There is a Satanic
ingenuity in these Kadical measures which secures the infec-
tion of the reluctant dissentients as surely as of the hot advo-
cates. The women now sensible and modest who heartily de-
-precate the whole folly, will be dragged into the vortex, with
the assent of their now indignant husbands. The instruments
of this deplorable result will be the (so-called) conservative can-
didates for office. They will effect it by this plea, that ignorant,
impudent. Radical women will vote, and vote wrong; whence
it becomes a necessity for the modest and virtuous women, for
their country's sake, to sacrifice their repugnance and counter-
poise these mischievous votes in the spirit of disinterested self-
women's rights women. 41)9
sacrifice. Now a woman can never resist an appeal to the prin-
ciple of generous devotion; her glory is to crucify herself in
the cause of duty and of zeal. This plea will be successful. But
when the virtuous have once tasted the dangerous intoxication
of political excitement and of power, even tliey will be absorb-
ed; they will learn to do con amore what was first done as a
painful duty, and all the baleful influences of i>olitical life will
be diffused throughout the sex.
What those influences >\ ill be may be learned by every one
who reverences the Christian Scriptures, from this fact, that
the theory of "Women's Kights'' is sheer infidelity. It directly
impugns the authority and the justice of these Scriptures. They
speak in na uncertain tones. "The husband is the head of the
wife" (Eph. V. 23). "Wives, submit yourselves to your own hus-
■'bands, as to the Lord" (v. 22). "The 'man is not for the woman,
but the woman for the man" (I. Cor. ii. 9). "Let the woman
learn in silence, with all subjection: but I suft'er not a woman
to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in
silence: for Adam was first formed, then Eve: and Adam was
not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the trans^
gression" (I. Tim. 2: 11-14). They are to be "discreet, chaste,
keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands," etc.
(Titus ii. 5). How utterly opposed is all this to
the levelling doctrine of your Radical. Women are
here consigned to a social subordination, and ex-
pressly excluded from ruling offices, on grounds of
their isex, and a divine ordination based by God upon a transac-
tion which happened nearly six thousand years ago! The wom-
an's sphere is expressly assigned her within her home, and she
is taught that the assumption of publicity is an outrage against
that nature with which she is endowed. Xow the politics which
denounce all this as a natural injustice and self-evident folly
cannot be expected to reverence these Scriptures; they must
and will flout their whole authority. We must then make up
our minds in accepting \\'()men's Kights to surrender our Bibles,
and have an atheistic (Jovernment. And especially must we ex-
pect to have, presiding over every home and rearing every
group of future citizens, that most abhorrent of all phenomena,
an infidel woman; for of course that sex, having received the
precious boon of their enfranchisement only by means of the
500 women's rights women
overthrow of the Bible, must be foremost in trampling upon
this their old oppressor and enemy. Its restoration to author-
ity is necessarily their "re-enslavement," to speak the language
of their party.
Second: these new excitements and temptations will utter-
ly corrupt the character and delicacy of American women. It
is indignantly asked. ''Why should politics corrupt the morals
of women more than of the 'lords of creation'?'' Suppose now
we reply: American politics have corrupted the morals of the
men? Suppose we argue that the retort is so true and just and
the result has actually gone to so deplorable an extent, that
were the female side of our social organization as corrupt as
the male side has already become, American society would
crumble into ruin by its own putrescence? It is better to save
half the fabric than to lose all. And especially is it better to
save the purity of the mothers who are, under G-od, to form the
characters of our future citizens, and of the wives who are to
restrain and elevate them, whatever else we endanger. Is it
argued that since women are now confessedly purer than men,
their entrance into politics must tend to purify politics? We
reply again that the women of the present were reared and at-
tained this comparative purity under the Bible system. Adopt
the infidel plan, and we shall corrupt our women without puri-
fying our politics. What shall save us then?
But there is another reply to this retort. Political excite-
ments will corrupt women tenfold more than men; and this, not
because women are naturally inferior to men, but because they
are naturally adapted to a wholly different sphere. When we
point to the fact that they are naturally more emotional and
less calculating, more impulsive and less self-contained, that
they have a quicker tact but less logic, that their" social nature
makes them more liable to the contagion of epidemic passions,
and that the duties of their sex make it physically impossible
for them to acquire the knowledge in a foreign sphere necessary
for political duties, we do not depreciate woman; we only say
that nature has adapted her to one thing and disqualified her for
the other. The violet would wither in that full glare of mid-
summer in which the sunflower thrives: this does not argue that
the violet is the meaner flower. The vine, left to stand alone,
would be hurled prone in the mire by the first blasts of that
history. In the case of the Amorites there was also this wise
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 501
wind which strengthens the grasp of the sturdy oak upon its
bed: still the oak m.a\ yield no fruit so precious as the clusters
of the yiue. But the yine cannat be an oak; it must "be itself,
dependent, clinging, but more precious than that on which it
leans or it must perish. When anything, animate or inanimate,
is used for a function to which it is not adapted, that foreign
use must endamage it, and the more the farther that function
is from its own sphere. So it will be found (and it is no dis-
paragement tD woman to say it) that the very traits which fit
her to be the angel of a virtuous home unfit her to meet the
agitations of political life, even as safely as does the more
rugged man. The hot glare of publicity and passion will speed-
ily deflower her delicacy and sweetness. Those temptations,
which her Malipr did not farm her to bear, will debauch her
heart, developing a character as much more repulsive than that
of the debauched man as the fall has been greater. The politi-
cating woman, unsexed and denaturalized, shorn of the true
glory of her femininity, will appear to men as a feeble hybrid
mauuikin, with all the defects and none of the strength of the
male. Instead of being the dear object of his chivalrDus affec-
tion, she becomes his importunate rival, despised without being
feared.
This suggests a third consequence, which some of the ad-
vocates of the movement even already are bold enough to fore-
shadDw. "Women's Eights"' mean the abolition of all per-
manent marriage ties. We are told that Mrs. Cady Stanton
avowed this result, proclaiming it at the invitation of the Young
Men's Christian Association of New York. She holds that
woman's bondage is not truly dissolved until the marriage bond
is annulled. She is thjroughly consistent. Some hoodwinked
advocates of her reyolution may ^be blind to the sequence; but
it is inevitable. It must follow- by this cause, if for no other,
that the unsexed politicating woman can never inspire in man
that true affection on whirli marriage should be founded. Men
will doubtless be still sensual; but it is simply impossible that
they can desire them for the pure and sacred sphere of the wife.
Let every woman ask herself: will she choose for the lord of
her affections an unsexed effeminate man? No more can man
be drawn to the masculine woman. The mutual attraction of
the two complementary halves is gone forever. The abolition
502 women's rights womex
of marriage would follow again bj another cause. The diver-
gent interests and the rival independence of the two equal wills
would be irreconcilable with domestic government, or union,
or peace. 8hall the children of this monstraus uo-union be
held responsible to two variant co-ordinate and supreme wills
at once? Heaven pity the children I Shall the two parties to
this perpetual co-partnership have neither the power to secure
the performance of the mutual duties nor ta dissolve it? It is
a self-contradiction, an impossible absurdity. Such a co-part-
nership of equals with independent interests must be separable
at will, as all other such co-partnerships are. The only rela-
tion between the sexes which will remain will be a cohabitation
continuing so long as the convenience or caprice of both par-
ties may suggest; and this, with most, will amount to a vagrant
concubinage.
But now, what will be the character of the children reared
under sucli a domestic organization as this? If human exper-
ience has established anything at all. it is the truth of that prin-
ciple announced by the Hebrew prophet when he declared that
the great aim of God in ordaining a permanent marriage tie be-
tween one man and one woman was '*that He might seek a godly
seed." (rod's ordinance, the only effective human ordinance for
checking and curbing- the first tendencies to evil, is domestic,
parental government. When the family shall no longer have a
head, and the great foundation for the subordination of chil-
dren in the mother's example is gone; when the mother shall
have found another sphere than her home for her energies;
when she shall have exchanged the sweet charities of domestic
love and sympathy for the fierce passions of the hustings; when
families shall be disrupted at the caprice of either party, and
the children scattered as foundlings from their hearthstone,—
it requires no wisdom to see that a race of sous will be reared
nearer akin to devils than to men. In the hands of such a ba:s-
tard progeny, without discipline, without homes, without a
Ood, the last remains of social order will speedily perish, and
society will be overwhelmed in savage anarchy.
Last: it would not be hard to show, did space permit, that
this movement on the part of these women is as suicidal as it
is mischievous. Its certain result will be the re-enslavement of
women, not under the Scriptural bonds of marriage, but under
women's rights women. 508
the yoke of literal corporeal force. The woman who will calm-
ly review tlic coudition of her sex in other ages and countries
will feel that her wisdom is to "let well enough alone." Physi-
cally, the female is the "weaker vessel." This world is a hard
and selfish scene where the weaker goes to the wall. Under all
other civilizations and all other religions than ours woman has
experienced this fate to the full; her condition has been that of
a slave to the male — sometimes a petted slave. <but yet a slave.
In Christian and European society alone has she ever attained
the place of man's social equal, and received the homage and
honor due from magnanimity to her sex and her feebleness.
And her enviable lot among us has resulted from two causes:
the Christian religion and the legislation founded upon it by
feudal chivalry. How insane then is it for her to spurn these
two bulwarks of defense, to defy and repudiate the divine au-
thority of that Bible which has been her redemption, and to
revolutionize the whole spirit of the English common law
touching woman's sphere and rights? f^he is thus spurning the
only protectors her sex has ever found, and provoking a con-
test in which she must inevitably be overwhelmed. Casting
away that dependence and femininity which are her true
strength, the "strong-minded woman" persists in thrusting her-
self into competition with man as his equal. But for contest
she is not his equal; the male is the stronger animal. As man's
rival, she is a pitiful inferior, a sorry she-mannikin. It is when
she brings her wealth of affection, her self-devotion, her sympa-
thy, her tact, her grace, her sirbtle intuition, her attractions, her
appealing weakness, and i)laces them in the scale with man's
rugged strengtli and ])l()dding endurance, with his steady log-
ic, his hardihood and nuT^cle. and his exemption from the dis-
abling infirmities of her sex, that he delights to admit her full
equality and to do glad homage to her as the crown of his kind.
All this vantage-ground the "Women's Rights women" madly
throw away, and provoke that collision for which nature itself
has disqualified them. They insist upon taking precisely a man's
chances; well, they will meet precisely the fate of a weak man
among strong ones. A recent incident on a railroad train justly
illustrates the result. A solitary female entered a car where
every seat was occupied, and the conductor closed the door upon
her and departed. She looked in vain for a seat, and at last
o04 women's rights womkn.
appealed to au elderly man near her to know if lie would not
■'siuTeuder his seat to a lady.'" He. it seems, was somewhat a
humorist, and answered: "I will surrender it cheerfully. Mad-
am, as I always do, but will beg leave tirst to ask a civil ques-
tion. Are you au advocate of the modern theory of women's
rights?" Bridling up with intense energj^ she replied, "Yes,
sir, emphatically: I let you know that it is my glory to be de-
voted to that noble cause."" "Very well. Madam." said he,
''then the case is altered: You may stand up like the rest of us
men, until you cafi get a seat for yourself. "* This was exa(it
poetic justice; and it foreshadows precisely the fate of their un-
natural pretensions. Men will treat them as they treat each
other; it will be "every man for himself, and the devil take the
hindmost."" There will be of course a Semiramis or a Queen
Bess here and there who will h )ld her own; but the general rule
will be that the "weaker vessels" will succumb; and the so-
ciety which will emerge from this experiment will present w^om-
an in the ])osiii(»n which she has always held among savages,
that of domestic drudge to the stronger animal. Instead of be-
ing what the Bible makes her, one with her husband, queen of
his home, reigning with the gentle sceptre of love over her mod-
est, secluded domain, and in its pure and sacred retirement per-
forming the noblest work done on this earth, that of moulding
infant minds to honor and piety, she will reappear from this
ill-starred competition defeated and despised, tolerated only to
satiate the passion, to amuse the idleness, to do the drudgery,
and to receive the curses and blows of her barbarized masters.
Thus will be consummated that destiny to which so many
gloomy prognostics point as the allotment of the North Ameri-
can continent: to be the accursed field for the final illustration
of the harvest of perdition, grown from the seeding of the drag-
on's teeth of infidel Radicalism. God gave the people of this
land great and magnificent ''blessings, and opportunities and re-
sponsibilities. They might and should have made it the glory
of all lands. But they have betrayed their trust: they have
abused every gift: above all have they insulted him by flaunt-
ing in his face an impudent, atheistic. Ciod-defying theory of
pretended human rights and human perfectibility whioh at-
tempts to deny man's subordination, his dependence, his fall and
native depravity, his need of divine grace. It invites mankind
WOMEN^'S RIGHTS WOMEN. 505
to adopt material civilizatiDii and sensual advantage as their
divinity. It assumes to be able to perfect man's condition by
its political, literary, and mechanical skill, despising that Gos-
pel of Christ which is man's only adequate remedy. It crowns
its impiety by laying its defiling hands upon the very forms of
that Christianity, while with the mock affection of a Judas it
attempts to make it a captive to the sordid ends of Mammon and
sense. Must not God be avenged on such a nation as this? His
vengeance will be to give them the fruit of their own hands, and
let them be filled with their own devices. He will set apart this
fair land by a sort of dread consecration to the purpose of giving
a lesson concerning this gDdless philosophy, so impressive as to
instruct and warn all future generations. As the dull and pes-
tilential waves of the Dead Sea have been to every subsequent
age the memento of the sin of Sodom, so the dreary tides of an-
archy and barbarism which will overwhelm the boastful devices
of infidel democracy will be the caution of all future legislators.
And thus "women's rights" will assist America "to fulfil her
great mission." that of being the "scarecrow'' of the nations.
THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
A REPLY TO INGERSOLL'S POSITIONS.
The phase of infidelity most current among thase who do
not profes.s to accept the gospel is marked by two qualities: It
is aggressive, and it is extreme. It refuses to stop short of that
last result, blank atheism, or, at least, blank agnosticism, from
which even the skepticism of previous ages recoiled with ab-
h3rrence. This ultraism of the present adversaries is in one re-
spect verj' shocking; but in another" it is promising. They are
practically teaching the world that conclusion, on wMch James
Mills justified his atheism, that when once a man's sense re-
jects the gospel theory, he finds no stopping place between that
rejection and atheism; because, as Bishoj) Butler has forever
established, every difficulty which besets the old gospel plan
equally embarrasses the deistic plan. This disclosure is use-
ful. Our atheists are teaching people that there is no decent
middle ground for them to stand on; but the voice of nature
and conscience never permits decent people to stand long on the
ground of atheism. Tliis outrages both head and heart too
horribh'. Were a sjn to insist, contrary to sufficient evidence
of the fact, upon denying and discarding the ver^' existence of
his father, we see plainly enough how his position involves ev-
ery phase of filial transgression, because it involves the abso-
lute neglect of every filial duty. The position may involve, in
the form af a sin of omission, the crime of parricide. The athe-
ist discards the very existence of his heavenly Father; so, un-
less he has justified his denial by sound evidence, he includes in
that act every sin of impiety. We see here the simple reason
why the good sense of mankind has always regarded atheism
with moral abhorrence. But this is the creed which tlu^ assail-
ants of our day prefer to urge upon us, and that with boundless
506
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 507
audacity. Colonel Robert Ingersoll seems to be the leader who
holds this "bad eminence" amidst this host; he seems ambitious
of a large share of this dreadful responsibility. This fact justi-
fies my occasional reference to his name as representing the
code of opinions I ^propose to discuss.
His various essays and speeches — especially his recent large
essay in the North American Revieiu — aupear to build his op-
position to Christianity upon four grounds: One is composed
of specific objections to points in Bible history and precept,
which, he intimates, intuitively appear to him imm jral. An-
other is his assertion of moral irresponsibility for opinions even
upon ethical subjects. This lie claims for himself, and of course
for everybody else, as the only adequate basis for freedom of
thought, which we all regard as an inalienable right. A third
ground is his total denial of all punitive aspect and quality in
the evil consequences of free human actions. He absolutely de-
nies the element of rewards and punishments in the experienced
course of human existence. He says that the evils which fol-
low the mistakes of our free agency are nothing but natural
consequences, following from the natural laws of the universe,
which are necessary and invariable; so that these experiences
give no evidence whatever of a moral providence over men. His
fourth and chief ground is the old cavil, how God, if there were
a God, could even permissively ordain natural and moral evil in
his kingdom.
I. The first class of assaults I propose to follow to a verv
short distance. They could be all di-sposed of by pointing to the
dense ignorance of their authors CDucerning the Bible, its real
facts and its real doctrines. They are such criticisms as their
authors would never have made had they read their Bibles with
attention and candor. They arc all absolutely exploded by sim-
ple explanations which the teachers of the church have been
accustomed for generations to give even to the children of their
Bible classes. It wauld be wearisome and useless to go over all
of this thorouglily-trodden ground. One or two i)oiuts will serve
for illustration. In general I would only remark, that it would
be well for the critics to get some little knowledge of the Chris-
tian literature before exposing themselves in a way both ludi-
crous and pitiable, by attacking subjects about which they have
been too proud to learn anything.
508 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
For instance, we are hotl}- told by one that Joshua must
have been a very wicked man, because he not only punished
Aclian capitally for disobeyin«i,- a police regulation, but mur-
dered his wife and children along with him. But the old testa-
ment makes Joshua a very pious hero; wherefore it also is a
very wicked and fjolish book. The simple and sufficient reply
is, that the execution of Achan's family was none of Joshua's
doings. He had no more discretion about it than about Noah's
tiood. (lod was the agent, and Joshua his merely involuntary
instrument. So that the moral question in the given case re-
solves itself into this: Has Almighty God a right to punish a
contumacious and immoral family of his creatures with death
for a special wise end, death being the final just penalty of all
sin? No man, after provisionally admitting the condition of
this question, even for argument's sake, is silly enough to as-
sert that, if there is such a God, such retribution from him
would be necessarily unjust. Or. do they reinforce their cavil
by saying tliere is no evidence that Achan's wife and children
were accomplices in his theft? The simple reply is, that un-
doubtedly God knew them to be a bad family, worthy on gen-
eral grounds of his eternal displeasure. For the principle of
imputatian on which this case proceeds is that God righteous-
ly imputes part of the guilt of wicked parents to children, but
only to wicked children.* So that we are certain the family
also was vicious and disobedient. Had God punished them
some years after with death, or rheumatism, or cholera, nobody
who admits that there is a God, would have dreamed of im-
pugning the justice of that providential dispensation. Who,
then, can blame the Sovereign Judge if, for the sake of an im-
portant and wise object, he anticipated the deserved punish-
ment and connected it with that of the criminal head of the
family? But I also deny the asserted ground of the cavil, that
persons were punished along with Achan who, hov.ever other-
wise sinful, were innocent of his particular breach of military
orders. No doubt they were implicated- Avith him by receiving
and concealing the plunder. The receiver is as bad as the thief.
If there were infants in the family, death removed them to the
bliss of heaven.
*Ex.xx. 5; Ezek. xviii.
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 500
Or, they object to Joshua's iiivasioii of Palestine, and
charge that his war of extermination there showed him no bet-
ter than a land pirate and a murderer; and that, as the O^d
Testament represents God as sanctioning these horrors, they
feel intuitively it is a very wicked book. I reply, that here a
very large sophism is foisted in under a very small jugglery of
words. This shallow little trick consists in the phrase "God
sanctioned,'' instead of "God ordained." Thus it injects into
the mind this conception of tiie transaction: that after Joshua,
a human sinner, who had no right to dispoise of other people's
property and lives, had conceived his murderous project, God
granted it his approval. Of course that would be exceedingly
ugly. But the actual fact is that Joshua never conceived the
plan at all. The war of extermination against the Amorites
was no plan of Joshua's. There is not a particle of proof that he
ever thought he as a mere man had any right to dispose of
other people's property and lives. The plan of extermination
was God's alone. He dictated it to Joshua. And again we say
this general had no more discretion about it than he had about
God's Infliction of the deluge. God's jjurpose employed Joshua
as a mere executioner; and if the Sovereign Judge had a right
to pass the decree, it is nonsense to blame the mere servant who
was compelled to execute it. The logic of this accusation is
just as silly as that of a man who, after admitting the right-
eousness of the laws of New York, should call Mr. Cleveland
a murderer, because when he was sheriff at Buffalo he hung
some convicted assassins. Now, then, the only question in-
volved in this piece of history is, whether Almighty God has the
right to punish a tribe of his own creatures, whose iniquity was
now full, with the death penalty. We can get a pretty accu-
rate conception of what the morals of these gross idolaters had
become. Their habits, like those of other advanced idolaters,
were doubtless defiled by every vile excess of lust, avarice,
cruelty, unnatural affections, human sacrifice, infanticide. If
God has any title at all to judge the world in righteousness, he
certainly had a right to rid the world of this plague spot in his
own way. He had adopted another instrumentality to burn out
a similar plague-spot, Sodom, and he was justified for that by
Jesus, by the apostles, and every honest man that ever read the
510 THE LATEST INFIDFLTTY.
administrative reason for God's dealing: that he was planning
to preserve a pure religion and morality in Israel, which re-
(luired their effectual protection from the contamination of this
pagan example.
Third, 'Colonel Ingersoll himself has been in the haibit of
attacking the Bible passionately, because he found that, when
candidly explained, it countenanced slavery — the Old Testa-
ment actually ordaining it, and the New Testament allowing it.
But inasmuch as slavery appears very abominable to his moral
intuitions, this compels him to regard them as wicked books.
Here, again, the critic's whole difficulty arises out of a sheer
misconception. Let me ask him what that thing is which ap-
pears so evil; he defines it substantially thus: the usurpation
by a stronger individual at his own violent will over tlie being
of 'his weaker fellow-man, whereby the victim is reduced from
a human personality, with a moral responsibility and destiny,
to a mere chattel, a brute possession, whose labor, happiness
and very existence may then be exhausted by the usurper for
his own selfish behoof. I am happy to be able to console the
critic by assuring him, first, that everybody else would abhor
such a relation just as he does; and, second, that the two Testa-
ments, instead of ordaining or allowing it, even adjudged it
just as he and I do. And here is the triumphant proof that this
very conception of the usurpation which Colonel Ingersoll er-
roneously supposes to be the conception of slavery, is precisely
the crime which both Testaments condemn. (As in N. T. the
act of the andrapoaistes, and in O. T. nogebh is/i') The Bible
abhorred it so much that whilst Moses made only a few crimes
capital he made this one of them; and the New Testament usual-
ly recites it along with the enormous wickednesses that incur
the damnation of hell. What, then, was that relation of human
bondage which Closes ordained and the apostles allowed? Not
the usurpation of a personal will over a fellow-creature, not the
reduction of the bondman from a responsible human person to
a chattel (which injustice is nowhere countenanced or excused
by Holy Scripture, or by any modern Christian that ever I
heard of), but it was wholly another thing, to-wit: the regular
institution, by the legislatiA^e sovereignty of the commonwealth,
of a personal and domestic authority for life over the involun
tary labor of the bondman, who was deemed by the law unfitted
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 511
for his awn safe control, in tlie hands of a citizen supposed by
the law to be more competent, and this authority to be exer-
cis:ed 'by the master under the restraints of statute law. which
also treated the bondman as a responsible agent, and guaran-
teed to him his life, limbs and subsistence against the aggression
even of his master. Xow, it is apparent that he would be a very
bold man who would undertake to argue that this relation is
essentially unjust, and the code which established ir under any
possible circumstances a wicked one. When arguing thus he
would have to attack the righteousness of the parental author-
ity over minors, and indeed every form of governmental re-
straint of magistrates over individuals uat grounded in convic-
tion of crime.
I have shown in these three specimens how completely
they are exploded by a little tincture of Bible knowledge and
common sense. I assert that all the other objections of this class
can be shown to be equally worthless, but they are too numerous
and trivial to detain the reader.
II. The second general ground for rejecting Christianity is
the doctrine so dear to skeptics, that no man is morally respon-
sible for any of the opinions which he sincerely holds. They
assert that this position is the only basis for true intellectual
freedom. They argue from it that our charge of sinfulness, or
possibly impiety, or even our manifestation of moral disappro-
val against their most extreme speculations, is unjust, and is
of the nature of wicked persecution of the free-thinkers. They
also argue that the Christian system is absurd, in that it makes
faith its cardinal condition for enjoying God's favor, inasmuch
as no man's faith has any moral character, and cannot be a
subject of moral responsibility, or approval or disapproval.
