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g  historical: 

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3  1833  01735  9487 


GENEALOG'S 
929.102 
M56MMB 
1841 


METHODIST 

QUAETEELY  REVIEW. 

1841. 


EDITED    BY    GEORGE    PEC  K,    D.  D. 


VOLUME  XXIII. 


TK'IRD   SERIES,   VOLUME   I. 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  G.  LANE  &   P.  P.  SANDFORD, 

FOR    THE    METHODIST    EPISCOPAL    CHURCH,    AT    THE    CO\FEREXCE 

OFFICE,    200   MULBEKRY-STREET. 

J.  CoUord,  Printer. 
1841. 


'^'OGOSS 


.)/;v//.-,/-..///'. 


CONTENTS. 


CONTKNTS   OF  JANUARY  NUMBER. 
Art.  Page 

I.  Introduction    .........       5 

II.  Lives  of  the  Apostles 9 

in.  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization      .         .         .         .39 
IV.  Tracts  for  tlio  Times 58 

V.  The  Labouring  Classes 92 

VI.  Christian  Perfection 123 

YII.  Critical  Notices —  <=■• 

1.  Johnston's  Manual  of  Chemistry       .         .         .         .156 

2.  GrinJroJ's  Prize  Essay  ......  159 

3.  Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  the  AL  E.  Church  .         .  160 

4.  Upliam's  Philosophical  Works         .         .         .         .161 

5.  Cooknian's  Speeches       .         .         .         .         .         .163 

C.  Smith's  Discourses  on  the  Functions  of  the  Nervous 

System 164 

C0.\TE.N-TS   OF   APRIL    NUMBER. 

I.  Girnrd  College ...  165 

II.  Necessity  of  Christ's  Suflerings  .  .  .  .212 
HI.  General  History  of  Civilization  in  Modern  Europe  .  .  222 
IV.  Literary  Institutions         .......  254 

V.  Uphaui's  Mental  Philosophy    .         .  .          .          .  .263 

VI.  lloniilrtics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence 283 

VII,  Chiisiian  Perfection 307 

\I11.  Critical  Notices — 

1.  The  School  District  Library 320 

2.  Oxford  Divinity,  by  Bishop  M'llvaine       .         .         .323 
3.'  Convert's  Guide 324 

4.  Wcsleyan  Student 324 

5.  Slicer  on  Baptism 324 

CO.VTENTS   OF    JULY    NU.MBER. 

I.  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  MorreU         .         .         .         .325 

II.  Cousin's  Psychology       .......  336 

III.  Translation  from  Professor  Tholuck         ....  354 

IV.  Philo'sophy  of  the  Human  Voice 381 


cS^4 


CftNTF.NTS. 


Art. 
V.  Democracy  in  America  ....... 

VI.  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft 

VII.  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.Crabbe 

VIII.  Critical  Notices — - 

1.  Memorials  of  South  Africa 

2    Scripture  Views  of  the  Heavenly  World 

3.  A  Treatise  on  the  Scriptural  Doctrine  of  Justification 

4.  Lord  King's  Draught  of  the  Primitive  Church  . 

5.  A  History  of  the  IMcthodist  E.  Church,  Vol.  IV. 

6.  The  Life  of  the  Rev.  .John  Emory,  D.  D. 

7.  Delineation  of  Roman  Catholicism,  Vol.  I. 

8.  Anthon's  Classical  Dictionar_y  .         .         .         . 

9.  Hallam's  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  Europe     . 

10.  Palmer's  Ecclesiastical  History        .  .  .         . 

11.  Coleman's  Antiquities  of  the  Christian  Church 

12.  Wesleyan  IMctliodisni      ...... 

13.  The  Nestorians 

14.  Themes  for  the  Pulpit 

15.  The  Poetry  and  Iliblorj- of  Wyoming 

CONTE.VTS    or    OCTOHER    Na'MDER. 

I.  Nordheimer's  Hebrew  Grammar     . 

II.  Life  and  Poems  of  the  Rev.  G.  Crabbe     . 

HI.  Baptist  Bible  Society 

IV.  Butler's  Analogy  of  Jvcligion  .... 

V.  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Da\y    .... 

VI.  Patrick  Henry ■    . 

VII.  Critical  Notices — 

1.  Life  of  Rev.  Charles  V/cslcy  . 

2.  Elliott  on  Catholicisjn,  Vol.  II. 

3.  Stephens'  Travels  in  Central  America 

4.  Life  and  Times  of  Red  Jacket 

5.  Harrison  on  the  Latin  Grammar 

6.  Chase  on  Roman  Catholic  Indulgences    . 

7.  Vindication  of  Classical  Studies 

8.  Pamphlets 


Page 
412 


485 
514 
535 
566 
591 
622 

632 
633 
634 
636 
637 
638 


METHODIST  QUARTERLY  REVIEW. 
JANUARY,  ISll. 


EDITED    BY   GEORGE   PECK,   D.  D. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Till-:  jirescnt  i^  an  eventful  and  an  interesting  age.  Improvemenis 
uro  exceeding,  in  number  and  importance,  those  of  all  former  periods. 
Tlic  v;irious  plans  for  the  melioration  of  human  condition  arc  as- 
mnniiig  new  moditications,  and  acting  willi  accumulated  power. 
The  useful  arts,  and  llie  insiiiutions  of  benevolence,  are  so  enliiirinj, 
lii'.-ir  compass,  that  the  defects  and  embarrassments  of  the  iocial 
s'.atc  are  in  a  way  soon  to  be  covered  by  remedies  as  near  suvereigii 
as  llic  present  condition  of  things  will  admit. 

Among  the  great  instruments  of  human  improvement  the  press 
occupies  a  conspicuous  position.  It  seems  especially  designed 
by  Providence  to  exercise  a  restormg  influence  upon  the  under- 
standing and  conscience ;  but  it  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  it  has  not 
unfri-ijuently  been  ])ressed  into  the  service  of  folly  and  corruption. 
To  wrest  tliis  grand  engine  from  the  hand  of  error,  and  to  employ 
il  i:>  iis  le^iiimaic  work,  no  effort  should  be  deemed  too  great  a 
fruTJlii-e.  The  press  sliould  be  fully  employed  in  the  great  object 
of  rn!i;:!itening  and  reforming  the  world :  it  sliould  furnish  every 
variety  of  instructive  and  useful  reading ;  and  especially  slioidd  it 
correct  its  0T^^l  errors,  and  counteract  the  evil  tendencies  it  lias 
occasioned,  and  of  wliich  it  is  the  only  effective  remedy. 

With  our  venerated  founder  these  were  cherished  objects ;  the 
evidence  of  which  is  abundant  in  his  voluminous  publications.  We 
liavc  received  from  his  fertile  and  powerful  jjcu  numerous  and  va- 
rious works,  from  the  penny  tract  to  the  ponderous  volume  ;  all 
contemplating  the  same  noble  object, — the  improvement  of  llie  cha- 
racter and  condition  of  human  society.  This  great  and  good  man, 
early  in  liis  com'sc  of  usefulness,  fully  estimated  the  importance  of 

Vol.  I.— 1 


6  Introduction.  [Januar)', 

a  periodical  wliich  should  contain  vntltum  in  parvo  {muck  in  little) 
for  general  circulation  and  popular  use.  Hence  came  into  being 
the  Anninian  Magazine.  This  fmally  trave  place  to  the  Wesleyan 
Methodist  Magazine,  whicli  deservedly  ranks  among  the  best 
periodicals  of  the  class. 

In  1818  the  Methodist  ]\Iagazine  was  commenced,  and  issued  in 
monthly  numbers  under  the  supervision  of  the  book  agents  at  New- 
York.  T liis  work  continued  to  be  issued  in  its  original  form  until 
the  year  1 829.  It  was  then  thought  that  tlie  Magazine  should  no 
longer  sustain  the  character  of  a  mere  miscellany,  as  the  Advocate 
and  Journal,  now  in  successful  operation,  coidd  do  ample  justice 
to  merely  transient  and  mi.scellaneous  matters.  The  work  was 
accordingly  ihenccfonvard  issued  quarterly,  imder  the  title  of  the 
"Methodist  Magazine  and  Quarterly  IJeview."  Upon  the  occa- 
sion of  this  change,  the  editor.  Dr.  Emory,  in  his  "prospectus,^' 
presents  the  reasons  for  the  change  in  the  following  language  : — 

"  For  tliis  class  of  periodicals  there  is  certainly  a  greater  vacancy 
in  the  department  of  theological  journals,  at  the  present  da)%  than 
in  any  other  ;  and  particularly  in  our  own  denomination.  There  is 
danger,  too,  of  satisfying  ourselves,  on  one  hand,  vnxh  light  and 
transient  reading,  and,  on  the  otlicr,  v.-ith  light  and  transient 
writing-  Wc  yet  need  a  jo\irnal  which  shall  draw  forth  the  most 
matiured  efforts  of  our  best  writers,  whether  in  the  mhiistrj',  or 
among  other  intelligent  and  lilcrar)'  contributors  ;  where  also  they 
may  have  room  for  ampler  and  more  exact  discussion,  in  a  record 
which  shall  endure  for  the  inspection  of  posterity.  There  are  verj' 
many  also  in  the  wide  circle  of  our  friends,  who  have  both  taste 
and  adequate  means  for  patronizing  such  a  work  ;  and  one  such  is 
highly  desirable,  a.^  well  for  their  satisfaction,  as  to  lead  others  to 
the  cultivation  of  a  similar  taste." 

At  tlie  late  General  Conference  it  was  resolved  to  commence, 
after  the  close  of  the  volume  for  ISIO,  a  new  series  of  the  work, 
in  an  improved  form,  luider  the  title  of  the  "  Methodist  Quarterly 
Review."  The  design  now  is  to  give  the  work  more  fully  the 
character  of  a  Review  than  it  has  lieretoforc  sustained,  but  not  in 
the  least  to  depart  from  the  general  purposes  contemplated  in  the 
former  series.  Its  pages  will  be  devoted  to  theology,  ecclesiastical 
polity,  education,  science,  and  general  literature.  These  subjects 
•will  be  discussed  mf)stly,  but  not  altogether,  in  the  fonn  of  reviews. 


]  54 1 .]  Introduction.  7 

111  extended  and  elaborate  reviews  we  shall  present  our  readers 
with  the  substance  of  many  of  the  leading  publications  which  from 
time  to  time  issue  from  the  American  and  European  presses, 
accompanied  with  such  criticisms  and  remarks  as  their  character 
sliall  demand ;  and  in  critical  notices  shall  give  our  views  of  the 
ponoral  character  of  many  others.  By  these  means  we  hope  to 
render  mucli  assistance  to  our  readers  in  ordering  books  wliich 
tlicy  may  wish  to  procure,  as  well  as. to  afford  them  the  means  of 
obtaining  the  ii\formation  contained  in  many  others,  which  they 
may  not  have  the  means  or  desire  to  pmchase. 

For  further  particulars  as  to  the  plan  of  the  work,  and  our  edi- 
torial coiu-se,  we  would  refer  the  reader  to  the  prospectus  published 
1>V  llie  Agents,  to  our  editorial  in  the  July  number,  and  to  the  prc- 
Ecnl  number,  which  is  offerd  as  a  specimen. 

Such  a  publication  is  deemed  especially  important  at  the  present 
lime.  Tlieology  is  liable  to  suffer  from  the  extremes  which  clia- 
larterizc  the  a:;o.  Adventurous  speculation,  reckless  skepticism, 
and  tame  credulity  enter  largely  into  the  spirit  of  the  times.  The 
gro:<sest  errors  of  the  dark  ages,  together  with  every  species  of 
novelty,  find  a  read}'  reception  even  among  minds  claiming 
tlie  advantages  of  a  high  state  of  cultivation.  And  is  this  any  time 
for  the  Methodist  press  to  sleep,  or  to  be  partial  and  tame  in  its 
instruments  of  attack  and  defense  ?  Surely  not.  If  tliere  were 
ever  a  time  when  the  true  Wesleyan  theology,  in  its  clearness, 
simplicity,  and  power,  required  all  the  means  of  diffusiveness  and 
extension  which  can  be  commanded,  the  present  is  that  time.  A 
ni-:-diimi  for  a  tliorough  find  full  discussion  of  such  topics  in  thco- 
loi'v  as  have  been  buried  in  the  mists  of  false  philosophy  or  unbri- 
dled dogmatism  is  now  with  us  absolutely  necessary.  And  shall  the 
.Methodist  Episcopal  Chmch  prove  recreant  in  such  an  emergency? 
Indeed,  she  cannot.  She  will  fortify  every  point,  and  fully  equip 
herself  for  the  important  part  she  is  destined  to  act  in  the  great 
conflict  now  in  progress  between  the  simple,  unsophisticated  doc- 
trines of  the  gospel,  and  a  theology-  merely  speculative  on  the  one 
hand,  or  pmely  dogmatical  on  the  other. 

The  institutions  and  government  of  the  cliurch  must  have  due 
attention.  Various  questions  which  many  may  have  supposed 
long  since  settled,  relating  to  ecclesiastical  polity,  are  still  mooted, 
and  llic  principles'  which  they  involve  arc  to  be  contested  over  and 


8  Iniroduction.  [January, 

over  again.  Hence  llie  necessity  of  being  always  prepared  to  de- 
fend and  explain  our  own  peculiar  inslilutions  at  length  when  need 
requires. 

The  missionary,  sabbath  school,  and  temperance  cause,  as  also 
our  schools  and  colleges,  will  come  in  for  a  share  of  our  sympathies 
and  co-operation. 

Experiments  in  science  are  daily  bringing  to  light  the  secrets 
of  nature,  and  so  enlarging  the  sphere  of  human  contcmjjlation  and 
enjoyment.  It  is  of  immense  importance  that  all  branches  of  the 
community  should  keep  pace  with  the  progress  of  scientific  disco- 
ver}', at  least  so  far  as  the  useful  arts  are  affected  by  this  means. 
It  shall  be  our  object  to  keep  our  readers  sufficiently  advised  upon 
this  subject. 

Wc  hope  to  pluck  now  and  then  a  flower  from  ancient  and  mo- 
dern literature,  for  the  gratification  of  our  readers.  But  those 
whose  morbid  appetites  can  only  be  satisfied  with  the  creations  of 
a  disordered  imagination  can  have  little  to  hope  from  our  labors,  or 
those  of  our  correspondciUs.  The  llcvicv.-  will  deal  in  sober  reali- 
ties. And  though  all  due  pains  wall  be  taken  to  gratify  a  well- 
disciplined  taste,  its  great  object  will  be  to  make  its  readers  uiiser 
rjid  better. 

For  the  encom-agement  of  our  renders  we  will  just  say,  that,  from 
tlie  light  which  already  shines  ujion  our  way,  we  can  have  no  doubt 
of  complete  success  in  oiir  efforts  to  procure  good  materials.  We 
have  the  pledges  of  several  of  the  best  writers  in  the  countiy  that 
they  will  render  us  their  aid.  All  that  now  seems  necessary  is 
an  adequate  list  of  subscribers,  and  to  this  important  clement  of 
success  we  trust  our  agents  will  help  us  without  dela}'.  If  motives 
are  necessary  to  secure  the  co-operation  of  the  preachers,  surely 
it  will  be  sufficient  to  remind  them,  that  by  assisting  in  the  circu- 
lation of  the  Quarterly  they  will  not  only,  in  the  same  proportion, 
diffuse  useful  knowledge,  but  will  aid  the  most  worthjr  objects  of  the 
solicitudes  of  the  church, — the  sxipcrannuated  preachers,  and  the 
widoios  and  orphans  of  those  who  have  faUcn  in  the  field  of  labor. 

In  conclusion  wc  beg  to  say,  that,  feeling  as  we  do  our  utter 
insufficiency  for  the  arduous  and  responsible  duties  devolving  upon 
us,  we  most  earnestly  ask  the  prayers  of  the  whole  church,  that 
the  Father  of  all  our  mercies  may  direct  and  succeed  our  humble 
efforts  to  promote  his  glory  and  the  best  interests  of  mankind. 


jSjl]  Lives  of  the  Ajyoslles.  9 

AuT.  1  L—The  Lives  of  the  Apostles  0/ Jesus  Christ,  drawn  from 
Ihr  ]\'rilin"-s  of  the  earhj  Christian  Fathers,  and  embracing  the 
j\eir  Testament  History.  Illustrated  -with  ample  Notes,  histo- 
rical, topographical,  and  exegeiical:  icith  References  to  Autho- 
rities, containing  a  large  amount  of  valuable  matter ;  noio  first 
translated  into  English  from  various  Ancient  and  Modern 
Lan"-uazes ;  besides  numerous  Original  Views  and  Explana- 
tions. ^\'ilh  numerous  Engravings.  New-Haven  :  Published 
by  Young  &  Uhliiorx — pp.  650. 

The  apostles  of  Jesus  Clirist  were  altogether  a  peculiar  class  of 
intMi.  ^^'ithout  those  attractions  which  draw  upon  the  great  and 
nii.;!i' V  men  of  the  earth  the  gaze  and  admiration  of  wondering  mul- 
tiludi-s,  the  place  ihcj'  occupied,  and  the  high  spiritual  office  they 
fdlcd,  present  them  on  the  page  of  history  in  a  light  far  more  inte- 
roitiiii;  and  important  than  that  in  which  the  most  renowicd  of  this 
wwrl.i's  Shanes  and  noblemen  appear.  In  the  faithful  mirror  of  im- 
psrti;d  biorjrnpliy  liow  do  Cesar  and  his  minions  appear  in  contrast 
wiih  Ciirist  and  his  apostles?  or  Herod  Agrippa  compare  with 
"  Jaiiios,  llic  brother  of  John,"  whom  "he  killed  with  the  sword?" 
or  llic  liif^h  priest  and  his  persectUing  council  with  Peter,  wliose 
imprisonment  they  procured,  and  the  devout  disciples  whose  pray- 
ers prevailed  with  God  for  his  deliverance  ?  or  Felix  and  the  second 
AgTi])pa  with  Paul,  whose  inspired  eloquence  caused  the  one  to 
tromblo,  and  the  other  to  confess  himself  "  almost"  persuaded  "to 
he  a  Ciiristian  ?"  In  a  word,  in  what  other  class  of  men,  whose 
ninics  liavc  been  deemed  worthy  on  any  account  to  bo  handed 
down  to  succeeding  generations,  do  we  see  so  much  to  admire,  so 
liiurh  whii'li  may  be  rendered  subservient  to  the  best  interests  of 
K.-vciety  in  general,  and  the  spiritual  edification  of  the  pious  in 
particular? 

Few  subjects,  it  will  readily  be  admitted,  aflbrd  a  wider  scope 
fur  amplification  than  the  lives  of  the  apostles.  The  simple  naiTa- 
tivc  of  their  labors  is  indeed  contained  in  a  narrow  compass  in  the 
original  record.  This  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  inspired  ■^^Titiugs.  To 
multiply  incidents  beyond  what  was  necessary  to  render  the  canon 
conij)lctc,  or  to  swell  the  account  by  inferences  and  reflections, 
appears  to  have  been  no  part  of  the  work  of  the  Spirit  in  revealing 
tnith  to  man.  But  the  inspired  data  is  sufficiently  ample,  even  in 
lliis  dcparlment,  to  suggest  to  the  mind  of  the  pious  author  trains 


10  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [Januarj', 

of  pertinent  reflections  and  observations  wliich  ma}'  be  ivTouglil  into 
an  extended  dissertation  equally  instnictive  and  edifying  to  liis 
Christian  readers.  Such  a  ^vork  is  the  Portrait  of  St.  Paul,  writ- 
ten by  the  late  pious  vicar  of  JIadeley,  Rev.  Jolm  William  de  la 
Fletcherc.  This  admirable  production  is  published  at  the  Method- 
ist Book  Room,  in  New-York,  and  widely  circulated  through  the 
medium  of  that  most  efficient  channel.  No  well  disposed  Clmstian 
or  Christian  minister  can  peruse  it  with  prayerful  attention  without 
receiving  much  spiritual  benefit  from  it.  He  will  leave  it  a  better 
Christian ;  and,  if  a  minister,  a  more  apostolical  and  successful 
laborer  in  the  vineyard  of  his  Lord.  We  live  in  a  day  when  the  mul- 
tiplication of  such  works  is  much  needed.  The  svv'arms  of  novels 
and  romances  which  arc  daily  issuing  from  the  press,  to  corrupt  the 
taste  and  vitiate  the  morals  of  the  youth  of  our  counti^^  are  a  stand- 
ing reproach  to  us  as  a  professedly  Christian  nation.  It  is  a  source 
of  deep  and  painful  regret  to  the  truly  pious  of  all  denominations, 
and  loudly  calls  on  every  friend  of  our  common  Cliristianity  to  exert 
his  utmost  efforts  to  counteract  the  pernicious  influence  of  this  diffu- 
sive and  insidious  moral  poison,  by  substituting  a  more  healthy  ali- 
ment for  the  mind.  Who  that  is  capable  of  forming  an}- just  estimate 
of  the  demoralizing  tendency  of  such  productions  as  are  here  alluded 
to,  can  help  deploring  that  their  authors  should  be  eulogized,  and 
their  names  idciiliflcd  with  the  nation's  literatm-c  as  its  chief  sup- 
porters and  most  brilliant  ornaments  ?  But  such  is  the  fact ;  and 
imtil  talent  and  literatiure,  eloquence  and  authorship,  shall  be  con- 
secrated to  the  cause  of  true  piety,  this  stigma  will  probably  remain 
a  standing  reproach  to  both  our  intelligence  and  our  moral  taste  as 
a  Cluistian  community. 

On  opening  the  volume  before  us,  and  glancing  over  the  title 
page  and  a  few  lines  setting  forth  the  "  plan  and  scope  of  the 
work,"  we  felt  a  degree  of  pleasure  arising  from  a  secret  hope  that 
it  might  be  one  of  those  truly  devotional  productions  of  a  pious 
heart  and  an  enlightened  understanding,  which  the  circumstances 
of  tlie  times  so  imperiously  require.  It  did  appear  to  us  that  who- 
ever would,  at  this  time,  select  the  lives  and  labors  of  the  apostles 
as  a  theme  for  a  book  of  more  than  six  hundred  royal  octavo 
pages,  must  have  a  heart  in  some  measure  imbued  with  the  apos- 
tolic spuit,  and  would,  in  all  probability,  amplify  his  subject  in  such 
a  way  as  to  produce  a  most  salutary  impression  upon  the  moral 


]gn.]  Lives  of  tlw  Apostles.  11 

;ind  rclinioiis  feelings  of  his  readers.  It  was  such  a  delusive  hope 
whicli  iudiiccd  us  to  prociu-e  the  work,  its  enormous  price  notwitli- 
slandinir;  ;uui  to  enter  with  more  than  ordinary  interest  upon  a 
pi-nisal  of  its  contents,  little  suspecting  tliat  they  would  furnish  oc- 
rasiii!i  for  such  strictures  and  animadversions  as  we  have  felt  it  our 
<lni  V  1"  make  upon  it.  To  tell  the  truth,  we  were  disappointed  in  it. 
li  IS  a  far  less  devotional  work  than  we  had  hoped  to  find  it ;  and 
ill  other  respects  by  no  means  such  as  the  nature  of  the  subject 
wd'.iM  authorize  us  to  e.vpect.  We  do  not  mean  by  tliis  remark, 
liuwevcr,  wholly  to  condemn  it  as  a  worthless  production.  It  has 
merits.  But  we  cannot  resist  the  connction,  that  a  dissertation  on 
the  lives  and  labors  of  the  apostles  of  Jesus  Christ  ought  to  be  a 
piT iiliariy  religious  work,  calculated  to  inspire  the  reader  with  much 
I'f  the  s]iirit  which  characterized  those  holy  men  who  arc  set  forth 
n~  illuhtrious  examples  of  the  power  and  purity  of  the  gospel  they 
wrro  divinely  commissioned  to  teach.  Such  is  by  no  means  the 
r.'i.iMcUT  or  tendency  of  the  work  before  us;  and  we  must,  there- 
fiTo,  deem  it  wanting  at  least  in  appropriateness. 

I'nlilce  the  author  of  the  Portrait  of  St.  Paul,  who  in  the  very 
r;r.st  paragraph  of  his  book  calls  the  reader's  attention  to  the  early 
pieiy  of  tlie  apostle,  and  thenceforward  keeps  it  frved  in  contempla- 
lioii  of  the  eminent  traits  of  character  developed  throughout  the 
wliole  course  of  his  devoted  life,  the  writer  of  the  volume  before  us 
r-i-cuiiic.f  some  thirty  or  forty  pages  in  describing  the  civil  state  of 
"  liic  world  in  the  apostolic  age,"  before  he  comes  to  the  main 
obiori  of  his  work.  This  may  be  admissible  as  an  introduction, 
il.'S'.'h  it  too  evidently  indicates  that  the  writer's  mind  was  not  so 
<^'•J.!y  iiuluicd  with  the  spirit  of  his  subject  as  could  be  desired 
to  iii.-nro  a  jirofilablc  discussion  of  it.  Of  this  we  have  still  farther 
f\iil''iicc  in  tlie  manner  of  his  connecting  the  polilical  sway  of  the 
lu'iH.ui  emperor  willi  the  advent  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Saviour. 
'i  his  is  certainly  novel  in  some  respects,  and  extremely  questionable 
in  i.ihers.  Who,  for  example,  is  pre])arcd  to  hear  Julius  Cesar 
f'loilaiined  as  "  Christ's /ocerwr»)r/- ?''  Such,  indeed,  was  Jolm 
Iiic  Baptist,  an  honor  most  fitly  confeiTcd  upon  him  as  a  devoted 
pi\>phct  of  the  Most  High.  Julius  Cesar  was  neither  his  rival  nor 
liis  ns^sociate  ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  for  what  purpose,  other 
lliiii  to  exhibit  the  eccentricity  of  the  author's  mind,  (of  which 
ilicrc  is  abundant  'evidence  throughout  his  work,)  the  appellation 


12  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [January, 

appropriated  to  the  Imavcn-appointcd  messenger  of  the  Lord,  wlio 
was  especially  sent  to  prepare  his  way  before  liira,  is  given  to  an 
earthly  monarch,  without  so  much  as  one  trait  of  character  befitting  a 
mortal  for  so  holy  an  association. 

But  were  the  Cesars  and  the  state  of  the  Roman  cinpire  dis- 
missed where  the  history  of  the  apostles  commences,  there  would 
be  less  occasion  for  complaint  on  the  part  of  the  Christian  reader. 
He  might  then  pursue  the  theme  adopted  by  the  A\Tiler  without 
farther  interraption.  Even  common  readers  know  the  vexation 
occasioned  by  having  the  thread  of  an  instnictive  or  edifying  essay 
ever  and  anon  broken  off,  and  the  mind  thus  confused  and  distracted 
by  the  introduction  of  now  and  irrelevant  matter.  The  impression 
which  might  othcrivise  be  made  by  tlic  subject  is  weakened  and 
rendered  indistinct,  and  tlie  object  \vliich  all  writers  for  the  public 
should  have  in  view,  partially,  if  not  wholly,  defeated.  The  want 
of  unity  in  a  discourse  or  disscrlalion  is  a  fault  which  no  critic  can 
fail  to  detect;  and  \\hcre  this  fault  is  a  prominent  characteristic  of 
a  liferarjr  or  religious  production,  it  is  a  duty  which  the  reviewer 
owes  alike  to  the  author  and  the  public  to  notice  it. 

Had  we  room  we  could  adduce  numerous  instances  showing  that 
the  labored  production  of  our  aiuhor  is  extremely  defective  in  this 
respect.  Let  the  reader  turn  to  page  201  of  the  work,  and  read 
the  section  through,  and  then  ask  himself  what  single  sentence  or 
line  it  contains  to  indicate  that  it  is  a  part  of  a  dissertation  on  the 
lives  of  the  apostles.  It  stands  in  the  liody  of  the  work  thus  : — 
"  Herod  Ackipim. 