Colonel Ingersoll is certain that to whatever extremes of athe-
ism, or even of what appears to other people blasphemy, he
is really led (not feignedly) by his thinking, he is as innocent
therein as a man is for the color of his hair or the height of
his stature. And here is his proof: that if the evidence appears
before the mind, intellectual credence is purely involuntary, be-
ing the logical result of the evidence, and metaphysically neces-
sitated; that such credence is exclusively the result. of intel-
lectual activities of the mind, with which neither emotion nor
will has anything to do; that our responsibility is limited to
512 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
those acts of the spirit which have a voluntary source. So, he
thinks, it would be as unjust to blame him for his atheistic con-
clusions to w'hicli his thought has led him, as to blame a man for
being wet when he has been thrown into the water.
If he were not extremely ignorant of jjliilos )phy and theol-
ogy he would be aware that this is but the old sophism in psy-
chology, which has been a thousand times refuted. When we
hear Colonel Ingersoll assert that his anri-('lirisrian convic-
tions are the fruit of his pure intellection, without any. element
of emotion or will, we picture to ourselves the huge laughter
of his own votaries at so vast and obvious an irony; for their
own eyes and ears tell them that his agnosticism is all passion.
What means that labored torrent of fiery and vindictive elo-
quence with which he assails the theologians and the Bible?
Do not his auditors hear him ascribe his opposition to the Scrip-
tures in part to his passionate abhorrence of slavery? Do they
not see hatred of Christianity and its restraints blazing amidst
the whole frame-work of his pretended logic? His unbelief
pure passionless intellection indeed I Why, he is incarnate pas-
sion! It is supremely ludicrous 1 And we surmise that every
applauder of his atheism who does any thinking is conscious
of this; every one sees that there is really no logic at all in this
agnostic eloquence, but it is all feeling, and it is acceptable
simply because it harmonizes with the conscious hatred of his
hearers against the holiness of the Bible and its restraints on
their proud self-will. We have only to remember that the ob-
ject of every moral judgment is a moral object which unavoid-
ably engages and interests the disposition, affections and will
of every rational moral agent, and all who can reason see that
no moral conclusion can be a pure intellection, but that some
voluntary element must enter for good or for evil into the
sources of every such judgment. Xo man on earth reasons
towards objects which he either likes or dislikes strongly, with
the same complete intellectual impartiality with which he rea-
sons about pure mathematics. If he claims that he does, it is
because "a deceived heart hath turned him aside."" This is the
analysis of common sense. This is the philosophy on which ev-
ery sensible man in the world accounts for the multitude of
these familiar facts, to-wit: that all people, while agreeing per-
fectly upon the truths of mathematics and numbers, differ more
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 513
or less upon questions of property rights, law-siiits, character,
politics, medicine, and religion. It is because all these objects
of thought involve elements which appeal to the feelings and
the will. Now the false argument itself concedes that where a
voluntary element is involved in the sources of any spiritual
action, it is to that extent responsible. This is all I claim. Here
is a man who has reached true conclusions on moral subjects.
He is virtuous and approvable for them just to the extent to
which a right heart has co-operated in his reaching them. Here
is another man w^ho holds erroneous opinions on a moral sub-
ject, and he is responsible and blamable therefor just to the ex-
tent in which a proud and evil heart has helped to bring them
about.
So absurd is Colonel Ingersoll's position that lie clearl}^ dis-
closes the fact that he does not believe it himself. He claims
not to be responsible or blamable for his anti-religious conclu-
sions; then, of course, all the rest of us should be equally irre-
sponsible for our conclusions held with similar honesty. Now
here is a man whose thinking has honestly led him to this con-
clusion, which he really believes from the bottom of his heart
he has fairly reached, to-wit: that Colonel Ingersoll's agnosti-
cism is erroneous, that it is morally blamable, that he is conse-
quently responsible for it (not indeed to man, but to his God,
and this is the vital distinction which guarantees to all of us
all the mental and religious liberty to which we are entitled),
and consequently that the reproaches suggested by this evil
creed which he hurls against his (lod, and his fatal misleadin"-
of his immortal fellow-men, are extremely sinful. Now, does
Colonel Ingersoll view this honest conviction of mine with any
of that philosophic nonchalance which he requires me to use
towards his? Not he! He blames me for it extremely, as un-
just to him, as tyrannical, tending towards the wickedness of
persecution for opinion's sake. He fulminates his indignant
rhetoric against the wrong I am doing him. He fills the atmos-
phere with his complaints of me. Now this excites our huge
laughter. The unbeliever himself demonstrates the absurdity
of his own position, and refuses to stand on it at the first change
of the case. So he teaches us he does not believe his own phil-
osophy.
It is in fact impossible to be believed by anybody, because
514 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
it involves us in absolute contradictions. If honesty in error
were all that is needed to hold us innocent, truth would have
no practical value above that of error. But truth has its eternal
intrinsic value. Again, our decisive conclusions according to
the necessary laws of our spirits direct us in our actions. It
is proper that they should, or otherwise our actions might al-
ways be irrational, aimless, and worthless. Now if we allow
the man to lutld himself irresponsible for his moral opinions,
of course we must hold him irresponsible for all the actions
which they logically direct. After you have justified the tree
in being the species of fruit-tree it is. you cannot blame it for
bearing that species of fruit. So that this philosophy requires
us to justify some of the most mischievous and abominable
crimes that are done on earth. Let us see again whither it car-
ries its advocate. Colonel Ingersoll knows that the slave-hold-
ers were g:euerally sincere in their belief of their right; there-
fore he would have to justify the slavery he so abhors. He
knows that Messrs. Davis, Lee and Jackson were perfectly sin-
cere in their convictions; so he must justify them in all those
blows at "the life of the nation" which his patriotism abhors.
Supposing the magistrates of the old-fashioned State of Dela-
ware, honest and sincere in the advocacy of that antiquated stat-
ute which, we are told, still makes atheistic utterances a mis-
demeanor punishable at the whippingpost, and supposing the
gallant Colonel's zeal for his truth to have led him to that
Pauline grade of heroism which makes men glory in stripes for
the truth's sake, his philosophy would require hiiu to justify
those magistrates, even at the moment the constable's scourge
was descending on his back. But would it'? We trow not.
Again he provokes the inextinguishable laughter of the on-
lookers. His theory of free thought is "unworkable."
Again, the position leads to a consequence yet worse. It
is entirely possible that two sincere reasoners may reach op-
posite conclusions concerning the same moral object. If each
is irresponsible and innocent in his conclusion, he must be
equally so in the action to which it directs him. So our phil-
osopher has on his hands this strange case: A has a logical
right to execute an action touching the disputed object, which
B, the other party, has an equally logical and moral right to re-
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 5l5
sist as a wrong to himself I 'The force of nature could no fur-
ther go."
In conclusion of this head, we remind the "free-thinkers'"
(whom the above argument proves to be not free-thinkers, but
crazy-thinkers), that their doctrine is refuted by every analogy
of nature and every experimental fact of their own observation.
The natural laws which regulate the results of our free actions
invariably h )ld us responsible for our erroneous opinions. When
we make honest mistakes as to the stare of facts, nature makes
no allowance for us, but inexorably holds us to the results of
the real facts. The youth who goes sailing in a rotten boar,
really supposing it to be sound, gets his ducking just the same.
The farmer who exposes his grain, honestly thinking the fair
weather will hold, if he proves mistaken in the weather, has
his grain mildewed just as though he had wilfully neglected it.
The sick man who swallows three grains of morphia, really sup-
posing it to be quinine, dies just as the iutentianal suicide. But
why multiply instances? We thus see universal nature repu-
diates this shallow philosophy. And so we rerurn to our cou-
clusion, that men are and ought to be responsible for their mor-
al opinions; that the psychological reason why, is this: erron-
eous moral opinions cannor be adopred by rhe rarional crearure
except there be some voluntary element at work amidst these
sources of the wrong judgment; and to this voluntary element
blame justly attaches; that, therefore, men are justly held re-
sponsible for their wrong actions, though logically dictated by
their own opinions; that all penal responsibility for wrong
opinions is reserved to God alone, and is never to be usurped
by human beings unless those opinions be embodied in crim-
inal actions; that the resistance of the errorist's fellow-men
must be limited to disapprobation and argumentative refuta-
tion; and thus the truth is established without opening the door
to the hateful doctrine of penal persecution for opinion's sake.
III. The third ground of objection, as given above, is his
total denial of all punitive aspect and quality in the evil conse-
quences of free human actions. He absolutely denies the ele-
ment of rewards and punishments in the experienced course of
human existence. He says that the evils which follow the mis-
takes of our free agency are nothing but natural consequences,
following from the natural laws of the universe, which are
5l6 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
necessary and invariable; so that these experiences give no evi-
dence whatever of a moral providence over men. Colonel In-
gersoll roundly asserts that in the course of nature and ex-
perience there are no punishments, but only natural consequen-
ces. He also admits that the laws which dispense these conse-
quences are invariable. The only possible method b}' which
evil can be averted is to reform the mistakes which incurred
it. The object of this strange doctrine is manifestly to escape
that argument for the being and the moral providence of a God.
which is written so plainly all over human events. We have
two points here: First, his denial is abortive. Had he read, or
read dispassionateh, the second chapter of Part I. in Bishop
Butler's Analogy, he would never have written those para-
graphs in which he stated his doctrine. Bishop Butler sliows
by arguments which no man can refute, that the happy conse-
quences of good conduct are of the nature of rewards, and evil
consequences of misconduct have every trait and characteristic
of true penalties, even down to the most minute; that this gen-
eral law of nature is therefore a moral law as well as a natural
one; that it is a disclosure of a righteous personal will above
nature, and that it holds men under a moral probation for their
conduct. And since this is universally true of man's moral es-
tate, as soon as we learn his continued rational existence after
death, the utmost probability arises, that we must meet the con-
sequences of our probation in a future world as well as the
present. All this follows without the light of Scripture. It is
scarcely necessary to weary the reader by repeating the points
of that masterly argument. It is a shame for any educated man,
especially an English-speaking man, to handle this doctrine
without informing himiseif of Bishop Butler's argument. No
man who ever informs himself candidly of it will ever dispute
its conclusions. I will, only for confirmation, make these two
remarks: Every suffering transgressor in the w^orld intuitively
recognizes in his own consciousness the conceptions of guilt and
punishment as soon as he recognizes the causal connection be-
tween his own error and the natural evil consequences. Let any
such case be taken at random. Let it be, for instance, the case of
a man who, by sensual excesses in the use of stimulants (alco-
hol, opium, tobacco), has ruined his digestion. His reason has
admitted this proposition — that his own excesses have caused
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 517
his own suft'ei-ings. Has there ever been such a man in the
woild wh3se consciousness contained only the ph^'sical feelings
of pain, nausea, lassitude, and so-forth. and the self-calculated
personal feelings of fear, sorrow, and so-forth? Is this all that
is in his consciousness? Never. There is always the additional
element of self-blame. There is always self-reproach for hav-
ing done what he ought not. The man knows intuitively that
he has been guilty in the case, and not merely mistaken; and
that these sufferings are penal, and not merely painful. Men
not seldom incur seA'ere physical sufferings in the magnanimous
performance of duties, as, for instance, the faithful fireman who
is burnt in rescuing human life. Xow the burn hurts him just
as badly as the drunkard's gastritis hurts him; but is it possi-
ble for the consciousness of these two men under the suffer-
ings to be the same? Never. This brave, honest man suffers,
but cannot reproach himself. This guilty sensualist also suffers,
and is compelled to reproach himself. According to Colonel
Ingersoll's theory, the two men ought to have the same con-
sciousness. Such ftest-cases show that the human mind intui-
tively, and necessarily, recagnizes those very moral elements of
blameworthiness and punishment which are so rashly denied.
My other remark is, that all men, when sipectators of the na-
tural penalties of transgression, intuitively recognize the penal
relation. What they say is always something like this: **We
are sorry for him. but it serves him right"; or, "Well, the fellow
has got what he deserves." Now, what does the common sense
of mankind mean by these words ''right," ''desert?" We thus
see that the world is against that doctrine. Colonel lugersoll
is a lawyer. We would request him to attempt an explanation
upon his philosophy of the penalties which civil S3ciety visits
uiton secular crimes. If there is any logic in his composition,
a half-hour's meditation on that problem will convince liim that
his philosophy lands him in a Serbonian bog. For instance,
would the conscience of mankind have universally justified
such inflictions by civil society if it had not been instructed and
supported by the analogy of these penalties of nature? Is not
civil society itself one of the inevitable results of this constitu-
tion of human nature? Yes. ilust it not follow, then, that the
evils which civil society visits on secular crimes are also na-
tural consequences of these natural laws, as truly so as the
51 <S THE LATEST INFIDELITY
drimkard's gastritis? But tliose are avowedly penal. Once
more, Colonel Inoersoll on liis theory would have to explain the
imprisonment whicli he visits on a felon, as precisely parallel
to the detention in a (luarantine shi]* of a virtuous citizen who
has just liad the had luck to sail i-eeently from a yellow-fever
port. Are tlu^ two iuHictions piecisely the same expediences
for the j)ul)lir good. (M}ually unfounded on an im])utation of
guilt to the sufferers? That is tlie explanation t;> which his
philosophy would lead him; bur he dare not accept it. He
knows that the virtuous ti'aveler is detained in spite of his in-
nocence; but the felon is detained because of his guilt. He
who says that the natural evils incui-red by misconduct are not
penalties, but mere consequences, ought also t ) say that evils
which society, itself a natural institution, inflicts on criminals
are al&o mere consequences, and not just penalties. liut against
this every conscience revolts.
Our second point of objection is: tliat Oolonel IngersolTs
doctrine a'bout natural evils, if true, would be unspeakably
harsher and moi'c it^ipulsive than tlie ( 'liristian doctrine, wliich
lie thinks too harsh to be endured. For, flrst, it places us er-
ring mortals not under the dominion of a righteous personal
will, which is also wise, benevolent, and merciful, but under the
rule of invariable natural laws. Under these, the evils which
men experience, saith lie, are not penalties, but mere conse-
quences. Niow a cade wliicli has no penalties of course has no
pardons. There is no room in it for the conception of forgive-
ness. It tells a suffering transgressor tliat. when once his mis-
take is made, his suffering must be as inevitable as the attrac-
tion of gravitation or the rotation ;)f the earth. Can mere na-
tural law hear a prayer? Does it understand repentance? Can
it feel pity? Ask the ocean storm or the devouring fire these
questions. Here truly we have humanity with a vengeance I
The skeptic is too humane to endure the concei:)tion of penal
chastisement directed by a personal (lod, who is botli just and
merciful; and to help matters, he proposes lo consign his fellow-
creatures to the iron and remorseless dominion of natural law,
which is equally ignorant of repentanc(\ mercy, and forgive-
ness. But, he says, let the erring man reform his mistake, and
thereby he will emerge from the painful conse<iuences. Is this
true? Does he not know that the constant tendency of natural
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 519
evil is to proceed to the irreparable stage? This drunkard's
gastritis, for instance, even if he reforms early, is only palliat-
ed, not wholly eradicated. At best he goes the rest of his life
a crippled man, and death, the supreme natural evil, falls upon
him at last; but in a multitude of instances the gastritis retains
its virulence in spite of the reform. For all these innumerable
sufferers the skeptic has only a gospel of despair. ITe tells his
fellQW, "You are in the clutches of inexorable physical law;
you have transgressed it; you perish."
Next, it is impossible for Colonel Ingersoll to rid either him-
self or his fellow-creatures of the sentiment of moral desert in
their conduct. It is at once the deepest and the keenest of hu-
man sentiments. There is no craving of the human sduI so pro-
found as the demand for justice to its merits, and a righting
for the wrongs done to it. There is no anguish so keen, so in-
consolable, as that inflicted by their refusal. Now the skeptic's
theory proiposes to take these moral creatures, with these ex-
quisite sensibilities, and subject them to a system of laws which
neither knows nor cares anything about moral deserts. Which
is about as humane as to consign the feeding, nursing, and con-
solation of all the orphan, the sick, and the sorrowing children
in the world to a huge steam engine. For our part, we would
rather leave our orphans to an all-wise parent, who would whip
them well when they deserved it, but who could also hear their
prayers, understand their penitence, and forgive their way-
wardness.
Once more, onr skeptic confesses that he cannot tell us
whether we shall ]iv(' beyond bodily death or not. Then, for
all he knows, we may. And if we do, it follows of course from
his theory, that we must pass our immortal existence also un-
der this blind natural code of laws, which, knowing nothing of
penalties, can know nothing of pardons. When we observe the
system of nature, as exjiounded by him, the clearest and most
ominous feature about it is, that these evil consequences of
human error aie continually tending to pass, under our own
eyes, into the irreparable. The longer the career of error is con-
tinued, the more certainly is this result reached. Thus the only
inference from his scheme of naturalism is this, that if we
should not have the luck to die like the pig or the dog, we
must face the violent probability, that these "mere consequen-
520 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
ces" of liumau error will, in everv case, become irreparable and
eternal. And this is the sort of comfort gravely offered to his
sinning and sorrowing fellow-men, by one wlio professes to be
too humane and tender-hearted to endure the Christian sys-
tem, with its divine equities, and divinely wrought grace and
pardon, offered to the whole world without money and without
price.
IX. But the chief ground of objection whic-h seems to pre-
vail with the modern impugners of Christianity is the old one
of God's permission of evil in his kingdom. It is as old as hu-
man literature, having been discussed by Job, by the Psalmist,
by the Greek philosophers, by Seneca, and l)y a multitude of
divines of subsequent ages. The theodicy, or vindication, of
God from this cavil, makes a part of almost every book on na-
tural theology, and has engaged the greatest intellects of the
world — as a Leibnitz, a Chalmers. Of course I profess to ad-
vance nothing new. Neither is there need of doing it; for the
recent school of cavillers advance nothing which has not 'been
l)ondered and rejected a thousand tiuu^s before. And they dif-
fer from the more thoughtful and decent skeptics of previous
days only in the superficiality and insolence of their objec-
tions. l>ut I will use in dealing with them a candor they do not
employ in oppo.sing us. I will state the ditticulties which at-
tend (jod's jiermission of evil frankly, and with all the force
which even the ablest objector can claim for them.
The theistic scheme professes to demonstrate the existence,
attributes, and providence of God. It says that he is self-exist-
ent and the creator of all temporal beings; that he is absolutely
supreme in authority; that he is of infinite knowledge and pow-
er; that he is perfectly holy, and must therefore prefer holi-
ness to sin in all rational creatures; and that he is infinitely
benevolent as well as just. The argument is, that it is incredi-
ble such a divine sovereign should freely choose the prevalence
of evil in the kingdom which he made and absolutely governs,
and-.especially that dreadful aggregate of remediless evil em-
bodied in his hell. But if he is incapable of freely choosing
such horrors they should have no ])lace in his kingdom; since
his knowledge and prescience are infinite, and his will effica-
cious and sovereign in his whole providence. Amidst this cir-
ple of attributes, it is urged, it ought to be impossible that hell
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 521
should find a place, not to speak of the lesser evils of our mor-
tal state. The Christian apologists have been wont to offer
these jjalliations: That while all these are real evils, and so
repugnant in themselves to the divine nature, we actually see
them made in his providence the occasions of excellent results
and beautiful virtues. Evil evokes the virtue of fortitude, which
would be 3ther\vise not energized. Evil trains the soul to pa-
tience, submission, and heavenly-mindedness. Suffering is
necessary to evoke the lovely virtue of sympathy. Hence we
may hold that a benevolent God permissively ordains the evil,
not for its own sake, but for the sake of those results which it
occasions. This palliation our oppugners sweep aside with dis-
dain. They say if your God is omnipotent, he is certainly able
to W'ork all these admirable results by painless means. If he is
benevolent, as you say. he must have chosen the easy means
instead of the bitter, because he would thus have realized the
whole aggregate of good and virtue for liis kingd3m. minus the
miseries of the present plan. They confirm this point by re-
minding the Christians that, according to them, there actually
is a splendid order of moral creatures for whom God has done
this yerj thing. The virtue and bliss of Gabriel are certainly
not inferior to those promised redeemed men; for their ^proto-
type ^'was made a little bwer than the angels." And the ut-
most tlie Christian's Jesus dares to promise is that his re-
deemed shall be as angelloi. Here, then, they urge, is a whole
world of hapi>y and holy creatures, endowed with every de-
sirable virtue, including sympathy and fortitude, and yet with-
out any disiipline of evil. Here. then. God has actually done
the thing for them without the permission of evil; why djes
he not do the same thing for human creatures in the same way?
Thus the caviller ''refuses to be comforted" by any such i»al-
liation as this. Let us pause here and weigh this rejtly care-
fully. To what extent does it really damage the theodicy ad-
vanced? I candidly admit, that it does prove this class of jkiI-
liations to be insufficient as a full solution of the difficulty.
But I assert that the skeptic's position here is overweening and
sophistical in this: when he so ingeniously cites to us the fact
that God does cultivate in the elect angels, as free agents, a
complete bliss and purity without the discipline of evil, he cun-
ningly begs the question, whether God could succeed in this,
522 THE LATEST IISTFIDELITY.
not only without evil among tliem, but without evil anj'where
in the universe. What mortal can certainly know but that one
of the means whic-h God found necessary in the training of the
elect angels, was some Avholesome example of sutferiug for sin
among some other order af free agents? But unless the skeptic
can certify us about this, his instance remains inconclusive. It
is more important to remark, that the facts cited in the above
theodicy do give us a pleasing probability, which points in the
direction of God's consistency in the permission of evil. For
the beautiful feature which is common in the results cited is
that we here see providence bringing good out of the evil. That
fact is undeniable. Does the skeptic rejoin, ''Yes, but why didn't
your God bring about the whole good, minus the evil?" I
grant that this solemn question is not answered. But let it be
allowed for a moment, and for argument's sake, that God may
see a good reason, then the fact that he does bring good out
of the permitted evil will be of invaluable force to reinstate our
confidence in liis infinite benevolence in the midst of the un-
solved mystery.
We proceed now to the next advance in the argument of
the theodicy. The theologians set up these unquestionable
premises. There is no natural evil in the universe which is not
the result and penalty of moral evil, that is to say, of sin. God's
higher glory is to be a moral governor of rational free agents.
If the creatures are to remain such they must be governed by
moral inducements. Should God depart from that method he
would derationalize them and reduce them to the grade of
brutes. Does any skeptic desire to see that done, and the crea-
tion stripped of its noblest order? Surely not. It follows, then,
that God, in leaving men their free agency, must follow out
punctually this plan of moral sanctions; and if his creatures
choose to sin, he must needs allow the penalty to follow with
the same regularity with which his rewards follow their vir-
tues. Moreover, God's distributive righteousness not only jus-
tifies, but requires this course from him as a moral ruler; as
the chief magistrate of the universe he is actually under moral
obligations to his own perfections to be impartial, even if wilful
transgressors do incur deserved miseries which his benevolence
wonld fain see them escape. And this view is powerfully rein-
forced by the further fact, that the larger part of the penal
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 523
evils that follow transgression have not only a judicial con-
nection, but a necessary natural connection with their sins,
that, namely, of effects with their efficient causes. There is a
true sense in which it is not Clod that volunteers to punish sin,
but it is sin which punishes itself. "He that soweth to his flesh
shall of the flesh reap corruption"' (literally perdition. ''Sin
when it is finished brinjieth forth death." To sum up, then,
God's permission of natural evil in the world is all accounted
for by the presence of moral evil, that is to ;say. voluntary
transgression, and the entrance of the moral evil is an incident
liable to emerge under any moral government af free agents.
Still our skeptics '^refuse to be comforted." They retort,
that the Christian scheme ascribes to God regenerative power;
and that it holds that he can, and does, exercise it in a multitude
■of cases, without infringing the free agency of its subjects, or
making any disruption in his general plan of governing tliem
by rational and moral means. If the Christian's scheme relin-
quished this claim it would commit logical suicide. For it holds
that the natural heart of men fallen in Adam is invariably de-
termined to self-will and ungodliness; hence if God did not ex-
ercise a sovereign power of renegeratlon. he coiild never get une
of them converted. They would all continue with absolute cer-
taint}' to prefer the unconverted state. The scheme also claims
that God has pledged himself to keep all redeemed men and
elect angels in their heaven forever. But the voluntary apos-
tasy of any of them must result in their exclusion from heaven.
Now, therefore, if God had not the power of efficaciously de-
termining their holiness without subverting their free agency,
he has promised wliat he cannot be sure of performing, which
would be dishonest. Once more; the Christian scheme says,
that the promises of grace in answer to prayer are all yea and
amen. So that if God had not this power these promises would
also be uncandid. Now. then, since God has this power of pre-
serving the sanctity of the unfallen, and of sovereignly regen-
erating the fallen (a power which they -say he frequently exer-
cises), and if he foresaw that whenever a free agent perverted
himself, his 3wu high judicial obligations would require him to
bring misery on that creature, if he is infinitely benevolent, and
truly prefers holiness to sinfulness in his creatures, why did he
not preserve them all in holiness as he is said to have preserved
524 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
Gabriel? Or why does he uot regenerate tliem at once instead
of ("oming under this painful necessity of employing penal mis-
eries, which he foresees, moreover, to be futile fjr curing their
sinfulness? Why does he not regenerate Satan instead of chas-
tising him endlessly, and that without bettering him? Here is
a parent who has a delicate child; he foresees that this child is
liable to eat a certain rich but unwholesome viand with a mor-
bid appetite; he foresees also that the consequences will be a
colic. N »\v. tliis jiarent may be entirely unable to break the
pathological connection between a surfeit and a colic; but of
course he will use his superior physical strength to remove that
dish beyond the child's reach. If God is a parent, why does he
not act in a similar way? I take the ablest skeptics to witness
that I have extenuated nothing, but have stated their difficulty
as strongly as they ever state it.
There is here salemn difficulty arising from our contempla-
tion of the divine providence, and the thoughtful and benevo-
lent mind will recognize it most impressively. I expres&ly ad-
mit also that its exhaustive solution is beyond human reach.
The dread mystery which remains after all the efforts of human
exiplanation is doubtless one instance of the exercise of that
high prerogative of God in which he claims that secret things
belong to him, but the things which are revealed belong to us
and our children that we may do all the words of this law. If
once the existence and attributes of God are granted, then ev-
ery mind not wickedly and insanely arrogant will instantly ad-
mit tliat it is reas )nable such a sovereign should liave counsels
of his own. a part of which it is his just prerogative to reserve
to himself. There is not an inferior chief magistrate on earth
tliat does uot claim a right to the same. Moreover, it is impos-
sible that God should impart a full eomprehensi:^ of his whole
counsel to any mind that is finite and sinful, even if we sup-
posed liim to make the effort. Omnipotence itself could not put
an ocean of water into a quart pitcher. Hut because God has
not succeeded in working this impossibility in the agnostic's
little clouded mind he flies off in a pet, and says he will not
have any God at all '. If theism is true, the plan of God's admin-
istration is universal and everlasting. It must, therofore, be
literally infinite. Manifestly even he cannot put another iuind
in full possession of it without making that mind also infinite.
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 5'?5
Whence it strictly follows that if these questioners could be
gratified by giving them a religion without a mystery, verily
they "should be as gods." (The Bible reader knows the satanic
origin of that ambition.) This simple argument for modesty
of thought in our theology is powerfnlly reinforced by another
great fact, which is, that our acquaintance with all other sci-
ences is conditioned and limited in precisely the same way. And
every intelligent man knows that this is especially true of those
physical sciences which the agnostics love to put in contrast
with theology for superior clearness and certitude. I would
like to know how it is that they are all perfectly willing to be-
lieve in the sciences of phjsics, chemistr^^, botany, zoology, as-
tronomy, notwithstanding the insoluble mysteries involved in
each, and refuse theism because of its mystery, when they ought
to know that this is the very science in which the largest mys-
teries must reasonably be expected. Is it because they have a
special dislike to the God whom theism discloses, sharpened
by the apprehension that he has a just dislike for them? Let
it be settled, then, that the real question in debate is not
whether anybody can clear up the whole mystery of God's per-
mission of evil, but whether that mystery justifies anybody in
repudiating his heavenly Father, and all the duties he owes to
him, which are the highest and holiest duties of his being.
Next, it must be settled which party is logically' bound to
assume the burden of proof on this question. I shall now show
that it is the aginostic's. For why? Because the theist is in
IJossession of all the rightful presumptive probabilities on the
other side. The law gives every indicted man the right to as-
sume his presumptive innocency, and throws the burden of the
proof of his guilt upon the accuser. So here the facts pre-
viously demonstrated, or at least rendered presumably prob-
able in this theistic in(|uiry, all give the theist the right to the
initial presumptive. For instance, "the earth is full of the good-
ness of the Lord," that is, the a posteriori marks or signs of
the divine benevolence appear in every department of creation
and human experience. The whole structui-e of the human
faculties presents the most beautiful evidences of the benevol-
ence of "the Father of our spirits." Here is one point among
many: The psychologist finds in the human spirit a class of
affections called the malevolent affections, that is, their prac-
526 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
tical objective impulse is to liurt somebody; but they all have
this invariable trait in addition — even the few among them
which are sometimes justifiable — that they are also painful to
the person that feels them. There is a large opposite class call-
ed the benevolent affections; their objective impulse is to do
good to somebody, and these have this invariable trait, thai
they are pleasant in their exercise to the persons who feel them.
He is wilfully blind who cannot see the design of this pair of
general facts. It is obviously to discourage and limit all hurt-
ful human actions, and to stimulate and reward all beneficent
human actions. In other words, the franier of our spirits is be
uevolent. But the most extensive and grandest disclosure the-
ism makes about God is of his righteousness, jiind that both in
natural and revealed theology. The ways of providence are
always so devised that virtue is practical beneficence, and vice
'practical maleficence. Therefore when theology tell us that
God likes the former and hates the latter more than he likes or
hates anything else, it is but saying he is supremely benevolent.
But we must not pursue this delightful line of argument.
Another great class of facts which authorize us to throw
the burden of proof upon the accusers of God's providence, is
that while he mysteriously permits evils, it is his dearest pre-
rogative to bring good out of those evils. Are we to hold, then,
that God's mysterious permission of evil has in his mind some
sufficient ground, both just and benevolent, though above the
reach of human comprehension'/ I say. Yes. Colonel lugersoll
saj-s, Xo. Here is the issue clearly made up by the jjleadings.
Xow I say I am entitled to hold my side as presumptively true
until it is positively disproved. I say the burden of proof lies
on him. He must assume it or the court will properly dismiss
the case. The court says to him: "Mr. Prosecutor, you undertake
to prove that an infinite God cannot have a conscious ground
for his voluntary permission of evil in his kingdom which
satisfies him as both just and benevolent. You must do all that,
sir, or we will put you out of court. Your opponent, the theist,
is under no more obligation to prove what that ground is than
a citizen indicted for horse-stealing is bound to prove affirm-
atively that he did not steal the horse. He is entitled to stand
on the defensive; the prosecutor must prove that he did steal
the horse or he has no case. Sir, your duty here is similar."
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 527
But what sort of testimony will this accuser need iu order
to prove that atfirmative? ^Mauifestlv it must be a testimony
which explores the whole extent of God's omniscience, and his
whole eternal providence toward the universe; otherwise it will
be a dead failure; for the defense will rejoin, that it is sup-
posable alwaj's that God has seen his sufficient reason fur his
permission of evil in that portion of his infinite counsel and
providence left unexplored by the witness. The accuser has as
yet done nothing etTectual to exclude the presumptive hyp )i he-
sis that God may be justifiable; but this is what he undertook
to do. He will say, perhaps, that his witnesses have proved so
much namely: that God has full physical power to make and
keep all his creatures holy and happy, so that he cannot justify
himself in his permission of evil (as the Pelagian proposes he
shall), by the plea of inability. Let the accuser say that God
did not find the obstacle in the way of making his universe all
holy and happy in a lack of personal power. Granted. But.
may not his infinite mind have seen a proper obstacle in some
other quarter? That is the question. The man who under-
takes to deny that ought to be omniscient himself. In other
words, the accuser has undertaken an impossible task. He has
rashly undertaken to establish affirmatively a proposition which
none but infinite beings would be competent to discuss. The
decree of the court therefore is, ''The indictment is not proved."'
To this extent, then, the providence of God is not convicted
of wrong. I again admit candidly that its solemn mystery re-
mains, and a questioning mind is not yet furnished with an ex-
haustive solution.
There is a species of argutntnium ad hominem, which, the
books on logic tell us, is unfair. It consists iu attempting to
transfer some odium attaching to the adversary from his person
to his proposition and argument. I shall not use that form.
There is another kind which consists in holding the opponent
bound to any inconvenient or absurd consequences which pro-
ceed logically out of his positions, though we ourselves do not
concede those positions. This kind is perfectly fair. The Sa-
viour himself used it against the Pharisees. I am entitled to
use it in this debate.
In this direction my first point is the following: The prac-
tical point of the cavil against God's permission of evil is, that,
528 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
if there is a God, he is culpable for it. He i.s exceediii«»ly hlaui-
able far all tlii.s misery which should have been prevented by
him. That is to say, the caviller is altoji'ether in sympathy with
these creature sufferers as against their hard master. Of course,
ihcn, this humane and sympathizing caviller is doing everything-
in his power to minimize the hardships so blamably inflicted
upon his fellow-creatures. Of course he is steadily devoting his
best energies, his time, talents, and money, to repairing the
cruelties which this bad God has let loose upon po;)r fellow-
mortals, to comforting the sorrowful, to supplying their desti-
tutions, and especially to removing their ignorance and vices
;in(l irrcligion, which he knows to be the pracrical j)roxiniate
cause of so much of these pitiable sorrows. Of course this just
accuser thinks he has no money to waste upon the pomps and
luxuries of life, no time for any needless amusements, no time
or talent ta expend upon personal ambitions or any selfish aim.
Of course he husbands all conscientiously for the sacred object
of minimizing these evils of human existence, and mending so
much as may be mended of the neglects of this cruel God. If
he does not, is he not himself like the cruel God? Is not this
accusation of (xod, coming from such as he. too much like
"Satan reproving sin?'' Does this agnostic waste any money
upon Havana cigars and costly wines, which he would be better
without ; upon expensive architecture and furniture, where he
sees more honored men than himself do with plainer; upon par-
tisan political campaigns, which, whichever way they go, only
leave the country more corrupt — sacred moneA' which might
have been used to ease the sick of their agonies, to feed the
starving, to wipe the tears from the face of the orphan, to make
the desolate widow's heart sing for joy, to dissipate the ignor-
ance and vice and ungodliness from the heart of the yauth wlio
must otherwise reap the harvest of temporal perdition from
these seeds? I bring no charge; but I submit that, unless the
agnostic is truly acting in this i)hilanthropic way, decency
should close liis mouth. For shame's sake let him not blame
God for the results of a neglect which he himself practices.
The most probable rejoinder of the agnostic will be, that
he sees the majority of the professed Christians also practicing
this unphilanthropic neglect. My answer is, that I admit with
sorrow that it is partly true. It is also true that nearly all the
The latest infidelity. 521)
great and blessed charities of this poor world come from these
imperfect Christians. How much of them comes from agnos-
tics? I do not know. But let that pass. My w'ord to the agnos-
tic is this: sujjpose we let this good exalted God alone, and turn
all the blows of our criticisms on these inconsistent Cliiistians.
I sa}' to the agnostic, with all m\' heart, "Lay it on them well;
but let alone the heavenly Father whom they misrepresent."
My second point is this: When we showed in defense of
the divine providence that, supposing free agents choose to sin,
their suffering ought to follow, and must follow, because judi-
cial fidelity requires it, and because sin is suffering; the reply
of the agnostic was this: that if there is a God, he must have
foreseen that, and he ought to have felt bound to protect his
moral creatures from sinning by making their souls holy, or
else regenerating them when they made themselves unholy.
And we saw that this is really the agnostic's final stand in this
contest. I will' now ask a typical agnostic, say Colonel Inger-
soll, "Sir, how 'would you like God to regenerate you?" Per-
haps he will seek to evade me by answering, "But I do not now
believe there is any God or regeneration." "Yes; but suppos-
ing you did believe them, how would you like to be regenerated
3-ourself? *Stay, do not answer till I tell you what this means.
Regeneration means a complete revolution of the principles and
ends of life. It means surrendering ambition and worldinesss
for spiritual good. It means the absolute subjugation of self-
will under a superior and sovereign will, which will order you
to obey and ask no questions. It means a thoroughgoing cru-
cifixion of natural pride. It means the instant surrender of all
cherished sins. It means the honest assumption for the whole
remaining life of a career of new duties, many of which are
known to be repugnant, and all arduous. It means praying,
and Bible-reading, and watching one's self. It means, in a word,
taking up for life the yoke of a complete self-denial and self-
surrender. Regenerate persons will tell you that still they
have found a new species of spiritual happiness in this arduous
cross-bearing. But that pleasure is to you purely visionary, as
you never felt anything like it. The Bible also tells you that
this regeneration will finally bring you, after a severe disci-
pline, the happiness of heaven. But that is all out of sight to
you, lying beyond the boundaries of this world, which now en-
530 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
close all your wishes and aspirations — so completely enclose
them that you remain in doubt whether it would not be better
for you to die like a pig than to have any future world. Now,
Sir, you told us there was a time when you had a speculative be-
lief in Ood and his gospel. At that time how would you have
liked this regeneration for yourself? You know very well that
you disliked and resisted it with every fibre ,of your heart.
Sometimes when conscience seemed to be leading you towards
it, you recalcitrated, silently perhaps, but with the stubbornness
'Of a w'ild bull in a net. You jealously cherished your self-will,
your pride, your worldliness. You would have blushed to have
been caught praying. One chief source of that secret but in-
veterate enmity which your heart cherished toward the gospel
was just this: that it required of you such a regeneration and
also offered it to you as a boon. Well, you are the same man
yet in heart. The child has been father to the man. Could I
re-convince your speculative intellect that thi/S gospel which
you have discarded is true, the desperate repugnance to its re-
generation would doubtless revive in you. Kemember, now,
that we have agreed that there was one final method feasible
for God, by using which he could have rescued all his creatures
effectually from all moral and physical evil, namely, the regen-
eration I have described; and the very gravamen of your accu-
sation against God is that he ought to employ that method in
every case, but does not. But, lo! when this kind God comes
to you and says, 'Ingersoll, let me take you at your w^ord; let
me regenerate you, here and now, and thus bestow on you this
glorious and eternal security,' you are violently opposed to his
doing it. Here is the one and only way which remained to God
for avoiding the permission of any evil in his kingdom, and to
this way you have as to yourself a violent objection. There is
one medicine with which God could have cured the whole mat-
ter. You have been blaming him vehemently because he has
not administered it to everybody; but when he offers the cup
to you, you repel it with abhorrence. Do not you think. Sir,
that for shame's sake it is time for you to stop blaming him?"
I have just asserted the innate enmity of the human heart
to God's law. Here is a consideration which has a vital influ-
ence on this discussion, but for which agnostics never make
allowance. Yet, ^'whether they will hear, or whether they will
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 531
forbear," it is the right of the Christian pursuing this discus-
sion, and his high duty, to bear his serious testimony to this
indisputable fact of human nature. The point it contains is
very plain, that a person who has a fixed and wrongful hatred
to a government cannot be a just and correct critic of it. Wliat
man endued with common sense will gainsa}- that? And the
agnostics stubbornly refuse this caution and protest their im-
partiality, when to everybody else but themselves their invet-
erate hostility to the holiness of God's law is apparent! But I
claim mare. We are all voluntary culprits. We are all obnox
ious to the displeasure of the divine Judge. If his grace does
not arrest us we all continue pertinacious transgressors, and this
justifies his continued retributions. Now, ever}' item of that
aggregate of misery which presents the pretext of the cavil, is
the just judicial consequence of the creature's own voluntary
sin. There is not a pang of natural evil in the moral universe
which is not the appropriate fruit of transgression. Hence,
however hard to bear that natural evil may be, the culprits are
certainly not the parties that are entitled to accuse the govern-
ment. As soon as they appreciate their own guilt they always
learn that this is outrageously unseemly. If any criticism of
the divine management is to be made by any finite intellect,
it ought to be at least an unfallen intellect, without sin of its
own. The effectual way, then, of terminating these indict-
ments of God would be for the agnostics to learn the real qual-
ity and aggravations of their own sins of heart, nature, and life.
And could I teach them this, I should be conferring on them
the most inestimable blessing. Not only would this sinful de-
bate end absolutely, but this righteous humiliation of their own
spirits would prove to them the beginning of everlasting good.
Job was tempted to be an agnostic, and to make tedious efforts
to argue himself into the assertion of God's harshness. His ef-
fectual cure came only when he was compelled to say: "I
have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine
eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust
and ashes." The best wish I can otfer to all the agnostics is,
that they may become honest enough with themselves to look
fairly at God until they appreciate his infinite sovereignty, wis-
dom, justice, and benevolence, and learn in the light of his holi-
ness to see the exceeding sinfulness of their own sin. All this
582 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
debate will then be happily ended for tliem as well as for us.
One more point remains of this branch of my reply. I make
it by asking them what will be gained for them and their fel-
low-men if they establish their indictment? What will they
have proved? This: that the theistic scheme of the universe is
incredible, because of the prevalence in it of this dreadful mass
of natural and moral evil. That is, the doctrine of a personal,
rational God is abolished. What hypothesis of the universe is
left us? Only the materialistic and mechanical one. The flow
of events in the universe is not directed by any personal or
moral will at all. (Certainly our wills are impotent to control
it.) All is governed by natural laws, which can mean nothing
more than the irrevocable methods of blind natural forces.
These forces are unknowing and reasonless; they are resistless;
they are eternal; they are unchangeable. They can no more
be prayed to than the whirlwind can. Thus the agnostic, in re-
jecting theism, unavoidably gives us the scheme of a universal
mechanical fate. His universe is but an immense machine.
Now, I solemnly ask him: By forcing upon us this ghastly
doctrine, has he diminished one iota of this volume of miseries,
the conception of which so distresses us all? Does he stop the
flow of a single tear? Does he arrest a single pang of disease?
Does he diminish by one unit the awful catalogue of deaths?
Does he take anything from the reality of any single human
bereavement? Is there one particle of agency in this doctrine
to check in any soul that sinfulness which is the spring of all
our woes? None. Even agnostic arrogance does not dare to
claim it. On his scheme every evil which he so bitterly objects
against Grod's scheme remains. All that he has done is to rob
sufi'ering humanity of its sole true consolation, which is found
in that fact the gospel alone shows us, that it is the darling
prerogative of the Father of mercies to bring good out of this
sore evil for all who will accept his grace and make it work
out, bitter as it may be now, "a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory." Thus their doctrine can take nothing from
the miseries of mankind; all it can do is to rob men of the only
possible solace, and to tell them while they suffer that their
woes are as futile of better results as they are inevitable. In
a word, they give us as the true conception of our existence this
somber picture, which F. D. Strauss substantially avows at the
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 533
end of his great agnostic argument. Our world is a huge and
terrible machine of stone and iron; its motive jiower eternal,
resistless, and blind; its revolutions impossible to be ever ar-
rested or changed in the least, and the corn between its upper
and nether millstones is an ever-flowing stream of human
hearts, with all their precious affections and hopes and keen
sensibilities, bleeding and crushed under the remorseless grind.
And to the yawning jaws of this hellish mill each one of us
knows he is traveling, and must be caught by them sooner or
later.
And this is the scheme pressed upan us by gentlemen who
affect too much humane sensibility to endure the harsh injustice
of God's gospel! What, is this scheme rejected for this doc-
trine of despair? I repeat, it is the one which, while it recog-
nizes God's holy sovereignty and right to punish sin, and to
keep in his own breast the dread secrets of his infinite purpose,
teaches us his wise, merciful, and holy control over this terrible
blind machine of nature, and offers to all who do not contuma-
ciously reject his goodness an almighty redemption which ter-
minates these sufferings of time into eternal blessings. May
God save us all from such humanity as that of the agnostics I
Proceeding now to a more independent line of attack. I re-
quest the reader to inspect the process of the agnostic's logic at
its cardinal place. It is simply thisr the line of argument for
the being, attributes, and providence of God leads him up to a
great mystery, which cannot be fully resolved for him. What
then? He will stop and weigh the amount of validity it may
contain, notwithstanding the mystery in its conclusion. Now,
all men would deem this mere logical lunacy if applied to any
other line of evidence. We know very well that evidence ap-
parently valid which leads to an inevitable self-contradiction is
defeated by its own result, whether we can put our finger upon
its flaw or not. We justly claim that it cannot be correct. This,
in fact, is the quality of the disi»roof of an argument by the re-
ductio ad absurdum. But manifestly the case which the agnos-
tic has made against theism is wholly different. A mystery in
our conclusion is not a necessary self-contradiction; that it can-
not be shown to be such, follows from the very fact that it is a
mystery. Since we cannot comprehend it, we cannot assert its
contradictoriness. And this I confirm by the assertion that ev-
534 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
cvy other Hue of scientific evidence, in every department of hu-
man Ivnowledge, leads sooner or later to some such insoluble
mj^stery. So that, if the agnostic's method of procedure against
theism were proper, he ought to reject every science known to
man and announce himself an absolute ignoramus.
For instance, what physicist can answer this question:
What is electricity? There is good and sufficient empirical evi-
dence that this mysterious energy exists; but what is it? Why
does it imbue some material bodies and not others? Why do
only a few conduct it fully? If it is ponderable matter, why
cannot the chemist weigh it in his most delicate scales? If it
is not, how does it hit hard enough to rive the gnarled oak?
Every good physicist knows he cannot answer these questions.
Every agnostic, then, ought to say, if he will be consistent, and
proceed in physics as he does in theology, "I will have none of
this science of electricity. I will not avail myself of its con-
veniences, lightning-rod, telegraph, electric light, electric mo-
tors. I will not believe in electricity; even if the lightning
strikes me I will not believe in it." The intelligent reader
knows that if I cared to detain him, I could cite instances equal-
ly pungent from every one of those physical sciences which ag-
nostics love to place in contrast with theology for their superior
clearness. Now my point is, that no man can proceed upon this
wilful method, which the agnostics would have us apply to the
theistic argument, without incurring the charge of lunacy. But
they ought to be more willing to apply that wanton method in
physics than in theology; because in the latter we have more
ground to expect mysteries from the infinitude of the Being
whom we study. When a line of evidence leads a sensible man
to a startling and mysterious conclusion, what does he do? He
would be prompted to revise the evidence carefully. That is
all. If he finds it valid, he admits the conclusion in spite of the
mj'stery. The sensible man bestows credence upon any propo-
sition in any science, not because he comprehends the predicate,
but because he apprehends perspicuous evidence supporting the
copula. Now the several lines of evidence, rational and scrip-
tural, for the being, attributes, and providence of God, are of
invincible force; they cannot be resisted in their own appro-
priate spheres. Every successive attempt to weaken them in
that way perishes under the light of true philosophy. I con-
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 535
elude this point by firmly asserting that agnostics have no right
thus to discount the whole force of this evidence, treating it as
nju-existent. when it has so substantial an existence, not be-
cause they can refute it, but simply because they do not like its
result. The process is utterly illicit.
Superficial opponents of God's retributive justice frequent-
ly argue that this is a different attribute from his love, and in-
deed so antithetic that they cannot find a place for it in a na-
ture declared to be infinite love. A little correct thinking will
show that this reasoning is not only groundless, but absurd.
In fact, the principle of righteousness in every moral being is
not dual, but single. The plurality of its actions arises solely
from the contrast of the objects to which the principle directs
itself. The magnetic needle in the compass is endued with one
energy or magnetic principle, not two. This single energy will
cause either end of the needle to act in opposite ways to the two
opposite poles of the earth; and because the upper end is at-
tracted towards the north pole, for that very reason it is re-
pelled from the south pole. I prove it by this fact, that it is
impossible to make a needle such that its upper end would be
attracted to the north pole and not repelled from the south pole.
Should any sailor tell you that he had such a needle, nobody
would believe him. This instance presents us with a correct
parallel to the action of the moral principle in a moral agent.
The principle is and can be only one. It acts in opposite ways
towards virtuous and vicious objects, because it is one, and 'be-
cause it rationally appreliends the objects as opposites. Hence
it follows, that this central principle would not be capable of
acting in the amiable way of approbation, complacency and re-
ward towards a virtuous object, unless it were certain from its
own nature to act in the opposite and severer way of reprehen-
sion towards towards a vicious and repulsive object. I repeat,
that unless this principle is so constituted as to repel the re-
pulsive action, it cannot be so constituted as to be attracted to
the attractive action. One might as well talk of a yard-stick
with only one end, or of a house with its south side, and no
north side. Every man when he thinks knows that this is the
condition upon whicli all correct moral principle exists, and he
is incredulous about any other. Let me construct a little para-
ble. I ask the agnostic, or the universalist, to come with me
58G THE LATEST INFIDELITY
aud watch the proceedings of a certain stranger, of whom all we
know as jet is that he claims a high reputation for amiability,
philanthropy, equity and charity. He tells us that it is a peren-
nial pleasure to him to witness and reward all benevolent and
generous actions. I say to him. ^'Stranger, so far, well. I must
now point you an opi)osite object. There stands a young repro-
bate, the son of a devoted widowed mother, who is known to
have robbed her of her little property, to neglect her wants in
her destitution, to heap reproaches and curses upon her. and
even to strike her venerable face. What are your feelings
towards that object?" We suppose the stranger to answer, "Oh,
sir, I assure you I am too thoroughly amia^ble to have any feel-
ing about it. True, I see nothing in it to admire, but I am too
affectionate to detest anything. I have no feeling at all towards
that reprobate." I ask, would anybody believe him? Or, if we
believe his statement that he felt no reprehension for so de-
testable a son, must we not set him down also as a cold-blood-
ed villain, whose pretended charity was all sheer hypocrisy?