"At  this  time  the  monarch  of  the  Homan  world  was  Caius  Cesar, 
commonly  known  by  liis  siu-iwnic,  C'.ALiori.A.  Among  the  first  acts  of 
a  reign,  whoso  outset  was  dcscrvitlly  jinpiiinr  for  its  numerous  mani- 
festations of  jirudence  and  bonevokiice,  foniiiug  a  strange  contrast  with 
subsequent  tjTaniiy  and  folly,  was  tlie  advancement  of  a  tried  and 
faithful  friend  to  the  regal  honors  and  power  which  his  birth  entitled 
him  to  claim,  and  from  wldch  the  neglectful  indilTerence  at  first,  and 
afterward  the  revengeful  spile  of  the  preceding  Cesar,  Tiberius,  had 
long  exchiilcd  him.  This  was  1Ii:uod  Aonu'i-A,  grandson  of  that 
great  Herod,  who,  by  the  force  of  his  own  exalted  genius,  and  by  the 
favor  of  the  imperial  Aiia^nstus,  roso  from  the  place  of  a  friendless 
foreign  advcniurcr  to  the  km'jly  sway  of  all  Palestine.  This  extensive 
power  he  exercised  in  a  manner  wliich  was,  on  the  whole,  ultimately 
advantageous  to  his  subjects  ;  but  his  whole  reign,  and  the  later  years 
of  il  more  particularlv,  were  marked  by  cruelties  the  most  infamous,  to 
which  he  was  led  by  almost  insane  fits  of  wild  and  causeless  jealousy. 


IS'U.]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  13 

Oil  none  of  ihc  subjects  of  Lis  power  did  this  t_\Taniiical  fury  fall  with 
such  ficqiicnt  and  dreadful  visitations  as  on  his  own  family;  and  it  was 
ihcro  iti'ii.  in  liis  alternate  fits  of  fury  and  remorse,  he  was  often  made 
tlio  a\ ciuicr  of  his  own  victims.  Among  these  numerous  domestic  cru- 
ellies, one  of  the  earliest  and  the  most  distressing  v/as  the  murder  of  the 
aini:di!e  .Mariarane,  the  daughter  of  the  last  of  the  Asamonean  line  : — 

'  Herself  the  solitary  scion  left 
Of  a  tiinc-honorcd  race,' 

V.  liich  Herod's  remorseless  policy  had  exterminated.  Her  he  made  his 
wife,  and  after  a  few  years  sacrificed  her  to  some  wild  freak  of  jealousy, 
only  to  reap  long  years  of  agonizing  remorse  for  the  hasty  act,  when  a 
cooler  search  liad  shov.-n,  too  late,  her  stainless  innocence.  But  a 
pa.'.sioiiate  despot  never  yet  learned  wisdom  by  being  made  to  feel  the 
recoil  of  his  own  folly;  and  in  the  course  of  later  years  this  cruelty 
was  ccjiiallcd,  and  almost  outdone,  by  a  similiar  act,  committed  by  him 
on  iiiiise  whom  her  memory  shotdd  have  saved,  if  any  thing  could. 
Ti\e  iiiiiocent  and  unfortunate  IMariamne  left  him  two  sons,  then  mere 
chilJri  II,  whom  the  miserable,  repentant  tyrant  cherished  and  reared 
Willi  :ii\  alleclioiiate  care,  which  might  almost  have  seemed  a  partial 
aMtuntciit  for  the  injuries  of  their  murdered  mother.  After  some 
xcrtT^  passed  in  obtaining  a  foreign  education  at  the  imperial  court  of 
lU'iiif,  lliese  two  sons,  Alexander  and  Aristobulus,  returned  at  their 
father's  summons  to  his  court,  where  their  noble  qualities,  their 
eloquence,  and  manly  accomplishments,  as  well  as  the  interest 
excited  by  their  mother's  fate,  drew  on  them  the  favorable  and  admiring 
r'  -ard  of  the  whole  people.  But  all  that  made  them  admirable  and 
Miiialile  to  otliers  was  as  powerless  as  the  memory  of  their  mother  to 
sivt  ihem  from  the  fury  of  the  suspicious  tyrant.  Those  whoso  inte- 
r-'sis  cnuld  bo  promoted  by  such  a  course  soon  found  means  to  make 
ihtm  objects  of  jealousy  and  terror  to  him,  and  ere  long  involved  them  in  a 
pionndless  accusation  of  conspiring  against  his  dominion  and  life.  The 
uiio:i.>:iiicss  excited  in  llerod  by  their  great  popularity  and  their  command- 
in:;  laS.Mits,  led  liim  to  believe  tliis  charge  ;  and  tlie  wrelehed  old  king, 
t'.iinn  from  fear  to  jealou.sy,  and  from  jealousy  to  fury,  at  last  crowned 
!;:»  own  wrctchediiL'ss  and  their  wrongs  by  strangling  thom  both,  after 
ill  inip.'iMinment  of  so  great  a  length  as  to  lake  away  from  his  crime 
eyci  i!io  shadowy  excuse  of  hastiness.  This  was  one  of  tlie  last  acts 
of  iiis  bloody  life  ;  but  ere  he  died  returning  tenderness  toward  the  un- 
fonmiate  race  of  Mariamne  led  him  to  spare  and  cherish  the  infant 
clnldrcn  of  Aristobulus,  the  younger  of  the  two,  who  left  three  sons  and 
two  daughters  to  the  lender  mercies  of  his  cruel  father." 

Tims  docs  tlic  writer  of  the  "  Lives  of  the  Apostles"  introduce 
into  the  very  heart  of  jiis  work  a  portioii  of  Roincin  liistory,  which 
lie  coiilinucs  through  several  pages,  for  no  oilier  apparent  purpose 
l'i:i:i  to  inform  his  readers  that  at  a  certain  period  during  tlic  lives 
of  the  apostles,  Herod  Agrippa,  a  man  of  singular  and  various  for- 
tiiiic'),— now  a  beggar,  now  a  prisoner,  and  now  a  king, — reigned 


14  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [January, 

in  Palestine,  and  was  a  favorite  with  llie  Jews ;  and  that  under 
liis  reign  new  persecutions  broke  out  against  the  Christians.  All 
of  this  matter  which  was  in  any  way  relevant  to  the  subject  might 
have  been  told  in  ten  hncs,  and  the  narrative  of  the  apostles  left 
unbroken  and  complete.  This  certainly  would  liave  been  more 
creditable  to  the  author,  and  far  bL-ltcr  calculated  to  produce  the  de- 
sired impression  upon  the  minds  of  iiis  readers. 

In  this  connection  we  invite  attention  to  another  featiu-e  of  the 
author's  composition  which  descn'cs  a  passing  notice.  It  is  the 
inadaptalion  of  his  style  to  his  subject.  It  will  be  borne  in  mind 
that  the  life  of  .St.  Peter  is  the  subject  of  discourse  in  this  part  of 
the  work ;  and  the  mind  of  the  reader  is  natiu-ally  impatient  of 
whatever  keeps  it  in  suspense,  and  throws  in  the  distance  those 
prominent  features  of  the  apostle's  character,  and  incidents  in  his 
life,  which  constitute  the  materials  of  an  interesting  and  useful 
biography.  The  event  to  be  noticed  in  the  consecution  of  inci- 
dents, is  Peter's  remarkable  deliverance  from  the  prison  in  which 
he  was  confined  between  two  soldiers.  In  preparing  the  way  to 
bring  this  interesting  occurrence  before  the  minds  of  his  readers, 
the  author  has  already  carried  them  through  a  dozen  tedious  pages 
of  profane  history  in  a  style  indicated  by  the  extract  abo^'e ;  and 
now,  falling  into  the  subject  of  his  narrative,  he  occujiics  some 
ten  or  twelve  pages  more  in  descriliing,  in  the  same  verbose  and 
tedious  manner,  all  the  minute  circumstances,  real  or  imaginary, 
relative  to  the  latent  malice  of  the  Jews  against  the  disci])les,  the 
advantage  which  Agrippa's  favorable  disposition  toward  Jewish 
institutions  aflbrdcd  them  to  gralily  tliis  malice  b}' rekindling  the 
fii-es  of  persecution,  the  apprehension  and  imprisonment  of  the 
apostle,  the  ceremonies  and  .joyous  celebration  of  the  national  feast 
by  ihe  Jews,  and  the  solenm  musiniis  of  the  disciples,  as  well  as 
of  Peter  himself,  during  the  period  of  these  transactions,  with  many 
other  things  of  the  kind,  before  lie  commences  a  relation  of  that 
wonderful  deliverance,  which  is  rendered  the  more  interesting  and 
sublime  in  the  sacred  volume  by  being  narrated  in  a  manner  so 
concise,  simple,  and  unadorned.  As  a  sample  of  the  author's  method 
lake  the  following  paragraph,  in  which  he  describes  the  excitement 
and  consternation  tliat  a  discovery  of  Peters  escape  occasioned 
among  the  keepers  of  the  prison.     Jt  runs  thus  : — 


IS-ll.]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  15 

"  Morniii"  ilawnod  at  last  upon  the  towers  and  temple  columns  of  the 
liiily  ciiy.  On  the  golJ-sheetcJ  roofs  and  snowy-pillared  colonades  of 
lln-  lidiiso  of  God  the  sunlight  poured  with  a  splendor  hardly  more  glo- 
rious tli:in  the  insupportable  brilliancy  that  was  sent  back  from  their 
(!:iz/:hii;;  .surfaces,  streaming  like  a  new  morning  upon  the  objects  around, 
wiiosc-  nrarcr  sides  would  otherwise  have  been  left  in  shade  by  the 
tasUTii  rjys.  Castle  Antonia  shared  in  this  general  illumination,  and 
at  ihi'  lirst  blaze  of  simrise  the  order  of  Roman  service  announced  the 
liUMMcui  for  relieving  guard.  The  bustle  of  the  movement  of  the  new 
?'iurifs  toward  their  stands  must  at  last  have  reached  the  ears  of 
I't  ti-r's  forsaken  companions.  Their  first  waking  thoughts  v,-oulJ,  of 
roiir.se,  be  on  tlieir  responsible  charge,  and  they  now  became,  for  tlie 
first  time,  aware  of  the  important  deficiency.  But  they  had  not  much 
liinc  to  consider  their  misfortune,  or  condole  upon  it;  for  the  change  of 
ni-iiiriis  now  brought  to  the  door  the  quaternion  whose  turn  on  duty 
t.iiiK'  lu.-M.  iMoat  unco]nfortable  must  have  been  the  aspect  of  things 
lo  tin-  two  .-cntincis  who  had  been  keeping  their  steady  watch  outside 
ol  the  door,  and  who  shared,  ccpiall}'  witli  the  inside  keepers,  in  the 
liinlr<)irab!e  rcspnnsibililies  of  this  accident,''  &c. — Pp.  223,  221. 

.^i!ih  cxiravnganl  diction  might  be  tolerated  in  a  WTiler  of  no- 
irfi'TrTidiliou.s  iJes;  btit  no  rule  of  correct  crittcism  will  justify 
it  here,  v.licrc  tnilh  and  integrit)^  are  required  in  every  particular. 
'I")ic  liiaiuiful  picture  of  a  brilliant  and  sunny  morning  bursting 
i!pon  the  golden  cily  at  tliat  eventful  period,  so  vividly  drawn  by 
ibr  writer,  is  indeed  well  calculated  to  enliven  the  stoiy  and  ravish 
till-  foi-liiigs  of  gay  and  undevout  readers.  But  is  there  any  tiaith  in 
It'  \Vii;ii  evidence  is  there  lliat  a  darker  morning  ever  slu-ouded 
ilio  domes  and  towers  of  the  devoted  cily  than  that  identical  one 
\\h\c\\  i!ie  author's  fancy  lias  painted  in  such  lively  colors  ?  How 
Ji»:'-h  more  iniprcssive  and  sublime  is  the  simjile  statement  of  the 
in-j.ifcil  historian,  "There  was  no  small  slir  among  tlie  soldiers  to 
>.riov.  what  was  become  of  Peter,"  llian  all  this  pompous  display 
ui  Wordy  firiion  ! 

^\  <:  fiuniot  forbear  here  to  caution  the  readers  of  the  volume  in 
ijuest;.,;!  against  imbibing  incorrect  views  respecting  the  apostles, 
and  bvunc  important  incidents  connected  with  their  lives,  by  adinit- 
liM:.'  inio  their  minds  the  imaginary  descrijjiions  of  the  author  in  tiie 
y'iM-c  of  well  attested  truth.  Take  for  example  his  notice  of  the 
ifiMs. {juration.  The  record  of  this  occurrence  occupies  only  a  few 
^!l<■rt  verses  in  the  Scriptures.  0\xx  author  contrives  to  fdl  a  num- 
I" T  of  pages  in  amplifying  upon  it,  without  adding  either  instnic- 
l:'-'n  or  interest.  St..  Luke  says,  Clnist  and  his  disciples  went  up 
Jiito  the  mountain  to  pray.    The  fancy  of  our  author  prepares  them 


16  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [Januan', 

for  tlic  sublime  manifestation  of  the  divine  glory  tliey  are  thus  per- 
mitted to  witness,  by  a  very  different  influence  than  that  whicii  is 
])roduced  by  prayer.     Hear  him. 

"  Their  most  holy  liistorical  associations  were  connected  with  the 
tops  of  liigli  mountains,  removed  from  whicli  the  most  awful  scenes  of 
ancient  miracle  would,  to  ihe  fancy  of  the  dweller  of  mountainous  Pa- 
lestine, have  seemed  stripped  (if  llieir  most  imposing  aids.  JNIoriah, 
Sinai,  Horcb,  Ebal,  Gcrizim,  Zion,  and  Tabor,  were  the  classic  ground 
of  Hebrew  histor}-;  and  to  the  fiery  mind  of  the  imaginative  Israelite 
their  high  tops  seemed  to  tower  in  a  religious  sublimity,  as  striking  and 
as  lasting  as  llieir  physical  elevation.  From  these  lofty  peaks,  so  much 
nearer  to  the  dwelling-place  of  Gud,  his  soul  took  a  higlier  flight  than  did 
ever  the  fancy  of  the  Greek  from  the  classic  tops  of  Parnassus,  Ida, 
'Old  Pehon,  or  the  skyisli  licad  of  bh:e  Olympus  ;'  and  the  three  hum- 
ble gazers,  who  now  stond  v,:iiling  there  with  iheir  divine  Master,  felt, 
no  doubt,  their  devotion  iiroiiortioirildy  exalted  with  their  situation,  by 
such  associations.  It  was  tlie  same  s]iirit  that,  throughout  the  ancient 
world,  led  the  earliest  religionists  to  avail  tiiomselves  of  these  physical 
advantages,  as  they  did  in  their  mountain  worship,  and  with  a  success 
just  in  proportion  as  the  purity  and  sincerity  of  their  worship,  and  the 
high  character  of  its  object,  corresponded  with  the  lofty  grandeur  of 
the  place. 

'  Not  vainly  did  llic  early  Persian  make 
His  allar'tlic  liipli  phices,  and  the  peak 
Orcarlli-n"(T-f:i7,iiiL;  mountains,  there  to  seek 
The  Spirit  in  uhnsr  linnor  sliriiics  are  weak, 
UprearVI  of  human  liands.     Come  and  compare 
Cohmms  of  ulol-dv,cllint:s,  Goth  or  Greek, 
With  n.atnrc's  realms  of  worship,  earth  and  air, 
Kor  fix  on  fond  abodes  to  circuni-scriije  thy  prayer.'  " — P.  8S 

Tluis  are  we  taught  by  a  ProteslaiU  Clirislian  author  that  the 
adorable  Saviour,  to  prcjiare  his  rho.sen  disciples  to  witness  the 
most  magnificent  display  of  liis  glory  he  ever  deigned  to  cxliibit  to 
mortals  in  the  bod}',  of  set  purpose  beguiled  their  imagination  by 
scenes  of  grandeur,  calculated  to  produce  the  same  lofty  emotions 
of  sublimity  and  awe  in  the  fceling.s  of  the  deist,  the  heathen  idola- 
tor,  and  tlic  mere  scntinienUilist  professing  tiie  Christian  faith! 
That  such  emotion?  arc  often  mistaken  for  true  piety,  and  substi- 
tuted for  tlie  spirit  of  devotion,  we  have  little  reason  to  doubt. 
They  are  excited  not  only  by  the  romantic  grandeur  of  "  carth- 
o'cr-gav;ing  moinUains"— llic  high  ]ilaces  of  idolatiy — but  also  by  the 
sombre  aspect  of  the  stately  G'olhic  cathedral,  and  the  grave  tones 
of  the  majestic  organ,  aids  to  devotion  which  arc  sought  only  in  the 
absence  of  the  spirit /.f  it. 

It  was  by  that  abstractedness  of  llie  tliought.s  from  the  world,  and 


l(vll.]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  17 

iifc]>  devotion  of  heart  before  God,  which  continuous  and  ardent 
[irayor  produces,  and  not  by  dazzhng  the  imagination  witli  external 
!;r,iii.iour,  that  tlic  Saviour  prepared  the  disciples  for  the  manifcsta- 
liun  of  liis  ghiry  wliich  he  was  about  to  make  to  them.  Wiiat 
(ic'.iiT-niiiidcd  Christian  doubts  this?  Who,  therefore,  that  is  accus- 
tdiii'-d  to  employ  the  luiimpassioned  faculties  of  judgment  and  rea- 
.--.ni  ui  expounding  the  Scriptures,  will  admit  the  following  poetic 
cli'uiiun  as  a  just  interpretation  of  the  sacred  text? — 

"  In  short,  tliey  [the  three  disciples]  fell  asleep  ;  and  that,  too,  as  it 
woiilJ  appear,  in  tlic  midst  of  the  prayers  and  counsels  of  their  adorable 
Ixini.  *  *  *  In  such  a  state  [asleep  through  weariness]  were  the  bo- 
ilii-s  of  the  companions  of  Jesus  ;  and  thus  wearied,  they  slept  Ion?,  in 
«j'itc  of  the  siorni,  which  is  supposed  by  many  to  liave  arisen,  and  to 
hrive  been  the  immediate  cause  of  some  of  the  striking  appearances 
«hich  followed.  It  is  said,  by  many  standard  commentators,  that  the 
fiiu-^t  accoinit  of  such  of  the  incidents  as  are  connected  v.dth  natural 
•''■j'-.-;«.  is,  lliM  a  tremendous  thunder  storm  came  down  upon  the 
liviuiijsiii  wlnli-  lluy  were  asloc)>,  and  that  a  loud  peal  bursting  from 
'.hi«  «'i-»  iho  inuncdiate  cause  of  their  awaking.  All  the  details  that 
arc  r'nen  certainly  justify  the  supposition.  They  are  described  as 
".I'Mcidy  slnrting  from  their  sleep,  in  such  a  manner  as  would  naturally 
f>jlliivv  only  from  a  loud  noise  violently  nrousing  the  slumbering  senses. 
.\wakcncd  thus  by  a  peal  of  thunder,  the  tirst  sight  that  struck  their 
ani.-vzed  eyes  was  their  Master,  resplendent  through  the  darkness  of 
Jiii;!it  and  storm  with  a  brilliant  light,  that  so  shone  upon  him,  and 
covered  )nm,  as  to  change  his  whole  aspect  to  a  degree  of  glory 
sndescriliable. 

'•  'I'o  add  to  their  amazement  and  dread,  they  saw  that  he  was  not 
aJon«>,  but  two  mysterious  and  spiritual  personages,  announced  to 
'..n-i!s  us  Moses  and  Elijah,  were  now  his  companions,  having  fomul 
t:>f  jiig  lo  join  liini,  thou!;h  high  on  the  ndghty  rock,  alone  and  in  dark- 
rirt^.  BO  inaccfssiblf  to  human  approach.  These  two  ancient  servants 
<i  (kkI  now  npjiL-ared  with  his  beloved  Son,  whose  labors,  and  doc- 
tr;:.f »,  :.iid  iriunjphs  were  so  far  to  transcend  theirs  ;  and  in  the  hear- 
ing ol  the  three  apostles  uttered  solemn  words  of  prophecy  about  his 
approaching  death,  and  triumph  over  death.  The  two  sons  of  Zebedec 
Were  so  startled  as  to  be  speechless  ;  but  the  boldness  and  talkativeness 
of  Peter,  always  so  pre-eminent,  enabled  lum,  even  here,  to  speak  his 
deep  awe  and  reverence.  Yet  confused  with  half-awakened  sleep,  and 
sUnme.l  by  the  bursting  thunder,  he  spoke  as  a  man  thus  suddenly  awaked 
naturally  speaks,  scarcely  separating  the  thoughts  of  his  dream  from  the 
objects  th.-it  met  his  oj)ening  eye,  he  said,  'Lord,  it  is  good  for  us  to  bo 
l«'Tc- ;  anil  if  thou  will,  let  us  make  three  tabernacles,  (or  resting  places,) 
<-i'e  for  thee,  one  for  Moses,  and  one  for  Elijah.'  These  things  he  said 
>■•  ^-.Ti'  his  cunfu.-;ed  thoughts  could  fully  arrange  themselves  into  words 
jTo;,.  r  lo  txijress  his  J'eelings  of  awe  ;  and  he,  half  dreaming  still, 
.lardJy  knew  what  he  said.     But  as  he  uttered  these  words,  the  dark 


IQ  Lives  of  iltc  Apostles.  [January, 

cloud  a»>ov.'  them  sua.lcnlv  aosccndcd  upon  the  moimtain's  head,  en- 
v,i:>|.|.iii;;  ami  overall;. aov  111.';  tliem;  and  amid  iho  flash  of  lighljiings 
a::. I  i!i.'Vo:ir  of  llitiiiilrrs,  i^iMii  out  ill  the  coucnssion,  they  dislin- 
ru>lK.l,  in  110  human  voice,  llicse  awful  words,  '  This  is  ray  beloved 
.di,  la'wliom  I  am  well  phrased  ;  hear  ye  him.'  Who  can  wonder 
llixt'a  phoiioini-noii  so  trtnicndous,  both  morally  and  physically,  over- 
vrln-lnird  ihcir  senses  ;  and  thai,  alarmed  beyond  measure,  they  fell 
n;'>iu  on  iheir  faces  to  the  carih  ;  so  astonished,  that  they  did  not  dare 
»<>  riM-  ir  look  np,  until  Jesus  eamc  to  them,  and  reassured  tliem  with 
).;»  fiundl)  touch,  sayiti'r,  'Arise,  and  be  not  afraid.'  And  lifting  up 
I'.fir  rv.->i'  llii-y  saw' no  man  any  more,  save  Jesus  only,  with  them- 

c<i.r..--_iv.n. '.'!). 

.\.i.i  t.i  the  ].!ivsic;il  agents  here  employed  by  the  author  only  a 
f.i\  innic,  which  his  inventive  imagination  might  easily  supply,  and 
if-  ntturaiiy  skeptical  reader  might  be  Icfl'to  doubt  whether  the 
who!.'  couh!  not  be  resolved  into  an  illusion  practiced  upon  the 
»^-i!.<.-!t  of  the  half-slcej)ing,  half-dreaming,  tciTified  apostles,  artfully 
J.-.-oyf(i  into  a  dark  motmtain  on  the  approach  of  a  stonn,  and  there 
li.-'.Airici.  witnessing  the  prayers  and  listening  to  the  discourses  of 
s'nrir  .Ma--!cr,  until  the  excitement  of  their  feelings,  occasioned  by 
Oj'  n.lrciii  trrandctir  of  the  scene,  had  subsided,  and  they  sunk 
*ri:]i  the  words  they  heard  gradually  dying  upon  their  ears,  and  the 
i.riisfination.s  of  llicir  thoughts  turning  into  dreams,  at  the  happy 
j'lrv.-nm*,  wlicn  the  ajiproaching  tempest  was  about  to  biu-st  upon 
c!K;r  h'  .tIk,  to  rouse  ihcm  by  its  tremendous  peals  to  witness,  amid 
l},e  rt-vlies  of  tlic  lightnings,  the  wonderful  phenoinena,  in  a  state 
of  ntind  lojusi  of  all  qualifying  them  to  judge  of  the  reality  of  the 
lliiii:;*  iliey  •'■'aw  and  licard  !  Such  an  interpretation  might  satisfy 
tt  <<'nii.in  iicologist  or  semi-deist;  but  a  devout  and  well  instracted 
I'Icf  i«!i.-\n  cannot  peruse  it  without  feelings  of  disgust  at  the  fictitious 
4«xjni;.;;u!-.8  of  the  imaginative  author,  calculated  only  to  obscure 
Ov  fu.iy  and  depreciate  the  moral  lustre  of  that  sublime  and  most 
i.v,ftcsiin.7  iiuraclc,  of  which  he  presumes  to  treat  without  ruider- 
rtirtimc  Its  true  rhiiracter  or  design. 

TLtrr  cut  of  llic  four  evangelists  record  this  wonderful  trans- 
fctk^xi  wiihoui  any  material  diflfercncc.  Neither  of  them  say  any 
iJii.-.j'  ftlv.ul  Its  tran.spiring  in  ihc  night,  or  being  attended  by  a 
«ri;ijK-s.i,  or  the  ajjosilcs  being  suddenly  awaked  from  a  long  and 
pr^'f-Aind  fclcep.  The  narratives  are  exceeding^  simple,  and  con- 
Um  few  incidents.  ,  And  every  thing  recorded  by  the  inspired 
IjiloTiarw  bears  clear  evidence  of  supernatural  agency.     That  it 


1941.]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  19 

was  or  was  not  in  the  night  we  have  no  means  positively  to  decide. 
'I'his,  liowcver,  is  a  circumstance  of  httle  importance.  That  the 
di<ci])li-s  "fell  asleep,"  "slept  long,"  and  were  roused  from  this 
di-i-|)  and  long  sleep  by  loud  peals  of  thunder  bursting  forth  from  a 
cloud  hanging  over  the  mountain,  we  have  no  reason,  from  any 
tliiiii;  coniaiiicd  in  the  sacred  text,  even  to  conjecliu-e.  One  of  the 
cva:igclisls  (Luke)  says,  indeed,  "  Peter  and  they  that  were  with 
liini  were  heavy  with  sleep."  At  what  period  of  the  transaction 
lliey  were  in  this  slate,  or  what  was  the  cause  or  the  precise  nature 
of  il,  docs  not  clearly  appear.  That  the  transfiguration  took  place 
"b(fi)rc  the  disciples,'"  and  in  a  way  to  be  testified  to  by  them,  and 
l!i:il  Moses  and  Elias  "  appeared  unto  them"  immediatel_y  succeed- 
ing llie  yaviour's  praying,  and  without  the  intervention  of  any  other 
m-ilerial  circumstance,  all  the  narratives  plainly  show. 