Such is the judgment of every man's common sense.
Let us pass now from the virtuous principle in man to
God. I assert that my argument only 'becomes the stronger.
The perfectness of God's virtues only renders it more conclu-
sive, because the purity, the equity, the truth, the love of God
are infinite. It is therefore only the more certain that the cen-
tral principle which makes him approve and love the virtuous
must prompt him to reprehend the vicious. Men vainly imag-
ine that it would be a delightful theology to have a God so
amiable as to be sure to reward all good things. Taut also too
amiable to be capable of punishing any evil thing. They de-
mand an impossibility. The only way to reach it would be to
have a God without any moral qualities at all. Who would
wish to live under an omniscient and omnipotent Ruler who
was not capable of knowing or caring whether he was reward-
ing the wicked and punishing the good? If we must desire
such moral principle in our Supreme Ruler as will be always
certain of acting amiably and justly towards the good, then
w^e must be willing that he shall be equally certain to repre-
hend the wicked. If they would have a God too amiable to
maintain a hell, they must accept one who is also too careless
and heartless to provide any heaven.
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 537
Does oue say that still the mysterj' of Grod's permission of
evil is not fully explained? I did not promise to explain it
fully, which I believe will never be done in this world. What
I pr3mised was to satisfy the just and humble mind that God
has his sufficient explanation, which we are sure is consistent
with his wisdom, benevolence, and holiness, without knowinj]j
what it is. Natural theology gives sufficient ground for this
consoling conclusion from its splendid evidences that he is all-
wise, righteous, and benevolent, which have their prepander-
ating force notwithstanding the unanswered question, and es-
pecially from this important trait, which runs through the
whole mystery, that the plan of his providence is to bring good
out of the evil.
But revealed theology gives us a crjwning and all-sulfi-
cient satisfaction. It is found in the fact that Grod is so in-
finite in benevolence and mercy, that at his own mere option
he has made tin? supreme sacrifice for the redemption of his
enemies. He provides this infinite blessing for them at the
cost of the humiliation and death of his eternally begotten
and co-equal Sou, whom he knows to outrank, in the dimen-
sions of his infinite being and in his moral desert, all his ra-
tional creatures combined together. The gospel tells us that
this transcendent sacrifice will not redeem the apostate an-
gels, and will not receive full application to all human beings.
These are awful truths. But. be the cause of this limitation
found where it may, it cannot be sought in any lack or stint of
goodness in God. For had there been any such stint in his
nature, one fibre of neglect, or injustice, or cruelty, this would
inevitably have prevented thf supreme sacrifice for the behoof
of any one. There is the triumphant theodicy in the infinite
love which prompted redemption — redemption as apprehended
by the evangelical triuitarian. There, no doubt, is the supreme
glory of this gospel by which the apostle tells us God is mak-
ing known to all worlds his manifold wisdom through the
church of ransomed men. I will set forth the point of this
argument in a closing parable. We see a surgeon enter a dwell-
ing. A mother calls to her pallid, limping child, and seizes
her in her arms. The surgeon produces one of those treacher-
ous cases — so beautiful without with their ornamented woods
and gilded clasps, so terrible within with the cold glitter of
538 THE LATEST INFIDELITY.
forceps, bistouries, amputating-lmives, aud bone-saws. The
child beholds with wide-eved wonder and then with terror, ere
she perceives that these instruments are to be employed on her
body. As the surgeon approaches she appeals to her mother
with agonizing screams and tears: "Oh, mother, mother, save
me!" But we see the woman, with stern eye, compressed lips,
and pallid cheek, bare the child's swollen joint, and hold her
struggling in her relentless arms, w^hile the cruel knife cuts the
tender skin, carves the bleeding flesh, and pierces even to the
very marrow of the diseased joint. Is this a mother or a tig-
ress? The simple explanation is, that she is a true mother,
wise and tender, who knows that this severe remedy is needed
to save the precious life of her child, who would otherwise be
the victim of a slow, loathsome, and torturing death. Has she
not shown the truest love? and has not her fidelity cost her in-
ward pangs of sympathy more cruel than the bodily smart of
the surgery, which she has lieroically borne for love's salce?
But now stei)s forward the caviller, and says: ''Stop, this
w^onian is herself a wondrous leech. She knows all healing lo-
tions, and all the herbs of virtue, some of which would have
cured the diseased limb without a pang while the child slept;
or, at least, she could have secured for her child the uncon-
sciousness wiiich chloroform gives during the operation. Why,
then, did she not use the gentler means to save this life, when
she had them at her option? No, she must ibe intrinsically
cruel and heartless. She must find pleasure in the gratuitous
suffering of her own child." I am compelled to reply: "I do
not know her reasons. Her social station is far above mine.
She has never taken me into her domestic confidence. I had no
right to demand that she should. But I can testify to auotlier
fact. A few months ago the cry of fire drew me to a dwelling
not far from this place which was wrapped in flames, and evi-
dently near the final crash. The parents had (been busy rescu-
ing their children, and, for the moment, supposed they had
saved them all. But a cry issued from another window. A lit-
tle white-robed figure was seen at it through the eddying smoke,
crying: 'Father, mother! O save me.' All declared that it was
too late. Even the father, amidst his bitter tears, acquiesced.
But I saw the mother tear herself from the restraining hands
of the firemen, who told her that any effort at rescue was mad-
THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 539
ness aud suicide, leaving tlie shreds uf lier raiiueut in their
clutches, aud dart up the fuming stairway. The stern men
turned their faces away from the horror and stood wringing
their hands. But in a minute the woman returned, her sill^en
tresses bhizing, her garments on fire, one of her fair cheeks
scorched, shrivelled by the blast, one eye blistered in the socket,
but with her child in her arms wrapped safely in a blanket.
After only pausing to extinguish the flames that were threat-
ening her life, I saw her fall on her knees, and say: 'Thank
God; I have saved my child.' Pass around this lady's chair,
Mr. Caviller, you will see upon the other side of her face the
scars of that rescue which, in one moment, blighted the beauty
of her young motherhood for life. This is that mother; and
this is the same child. Now, sir, I cannot satisfy your curiosity
about the disuse of the chloroform, but I know tMs 'heroic
mother's heart has its reason. For why? Because I saw her
make the supreme sacrifice for this child. After such a demon-
stration of boundless love, your cavil is impertinent, if not
brutal."
THE ATTRACnONS OF POPERY.
1)1-. Joliu H. Kice. with the intuition of a gix'ixi mind, warn-
ed Presbyrei-iaus against a renewed prevalence of popery in our
Protestant land. This was when it was so insignificant among
us as to be almost unnoticed. Many were surprised at his pro-
phecy, and not a few mocked; but time has fulfilled it. Our
leaders from 1830 to 1860 understood well the causes of this
danger. They were diligent to inform and prepare the minds of
their people against it. Hence General Assemblies and Synods
appointed annual sermons upon popery, and our teachers did
their best to arouse the minds of the people. Now, all this has
mainly passed away, and we are relaxing our resistance against
the dreaded foe just in proportion as he grows more formidable.
It has become the fashion to condenm controversy and to affect
the widest charity for this and all other foes of Christ and of
souls. High Presbyterian authority even is quoted as saying,
that henceforth our concern v.ith Romanism should be chiefly
irenicall The figures presented by the census of 1890 are con-
strued in opposite ways. This gives the papists more than four-
teen millions of adherents in the United States, where ninety
years ago there were but a few thousands. Such Protestamt
journals as think it their interest to play sycophants to public
opinion try to persuade us that these figures are very consoling ;g
because, if Kome had kept all the natural increase of her immi-
grations the numbers would have been larger. But Rome points
to them with insolent triumph as prognostics of an assured vic-
tory over Protestantism on this continent. Which will prove
correct?
Both logic and Holy Writ teach us that "the thing which
hath been is the thing which shall be." Like c^iuses must be
expected to produce like effects. For Presbj'terians of all oth-
ers to discount the perpetual danger from Romanism is thor-
oughly thoughtless and rash. We believe that the Christianity
1 Appeared in The Presbyterian Quarterly, April, 1894. 540
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 541
left by the apostles to the primitive church was essentially what
we now call Presbyterian and Protestant. Prelacy and popery
speedily began to work in the bosom of that community and
steadily wrought its corruption and almost its total extirpa-
tion. Why should not the same cause tend to work the same
result again? Are we truer or wiser Presbyterians than those
trained by the apostles? Have the enemies of truth become less
skillful and dangerous by gaining the experience of centuries?
The popish system of ritual and doctrine was a gradual growth,
which, madifying true Christianity, first perverted and then ex-
tinguished it. Its destructive power has resulted from this:
that it has not been the invention of any one cunning and hos-
tile mind, but a gradual growth, modified by hundreds or thou-
sands of its cultivators, who were the most acute, learned, sel-
fish, and anti-Christian spirits of their generations, perpetually
retouched and adapted to every weakness and every attribute
of depraved human nature, until it became the most skillful
and pernicious system of error which the world has ever known.
As it has adjusted itself to every superstition, every sense of
guilt, every foible and craving of the depraved human heart,
so it has travestied with consummate skill every active princi-
ple of the gospel. It is doubtless the ne plus ultra of religious
delusion, the final and highest result of perverted human facul-
ty guided 'by the sagacity of the great enemj-.
This system has nearly conquered Christendom once. He
who does not see that it is capable of conquering it again is
blind to the simplest laws of thought. One may ask. Does it
not retain sundry of the cardinal doctrines of the gospel, mon-
otheism, the trinity, the hypostatic union, Christ's sacrifice, the
sacraments, the resurrection, the judgment, immortality? Yes;
in form it retains them, and this because of its supreme cun-
ning. It retains them while so wresting and enervating as to
rob them mainly of their sanctifying power, because it designs
to spread its snares for all sorts of minds of every grade of
opinion. The grand architect was too cunning to make it, like
his earlier essays, mere atheism, or mere fetishism, or mere
polytheism, or mere pagan idolatry ; for in these forms t?he trajj
only ensnared the coarser and more ignorant natures. He has
now perfected it and baited it for all types of humanity, the
most refined as well as the most imbruted.
542 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
I. Romanism now enjoys in our country certain important
advantages, whicli I may style legitimate, in this sense, that our
decadent, half-corrupted Protestantism bestows these advan-
tages upon our enemy, so that Rome, in employing them, only
uses what we ourselves give her. In other words, there are
plain points upon which Rome claims a favorable comparison
as against Protestantism; and her claim is correct, in that the
latter is blindly and criminally toetraying her own interests and
duties.
(1.) A hundred years ago French atheism gave the world
the Jacobin theory of political rights. The Bible had been
teaching mankind for three thousand years the great doctrine
of men's moral equality before the universal Father, the great
basis of all free, just, and truly republican forms of i-ivil so-
ciety. Atheism now travestied this true doctrine by her mor-
tal heresy of the absolute equality of men, asserting that every
human 'being is naturally and inalienably entitled to every
right, power, and prerogative in civil society which is allowed
to any man or any class. The Bible taught a liberty wiiich con-
sists in each man's unhindered privilege of having and doing
just those things, and no others, to which he is rationally and
morally entitled. Jacobinism taught the liberty of license —
every man's natural right to indulge his own absolute will; and
it set up this fiendish caricature as the object of sacred worship
for mankind. Now, democratic Protestantism in t'hese United
States has become so ignorant, so superficial and wilful, that
it confounds the true republicanism with this deadly heresy of
Jacoibinism. It has ceased to know a difference. Hence, when
the atheistic doctrine begins to bear its natural fruits of li-
cense, insubordination, communism, and anarchy, this bastard
democratic Protestantism does not know how to retouke them.
It has recognized the parents; how can it consistently condemn
the children? Now, then, Rome proposes herself as the stable
advocate of obedience, order, and permanent authority through-
out the ages. She shows her practical power to govern men, as
she says, through their consciences (truth would say, through
their superstitions). Do we wonder that good citizens, begin-
ning to stand aghast at these elements of confusion and ruin,
the spawn of Jacobinism, which a Jacobinized Protestantism
cannot control, should look around for some moral and reli-
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 543
gious system capable of supporting a firm social order? Need
we be surprised that when Rome steps forward, saving, "I have
been through the centuries the upholder of order," rational men
should be inclined to give her their hand? This high advantage
a misguided Protestantism is now giving to its great adversary.
(2.) The Reformation was an assertion of liberty of
thought. It asserted for all mankind, and secured for the Prot-
estant nations, each man's right to think and decide for himself
upon his religious creed and his duty towards his God, in the
fear of Grod and the truth, unhindered by human power, politi-
cal or ecclesiastical. Here, again, a part of our Protestantism
perverted the precious truth until the "manna bred warms, and
stank." Rationalistic and skeptical Protestantism now claims,
instead of that righteous liberty, license to dogmatize at the
bidding of every caprice, every impulse of vanity, every false
philosophy, without any responsibilit}' to either truth or moral
obligatian. The result has been a diversity and confusion of
pretended creeds and theologies among nominal Protestants,
which perplexes and frightens sincere, 'but timid, minds. Ev-
erything seems to them afloat upon this turbulent sea of licen-
tious debate. They are fatigued and alarmed; they see no end
of uncertainties. They look around anxiously for some safe
and fixed foundation of credence. Rome comes forward and says
to them, You see, then, that this Protestant liberty of thaught is
fatal license; the Protestant's ''rational religion" turns out to be
but poisonous rationalism, infidelity wearing the mask of faith.
Holy Mot'her Church offers you the foundation of her infallibil-
ity, guaranteed by the indwelling of the Holy Ghost. She shows
you that faith must ground itself in implicit submission, and
not in human inquiry. She pledges herself for the safety of
your soul if you simply submit; come, then, ''trust and be at
rest." Many are the weary souls who accept her invitations;
and these not only the weak and cowardly, but sometimes the
'brilliant and gifted, like a Cardinal Xewmau. For this result
a perverted Protestantism is responsible. If all nominal Prot-
estants were as honest in their exercise of mental liberty as the
fear of God and the loj-alty to truth should make them; if they
were as humble and honest in construing and obeying God's
word in his Bible, as papists profess to be in submit ting to the
authority of the Holy Mother Church, honest inquirers would
544 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
never be embarrassed, and would never be befooled intr* suppos-
ing that the words of a pope could furnish a more comfortable
foundation for faith than the word of God.
(3.) To the shame of our damaged Protestantism, popery
remains, in some essential respects, more fairhful to (Jod's truth
than its rival. For instance, while multitudes of scholars, call-
ing themselves Protestant Christians, are undermining the doc-
trine of the inspiration of the Scriptures, Rome holds fast to it
in her catechisms and formal declarations. True, she claims in-
spiration for others than the prophets, evangelists, and apostles
for her popes, namely, and prelates, holding to ''the apostolic
succession." But if one must err, it is better to err by excess
than by defect on a point like this, where negation cuts the
blinded soul of man off absolutely from the divine guidance.
Thousands of pretended Protestant believers are advancing
their destructive criticism to assert that the I'entateuch is a
literary fraud. Rome firmly maintains that it is God's own
work through Moses. A thousand deceitful arts are plied to
degrade the conception of inspiration, as giving only thoughts,
and not the words, or as consisting only in an elevation of the
consciousness by poetic genius, and such like treacherous
views. Rome still teaches the old-fashioned, honest view.
What right have such deceitful Protestants to scold Rome for
dishonesty of those historical and spiritual impostures upon
which she founds the clai'ms of the popes? Truly, they are
dirty enough; for the forged decretals, for instance, too much
contempt and reprehension cannot be expressed. But they are
not a whit dirtier than the mental dishonesty of the men who,
after asserting that they have proved the Pentateuch mostly a
literary fraud, done by priestcraft more than a thousand years
after its pretended date, still assure us that its value as Scrip
ture and divine rule of faith is not wounded. These recent jus-
tifiers of pious fraud cannot convict the older ones. The old
imposture, like a rotten roof, has become moss-grown with age.
and is picturesque and venerable in many eyes. The new im-
posture stands ugly and malodorous in its rank freshness.
Again, multitudes of pretended Protestants utterly deny
the trinity, the very corner-stone of a theology of redemption.
Rome affirms it in all the fullness of the creeds of Mce, Chalce-
don, and Athanasius. Myriads of pretended Protestants revere
their own ethical philosophy so much more than they do their
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 5-15
God that they must needs utterly reject Christ's vicarious satis-
faction for the guilt of sin. Rome continues to aissert it, in
spite of spurious philosophy, although she does add to it super-
stitious claims of human merit. Myriads of our men have be-
come such "advanced thinkers" that they cannot away with
supernatural regeneration. Rome teaches it invariably, even if
it is in the form of baptismal regeneration, and still ascribes it
to the power of God. Such are a few of the biting contrasts.
We cannot wonder that many, even of honest and reverent
minds, when they witness this ruthless destruction of the es-
sentials of the gospel, draw two plain inferences. One is, that
all such men pretending to be Protestant believers are, in fact,
nothing but infidels wearing a mask, probably for the sake of
the loaves and fishes as yet connected with the clerical calling;
so that it is mere impudence for such men to assume to warn
them against popish impostures — rather too near akin to Satan
reproving sin. The other is, that the Romanist theologians
must 'have been right in asserting, ever since the days of Lutii-
er, that our Protestant way of esta'blishing a divine rule of faith
by a rational and explicit credence must turn out nothing but
rationalistic infidelity. Souls which value a divine redemp-
tion for man shudder as the.y behold this wild havoc of every-
thing characteristic of a saving gospel; and they naturally ex-
claim, "There is no security except in going 'back to that old
foundation, implicit trust in the witness of 'Holy Mother
Church' to the Scriptures!" Now, true Protestants know that
this conclusion is wretchedly sophistical, but it is dreadfully
natural for honest, half-informed men.
(4.) The best argument for any creed is the godly living of
its professors. Protestantism used to have a grand and victor-
ious advantage on that point. She is ceasing to wield it. The
wealth begotten by her very virtues of industry, thrift, and
probity has debauched many of her children. "Jeshurun has
waxen fat, and kicked." An unbounded fi-ood of luxury sweeps
Protestant families away. A relaxed and deceitful doctrine pro-
duces its sure fruits of relaxed and degraded morals. Church
discipline is nearly extinct. Meantime spurious revivalism, re-
lying upon all species of vulgar clap-trap and sensational arti-
fice, upon slang rhetoric and the stimulating of mere animal
sympathies, instead of the pure word and spirit of God, is hur-
546 THE ATTEAOTIONS OF POPERY.
rying tens of thousands of dead souls into the Protestamt
churches. These evils have goue so far that a profession of
faith in these churches has come to mean nearly as little as a
professed conformitj' to Rome means. No shrewd man regards
such a profession as any sufficient guarantee for truth or com-
mon honesty in dealing. The lawyers tell us that litigation un-
masks about as much intended fraud, purposed extortion, and
loose swearing in these church members as in other people.
Worldly conformity is so general that the line between the
church and the world has become nearly as indistinct as that
between spiritual and prafane living in the Romish communion.
Meantime, Rome gets up no spurious revivals; she works her
sj'stem with the steadiness and perseverance which used to
characteriz'e pastoral effort and family religion among Presby
terians. It is true that her cultus is intensely ritualistic; but,
at least, it does not offend decent people ^by irreverent slang;
her worship is liturgical, but her liturgies, however erroneous
in doctrine, are, at least, genteel, and marked by aesthetic dig
nity. Rome does not venture on sham miracles very much in
these United States. It is true she has her spurious relics and
other superstitious impostures for impressing the peojjle; but
wherein are they less of human artifices and less deceptive than
the machinery of our pretended revivals, with their marchings,
handshakings, choruses, and ephemeral conversions? Rome's
confessional is, indeed, a terrible organ of spiritual tyranny;
but still it is a strong argan of church discipline, and it is stead-
ily employed as such in every Romish chapel. The average
Protestant church member feels that any assumption of real
presbyterial authority over him by his pastor would be an im-
pertinence, which he would resent with scorn. The Romish
priest still wields a potent, ghostly authority over his people.
One may cry that he wields it by virtue of superstition, by the
threat of withholding his absolution or extreme unction. Yet
he wields it, and usually for the credit of his church. He
teaches his members to practice the forms of their daily de-
votion with diligence and regularity, holding out a powerful
motive in the promise of merit thus wrought out. The Prot-
estant may exclaim, These are but machine prayers, vain repe-
titions told off by the dozen along with the beads! Very true,
the most of it may be very poor stuff; but nothing can be quite
tSe attractions of popeey. 647
so poor aud worthless as the living of many Protestant mem
bers, who have no family altar and no closet, who say no pray-
ers either in form or in spirit, and who have no conscience of
keeping either Sabbaths or saints' days. It is a very bad thing
in the Romanist to join the worship of Mary and the saints with
that of God; but we surmise that it is a still worse thing to be
a practical atheist, and statedly to worship nothing, neither
saint nor God, as many an enrolled member of a Protestant
church now does.
The Romanist's machine prayers and vain repetitious have,
at least, this tendency, to sustain in his soul some slight habit
of religious reverence, aud this is better than mere license of
life. While the two cammunions wear these aspects, we need
not wonder that those Americans, at least, whose early preju
dices lean towards Rome should honestly regard her as the bet-
ter mother of piety and morals.
(5.) We Protestants are also giving away to Rome another
powerful influence over honest and thoughtful Christian minds.
This we do by secularizing our whole State education. The bulk
of the Protestants in the United States have betrayed them-
selves, through their partisan political zeal, to an attitude con-
ctM'uing the rearing of youth which must ever be preposterous
and untenable for sincere Christians. The statesmen and di-
vines of the Reformation, the Luthers, Calvins, Knoxes, Win-
tlirops, and Mathers, were strong advocates of State education;
they were such 'because they believed in the close union of
church and State; because their conception of the State was
thoroughly theocratic. Had these men been asked, What think
you of a theory of education which should train the understand-
ing without instructing the religious conscience; which should
teach young immortal spirits anything and everything except
God; which should thus secularize education, a function essen-
tially spiritual, and should take this parental tRsk from the
fathers and mothers, on whom God imposed it, to confer it on
the human aud earthly organism, expressly secular and god-
less? they would have answered with one voice. It is pagan, ut-
terly damnable. But they thought that the State might edu-
cate, because the State with them was Christian. Thus Sta,t€
education was firmly grafted into the Puritan colonies. New
England, with her usual aggressiveness, has pushed her usage
548 THE ATTEACTIONS OF POPERY.
all over the empire. Meantime the Jetfersouian doctrine of the
absolute severance and independence of church and State, of
the entire secularitj of the State, and the absolutely equal
rights, before the law, of religious truth and error, of pagan-
ism, atheism, and Christianity, has also established itself in all
the States; and still the politicians, for electioneering ends,
propagate this State education everywhere. By this curious
circuit ''Christian America" has gotten herself upon this thor-
oughly pagan ground; forcing the education of responsible,
moral, and immortal beings, of which religion must ever be the
essence, into the hands of a gigantic human agency, which re-
solves that it cannot and will not be religious at all. Surely
some great religious body will arise in America to lift its Chris-
tian protest against this monstrous result! But, lo! the chief,
the only organized protest heard in America comes from the
Romish Church. It is she who stands forth pre-eminent, almost
single-handed, to assert the sacred rights of Christian parents
in the training of the souls they have begotten, of Christ in the
nurture of the souls he died to redeem. To-day it is this Rom-
ish Church which stands forth precisely in the position of the
Luthers, Calvins, Knoxes, and Mathers as to the main, central
point, which is^ that the education of the young should be
Christian^ and should be committed to Christian hands And
what are our representative Protestants saying? Instead of
admitting this truth of the ages, and confessing the fatal error
into which their haste and Jacobinism have betrayed them,
they are only shouting that Rome objects to the American
State school because Rome hates republicanism, and wishes to
overthrow it. The best they can do is to place themselves Jn
this absurd and dishonest position: To boast in one breath of
their loyalty to the principles of the Reformers concerning edu-
cation, and in the next breath to vilify the Roman Church for
reasserting the very principles of these same Reformers. What
can they expect save a miserable defeat upon this false posi-
tion, if, indeed, common justice and common sense are to con-
tinue traits of the American mind; unless, indeed, America is
to make up her mind to be atheistic or pagan instead of Chris-
tian? These misguided Protestants may be assured that there
are hundreds of thousands of serious, devout parents who will
be much more likely to honor Rome as the faithful champion of
THE ATTRAOTIOISrS OF POPERY. 549
Christ's rights over their children than to condemn lier as the
designing enemy of free government. In this unnatural con-
test Protestantism can only lose, while Rome gains; and she
will gain the approval not only of the superstitious, but of the
most thoughtful and devout minds.