Without  supposing  that  the  disciples  were  literally  asleep,  the 
l)iM:r.-il  st\uleiil  will  find  a  satisfactory  elucidation  of  the  circum- 
nUjiic  mentioned  by  Luke,  and  by  him  only,  in  Dan.  viii,  18,  and 
1,  0.  Tiie  events  that  are  there  recorded  respecting  the  prophet 
arc  so  similar  to  those  here  stated  respectmg  the  apostles,  that  it 
.-corns  quite  natural  to  conclude  the  evangelist  had  his  eye  upon 
llu'ui,  and  employed  the  language  they  suggested  in  describing  the 
Male  of  feeling  experienced  by  "  Peter  and  those  that  were  with 
liini,"  during  this  extraordinary  manifestation  of  the  divine  presence 
nnd  glory.  Daniel,  to  be  sure,  calls  it  a  deep  sleep.  But  it  was 
not  a  natural  sleep.  "  Yet  heard  I,"  said  he,  "  the  voice  of  liis 
wonln  ;  and  when  I  heard  the  voice  of  his  words,  then  was  I  in  a 
liccj.  sleep  on  my  face,  and  my  face  toward  the  ground.  And,  be- 
l.iM,  ;i  h.uid  touched  me,  which  set  me  upon  my  knees  and  upon 
l.'ic  jKilnis  of  my  hands,"  Dan.  x,  9.  It  was  a  state  analogous  to 
sl'.'cj),  in  that  the  mind  was  wholly  abstracted  from  tlie  world  ;  and 
o;!  ihat  account  denominated,  by  a  strong  figure,  "  a  deep  sleep." 
Hut  unlike  natural  sleep,  in  which  all  the  faculties  are  temporarily 
8usi)cnded,  so  that  nothing  is  perceived  clearly  or  correctly,  this 
Ijcing  produced  by  an  overAvhelming  sense  of  the  divine  presence, 
peculiarly  qualified  the  prophet  for  a  clearer  perception  of  the  divine 
manitestations.  Li  this  case  it  was  experienced  in  its  highest  de- 
gree. And  is  there  not  reason  to  suppose  that  the  same  was 
iii'.oiidcd,  though  in  a  lower  degree,  by  what  Luke  says  of  the  dis- 
cip.es?  "And  as  he  prayed,"  says  the  sacred  historian,  "the  fashion 


20  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [Januarj', 

of  his  countenance  was  altered,  and  liis  raiment  was  while  and 
ghstcring.  xVnd,  behold,  llierc  talked  witli  them  two  men,  which 
were  Moses  and  Elius;  who  a]ji)earcd  in  glory,  and  spake  of  his 
decease  which  he  should  accomphsh  at  .1  crasalcm."  The  sudden 
ushering  in  of  these  events,  and  the  soul-appalling  conversation 
which  they  heard  about  the  sufferings  of  Clirisl,  so  fdled  the  minds 
of  the  disciples  with  awe  and  amazement,  that  they  were  for  the 
moment  absorbed  and  lost  in  a  vision  of  deep  and  melancholy  gloom, 
wliich  has  a  tendency  to  produce  heaviness  and  sleep ;  but  on  be- 
holding his  glory,  and  inferring  from  the  manifestation  of  it  a  bet- 
ter omen,  they  waked  up  to  a  clearer  and  more  distinct  perception 
of  what  was  passing  before  them ;  "  and  Peter  said,  Lord,  it  is 
good  for  us  to  be  here."  Tiien  tiie  approach  of  the  cloud,  betoken- 
ing a  still  farther  exhibition  of  the  divine  presence,  and  the  voice 
out  of  the  cloud,  so  overawed  them,  that,  like  Daniel  in  the  case 
referred  to,  and  Saul,  wlien  Christ  appeared  to  iiim  on  his  way  to 
Damascus,  they  fell  "on  their  faces,  and  were  sore  afraid." 

All  this  seems  natural,  and  adapted  to  the  high  state  of  excited 
feeling  which  the  occasion  must  have  produced.  But  the  alleged 
long  and  natm-al  sleep  of  the  disciples,  which  finds  no  support  in 
the  sacred  te.\t,  is  contradicted  by  every  incident  in  the  naiTatives 
given  by  the  evangelists,  as  well  as  the  fact,  that  these  very  disci- 
ples were  to  be  the  witnesses,  and  tlie  only  witnesses,  of  all  that 
transpired  on  that  occasion;  and  to  their  testimony  we  are  indebted 
for  all  we  know  respecting  it. 

Tlie  thunder  storm,  described  in  sucli  glowing  terais  by  the  au- 
thor, we  hesitate  not  to  pronounce  a  fiction,  unworthy  of  a  Chris- 
tian writer,  and  highly  derogatory  to  the  credit  of  the  evangelical 
record.  True,  the  author  says,  "  It  is  said,  by  many  standai'd 
commentators,  that  the  fairest  account  of  such  of  the  incidents  as 
arc  connected  with  natural  objects,  is,  that  a  tremendous  thunder 
storm  came  down  upon  the  mountain  wliile  they  were  asleep,  and 
tliat  a  loud  peal  of  thunder,  bursting  from  this,  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  their  awaking."  But  he  docs  not  tell  us  who  these  stand- 
ai-d  commentators  are.  The  reader  may  rest  assured  that  he  will 
look  in  vain  for  them  among  oiu"  approved  English  conmientators 
and  theologians  ;  thougli  from  this  unqualified  appeal  to  accredited 
authority  he  may  be  led  to  suppose,  without  examining  for  himself, 
that  these  generally  conciu:  in  the  view  the  author  has  given.    It  is 


ISII.]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  21 

iiropor  Iioro  lo  sny,  tliat  liis  entire  exposition  of  tliis  miracle,  and  espe- 
cial! v  tliis  part  of  it,  savors  much  of  the  neology  of  German  schools, 
lliai  Imiio  of  pure  Christianity,  which  lias  inundated  nearly  half  the 
iDiiiJiiont  of  Europe  ;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  divines  who 
h:ivo  adopted  this  semi-infidel  scheme  are  the  "standard  commen- 
I  >tiir>"  nji[H'alcd  to  by  the  iratcr  in  support  of  his  interpretation  of 
ih>-  niiniolc  of  transfigm-ation.  There  is  the  more  reason  to  place 
tin-  n-adcrs  of  this  volume  upon  their  guard,  as  the  seeds  of  this 
r.icitrii  and  corrupt  theolog)'  are  evidently  contained  in  many  por- 
jjuns  of  it." 

•  SiTK-o  iliC  nl>ovc  was  written,  the  following  remarks  of  Dr.  Adam  Clarke, 
wlirli  ari'  fiiuiiJ  appended  to  his  notes  on  the  17th  chapter  of  Jtatihew,  Ijave, 
in  out  course  of  reading,  come  under  our  notice.  The  appropriate  bearing  of 
l>irv  r'-iii.irks  ufion  the  present  qneilion  had  not  before  so  particularly  struck  our 
»r'.rr.i:.>n ;  ajul  we  insert  them  hero  in  confirmation  of  what  we  liave  stated, 
l!.ii  \ix  »i>liiiiw  hcfi)rc  us  is  strongly  tinctured  with  the  foreign  theology  to 
«!,irh  u.-  lunc  referred.     Dr.  C,  speaking  of  the  transfiguration,  says, — 

*■  Some  foreign  critics,  who  are  also  called  divines,  have  stripped  it,  by  their 
m  »!(!  "f  inlerjiretation,  of  all  its  strength,  use,  and  meaning.  With  them  it  is 
ihcit  III  be  understood  : — '  Jesus,  with  the  disciples,  Peter,  James,  and  John, 
«rni  by  night  into  a  mountain,  for  the  purpose  of  prayer  and  meditation. 
\V!.ilc  thus  engaged,  the  animal  spirits  of  the  disciples  were  overcome  by 
vak'hinj  and  fatigue,  and  they  fell  asleep.  In  this  sleep  they  dreamed,  or 
l'<irr  only  dreamed,  iliat  he  saw  his  Master  encompassed  with  glorious  light, 
nj'l  ihit  Mo.scs  and  Elijah  were  conversing  with  him.  That  early  in  the  raorn- 
la;,  j'jM  as  the  sun  was  rising,  there  happened  some  electric,  or  thunder-like 
fvi-lrtnimi,  (a  thing  not  unfrequent  near  some  mountains,)  by  which  the  disci- 
ji'B  wire  HUilJonly  awoke  ;  that  Peter,  whose  mind  was  strongly  impressed 
fiv'j  lii«  dmn>,  seeing  the  rising  sun  rise  gloriously  upon  liis  Master,  and  his 
"..•"••ij'.v  impressed  senses  calling  to  remembrance  his  late  vision,  he  for  a 
r.Kxuri.\  i.'iiagmed  he  saw,  not  only  the  glory  of  which  he  had  dreamed,  but  the 
fi-v^ns  also,  .^toses  and  Elijah,  still  standing  on  the  mount  with  Christ  :  that 
t'H  l»-;r,;;  vet  sufficiently  awake,  finding  the  images  impressed  on  his  imagina- 
K.aa  f.tiiing  away  with  his  returning  exercise  of  reason,  he  cried  out,  before 
lie  ».\s  aware,  Lord!  it  is  good  for  us  lo  he  here;  let  us  make  three  taler- 
r.irtd,  &c. ;  but  in  a  short  time,  having  recovered  the  regular  use  of  his  senses, 
h"  i<Tceived  that  it  was  a  dream;  and  having  told  it  to  our  Lord  and  his 
bi'i'.hiT  disciples,  lest  the  Jews  might  take  occa.sion  of  jealousy  from  it,  he 
W11  d.-Firrd  to  tell  the  vision  to  no  man.'  This  is  the  substance  of  that  strange 
«Ji!.iM:iii(>n  given  by  those  learned  men  to  this  extraordinary  transaction; 
»  H">d,-  of  interjiret.ation  only  calculated  to  support  that  system  which  makes 
'■  *"  ""Portant  point  to  deny  and  decry  all  supernatural  and  miraculous  influ- 
rn-:.'.  and  lo  cxphdn  away  all  the  spirituality  of  the  New  Testament,    ^^'hat- 

VOL.  J. —2 


22  Lives  of  tJie  Apostles,  [January', 

The  author's  last  fancy,  the  "duj-k  cloud"  is  most  absurd  of  all. 
It  is  in  direct  opposition  to  the  explicit  declaration  of  the  tliree 
evangelists,  who  designate  it  as  a  bright  cloud;  and  also  to  ^vhat 
is  supposed  by  oux  ablest  and  most  evangelical  commentators  to 
have  been  designed  by  it.  Let  the  candid  reader  compare  his  ter- 
rific description  of  "a  dark  cloud  suddenly  descending  upon  the 
momitaiu's  head,  cn%\Tapping  and  overshadowing"  the  apostles,  and 
of  a  voice,  "amid  tlic  flash  of  lightnings,  and  the  roar  of  thmiders," 
&c.,  with  the  following  excgctical  interpretation  of  the  occurrence 
by  tliat  profound  Biblical  scholar  and  eminent  divine.  Bishop  Por- 
leus,  and  he  will  perceive  the  justness  of  the  rcmai-k  just  made. 
"  The  cLoun,"  says  Bishop  Porteus,  "  is  the  well-lcnown  token  of 
tlic  divine  presence  luidcr  the  law.  I^Iany  instances  of  it  occiu:  in 
the  Old  Testament,  but  more  particularly  at  the  giving  of  the  law 
on  Mount  Sinai.  On  the  mountain  where  our  Saviour  was  trans- 
figured a  new  law  was  declared  to  have  taken  place ;  and,  there- 
fore, God  again  appeared  in  a  cloud.  But  there  is  one  remarkable 
difference  between  these  manifestations  of  the  di\-ine  presence.  On 
j\Iount  Sinai  the  cloud  was  dark  and  thick;  'and  there  were  thmi- 
ders, and  lightnings,  and  tlie  voice  of  the  trumpet  exceeding  loud, 
and  all  the  people  tliat  were  in  the  camp  trembled.'  At  the  trans- 
figuration, on  the  contrar}',  the  cloud  was  bi-ight;  the  whole  scene 
was  luminous  and  transporting,  and  nothing  was  heard  but  the  mild 
paternal  voice  of  the  Almighty,  expressing  his  delight  in  his  beloved 
Son.  These  striking  difTercnces,  and  the  two  appearances,  evi- 
dently point  out  the  different  tcm]iers  of  tlie  two  dispensations,  of 
which  the  former,  from  its  severity,  was  more  calcidated  to  excite 
terror;  the  latter,  from  its  gentleness,  to  inspire  love." — Port. 
Ser.,  p.  232. 

We  liave  extended  our  strictures  on  this  point,  not  because  it  is 
more  particularly  obnoxious  to  criticism  than  some  other  portions 
of  the  work,  but  for  the  purpose  of  exhibiting  in  one  view  the  objec- 
tion to  which  it  is  liable  as  a  whole,  namely,  the  concealment  of 
anti-evangelical  principles  under  the  attractive  covering  of  a  popular 
and  fascinating  style.     As  this  is  a  production  of  some  magnimde, 

ever  ingenuihj  may  be  in  ihis  prnlendcd  chicidation,  every  unprejudiced  person 
must  see  that  it  can  never  be  brought  to  accord  with  tlic  letter  and  concomi- 
tant circumstances  of  this  remarkable  case." 
2* 


]v;}l_]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  23 

.-Hid  (IcsimcJ  to  be  a  standard  work  for  both  professional  aiid  gene- 
[;t!  reader.--,*  it  is  a  matter  of  no  small  importance  that  they  should 
ho  ;,'u:i!drd  ai^ainst  incautiously  imbibing  any  insidious  poison  it 
ni:iv  rontain.t 

'i'lu-  Joclrinal  enois  inculcated  in  this  work  are  too  palpable 
aiul  obvious  to  mislead  the  intelligent  reader.  Some  of  the  exploded 
il..,Miias  of  poperj',  particularly  the  supremacy  of  St.  Peter,  and  its 
i-.v.;iiate  absurdities,  ai-e  boldly  asserted  and  elaborately  vindicated 
Uy  llie  aullior.  Indeed,  wlien  we  first  read  a  few  paragraphs  in 
ilie  work,  upon  which  we  incidentally  opened,  touching  this  topic,  we 
v.,-r<-.  ill  doubt  whether  the  \vi-iter  might  not  be  a  Jesuit  in  disguise. 
Bill  (ilher  parts  of  it  soon  convinced  us  that  this  was  impossible. 

•  'no.  second  edition,  now  in  circulation,  is  stereotyped. 

I  Tlio  fullowing  is  the  author's  view  of  the  miracle  of  the  "  cloven 
•..- . -\!i-t,"  A'c,  rcciirJed  in  tlie  second  cliapter  of  the  Acts  : — 

"  Mr  own  (ijiitiiiin  of  llie  nn/iirc  of  this  whole  phenomenon  is,"  he  says, 
•".hi*,  of  .Nlichriclis,  Uo.?enm\illcr,  Paulus,  and  Kuinoel, — that  a  tremendous 
t4-!.i;<-jj  leiually  descended  at  the  time,  hringing  down  clouds  highly  charged 

V  it)i  electricity,  whicli  was  not  discharged  in  tlic  usual  mode,  by  thunder  and 
!i;?htninfr,  hut  quietly  streamed  from  the  air  to  the  earth,  and  wherever  it 
('.-.A-i-J  from  tlie  air  upon  any  tolerable  conductor,  it  made  itself  manifest  in  the 
dsiUnrss  occa.sioncd  by  the  thick  clouds,  in  the  form  of  those  pencils  of  rays, 
«  nh  w  hii-li  every  one  is  familiar  who  has  seen  electrical  experiments  in  a  dark 
t04>:n ;  and  which  are  well  described  by  the  expression,  'cloven  tongues  of 
fje.'  'I'hc  temple  itself  being  covered  and  spiked  with  gold,  the  best  of  all 
lo-.iduclors,  would  quietly  draw  off  a  vast  quantity  of  electricity,  which,  pass- 
i''-3  tliroa^h  tlie  building,  would  thus  manifest  itself  on  those  within  tlie  ch-jm- 
i<rr»  c.f  i!ip  tctnplc,  if  we  may  suppose  the  apostles  to  have  been  there 

Wr  w  ill  iifii  dcuin  the  reader  to  present  the  arguments  urged  in  support  of 
iSr.s  of.inion,  nor  yet  to  show  their  futility,  as  our  only  purpose  in  making  this 
f xt.'jcl  is  to  exhibit  a  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  work  to  which  we  have 
s.;^  <»ncd.  The  writer  need  not  to  have  taken  the  trouble  to  inform  his  readers 
of  h;i  ready  acquiescence  in  the  opinions  of  the  authors  he  names.  This  is 
tufiicjcntly  evident,  not  only  in  this,  but  in  other  particulars,  without  his  men- 
li'inms;  it.  It  has  been  well  said,  by  a  judicious  critic,  in  regard  to  Jlichaclis's 
IntroJuciiou  to  the  Kew  Testament,  which  has  lately  been  recommended  to 
f\M:c  notice  in  a  translation,  with  notes,  by  Marsh,  for  some  time  resident  at 
Lriivsic,  that  it  "  exhibits  great  learning  and  deep  research,  but  doubts  and 
'.vpucisms  are  occasionally  introduced,  which  capriciously  altering  the  text 
"'  "■"-  ^nse,  undermine  the  authority  of  Scripture,  and  lessen  the  respect 

V  i.ich  should  be  paid  to  the  ftispired  writings."— Dr.  Blaie. 


24  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [January, 

Yet  he  has  made  concessions  and  assumed  positions  wliich  show 
him  to  be  at  least  a  very  inconsistent  Protestant.  Althougli  his 
Avork  is  entitled,  "The  Lives  of  the  Apostles  of  Jesus  Clirist,"  yet 
more  than  two  liundred  and  forty  pages  of  it  liave  tlie  name  of  Pe- 
ter in  the  nmning  title.  Tliis  apostle  occupied,  in  the  estimation 
of  the  author,  such  a  prominent  position  in  the  primitive  Christian 
cluircli,  that  little  besides  his  life  and  labors  seemed  necessaiy  to 
complete  its  history. 

He  was  its  "foundation"  the  "  rock"  on  whicli  it  was  built ; 
the  "  chief  apostle"  sustaining  a  "  perfcclhj  commanding  pre-emi- 
nencc;"  and  the  honored  bearer  of  its  sacred  "  keys."  Such  are 
the  views  set  forth  b}'  our  author,  and  inculcated  in  evciy  pos- 
sible form  tliroughoul  his  work. 

That  we  may  not  be  susjiectcd  of  stating  the  case  in  too  strong 
terms,  we  beg  to  refer  the  reader  to  the  work  itself,  as  evidence  of 
the  justness  of  the  language  here  employed.  The  author,  as  his 
object  seems  to  be  to  convince  the  reader  of  Peter's  absolute  pre- 
eminence before  lie  dismisses  him,  arranges  his  course  with  the  skill 
of  a  master;  and  in  the  very  commencement  makes  an  effort  to 
dislodge  from  the  mind,  before  it  is  at  all  apprised  of  his  object, 
every  impression  that  the  distinction  which  was  given  to  Peter 
among  the  apostles  might  be  accounted  for  on  the  gi-ound  of  se- 
niority, by  a  labored  arginnent  to  show  that  he  was  younger  than 
his  brother  Andrew.  From  this  preliminary,  the  design  of  which 
the  reader  scarcely  perceives  at  first,  we  aic  carried  forward,  step 
by  step,  until,  to  cap  the  climax,  wc  arc  presented  with  the  papal 
dogma  of  Peter's  absolute  supremacy  without  disguise.  Take  the 
following  extracts  : — 

"To  draw  from  ihem  the  distinct  acknowlcd-^'ment  of  their  belief  in 
him,  Jesus  at  last  plainly  a^ki'd  liis  disciples,  '  lUit  who  do  you  say  that 
I  am?'  Simon  Peter,  in  liis  usual  cliaracter  as  spokesman,  replied  for 
the  whole  band,  'Thou  art  the  Christ,  ilio  .Son  of  the  living  God.'  Je- 
sus, recogni/iiig  in  this  prompt  answer  tlic  fiery  and  devoted  spirit 
that  would  follow  the  great  work  of  redemption  through  life,  and  at  last 
to  death,  replied  to  the  zealous  speaker  in  terms  of  marked  and  exalted 
honor,  prophcs)-ing  at  the  same  time  thehigli  part  which  he  would  act 
in  spreadiu'j  and  strennthe]iiiiir  the  kingdom  ol'  liis  Master:  'Blessed 
art  thou,  Simon,  son  ofJonali,  lor  flesh  andhlood  have  not  revealed  this 
unto  thee,  hut  my  Fatlicr  who  is  in  heaven.  And  I  say  also  unto  thee, 
tliat  thou  art  a  rock;  and  on  this  kock  I  will  huild  my  church,  and  the 
gates  of  hell  shall  not  pre%ail  against  it.    And  I  will  give  thee  the  keys 


J  v^.}  1 .]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  25 

of  llip  kinjjJoni  of  heaven;  and  wliatsocver  thou  slialt  bind  on  earth, 
^ll.lll  lio  ImjuiuI  in  heaven  ;  and  whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  on  earth, 
hh.-ili  tx'  loosed  in  heaven.'  In  such  high  terms  was  the  chief  apostle 
ili5liii"i;islR'd,  and  thus  did  his  Master  peculiarly  commission  liiui  above 
i.hc  icM,  for  the  high  oi!icc  to  which  all  the  energies  of  his  remaining  life 
were  lo  bo  devoted." — P.  70. 

In  vindication  of  this  liigh  ground  the  aullior  employs  the  follow- 
ini;  hmguage  in  tlie  fomi  of  a  note  : — 

•* '  'I'hoH  art  a  rock,'  &c.  This  is  the  just  translation  of  Peter's 
n-.iMO,  and  the  force  of  the  declaration  is  best  understood  hy  this  ren- 
i!i  riiif;.  A.s  it  stands  in  the  original,  it  is,  '  Thou  art  Jlirpor,  (Pctros, 
'i  rork,')  and  on  this  nirpa  (Pctra,  'a  rock')  I  will  build  ray  church;' — 
n  ji|:iv  on  the  words  so  palpable,  that  great  injustice  is  done  to  its  force 
I'V  .1  connnon,  lame,  unexplained  Iraiislation.  The  variation  of  the 
wujdi  ill  the  Greek,  from  the  masculine  to  the  feminine  termination, 
tnskcs  no  ilifl'crcnce  in  the  expression.  In  the  Greek  Testament  the 
(rijuinin.-,  r/r/jn,  (prtra,)  is  the  only  form  of  the  word  used  as  the  common 
».«'iiri  I'lT  '  ruck  ;'  but  the  masculine,  -t-rpof,  {pctros,)  is  used  in  the  most 
t',:;-.>.!ird  cl.■l^Mc  wrucrs  of  the  ancient  Greek,  of  the  Ionic,  Doric,  and 
Al'.jc.  a>  llciuur,  Herodotus,  Pindar,  Xenophon,  and,  in  the  later  order 
<>(  writers,  Dioilonis  Siculus.  H.  Stephens  gives  the  masculine  form 
i.k  l]ii-  priniilivc,  but  Schneider  derives  it  from  the  feminine. 

"Tins  simple  and  natural  construction  has,  however,  seemed  to 
nuny  of  ancient  and  modern  times  to  be  so  replete  with  difliculties, 
•mk!  m)  irri:concilable  with  their  notions  of  the  character  of  Peter,  and 
w  nil  ihi-  cxicMt  of  the  honor  implied  in  the  words,  that  they  have  sought 
o'.!;.Tni(.idcsofiulcrprctation.  *  *  *  The  greatmajority  of  the  /I^Z/icri'con- 
^idl•r  the  words  as  relerring  primarily  to  Peter,  though  this  opinion  is 
ratiiiij!-ly  qiiahlied,  in  diflerent  passages,  by  such  remarks,  as  '  that  it 
tta*  upon  Ftlcr's  failli,  rather  than  upon  Peter  himself,  that  the  church 
«5i»  loundcd ;' — a  nicely  that  may  well  be  characterized  as  'a  distinc- 
«-"a  niiliout  a  Uilu-rence  ;'  for  who  supposes  that  the  church  could  bo 
«.i.  1  l-i  l>c  finiiuli-d  u|)on  Peter,  in  any  more  personal  sense,  than  that 
!.;«  xi-il,  i.iiiii,  devotion,  and  energy,  on  this  occasion  manifested,  should 
.-r  ihr.  M-Jjve  means  of  establishing,  e.xtcnding,  and  governing  the 
« huirti  of  [hat  Lord  whom  he  had  declared  to  be  "the  Christ?" — P.  72. 

'1  III-  fcn»c  in  whieh  the  expression  is  understood  to  apply  to  Pe- 
ter s  f.iith,  the  author  evidently  docs  not  correctly  apprehend,  as  we 
!in.;lil  clearly  show,  would  our  prescribed  hmits  permit.  But  this 
!)■  liic  less  necessary,  as  lie  rests  the  argument  upon  a  verbal  con- 
itruriion  of  the  sentence.     He  tlius  proceeds  : — 

^"  The  principles  of  syntax  require  that  the  words,  '  this  rock,'  should 
•'f.iT  U)  some  substantive  already  expressed;  and  since  there  is  no 
'i;.  !i  all-tract  noun  in  the  passage  as  'faith,'  but,  on  the  contrary,  the 
iiaiTif  of  I'fter  is  just  befoic  mentioned  with  a  palpable  allusion  to  the 
ymrouomasria  of  Feiros  and  Pctra,  every  rule  of  grammar  and  common 


26  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [January, 

sfiiise  makes  it  necessary  to  infer  that  Jesus  applied  the  words,  '  tliis 
rock'  to  Peter." 

Having  thus  unequivocally  asserted  tlie  doctrine,  that  the  Sa- 
noiur  applied  the  words,  "  this  rock,"  to  Peter ;  and,  by  conse- 
quence, that  it  was  upon  Pclcr,  the  apostle,  that  he  declared  he 
would  build  his  church,  our  author  carries  the  sentiment  throughout 
his  work,  everywhere  paying  to  him  llu:  honors  due  to  an  acknow- 
ledged head — the  '^foundation"  and  "  divinely  instituted"  ruler 
"  of  the  church." 

In  commenting  ii])on  Acts  v,  15,  he  tises  this  strong  language: — 
"  '  T/ie  shadow  of  Peter.'  Tliis  is  one  of  a  vast  number  of  passages 
which  show  ihc  liich  and  perfectly  commanding  pre-eminence  of  this 
apostolic  chief.  The  peojile  evidently  considered  Peter  as  concen- 
trating all  the  divine  and  niiraciiluns  power  in  his  own  person,  and  had 
no  idea  at  all  of  obtaining  Ik  iiclit  from  any  thing  that  the  minor  apos- 
tles could  do.  In  him,  alone,  ihcy  saw  the  manifestations  of  divine 
power  and  authority; — he  spoke,  and  preached,  and  healed,  and  judged, 
and  doomed,  while  the  rest  had  nothing  to  do  but  assent  and  aid.  Peter, 
then,  was  the  great  pastor  of  the  church;  and  it  is  every  way  desirable 
that  ovcr-zoalous  Protcsianls  would  find  some  better  reason  for  oppo- 
sing so  palpable  a  fact,  than  simply  that  Papists  support  it.  A  Protestant, 
zealous  against  the  assumptions  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  yet  honest  and 
honorable  in  that  opjiosiiion,  should  scorn  and  cast  off  the  base  and 
Tain  support  that  so  many  seek  in  llio  denial  of  the  divinely  appointed 
pre-eminence  of  the  no'.ilc  Peter,— a  pre-eminence,  to  my  eye,  palpa- 
bly marked  in  almost  every  passage  of  the  gospels  and  of  the  Acts  where 
the  apostles  are  mentioned.  The  spirit  which  thus  perverts  the  ob- 
vious meaning  of  parlicuhir  passages  in  the  general  tenor  of  the  whole 
New  Testament,  for  the  sake  of  carrying  a  point  against  the  Roman- 
ists, is  not  the  original  spirit  of  the  great  reformers,  who  fought  the 
first  and  best  battles  against  papal  supremacy.  They  knew  better,  and 
had  better  aids.  It  is  a  more  modern  spirit,  springing  from  an  igno- 
rance of  the  true  grounds  of  the  gnat  Protestant  defense  ;  nor  till  this 
offspring  of  ignorance  is  disjilaced  by  the  spirit  of  truth,  will  the  Pro- 
testant controversy  go  on  as  the  Inst  reformers  so  triumphantly  began 
it.  Andif,  of  necessity,  the  pope's  xiipmnacij  o\cJc  all  Christian  churches 
follows  from  Peter's  tupiriuriti/  over  the  other  apostles,  even  such  an 
inference  is  lo  be  j)relerred  before  the  sacrifice  of  a  connnon-sense 
rule  of  interpretation." — P.  HiO. 

Wc  liad  marked  for  coiisidcralion  a  number  of  other  passages  in 
the  voliunc  before  us,  in  which  tlic  same  strain  of  eulogy  upon  the 
primacy  of  St.  Peter,  by  sjiccial  appoiinmcnt  of  Christ,  is  indulged 
in  by  the  author.  Indeed,  he  suil'ers  no  instance,  in  which  this 
apostle  is  broiiglil  into  notice,  lo  pass  without  improving  it  to  reite- 
rate this  popish  dogma* in  terms  which  signify  tliat  he  deems  the 


J c^i .]  Lives  of  the  Ai)OSlles.  27 

quL-ilion  Bctilod  beyond  the  possibility  of  successful  controversy. 
I5i!t  tlu;  reader  certainly  needs  nothing  more  to  satisfy  him  of  the 
Rrtiiiiul  ilic  v.ritcr  occupies  on  this  question.  We  will,  therefore, 
\\.,\\f  any  farther  extracts  relating  to  it. 

ll  will  not  be  expected  that,  in  a  brief  review  of  so  considerable 
a  wurk,  the  main  object  of  which  is  to  expose  its  errors,  and  place 
i!»  r<  .!.!i-r.-s  on  their  guard  against  incautiously  imbibing  them,  we 
tluiuld  enter  tlic  arena  of  controversy  with  the  author,  and  answer 
his  .-ir[;\nncnts  in  detail.  This,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  case, 
uviild  reciuiic  more  scope  than  our  plan  will  admit.  Still  there 
.■>ro  a  few  things  which  claim  a  somewhat  particular  notice. 

It  is  the  author's  evident  aim  to  make  his  readers  believe  that 
liic  opposition  of  Protestants  to  his  dogmatical  assumptions  respect- 
ir;;  the  primacy  of  St.  Peter,  is  not  the  result  of  a  sober  convic- 
l;..;;— i!r,il  the  evidence  of  the  Scriptures  is  altogether  against  it — 
V>!t  '•  that  papists  support  it ;"  and  that  it  springs  "  from  an  igno- 
:•■.:< .-  I  f  tho  true  grounds  of  the  great  Protestant  defense."  There 
j<,  i::i  i.ail>ifdly,  more  of  vanity  than  ill  will  toward  Protestants  in 
ill  (liii,  or  it  would  be  absolutely  unpardonable  in  a  writer  profess- 
ing- liiinself  to  be  a  Protestant.  Were  he  able  to  answer  one  of  a 
thotisand  of  the  arginnents  advanced  by  those  who  have  opposed 
lliif"  pijiish  fable,  (which  he  lias  so  ardently  espoused,)  to  prove  it 
biilh  unscriptural  and  absurd,  there  would  be  some  show  of  decency 
in  )iis  ascribing  their  opposition  to  the  single  circumstance  that  pa- 
jii'.s  support  it.  Intelligent  Protestants  never  opposed  this,  nor 
iiiiv  tiling  else,  on  that  account  merely.  Papists  support  the  doc- 
Uiiio  i.f  liio  trinity,  and  other  important  truths  which  are  taught  in 
iJ.r  Scriptures,  wliich  Protestants  never  thought  of  denying  on  that 
.vri.imt.  Nor  do  they  reject  the  supremacy  of  St.  Peter,  or  any 
ou:rr  dogma  of  llomanism,  merely  because  the  papists  support  it ; 
I'ut  pnri-ly  because  the  Scriptiures  do  not.  The  great  Protestant 
dcfoiise  is  the  word  of  God.  To  this  the  advocates  of  the  Reforma- 
tion liavc  appealed  from  the  beginning.  And  it  is  a  reflection  upon 
In-jth  ilicir  intelligence  and  their  sincerity  to  insinuate  that  they 
hiYC  aliandoned  or  changed  this  ground  of  defense  for  any  pm-pose 
whatever.  Such  a  reflection  comes  with  a  bad  grace  from  a  Pro- 
testant writer ;  and  it  is  the  more  pernicious,  because  it  implies  a 
concession  which  may  be  wielded  to  great  advantage  against  the 
l*r<j;..stant  cause  by  its  ejer  vigilant  enemies. 


28  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  IJanuarj', 

The  reader  will  perceive  lliat  our  autlior  builds  his  argruiicnl 
in  favor  of  the  "  divinelj'  appointed  pre-cininenec"  of  St.  Peter 
upon  the  declaration  of  oiir  Lord  to  him,  "  Thou  art  Peter ;  and 
upon  this  rock  will  I  build  my  church,"  &c.  lie  maintains  that 
tlie  plain  common-sense  interpretation  is,  that  by  the  words,  "this 
rock,"  Christ  meant  Peter, — the  same  as  if  he  had  said,  "  Thou 
art  Peter ;  and  upon  thee,  Peter,  will  I  build  my  church,"  &c. 
Had  he  said  so,  the  question  would  have  been  settled  in  a  w^ay  to 
admit  of  no  dispute.  And  had  he  so  intended,  we  hesitate  not  to 
behove  that  he  ought  to  have  said  so,  and  would  have  said  so.  BtU 
that  he  did  not  intend  so  to  be  understood,  and  that  Peter  himself 
did  not  so  understand  him,  is  rendered  evident  by  every  view  of  the 
subject  which  an  impartial  mind  is  capable  of  taking.  On  t!ie  text, 
"  Thou  art  Peter,"  &cc.,  we  invite  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the 
thesis  of  the  pious  and  learned  Cirenville  Sharp,  as  contained  in  a 
tract,  the  substance  of  which  Dr.  Adam  Clarke  has  inserted  into 
his  Commentary  at  the  end  of  his  nolcs  on  the  9lh  chapter  of  St. 
Luke's  Gospel.  It  is  a  triumjihaiU  refutation  of  the  assumptions 
of  Romanism,  for  which  our  auilior  manifests  such  a  singidar 
partiality. 

"  The  principles  of  syntax,"  says  the  writer,  "  require  that  the 
words,  '  this  rock,'  should  refer  to  some  substantive  already  ex- 
pressed." This  he  seems  to  think  conclusive  in  support  of  his 
position.  Will  he  inform  us  to  what  substantive  "  already  ex- 
pressed" the  words  of  our  Lord  referred,  when  he  said  to  the  Jews, 
"  Destroy  this  temple,  and  after  three  days  I  will  raise  it  up  again?" 
The  evangelist  says,  "  He  spake  of  the  temple  of  his  body."  But 
where  in  the  connection  had  this  been  already  expressed  ?  No- 
where ;  nor  is  there  an  intimation  in  the  record  which  would  lead 
to  any  other  conclusion  than  that  he  meant  the  Jewish  temple,  in 
which  he  was  at  the  time,  and  from  which  he  had  just  driven  those 
who  sold  oxen,  6cc.  Mr.  \\'esley  supposes  that  lie  pointed  to  his 
own  body  when  he  uttered  the  words  "  this  temple  ;"  and  that  he 
did  the  same  when  he  said,  "On  this  rock  will  I  build  rny  church," 
&c.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that,  in  the  first  case,  the 
disciples  understood  liim  to  mean  "the  temple  of  his  body;  and 
equally  as  certain  that,  in  the  second,  they  understood  him  not  to 
mean  Peter,  cm-  author's  syntactical  difficulty  notwithstanding. 
The  fact  is,  what  the  author  says  the  principles  of  sptax  require, 


J  (vl  1 .)  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  29 

l!i-,'V  lio  not  rt-qiiirc,  as  every  sclioolboy  knows.  The  matter  refer- 
if<i  lo  I'V  ihe  cmphalical  definitive  is  sonictimes  implied  in  the 
ih^  i.'i:rM',  v:  indicated  by  the  action  or  intonation  of  the  speaker, 
yo  :'..-  i<>  I'l;  pcrlectly  understood  by  his  hearers  without  being  pre- 
\iui;-lv  expressed  at  alL  Such  was  the  fact  in  the  declaration  of 
<nir  i.ord  respecting  the  temple,  above  refciTed  to.  Similai-  cases 
»iiii;iil  he  ninltiplied  without  number. 

."^(■c  .Mark  ix,  7,  "And  a  voice  came  out  of  the  cloud,  saying, 
VViis  is  my  beloved  Son;  hear  ye  him."  This  is  all  the  myste- 
ri);i<  \oi(e  ullcred;  and  it  contains  no  substantive  expressed  either 
Ufun:  or  after  the  definitive.  What  is  there,  except  the  sense, 
pihcrcd  from  the  whole  subject  as  stated  by  the  evangelist,  to  as- 
nurc  us  tlint  jMoscs  or  Elias,  (last  named  before  the  occurrence,) 
<r  even  Poicr  liimsclf,  was  not  intended]  See  also  Acts  ii,  16, 
"  lliit  tMs  is  that  which  was  spoken  of  b)^  the  prophet  Joel." 
\\h-\\ '  Tdc  sense  only  can  determine.  From  that  we  conclude 
i'lAi  ii  was  tlic  snbjcct  of  llie  wonderful  manifestations  then  wit- 
iJiJ'ifJ,  which  filled  the  minds  of  all  present,  and  was,  therefore, 
l)i";  m.'iMrr  of  discussion.  But  by  what  antecedent  noun  was  this 
fij.roM-.!  /  Again,  in  the  27th  verse  of  the  same  chapter  it  is 
s.Tiid,  "  When  lliej'-  heard  this,  they  were  pricked  in  their  hearts," 
Sir.  Heard  what? — discourse,  doctrine,  truth,  declaration?  But 
tliirc  w.is  no  such  abstract  noun  as  discourse,  doctrine,  truth,  or 
<!cc!:iralion,  previously  expressed  hi  the  sentence  or  its  connection. 
Tl.'c  word  1,'iis  evidently  refers  here  to  the  subject-matter  of  Peter's 
••'■ni)i>!i,  as  it  was  distinctly  impressed  upon  the  minds  of  those  who 
>i--i;d  ii.  Bill  why  multiply  examples  which  are  lo  be  met  with  in 
iL  j.in*  <.f  i!ie  Scri)>turcs?  This  criticism  of  the  author  on  the 
r(ij)i!.i,iti<-nl  construction  of  the  passage,  though  it  may  have  settled 
i):^  (jiK-Mion  in  Ju's  own  mind,  will  hardly  convince  others  of  the 
M.rnruiess  of  his  thesis.     It  is  puerile  and  absurd. 

N\  e  siiiil  above,  that  the  apostles,  that  is,  the  eleven,  did  not  un- 
i.cr«iand  our  Lord  as  aj)plying  the  words,  "  tliis  rock,"  to  Peter. 
'I'liat  they  did  not  so  understand  him  is  evident  from  the  fact,  that 
l!;ey  never,  by  word  or  deed,  acknowledged  the  supremacy  with 
which,  had  ihcy  so  understood  Christ,  they  must  have  considered 
1  r'.er  invested.  Their  entire  lives  furnish  the  most  indubitable  evi- 
'.»-i^ee  (if  continual  hostility  to  this  act  of  the  Saviour,  and  an  obsti- 
iiilc  rcfiisal  on  ihcir  part  to   submit  to  it,  if  they  understood  Ids 


30  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [January, 

declaration  to  mean  wliat  is  alleged  by  tlie  advocates  of  supremacy, 
namely,  "That  St.  Peter,  by  our  Lord's  appointment,  had  a  pri- 
jnacy,  implying  a  sovereignty  and  jurisdiction  over  the  apostles."* 

Nothing  is  more  evident  from  the  Scriptures  than  that  there  was 
no  office  above  that  of  an  apostle,  and  that  all  the  apostles  con- 
sidered themselves  equal  in  authority  and  jurisdiction.  "  This," 
saith  St.  Chrysostom,  "was  the  gTcatest  authority,  and  the  top  of 
authorities.  There  was  none  before  an  apostle,  none  superior,  none 
equal  to  him."t  Mr.  Barrow  has  shown,  by  a  vast  number  of  refe- 
rences, that  no  particular  administration  was  committed  to  Peter, 
nor  any  privilege  conferred  on  him,  which  was  not  also  granted  to 
the  other  apostles.  Of  this  any  person  must  be  satisfied  who  will 
lake  the  trouble  to  examine  these  references.  And  there  is  no 
evidence  that  they  ever  surrendered  any  of  their  prerogatives  to 
Peter,  or  considered  lum  invested  with  any  which  they  had  not 
in  common. 

In  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  Matthew,  first  and  second  ver.«es, 
it  is  said,  "At  the  same  time  cauic  the  disciples  unto  Jesus,  saying. 
Who  is  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  lieavcn?"  Dr.  Adam  Clarke, 
in  his  note  on  this  passage,  says,  "  Could  these  disciples  have 
viewed  the  kingdom  of  Christ  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  a  tem- 
poral one?  Hence  they  wished  to  know  whom  he  would  make  his 
prime  minister — whom  his  general — whom  his  chief  chancellor — 
whom  supreme  judge,  &c.,  &ic..  Is  it  he  who  first  became  thy  disci- 
ple, or  he  who  is  thy  nearest  relative,  or  he  who  has  most  frequently 
entertained  thee,  or  he  who  is  tlic  oldest,  merely  as  to  years? 
Coidd  this  inquiiy  have  proceeded  from  any  but  the  nine  disciples, 
who  had  not  witnessed  our  Lord's  transfiguration  ?  Peter,  James, 
and  John  were  surely  more  spiritual  in  their  views  !  And  yeX  how 
soon  did  even  these  forgot  that  his  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world  ! 
Sec  Mark  x,  25,  <.*cc.;  John  xviii,  10,  &c.  The  disciples  having 
lately  seen  the  keys  delivered  to  Peter,  and  foiuid  that  he,  with 
James  and  John,  had  been  privileged  widi  being  present  at  the 
transfiguration,  it  is  no  wonder  if  a  measure  of  jealousy  and  suspi- 
cion began  to  work  in  their  minds.  From  this  inquiry  we  may  also 
learn  that  the  disciples  had  no  notion  of  Peter's  supremacy;  nor 
did  they  understand,  as  the  Roman  Catholics  will  have  it,  that  Christ 
had  constituted  him  their  head,  eillicr  by  ihc  conversation  men- 
♦  See  Barrow's  Supremacy,  &c.,  p.  51.        f  Ibid.,  p.  62. 


J 54 1.]  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  31 

lioncJ  cliap.  xvi,  IS,  19,  or  by  the  act  mentioned  in  the  conclusion 
of  the  i.rcTr.iling  cliapter.  Had  they  thought  that  any  such  supe- 
iioniv  had  hccw  designed,  their  present  question  must  have  been 
riinnulv  impcrlincnt.     Let  this  he  observed." 

Nciil.rr  did  Peter  understand  our  Lord  as  conferrmg  on  him  the 
l,ii.di  iiriTogatives  ckiimcd  for  him  by  his  pretended  successors. 
Tliiii  IS  evident  from  the  considcraUon  that  he  never  presumed  to 
txrrtisc  llicm.  In  tlie  most  weighty  matters  he  only  reasoned  and 
(V.mi.-clcd  with  his  colleagues ;  never  dictated  to,  or  commanded  them. 
Ihiici'd,  he  was  so  far  from  directing  them  with  respect  to  their 
i,«!>ors  and  duties,  that  he,  -with  John,  cheerfully  submitted  to  be 
ten!  by  the  other  apostles  to  labor  among  the  Samaritans.  Acts 
viu,  11.  And  in  the  important  council  at  Jerusalem,  convoked  to 
ftiile  un  interesting  practical  question  respecting  circumcision, 
w*v,<h  was  gieatly  agitating  the  church,  Peter  was  not  even  the 
i.tf\  «iw.ikcr,  fus  there  was  much  disputing  before  he  rose;  and 
^hrr.  hf  look  part,  it  was  not  the  part  of  a  judge  or  dictator,  but 
(i  411  liumblc  rcasoner,  who  brought  his  own  experience  and  ob- 
Krrviition  to  bc;u-  with  so  much  force  upon  the  subject  as  to  carry 
Ciwujciion  to  the  minds  of  the  rest;  and  James,  acting  as  president 
of  iIk;  council,  after  showing  very  clearly  that  Peter's  reasoning  ac- 
conii'd  most  perfectly  with  the  words  of  inspiration,  pronounced  a  de- 
ri!>ii.!i  in  the  case  in  these  words,  "Wherefore  7ny  sentence  is,"  ice. 
\N'l.ii  r-iii  read  this  account,  with  others  of  a  similar  kind,  and  believe 
th:it  Prior  considered  himself  charged  with  supreme  authority  over 
••!;'•  (c-i  of  the  apostles;  and  that  the  whole  church,  or  even  the  other 
>;*•'.'.<■.",  so  considered  him?  If  he  did,  he  was  criminally  guilty,  not 
iTi.'y  I'i  ihi'i  instance,  but  throughout  his  whole  life,  of  neglecting 
Ui  Oivharge  tlie  functions  of  his  high  oflice ;  and  if  tJie  rest  did, 
t'lry  were  C(iually  guilty  of  a  breach  of  the  divinely  instituted  order 
ar!<!  covcnnnent  of  the  church,  in  presimiing  to  do  without  his  au- 
'iK  riiy  and  direction,  and  especiall}'-  in  his  presence,  what  was  by 
dnid'-  appointment  conmiitted  to  him  exclusively. 

I  lilt  ot/r  Lord  did  not  intend  to  be  understood  as  conferring  on 
P<l'T  the  authority  and  jurisdiction  over  the  rest  of  the  apostles 
whii  !i  is  contended  for,  is  evident  from  the  fact,  that  it  would  be  in 
'.,•■!> -X  uj. position  to  his  owi  teachings  on  this  subject.  He  took 
r\.  ry  (ccasion  to  impress  upon  the  minds  of  the  apostles,  including 
I  tt' T  Willi  the  rest,  thatMiey  were  bretluren,  and  had  no  individual 


32  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [Januarj-, 

master  or  superior  except  himself.  He  rebuked,  as  criminal,  all 
aspirings  after  that  cxtra-a])oslolic  aulliority  and  honor  which  he  is 
represented  by  the  advocates  of  supremacy  to  have  bestowed  gra- 
tuitously upon  Peter.  When  the  sons  of  Zcbcdcc,  supposing  that 
Christ  would  establish  a  temporal  kingdom,  solicited  through  their 
mother  a  pre-eminence  above  the  rest  of  the  apostles,  the  Saviour 
did  not  inform  them  that  lie  had  already  conferred  that  honor 
on  Peter,  which  in  common  honesty  lie  must  have  done  had 
that  been  the  fact ;  but,  as  evidence  of  the  impossibility  of  his  hav- 
ing done  so,  he  said,  "  Ye  know  not  wiiat  ye  ask :"  and  then  to 
the  twelve  he  thus  explained  ;  "  The  princes  of  the  Gentiles  do 
exercise  dominion  over  them  ;" — the  ambition  for  distinction  and 
pre-eminence  with  which  Satan  has  templed  the  sons  of  Zebedee, 
as  he  dared  to  tempt  me  in  tin;  wilderness,  belongs  to  the  kingdoms 
and  glory  of  this  world,  and  is  tolerated  and  cherished  by  the  princes 
of  this  world; — "  but  it  shall  not  be  so  among  you:" — j'e  are  equal, 
and  occupy,  all  of  you,  the  highest  office  in  my  church  upon  earth. 
"  I  appoint  unto  you  a  kingdom,  as  my  Father  hath  appointed  luito 
me;  that  ye  may  eat  and  drink  at  my  table  in  my  kingdom,  and  sit 
on  thrones,  judging  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel,"  Luke  xxii,  29,  30. 
Ye  shall  not,  therefore,  aspire  to  have  dominion  one  over  another, 
but  by  love  serve  one  anotlior.  Rueh  were  the  teachings  of  oiur 
Lord  on  this  subject:  and  can  any  one  believe  that,  in  direct  viola- 
tion of  this  wholesome  doctrine,  he  could  have  set  one  in  authority 
over  all  the  rest,  as  the  advocates  of  Peter's  pre-eminence  pretend  ? 
He  chd,  indeed,  admit  of  a  distinction.  They  who  loved  him  most, 
who  were  most  devoted  in  he.arl  and  life  to  him  and  his  service,  and 
most  abundant  in  labors  and  suiTeriiigs,  were  by  him  accounted 
greatest.  These  were  the  inic  objects  of  emulation  which  he  tole- 
rated among  them ;  and  eminence  in  these  only  insured  the  reward  of 
his  highest  approbation.  In  this  view  Peter  was  eminent;  and,  among 
Galilean  apostles,  pre-eminent;  ihovigh,  in  some  respects,  Paul,  of 
tlie  class  of  the  Hellenists,  justly  claims  to  have  been  not  "  a  whit 
behind  the  very  chicfest  apostles  ;"  as  he  was  "  in  labors  more 
abimdant,  in  stripes  above  measure,  in  prisons  more  frequent,  in 
deaths  oft."  And  our  Lord  more  than  intimates  to  Peter  that,  in 
expressions  of  ardent  afTcclioar  and  overflowing  gratitude,  he  was 
exceeded  by  the  pious  woman  who  washed  his  feet  with  tears,  and 
wiped  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head.    Emulation  in  these  respects 


]  ^  { 1 .]  Liues  of  the  Apostles.  33 

\*  [H  rfoclly  consistent  with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel,  and  may  be 
n-wart!(.^l  tiy  the  Siiviour  witli  sucli  marks  of  distinction  and  favor 
R?.  ho  iii:iv  i'O  pleaded  to  licstow,  without  any  violation  of  his  moral 
i.r.vr|)i.-i.  In  this  li2;lit  it  will  not  be  denied  that  Peter  received  many 
i.-kr:;s  of  ri'giud  from  Chiist,  showing  him  to  have  been  highly 
f  vuciiicii  I'V  him  for  the  sincerity  of  his  faith  and  the  ardor  of  his 
»r.i!.  Ikit  lliat'he  was  appointed  to  a  pre-eminence  implying  a 
N'vcrci^nlv  of  authority  and  jurisdiction  over  the  other  apostles,  is 
i.i;itnir\-  to  the  wliole  tenor  of  the  New  Testament,  and  in  direct 
«j')K!-iiiion  10  the  plainest  precepts  of  the  Saviour  ;  and,  therefore, 
raiHKit  be  true. 

H.irrnw  sucffcsts  a  thought  on  lliis  subject,  which  shows  at  once 
slir  aliMirdily  of  the  notion  of  St.  Peter's  divinely  appointed  supre- 
rii4i  y.  If  he  were  invested  with  authority  above  the  rest  of  the 
sj'.'ile*,  he  ou!;ht  to  have  outlived  all  of  them.  The  reasons  for 
i;;.t  .vc  ^>»  obviouti,  tliat  we  need  not  consume  time  to  state  them. 
IU.\  <>!;f  lif  lh(^  a])o.sllcs  at  least  survived  him  a  long  time.  Who 
ui<.  ilic  arch  apostle,  or  Peter's  successor,  during  this  period? 

Tin-  iiKist  obno.\ious  feature  of  the  thesis  in  question  is,  that  it 
rii!»'K<  s  JVter  the  fonndation  of  the  church!  So  he  is  distinctly  deno- 
m^'i.i'.cd  again  and  again  in  the  volume  before  us.  This  is  popery 
wiin^lil.  But  oiu-  author  thinks  "  if,  of  necessity,  the  pope's 
frpri  nuicy  over  ,ill  Cliristian  churches  follows  from  Peter's  si//)e- 
r!"i:fy  over  llic  otlicr  apostles,  even  such  an  inference  is  to  be 
f<;-frrT(.'d  before  llie  sacrifice  of  a  common-sense  rule  of  interpre- 
>■''  ■■■.\."  ills  common-sense  rule  wc  have  already  examined  in  the 
:  ..  '.  "i  Scripture  and  reason.  Let  us  look  at  it  once  more,  as  it 
ii-.;:*  M',^,:,  this  point.  It  is  by  his  verbal  criticism  that  he  under- 
l?i.r«  to  iiirike  Peter  the  rock  on  whicii  Christ  said  he  would  build 
i.i«  (■.'lU.'cli,  A:c.  Hence  he  calls  him  "the  mighty  foundation-ROCK 
« !'  ihr  ciiurcli  of  God  !"  &c.* 

•  'n-.ia  plirweology  is  employed  by  the  writer  in  speaking  of  Peter's  contri- 
l>."i  iftcr  dcnyiiiiT  his  Lord.  He  thus  inquires  : — "  Wiere  was  now  the  fiery 
•^ir;l  oi.cc  in  word  so  ready  to  brave  deatli,  with  all  the  low  malice  of  base 
TxTi,  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  ]  Where  was  that  unshaken  steadiness,  that  daunt- 
Irv*  t  :ir-r;Ty,  that  once  won  for  him,  from  the  lips  of  his  Master,  when  first  his 
«■*i^•hl;ll;  eye  fell  on  hiui,  the  name  of  the  rock, — that  name  by  which  again 
J--  I  i.i  l«-cn  consecrated  as  the  mighty  foundation-RocK  of  the  church  of  God? 
'<  !•  i-'-.;s  the  chief  of  the  apostles  1— the  keeper  of  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  V— 
1  ■  I. '7.    Agiin,  speaking  of  Peter's  preaching  to  the  Gentiles  at  the  house  of 


34  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  Ua.imaTy, 

The  undue  length  to  which  wc  have  already  extended  these 
remarks  forbids  our  entering  largely  into  this  branch  of  the  subject, 
in)portant  as  it  evidently  is.  \^^e  may  be  permitted  to  say,  how- 
ever, that  one  single  consideration  would  seem  sufficient  to  deter  a 
Protestant  from  using  such  language  as  the  above.  The  church 
can  have  hit  one  foundation  ;  and  that  foundation  is  Christ.  Such 
is  the  legitimate  conclusion  to  which  an  unbiased  mind  must  be 
brought  from  the  concurrent  testimony  of  the  Old  Testament  Scrip- 
tures. Such  is  the  positive  declaration  of  the  writers  of  the  New. 
"  Other  foundation  can  no  man  lay,"  said  Paul,  "  than  that  is  laid, 
which  is  Jesus  Christ."  Whatever  we  arc  to  understand,  there- 
fore, by  the  declaration  of  our  Lord,  "  Tlioii  art  Peter,"  &c.,  we 
are  sure  he  did  not  mean  to  Teprcsi>ni  him  as  the  foundation  of  his 
church.  TJiis  lie  uniformly  claimed  lo  be  himself;  this  the  disci- 
ples and  apostles  confessed  /»'?«  lo  be  ;  and  it  would  be  the  height 
of  absurdity  to  suppose  that  on  ihc  occasion  referred  to  in  this  dis- 
cussion he  could  mean  to  be  understood  as  constituting  Peter  the 
foundaticm ! 