(G.) It lis with this most valuable class of minds that Rome
is now gaining anather far-reaching advantage. This is by her
doctrine concerning marriage and the relations of the sexes. On
these points she continues to hold and teach tlie highest views.
It is very true that Rome errs in making marriage a sacrament
of the church; but she makes it, as Scripture does, a divinely ap-
pointed and religious institution, while Protestant laws and de-
bauched Protestant thought tend all over America to degrade it
to a mere civil contract. The Roman doctrine and canon law re-
cognize no divorce except by the pope himself. They teach that
marriage is inviolable. The divorce laws in our Protestant!
States provide so many ways for rending the marriage tie that
its vows have become almost a farce. We are told that many
Protestant wonu^n in America scornfully refuse to talce the vow
of oibedience to tlieir husbands, ai)puinted by God in his word;
and Protestant i)arsons are so cowardly that they dare not men-
tion it in the mai'inage ceremony. But Rome still exacts thijs
conjugal ()1)edience of her daugliter's. Romish }»astors also
stand almost alone in teaching their people the enomnous crim-
inality of those nameless sins against jvosterity at which fash-
ionable Protestantism connives. Moral and thoughtful men
who know history know how fundamental the sanctity of mar-
riage and the family is to society and the church, how surely
their corruption must destroy both and 'barbarize mankind, look
on aghast at this sjjreading taint in American life. Many an
educated jtatriot is beginning to say that Romanism is the only
firm and consistent opponent.
Protestants may exclaim that Rome has ever been a cor-
i-upting religion; that even the confessional has been made the
instrument of profligacy. No doubt these things have often
been true; yet another thing is visibly true in these United
States: that while degrading views of the marriage relation and
of the honor of parentage are eating out the life of so many
nominal I'rotestant families, and bringing them to total ex-
tinction, the families of Romanists are better protected from
550 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
this bliglir. Their houses are peopled with childi-en, while the
homes of rich Protestants are too elegant and luxurious for
such nuisances. By the very force of the Malthusian law of
population Romanism is growing, while Protestantism stands
still.
I have thus described six distinct lines of intiueiice which
our unfaithfulness to our principles has betrayed int;> the
hands of the Romanist. They are using them all with constant
effect, and we, at least, cannot blame them.
II. I now proceed to explain certain evil princijiles of hu-
man nature which are concurring powerfully in this country to
give currency to popery. These may be called its illicit advan-
tages. I mention :
(1.) The constant tendency of American demagogues to
pay court to popery and to purchase votes for themselves from
it. at the cost of the people's safety, rights and money. Nearly
two generations ago (the men of this day seem to have forgot-
ten the infamy) William H. Seward, of New York, began this
dangerous and dishonest game. He wished to 'be Governor of
New York. He came to an understanding with ArehMshop
Hughes, then the head of the popish hierarchy in that State, to
give him the Irish vote in return for certain sectarian advan-
tages in the disbursement of the State revenues. Neither Rome
nor the demagogues have since forgotten their lesson, nor will
they ever forget it. It would be as unreasonable to expect it
as to expect that hawks will forget the poultry yard. It is the
nature of the demagogue to trade off anything for votes; they
are the breath in the nostrils of his ambition. The popish hier-
archy differs essentfally from the ministry of any other reli-
gion, in having votes to trade. The traditional claim of Rome
is that she has the right to control both spheres, the ecclesiasti-
cal and the political, the political for the sake of the ecclesias-
tical. The votes of her masses are more or less manageable, as
the votes of Protestants are not, because Rome's is a system of
authority as opposed to free thought. Rome instructs the con-
science of every one of her members that it is his religiouys
duty to subordinate all other duties and interests to hers. And
this is a spiritual duty enforceable by the most awful spiritual
sanctions. How can a thinking man afford to disobey the hier-
archv which holds his eternal destiny in its secret fist; so that
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 551
even if they gave liim iu form the essential sacraments, such
as the masis, absolution, and extreme unction, they are able
clandestinely to make them worthless to him, by withholding
the sacramental intention. Hence it is that the majority of
An)erican papists can be voted in "blocks"; and it is virtually
the hierarchy which votes them. The goods are ready bound up
in parcels for traffic witli demagogues. We are well aware that
numerous jMpi'sts will indignantly deny this; declaring that
there is a Romanist vote in this country which is just as inde-
pendent of their priesthood aud as free as any other. Of course
there is. The hierarchy is a very experienced and dextrous
driver. It does not whip in the restive colt'S, 'but humors them
awhile until she gets them well harnessed and broken. But the
team as a whole must yet travel her road, because they have to
'believe it infallible. We assure these independent Romanist
voters that they are not "good 'Catholics"; they must unlearn
thiis heresy of independent thought before they are meet for
the Romanist paradise. Men of secular ambition have always
sought to use the hierarch}' to influence others for their politi-
cal advantage; the example is as old as history. Just as soon
as prelacy was developed in the patritstic church, Roman em-
perors began to purchase its influence to sustain their thrones.
Throughout the Middle Ages, German kaisers and French,
Spanish, and English kings habitually traded with Rome, pay-
ing her dignities and endowments for lier ghoistly support to
their ambitions. Even in this century we have seen the two
Napoleons playing the same game — purchasing for their im-
perialism the support of a priesthood in whose religion they
did not believe. If any suppose that because America is nom-
inally democratic theisame thing will not happen here, they are
thoroughly silly. Some Yankee ingenuity will be invoked to
modify the forms of the traffic, so as to suit American names;
that is all.
Intelligent studentis of church history know that one main
agency for converting primitive Christianity first into prelacy
and then into popery was unlimited church endowments. As
soon as Constantine established Christianity as the religion of
the State, ecclesiastical persoiiis and bodies began to assume the
virtual (and before long the formal) rights of corporations. They
could receive bequests aud gifts of property, and hold them by
552 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
a teuui-e as firm as that of the fee-simple. These spiritual cor-
pui'ations were deathless. Thuis the property they acquired
was all held 'by the tenure of mortmain. When a corporation
is thus empowered to absorb continually, and never to disgorge,
there is no limit to its possible wealth. The laws uf the empire
in the Middle Ages imposed no limitations upon bequeists; thus,
most naturally, monasteries, cathedrals, chapters, and arch-
bishoprics became inordinately rich. At the Reformation they
had grasped one- third of the property of Europe. But Scrip-
ture saith, "Where rhe carcass is, thither the eagles are gath-
ered together." Wealth is power, and ambitious men crave
it. Thus this endowed hierarchy came to be filled by the men
of the greediest ambition in Europe, instead of by humble, self-
denying ])astors; and thus it was that this tremendous money
power, arming itself first witli a spiritual despotism of the
popiish theology over consciences, and then allying itself with
political power, wielded the whole to enforce the absolute dom-
ination of that religion which gave them their wealth. ^\^
wonder human liberty, free thought, and the Bible were to-
gether trampled out of Europe. When the Reformation came,
the men who could think saw that this tenure in mortmain had
'been the fatal thing. Knox, the wisest of them, saw clearly
that if a religious reformation was to succeed in Scotland the
ecclesiastical corporations must be destroyed. They were de-
stroyed, their whole property alienated to the secular nobleis or
to the State (the remnant which Knox secured for religious edu-
cation); and therefore it was that Scotland remained Presbyter-
ian. When our American commonwealths were founded, states-
men and divines understood this great jtrinciple of jurispru-
dence, that no corporate tenure in mortmain, either si)irirual or
secular, is compatible with the liberty of the peoi)le and the
continuance of conistitutional government.
But it would appear that our legislators now know nothing
about that great principle, or care nothing about it. Church in-
stitutions, Protestant and Romanist, are virtually perpetual cor-
porations. Whatever the pious choose to give them is held in
mortmain, and they grow continually richer and richer; they do
not even pay taxes, and there seems no liniir \\\nn\ rheir acquisi-
tions. And last comeis the Supreme Court of the T'nited States,
and under the pretext of construing the law, legislates a new
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 553
law In the famous Walnut-street Cliun-li case, as tliouoh they
desired to ensure both the corruption of religijn and the de-
struction of free government by a second gigantic iucubus of
endowed ecclesiasticism. The new law is virtually this: That
in case any free citizen deems that the gifts of himself or l\\t>
ancestors are usurped for some use alien to the designed trust,
zV s/ia// be the usurper who shall decide the issue. This is, of
course, essentially popish, yet a great Protestant denomination
has been seen hastening to enroll it in its digest of spiritual
laws.* The working of this tendency of overgrown ecclesiatsti-
cal wealth will certainly be twofold: First, to Romanize par-
tially or wholly the Protestant churches thus enriched; and,
secondly, to incline, enable, and equip the religion thus Roman-
ized for its alliance with political ambition and for the subju-
gation of the people and the government. When church bodiers
began, under Constantine, to acquire endowments, these bodies
were Episcopal, at most, or even still Presbyterian. The in-
crease of endowment helped to make them popish. Then jiop-
ery and feudalism stamped out the Bible and enslaved Europe.
If time permitted, I could trace out the lines of causation into
perfect clearness. Will men ever learn that like causes must
l)roduce like effects?
(2.) The democratic theory of human society may be the
most rational and equitable; but human nature is not equita-
ble; it is fallen and perverted. Lust of applause, pride, vain-
glory, and love of power are as natural to it as hunger to the
body. Next to Adam, the most representative man \\\nn\ earth
was Diotrephes, "who loves to have the pre-eminence." Every
man is an aristocrat in his heart. Xow, prelacy and popery are
aristocratic religions. Consecjuently, as long as human naturt^
is natural, they will present more or less of attraction to human
minds. Quite a number of Methodist, Presbyterian, or Inde-
pendent ministers have gone over to prelacy or popery, and
thus become bishopis. Was there ever one of them, however
conscientious his new faith, and however devout his temjtei-,
who did not find some elation and pleasure in his spiritual dig-
nity? Is there a democrat in democratic America who would
not be flattered in his heart by being addressed as "my lord?"
Distinction and power are gratifying to all men. Prelacy and
See* Dabney's Discussions. Vol. 11.. p. ■IQX.
554 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
}»!)I»ei-y offer Mils sweet morsel to aspirants by proiiiisiug to
make some of tliem lords of their brethren. This is enough to
entice all of them, as the crown entices all the racers on the
race-course. It is true that while many run, one obtaineth the
crown; but all may flatter themselves with the hope of win-
ning. Especially does the pretension of sacramental grace offer
the most isplendid bait to human ambition which can be con-
ceived of on this earth. To be the vicar of the Almighty in dis-
I)ensing eternal life and heavenly crowns at will is a more mag-
niflcent power than the prerogative of any emperor on earth.
Let a man .mce be persuaded that he really grasps this power
by getting a i)Iace in the apostolic succession, and the more
sincere he is. the more .splendid the prerogative will appear to
him; for the more clearly his faith appreciates the thing that
he proposes to do in the sacraments, the more illustrious that
thing must appear. The greatest boon ever inherited by an em-
peror was finite. The boon of redemption is infinite; to be able
to dispense it at will to one sinner is a much grander thing than
to conquer the world and establish a universal secular empire.
The humblest "hedge-priest" would be a far grander man than
that emperor if he could really work the miracle and confer the
grace of redemption which Rome says he does every time he
consecrates a mass. How shall we eistimate, then, the great-
ness of that i)0])e or prelate who can manufacture such miracle
workers at will? The greatest being on earth should hardly
think himself worthy to loose his sandals from h'i.s feet. The
Turkish embassador to Paris was certainly right when, upon
accompanying the King of France to high mass in Notre Dame,
and seeing the king, courtiers and multitude all prostrate them-
selveis when the priest elevated the Host, he wondered that the
king should allow anybody but himself to perform that mag-
nificent function. He is reported to have said: "Sire, if I were
king, and believed in your religion, nobody should do that in
France except me. It is a vastly greater thing than anything
else that you do in your royal functions." As long as man is
man, therefore, popery will possess this unhallowed advantage
of enticing, and even entrancing, the ambition of the keenest
aspirants. The stronger their faith in their doctrine, the more
will they sanctify to themselves this dreadful ambition. In
this respect, as in so many others, the tendency of the whole
THE ATTRACTIOlSrS OF POPKRY. 555
eui'i'eiit of Imiiiau nature us to make papists. It is converting
grace only which can check that current and turn men sincerely
'back towards Protestantism. I am well aware that tlie func-
tions of the Protestant minister may be so wrested as to present
an appeal to unhallowed ambition. But popery professes to
confer upon her clergy every didactic and presbyterial function
which Protestautitsm has to bestow; while the former otters, in
addition, this splendid bait of prelatic power and sacramental
miracle-w^orkiug.
(.'?.) All the churches which call themselves Protestant,
even the strictest, now betray the silent influence of those
Komanizing tendencies which have been and are hereafter to be
explained. There is an almost universal letting down of the
old tstandard of doctrine and worship. A comparison of preva-
lent usages of to-day and of seventy years ago in the Methodist,
Baptist, Congregational and Presbyterian Churches (except
those of the Secession) would startle any thinking mind. Ev-
ery one of them now admits usages wliicli were then univer-
sally rejected by them, such as architectural pomps, i)ictui-ed
windows, floral decorations, instrumental and operatic music.
One may say, that these are matters of indift'erence whicli can-
not be proved anti-scriptural; but every sensible man knows
that they proceed from one impulse, the craving for a more
spectacular and ritualistic worship. This is precisely the im-
pulse which brought about prelacy and popery in the patristic
ages. The strictest Protestant communions are now moving
upon the same inclined plane. The descent is gentle, at first,
but as it proceeds it grows steeper; and at the bottom i.s popery.
The prelatic churches of America now notoriously occupy the
middle and advanced parts of this course. Forty years ago,
when things were not near so bad with them as now, the head
of the American popish hierarchy pointed an eminent Presby-
terian divine to a dainty Puseyite clergyman trip})ing t)y, and
said, with a sardonic smile: "Doctor, those are the cattle who
do our plowing for us gratis. They leave us little to do. My
only objection to their work is, that they make their perverts
rather too popish to suit my taste as a Komanist." This Right
Reverend was, of courise, an Irishman. Episcopalians who
teach baptismal regeneration, the real presence, the ajKistolic
succession and such like dogmas, must inevitably propel their
f)5r) THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
impils towards popery. If their favorite doctrines have any
foundation in logic or Scripture, that foundation sustains
I)opery ais fully as prelacy. When one fixes the premises in the
minds of his pupils, he should expect to see them sooner or
later proceed to the logical consequence; as all rivers run to
the ocean, so the ultimate destiny of all high cliurchism is
Kome. These covert educators for popery are more efficient
f;)r evil than the overt ones. I fear thoise who are on the road
to the Eternal City more than those who have fixed their abode
there. This head of my argument is, then, that Romanism is
sure to win in America, because most of those who profess to
be Protestants are really helping her by preparing her way.
<4.) In sundry respect.s I ]»erceive a sort of hallucination
l>revailing in people's minds concerning old historical errors
and abuses, which I see to have been the regular results of hu-
man nature. Men will not understand history; they flatter
themselves that, because the modes of civilization are much
changed and advanced, therefore the essential laws of man's
nature are going to cease acting; which is just as unreasonable
as to expect that sinful human beings must entirely cea.se to be
untruthful, sensual, dishonest, and selfish, because they have
gotten to wear fine clothes. Of certain evils and abuses of an-
cient history men j^erisuade themselves that they are no longer
possible among us. because we have become civilized and nom-
inally Christian. One of these evils is idolatry with its two
'branches, polytheism and image-worship. Oh! they say, man-
kind has outgrown all that; other evils may invade our Chris-
tian civilization, but that is too gross to come back again. They
are blind at once to the teachings of historical facts and to com-
mon sense. They know that at one time idolatry nearly filled
the ancient world. Well, what was the previous religious state
of mankind uj)on wliicli it sujiervened? Virtually a <'liristian
istate, that is to say, a worship of the one true (Jod, under the
light of revelation, with our same gospel taught by jjromises
and sacrifices. And it is very stupid to suppose that the social
state upon which the early idolatry supervened was savage or
barbaric. >Ve rather conclude that the people who built Noah's
ark, the tower of Babel, and the pyramid of CheopiS, and who
enjoyed the light of God's recent revelations to Adam, to Enoch,
to Noah, were civilized. Men make a strange confusion here:
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 557
They faui-y rliar idolatiT could be pi-evaleut because mankind
were not civilized. The histoiical fact is just the opposite:
^lankind became uncivilized because idolatry first prevailed. In
truth, the principles tending to idjlatry are deeply laid in man's
fallen nature. Like a compressed spring, they are ever ready to
act again, and will isurely begin to act, whenever the opposing
power of vital godliness is withdrawn. First, the sensuous has
become too prominent in man; reason, conscience, and faith. r<>(>
feeble. Every sinful man's experience witnesses this all day
long, everj' day of his life. Wh}- else is it that the objects of
sense-perception, which are comparatively trivial, dominate his
attention, his sensibilities, and his desires so much more than
the objects of faith, which he himself knows to be so much more
important? Did not this isensuous tendency seek to invade
man's religious ideas and feelings, it would 'be strange indeed.
Hence, man untaught and unchecked 'by the heavenly light al-
ways shows a craving for sensuous objects of worship. He is
not likely, in our day, to satisfy this craving by setting up a
brazen image of Dagon. the fish, god; or of Zeus, or the Roman
Jupiter; or of the Aztecs' Itzlahuitl. But still he craves a visi-
ble, material object of worship. Rome meets him at a com-
fortable half-way station with her relics, crucifixes, and images
of the saints. She adroitly smoothes the downhill road for him
by connecting all these with the worship of the true God, Again,
man's conscious weakness impels him almost irresistibly in his
serions hours to seek some being of supernatural attributes to
lean upon. His heart cries out, "Lead me to the Rock that is
higher than I." But when pure monotheism proposes to him
the supreme, eternal God — ^infinite not only in his power to help,
but in his omniscience, justice, and holiness — the sinful heart
recoils. This object is too high, too holy, too dreadful for ir.
Sinful man craves a God, but, like his first father, shuns the
infinite God; hence the powerful tendency to invent interme-
diate gods, whom he may persuade himself to be sufficiently
gracious and powerful to be trusted, and yet not so infinite, im-
mutable, and holy as inevitably to condemn sin. Here is the
impulse which prompted all pagan nations to invent polythe-
ism. This they did by filling the space 'between man and the
supreme ibeing with intermediate gods. Such, among the Greeks,
were Bacchus, Hercules, Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Aescula-
pin«. ofr. Tt is a great mistake to suppoise that thoughtful
^58 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
pagans did not recognize the unity and etei-niry of a supreme
God, ''Fatliei' af gods and of men." But sometimes the,y rep-
resent him as so exalted and sublimated as to be at once above
the reach of human prayers and above all concernment in hu-
man affairs. Other.s thought of him as too awful to be directly
approached, accessible only through the mediation of his awn
next progeny, the secondary gods. Here we have precisely the
impulse for which Rome provides in her saint-worship. Mary
is the highest of the intermediate gods, next to the trinity, the
intercessor for Christ's intercession. The apostles and saints
are the secondary gods of this Christian pantheon. How
strangely has God's predestination led Rome in the develop-
ment of her history to the unwitting admission of this indict-
ment I Pagan Rome had her marble temple, the gift af Agrip-
pa to the ('ommonwealth, the Pantheon, or sanctuary of all the
gods. This very building stands now, rededicated by the popes
as the temple of Christ and all the saints. So fateful has been
the force of this analogy between the old polytheism and the
new.
The attempt is made, indeed, to hide the likeness by the so-
phistical distinction between /afrta and dulia; but its wortii-
lesisness appears from this, that even dulta cannot be offered
to redeemed creatures without ascribing to them, by an un-
avoidable implication, the attributes peculiar to God. In one
word, fallen men of all ages have betrayed a powerful tendency
to image-warship and polytheism. Rome provides for that ten-
dency in a way the most adroit possible, for an age nominally
Christian but practically unbelieving. To that tendency the
religion of the Rible sternly refuses to concede anything, re-
quiring not its gratification, but it.s extirpation. This cunning
policy of Rome had sweeping success in the early church. The
same principle won almost universal success in the ancient
world. It will succeed again here. Many will exclaim that this
prognostic is wholly erroneous; that the great, bad tendency of
our age and country is to agnosticism as against all religions.
I am not mistaken. This drift will be as temporary as it is
partial. ^I. Guizot says in his Meditations: "One never need
go far back in history to find atheism advancing half way to
meet superstition." A wiser analyst of human nature say.s:
''Even as thev did not like to retain (rod in their knowledge.
THE ATTRACTIONR OF POPERY. 559
God gave them over to a reprobate mind.'' "Professing them-
selves to be wise, thev became fools, and changed the glory of
the incorruptible Gad into an image made like to corruptible
man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts,, and creeping things."
This is the exact pathology of superstition. When the culture
of the Augustan age taught the Romans to despise the religious
faith of their fathers, there was an interval of agnosticism. But
next, the most refined of the agnostics were seen studying the
mysteries of Isis and practicing the foulest rites of the pagan-
ism of the conquered provinces. Atheism is too freezing a
blank for human souls to inhabit permanently. It outrages too
many of the heart's affections and of the reason's first princi-
ples. A people who have cast away their God, when they diis-
cover this, turn to false gods. For all such wandering spirits
Rome stands with open doors; there, finally, they will see their
most convenient refuge of superstition in a catalogue of Chris-
tian isaints transformed into a polytheism. Thus the cravings
of superstition are satisfied, while the crime is veiled from the
conscience b}' this pretence of scriptural origin.
(5.) I proceed to unfold an attraction of Romanism far
more seductive. This is its proposal to satisfy man'is guilty
heart by a ritual instead of a spiritual salvation. As all know
who understand the popish theology, the proposed vehicle of
this redemption iby forms is the sacraments. Romanists are
taught that the New Testament sacraments differ from those of
the Old Testament in this: that they not only symbolize and
seal, but effectuate grace tx opere operato in the souls of the
recipients. Rome teaches her children that her sacraments are
actual charitsmatic power of direct supernatural efficiency
wrought upon recipients by virtue of a portion of the Holy
Spirit's omnipotence conferred upon the priest in ordination
from the apostolic succession. The Bible teaches that in tlu'
case of all adults a gracious state must pre-exist in order for
any beneficial participation in the sacrament, and that the only
influence of the sacrameutis is to cherish and advance that pre-
existing spiritual life by their didactic effect, as energized by
God's Spirit, through prayer, faith, watchfulness, and obedience,
in precisely the same generic mode in which the Holy Sjtirit en-
ergizes the written and preached word. Hence, if watchfulness,
prayer, obedience, and a life of faith are neglected, our sacra-
o60 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPEIiY.
meuts become uo .sacraments. If thou be a breaker of the law,
tliy "circuincLsiou is made imcircumci.sion." But Rome teacbe.s
that her sacrament.s. duly administered by a priest havin"- apos-
tolic succession, implant spiritual life in souls hitherto dead in
sin, and that they maintain and foster this life by a direct pow-
er not dependent on the recipient's dilioent exercise of goispel
principles. Provided the recipient be not in mortal .sin unab-
solved, the sacrament does its spiritual work upon the sinful
soul, whether it receives it in the exercise of saving grace or
not. (See the article, "Prelacy a Blunder," in Collected Discus-
sions, Vol. II., p. 218.)
Now let no Protestant mind exclaim: "Surely this is too
gross to be popular; surely jieople will have too much sense to
think that they can get to heaven by this species jf consecrated
jugglery I" History shows that thisischeme of redemption is al-
most universally accepta'ble and warmly popular with sinful
mankind. Apprehend aright the ideas of paganism, ancient and
modern: we perceive that this popish conception of sacraments
is virtually the same with the pagan's conception of their heath-
en rites. They claim to 'be just this species of saving ritual,
working their benefit upon souls precisely by this opus opera-
turn agency. What a commentary' have we here upon this tenr
dency of human nature to a ritual salvation. The evangelists
and apostles reintroduced to the world the pure conception of
a spiritual salvation wrought by the energy of divine truth, and
not of church rites; received by an intelligent faith in the saved
man's soul, and not by manual ceremonial; and made effectual
by the enlightening operation of the Holy (ihost upon heart and
mind in rational accordance with truth, not by a priestly incan-
tation working a physical miracle. The gospels and. epistles
defined and separated the two conceptions as plainly as words
could do it. But no ,sooner were the apostles gone than the
pagan conception of salvation by ritual, instead of by rational
faith, began to creep back into the patristic church. In a few
hundred years the wrong conception had triumphed completely
over the correct one in nearly the whole of Christendom, and
thenceforward sacramental grace has reigned supreme over the
whole Roman and Greek communions, in spite of modern let-
ters and culture. How startling this commentary ui)on that
tendency of human nature I Surely there are deep-tseated prin-
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERT. 561
ciples in man tD account for it.
These are not far to seek. First, men are sensuous beings,
and hence thev naturally crave something concrete, material,
and spectacular in their religion. Dominated as they are by a
perpetual current of sensations, and haying their auimalitv ex-
aggerated bv their sinful nature, they are sluggish to think spir-
itual truths, to look by faith upon invisible objects; they i-rave
to walk by sight rather than by faith. The material things in
mammon, the sensual pleasures which they see with their eyes
and handle with their fingers, although they perfectly know
they perish with the using, obscure their view of all the infinite,
eternal realities, notwithstanding their professed belief of them.
Xeed we wonder that with such creatures the visible and man-
ual ritual should prevail over the spiritual didactic? Does one
exclaim, "But this is so unreasonable — this notion that a ritual
ceremonial can change the state and destiny of a rational and
moral spirit!" I reply, ''Yes, but not one whit more irrational
than the preference which the whole natural world gives to the
things which are seen and temporal, as it perfectly knows, over
the things which are unseen and eternal; an insanity of which
the educated and refined are found ju,st as capable as the ig-
norant and brutish." But the other principle of human nature
is still more keen and pronounced in its preference for a ritual
salvation. This is its deep-seated, omnipotent preference for
self-will and sin over spiritual holiness of life. The natural
man has, indeed, his natural cou/science and remorse, his fear-
ful looking for of judgment, his natural fear of misery, which
is but modified selfishness. These make everlasting punishment
very terrible to his apprehension.
But enmity to God, to his spintual service, to the suprem-
acy of his holy will, is as native to him as his selfish fear is.
Next to perdition, there is no conception in the universe so re-
liulsive to the sinful heart of man as that of genuine repentance
and itis fruits. The true gospel comes to him and says: Here
is, indeed, a blessed, glorious redemption, as free as air. as se-
cure as the throne of God, but instrumentally it is conditional
on the faith of the heart; which faith works by love, purifies the
heart, and can only exist as it co-existis with genuine repent-
ance, which repentance turns honestly, unreservedly, here and
now, without shuffling or procrastination, from sin unto God,
562 THE ATTEACTIONS OF POPEEY.
with full purpose of and endeavor after new obedience; which
is, in fact, a complete surrender of the sinful will to God's holy
will, and a hearty enlistment in an arduous work of watchful-
ness, self-denial, and self-discipline, for the sake of inward holi-
ness, to be kept up as long as life lasts. Soul, emTbrace this task,
and this splendid salvation shall be yours; and the gracious
Saviour, who purchases it for you, shall sustain, comfort, and
enable you in this arduous enlistment, so that even in the midst
of the warfare you shall find rest, and at the end heaven; but
without this faith and this repentance no sacraments or rights
will do a particle of good towards your salvation. Now, this
carnal soul has no faith; it is utterly mistrustful and skeptical
as to the possibility of this peace of the heart in the spiritual
warfare, this sustaining power of the in\'iisible hand, of which
it has had no experience. This complete subjugation of self-
will to God, this life of self-denial and vital godliness, appears
to this soul utterly repulsive, yea, terrible. This guilty usoul
dreads hell; it abhors such a life only less than hell. When
told by Protestantism that it must thus "turn or die." this car-
nal soul finds itiself in an abhorrent dilemma; either term of the
alternative is abominable to it. But now comes the theory of
sacramental grace and says to it with oily tongue: "Oh I Prot-
estantism exaggerates the dilemma! Your case is not near so
bad! The sacraments of the church transfer you from the /state
of condemnation to that of reconciliation by their own direct
but mysterious efliciency; they work real grace, though you do
not bring to them this deep, thoroughgoing self-sacrifice and
self-consecratiim. No matter how much you sin, or how often,
repeated masses will make expiation for the guilt of all those
sins ex opere operato. Thus, with her other sacraments of pen-
ance and extreme unction. Holy Mother Church will repair all
your short-comings and put you back into a salvable state, no
matter how sinfully you live." Need we wonder that this false
doctrine is as sweet to that guilty soul as a repiieve to the felon
at the foot of the gallows? He can draw his breath again; he
can say to himself: ^'Ah, then the abhorred dilemma does not
urge me here and now; I can postpone this hated reformation;
I can still tamper with cherished sins without embracing per-
dition." This is a pleasant doctrine; it suits so perfectly the
sinful, selfish soul which does not wish to part with its sins,
and also does not wish to lie down in everlasting burnings.
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPEEY. 563
This deep-seated love of siu aud self has also another re-
sult: The soul is conscious that, if it must do many things
which it does not like in order to avoid perdition, it is much
pleasanter to do a number of ceremonial things than to do any
portion of spiritual heart-work. After I stood my graduate
examination in philosophy at the University of Virginia, my
professor, the venerable George Tucker, showed me a chea ting-
apparatus wliich had been prepared by a member of the class.
He had unluckily dropped it upon the sidewalk, and it had
f nind its way to the professor's hands. It was a narrow blank-
book, made to be hidden in the coat-sleeve. It contained, in
exceedingly small penmanship, the whole course, in the form
of questions from the professor's recitations with their answers
copied from the text-book. It was really a work of much labor.
I said, ''The strange thing to me is, that this sorry fellow has ex-
pended upon this fraud much more hard labor than would have
enabled him to prepare himself for passing honestly and hon-
orably." Mr. Tucker replied, "Ah, my dear sir, you forget that
a dunce finds it easier to do any amount of mere manual drud-
gery than the least bit of true thinking." Here we have an ex-
act illustration. It is less irksome to the carnal mind to do
twelve dozen paternosters tJy the beads than to do a few mo-
ments of real heart-work. Thoughtless people sometimes say
that the rule of Romish piety is more exacting than that of the
Protestant. This is the explanation, that Rome is more exact-
ing as to form and ritual; Bible religion is more exacting as to
spiritual piety and vital godliness. To the carnal mind the lat-
ter are almost insufferably irksome and laborious; the form and
ritual, easy and tolerable. And when remorse, fear, and self-
righteousnesis are gratified by the assurance that these obser-
vances really promote the soul's salvation, the task is made
light. Here Rome will always present an element of popularity
as long as mankind are sensuous and carnal.
(0.) To a shallow view, it might appear that the popish doc-
trine of purgatory should be quite a repulsive element of un-
popularity with sinners; that doctiine is, that notwithstanding
all the benefit of the church's sacraments and the believer's ef-
forts, no Christian soul goes direct to heaven when the body
dies, except thoise of the martyrs, and a few eminent siiints, who
are, as it were, miracles of sanctification in this life. All the
564 THE attraOtions of popery.
clergy, and even the popes, must go through purgatory in spite
of the apostolic succession and the infallibility. There the re-
mains of carnality in all must be burned away, and the deficien-
cies of their penitential work in this life made good, by endur-
ing penal fires and torments for a shorter or longer time. Then
the Christian souls, finally purged from depravity and the rea-
urn paenae, enter into their final rest with Christ. But the
alms, prayers, and masses of survivons avail much to heli3 these
'Christian souls in purgatory and shorten their sufferings. It
might be supposed that the Protestant doctrine should be much
more attractive aud popular, viz.: that there is no purgatory or
Intermediate state for the spirits of dead men, but that the
"souls of believers, being at their death made perfect in holi-
ness, do immediately enter into glory.'' This ought to be the
more attractive doctrine, and to Bible believers it is such, but
there is a feature about it which makes it intensely unpopular
and repellent to carnal men, and gives a powerful advanrage
witli them to the popish scheme. That feature is, the sharpness
and strictness of the alternative which the Bible doctrine press-
es upon sinners: "turn or die."
The Bible offers the most blessed and glorious redemption
conceivable by man, gracious and free, and bestowing a con-
summate blessedness the moment the body dies. But it is on
these terms that the gospel must be embraced by a penitent
faith, working an honest and thorough revolution in the life. If
the sinner refuses this until this life ends, he seals his fate; aud
that fate is final, unchangeable, and dreadful. Now, it is no
consolation to the carnal heart that the gospel assures him he
need not run any risk of that horrible fate; that he has only
to turn and live; that very turning is the thing which he ab-
hors, if it is to be done in spirit and in truth. He intensely de-
sires to retain his sin and self-will. He craves earnestly to put
oft" the evil day of this sacrifice without incurring the irrepara-
ble penalty. Now, Rome comes to him and tells him that this
Protestant doctrine is unnnecessarily harsh; that a sinner may
continue in the indulgence of his sins until this life ends, and
yet not seal himself up thereby to a hopeless hell; that if he
is in communion with the Holy Mother Church through lier
sacraments, he may indulge himself in this darling procrastina-
tion without ruining himself forever. Thus the hateful neces-
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 565
sity t>f present repentance is postponed awhile; sweet, precious
privilege to the sinner! True, he must expect to pay due pen-
ance for that self-induloeuce in purgatory, but he need not per-
ish for it. The Mother Church advises him not t3 make so bad
a bargain and pay so dear for his whistle. But she assures him
that, if he does, it need not ruin him, for ishe will pull liim
through after a little by her merits and sacraments. How con-
soling this is to the heart at once in love with sin and remorse-
ful for its guilt I The seductiveness of this theory of redemp-
tion to the natural heart Is proved by this grand fact, that in
principle and in its essence this scheme of purgatorial cleans-
ing has had a prominent place in every religion in the world
that is of human invention. The Bible, the one divine religion,
is peculiar in rejecting the whole concept. Those hoary reli-
gions, Brahmanism and Buddhism, give their followers the vir-
tual advantage of this conception in the transmigration of their
souls. The guilt of the sinner's human life may be expiated by
the sorrows of the soul's existence in a series of animal or rep-
tile bodies, and then through another human existence, the
penitent and purified soul may at last reach heaven. Classic
paganism promised the same escape for sinners, as all familiar
with Virgil know. His hero, Aeneas, when visiting the under
world, saw many sinners there preparing for their release into
the Elysiau fields, ^fo^o extrcentur poenis, et veterum malorum
supplicia expendunt. Mohammed extends the same hope to all
his sinful followers. For [hose who entirely reject Islam there
is nothing but hell; but for all who profess 'There is no Ciod
but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet," there is a purgatory
after death, and its pains are shortened by his intercession. The
Roman and Greek Churches flatter the sinful world with the
same human invention. So strong is this craving of carnal men
to postpone the issue of turning to God or perishing. ^A'e now
see its effect upon the most cultured minds of this advanced
nineteenth century in the New England doctrine of a "second
probation." Ronu' has understood human nature skilfully, and
has adapted her bait for it with consummate cunning. Her
scheme is much more acute than that of the absolute universal-
ist of the school of Hosea Ballou, for this outrages man's moral
intuitions too grossly by rejecting all distinction between
guilt and righteousness. This bait for sin-loving men is too
bald.
566 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY.
It must be added that the doctrine of a purgatory and of
an application 3f redemption after death is intensely attractive
to other principles of the human heart, much more excusable;
to some affections, indeed, which are amiable. I allude to the
solicitude and the affection of believers for the souls of those
whom they loved in this life, "whD died and made no sign." The
Bible doctrine is. indeed, a solemn, an awful one to Christians
bereaved by the impenitent deaths of children and relatives.
It is our duty to foresee this solemn result, and to provide
against it by d:)ing everything which intercessory prayer, holy
example and loving instruction and entreaty can d3 to prevent
such a catastrophe in the case of all those near to our hearts.
But human self-indulgence is prone to be slack in employing
this safeguard against this sorrow. Let us picture to ourselves
such a bereaved Christian, sincere, yet partially self-condemned,
and doubtful or fearful or hopeless concerning the thorough
conversion of a child who has been cut down by death. Of all
the elements of bereavement none is so bitter, so immedicable,
as the fear that he whom he loved must suffer the wrath of
God forever, and that now he is beyjnd reach of his prayers
and help. To such a one comes the Romish priest with this
species of discourse. See now how harsh and cruel is this here-
tical Protestant dogma I Instead of offering consolation to
your Christian sorrow it embitters it as with a drop of hell fire.
But Holy Mother Church is a mild and loving comforter; she
assures you that yaur loved one is not necessarily lost; he may
have to endure keen penances in purgatory for a time, but there
is a glorious hope to sustain him and you under tliem. Every
minute of pain is bringing the final heaven nearer, and the most
blessed part of our teaching is that your love can still follow
him and help him and bless, as it was wont to do under those
earthly chastisements of his sins. It is your privilege still to
pray for him. and your prayers avail to lighten his sufferings
and to shorten them. Your love can still find that generous
solace which was always so sweet to you amidst yttur former
sorrows for his sins and his earthly sufferings — the solace of
helping him and sharing his pains. Your alms also may avail
for him: masses can be multiplied by your means, which will
make merit to atone for his penitential guilt and hasten his
blessed release. Who can doubt that a loving heart will be
THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 567
powerfully seduced by this promise, provided it can persuade
itself of its certaiuty, or even of its probable truth? Here is
the stron<;h3ld of Romanism on sincere, amiable, and affection-
ate souls. Of course, the real question is, whether any pastor or
priest is authorized by God to hold out these hopes to the be-
reaved. If they are unwarrantable, then this presentation is an
artifice of unspeakable cruelty and profanity. Under the pre-
tence of softening: the pain of bereavement to God's children, if
is adding to wicked deception the most mischievous influences
upon the living by contradicting those solemn incentives to im-
mediate repentance which God has set up in his word, and by
tempting deluded souls with a false hope to neglect their real
opportunity. If the h3pe is not grounded in the word of God,
then its cruelty is equal to its deceitfulness. But the sutt'ering
heart is often weak, and it is easier to yield to the temptation
of accepting a deceitful consolation than to brace itself up to
the plain but stern duty of ascertaining God's truth.
I have thus set in array the influences which Rome is now
wielding through )ut our country for the seduction of human
souls. Some of these weapons Protestants put into her hands by
their own unfaithfulness and folly. God has a right to blame
Rome for using this species of weapon in favor of the wrong
cause, but these Protestants have not.
There is another class of weapons which Rome finds in the
iblindness and sinfulness of human nature. Her guilt may be
justly summed up in this statement: That these are precisely
the errors and crimes of humanity which the church of Christ
should have labored to suppress and extirpate; whereas Rome
caters to them and fosters them in order to use them for her
aggrandizement. Rut none the less are these weapons potent.
They are exactly adapted to the nature of fallen man. As they
always have been successful, they will continue to succeed in
this country. Our republican i-ivil constitutions will prove no
adequate shield against them. Our rationalistic culture, by
weakening the authority of God's word, is only opening the way
for their ulterior victory. Our scriptural ecclesiastical order
will be no sufficient bulwark. The primitive churches had that
liulwark in its strongest Presbyterian form, but poi)ery steadily
undermined it. What if did once it can do again. There will
be no effectual check upon another spread of this error except
the work of the Holy Ghost. True and powerful revivals will
save American Protestantism; nothing else will.
THE INFLUENCE OF FALSE PHILOSOPHIES
UPON CHAKACTER AND CONDUCT.'
Tboughrful men who read the vai'ious st-hools of philosophy
are struck with one feature common to the erroneous theories.
This is the Icfh' assumption bv their authors of complete irre-
sponsibility for results. Let the corollaries of their positions
be destructive to either ethics or theology, that does not con-
cern them. They say, philosophy has its supreme rights, let
them prevail, whatever else perishes. This, of course, clearly
implies the cool assumption by each author that his philosoph}'
is the al)solutely true one; which again implies that he believes
himself infallible in it. Yet each contradicts the sound phil-
osophers, and also each of his fellow heretics. Schwegler dis-
dains all the great scholastics, pronouncing them incapable jf
real philosophy, because they avowed the supremacy of the
Roman theology over all speculation. He evidently knows lit-
tle about them, or he would have been aware how little their
license of philosophic speculation was really curbed by pre-
tended respect for Bible, councils, or popes. They could al-
ways evade their restraints by their distinction — that what was
theologically true, might yet be philosophically false.
Xow it is as plain as common sense can make it, that if
there are any propositions of natural theology logically estab-
lished, if any principle of ethics impreguably grounded in man's
universal, necesisary judgments, if any infallible revelation, any
philosophy that conflicts with either of the.se is thereby proven
false. Xow, I believe there is an infallible revelation. There-
fore, unless I am willing to become infidel, the pretended phil-
osopher who impinges against revelation has no claim on me to
be even listened to, much less believed; unless he has proved
himself infallible. There are also fundamental moral principles
supported by the universal experience and consent of mankind,
and regulating the laws of all civilized nations in all ages. All
1 Appeared in Homiletic Review, January, 1896. 568
THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 569
human history and God's Word testify, moreover, that the dom-
imincj^ of these moral principles is the supreme end for which
the universe exists, and for which Providence rules (read But-
ler's ''Analogy"). The rule of God's final judgment is to be:
everlasting goiod to the righteous, condemnation to the wicked.
Here then is a criterion, as firmly estaiblished as the founda-
tiofUiS of human reason and the pillars of God's throne. He who
discards this criterion makes man a reasonless 'brute, and the
world an atheistic chaos; that man has no longer any right to
any philosophy, any more than a pig. For has he not discarded
the essential conditions of all philosophy, intuitive reasons in
man, and rational order in the series of causes and effects? We
may, therefore, safely adopt this criterion as a touchstone for
every philosophy — that if it unsettles cionscience and God, it is
erroneous.
I have now brought my reader to the eminent point of view
from which he sees that the real tendency of all false philosophy
must, in the end, be against good morals and religion. Lord
Bac«n has nobly said that all the lines of true philosophy con-
verge upward to God. The ethical criterion, which is the final,
supreme rule of God, mankind, and the universe, must be the
apex of a true philosophy. The philosophic lines which curve
aside from God and right morals must therefore, in the end,
pervert character and conduct.
I shall be told that many speculators, whose philosophy I
hold wrong, lived better lives, perhaps, than mine. A Spinoza,
a Fichte, a Littre, a Stuart Mill, a Tyndall, were virtuous men;
even Helvetius was an amiable neighbor, and an honest fiscal
officer. Granted. Again, they resent my conclusion, as a big-
ot's insult, and a tyrannical ^bond upon philosophic freedom of
thought. I reply: Nobody has any freedom rightfully to think
against God and righteousness. I reply again: I have assert-
ed this evil tendency, as only a tendeaicy, in many, not always
a present result. Personally, I am glad to give full credit to the
goiod character of individual opponents. Again, the virtues of
these errorists were really the fruits of the side influences and
social habitudes of the very religion and philosophy which they
tried to discard. Spin6za was reared by Jewish parents under
monotheism and the ten commandments. Fichte, like Kant,
was a candidate for the Lutheran ministry. Tyndall and Dra-
570 THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
per were both sons of pious mou-conformist ministers in Eng-
land. But tlie real question is: What of the moral influence
of their philosophies on the untrained and ignorant masses?
Lastly, whatever the civic virtue of these gentlemen, none of
them ever pretended to spiritual .sanctity; wliicli is the higher
and only immortal phase of virtue. The character which re-
gards man, the less, but disregards God, the greater, can not
be wholly sound, and can not retain its partial soundness per-
manentlj'. This is the inspired argument; and it is a fortiori:
"A son honareth his father, and a servant his master; if
then I be a father, where is mine honor? and if I be a master,
where is my fear? saith the Lord of hosts unto you, O prieS'ts,
that despise my name" (Mai. i. 6).
I. A question concerning the influence of a false philoso-
jtliy may be tried historically. Here are the facts. The national
philosophy of China is that of Confucius, which, we are told,
is simply modern agnosticism. The civil administration of
China, and the domestic morals, are rotten with corrujjtion.
Lying, oi)ium drunkenness, cruelty, bribery, cheating, infanti-
cide are current. India has a great and ancient philosophy —
pantheism. Her religions, Brahmanism and Buddhism, are
pantheistic. When the British went there, despotism, bribery,
polygamy, the suttee, infanticide, ofiicial plunderiugs, lying,
and cheating were prevalent institutions. Oaths in court count-
ed for nothing at all in administering justice. Thuggism was
a religion. In Greece, the sounder philosophy was supplanted
by that of the E})icureans, Sophists, Skeptics, and the New
Academy. Then the glory departed, and Greece ^became vile
enough for her slavery. Then Roman virtue also died, and a
vast moral rottenness brought on the ''decline and fall' of the
empire. In the eighteenth century, France adopted the sensu-
alist philosophy of Voltaire, and the selfish ethics of Helvetius.
The fruit was the Keign of Terror. In Russia, the Nihilism of
Bakunin is a philosophy, that, namely, of materialism and ag-
nosticism; its products are anarchy, i»rostitution, and assas-
sination. The same philosophy has shown us the same fruits
in Paris. New York, and Chicago. Lastly, everybody sorrow-
fully admits the decadence of political, commercial, and domes-
tic virtue in this country. We need not detail the melancholy
instances, or paint the contrast between the Americans of to-
THE INFLUElSrCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 571
day and the America of Monroe and J. Q. Adams. Since the
hitter epocli, the philosophy of Conite, Stuart Mill, and Darwin
haiS been rapidly gaining ground.
Shall I be told that these are only chance coincidences and
nor causal sequences? According to the inductive lagic, se-
quences so regularly recurring raise a strong probability, if not
a certainty, of a true causal relation. Again, could instances
be adduced of the reverse order, where the incoming lof a true
l)hil(Ksop'hy resulted in a decay of morals, our opponents might
have some offset to our facts: but there are no such cases.
II. And I now proceed to shiow that the sequences are
causal, by disclosing in these false philosophies obvious causes
of corruption.
Here an important fact should be brought forward. ]\Ian's
moral nature is diseased. Some perversion of will is inherited
by every man. Hence, farther moral decay is natural and easy;
while the ascent back toward a higher virtue is arduous. Hu-
man souls are like a loaded train upon a down grade, whose
slight inclination, below the horizioutal, increaises as it advances.
The natural tendency of the train is to descend slowly at first,
then with accelerated speed toward the final crash. A good
brake (a true philosophy) is quite efficient to keep the train sta-
tionary; thus much of good it can do. But the 'best brake can
not push the train upgrade, while a false lone, failing to lock
the wheels, insures the descent and ruin of the train. Divine
grace furnishes the omly sure power for driving the train up-
ward against nature.
I know that it is the trick of all erroneous philosophies to
(miit or deny this natural evil qualifying the moral disposition
of man; tio pretend not to see it, to philosophize as though right-
eouisness were as natural to man as sin is. To this arrogancy
I shall not yield am inch. As a philosophic analysis, it is false;
it dishonestly refuses to see a fact in human nature as plain
and large as any other fact in psychology. This evil disposition
now qualifying man's essentia is as clearly proved as any other
fundamental instinct, faculty, lor appetency. How do they find
out that man, unlike the i)ig or the ox, is an esthetic creature?
In the very same way, were they consistent, they should find
out that he is by nature a sinning creature. All human experi-
ence, all expedients of legislation, all history, every candid con-
572 THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
sciousness, confirm it. I say, therefore, plainly, that I shall
postulate, throughout this discussion, this tendency in man
toward moral decadence. It is a fact, and my argument shall
be that eA-ery dogma in theology, philosophy, politics, or busi-
ness, which lifts off the soul any form of moral restraint, tends
to moral corruption. Let us see whether each of these false
philosophies does not abolish some moral check.
The key-note of Buddhism is, that since feeble man's pur-
suit of the rjibjects of his appetencies results in failure and pain,
his true virtue is to annihilate all appetencies, and thus win
nirvana. Then, of cour-se, not only the animal, but the social ap-
petencies— ^sympathy, benevolence, pity, friendship, conjugal,
filial, and even parental love — must be expunged out of the
philosopher's soul in order to make him holy, forsooth! For
the appetencies set in motion by these affections are the occa-
sions of far the deepest and most pungent grief?; of human ex-
istence. That is to say: the Buddhist saint, in order to be per-
fect, must make himself a cold, inhuman villain, recreant to ev-
ery social duty. Such, indeed, their own history makes their
chief "hero of the faith.'' Prince Gautama, who begins his saint-
ship by absconding like a coward, and forsaking all his duties
to his wife, his son, his concubines, his parents, and his subjects.