But  what  did  he  mean  ?  To  judge  correctly  of  this,  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  the  word  "rock"  is  used  figuratively.     It  has 

Cornelius,  he  say?,  "Tlds  was  llic  miglit)-  conimission  with  vWch  Jesus  had 
so  prophetically  honored  this  chief  di.'^riplR  at  Cesakea  Philippi,  and  here,  at 
Cesarea.  Augusta,  was  achieved  the  glorious  fulfihnent  of  this  before  mysterious 
announcement.  Simon  Peter,  now  in  tlje  accomplislinicnt  of  that  divinely  ap- 
pointed task,  became  tlie  bock  on  whiclitlic  church  of  Christ  was,  tlu'ough  tlie 
course  of  ages,  reared  ;  and  in  this  act  the  first  stone  of  its  broad  Gentile 
foundation  was  laid." — P.  197.  And  on  p.irjc  OM,  speaking  of  the  distress  of 
the  disciples,  occasioned  by  the  removal  from  .imonn;  them  of  those  who  had 
been  foremost  in  the  great  work,  meaning  James  and  Peter,  he  says,  "  One 
had  already  poured  out  his  blood  beneath  the  executioner's  sword ;  and  the 
other,  their  great  leader,  the  rock  of  the  church,  was  now  only  waiting  the 
speedy  close  of  the  festal  week  to  crown  his  glorious  course,  and  his  enemies' 
cruel  policy,  by  the  same  bloody  doom."  Thus  the  writer  keeps  up  throughout  his 
dissertation  on  the  life  of  St.  Peter  the  di.stinct  idea  that  he  was  constituted,  by 
divine  appointment,  the  bock,  the  mighty  foundation-rot-A:,  of  the  Christian 
church  !  And,  in  accordance  with  this  idea,  he  seldom  (if  ever)  speaks  of  him 
without  such  ephhcls  and  terms  of  di.'^tinction  as  the  following:  "The  head 
and  representative  of  the  w  hole  band  of  the  apostles," — "  the  great  apostolic 
leader," — "  the  great  chief  of  the  aiiojilc?,"— "  the  man,  whose  remarkable 
e.'caltalion  over  them  [tlie  rest  of  the  apostles]  might  seem  like  a  stigma  on  the 
capacities  of  those  to  whom  he  ^vs  preferred,"  &c.,  &c. 


^    t 


(^bU39 


I  ^  I J  )  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  35 

bcc:i  sliowii  lliat  its  figurative  import  in  tlie  Scriptures  is  strength, 
Mi'.jv.iii,  defense,  &c.,  and  is  llius  used  in  its  application  to  God  as 
tilt-  Jthov:ili  of  Uie  Jews,  and  Christ  as  the  promised  Redeemer 
liuJ  S:.viour  of  men.  The  quality  represented  by  this  figure  is 
«ii:it  -Vlr.  Sharp  calls  the  "divine  dignity,"  and  St.  Peter,  more 
j>r.'H-r!y,  "  liis  [Christ's]  divine  power."  This  is  what  rendered 
i;:r  .\Ic!-.>!ah,  tlic  Son  of  the  living  God,  an  object  of  trust  to  those 
H  !;(j  bi'li'vcd  on  him.  "Without  it  he  could  never  have  been  received 
l-y  ;i!iy  wiio  understood  the  import  of  the  prophecies  respecting  him, 
as  t!ic  promised  "rock,"  the  true  "fou7idation" 

'I'hi'  object  of  our  Lord's  conversation  with  Peter,  and  the  rest, 
v»  tills  occasion,  was  to  obtain  a  declaration  from  them  of  that  faith 
III  him  as  the  ])romised  Jlessiah,  which  he  Icnew  them  to  possess, 
»ii.i  ih.-'.l  he  might  assure  them  of  its  acceptableness  to  God;  there- 
f..':v-  !ic  s:ii.i,  "Whom  say  yc  that  I  am?"  Peter  answered,  stating 
v):;.\  the  (iibcrs  professed,  and  he  hunself  sincerely  feU,  "Thou 
»rt  i;;r  Christ,  t!ie  Son  of  the  living  God."  This  was  the  same  as 
\o  »iv,  Wc  believe  and  know  that  thou  art  the  promised  Redeemer, 
i.':c  »>;ijecl  of  our  faith  and  trust,  the  soiuce  of  spiritual  hfe,  and  the 
^.ivsi.vir  of  all  who  bcheve  in  thee.  As  Peter  could  speak  posi- 
Jjvr'.y  roncerning  his  own  experience  only,  the  Saviom-  addressed 
his  reply  to  him,  "  Blessed  art  thou,"  Sec,  "  for  flesh  and  blood 
Intii  !;.n  revealed  this  imlo  thee,  but  my  Father  who  is  in  heaven." 
'I'hf'ii  words  were  intended  to  assure  him  that  this  was  satisfactory 
tTi!c-ncc  of  his  being  a  true  disciple,  having  been  "born  again, 
r.'.l  <T  corrujjtiblc  seed,  but  of  incorruptible,  by  the  word  of  God," 
'V,  m  i:\hrt  words,  having  accepted  by  faitli  that  vital  truth  which 
If  h&.l  ji;*t  professed,  as  made  known  in  the  word  of  God ;  and  thus 
tiro,  rii  -.(ic  "a  partaker  of  the  divine  nature,"  by  which  he  was  consti- 
t'JT^.^  "a  hvely  stone"  in  the  spiritual  or  Christian  temple  which  the 
t  .'-•  M-<i  Kodeeiiier  had  come  intothe  world  toestabhsh  and  rear.  Still 
(i.'iiier  to  assure  him  that  his  experience  was  genuine  and  accept- 
h\>:c  III  the  sight  of  his  heart-searching  Master,  the  Saviour  called 
n  i!:c  familiar  allusion  to  the  metaphorical  rock,  by  first  reminding 
rct'T  that  lie  had  given  him  a  name  which  signified  a  rock  or 
f.oi'.c ;  and  then  refening  to  the  soul-renovating  truth  which  he  had 
y-^X  coiifosscd,  in  which  he  recognized  Clurist  as  the  somce  of  all 
'J-intu.-il  good,  lie  said,  "On  this  rock  will  I  build  my  church," 
A:i.;  clearly  signifying  ihat^e  accounted  Peter,  and  those  of  "like 


36  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [January, 

precious  faith,"  suitable  materials  to  be  built  up  upon  this  tnie  foun- 
dation, purel)'  on  the  ground  of  their  relation  to  the  spiritual  Rock, 
being  made  partakers  of  his  nature.  This  seems  to  be  the  most 
natural  interpretation  of  our  Lord's  words  on  this  occasion.  The 
view  we  have  here  taken  of  the  subject  is  very  much  strengthened 
by  a  reference  to  St.  Peter's  epistles.  Take  1  Pet.  ii,  3,  4,  5, 
"  If  so  be  ye  have  tasted  that  the  Jjord  is  gracious  ;  to  whom  com- 
ing as  unto  a  living  stone,  disallowed  indeed  of  men,  but  chosen  of 
God,  and  precious ;  ye  also,  as  lively  stones,  are  built  up  a  spi- 
ritual house,  a  holy  priesthood,  to  offer  up  spiritual  sacrifices,  ac- 
ceptable to  God  by  Jesus  Christ."  He  then  quotes  Isaiah,  to  show 
that  Christ  was  promised  as  the  chief  corner  stone,  or  true  founda- 
tion, of  the  church,  the  gospel  Zion.  Here,  adopting  the  term 
stone,  by  way  of  accommodation,  in  the  place  of  "rock,"  as  used 
by  the  Saviour,  he  expresses  the  ver}-  thing  he  seems  to  have  un- 
derstood, by  oiur  Lord's  conversation  with  him,  as  recorded  in 
Matthew.  Christ  is  the  living  stone — having  life  in  himself;  and 
as  such  he  is  the  only  fuundalion  of  the  spiritual  temple.  Men, 
quickened  and  regenerated  by  Ids  Spirit,  arc  the  lively  stones,  who 
are  constituted  and  continued  such  by  coming  to  him,  or  exercising 
faith  continually  in  him;  and  these  are  built  iip  a  spiritual  house  on 
this  true  foundation.  Such  are  clearly  the  views  the  apostle  ex- 
presses in  this  and  several  other  passages  in  his  epistles  ;  and  they 
accord  most  perfectly  with  the  whole  tenor  of  the  Scriptures  ;  but 
they  are  absolutely  ineconcilablc  with  the  oft-repeated  language  of 
our  author,  that  Peter  was  constituted  by  our  Lord  x\\q.  foundation 
of  the  Christian  church. 

On  the  whole,  the  views  we  have  been  accustomed  to  entertain 
of  the  exalted  piety  of  the  apostles  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  theii' 
entire  dcadness  to  the  world,  and  devotion  to  the  things  of  God, 
will  not  be  much  strengthened  by  the  work  before  us.  On  the 
contrary',  it  represents  these  holy  men,  throughout  their  lives,  and 
under  the  most  solemn  circumstances,  as  swayed  by  those  passions, 
and  subject  to  those  impidses  of  feeling,  which  characterize  the 
men  of  this  world  in  their  earth-born  pursuits.  Peter  was,  indeed, 
in  the  estimation  of  our  author,  an  illustrious  chief,  renowned  for 
that  cool  discretion  and  perfect  self-command,  by  which  he  was 
enabled  to  keep  the  ambitious  spirits  of  his  jealous  inferiors  in 
check,  and  maintaining  that  dignity  and  propriety  of  conduct  which 


J ,  J 1  J  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  37 

c\:i:i-al  llic  wisdom  of  his  Master  in  selecting  him  to  be  tlic  foun- 
.ijii.)!i  «.f  liis  cliiirch,  and  commilting  to  him  tlie  keys  of  the  king- 
.!..!n.  IKil  llicsc  arc  not  imilablc  virtues.  As  an  example  for 
Chr-.'tans  lo  follow — a  model  of  personal  excellence  in  a  life  of 
■,.,-lv_l,lllc  is  said  of  him  which  is  worth  perusing.  In  the  plain 
rci-Jni,  as  \vc  find  it  in  the  New  Testament,  a  much  more  favor- 
r.''!f  :iud  truly  religious  portrait  is  dra-\\Ti  of  him.  This  is  altogether 
i.'i  -  nioro  ."infc  record  to  consult,  if  we  would  obtain  correct  knowledge 
of  i!;o  c-li.-iraclcr  of  this  apostle. 

.\*  U)  the  others,  our  author  does  them  marked  injustice,  to  the 
<i!s!K>iior  of  the  apostolic  character,  and  the  disparagement  of  the 
Christi.m  name.  James  he  represents  as  a  jealous  bigot,  foment- 
i:-.^  the  spirit  of  faction,  and  indulging  in  groundless  suspicions  and 
»;;i!n;i:ily  dissimulation  respecting  his  superior.  After  Peter  had 
»!«Krti  isi  tJic  council  at  Jerusalem,  and  Paul  and  Barnabas  had 
•' .-rtH-uiilid  liic  extent  and  success  of  their  labors,"  "James,"  says 
i;-..'  wfj'.rr,  "l!ic  leader  of  the  Jlosaic  faction,  arose  and  expressed 
l.t  invn  jK-rfect  acquiescence  in  the  decision  of  Simon  Peter,  and 
i.j>'[M-^<cd  an  arrangement  for  a  dispensation  in  favor  of  the  Gentile 
r-'iivcl.*.  perfectly  satisfactory  to  all."  And  then,  after  noticing 
li..-.;  I'l-ter  went  from  Jerusalem  to  Antioch,  he  adds  :  "  But  in  a 
fVoM  liiuc  a  company  of  persons  came  down  from  Jerusalem,  sent 
{.irticularly  by  James,  no  doubt  with  a  reference  to  some  special 
'X'-H-rrations  on  tlic  behavior  of  the  chief  apostle,  to  see  how  it 
*.-fonlwl  with  the  Jerusalem  standard  of  demeanor  toward  those 
»!>i>.'r..  by  the  Mosaic  law,  he  must  consider  improper  persons  for 
•.J«f  (arniliariritorcouscofaJew."  Thus miich  respecting  James.  But 
IV'.fj  !um«clf.in  ilic  same  connection,  is  broughtundera  somewhatsi- 
!?.;'•»«  rcjiilfiiinalidn;  tliough,  from  the  peculiar  partiality  of  the  author 
(i  luiH  alwve  ail  the  rest,  lie  is  exonerated  from  all  blame.  He 
j-rvcirds  :  "  Peter,  probably,  knowing  that  they  [the  persons  above 
named]  were  disposed  to  notice  his  conduct  critically  on  these  mat- 
i<-r»  of  ceremonial  punctilio,  prudently  determined  to  quiet  these 
>-f[i<ors  by  avoiding  all  occasion  for  any  collision  with  their  preju- 
•-"■<-3.  Before  tlieir  arrival  he  had  mingled  freely  with  the  Grecian 
^"i  Syri.in  members  of  the  Christian  coimnunity,  eating  with  them, 
»!fcl  <  oiifijrming  to  their  customs  as  far  as  was  convenient  for  unre- 
M.Tiinr*!  social  intercourse.  But  he  now  withdrew  himself  from 
iJ.-if  ii,x-i'!iy,  and  kept  himself  mnph  more  retired  than  when  free 

Vol.  1.— 3 


38  Lives  of  the  Apostles.  [Januar}-, 

from  critical  observation."  Here  St.  Paul  is  brought  in  also  for  a 
share  in  tlicsc  critical  observations  and  censorious  animadversions. 
"The  sharp-ej'ed  Paul,"  continues  our  author,  "on  noticing  the 
sudden  change  in  Peter's  habits,  immediately  attacked  hhn  witli 
liis  characteristic  boldness,  charging  him  with  unworthy  dissimula- 
tion in  thus  accommodating  his  behavior  to  tlic  whims  of  those 
sticklers  for  judicial  strictness  of  manners.  The  common  suppo- 
sition has  been  that  Peter  was  here  v.-holly  in  the  wrong,  and  Paul 
whoUy  in  the  right ;  a  conclusion  liy  no  means  ju-stificd  bj^  what  is 
kno^\Tl  of  the  facts,  and  of  the  cliaractcrs  of  the  persons  concerned. 
Peter  was  a  much  older  man  than  Paul,  and  much  more  disposed, 
by  his  cooler  blood,  to  prudent  and  careful  measures.  *  *  *  There 
is  no  .Scriptural  authority  to  favor  tlic  ojiinion  that  Peter  ever  ac- 
knowledged he  was  wrong ;  for  all  tliat  Paul  says  is,  '  I  rebuked 
him ;'  but  he  does  not  say  wliat  cfiVci  it  liad  on  one  who  v.as  an 
older  and  a  wiser  man  than  his  reprover,  and  quite  as  hkely  to  be 
guided  by  the  Spirit  of  iTulh  ;  nor  is  it  wise  or  just  for  presuming 
moderns  to  condemn  Peter  in  tliis  matter  without  a  hearing.  The 
decision  which  seems  safest  to  the  rational  defender  of  Peter  is, 
that  he  had  good  reasons  for  his  own  conduct,  which  he  doubtless 
was  not  slow  to  give  his  youthful  reprover  ;  and  his  answer  mislit, 
if  recorded,  have  thrown  mucli  light  on  this  controversy."  But  we 
will  not  dwell.  The  above  is  suflicient  to  show  the  feehnss  and 
motives  by  which  the  author  represents  the  apostles  to  have  been 
actuated  in  their  intercourse  with  cacli  other.  In  the  same  tone 
of  ascribing  to  the  influence  of  the  humaji  passions  that  conduct 
which  we  have  been  accustomed  to  ascribe  to  a  far  more  lioly 
origin,  he  awards  to  Stephen  the  fate  of  a  victim  to  his  owni  indis- 
cretion, rather  than  tlie  crown  of  a  martyr  in  the  cause  of  Clirist. 
Speaking  of  iiis  murder,  he  says,  it  "  was  no  doubt  preconcerted 
among  the  chief  men,  who  caused  the  formal  preamble  of  a  trial, 
with  the  design  of  provoking  t!ic  mob,  in  some  way,  to  this  act ;  in 
which  scheme  they  were  too  mucii  favored  by  the  fiery  spirit  of  the 
martjTT  himself,  who  liad  not  patience  enough  with  their  bigotry  to 
conceal  liis  abhorrence  of  it."  Kcspeciing  the  impressions  such 
representations  of  the  s]nrit  and  conduct  of  tlie  apostles  and  primi- 
tive saints  are  calculated  to  produce,  we  leave  the  reader  to  judge. 
We  are  not  disposed  to  bestow  a  .single  comment  upon  them.  Sure 
3* 


1  vii .]  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.  39 

V.  c  .ire  ihat  llicy  call  never  tend  to  advance  tlie  cause  of  deep  aiid 
i:a:-Iy  piety. 

IJiis  \vc  said  that  tlic  work,  with  all  its  faults,  is  not  without 
jiicnl.  The  author  lias  brought  into  his  critical  notes  a  great 
:iiiiL'!-.iit  of  historical  information  and  philological  disquisition,  which 
f  \-i'..^i  he  found  in  any  other  single  production.  These  impart  a 
V  ^:<l••  to  il.  Bui  its  hannlessncss  will  depend  much  upon  its  being 
:.- 1 !  with  discrimination  of  its  contents,  and  caution  about  what  to 

„i::i  ;is  mull,  and  what  to  set  down  to  the  score  of  fiction.       L. 


\i.).  111. — Cliiisliiinitij  the  JMcans  of  Civilization — shown  in  the 
'<  iJ'iicc  ^ivnt  before  a  Committee  of  the  House  of  Co/nmons, 
I  'i  Al-'iriainrs,  bv  D.  Coates,  Esq.,  Rev.  John  Beeciiam,  and 
H'\.  Wii.i.iKSf  i'] I.I.I s,  Secretaries  of  the  Church  Missionary 
S,,  tr(u.  il.r  \Visli:i/fi)i  Missio>ia)-y  Society,  and  London  Mission- 
u,.f  S^tuty,  ()-i-.    "London:  T.  Maso.x,  1837:  octavo— pp.  360. 

Till:  .-ipjvarancc  of  this  volume,  the  paramoimt  importance  of  its 
!  .<  :iir.  the  nature  of  the  evidence  il  contains,  the  authentic  facts 
V.  \'.\  which  it  abounds,  and  the  benevolent  motives  of  the  publica- 
;  (:.  all  combine  to  add  lustre  to  the  British  cro\«i,  and  stamp  the 
;  :•  .nt  era  v.iili  new  claims  to  be  regarded  as  the  golden  age  of 
:rnpri)vcinent.  Here  we  have  the  proof,  that  the  government  of  the 
ri.  .'fiiii-st  nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth  have  been  diligently  inves- 
■■  :  .\'.:\z  ihc  character,  condition,  and  prospects  of  the  native  abo- 
■ «  in  di.siant  and  foreign  lands,  not  for  purposes  of  com- 
•  «>r  conqiir^t,  but  with  the  benevolent  and  avowed  design  of 
;  ■■  -v'-im:.  improving:,  and  elevating  them,  by  introducing  the  arts 
■'.'  c:»i.'i)mh1  liie,  and  the  yet  higher  blessings  of  our  holy  rehgion. 
!••*  d.c  volume  before  us  the  novel  and  interesting  developments  of 
!'•;«  invcsliqatioii  are  presented,  so  far  as  derived  from  the  exa- 
."..n;iiioM  of  those  witnesses  who  are  directly  associated  with  foreign 
ii.i'Msinary  efforts  among  the  tribes  of  heathenism.  It  will  be  found 
'•'■>  wiibotiy  a  .'■cries  of  facts  derived  from  the  proceedings  of  modern 
rn.to.vt.int  missions,  calculated  to  evince  their  beneficent  influence 
"I  pr>vnoling  the  temporal  well  being  of  man,  as  well  as  in  impart- 
-  r  In  him  the  inestimably  gieater  blessing  of  eternal  life,  through 
•  ^■'•■\  in  the  merits  of  a  crucified  Redeemer. 


40  Christianiiij  the  Means  of  Civilization.        [Januarj', 

The  select  commiltee  was  appointed  hy  the  House  of  Commons 
in  1S35,  and  consisted  of  fifteen  nicinbers;  T.  F.  Buxton,  the  well 
known  pliilanlhropist,  being  placed  at  its  head  as  chairman.  The 
object  of  their  appointment  is  thus  slated  in  the  resolution  of  the 
house : — 

"To  consider  what  measures  oiijlit  to  l)e  adopted  willi  regard  to  the 
native  inhabitants  of  countries  where  Ijrilish  sctdements  are  made,  and 
to  the  neighboring  tribes,  in  order  to  secure  to  them  the  due  observance 
of  justice  and  the  jiroteclion  of  their  rights  ;  to  promote  the  spread  of 
civilization  among  them,  and  to  lead  them  to  the  peaceful  and  volun- 
tary reception  of  the  Christian  religion." 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  cruel  wrongs  and  intolerable 
suflerings  of  the  poor  aborigines,  though  often  inflicted  by  British 
subjects,  in  their  intercourse  with  these  foreign  savages  and  barba- 
rians, had  never  reached  the  ear  of  the  British  parliament  but  for 
the  missionaries  who  have  visited  them  in  their  distant  homes,  and 
since  become  their  representatives  to  plead  their  cause  before  their 
owi\  govenDiient  at  home.  Hence  we  are  not  surprised  to  learn 
tliat  among  the  witnesses  official!}'  simnnoncd  before  this  commit- 
tee by  their  chairman,  were  the  esteemed  secretaries  of  those  noble 
institutions  which  do  honor  to  tlie  British  emphe,  and  to  the  Chris- 
tian name,  of  which  that  nation  has  never  ceased  to  be  proud — we 
mean  the  Church,  the  Weslcyan,  and  the  London  Missionar)'  So- 
cieties. By  this  course  the  committee  have  .shown  the  estimate 
they  place  upon  the  testimony  of  Christian  missionaries  on  the 
subjects  refeiTcd  to  them,  rightly  judging  tliat  their  opportunities 
bring  them  more  directly  into  contact  with  the  native  mind  of  the 
aborigines  than  any  other  persons  ;  and,  by  consequence,  that  the}"- 
have  greater  facilities  for  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  their  characters, 
their  wishes,  and  their  wants. 

The  three  gentlemen,  whose  testimony  chiefly  makes  up  the 
vohmie  before  us,  are  those  n;micd  on  the  title  page,  viz., — 

Dandeson  Coatcs,  Esq.,  secretary  of  the  Church  Missionary' 
Society ;  Rev.  John  Bccchani,  secretary  of  the  Wesleyan  Mis- 
sionary Society;  and  Rev.  William  Ellis,  secretary  of  the  London 
Missionary  Society. 

The  principal  tnjiics  upon  which  they  were  examined  were  the 
following : — 

1st.  Acts  of  cruelly  and  ojjprcssion  committed  by  Emopeans 


1  '-i  1 .1  Christianitij  the  Means  of  Civilization.  41 

i.:i  ilic  iMtivLS,  iuid  ciicroaclnncnt  on  llieir  teiTitories,  or  diminulion 

•  f  \ii.-ir  jH.j.iikilion. 

•i.i.  M Insures  recommended  for  tlie  protection  of  the  natives, 
ft:i.i  liicir  moral  and  social  improveineut. 

:M.  Wlftiicr  tlic  experience  of  the  several  societies  led  to  the 
Uli.-f  (l;:ii  it  would  be  advisable  to  begin  with  civilization  in  order 
5i..  iiitnxliu-e  Christianity,  or  with  Christianity,  in  order  to  lead 
u<  rivili/alioii. 

On  i!)f  first  of  these  topics  each  of  the  gentlemen  testified  to 
!'..•>  and  circinnstances  which  had  transpired  in  the  foreign  mis- 
•■."r.H  ciinncricd  with  their  several  societies,  and  placed  in  the  hands 
vi  tin-  couiniitlco  documentary  evidence  of  great  importance  to  the 
;-"urnnii.-i)t,  in  tlie  prosecution  of  their  work  of  benevolence  con- 
Jrrtip'nird  ill  this  investigation. 

'I'h.r  v'.Toiid  and  third  questions,  embracing  as  they  do  llic  gist 
rf  liio  whole  inquiry,  and  involving  the  great  practical  question  as 
*.:ihc  i:!'-:iii?  of  civilization,  and  the  order  in  which  the  agencies 
tur  to  !»•  employed  in  rescuing  savage  man  from  the  barbarism, 

•  iil'iT'.iriions,  and  miseries  of  heathenism,  will  be  found  amply  dis- 
i-ti^M-ii,  anil,  as  wc  think,  definitely  settled  in  this  examination. 
'I'hr  (riidf.iicy  and  efficacy  of  Cliristianity  to  civihze  mankind,  and 
!(»  jTt'nioio  their  social  well  being,  is  a  topic  upon  which  each  of 
t!ir  tcrrctarics  was  patiently  and  critically  examined  by  the  com- 
ii.i'.Iit;  and  the  identity  of  the  facts  presented  by  each,  as  developed 
Ki  ilic  hi.-iiory  of  their  missions,  as  well  as  the  concurrence  of  views 
t  'i;rr!.i:!ifd  hy  the  witnesses,  was  truly  remarkable,  especially  when 
vr  str  t^snred  that  there  was  no  sort  of  concert  between  them  an- 
t<-rci?<-iii  •:,  liic  delivery  of  iheir  evidence.  This  striking  coinci- 
O'-T.  r,  (lien-fore,  must  be  regarded  as  substantiating  the  all-important 


iift,  ih.-it  tiiere  is  no  means  so  effectual,  under  the  divine  blessing, 
i '  Ivrjcfit  man  for  the  life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  for  that  ichtch  is 
'v  r. >.•'„•.  ;,s  "  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God." 

Tiie  nuiuirics  of  the  committee  extend  to  Southern  Africa,  Ncw- 
r.u!:.i!.iiul,  \ew  South  Wales,  Van  Dicmnn's  Land,  New  Zealand, 
U-.r  South  Sea  Islands,  and  Upper  and  Lower  Canada.  The  exa- 
i;:ii!..lioM  of  the  witnesses  was  conducted  with  due  formality,  every 
S^oUuii  and  answer  being  written  down  at  length,  and  all  the  do- 
rv.:nniu  included  in  the  printed  Report.     Some  idea  of  the  extent 

'^"'^  uiqiury,  and  liic  patient  attention  it  received,  may  be  formed 


42  Chrisiianily  the  Means  of  Civilization.        [Januarj', 

from  tlie  fact,  that  although  this  volume  contains  but  a  portion  of 
the  selected  testimony,  and  only  of  a  few  of  the  great  nmnber  of  wit- 
nesses, yet  as  the  questions  arc  all  iiuinbcved,  we  find  that  one  of 
the  examinations  here  inscrled  bears  tlic  number  of  5,710,  and 
includes  in  the  number  of  its  questions  from  5,563,  making  147 
questions  proposed  to  a  single  individual,  and  he  the  Rev.  John 
Williams,  missionary  to  th.o  .So\il!i  Sea  Islands.  The  diligence, 
care,  and  discrimination  wliich  characlerize  the  examination  through- 
out, evince  the  laborious,  conscientious,  and  faithfid  manner  in -which 
the  committee  have  performed  then-  eintios,  and  add  gi-eally  to  the 
confidence  which  they  have  merited  for  the  accuracy  of  the  result. 

The  missionar}'  secretaries  were  examined  separately,  but  in  tlic 
presence  of  each  other,  so  that  the  questions  of  the  committee 
might  be  put  to  each,  and  their  several  answers  recorded.  The 
fiist  point  upon  which  elaborate  testimony  is  recorded  is  that  of  acts 
of  cruelty  and  oppression  committed  by  Europeans  on  the  native 
inhabitants  of  the  British  settlements,  including  the  seizure  of  their 
lands;  the  destruction  and  plunder  of  their  property;  the  most  atro- 
cious cruelties  and  murders,  and  this  loo  without  the  shadow  of 
provocation,  by  which  peaceful,  mioflcnding  people  are  aroused  to 
bloody  wars  to  protect  themselves,  and  revenge  the  itnprovokcd 
\vrongs  the)'  sufi'ev;  the  fonientaiiun  of  wars  by  Etu"opeans  between 
neighboring  tribes  hitherto  friendly;  ihc  introduction  of  ardent  spi- 
rits, often  against  the  rcmonsirance  and  even  resistance  of  the 
chiefs,  who  have  been  apprised  of  their  evils  by  the  instructions 
received  from  their  missionaries;  as  well  as  the  inlroduclion  of  the 
vices  and  the  diseases  of  Europe  ;  by  all  which  causes  the  popu- 
lation of  the  aborigines  is  evcrpvhere  diminishing,  and  many  large 
tribes  of  men  have  been  reduced  to  a  mere  handful,  molting  awaj' 
like  snow  before  the  siui,  from  the  encroachments  of  the  while 
population ;  all  which  evidence  goes  to  prove  that  the  seizure  of 
the  territon'  belonging  to  the  nalivcs  by  Em-opeau  governments 
has  a  tendency  to  introduce  and  in\duply  physical  and  moral  evil, 
and  the  effect  has  been  most  demoralizing  and  disastrous,  with  lire 
exception  of  the  cases  in  which  missions  arc  established,  and  con- 
stituting even  in  these  the  greatest  barrier  to  the  success  of  mis- 
sionary exertions. 