But they say he afterward showed sublime altruism by offering
his body to be eaten by a hungry tigress, which had not suc-
ceeded in torturing and devouring enough antelopes to make
milk for her cubs. Bah I methinks he would have done better
to care for his own deserted human cub I
Once more, the scheme founds itself on an impossibility,
^[an can not by his volition expunge native appetencies, be-
cause these furnish the only springs of volitions. Can the child
be its own father? Eating results in dyspepsia; therefore, not
only cease eating absolutely, but cease being hungry. That is
the recipe for the distress of dyspepsia! But first, it i.s impos-
sible; second, were it done, all mankind would be destroyed in
a few weeks. Common sense says that when a man goes to pro-
fessing the impossible he begins to be a cheat. And this is the
practical trait of Buddhism.
They say the doctrine of transmigration is a great moral
check, teaching the Hindus to avoid sin by the fear of migrating
at death into some more miserable animal form. Is it not a
THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 673
better check to teach them that at death they will at ouce staud
in judgment before an all-wise, just, and almighty Judge? May
not that Buddhist doctrine also frequently incite living men to
the fiercest brutality to animals, by the supposition that those
animals are now animated by the souls of hated enemies?
The pantheism of China, India, and the modems has com-
mon moral features. And the fatal influences are so plain that,
while they are of vast and dreadful importance, they may be
despatched in few words.
Then, first, when I act, it is God acting. You must not
cDudemn me, whatever villainies I act, because that would be
condemning God! Second, whatever men and devils act is but
God acting. Then where is the possibility of God's having, in
himself, any rational standard of right, by which to condemn
our sins? Does God's will in himself judge and condemn his
same will emitted in our actions? Or can that will be any
moral standard at all which is thus self-contradictory? Such
a moral ruler would be worse for the pulpit, than none at all —
atheism less confusing and corrupting than pantheism. Third,
God's existence and actions are necessary, if any actions are;
but God acting, I have no free agency. But if not a free agent,
I can not be justly accountable. Fourth, God is an abs9lute
unit and unchangeable being, eternal and necessary. There-
fore, if all happiness and misery in creatures are, at bottom,
God's own affections, there can be no real difference between
happiness and misery (Spinoza's own corollary). What will be
the effect of this inference upon that excellent quality, mercy?
The dogma must breed indifference ta others' suffering, as much
as stoicism under one's own. Its tendency is toward a hard-
heartedness as pitiless as the tiger, the fire, and the tempest.
Fifth, if God is all, there is but one substance in the universe.
All other seeming personal beings are modal manifestations of
the One. Hence, each creature is but a temporary phenomenon,
a wavelet upon this ocean of being. Death, therefore, is a re-
absorption into the One. It is nirvana, the absolute, eternal
extinction of personality and consciousness — thus all panthe-
ists. Then for this other reason there can be no personal re-
sponsibility, or reward, or punishment in the future. All the
moral restraints of the doctrine of future judgment are as much
swept away as by atheism.
574 THE INFLtlENCE Of MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
We must be brief. Hartinanu and Schopenhauer have
shown that idealistic pantheism must lead to pessimism. But
all our new-fangled philosophies seem to think pessimism a
very naughty thing. It is their favorite bad word, with which
to pelt a Calvinist, a conservative, or an3' other wh^m they di.>-
like — to cry: "Oh. he is a pessimist!" But seriously, is pessim-
ism a hopeful or healthv outlook for a good man? What room
does it leave for the tria of supreme virtues: faith, hope, and
charity? On this head it is enough to name the charge, often
and justly made against the Darwinian doctrine of the "su?-
vival of the fittest/' and the fated extinction of the naturally
weaker; that it tends to produce a pitiless hardheartedness. Tbe
inference is logical; look and see.
The old saw, "'Extremes meet," was never truer than it is
of pantheism and atheism. The latter says: "There is no Gad
at all"; the former: "Everything is God." But the moral re-
sults of both are closely akin. In this, my indictment includes
genuine Darwinism; for there is now no doubt that Dr. Darwin,
like his most consistent pupils, Haeckel, Buchner, etc.. believ-
ed that the doctrine ought to exclude both spirit and Gad. Their
logic is consistent; for if all teleology is 'banished out of na-
ture, and if that in man which thinks, feels, and wills is but an
evolution of brute impulses, inherent in sensorial matter, there
is no spiritual substance. We must have materialistic monism.
Then every moral restraint arising out of the expec-
tation of future responsibility, rewards, and punish-
ments, is utterly swept awa}'. Whj^ should men conclude
anything but. "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we dieV""
To borrow Carlyle"s rough phrasing: "If mine is a pig's
destiny, why may I not hold this -pig philosophy"?" Again,
if I am but an animal refined by evolution. I am entitled to
live an animal life. Why not? The leaders in this and
the sensualistic philosophy may themselves be restrained by
their habits of mental culture, social discretion and personal
refinement (for which they are indebted to reflex Christian
influences); but the herd of common mortals are not cultured
and refined, and in them the doctrine will bear its deadly
fruit.
Our opponents say that they can discard these jld-fash-
ioned restraints of theologic superstitions, and apply better and
THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 675
more refined checks upon the coarser vices, Aiz., by showing- men
that the refined pleasures of temperance, esthetic tastes, cul-
ture, and altruism are higher and sweeter than the coarse plea-
sures of vice; and that the two classes are incompatible, so that
the lower should be sticrificed for the higher. Yes; the world
has known of that subterfuge from the days lof Epicurus; and
Imows its worthlessness. Here is the fatal reply; and its logic
is plain enough to 'be grasped by the coarsest: '^porcus de grege.
Epicuri cute bene curataP Refined Mr. Epicurus, it depends
entirely upon each man's natural constitutional tastes which
ckiss of pleasures shall be to him highest and sweetest. You
say that to you music, art, letters are such; you were born so.
I am so born that these are but "•caviare'' to me, while my best
pleasures are gluttony, drink, lust, gambling, and prize-fights.
The philosopher is answered.
Little space remains to me for unmasking the e\il tenden-
cies of other sensualistic, expediency, and utilitarian i>hiloso-
phies. The reader must take hints. Their common key-note is :
no a priroi, common, ruling intuitions of necessary, rational
truths, either logical or moral. Nihil in intellectu quod non
prius in sensu. Very well! Neither spirit nor God is cognized
by any sense-faculty. Therefore, philosophy should Icnow noth-
ing about either, b^econdly, the concept of the moral good, or
virtuousness in actions, is not cognized by any sense-faculty. Is
it seen as a fine color, smelled as a perfume, heard with the
ears as a harmony, tasted with the mouth as a savor, felt with
the fingers as satin or velvet? No. Then philosophy should
know nothing at)out it. It should say there are no such things
in the soul as distinctly ethical feelings; nothing but sensitive
ones and their combinations. For mind can only feel as it sees;
where it sees nothing it should feel nothing. Then there are
two results; there is no science of ethics, nothing but a psych-
ology of sensibilities, which being merely personal, there is no
source for any altruism; it is a silly fiction. And, next, since
the sensibilities are only moved by objective causes, there is
no free agency. Look and see. Hume was logical in 'becom-
ing fatalist and atheist. So Hobbes, the father of modern sen-
sualism.
Finally, there is a modem class of professed religionists
who seem to regard Mill, Darwin, Spencer, and Huxley as very
576 THE INFLtlENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
apostles of philosophy (wh^-, we know not); and when thereaf-
ter proclaiming- their agnosticism, add, that they still leave
i-oom for religion; that while religion has no stauding-grr>nnd
in philosiophy, she may be admitted in the sphere of feeling.
Our pious neighbors are very thankful! This is the "advanced
thought" destined to sweep everything before it; and we are
so grateful that it still leaves us a corner for our dear religion!
But common sense says: "Thank you for nothing, Messrs. Ag-
noistics. You have not left any comer for our precious religion.
Better speak out as honest atheists. The universal law of mind
is that it can only feel normally as it sees intelligently. ^Yhere
there is no logical ground for credence, there should be no
source for feeling."
In trutli, they let me keep my religion at the price of turn-
ing fool!
THE SAN MARCOS RIVER.
Mysterious river! whence thy bidden source?
The rain drops from far-distant field and fell.
Urging through countless paths their darkling course.
Combine their tiny gifts thy flood to swell.
What secrets hath thy subterranean stream
Beheld; as it has bathed the deepest feet
Of everlasting hills, which never beam
Of sun or star or lightning's flash did greet?
Over what cliffs rushed rhou in headlong fall
Into some gulf of Erebus so deep
Thy very foam was black as midnight's pall;
And massive roof of rock and mountain steep
Suppressed thy thunders, so that the quick ears
Of fauns recumbent on its lofty side
Heard not: and grass blades, laden with the tears
Of night dews, felt no quiver from thy tide?
Through days and weeks, uncounted by the sun,
Thy waters in abysmal caves have lain
In slow lustration, ere they sought to run
Forth to the day, purged from earth's least stain.
Pallas- Athene of the i-ivers, thou!
Who leapest adult in thy glittering might
From yonder hoary mountain. Zeus' brow.
Whose cloven crags parted to give thee light.
Thou teachest us. wise virgin; as through caves,
Sad and tear-dropping, steal thy sobbing waves,
Then flash to day; so virtue's weeping night
Shall surely break into the dawn's delight.
Emblem, thou, of maiden's love.
Buried deep in modest heart;
Growing there to secret strength.
Hiding, swelling, till at length
Its Lord's caresses bid it start
To life and joy! Then forth it springs.
Circling glad in radiant rings;
Bliss and fruitfulness it brings.
Naiad bright, so deckest thou
With wedding wreaths thy shining brow.
Trailing ever verdant bands
Of fern and lily; as the lands
Thou weddest with thy close embrace,
In thy laughing, seaward race.
578 THE SAN MARCOS RIVER.
Or dost tliou tell us of a sterner tbeiue?
How souls of heroes, like thy forceful stream.
Are bred and nursed in silence and the night.
Fed from the rills of secret pra.ver; their mi.ght
Recruited iu grim strife with foes concealed:
rntil. in fearful hour, the earthquake shock.
Of war. or civic crisis, cleave the rock.
Then, startling foe and friend, they move revealed
In beauty terrible, as pure as strong:
But seek the ocean of eternity
(Too soon, alas!) to which their names belong.
Oh. flood! though earth-born, thou dost seek the sky,
And this is thy prime lesson: On our tomb
Our resurrection waits: our souls shall fly
To heaven's sunlight from its blackest gloom.
This is the highest, this the noblest hope,
To publish which thy secret caverns ope.
THE DEATH OF MOSES, i
The .am stood flaming o'er the western deep.
Dyeiii.u' its tri)!tj;s of fliuds and purple plain
With red and liold: while up the lower steep
Of Neho. stole the slanting- shade, to gain
His naked brow. Then c-ame there up to meet
The evening rays a reverend man. with step
Sedate, but grand: and sncadfast eyes' which greet
The opposing sun. mournful, yet strong to face
His tierces.t beams. His loeks and beard are white
As Hermon's erest. whieh props the northward sky:
Yet limb and feature move instim-t with might
Of manhood, and the soul that doth nor die.
On topmost height - he pauses, pedestal meet
For Israel's Prophet King, the goodliest man
Earth ever saw. since Adam from his seat
Reviewed his Paradise. Thus, he to scan
The scene stood long, then spake:—
"The heritage
To Abram pledged^ 1 see: oh goodly land.
To which our Patriarchs turned from age to age
With longing faith, to which my guiding hand
Hath led the ffribes. as sires* their infant charge.
For forty weary years, through burning sands.
• Thy face how grand, thy boundaries, how large!
Not like those pastures where we wore the bonds
Of our disgrace, parched with torrid heats.
Or drenched 3 with turbid floods. But thoji dost drink 6
From crystal founts that hold their airy sea'ts
In Heaven, fed from old ocean's farthest brink.
Thy features how harmonious., yet sublime!
Northward a wall of green, whose summits pierce
The lofty heavens. I see: but ere they climb
Into the clouds, put on a robe diverse.
Can earth-born things assume a garb so pure?
How do blacK scar, and tawny peak outvie
The fairest tints of doudland. yet endure.
I'nmoved amid their change, the while the sky
Doth ki.<.s the earth! 'Tis Hermon clad^ in snow.
Celestial raiment, woven of frozen dew.
1 Appeared in Union Hem'Tiary Magazine
IDuet. 34:7. 2 Duet. :?:27. 3 Gen. 17:8. 4 Duet. 1:31. 5 Duet. ll:lii
6 Duet. 11:1], 7Jer. 18:14.
580 THE DEATH OF MOSES.
(A sight which swelteriu.y Egypt could not know)
In awful beauty, here mine eye doth view.
The Giant preacheth to thee, Oh, my soul!
Thus must God's robe of heavenly righteousness.
Blood-washed, rhiue earthly soil of sin enroll.
Ere thou cans't soar and meet the skies in peace.
This side the mighty ramparts' foot, behold
The upper lake, mid its encircling hills.
Gleams like n mirror, which enameted gold
Binds with its rim. Here Jordan lights
His verdant vale with many a sinuous coil.
Beyond, hills rise and fertile valleys spread
And plains expand, teeming^ with wine and oil
And plenteous corn; whose glittering streams are fed
From springs perennial, mounts like billowy waves
Which winter's breath congealed e'en as they rose,
I see; within whose veins and darkling caves
Lie riches, matching what their fields enclose.
Iron and ruddy brass - Here, at my feet.
Sheer down two thousand cubits, sullen sleeps
The lake of doom, (hemmed in by borders meet
Of savage crags and thunder riven lieap.s)
Above the accursed cities of the plain.
Beyond those ridges spreads an azure band.
Which shows us where old ocean doth restrain
The western margin of the utmost land.
Here is thy hame, Oh Israel! here thy rest.
In these green vales thy dwelling thou shalt plant.
And on these swelling hills thy God hath blest.
Here shalt thou guard the holy covenant
I gave you, taught by future line of seers;
While peace shall multiply thy teeming seed
To fill the land, until the promised tears
Of Shiloh ^ come; whose hand divine shall lead
Your hosts, and wield at once my kingly rod.
The Prophets crook, and Aaron's censer lit
With heavenly flame; and shed that awful blood
(Which meaner S:treams where e'er our altars sit.
Dimly foreshadow,) that shall cleanse the world.
From yonder hills, with Israel's temple crowned.
Messiah's flag of peace shall be unfurled.
While earths remotest nations gather round
To catch his gospel light, and learn* his ways.
The Sun of Righteousness shall, on that hill.
Hold his fixed zenith, and from thence his rays
With light and holiness and peace shall fill
All gentile lands, the foul and bloody seat
1 Duet. 11:14-9. -' Duet. 8:9. 3 Gen. 49:10. 4 Isaiah I'Sl-A. Lsa. 62:10.
THE DEATH OF MOSES. 581
Of the usurper Satan. Israel's race,
Nation of Pri<?sts5. shall lead their willing feet
And cleansed hearts to seek Jehovah's face. '
All lands'^ shall Canaan's be, and this our home
Again the Paradise of God. But I,
Such his decree7! I must not hope to come
To that good land; but look, and long, and die!
Would it were mine (can mortals' hearts suffice
To check the wish?) to lead my people still
In this, the crisis of their great emprise
To prosperous ends, and so my charge fulfil.
Across the .stream, yon cityi of the Palms
Pollutes its goodly seat with noisome sin.
I hear its trumpets blow their loud alarms;
Its saucy warriors with defiant din
Insult the air, and crowd the hither wall
Like moiling ants; the blazonrj- of hell,
Inscribed on streamers, flags, and pennons tall.
Likeness of Molock, Ashtaroth and Belle,
And Dagon, Scaly God, affronts the skies.
Thrusting incarnate fiends, who personate
Murder and brutisli lust, blaspheming lies.
And rites obscene, into the holy state
Of our Jehovah. L a dying man.
Uenounct? your doom of death. Ea^'th could nut beat-
The sins of Sodom longer, which out-ran
God's longest patience — yours beyond compare
Exceed your fathers'. See their ghastly tomb
Beneath you bitter waves, whose funeral stroke
Measures the tread of your approacliing doom.
Fain would I live to see those ramparts broke;
To head those martial hosts I taught to tame
The rage of Sihou and of Bashan's king.
Jehovah'sS banner, folds of cloiul and flame.
Should be the topmost sky their terrors fling.
My great Lieutenant! and my dog5 of war.
Jephunneh's stalwart son, would I unlash.
My trumpets' summons, Israel's fierce hurrah.
And chai'ge resis,tless, should these bulwarks dasli
Like flim.s.y shreds away; whose wrecks should be
Defiled graves forever for God's foes.
Or if such moments must not come to me.
In which the joy of battle overflows
The hero's spirit, there were calm delights
.5 Exod. 19:6. «i Ps 7:2:11. 7 Duet ;^:23-:2il. Num. 20:8-12.
1 Joshua 6:1. 2 Gen. 18:20. oh. lit:24. 3 E.xod. 13:21. Exod. 17:15. 4 Duet.
34:9. .5 Caleb means do^.
582 THE DEATH OF MOSES.
For which I yearned. I hoped to see the tribes,
Seated in prosperous peace with oMered rights
In this good hind, where holy priests and scribes,
Nut Captains stern, should teach the milder ways
Of love and faith; and gentle evening Psalms
Instead of trumpet's blare should close the days.
Swelled by sweet mothers sitting neath their palms.
And children*' voices soft. I thought to share
The sacred rapture of that final feast.
When all our hosts, purged from stains of war.
Shall to The altar come with grateful breast
In long procession, while the silvery note
Of Levites horns, and choirs of chanting priests
Make the high echoes of our anthem float
From earth to Heavens own arch; and smoking beasts
Of holocaust and incense pure shall raise
Their cloudy columns, fragrant with our thanks.
To speak to God a ransomed nations praist-.
When I had led my people's jtibilee.
Should come my rest, perpetual Sabbath rest.
With brain and heart, and we.ny members free
From those hard toils whicli had my life oppressed.
The kiugi in Jeshurun no more, but only one
Among my equal brethren, should I dwell
In my own modest'home, my like-work done;
And to my children's children daily tell
God's works and laws; until, as yonder sun.
Whos.? nether limb e'en now doth touch the deep.
His toilsome race of power and splendor run.
Sinks in his azure bed to quiet sleep
Amid serenest lights; thtis shotild I seek
The grave, my couch of calm and glarious rest.
But why this earth-born wish, as vain as weak!
Against that fixed decree, that stern arrest
Of hoi>e and life"? I must not cross this flood.
Nor share those joys, debarred by my offense.
Once small appearing; till thy chastening rod,
Oh Father, taught me. and the clearer sense
• My conscience gains from heaven's approaching light.
I bow my guilty head; for thou hadst placed
My state so high, no trespass could be slight
Which I might work, nor folly, which disgraced
Thy power, deputed to my creature hand.
Just is my sentence, black my sin with pride
And heat- forgetful of thy strict command.
So thy sole glory fam would I divide
1 Duet. 33:5. 2 Num. 20:10.
THE DEATH OF MOSRP. TlcSH
Betwixt myself and tlioo. Oh wish profane!
As though thy rod of power were mine to wield.
Blessed be God! 'tis not a wrathful' blow
Which smites my sin, but those soft strokes that yield
Medicinal cure: And that blest stream which tlows
Along the ages from his smitten rock,3
Pretigured by the meaner blood we draw
From dying substitutes of herd or flock.
Hath washed nie white from guilt of broken law.
Thou chastening, pitying (Jod. I bow to thee
In peace supreme, my fond desire recall
From earth and time, to find in Heaven and thee
My home, my land, my church, my all in all!
Now earth, and sea, and sky, and sun, farewell!
I look my last, nor would tlie look renew.
A fairer scene tlian Canaan casts its spell
On my enraptured spirit. To my view
A piirer radiance rises, at whose beams
Yon sinking orb looks dull. I see from whence
This flood ineffable of glory streams,
Not by corporeal eyes, but inner sense
Of spiritual sight, which to my soul reveals.
The Heavenly gates, whiter than Hermon's snow.
And loftier than his peaks. And from them peals
Celestial harmony, whose accents flow
In mingled strains, so soft, so high, so clear.
Our Sanctuary's psalms discordant sound.
Earth, thou are nauiglit.^ My I'avished lie.nt and ear
Forget thy charms. T'pun this verdant ground
I lay me down, weak with excess of bliss.
To drink the glory in with steady gaze.
The vision brigliter glows. What trance is this,
Which thus exliausts my soul with glad amaze?
I feel the fanning wings of Cherubim,
I bear their voices whisper: •'Bi'other, couie!"
Now death - tliuu vaniiuished foe. lead me to Him
Whose bosom is my everlasting home.
Mose.s dies Satiin iippears rising from a darli ravine to seizes his body, but
Michael witli a troop of Angels repulses him with majestic and grave rebul^e;
whereupon his company bear away the corpse to its burial.4 chanting a hymn to
Messiah.
3 1 Cor. 10:4.
1 Ps. 73::25-26. 2 Duet. :i4:h. ;! Ep of Jude v. ',). i Duet. 34:6.
THE CHRISTIAN WOMANS DROWNING HYMN.
A MONODY.
(A Christ i:iu lady aud organist, weut .Inly. 1886. with, and at the
request of her sister, for a few days" excursion to Indianola. They
arrived the day before the great night storm and tidal wave, which
submerged the town. Both the ladies and children, after hours of
fearful suspense, were drowned, the house where they sought refuge
being broken to pieces in the waves. A survivor stated that the or-
ganist spent much of the interval in most moving prayer. Their re-
mains were recovered on the subsidence of the tempest, and interred
at their homes., amidst universally solemn and tender sympathy.
The following verses are imagined, as expressing the emotions of
the Christian wife, sister and mother, during her long struggle with
the waters:)
Sister, awake! Oh list! there is a change:
The moon, whose flood of light, at eventide
Made of the placid sea an ans-wering range
Of star-lit sky, the upper heavens beside;
Sheds now its fitful gleams through angry rifts.
The fanning breezes that caressed our locks
Are swollen to a gale, on which there drifts
The s.hriek of drowning men; and sullen shocks
Of waves, like trampling hosts, as.sault the groujid—
Oh hear beneath the hollow, deep sea-moan
Sob of unrest eternal! where doth sound
The smothered agony, and parting groan
Of all the dead that ocean's caverns keep.
Our hearts, oh! sister, yesterday were bright
As was the sun-lit surface of the deep:
Our mirth was like its ripples tipped with light —
AYe thought but in this summer-sea to lave.
Our members fevered by the dog-star's ray.
And yet, beneath our laughter's rippling wave
My spirit heard a moan, which seemed to say
In tone half-felt, unreasoning; beware!
Thou art the type, thou beauteous, treacherous sea
Of mortals' lives, whose sunny joys show fair
But to prelude the the storm.
I Come, let us flee!
See these intrusive surges, each more nigh
Thau its audacious fellow! Sister, come!
BAPTISMAL HYMN. 585
Too late, thou sayestV 'Ere now the breakers fly,
Crowned with crashing wrecks and seething foam,
Across that narrow isthmus, where alone
Our path to safety lay. Remorseless deep.
Thy cunning, faithless work, thou hast well done.
We are thy helpless prey, which thou wilt keep
Fast caught in thine embrace, to wait the death
Thy fierce yet stealthy tread will bring. Oh fate
So sudden, unforeseen! to end our breath
In our strong prime! To set so short a date,
One eve. betwixt our joy and our despair!
Insidious foe: kuewest thou that manly breast.
Those nervous, sheltering arms are absent far.
Which even thy mighty rage would dare contest
For her he loved? Against two women weak.
Two frightened babes, inexorable king,
Resounds thy diapason dread, the shriek
Of wailing beasts, that bear upon their wings
The hissing spray, and thunder of thy hosts
To drown our puny cry.
So with thy shout.
From far-off tropic deeps and Carib-coasts
Thy huge reserve of floods thou callest out
To whelm these helpless lives. Our bruised limbs
And garments rent are tossed like leaves that float
On autumn blasts; while ever nearer climbs
Thy cruel, lapping wave, to clutch our throat.
Yea. thou art mighty in thy rage, oh sea!
Thou, atheist Titan, wouldst assault the sky
And fain wouldst bid the frighted stars to flee
From thy vast tumult! But they do not fly!
Between the storm-rent clouds I see their beams.
Slender but steadfast, and serene as clear,
Disdam thy brutal wrath: and with them streams
That still, small voice believing spirits hear;
Soft, but more potent than thy deaf'ning roar.
It is thy Master's voice, insurgent deep.
Who sits above those stars, who shuts the door.
Or opens to the storm, who bids thee keep
Thy subject bounds, and measures all thy flood
In his mere palm; when he bids. "Peace; be still:"
Thy waves shall crouch like beasts, beneath his rod.
Thou tossest wide thy billows' hands to kill.
The everlasting arms enfold and keep
My better life; Jehovah, he who guides
Yon starry worlds, as shepherds lead their sheep.