The  following  sununar)-  of  the  points  proved  by  this  examination 
is  given  here  in  lieu  of  a  transcript  of  the  questions  and  answers. 


1  b  U  .1  CJa-istianiiy  the  Means  of  Civilizatio7i.  43 

\Uik1i,  tliou::li  it  would  be  liighly  interesting,  must  be  withheld  for 
x^  .i.'it  <if  room.  It  was  the  united  opinion  of  each  of  the  witnesses 
i!:ii  iiiiroptMiis  coming  into  contact  with  native  inhabitants  of  Bri- 
tish i-i'itlcnicnts,  lends,  in  all  cases,  (excepting  those  in  which  the 
I  >ij'i!ishnicnl  of  missions  prevents  or  limits  such  results,)  to  deterio- 
t.iu-  llii-  morals  of  the  natives ;  to  introduce  European  vices ;  to 
j:i<ri  :iil  among  them  new  and  dangerous  diseases  ;  to  accustom 
jli<;;i  lo  ihc  use  of  ardent  spirits;  to  the  use  of  European  arms  and 
in>'.ni/nent.s  of  destruction  ;  to  the  seduction  of  native  females  ;  to 
liie  decrease  of  the  native  popidation  ;  and  to  prevent  the  spread 
I'f  civilization,  education,  commerce,  and  Christianity;  and  that 
liic  liTfcl  of  European  intercourse  has  been,  upojr  the  whole,  a  ca- 
l.iniity  on  the  licathen  and  savage  nations.  And,  moreover,  all 
l!ii  sc  gentlemen  declare  that,  in  everj--  instance  within  their  know- 
!i.-<!t;<~  of  contentions  between  Europeans  and  natives,  it  has  been 
f:«!;,J  on  investigation  that  the  aggression  was  on  the  part  of  the 
r>n!ifr.  \Miu1  a  melancholy  exhibition  of  the  depravity  of  civi- 
lized iiicn,  Ijoloiiging  to  nations  included  in  Christendom  !  What 
n  di-]ilorable  picture  of  attempts  to  civilize  man  anywhere  without 
l!ic  gospel !  And  how  humihating  to  learn,  in  the.  light  of  these 
f.\ct.'*,  llial  negroes  and  Indians,  Hottentots  and  New  Zealar.ders, 
.■ue  li:!pj)icr  and  better  in  the  dai'kness  of  heathenism,  amid  the 
ii!o<Kiy  rites  and  superstitions  of  pagan  idolatry,  though  ignorant  of 
itUiTS,  arts,  or  any  attribute  of  civilization,  than  they  are  by  the 
ialroduclion  of  European  voyagers  and  settlers,  though  nominally 
Ciiri.-'.i-ms,  wlsilc  such  arc  destitute  of  the  experimental  luiowlcdge 
t  f  ir.ic  ri'lsL'io:) !  The  native  aborigines,  though  savages,  barba- 
i.-;-..  and  even  cannibals,  arc  made  worse,  and  their  condition  bc- 
'■:..;••  more  miserable,  wherever  Europeans  or  Americans  have 
!.:  <"-  -•>  to  tliem,  unless  the  Cliristian  missionar}"-,  with  the  Bible 
5.:.J  iho  gospel,  prepare  the  way  by  inculcating  Christianity.  Even 
l.'ie  \ve!!-nie:uu  ciTorls  of  irreligious  men  to  civilize  barbarians  are 
<.t-!nora!izing  a!ul  disastrous — evil,  only  evil,  and  that  continually; 
••v!.i!'-,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  same,  and  other  collateral  testi- 
uhcy,  it  is  shown  that,  where  the  European  residents  in  any  given 
roi::iiry  arc  wliolly  missionar)',  the  results  of  their  intercourse  with 
ihc  ncitivcs  are  purely  beneficial,  and  tend  to  the  spread  of  civiliza- 
^■■'Ti,  fducalion,  and  commerce.  A  practical  inference  which  this 
'■•«-' :!:Lhigc  of  facts  suggests  is  this,  tint  any  colony,  designed  to 


44  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.        [January, 

be  a  blessing  to  the  native  aborigines  of  the  country  where  it  is 
settled,  must  be  a  Christian  colony;  and  the  necessary  connection 
of  missionaries  and  missions  with  such  a  colony,  for  tiie  benefit 
both  of  the  colonists  and  natives,  must  be  apparent  in  the  hght 
of  these  facts. 

The  next  iuquiiy  contemplates  the  measures  called  for  to  pro- 
mote the  sccm-ity  and  protection  of  tlic  natives  in  British  settle- 
ments, and  their  advancement  in  social  and  moral  improvement.  We 
need  not  here  detail  the  suggestions  made  in  relation  to  the  former 
part  of  this  question,  which  regards  the  protection  of  the  rights  of  tlie 
natives  from  aggression  and  outrage,  but  content  ourselves  with  the 
general  remark,  that  the  obligation  of  her  majesty's  govenmrent  to 
provide  governors,  judges,  or  oilier  officers,  in  eveiy  settlement, 
who  shall  maintain  and  defend  the  natives  from  any  trespass  upon 
their  rights  by  European  settlers,  and  punish  such  offences,  was 
recognized  by  each  of  the  witnesses.  I'^or  this  purpose  it  is  recom- 
mended that  all  such  Europeans  and  their  families  be  brought 
both  under  religious  instruction  and  under  lire  supci-vision  of  an 
efficient  police. 

It  was  farther  suggested  that,  for  the  protection  of  both  the  na- 
tives and  the  settlers,  all  intercourse  with  the  former  should  be 
based  on  the  principles  of  humanity,  justice,  and  truth — principles 
wliich  have  been  too  frequently  disregarded  by  Europeans  in  their 
connections  with  uncivilized  nations.  IIow  often  has  humanity 
been  disregarded  by  murderous  exhibitions  of  European  power; 
even  by  recourse  to  the  deadly  cficcts  of  fu-enrms  upon  unof- 
fendhig  natives,  to  inspire  them  with  dread,  and  thus  coerce  their 
submission  to  subsequent  demands !  How  often  has  common 
•justice  been  outraged  in  such  cases  by  the  seizure  of  lands  belong- 
ing to  the  natives  by  dint  of  power,  as  though  "might  gave  riglit" 
in  such  a  case !  It  is  thus  that  aggression  and  violence  have 
prompted  retaliation,  and  the  consequences  have  often  been  di-ead- 
ful ;  the  poor,  v\Tonged,  and  plundered  natives  being  ultimately  the 
sufferers.  So  also  all  forcible  means  to  drive  the  natives  off  their 
soil,  and  their  hunting  gi'ounds,  liy  threats  of  violence,  for  the  set- 
tlement of  colonists,  should  be  abandoned ;  as  also  the  little  less 
criminal  frauds  of  pretended  purchases  of  their  lands  for  a  merely 
nominal  consideration,  as  by  a  string  of  beads  or  buttons.  Instead 
of  permitting  the  repetition  of  such  WTongs,  all  such  land  sliculd 


1  St  1 .]  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.  45 

W  obuiinc.l  by  negotiations  or  treaties,  and  equitable  purcliase. 
Anil,  above  all  else,  llie  introduction  of  ardent  spirits  among  the 
ttSv^rr^siios  slionld  be  prohibited  by  rigid  enactments. 

I:i  !<-j)ly  10  that  portion  of  the  inquirj- which  relates  to  the  social, 
i;i>  r,il,  mi'i  religious  improvement  of  an  aboriginal  people,  these 
«;!!!r.>i-s  concurred  in  declaring  that  Christianity  is  the  instnnncnt 
I..  \\-  employed,  and  their  testimony  is  directed  to  show  how  a 
Cti.'-.-ti:in  povcnmient  may  facilitate  the  use  of  that  instrmiient,  in 
M:;-civiency  to  the  moral  and  religious  improvement  of  an  imci- 
»ii./<-d  people.  The  suggestions  made  under  this  head  are  the 
inij«i>ition  of  legal  restraints  on  the  demoralizing  conduct  of  British 
mbjccts  ;  the  acquisition  of  British  influence  over  the  minds  of  the 
r.:i!jvc  chiefs,  by  extending  to  them  marks  of  recognition  and  favor 
en  iJu;  ]i.-u-t  of  the  government ;  the  prohibition  of  colonization 
%»!!<!!•  (.'hristiau  missions  are  sticcessfully  advancing  the  moral 
!i:>l  io!ipo\i"«  improvement  of  the  natives,  as  in  New  Zealand, 
«!.i:n'  iiiR  W'eslcyan  and  Church  Missionaiy  Societies  are  ope- 
t::::iic,  and  only  ncL'd  the  protection  and  fostering  aid  of  the 
£-"Vi  rnnicnt  to  accomplish  all  that  is  desirable;  pecmiiary  grants 
fr.'rn  llic  government  in  aid  of  the  missionary  work,  which  may  be 
I'-L'nr.lcd  as  only  a  just  remuneration  to  the  aborigines  for  the  lands 
t  f  which  ihcy  have  been  dispossessed  by  Europeans,  and  for  which 
ll;--y  arc  ci\tiilcd  to  compensation,  at  least  in  the  supply  of  agxicul- 
\\is\]  tools,  implements,  and  such  stores  as  might  assist  them  in  the 
i!u'.i!i!inc  sute  of  their  civilization.  While  the  Christian  institutions 
*•<-  ^rmilnIr.  at  their  own  charge,  missionaries  to  teach  them  tlic 
}. ■•;!•.•;>!(•«  <.f  rcli:;ion,  it  is  argued  th;it  it  would  be  a  legitimate 
<■•.■---!  <  f  i!k-  V,r,u<]\  government,  an  act  of  judicious  policy,  as  well 
*>  r--.nrfwis  jilnkmlhropy,  to  send  out  individuals  to  promote  agri- 
<■•.  •.'.jfrt  aiu!  inanufictures  among  uncivilized  tribes  on  the  borders 
if  i^.-ir colonics,  factories,  and  settlements.  In  no  other  way  could 
t:.'-  i'>niTiunent  more  cflcctually  promote  their  political,  social,  and 
I'l-nxi  improvement. 

^•:.-h  i;ur..pcan  intcrcomse  with  aboriginal  countries,  imder  the 
!  -.'..T  -y-tcm  proposed,  would  tend  to  prevent  savage  vices  and 
«'i;ncs,  human  sacrifices,  wars,  and  infanticide;  to  introduce 
I-  ire.  industry,  and  civilization;  to  add  greatly  to  commerce;  to 
;•'  ;  ;.A-f  ihtir  welfare,  and  to  advance  objects  which  must  be  de- 
*  ••'-:  ■■y  ever)- friend  of  mankind;  viz.,  the  happhiess  of  vast  masses 


46  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.       [January, 

of  the  liuman  race,  now  in  a  very  deplorable  and  savage  condition, 
and  llic  diffusion  of  ihe  advantages,  inoral  and  intellectual,  temporal 
and  eternal,  whicli  Christianity  confers. 

Various  other  important  suggestions  are  made  in  relation  to  the 
facilities  which  government  might  afford  by  exempting  the  produce 
of  these  countries  from  duties,  thus  giving  cncour-agemcnt  to  the 
industry  of  the  people,  just  learning  to  cultivate  the  soil,  and  avail 
themselves  of  tlie  product  of  their  labor.  But  our  limits  forbid  us 
to  enlarge  on  these  and  kindred  topics. 

On  the  all-important  question,  next  presented,  it  is  desirable  to 
dwell  at  greater  length.  It  was  projiosed  as  follows  to  each  of 
tlie  witnesses  : — 

"  Docs  yovT  eypcriencc  lead  you  to  believe  tlinl  it  vould  he  advisable  to 
begin  mth  civilization,  in  order  to  produce  C/rristianili/,  or  leilk  Chris- 
tianity, in  order  to  lead  to  eivilizatioii  ?" 

In  answer  to  this  question,  the  replies  of  cnrh  of  the  gentlemen 
contain  so  man)'  points  of  interest,  that  to  do  them  and  the  subject 
justice,  requires  that  a  few  brief  extracts  be  ji'.accd  licfore  the 
reader. 

The  secretaiy  of  the  Church  Missionary  Society,  Mr.  Coates, 
saj's, — 

"If  civiliziition  be  intonJcd  to  nii'an  the  nior;'.l  and  social  improve- 
ment of  a  people,  my  opinion  is  Jisliiully  that  Christianity  is  ihe  instru- 
ment by  which  to  brinr;  it  al,out.  1  fnriu  iliis  opinion  from  several  rea- 
sons, derived  partly  from  the  ii;ilurc  uf  Christianity  itsclt",  and  partly'- 
from  the  liislory  of  Cliristianily.  1  iV'l  liie  question  proposed  to  mo 
by  the  committee  to  be  a  very  serious  one,  and  therefore  trust  the  com- 
mittee will  extend  their  indiiirreiicc  to  me  in  attempting  an  answer  to  it. 

"  I  think  1  should  not  do  justice  to  a  (jucstion  of  this  gravity  without 
first  advertin;^',  and  1  will  do  it  v.-ry  briclly  indeed,  to  the  reasons  for 
the  opinion  derived  from  the  n.iiure  of  Chri;>tianily  itself.  I  find  the 
preceptive  part  of  Chrisli.inily  tends  to  make  men  peaceable,  honest, 
sober,  industrious,  and  orderly,  'i'liesc,  in  my  opinion,  are  the  very 
elements  of  civihzatinn,  in  the  moral  sense  of  it. 

"  I  lind  in  the  Christian  scliemc  the  doctrines  of  man's  fallen  state 
through  sin— redemption  by  Christ— renovaticjn  by  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost — and  the  great  and  awful  sanrtinn  of  an  eternal  judgment. 
Now  it  is  clear  to  my  mind  that  the  impression  of  tlicse  great  princi- 
ples on  the  liearl  of  man  tends  directly  lo  make  him  humble,  self-den)-- 
ing,  philanthropic,  beiielicent  ;  ajiarl  from  the  consideration  of  those 
eil'ects  of  the  dnctrini  s  which  may  be  considered  more  strictly  of  a 
rehgious  or  tlienlo-nal  kind.  These  principles,  I  apprehend,  cannot 
exist  ill  force  m  any  cu:::iiiiinity  without  the  moral  and  social  well-being 
of  that  conmnniity  being  greatly  promoted. 


1*11.)  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.  47 

"I  look  again  into  the  Christian  scheme,  and  observe  the  very  em- 
phnlic  Ji-st-ription  of  the  gospel;  it  is  declared  to  be  'the  power  of 
lluti.'  1  think  that  the  ])hrase  must  be  understood  to  imply,  in  any 
roriioiiril'lo  interpretation  of  the  words,  a  divine  influence  accompanying 
ill.-  pr«.icliing  of  the  gospel.  I  see,  therefore,  in  that  an  arrangement 
ilikI  process  by  which  the  human  mind  is  to  be  operated  upon  in  a 
nior.'  |>i)\vi>rful  manner  than  any  other  agency  that  can  he  imagined. 

"  1  li«)k  farther  into  the  Christian  scheme,  and  find  it  to  be  a  revela- 
tion from  Cod.  Now  if  God  be,  as  the  Bible  teaches  us  that  he  is,  su- 
pfiine  in  benevolence  and  beneficence,  as  well  as  in  power,  wisdom, 
and  knowledge,  then  I  think  the  inference  is  most  clear  and  irrefrag- 
o!)l'-,  tint  to  bring  that  revelation  to  bear  npon  mankind  is  to  promote 
llicir  tLinporal  welfare,  as  well  as  to  provide  for  their  eternal  salvation. 
J  very  slightly  allude  to  these  important  topics,  because  I  am  unwilling 
lo  tri'.^pass  unnecessarily  for  a  single  moment  on  the  time  of  the  com- 
niitli-c  ;  but  considering  the  extreme  weightiness  of  the  question,  I 
think  1  .should  not  have  fairly  brought  it  under  the  notice  of  the  com- 
niUli.i;  without  thus  briefly  referring  to  these  considerations. 

"  J!ul  I  pass  to  the  second  scries  of  reasons  ;  those  which  are  de- 
r.V'- 1  (tv.ni  the  liislnry  of  Christianity.  This  is  a  branch  of  the  subject 
I'!  ■ ;..  h  imnirnse  extent,  that  it  would  be  quite  impracticable  for  me  to 
('-)  Di-i-  ih'.u  to  glance  at  it  in  the  most  rapid  way  jiossible  on  an  oc- 
c.^ioii  \iW  ilie  ]>resent.  If  I  look  at  the  state  of  the  world  when  at  the 
r;-..  of  Chiistianilyitfound  Rome  in  the  zenith  of  her  power  and  glory, 
la  t!;.<  lushest  state  of  civilization — as  civilization  could  exist  in  a  hea- 
thrn  kind— that  mankind  was  ever  advanced  to,  perhaps  with  the  excep- 
t;o;i  of  Greece,  which  was  already  on  the  decline  from  her  glory,  and 
till  rcfore  I  do  not  more  particularly  refer  to  Greece.  In  Rome,  at  that 
ponoj,  among  other  practices,  which  I  will  not  dwell  upon,  that  of  sell- 
n::;  their  prisoners  of  war  into  slavery  prevailed;  and  that  of  exposing 
linir  jirisniiers  of  war  in  their  public  games.  I  find  too,  in  Rome,  at  that 
porio.!,  their  gladiatorial  games;  man  opposed  to  man  in  mortal  conflict. 
Ai!''.  liiis  not  an  accident.i!  occurrence,  but  an  established  order  of  things ; 
ctiii'MifJ  not  in  pri\:ite,  not  only  occasionally,  but  habitually,  at  their 
\hi  >-.ris,  :iiul  to  the  most  polished  and  distinguished  of  the  whole  popu- 
l.i;i...'i.  Wliat  do  I  find  at  the  expiration  of  a  few  ages?  Christianity 
i;;:i:i.s  ihi-  a,scendency,  and  these  things  are  extinct. 

'■  I  dwell  on  no  other  topic  of  ancient  history,  but  come  down  to 
iiifvlcrn  limes.  I  contrast  the  state  of  the  European  nations  with,  I  will 
not  My  iliose  of  Africa,  but  with  the  more  civilized  nations  of  Asia; 
a.'i'l  here  I  trace  a  distinction  so  broad  and  obvious  that  it  need  not  be 
ii!-:-;r.l  on.  1  sec  clearly  that  it  is  Clu'istianity  which  has  conferred 
Ljx'i,  i!ie  I'uropoan  this  distinction. 

"  1  would  only  attempt  farther  to  illustrate  this  bearing  of  the  subject 
from  ihrce  or  four  iacts  of  a  recent  date.  At  a  recent  period  suttees 
p:"  vadi-d  ihrou^luuu  our  possessions  in  India:  they  are  now  prohibited. 
1  :.u  voice  of  Christianity  in  this  country  unquestionably  wrought  the 
',•'•"•"-'"•  The  abominable  pilgrim  tax  is  suppressed  in  India,  b_y  au- 
»:""ri-,y.  and  this  was  (ifl'ectedby  the  expression  of  Christian  opinion 
»"d  Idling  in  lliis  country.     I  look  back  on  the  enormous  evils  of  the 


48  Christianitii  the  Means  of  Civilization.        [Januar}-, 

slave  trade.  The  slave  fraJc  is  suppressed  ;  and  suppressed  unques- 
tionably by  the  force  of  Christianily  in  this  country.  I  come  to  a  still 
more  recent  period  ;  a  very  recent  one  indeed.  I  see  slavery  abolished 
throughout  the  British  colonies,  and  that  at  the  cost  of  £20,000,000  of 
public  money  ;  the  result,  most  unequivocally,  of  the  stale  of  Christian. 
principle  and  feeling  in  the  country.  A  national  act,  I  will  venture  to 
atlirm,  unparalleled  in  the  whole  history  of  human  legislation,  the  glory 
of  which  redounds  exclusively  to  Chri-slianity." 

After  fartlicr  illustralion,  drawn  front  the  effect  of  Clmstianit)-, 
as  exemplified  by  the  present  labors  of  the  missionaries  in  Sierra 
Leone,  New  Holland,  New  Zealand,  &c.,  and  tiie  presentation  of 
numerous  letters,  reports,  and  other  documcnUir}'  evidence,  lie  con- 
cludes his  testimony  on  tliis  question  in  tlic  following  language  : — 

"  Though  I  have  a  very  clear  opinion  as  to  the  e/Ticacy  of  Christian- 
ity as  an  instrument  of  civilization,  I  should  nut  be  disposed  to  represent 
Christianity  as  preceding  civilization,  because  the  moment  Christian 
principle  begins  to  bear  upon  the  mind  of  man,  from  that  moment  his  con- 
dition as  a  civilized  being  advances  ;  and  hence  Chrislianity  and  civili- 
zation advance  ;)nnj)(Z5i'».  It  is  therefore  impossible,  1  conceive,  that 
civilization  should  stand  still,  or  not  go  on  in  its  due  ratio,  so  long  as 
Christian  principle  is  duly  brought  to  bear  upon  iho  population.  They 
stand  precisely  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  efi'cct." 

Tlic  same  question  being  put  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bcccliam,  secre- 
tary of  the  \Yeslcyan  !\Ii.--sioiinry  Society,  roreivcJ  liie  following 
answer,  which  wc  cannot  abridge  in  justice  lo  him  and  the  subject : — 

"My  attention  has  been  loiiir  din  ctod  to  this  subject,  and  the  firm 
conviction  of  my  mind  that  (.'hiisiianily  mu'-t  |ircrede  civilization  is  the 
result  of  the  inquiries  and  observations  wliirh  I  have  made.  So  far 
has  my  experience  been  from  proving  th;,!  ti\ilizalion  is  necessary  to 
prepare  barbarous  nations  for  ihe  reception  of  tlie  gospel,  that  it  has 
led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  the  oidv  elVeclual  way  to  civilize  them  is 
first  to  evangelize  them.  I  regard  (.iiri-^lianity  as  the  parent  of  civili- 
zation, and  am  persuaded  ihal  true  civilizniion  cannot  be  produced 
•without  it.  I  say  true  civilization,  because  I  am  aware  that  a  certain 
kind  of  civilization  may  exi-l  unronnecled  with  Christianity.  I  have 
heard  reference  made  to  aneitnt  (Jrerc-e  and  Rome,  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  that  there  may  be  eivili/aunii  without  Christianity;  but  if  all 
true  civilization  includes  the  huiirinitirs  of  life,  ilien  I  must  conclude 
that  those  celebrated  nations  had  not  attaincil  lo  it.  When  I  look,  for 
instance,  at  the  theatres  of  Ivomi',  and  witurss  the  gladiatorial  shov.-s 
and  fights  of  men  with  wild  b.-asts,  which  were  there  exliil)ited,  aiul 
recollect  that  such  sprctacles  of  cruelty  constituted  the  ouuixcnaidx  of 
the  Roman  public;  and  uhm  I,  moreover,  reniomlier  tlial  in  Komo 
there  were  no  hospitals,  no  di-pensaries,  no  nlmsliouses,  no  asylums 
for  the  deaf  and  duml),  and  bhnd — in  short,  none  of  those  humane  and 
charitable  institutions  which  adorn  our  own  Christian  land,  I  cannot 


I'-;  1.1  Chnstianitij  the  Means  of  CivUizatiQii.  49 

c.i'u  lii'l'"  iHnl  tlip  civilization  of  the  classic  heathen  was  aiiy  thing  bct- 
ii-r  I'lixii  :i  stiliiiiliil  barbarism  ;  and  -vvhatever  may  be  advanced  in  its 
pt  i;i.-,  I  imi^t  !,tiil,juit\vitbstanding,  hold  that  true  civilization,  the  only 
i:i.!  I'l  ( i'.  ibz.iiion  that  the  Christian  philanthropist  can  be  supposed 
^., %;..,:■>    to   i)roMiotc,   cannot  be  originated   but   by   means   of  .Chris- 

••'Ibc  mere  civilizing  plan  does  not,  in  my  opinion,  furnish  motives 
fvjwuUil  I'nouijh  to  induce  men  to  give  up  the  comforts  of  Christian 
lii'i  cnilizcd  society,  and  dwell  among  barbarians,  merely  to  teach  them 
iM  :ii/:i!ion.  There"  is  notliing,  as  I  think,  but  the  love  of  the  souls  of  the 
I;;:,:],.  11  that  will  prove  a  motive  powerful  enough  to  induce  individuals 
I,!  i;i  ,ko  Mich  sacrifices,  and  risk  even  life  too.  Men  may  be  found  who 
.in-  i<  :i(K-  to  lay  their  lives  upon  the  missionarj-  altar,  but  I  think  you 
v.iMiUl  no:  find  any  considerable  number  of  persons  who  are  prepared 
10  .Kacrifico  their  lives  merely  to  civilize  the  heathen." 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  our  society  has  ever  engaged  in  more  than  one 
a;ii'inpl  10  civilize  the  heathen,  in  order  to  prepare  them  for  the  recep- 
l,on  <if  till-  <rospel.  About  forty  years  since  an  attempt  of  that  kind  was 
i:n  le  liy  Dr.  Coke,  the  founder  of  our  missions.  He  was  induced  to 
f-.."n  a  plan  for  the  ]Hirpose  of  introducing  civilization  among  the  Fou- 
Khs  <cf  \V«.'sieni  Africa.  A  number  of  well  disposed  artisans  of  various 
(b-'^cnpiions  were  enuaged  to  go  and  settle  among  the  Foulahs,  and  it 
was  calculated  that  after  some  progress  had  been  made  in  civilization, 
iin-isiunarics  might  then  be  sent  to  preach  the  gospel  to  those  whom 
civilization  should  have  thus  prepared.  This  undertaking  made  con- 
hiiicrable  stir  at  the  time.  It  was  patronized  by  Mr.  Wjlberlorce  and 
o'.Ikt  leading  men  of  the  day,  and  great  expectations  were  excited 
irspcciiiig  its  success.  However,  it  failed  entirely,  and  it  failed  for 
iViit  vcrj-  reason,  that  the  agents  who  were  engaged  to  carry  the  scheme 
irito  execution  did  not  find  sufficient  motives  to  induce  them  to  perse- 
vere. They  reached  Sierra  Leone,  and  there  their  courage  failed  them. 
'i'iifl  innlives  which  had  influenced  them  to  embark  in  the  undertaking 
vti..-  not  powerful  enough  to  impel  them  to  advance  into  the  interior 
of  :ii<'  vonmn.-,  and  settle  among  the  Foulahs,  for  the  purpose  of  merely 
Civili/mg  them." 

••  .^!y  ^l3lt•nu•nl  of  the  second  reason  that  I  have  to  assign  why  the 
j!in  I'l  liciniijiing  with  civilization  does  not  succeed,  will  furnish  an 
answer  to  the  question  which  I  only  briefly  noticed  in  passing.  I  do 
r.f-i  iliiiik  that  civilization  possesses  attractions,  or  furnishes  motives 
l^^vLrlul  cnouL'h,  to  induce  savages  to  forsake  their  course  of  life  for 
v-»  .••ake.  Civilized  life  is  too  tame,  too  insipid,  to  charm  the  roving 
b-tiMnan,  and  his  superstitions  are  generally  found  opposed  to  any 
t.ijiitii-  ii\  )iis  accustomed  course  of  life.  You  must  bring  the  higher 
notniH  of  the  gospel  to  bear  upon  his  mind — he  niust  be  made  to  feel 
t.ic  I'reat  and  important  truths  of  religion  before  ho  will  discover  any 
tiun^r  desirable  in  the  quietness  and  sobriety  of  civilized  life,  or  v.-ill 
Y'''  to  break  throiifjh  his  superstitions  in  order  to  pursue  it.  I  believe 
»•'.;>;  ill.'  charm  of  the  superstitions  of  the  heathen  woidd  alone,  in  many 
ti.nUncis,  be  powerful  enough  to  prevent  them  from  forsaking  the  cus- 
Urtiu  of  their  ancestors  merely  for  the  sake  of  civilization.     It  is  only 


50  Chistianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.        [Januan', 

when  the  truths  of  the  gospel  produce  their  powerful  effect  upon  the 
minds  of  the  heathen,  and  arouse  tliem  to  a  consideration  of  their  higher 
destinies — it  is  only  when  they  are  broiitdit  under  an  influence  of  a 
belief  in  the  true  religion,  that  they  will  dare  Xo  Inejk  through  the  bond- 
age of  their  r-upcrstitions,  and  forsake  their  pilcrnal  customs,  which 
are  generally  bound  up  with  the  superstitions  themselves. 

"  I  may  be  permitted  to  furnish  an  illustration  or  two  of  the  principle 
which  1  am  now  maintaining,  namely,  that  civilization  does  not  furnish 
motives  sufllciently  powerful  to  induce  the  heathen  to  renounce  their 
former  course  of  life.  The  first  of  the  cases  to  which  I  shall  refer  is 
derived  from  the  experience  of  onr  society  among  the  Chippeway  In- 
dians in  Upper  Canada.  I  think  I  stated  to  the  committee  the  other 
day  that  I  am  personally  acquainted  with  a  chief  of  that  nation.  His 
Indian  name  is  Kahkewaquouaby,  si[;iiifying  Sacred  Feathers,  he 
being  one  of  the  Eagle  tribe.  His  Ciiristian  name  is  Peter  .lones. 
His  father  was  a  white  man;  but  he  M-as  brought  up  with  his  Indian 
mother  in  the  woods  ;  and  therefore,  as  it  res|)ccl.s  his  views  and  feel- 
ings, he  may  he  regarded  as  a  thorough  ludir.n.  1  have  conversed 
•with  him  frequently  on  this  subject.  I  was  aware  tlial  the  governor 
of  Upper  Canada  had  made  many  attempts  to  induce  the  Indians  to 
lenounce  their  wandering  life,  and  I  wished  to  ascertain  from  the 
chief  himself  what  were  his  views  of  the  endeavors  made  by  the  go- 
vernor in  their  behalf,  and  how  it  v/as  that  they  failed.  He  said  the 
fact  was  simplj'  this,  that  the  offers  of  the  governor  had  no  charms  for 
them  :  they  could  see  nothing  in  civilized  life  sulliciently  attractive  to 
induce  them  to  give  up  their  former  mode  of  living  for  the  sake  of  it. 
He  told  me  that  they  gave  the  governor  credit  for  very  kind  and  bene- 
volent intentions  ;  yet  in  answer  to  all  his  applications,  while  they 
thanked  him  for  his  kind  intentions,  they  uniforndy  told  him  that  they 
preferred  their  own  mode  of  living  to  that  followed  by  Europeans." 

"  To  begin  again  with  the  Foulahs  :  aUhoii<;h  Dr.  Coke  was  not 
able  to  find  men  who  were  willing  to  give  up  the  comforts  of  civilized 
life  in  order  to  teach  them  civilization,  we  easily  foiuid  men  who  would 
leave  their  native  country,  and  go  into  the  interior  of  Africa,  and  settle 
among  them,  for  the  purpose  of  teaching  them  the  gospel.  We  com- 
menced a  mission  among  this  jieopio  al)out  two  or  three  years  since. 
I  am  happ3'  to  say  that  the  niissinii  is  of  tlie  most  hopeful  character  ; 
the  Foulahs  listen  to  the  gospel,  and  several  of  them  have  already 
given  proof,  by  a  change  in  tlicir  tempers  and  their  lives,  that  they 
have  experienced  its  saving  ofiicacy. 

"In  regard  to  the  Chipjieway  Indians,  1  have  to  state  that  they  are 
comprehended  in  our  missionary  jdans,  and  that  the  success  of  our 
exertions  among  them  ha.s  been  very  great.  The  chief  to  whom  1  have 
made  reference  was  the  first  convert  to  Christianity." — "  He  heard  our 
missionaries  preach  on  a  visit  they  had  made  to  the  Grand  River, 
■which  led  to  a  change  in  his  religious  views,  and  this  was  followed  by 
a  corresponding  alteration  in  hi.s  character  and  pursuits.  Since  that 
time  our  endeavors  have  bei-n  attended  with  stich  success,  that  we 
have  now  ten  very  prosperous  missions  among  the  Chippeways  and 
Mohawks,   and  other  Indiatis.     Wo  have   several  native  preachers 


J  ^  1  ]  J  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.  51 

mii'-iiig  tlifin.  Tliis  same  chief  has  now  for  some  years  been  a 
•>rf;!chcr,  and  is  engaged  in  translating  the  Scri])tures  into  the  Chippe- 
w.iv  l;in"ua"c.  He  lias,  I  beli«ve,  completed  the  gi'eater  part  of  the 
Now  'I'f'staiiient,  which  has  been  printed. 

'"  Tlic  last  of  the  Indian  stations  that  we  have  formed  is  at  the  river 
Si.  ('lair;  and  our  success  there  has  already  been  considerable.  The 
liiii-sinnary  had  more  than  ordinary  diiriculties  to  contend  with ;  and 
ho  found  it  nocessarj^  in  order  to  gain  access  to  them,  to  travel  with 
ihrra.  He  went  out  with  them  on  their  huntin"  expeditions,  that  he 
inii'jit  have  an  opportunity  after  the  chase  to  speak  to  them  on  the  siib- 
jtLi  of  Christianity;  and  his  endeavors  among  them  have  succeeded  to 
a  vjc:\\  extent.  A  very  considerable  number  of  that  body  of  Indians 
1)3\  0  now  embraced  Christianity,  and  have  become  a  decidedly  changed 
people." 

"  Not  only  with  the  aborigines  of  America  do  we  find  that  the  plan 
of  beginning  with  the  gospel  generally  succeeds,  but  also  among  the  de- 
graded negroes  of  the  West  Indies,  as  well  as  the  remains  of  the  Cha- 
li!)  race,  which  formerly  peopled  those  colonies — among  various  tribes 
and  intinns  of  West  and  Southern  Africa— among  the  Hindoos  of  In- 
dia, the  l!uddlii?ts  of  Ceylon,  the  savage  cannibals  of  New  Zealand,  and 
ihc  other  islanders  of  the  South  Sea.  In  the  Friendly  Islands  the 
ix ■•lulis  of  our  missionary'  operations  are  very  remarkable.  It  is  scarcely 
ten  years  since  we  commenced  our  missions  in  that  ])art  of  the  world ; 
and  the  ancient  idolatry  of  the  people  has  been  already  to  a  very 
f.'Tcut  extent  abolished.  In  the  whole  of  the  Ilabai  group  there  is 
not  a  single  idolator  remaining;  and  about  8,000  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Habai,  Vavou,  and  Tonga,  have  become  communicants;  while 
m.iny  hundreds  of  them  are  so  far  advanced  in  Christian  knowledge, 
iliat  ilipy  are  now  engaged  in  assisting  the  missionaries  to  preach  the 
pospel-  or  in  other  ways  teaching  their  countrymen. 

"  I  would  farther  remark,  (generally,)  upon  the  plan  of  beginning 
with  the  gospel,  and  say,  that  success  to  a  certain  extent  has  invariably 
a'.iciidcd  our  missionary  exertions  among  the  heathen.  I  do  not  knov.' 
hu  m.ilanro  in  the  experience  of  our  society  where  our  endeavors  have 
j<:uvfd  wholly  abortive.  Wherever  we  have  made  attempts  to  intro- 
c'cce  lhc>  gospel  among  a  barbarous  people,  and  have  persevered  in  the 
Use  of  suitable  moans,  a  degree  of  success  has  always  resulted. 

'•  And  I  would  add  a  fact  or  two  v.'hich  completely  demolish  the 
tl'.cop,'  thrit  civilization  is  necessary  to  prepare  the  way  for  Christianity : — 

"  <.)no  fact  is,  that  many  of  the  most  savage  tribes  are  more  easily 
brought  under  the  inlluence  of  Christianity  than  those  nations  that  have 
Ucn  for  aires  in  a  state  of  serai-civilization.  Take,  for  instance,  the 
C34C  of  Chma.  I  apprehend  it  will  be  generally  admitted  that  China 
prcM-nis  nrreater  obstacles  to  the  introduction  of  the  gospel  than  the 
iiiisi  barbarous  nations  of  the  earth.  Look  again  at  India,  with  its 
iii«r-iture,  its  science,  and  its  arts.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that,  so 
li'  a<  our  experience  goes,  we  find  that  many  of  the  most  ignorant  and 
»-J«:iii:ivr.u:d  heathen  tribes  receive  the  gospel  more  readily  than  the 
>i.hj!>iiaiits  of  India. 

"  1  he  oilier  fact  to  which  I  refer  is,  that  where  the  modem  prepa- 


52  Christianitij  tlie  Means  of  Civilization.        [Januar}', 

ratory  process  has  partially  succeeded,  so  far  from  sening  to  prepare 
the  heathen  for  the  gospel,  it  has  only  made  them  more  savage  and 
ferocious,  and  less  disposed  than  ever  to  embrace  Christianity.  The 
Mohuwk  Indians  are  an  instance  of  this  ;  and  I  have  the  opportunity 
of  stating  their  case  in  the  uord.s  of  one  who  is  intimately  acquainted 
with  their  past  and  present  circumstances.  The  Ivcv.  INIr.  Ryerson, 
of  Upper  Canada,  in  a  letter  ^ihicli  I  have  recently  received  from 
him,  says, 

" '  A  striking  proof  of  the  incflicacy  of  merely  educational  instruc- 
tion to  civilize  barbarous  tribes,  ami  of  the  power  of  the  gospel  to  civi- 
lize as  well  as  to  Christiani/c  the  most  vicious  of  the  human  race,  is 
furnished  by  the  JMohawk  ualinn  of  Indians  in  Upper  Canada.  The 
Mohawks  are  one  of  the  si.\  nations  of  Indians  to  whom,  at  an  early 
period,  his  majesty  granted  a  largo  tract  of  land,  situate  on  the  banks 
of  tlio  Grand  Ri\er,  the  most  feriib;  tract  of  land  in  Upper  Canada, 
lying  in  the  heart  of  the  province,  and  surrounded  by  a  white  popu- 
lation. Schools  have  been  e.si.iblished  among  the  JNIoliawk  nation 
upward  of  forty  years.  Mosi  of  ihcin  had  been  baptized  by  a  clergy- 
man of  the  Cliurch  of  England,  who  was  appointed  to  visit  them  once 
a  year  for  that  jiurpose.  The  greater  part  of  thon  were  taught  to  read 
and  write  ;  they  were  exhorted  to  till  the  soil,  and  cultivate  the  arts  of 
civilized  life  ;  yet  this  nation  u;is  more  drunken,  ferocious,  and  vicious 
than  any  one  of  the  five  other  )u  aihtn  nations  on  the  Indian  reserva- 
tion. They  were  provcrbi  ■ilv  s:iv:il;i'  and  revengefid,  as  well  as 
shrewd;  so  as  often  to  be  iln-  i.  rmr  of  ilieir  while  neighbors.  In  no 
respect  was  the  social  and  ciiil  cimdiiion  of  the  IMohawks  practically 
and  morally  imjjiovcd  above  th;il  of  the  neighboring  heathen  tribes  by 
the  mere  educational  and  civiiizinu  process  of  fori)'  yeais.  The  ex- 
ample and  vices  of  the  Mohawks  were  often  urged  by  their  heathen 
neighbors  as  an  objection  against  the  Christian  religion  itself  when 
missionaries  were  sent  among  them.  But  a  few  years  ago,  (1825,) 
when  the  gospel  was  preached  to  these  Mohawk  Indians,  as  well  as 
to  the  several  tribes  of  the.  Chiiipeway  Indians,  a  large  portion  of  them 
embraced  it,  (as  have  others  from  that  time  to  this.)  and  became  at 
once  changed  in  their  dispositions  and  reformed  in  their  lives,  teach- 
able, sober,  honest,  and  induslriotis,  and  are  improving  in  the  arts  of 
civilization,  and  cultivating  the  virtues  and  charities  of  Christian  life.' " 

All  these  ])rotractcd  c.xtracH,  liowcvcr,  do  not  present  a  moiety 
of  the  interesting  fuels  wiiifh  ^Ir.  Inecliam  laid  before  tlie  commit- 
tee, or  the  veiA-  able  exliibitioii  lie  gives  of  the  proofs  which  sustain 
his  opinions.  We  must,  therefore,  refer  to  tlic  vokimc,  whicli  wc 
hope  soon  to  see  rcprinlod  in  our  counlr}'. 

The  replies  to  the  same  question  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ellis,  secre- 
tary of  the  London  .Alissiotiary  .Society,  abound  in  coi:finnatory  facts 
and  obsci-valions,  derived  from  personal  residence  and  visitation  at 
foreign  missions  in  various  heallieii  coiuilrics;  but  it  is  impossible, 


1 '« 1 1 .)  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.  53 

\v:'J>!ii  ii!iv  reasonable  limits,  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  tlicir  cha- 
i.-.ciiT  and  value,  and  wc  must,  however  reluclantly,  forego  tran- 
(.iuljiiii.;  his!  lucid  and  discriminating  evidence. 

.V:<  already  remarked,  the  committee  did  not  content  themselves 
\\.\\{  \hc  voluminous  testimony  derived  from  these  missionary  se- 
en i:iries,  but  availed  themselves  of  all  accessible  witnesses,  from 
«!,.  Ill  they  could  derive  accurate  information.  The  volume  before 
u«  ouiilains  numerous  items  of  information  furnished  by  these  wit- 
nesses, and  a  few  of  them  merit  special  notice. 

]->lis!ia  Bates,  a  distinguished  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends, 
;ii!.iciied  to  the  yearly  meeting  of  Ohio,  in  the  United  States,  being 
I!)  Ijiglruid  on  a  visit,  was  summoned  before  the  committee,  and 
!;.uo  a  brief  account  of  the  labors  of  his  denomination  in  behalf 
cf  l!;c  Indians,  since  the  year  1681,  when  WiUiam  Perm  com- 
i!uii(  c(i  these  efforts,  and  since  which,  for  a  century  and  a  half, 
lit  I  wc  en  l!ic  Society  of  Friends  and  the  Indians  of  North  America, 
l!;(  ro  li.-i.--  subsisted  a  good  understanding,  and  more  or  less  of  official 
ini'Tcour.se.  He  stated  that,  since  1817,  he  had  been  personally 
connccled  witii  the  eflbrts  made  for  the  civihzation  and  improvc- 
nieiil  of  the  Indians,  and  was  in  the  committee  having  charge  of 
:!ie  Shawnecs,  and  liad  several  times  visited  them.  They  had 
r.nifornily  attempted  to  introduce  civilization  to  make  way  for 
Ciiri.-^iianity,  and  had  uniformly  failed  ;  for,  after  all  the  amount  of 
libor  and  money  expended,  he  declared  they  could  not  count  on  a 
fiiiqlc  individual  they  had  brought  to  the  full  adoption  of  Chris- 
Uaiiity,  nor  even  to  complete  habits  of  civilization.  Some  improve- 
tr.rM  in  their  condition  was  effected,  but  by  no  means  satisfactorj'. 
'i  .'ic  S<.^icty  of  Friends,  having  been  taught  by  experience,  and  the 

•  iiscrvalion  of  the  success  of  others,  now  deeply  regixt  tliat  they 
<!;•!  not  I'cgin  with  Cliristianity,  and  hence  the  plan  since  adopted  is 
lu  make  Christian  instruction  the  primary  object.  This  plan  was 
fncrdlly  adopted  by  Friends  about  eight  years  ago,  (182S,)  but 
l-x*  not  yet  been  carried  into  effect  to  any  considerable  extent, 
in  ronscqueiice  of  the  litigation  which  grew  out  of  the  divisions 

*  1:11.1  liavc  distracted  the  society  in  America,  and  embarrassed  its 
"jTr.iDons.  At  present,  however,  the  efforts  are  about  to  be  re- 
*w.M  With  those  Indians  whom  the  government  have  removed 
ij  J  !,i(-n,.(l  west  of  the  Mississippi,  and  it  is  intended  to  begin 
*'""'  ^-'iristiaii  instruction,  making  tliis  the  primary  object,  without 

»  t'L.  1.— 4 


54  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.        [Januarj-, 

abandoning  in  any  degree  tlic  efforts  for  civilization.  He  testified 
very  conclusively  touching  the  pacific  disposition  of  llic  Indians, 
•when  treated  with  the  kindness  which  lias  always  characterized  the 
followers  of  William  Penn. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Yate,  missionary  to  the  South  Sea  Islands,  after 
extensive  opportunities  during  a  long  residence  in  New  South  Wales, 
New  Zealand,  Friendly  Islands,  the  Navigators',  the  Feejee,  and 
the  Hapai  Islands,  underwent  a  protracted  examination  on  all  the 
topics  rcfciTcd  to  the  committee,  which  corroborated  fully  the  gene- 
ral statements  made  from  other  sources.  He  coincided  entirely  in 
the  futility  of  all  attempts  at  civilization  except  by  the  agency  of 
Christianity.  The  following  honorable  testimonial  in  favor  of 
American  seamen  is  the  only  jiortion  of  his  evidence  for  which  we 
can  find  room. 

"  American  sailors  behave  wiili  very  great  proiirict y,  and,  compared 
■with  the  English,  their  ships'  crews  are  in  nnich  better  order ;  we 
have  very  rarely  a  complaini  to  make  of  them  ;  their  captains  treat  the 
natives  vrell,  and  the  crews  generally  are  not  so  demoralized  as  the 
crews  of  our  British  whalinq;  ships.  Some  of  the  Americans  are  tem- 
perance ships,  having  no  spirits  on  board,  but  this  has  only  been  within 
the  last  few  years  ;  but  even  bctbre  that  we  had  comparatively  few- 
complaints  of  the  Americans.  We  could  almost  always  welcome  an 
American  captain,  beinj;  quite  sure  tliat  wc  should  not  have  to  reprove 
him  for  his  immoral  conduct  and  his  ill  treatment  of  the  natives.  We 
could  not  always  welcome  our  own  countrymen  in  the  same  way." 

Rev.  Jolm  Williams,  eighteen  years  missionary  to  the  Society 
Islands  in  the  South  Seas,  was  before  the  committee,  and  was 
diligently  questioned.  His  answers  furnish  information  touching 
all  the  circumstances,  capacities,  habits,  wants,  and  peculiarities 
of  the  South  Sea  islanders,  of  immense  piractical  importance,  and 
at  the  same  time  liis  cadence  in  relation  to  the  efficacy  of  Cliris- 
tianity  in  civilizing  the  natives  of  those  islands,  illustrated  by  the 
results  of  Ids  extensive  experience  and  observation,  must  be  read 
at  length  to  be  justly  aj)prcciatcd. 

It  is  impracticable,  however,  adequately  to  present  the  merits  of 
this  volume  within  the  limits  of  a  review,  though  we  have  aimed  to 
cxliibit  the  leading  features  in  the  testimony  of  the  most  important 
witnesses.  Wc  must  still,  however,  refer  the  reader  to  the  work 
itself  for  other  evidence,  not  only  of  Clu-istian  missionaries,  but  of 
converted  Hottentots  and  other  natives,  Ikitish  officers  of  the  army 
and  navy,  for  but  a  portion  of  the  testimony  gf  such  is  here  given,  and 
4* 


jsii.)  Christianity  tlie  Means  of  Civilization.  55 

ail  icuJiiic  to  tlie  cstablislimcnt  of  llie  same  important  truths,  in 
v»)iii!i  the  civilized  and  Christian  world  have  a  deep  and  abiding 
nitfii.^l,  :uid  a  knowledge  of  wliich  ought  to  be  diffused,  to  the  end 
lli.il  C"hri>lian  governments  may  acquire  enlightened  views  of  tlieir 
duties  and  their  obligations,  and  that  Christian  missions  may  be 
jH't'v  iip])rcciated  and  sustained. 

Il'  ilio  \vur!d  is  to  be  evangelized  by  human  instrumentality,  and 
if  llic  church  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the  divinely  appointed  repository 
of  llial  inslrumentalily,  how  tremendous  is  the  responsibility  devolv- 
inij  ujion  all  to  whom  the  Bible  and  the  gospel  have  been  committed 
f.>r  this  end.  Not  only  is  every  individual  Cluistian  under  the 
liiL;licsl  obligations  to  pray  and  labor  for  the  conversion  of  the 
world,  bnt  it  is  our  duty  to  avail  ourselves  of  all  the  hghts  which 
liislor)',  experience,  and  observation  are  fiu-nishing,  as  to  the  appro- 
|.!i:itc  means  and  measures  by  which  we  may  hasten  "the  day  of 
I)...-  I.<.rd." 

ill  liio  l;ght  of  ihe  facts  presented  in  the  volume  before  us,  let 
u.-i  ic.ini  the  consummate  folly  of  the  "  wisdom  of  man,"  and  wiili 
liormning  ilocility  submit  ourselves  to  the  words  which  "  the  Holy 
Ghost  Icaclieih."  Human  reason,  vain  philosophy,  and  the  wisdom 
'  f  ilus  world,  have  exhausted  their  resources  in  devising  plans  and 
?"--lioincs  for  the  overthrow  of  ignorance  and  -vice,  of  superstition 
and  cruelty,  and  for  the  elevation  and  improvement  of  the  miliions 
of  our  race  whose  degradation  and  misery,  amid  the  abominations 
of  hcallicnisni,  appeal  for  compassion  to  earth  and  heaven.  And 
)cl  ui'ncrulion  after  generation  increase  and  multiplj',  not  only  in 
H!niorii;al  stronglli,  but  in  their  habitations  of  cruelty,  until  the 
'•  si",  niin.-ition.  of  desolation"  is  seen  to  overspread  the  fairest  por- 
vaxo  of  our  earth,  and  a  vast,  overwhelming  majority  of  the  family 
of  Jnan. 

.Mcanwliile,  attempts  have  been  made  without  number  to  civilize 
f  »v;i!.jc  man  on  the  borders  of  mighty  continents,  by  planting  towns 
fttiil  ."oiilcments,  and  introducing  upon  these  barbarous  shores  agri- 
•  n.turc  and  llic  mechanic  arts,  and  opening  trade  with  the  natives, 
111  lilt-  cxpcclation  of  bringing  them  to  value  and  imitate  the  arts  of 
c-.vili7.ed  life.  Bui  the  history  of  the  world  has  written  the  epitaph 
^'  iliCHc  futile  efforts  in  the  universal  testimony  of  theii-  failure 
*«»'icli  tnitii  has  constrained.  For  however  ingeniously  devised 
iM  tkilfiiliy  executed ;  however  benevolently  prompted,  and  libe- 


56  Christianity  the  Means  of  Civilization.       [Januan'j 

rally  sustained  by  govcrnmcnls  or  individuals  ;  under  however  fa- 
vorable auspices  they  have  been  commenced,  and  whatever  hopes 
their  incipient  history  may  have  inspired ;  yet  the  experience  of 
centuries  has  shown,  that  with  tlie  introduction  of  civilized  foreign- 
ers into  aboriginal  countries  tlic  vices  of  civilization  have  been 
sinndtaneously  introduced,  and  the  unsophisticated  natives  have 
been  made  the  victims  of  fraud  and  violence,  of  diseases  and  vices, 
of  plunder  and  imposture,  until  their  physical  and  moral  condition 
lias  become  worse  and  worse  by  their  contact  with  a  foreign  popu- 
lation. Hence  wars  of  mutual  extermination  have  been  prosecuted, 
until  either  the  one  or  the  other  of  ihese  different  races  of  men  has 
perished,  and  the  historj'  of  such  enteqirises  has  terminated  in 
blood.  Such  have  been  the  results,  wherever  and  whenever  at- 
tempts have  been  made  to  civilize  savage  men,  by  the  mere  intro- 
duction among  them  of  a  foreign  population  for  pm-poses  of  agi'i- 
culture  or  commerce. 

Ajid  even  when  Christian  men  have  entered  upon  the  work  of 
introducing  ci\  ilization  and  the  arts  among  a  savage  people,  hoping 
thereby  to  jiave  the  way  for  the  gospel,  and  contemplating  the 
future  inculcation  of  Clirislianity  as  the  grand  and  uherior  design 
of  their  labors,  tliey  have  met  with  as  uniform  and  signal  failure  ; 
and  so  frequently  has  this  been  exemplified,  that  a  wide-spread 
prevalence  has  been  given  to  the  opinion,  that  millions  on  milhons 
of  our  race  arc  wholly  inecoverablc  and  irreclaimable  from  the 
habits  and  cruelties  of  savage  life.  Hence  mullimdes  of  benevo- 
lent and  Christian  philanthropists  have  lived  and  died  in  the  opinion 
that  the  myriads  of  the  heathen  rare  arc  beyond  the  reach  of  civili- 
zation, which  they  ascribed  to  the  want  of  capacity,  the  deficiency 
of  intellect,  the  utter  insusceptibility  of  improvement,  which  they 
supposed  to  characterize  them  as  an  inferior  race  of  beings,  destined 
to  everlasting  degradation,  both  intellectual  and  moral.  And  all 
these  unworthy  inferences  have  been  drawn  from  the  failure  of 
these  misdirected  efforts,  all  prompted  by  the  "wisdom  of  this 
world,  which  is  foolishness  with  God." 

How  slow  arc  men  to  learn  that  for  every  variety  of  human  giiilt 
and  himian  miser)',  for  every  form  of  physical,  intellectual,  and 
moral  evil,  with  wliich  the  world  is  fdled  by  reason  of  sin,  the  Fa- 
llier  of  .-dl  fletli,  the  God  of  all  grace,  has  provided  a  sovereign 
antidote,  an  all-sidHcient  remedy !    This  remedy  is  one  and  indivi- 


ivji.l  Christ ianitij  the  Means  of  Civilization.  57 

tt\i\t\  nilmiuinc  of  no  substitute,  and  needing  no  aiixiliar)',  and  it  is 
fcumi  in  "  llie  udorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God,"  wlu'ch  is  adapted 
I :,  r\y^\  luiinan  being  ou  the  face  of  the  -whole  earth,  whether  ele- 
\ \'  A  M  llic  highest  pinnacle  of  human  knowledge  and  virtue,  or 
L.'.Vii  iiilo  the  lowest  pit  of  igirorance,  degradation,  and  vice. 
\N  hi  n  die  (Jod  of  love  sent  the  Son  of  his  love  on  a  mission  of  love 
t.<  i!!!r  pcrisliing  world,  he  designed  to  provide  a  scheme  for  human 
ri  CO*  cry  coextensive  with  lunnan  wo,  and  adapted  to  reach  fallen 
IT1.1I1  in  ever}'  modification  and  circumstance  of  his  being,  and  ade- 
(jinti-  to  every  conceivable  einergency  of  that  being.  What  infinite 
love  iias  prompted,  and  infinite  wisdom  has  devised,  infinite  power 
hi!"  executed ;  and  now,  "  where  sin  hath  abounded,  grace  dolli 
much  more  abound."  Hence  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God,  the 
tiivinc  in.siilution  of  Christianity,  is  the  first  grand  and  only  ciFicient 
i;;5iniiiiC!Uality  in  the  recoveiy  of  the  family  of  man  from  the  hor- 
r.i)'.c  pit  into  wliich  the  human  race  have  been  plunged  by  sin. 
Tii.ii  tospcl  is  designed  for  "  all  nations,"  including  all  the  tribes 
<if  liralheiiisni ;  it  is  destined  to  be  "preached  to  every  creature," 
rrnlivacing  the  inhabitants  of  every  imcivilized  country,  of  eveiy 
biibarous  clime,  of  every^  savage  island,  where  human  foot  hath 
v:ik\.  It  is  divinely  adapted  to  every  man,  in  everyplace,  at  eveiy 
\'A\:i:,  and  needs  no  previous  preparation  for  its  reception,  no  pre- 
Lniinary  qualification  on  the  part  of  any  human  intelligence  to  hear, 
to  inuici-¥tand,  and  to  obey  it.  It  comes  warning  every  man,  and 
tcji  iiinu  every  man,  that  "  by  the  grace  of  God  Jesus  Christ  tasted 
lir.iili  for  every  man."  Such  is  the  gospel,  the  glorious  gospel  of 
'.};«  K.^M(^.  of  God,  which  is  declared  to  be  "  worthy  of  all  accepta- 
i-.'^t!,"'  that  is,  adapted,  prepared,  suitable,  fitted,  worthy  of  the 
ft(.c«-;>i.iiion  of  all  men.  It  is  the  ])ower  of  God  unto  salvation  to 
f»cry  one  that  belie vcth,  to  the  Jew  first,  hut  also  to  the  Grech. 