Inspires my psalm of faith, above the tides
Of thy vain tumult, ringing high and clear, '
586 BAPTISMAL HYMN.
Belov'il on eartli. f;irewelll ()li beaveuly spouse
I oomel tliy voice dorb cast out all my fear
And charms my soul aloft. Thy will allows
To the devourer, naught but this poor clay.
Earth-born like it. Then, take it. ravenous seal
Thy futile s-poil; thou hast an empty prey.
Even this for a day— nor shall it be
The food of thy sea monsters, nor be drawn
To thy dark caverns. This my soul foresees.
Grown prescient in the liiiht of heaven's near dawn.
Whilst thou shalr cower at my Lord's decrees
Back to thy kennels, this poor frame shall lie
Embalmed In loving tears, and take its rest
Beneath the tiowers and sheltering groves, hard by
The peaceful homes of men: and temples blest
Of Christ: until his resurrection-morn
And that new wor:,!. when "Seas shall be no more.
Thus, from thy stormiest crest, with holy scorn.
I mount to peaceful mansions, where thy roar
No more shall reach, than to yun starry orbs.
A SONNET TO LEE.
Israel oue David, Arlieus oue IVrieles.
Thebes one Epaminordas could produce.
Thy State, O, Lee, of greatness, more profuse,
Nurtured two Washingtous upon her knees;
The tirst to crown on earth his God did please;
But thy reward was set thee in the skies.
Sterner thy fate than Jackson's; him to I'ise
And fee: no fall, appointed Heaven's decrees.
From thy high noon thou turnedst to the west.
By clouds infolded, thunderous and dark.
Which yet. reluctant, spread around thy rest.
Purple and golden glories, prescient mark
Of that eternal radiance which hath blest
Thy soul, beyond our sun's inferior arc.
GENERAL T. J. JACKSON.
AN ELEGY, 1887.
Six days our hearts ftood still with keen snspi'usi':
Our champion lay sore smitten of God's hand.
The seventh, our hope was slain, for he was deadi
Our prayers were vain; and now our palsied sense
Knows not our grief to utter. Weep. O land!
Who shall inspire thy threnody, and wed
Thy wails to numbers mournful as thy breast?
Invoke no pagan Muse, whose fabled sigh
And painted tear but mimic woe sincere.
Come rather, thou, the Spirit who dost rest
In truth's, eternal seat; it was thine eye
Illumined him we mourn: and thy pure fear
His greatness was. Thee then, we call to teach
Our pain tit voice, who didst thy seer's lament
Attune to chant meet dirge for Ziou's fall.
"Oh that our heads were watersi" Then might reach
Our floods of tears to the full argument
Of our calamity, as we recall.
In contrast black, our hero's glorious morn
With this drear night that clouds it at midday.
But twice twelve moons before. A'irginia said:
"Hither my sons to meet the invaders' scorn I
They deem we withered in obscure decay.
My bosom dry of that proud milk that fed
My Washingtons and Henrys. O'er my head
They shake the loathed scourge, as though to sway
To slavery this soul to freedom born."
Then of her- myriads, rallying to her cry.
Our mother's instinct owned him foremost son.
Modest as prompt, with spirit trained to might
In secret prayer, with Bayard's chivalry
Of faith begotten; with a valor won
From God's own strength and truth's serenest light.
She gave her banner to his. stainless hand.
Thence, like the day-star blazed he in her front:
His sweep, the wind's, his stroke the knell of fate
To them who durst pollute her sacred land.
Onward and upward, through the war-cloud's brunt.
He soared with steady wing, as though to' instate
GENERAL T. J. JACKSON. ^89
Her flag in freedom's peaceful citadel.
TJaen, midst his loftiest fliglit, our eagle fell!
That we were fall'n with him we learned too late.
Yea, bow, O Lee, in grief that kingly front
To which all others bent; and weep thou drops
Such as were shed by Israel's warrior king.
For Jonathan and Saul the highty shiiu.
For now from thy right side disaster lops
The arm which wont thy victories to bring;
And could thy grandest purposes explain
In grander deeds. Yea, weep thou hoary chief!
For with his parting soul success hath flown.
To come no more. Not that thy worth is less,
Or patriot- will to win thy land relief;
Nor all thy heroes with their pattern gone.
Still shall ye toil and die; but full success
No more shall crown these toils, stanch as his own.
Still shall your gallant struggles honor save,
Losing all el.se. And weep, ye rugged hosts.
Who laughed in battle's dead-lock: He is gone
Whose shout worth fresh battalions: "On ye brave!"
Inspired your charge. Weep too, ye martial ghosts,
Who, parting from your bleeding flesh, were glad
That he still battles to avenge your fall.
For none remain that vengeance to demand,
Until the heavenly court's decree be had.
But chiefest thou, Virginia, round thee call
Thy mourning women; drape thy widowed laud
In blackest weeds, and let thy eyes be wells
Of bitter waters. Yea, and thou didst mourn!
Twice didst thou bury him; thy maids with flowers.
Thy elders with his mother-earth. Thy bells
With dismal stroke and cannons' bellowing groan
Measured thy funeral step, as all thy powers
L"nrolled their gloomy ranks.
But hadst thou seen with his presaging eye.
How much was lost with him; hadst broke the seal
Of fate for thy succeeding years, and read
As he had read, that thy best sons should die.
Yet win no rescue for the commonweal
By their rich blood, as vain, as freely shed:
How conquerors, ruthless in their pride of power.
Should trample thy fair neck, whose queenly foot
Found rightful place upon the oppressor's liead:
Cunning and malice rule the dismal hour
Of thine eclipse, and fraud and force uproot
Each right implanted by thy fathers dead:
How doltish serfs and alien thieves should foul
590 GENERAL T. J. JACKSON.
Thy seats of power, once by thy sages graced;
While all thy noblest, fairest, wisest sank
In want obscure, hounded by slanderous howl:
And worst, how some, thy sons, whom thou hadsr pl.KM d
'Neath thy free banner, in the honored rank
Of thy defenders, wooed by filthy greed.
Should aid. Oh shame! their mother's chains to draw:
Hadst thou seen this as thy dead champion saw:
(And that it might not be was fain to bleed)
Then hadst thou wept, not tears of brine, but blood!
Yea, woeful mother, weep! There is no herb.
Euphrasy, rue, nor balsam, that can buy
Health for thy deadly hurt; this saw thy Lee:
Hence in the battle's edge the end superb
Of those who for, and with their country die.
He sought, but could not find; thus God's decree.
So as he must not fall, nor could endure
To see the glories bought with fathers' blood
So foully ravaged, lost beyond recall,
His mighty heart-strings brake, his spirit pure
AVeut up where wrongs no more oppress the good.
Lift up thy wail. Virginia; thy stone wall
Thy tower of strength is prostrate. Mothers, weep:
Who for your country gave your bodies' fruit.
Dearer than life; yet willing their dear blood
Should buy her dearer freedom. Widows, weep:
And ye. unwedded maidens, wan and mute.
(Tit mates for heroes) who for country's good
Could nuptial jo.\-s forego, and think her weal
Full recompense for all your widowed lives:
For HE IS lead: your priceless price is spent.
And no deliverance bought. Ah! harshest deal
Of sightless fortune! this the thought that rives-
Your aching hearts. Oh Gotl, why hast thou sent
Such mockery of hope"? Why bid arise
Such champion of our cause, and let him bring
The boon so near our grasp, and then withdraw
Thy gift, his work unfinished, to thy s.kies?
Forgive the faithless question. Sovereign King.
We read its answer with repentant awe.
In our own sin. He was thine overture;
Thy merciful proposal to us. writ
In characters more clear than prophet's word.
And more divine, in life and deed too pure
For earth-born virtue; such as could befit
No source but Heaven. And l)y his righteous sword.
Great rescue and defense didst thou bestow.
Plucked from the jaws of death and i)eril dread
GENEKAI. r. J JACK80X. 591
Not ouc-e. but oft; wherein this meaning shone:
"Woiikl ye be free and great? Your giant foe
Wouhl ye o'erthrow. and crush his ravenous head?
Be what your Joshua is: as he hath done
Do ye. Like unto his, be all your ends
Your God's, your country's and the trutlfs: your ease
Denied for duty, and your valor taught
Of my true fear. This way your (Jnd conmienils:
Will ye walk in it to a glorious peace?
Fair overture and true! The State inwrouglit
With this man's virtues, all her sons like liim.
Had been unconquerable, absolute.
Achilles of the nations, panoplied
Not by the baptism of the infernal stream.
Lucre and cunning and the strength of brute
Conferring: but with holy power supplied
From that clear flood, that watereth the street
Of God's eternal city' impregnable.
So ours, fenced by this righteousness, had stood
'Gainst Satan's world. On what wise did we meet
God's overture?. Our purpose mutable
Postponed His call: we fain would have the good
And yet neglect its source; would seize the crown.
Yet slight the appointed race. So sluggish peace
And hope deceitful lure the thoughtless brood
Not worth the prize; who draw the angry frown
Of God, and His avenging hand release.
But thus not all. Thus spake the goodlier host:
"Yea Lord, we will be free, and on thy terms!"
And these God's model followed where he went.
To bloody graves; or else, to mourn their lost
And chant their dirge, remain. Our sin contirms
The just decree. "Thy visitation sent
In mercy's chosen day thou knewest not
O land! But in thy wealth hebete and gross.
Thou wouldest not read aright God's ofEere<l gift."
That question solved, before disaster blot
The scutcheon of God's knight, or honor's loss:
Up to his rest doth he his servant lift:
His task is done; the woe he must not feel.
Boast not upon his fall, ye haughty foes:
Ye slew him not. Your stores no missile held
To touch that sacred life. No bolt, nor steel
Forged for your greed or malice could unclose
The links of heavenly mail the truth did wi-Id
Across that breast. The' intent was yours, and guilt:
But impotent as foul. God's was the deed.
Wherefore, as instruments He chose the friends
592 GENERAL T. J. JACKSON.
Who for this life would joyfully have spilt
Their dearest blood; unwitting as. the steed
Which bore him, or the lightning's bolt which rends
The clouds to minister Jehovah's will.
For not of wrath, but love the stroke was pleflge.
It took God's favorite from the coming doom.
Whose baleful shade, than Artie night more chill.
On his prophetic soul now cast its edge.
Prognostic of the blacker, coming gloom
Of freedom lost. Thereat his swelling soul.
Spurning the shameful bonds with grand disdnin.
Burst from the fetters of his earthly frame.
And soared forever free. Asunder roll
The' eternal gates; while from their glittering fnne
The spirits troop, his brotherhood to claim.
Who free from chains of bondage lived, or died.
But we, alas I unworthy of his fate.
Live on to wear the chain, and watch his dus.t
By venal and contemptuous tongues belied;
Of manhood scarce retaining such poor state
As dares to guard aright our funeral trust.
For on the s.oil baptized by his blood.
His comrades raise no monumental stone
To make his name endure. The lowly grave.
That keeps what earth reserves of him, had stood
Unmarked, but that a weeping woman, lone
And widowed, still than bearded men more brave.
Planted her modest shaft; and maiden's hands
Weekly bedeck his sod with wreathed flowers.
Soon withered, like the cause he loved so well.
Thus lowly lie. in this dishonored land
Valor and truth and those imperial powers
Of genius -.'onsecrate (in Heaven they dwell
In state supernal!) while the sordid dust
Of coarse oppressors, great but in their crime.
Greedy of gold and blood, their people's shame.
Usurps the honor sacred to the just,
An-d flouts the heavens with braggart shaft sulilime:
While mercenary mobs resound their name,
And fawning priests, worst traitors to Christ's word.
Teach them to cry: "Success, thou art divine!"
"Be thou our God, for thou dost .sate our lust."
Thou sittest judge of all. O righteous Lord!
Thou wilt arise and let Thy judgments shine.
And they shall clear the memories of the just.
Our grievance we revoke; thou, mighty shade.
Lackest no mausoleum, while true hearts.
And such there are, enshrine thy memory.
These nobler temples of thy fame, noi made
GENERAL T. J, JACKSON. 593
By earthly hands, nor graven by men's arts.
Shall keep thy glory! And these mountains free,
Eternal watchmen round thy modest tomb.
They are tit sentinels; their soaring peaks
Point to the skies which thou inhabitest:
Steadfast like thee, wheths^" the winter's gloom
Change them to iron, or Aurora's streaks
Emblazon tliem like mansions of the blest;
Or glittering snows enwrap their giant forms.
White as thy heavenly robe, so earth meets sky.
And mortal ken can scarce discern their bound;
These keep their faithful ward through calms and storms
Nor cease to speak thy name, till time shall die
And thy great Captain's final trumpet sound.
ANNIHILATION.
They boast that "death is au eterual sleep."
Where, if no morniug e'er restores delight.
At least, no mourner ever wakes to weep—
The simile is false; the endless night
That has no dawn, brings not the soul to rest:
But to despair: For he who rests awakes
To conscious ease that satisfies his quest
For recompense of pain— The life that makes
A woeful ending is a woeful life.
He is the victor who retains the held
When battle ends: And thus the closing strife
Of earth-born anguish, if the future yield
No compensation, must forever cast
Its blackness backward on the wretch's fate.
Let nature si)eak, whose craving, deep and vast
Yearns for existence, be our conscious state
Or sweet or bitter; like the seeing eye
Insatiable of light, or ear of sound.
Desire instinct, inwrought of God most high
Not rule of interest astutely found
By after calculation, as is taught
Of our first father's sleep in Paradise
His drowsed sense, untroubled, though he thought.
He then to nothing wlience he took his rise
Was lapsing swift. It is the voice divine
Speaking within us, which instructs our wish
For endless being. Else why is it mine
Unlike the unreasoning bird or beast or fish.
To recollect the past; to anticipate;
To fear the future woe; to hope the goodV
Accursed was the gift of prescient thought
That raised our empty pride above the brood
Of brutish things; for it a lie hath taught.
The hind can crop the herb and course the lawn.
Or drink the mountain spring with thoughtless glee,
Untroubled by the hour her dying fawn
Cost her a transient pang; nor doth foresee
The hunter's coming shaft that seeks her breast.
No memory brings past sorrows, no foresight
Arrays its future terrors to molest
Her present joy: One sudden thi-ill of fright.
ANNIHILATION. 595
One stroke, one death-throe ends the whole cnreer,
Simple and brief, but rounded in its .ioj-.
Why should I die like her if I must fear.
Remember, hope, desire, doomed to employ
My noblest powers of being to pursue
Futility? Why mine to stretch the thought
To progress onward, and the endless view
Of growtli of soul witli larger glories fraught.
In widening vistas mounting through the realms
Of knowledge boundless? Why when present love
With its alluring bliss the heart o'erwhelms.
Is it ordained our foresight still must rove
To future days, that love might fill like this
With equal joys, yet know it must not be?
Why is it reason will not. cannot cease
To frame that thought supreme, eternity;
Capacious of infinitude of good,
Mocking the soul with cravings infinite.
If life must be the span the bestial brood
Enjoys? AbhoiTed span! that art but meet
To shew us Being's woes, and then its loss
Irreparable. Cursed be the boon
Of such existence, cheating with its dross
The golden hopes it sancticneth, as soon
As they begin to glow— The better lot
Is given the brute, who drinks the trivial cup
Of life, and ends, forgetting and forgot.
If death ends all. a blaekf^r thought looms up:
Then all we love must perish when they die;
We part forever, and the love that blest
Our hearts remains a wound that shall not dry
Its bitter stream till Nothingness arrest
Our woe and being by one common blow.
Love is immortal: all things else may die;
The forest kings decay, the ceaseless flow
Of ancient rivers, proudly sweeping by
Long buried cities, wane, the steadfast heads
Of everlasting mountains waste and stoop.
Tlie hoary seas desert their sunless beds;
This ordered frame may backward droop
To endless chaos-— But the eye
That shines with love's self-sacrificing light
Outlasts the beams which from Arcturus fly.
Orion or Bootes: it is bright
With God's own rays. He is the sun of love
And they the orbs that round the centre roll
Reflecting him, as they forever move
In circles shaped by his supreme control.
He is eternal; so the gift divine!
596 ANNIHILATION.
Is all we love tlieu, mortal? Do the flres
Of geuius, klnaled from the heavenly shriue
Of truth and beauty, perish, as expires
The gilded butterfly or tinted rose?
Or shall the Sage's vision, that can pierce
Through Nature's secrets, make the sea disclose
His deep abyss, and ride his billows fierce.
Can map the planet's pathway and foretell
Their sure returns, can bridge the flood;
That can the storm-cloud's subtile bolt expel.
"Can look from nature up to nature's God."
And in his works can read his deeper thought;
Be quenched iu darkness like the rotting eye
Of newt or toad? The heroism that wrought
A nation's disenthralment, fain to die
For country's weal, and seek no recompens*^
But conscious right, the martyr's steadfast faith
Which joys to die for Truth, and own no sense
Of fiery torments: mother's love, which hath
No thought of self, consummate effluence
Of heaven's own virtue; perish evermore
As utterly as hypocrites' pretense.
Or as the bubbles bursting on the shore.
Or as the glitter of the serpent's scales
Decaying back to dust? 'Tis blasphemy!
Bethink ye; If this creed of death prevails
To doom our spirits to mortality.
It leaves no trace of God on nature's page—
If man is soulless, then an atheist world
Is all he knows, where senseless forces rage
In tire, and sea. and storm, and suns are hurled
With troops of waiting stars, by aimless might,
Through voids immense, and blind mechanic fate
Inexorable, on its throne of night.
Sightless and pitiless maintain its state
In earth or heaven there is no ear to hear
The sufferer's prayer; no heart to feel his woe:
No hand to shield the gust, or to repair
The foulest wrong that nithless force can do?—
So right eternal perishes, and crime
Endures eternal, scorning all repeal.—
Then are this lower earth these heavens sublime
One vast machine, 'neath whose remorseless wheel
The corn is human hearts, instinct of pain.
And joy. and hope, and fear, that writhe and bleed.
Till ground to nothingness. Oh piteous grain!
Oh dreadful engine! Monster! that dost feed
Thine endless grind with countless precious lives!
ANNIHILATION. 597
Is such a world our home? 'Tis dark as. hell!
Its joys but mock us. since no joy survives;
But death and loss irreparable dwell
Perpetual masters. Yet, one other fate
There is more black— the eternal recompen>^
Which conscious guilt forewarns it, may await
Tlie soul which cannot'die. nor find defense
Against the Judge changeless, omnipotent—
Ah! this the thouglit which drives the coward hcnrt
The desperate alternative to choose
'Twixt hell and nothingness- A better part
Appears to faith— Then why, Oh mortals, lose
That nobler choice. Redemptiob? bought witli blood
Of God incarnate, wrought by power divine.
The safe inheritance of perfect good.
The grace that s-hall your inmost souls refine
From error, sin and sorrow, and J^estow
The angels' life of bliss and purity.
Whose years are measured only by the tiow
Of God's eternity: The gift as free
Vj every thirsting soul as air of heaven!
AVhy do men turn from glories such as these
To dreary niglit and death? and still elect
Infinite loss and naught o'er boundless seas
Of joy? Because, O shame! Their guilty fears detect
The treason and the folly they have wrought
Against themselves and their best destiny
In serving sin! This infamy hath taught
(And this alone) the atheist's grovelling plea,
That^ death may be to them -eternal sleep."
THE TEXAS BRIGADE AT THE WILDERNESS.
(Written May, ISOO.i
It was upon the sixth of May, five miles from Lee away.
Our corps amid the forest lay, before the break of day.
Our limbs by the hard march distressed, close to the ground wo
pressed,
As by forgetful slumber blest, we took our dreamless rest.
Tho' now and then the cannon's boom disturbed the silent gloom;
Our ears, locked up as in the silent tomb, gave to the sound small
room;
But what is this bids sleep depart; and makes each soldier start.
The hot l)lood throbbing at his heart, with sense and mind alert V
The long roll beat! "Fall in!" they cry; "Fall in, the minutes tiyi"
For these five miles we must pass by our succor to supply.
The teeming foes our friends confront, whose weary swords .u;'
blunt
So we are needed at the front to bear the battle's brunt.
Our rest was short; our food was none; but our fatigue was gone;
Our leader calls and we press on, as eager racers run.
The stars above, so calm and bright, shed down their solemn light
Through forest leaves with dews bedight. Over the waning uiglit
Aurora sprtads her rosy fire. The timid birds aspire
To tune their thankful, morning choir. But hark! the contrast dire.
The cannon's roar and sulphurous flash, and bloody weapons clash;
The thud of trampling, panting steeds, the wounded wretch wlio
bleeds.
Bewailing pangs which no one heeds, amidst all deadly deeds!
And now the sun confronts our eyes, lurid with battles' dyes;
Beneath, the tangled forest lies, whence fumes of tophet rise.
Thereat we strain our thews anew, we pierce the tumult through;
Alas! the sight that meets our view: who stand and fight are few.
From broken ranks the many flee. But. courage! Yonder, see,
Fpou the battle's, edge is Lee! The god of war is he!
Serene, elate, with steadfast will, he bids the storm be still.
He plants his heroes on the hill, the deadly breach to fill.
We lead our march; to us he turns. That heart, each man ir.s;-enis.
Big as a world, with pity yearns, and yet with valor burns
Sterner tliau death and fate.
"Ye Texas men whom Hood has led.
Who for our land so oft have bled,
But from the foe have never fled;
THE TEXAS BRIGADE AT THE WILDERNESS. 599
Now !>■ your tiino to ti.aht!
"This hour decides your country's weal;
Quick! into line of battle wheel.
And give the enemy cold steel;
And Uod defend the right."
What answer gave the fierce hurrah that rent tli(> lowering s.ky?
Our purpose grim, our fiery will, resolved to do or die.
But well we understood the task, now set for us to do.
Our corps was near, its ranks were full, its men worp staundi and
true;
But time must lapse before the mass is formed in due array;
And to our foes what vantage ground may not this space betray?
It is our blood that must redeem this time, and so giA'e pause
Till ampler food be ready made to till this Moloch's jaws.
"Forward, the First Bridgade!" cries Gregg, but not alone leads he;
For lo! beside him at the front, the towering form of Lee.
Where he sends us he too will go. A crisis woirth our blood
He sees; his own more precious drops must join our cheaper flood.
He bares his head; the s.unbeams stain his hoary locks with fire;
He speaks no word, but look and mien sublime all hearts inspire,
Then from the grizzly soldiers' eyes who wont in battle's throes
To laugh, and mock at peril's dread, the briny flood o'erflows.
Not coward-tears are these, but such as come from martyr's eyes;
Who for Christ's truth, and heavenly joys, the stake and fire despise.
Ye proud invaders, well may ye these weeping foemen fear;
A thousand drops from next your heart, shall pay each generous tear.
F'or hear their word: "For that old man we'll charge the gates of
hell!
Not shall he share the deadly risk!" for he is loved too well.
Let lives the cause can better spare make up the holocaust.
Here then we halt, till he retire to his more proper post.
At last he yields. Now shall he see, how we will do our pax'ts.
"Forwa'rd again!" with trailed arms each man impetous starts,
Like hounds unleashed that seek the game, we pierce the smoking
wood.
Five to our one, in leafy screens ambushed, the foemen stood.
"One volley, boys, low. in the breast; then to the bayonet!"
As through the tangled brush wo tore, a second line we met,
And iniow a third, replacing those that fled before our blows.
And worse; their overlapping wings our right and left enclose;
With fire in front, and fire in flank, our thin lines melt away.
Our charge must pause; we are too few! But hei'e at least to stay!
And we will die so hard and slow, that Lee the time shall save
He needs, to form his battle lines— so shot for shot we gave,
And death for death at closest range; till half the hour was spent.
At last! thank God! at last 'tis done. Hark to that shout which rent
The very heavens! Hurrah! They come, Longstreet and Anderson.
600 THE TEXAS BRIGADE AT THE WILDERNESS.
Earth shakes beneath their myriad feet! Hurrah! The day is won!
Two miles abreast, an alavanache of fire and steel they rush;
AndU'ank on rank in fragments break, as ocean billows crush
The rotten barques; and drive the shreds, as chaff before the storm.
Six hundred men and seventy-two there were that mora, to form
The sturdy remnant of the lines, at first three thousand strnnc;.
Four hundred now and fifty lay the bloody trail along.
Bleeding or dead. How far we kept our pledge these numbers tell.
Ghosts of our comrades dead, know this: Ye were avenged well.
If streams :of meaner blood could pay for each rich drop of yours.
All honor to our gallant Gregg! As yet the heavenly powers
Bore him unscatched in danger's front. All honor to our slain.
Who gave their all for country's sake; their names shall live again
While we can sing their deathless deeds. All honor to the chief
Who fain would spend his blood with ours, to buy our land relief.
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