Ar.d  now,  what  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter?  Docs 
r;'>J  i!ie  gospel  accomphsh  all  it  promises  1  Among  every  nation, 
L.-.d.ri-d,  longiic,  and  people,  where  the  simple  gospel  message  has 
J-ccfi  taken,  is  there  one  example  of  its  failure  ?  Is  any  nation  so 
'-'■•cr.ided,  any  jjcople  so  corrupt,  any  heathen  so  untractable,  as  to 
"'.'•J'.-.il  the  "power  of  God"  which  resides  in  the  gospel?  Is  any 
U.if  n-licion  so  strong,  any  superstition  so  rooted,  any  abomination 
<■•  l'a'.ii!isin  .so  indomitable,  that  tlic  gospel  cannot  overthrow  it? 


58  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Januarj', 

Let  the  tcsliniony  of  this  volume  answer.     Let  llic  history  of  mo- 
dern Christian  missions  utter  the  response.     We  abide  the  issue. 

And  docs  the  gospel  need  to  be  preceded  by  the  arts  of  civilized 
life,  as  the  wisdom  of  man  vainly  tcachcth  ?  Nay,  verily,  the  law 
of  the  Lord  is  perfect ;  the  go.spcl  of  God  our  Saviour  admits  of  no 
human  emendation,  and  needs  no  human  device,  cither  to  precede 
or  succeed  it.  The  reception  of  the  gospel  prepares  the  soul  and 
the  body  of  man  to  be  happy  and  useful  even  in  this  present  life ; 
it  is  a  remedy  for  sin,  in  whali'vcr  form  it  exists,  whether  in  hea- 
then or  in  Christian  lands.  Tlie  only  preparation  the  gospel  needs, 
the  gospel  makes  ;  the  onh'  auxiliaries  the  go.spcl  allows,  the  gos- 
pel includes ;  and  as  the  social  and  moral  improvement  which  is 
the  essence  of  civilization  is  the  fruit  of  the  gospel  wherever  it  ex- 
ists, so  llic  gospel  alone  is  atlequalc  to  jiroduce  it,  ^vhtrc  it  is  not. 
Hence  the  evidence,  indubitable  and  convincing,  which  is  now  be- 
fore the  world,  that  Cliristianity  alone  is  the  necessary  agent  in 
civilizing  the  uncivilized,  including,  as  it  does,  in  itself,  "whatso- 
ever things  arc  lovely  and  of  good  report."  To  speed  the  mis- 
sionary work,  to  extend  the  gospel,  to  propagate  Christianity  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  is  all  that  is  necessary  or  desirable  to  bring  glory 
to  God  and  to  advance  the  happiness  of  man.  For  godliness  is 
profitable  unto  all  things,  having  the  puomise  of  the  life  th.\t 
NOW  IS,  and  of  tliat  which  is  to  come. 


RT.  IV. —  Tracts  for  the  Tlims  ;  Inj  Members  of  the  Universitij 
of  Oxford : — 8vo.,  3  vols.     Rrjirintcd  and  stereotyped:  New- 

V^^l-     icon    ii!,in 


Ar 

YorlJl839-lS'iO 


There  are  few  thing-i  whicl!  the  Cinislian  world  more  gene- 
rally agree  in  than  to  wonder  how  the  Jews  could  adopt  and  retain 
with  such  invincible  tenacity  tlie  doctrine  that  the  Messiah  woidd 
be  a  temporal  prince,  who  should  exalt  them  under  the  Jlosaical 
dispensation  to  a  state  of  the  greatest  visible  power  and  magnifi- 
cence ;  and  yet  there  are  few  things  in  wiiich  we  more  resemble 
the  Jews  than  in  this  very  partictilar.  Wc  do  not,  indeed,  expect 
to  see  our  Messiah  reigning  personally  over  mankind,  but  we  sub- 
stitute for  the  moiKirchicdl  theory  of  the  Jews  our  doctrines  of  the 
visible   cluuch  of  Clnist ;  which,   under  various  exhibitions,   we 


)sl!.)  Tracts  for  the  Times.  59 

iii.iuiufy  to  such  an  extent  of  autlioritj'  and  power,  that,  in  reality, 
I'lO  (lifVcrcnce  between  Jew  and  Christian  for  the  most  part  is 
Mil, ill.  The  popes  of  Rome  claim  to  be  viceroys  for  Christ, 
and  cxerri.sc  tliat  power  as  temporal  and  spiritual  princes  over  a 
very  large  portion  of  Christendom.  Tiic  Church  of  England  cxJii- 
\ii\A  ihcir  theory  under  an  aristocracy  of  bishops  ;  and  similar  fea- 
|iiu-!i  are  conlinuall)'  furnished  us  in  the  ecclesiastical  sj'stems  of 
various  Protestant  denominations  under  more  democratic  constitu- 
tion-; ;  but  which,  like  the  mustard  seed  of  one  of  our  Saviour's 
parables,  only  require  opportunity  to  attain  to  a  portentous  magni- 
luilc.  In  former  times  these  peculiarities  were  much  more  promi- 
nent than  at  present,  for  there  has  been  a  great  moral  improvement 
going  on  during  the  last  Imnch-ed  years,  which  has  greatly  softened 
diiwn  ecclesiastical  presumption  ;  and  has,  at  least  with  the  great 
bt«,ly  (if  Protestants,  induced  a  more  distinct  perception  of  the  truth 
uf  our  Kcdecmer's  declaration,  that  his  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world; 
IJial  it  is  witiiin  us ;  that  it  is  a  spiritual  kingdom ;  that  it  belongs 
alone  to  the  understanding  and  conscience,  and  that  it  is  perfectly 
consistent  willi  various  forms  of  ecclesiastical  polity.  Tlie  direct 
itiflueaee  of  this  conviction  has,  in  the  United  States,  established  it 
a.s  ;iji  undoubted  truth,  that  no  one  sect  of  Christians  can  be  regarded 
as  tlie  only  true  and  visible  chiu-ch  of  Christ,  nor  that  any  one  is 
belter  entitled  to  the  protection  of  the  laws  than  other  Clu-istian 
feels.  But  wc  must  not  forget  that  our  conviction  of  the  truth 
of  this  doctrine  has  been  chiefly  obtained  through  the  peculiarities 
of  our  republican  institutions  ;  and,  consequently,  that  in  the  an- 
rii'iit  Muninrchies  of  Eiu-opc,  where  jiarlicular  sects  have  long 
«.ii"yi(l  an  especial  jirotcctiou  of  the  state,  we  must  not  be  sur- 
J  .'!'<d  tiiat  the  doctrine  of  the  equality  of  all  religious  sects  is  not 
liiily  a  novelty  to  many  persons,  but  that  it  is  regarded  with  great 
iiiiiMrrcnce  by  all  tliosc  who  benefit  from  the  ecclesiastical  patron- 
h;;c  (if  the  state. 

In  England,  where  a  numerous  body  of  dissenters  are  arrayed 
ai-ani^t  the  great  privileges  enjoyed  by  the  Established  Church, 
tlie  doctrines  to  whicli  we  have  just  alluded  have  become  matters 
"f  deep  inierest  to  all  parties  concerned,  and  the  movements  of  par- 
haiiu-nl  already  seem  to  indicate  the  withdrawing  of  that  exclusive 
|M-.i(.i..,..rp  by  which  tlic  Cluu-ch  of  England  has  been  for  so  long  a 
lane  ii:^lingnished.    The  Established  Church,  as  might  be  supposed, 


60  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Januarj-, 

is  greatly  opposed  to  .tlicsc  anticiiialod  innovations,  and  has  used 
every  exertion  to  prevent  tliem  from  taking  place.  Ajnong  otlier 
agencies  employed  by  lier  clercy  have  been  the  publication  of  the 
writings  at  the  head  of  this  article,  now  more  commonly  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Oxford  Tracts  ;  the  doctrine,  argument,  and  ten- 
dency of  which  we  sluill  no\v  lay  before  our  readers,  witli  such 
comments  as  the  nature  of  the  subject  may  seem  to  require. 

The  Church  of  England,  from  tiic  time  of  the  Reformation  until 
the  present  day,  has  ever  been  a  lordly  corporation.  Her  ministers 
arc  a  dignified  corjjs,  enjoying  rank,  revenue,  and  much  legal  au- 
tliority.  Parliament  has  made  laws  which  not  only  secured  their 
privileges,  but  restrained  and  punished  all  those  who  did  not  recog- 
nize the  Church  to  be  of  divine  appointment,  and  with  a  ministry' 
Avlio  traced  their  office  and  authority  through  a  long  succession  of 
consecrated  individuals  backward  to  the  apostles  of  Jesus  Christ. 
The  noble  and  the  rich,  as  \vell  as  mere  commoners  of  learning 
and  abiUties,  have  crowded  into  the  Church,  and,  as  might  be 
anticipated,  have  become  zealous  defenders  of  a  corporation  which 
amply  provided  for  talented,  if  not  (lifir.icrcstcd  advocates. 

This  view  of  the  lordly  and  long  estiilVii.dicd  Church  of  England, 
"K'itli  great  privileges  hereditary  to  her  organization,  at  once  explains 
the  liaughtj'  indignation  with  which  the  clergy  of  that  sect  express 
themselves  whenever  their  dignity,  authority,  or  emolument  is 
tlffcatened  with  any  dijninution,  so  that  we  can  readily  understand 
why  this  proud  corporation,  inuler  the  terror  of  our  reforming  age, 
have  come  forth  in  the  Oxford  Tracts,  jjroclaiming  to  the  world 
that  "  the  state  would  forget  their  GuiP  should  they  withdraw  that 
exclusive  patronage  v.'ilh  which  the  English  Church  has  been 
hitherto  regarded.  It  requires  no  jjrophct  to  reveal  the  motives 
wjjich  have  dictated  the  Oxford  Tracts ;  but  as  they  have  them- 
selves stated  their  object  explicitly,  wc  avail  ourselves  of  their  own 
exj)osition,  wliich,  as  it  was  no  doubt  the  oliject  nearest  their  hearts, 
so  they  have  stated  it  in  the  first  of  the  Tracts  in  such  clear  terms 
that  he  that  runs  can  read,  and  also  iniderstand,  without  the  aid  of 
any  commentaiy.  The  reader  will  jilease  observe  that  the  first  Tract 
is  formally  addressed  to  the  clergy  of  the  Established  Clnirch. 

"  Should  ihe  government  nnil  ibo  eoiinlry,"  say  the  Tracts,  "  so  far 
forget  their  God  as  to  cnst  oil' the  Church,  and  to  do|)rive  it  of  its  tem- 
poral honors  and  subsistence,  on  vhiil  xntl  yon  Test  the  claim  of  respect 
and  attention  u-hich  yvxi  vtahc  upon  your  focKs  ?     Hitherto  ycni  have  been 


lS-11.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  61 

uphill  hy  yourlirlli,  your  education,  your  wealth,  your  connections ;  should 
thcsi-  secular  advantages  cease,  on  what  must  Clirist's  7iunisters  depend? 
Is  not  this  a  srriotis  practical  question?  We  know  how  miserable  is 
tl;c  state  of  lolisious  bodies  not  supported  b}'  the  state.  Look  at  the 
diisciitors  on  all  sides  of  you,  and  you  will  see  at  once  that  their 
ministers,  depending  upon  the  pcojJe,  become  the  creatures  of  the  peo- 
ple. Are  you  content  that  this  should  be  your  case?  Alas!  can  a 
jrri-ntcr  evil  befall  Christians  than  for  their  teachers  to  be  guided  by 
lliem,  instead  of  guiding  ?" 

The  Oxford  Tracts,  tlicrefore,  very  clearly  show  why  ihey  liave 
bc(?n  publislicd  in  England,  and  any  speculation  upon  motives  be- 
comes superfluous  after  tliis  candid  avowal  of  personal  and  tempo- 
ral considerations.  We  trust  tlie  readers  of  the  Tracts  will  not 
forget  this  avowal  of  motives  while  reading  the  remaining  Tracts, 
for  there  miglit  be  doubtful  passages  of  Scripture  to  be  interpreted, 
which  it  niigiit  not  be  Christian  prudence  to  understand  in  the  light 
that  llic  self-interest  of  tlie  Oxford  divines  may  perhaps  recom- 
iiH'iid  to  tiic  obedience  of  those  whom  they  are  accustomed  to 

But  let  us  now  inqtiire  why  these  Tracts  have  been  republished 
in  the  United  States.  Evciy  one  must  be  aware  that  in  former 
times  the  Chiuch  of  England  was  paramount  in  most  parts  of  oiu 
coiinlrj',  and  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  comprehended  in  a  recog- 
nition by  the  British  government.  To  her  communion  pertained 
the  officers  of  the  crown,  and  all  those  families  of  distinction  in 
England  that  sent  younger  sons  and  younger  brothers  to  malte  their 
fortunes  in  America.  The  clergy  of  the  Episcopal  sect,  therefore, 
bcfdrc  our  revolution,  maintained  a  dignity  of  function  and  privilege 
iii  lliis  coinUry  derived  from  the  grandeur  of  the  English  Eslablish- 
jncnt,  Mid  looked  forward  to  obtain  similar  honors  and  emoluments 
OH  an  American  foundation.  But  when  the  protection  of  the  state 
WP..S  wiilidrawn  from  the  Episcopal  Church,  after  the  revolutionary 
slnigtrlc  liad  lerminated,  her  clergy  sunk  down  1o  the  same  level 
with  those  of  other  sects,  and  they  have  been  obliged  ever  since  to 
u.'^c  the  means  employed  by  other  sects  to  maintain  their  coi-poratc 
existence.  The  Episcopal  Church  of  the  United  States  since  that 
lime  has  possessed  no  more  importance,  in  the  view  of  the  people 
of  our  country,  than  any  other  denomination  of  Christians  ;  and  for 
»5ic  most  part  they  feel  no  more  interest  as  to  what  is  transacted  in 
licr  convciuions  than  ihcy  do  as  to  the  proceedings  of  tbc  most 
insigniilcant  sect  among  us.     It  is,  however,  true,  that  the  clergy 


62  Tracts  for  the  Ti»ics.  [January, 

of  the  Episcopal  sect  in  tlie  United  States  have  not  general!}'  en- 
tertained this  more  reasonable  opinion  of  themselves,  for  many  of 
lliem  do  notoriously  cherish  a  belief  that  they  arc  superior  to  the 
clergy  of  other  sects,  as  being  of  the  line  of  the  episcopally  ordained 
English  successors  of  the  apostlcs.  This  reminds  us  of  what  we 
arc  told  occurs  at  limes  in  Europe  among  impoverished  individuals 
of  noble  families,  who,  though  reduced  to  labor  for  their  support, 
like  ordinal}'  mortals,  nevertheless  often  entertain  a  notion  that  they 
arc  of  a  superior  race,  and  that  they  ought  to  be  regarded  with 
peculiar  consideration,  though  their  work  is  not  belter  done  than 
that  of  other  persons  similarly  employed.  A  family  recognition 
was  once  formally  extended  by  liic  proud  English  to  the  American 
episcopacy,  when  the  late  Bishoj)  Wliiic  and  others  received  ordi- 
))ation  from  them,  accompanied,  however,  with  the  ungracious 
condition  that  no  American  Episcopalian  should  have  an  interest  in 
the  profitable  monopoly  of  the  elder  briinch  ;  and  so  rigorously  has 
tliis  prohibition  been  constnied,  that  an  American  Episcopalian  is 
not  permitted  even  to  preach  in  an  English  Episcopal  pulpit. 

But  it  is  not  only  a  sympathizing  decayed  family  reverence 
toward  the  honors  and  dignities  of  the  English  Church  that  has 
moved  the  Episcopal  sect  in  the  United  States  to  republish  the 
Oxford  Tracts ;  but  these  volumes  contain  a  lofty  exposition  of 
man)'  doctrines  and  opinions  wliich  belong  to  the  common  faith  of 
the  two  churches  that  ar-e  wholly  independent  of  any  question  of 
stale  protection.  The  Church  in  the  United  States,  as  well  as  the 
English  branch,  maintain  they  are  of  a  divine  conslilufion,  and  pos- 
sess an  apostolically  ordained  minislr)',  v.'ith  exclusive  right  to 
administer  the  sacraments,  and  to  pronounce  absolution  for  Pro- 
testant sins ;  nor  is  it  a  single  time  that  they  have  had  the  assu- 
rance to  say,  tliat  Protestants  not  of  the  Episcopal  sect  were,  like 
the  heathen,  "  left  to  the  tmcoverianted  mercies  of  God."  Seeing, 
tliereforc,  that  the  pretensions  of  this  class  of  Episcopal  churches 
are  exalted  to  the  greatest  height  by  the  Oxford  Tracts,  we  per- 
ceive at  once  the  inanifest  reason  why  the  sect  in  the  United  States 
sliould  republish  what  is  vciy  harmonious  with  their  own  notions 
of  themselves,  and  of  which  they  can  adopt  or  reject  just  as  much 
or  as  little  as  it  may  be  convenient  to  profess  in  such  a  community 
as  om-s. 

From  what  the   Oxford  Tracts    have   themselves   stated,    we 


lg.ll,]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  63 

iiiHicrslaiid  their  prime  object  is  either  to  induce  the  slate  not  to 
williJniw  tlieir  exclusive  patronage,  or,  should  they  not  succeed  in 
this,  to  secure  a  comfortable  living  independent  of  the  laity,  sliould 
llic  state  cut  those  allachments  that  liave  hitherto  boiuid  the  Church 
to  Uie  state.  To  accomplish  this  end,  the  clerical  authors  of  the 
Tracts  have  used  every  means  to  induce  the  English  parliament 
atid  the  nation  to  regard  the  clergy  of  the  Chm-ch  of  England  as  a 
divinely  constituted  body,  having  great  spiritual  power  and  influ- 
ence. If  they  can  fully  persuade  the  nation  to  believe  tliis,  they 
nnlicipatc  from  llieir  religious  consciences  that  enjoyment  of  honor, 
power,  and  emolument  which  they  have  hitherto  received  from  tJie 
government,  independent  of  popular  estimation.  If  they  can  suc- 
ceed in  persuading  men  of  the  truth  of  their  doctrines  on  this  sub- 
ject, tlicy  may  confidently  anticipate  what  is  stated  in  the  conclusion  | 
of  llie  tenth  Tract.  \ 
"  Tlien  will  you"  (i.  c,  the  laity)  "  look  at  us,"  (the  clergj-,]^  "  noi  as  | 
gontkinen,  itc,  not  as  your  superiors  in  worldly  station,  Arc,  but  as  5 
lucbscngcrs  from  Him  who  seeth  and  worketh  in  secret,  &c.  Then  | 
you  will  lionor  us  with  a  purer  honor  than  you  do  now,  namely,  as  those  I 
vho  arc  intrusted  with  the  keys  of  heaven  anil  hell,  as  the  heralds  of  merci/,  i 
as  the  denouncers  of  wo  to  wicked  men,  as  intrusted  ui.th  the  awful  and  1 
tni/slerious  gift  of  making  the  bread  and  wine  Christ's  hodi/  and  Hood,  .  , 
as  far  greater  than  the  most  powerful  and  the  wealthiest  of  men  in  our 
uiisccu  strength  and  our  heavenly  riches,"  &c.,  &c. 

Having  shovMi  the  motives  that  produced  the  O.xford  Tracts,  wc 
shall  now  exhibit  the  machinery  by  which  they  propose  to  accom- 
pli>li  an  end  so  interesting  to  them  as  the  securing  of  tlieir  future 
Isiiiiois  ruul  revenues.  They  commence,  as  we  have  already  stated, 
v.ri!  tlie  doctrine,  that  if  the  "state  forsakes  them,  the  stale  forgets 
(•''.'I;"  ajid,  to  justify  this  posilion,  they  assert,  throughout  the 
Tracts,  that  the  Church  of  England  is  the  true  catholic  church, 
as  conHiiuted  by  Christ  or  the  apostles  ;  and  hence,  as  liaving  the 
divine  .Author  of  Christianity  for  her  founder,  so  it  must  follow,  by 
iniavoidablc  inference,  that  all  arc  guilty  of  sin  or  schism  if  they 
withdraw  from  this  divinely  constituted  churcli,  or  of  sacrilege  if 
tliey  assail  any  of  its  privileges. 

"^^o,"  say  the  O.xford  divines,  "have  been  bom  not  of  blood,  nor 
it>p  will  of  ihe  flesh,  nnr  by  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God.  The  Lord 
^1  ■"•H  Christ  pave  his  Spirit  to  his  apostles  ;  tliey,  in  turn,  laid  their 
h»j.(U  on  those  who  should  succeed  them,  and  these  again  on  others  ; 
aijj  .<!o  iho  sacred  gift  has  been  handed  down  to  our  present  bi.shops, 


64  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [January, 

^vho  have  appointed  us  as  ihcir  assistants,  and,  in  some  sense,  repre- 
sentatives."* 

This  assumption  of  tlic  Tracts  manifestly  iinphes  two  most  im- 
portant facts ;  first,  that  Christ  did  cstabHsli  an  ecclesiastical  cor- 
poration or  church,  with  sacred  powers  to  ordain  ministers,  &c.; 
and,  secondly,  that  the  clergy  of  the  Eiiglisii  C'hurch  are  legiti- 
mately descended  from  the  apostles  in  virtue  of  their  episcopal 
ordination. 

Tliough  all  rules  of  logic  require  those  who  assume  facts  tending 
to  their  benefit,  to  prove  those  facts  tnic  before  they  draw  conclu- 
sions from  them,  yet  tlie  O.vford  divines  liave  done  nothing  of  this 
kind,  and  we  might  dismiss  their  assumption  as  an  unreasonable 
absurdity,  for  surely  no  one  is  required  to  prove  the  negative  to 
unwarrantable  assumptions  made  by  avowedly  interested  persons  ; 
yet  as  we  liave  something  to  say  on  the  general  subject  that  may- 
be useful  to  our  readers,  iiRlcjiciulent  of  any  controversy  with  the 
Oxford  divines,  we  will  make  the  doctrine  of  these  Tracts  subser- 
vient to  our  purpose  by  analyzing  their  assumptions,  both  as  regards 
the  divine  constitution  of  their  Church,  and  the  succession  of  their 
clerg)'  by  regidar  ordination  from  the  apostles. 

The  doctrine  of  apostolic  succession,  as  claimed  by  the.  English 
Church,  is  of  no  importance  unless  tlie  fact  lie  first  established  that 
Clirist  or  the  apostles  did  constitute  a  cor])oration  of  ecclesiastics, 
who  were  alone  authorized  to  make  clerical  ordinations.  It  is, 
therefore,  needless  for  us  to  inquire  whether  all  the  formalities  of  a 
valid  ordination  have  been  observed  or  not  in  the  Catholic  or  the 
English  Church,  until  we  have  ascertained  the  fact,  that  Christ  or  the 
apostles  did  establish  a  church  making  such  ordinations  essential. 
All  lliat  we  shall  observe  on  this  })oint  is  to  caution  our  readers 
not  to  be  confused  by  any  notion  that  a  long  succession  of  clergy 

*  The  mniiifcst  ailvantajc  of  such  a  thfnry  ofrlrricDl  commission,  as  chiimed 
in  onr  text,  may  be  profitalily  coiUra.stcil  with  a  7iiuc  ol)Scrvation  made  in  the 
fourth  Oxford  Tract :  "  Look  on  your  pastor  as  acliiin;  by  man's  commission, 
and  you  may  respect  the  authority  by  uhioli  he  acts  ;  you  may  venerate  and 
love  his  personal  cliaractcr  ;  but  it  can  Ijardly  be  railed  a  religious  feneration. 
There  is  nothing  properly  sacral  alwul  him.  liut  once  learn  to  regard  liim 
as  the  deputy  of  Christ  for  rcdiicinp  man  lo  llie  obodience  of  God,  and  every 
thing  about  him  becomes  dianged  ;  every  thing  standi  in  a  new  light." 

The  pclicij  to  be  pursued  in  such  cases  miist  1)e  evident,  but  what  is  the  ndc 
of  the  Scripture  on  the  subject? 


iSil.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  65 

from  aJi  early  period  of  Christian  liistory  proves  any  thing  wliatcver 
as  til  the  divine  appointment  of  that  clcrg}'.  It  is  with  a  cliain  of 
siiccfssivc  ordinations  as  it  is  with  a  material  chain, — it  can  never 
lie  j^iioiigcr  than  its  weakest  link.  No  matter  how  strong  it  may 
he  in  every  other  part,  it  will  inevitably  break  at  the  defective  link. 
.\(.i\v  it  is  nndcniable  that  as  there  has  been  a  body  of  Christian 
]icoplo  successively  living  in  the  world  from  the  times  of  the  apos- 
tles until  the  present  day,  so  there  has  always  been  during  tliat 
toatiiuious  existence  a  successive  number  of  religious  teachers  or 
insinictors,  whom  we  nov/  technically  denominate  the  clergy-.  In 
like  manner  there  has  been  a  regular  succession  of  professors  and 
tutors  in  all  colleges  and  universities  from  the  earliest  time  that 
such  institutions  acquired  a  corporiety ;  but  such  a  succession  will 
]irove  nothing  as  to  the  nature  of  the  charter  under  which  they 
iiave  iictcd.  The  fact  of  a  regular  succession  of  ordained  clerg\'- 
mcn  from  a  very  ancient  period,  therefore,  proves  notliing  as  to 
llieir  iliL-ine  appointment  at  the  beginning.  The  point  at  issue  is, 
whcilicr  Christ  or  the  apostles  made  episcopal  ordination  essen- 
tial to  the  finictions  of  religious  teachers,  or  whether  ordination 
originally  implied  any  thing  else  than  a  mere  public  recognition  of 
a  man's  ability  to  teach  on  the  part  of  those  who  v.-ere  competent 
to  ascertain  his  capacity  and  gifts. 

The  point,  therefore,  that  we  shall  discuss  with  the  Oxford 
divines  is,  whether  Christ  or  his  apostles  established  an  ecclesias- 
tical corporation  of  bishops,  presbyters,  and  deacons,  who  were 
vested  with  exclusive  powers  to  ordain  their  successors  in  the 
niini^ln,',  administer  the  sacraments,  &c.  This  point  must  be 
dclcrinincd  before  we  can  admit  the  Church  of  England  to  be  the 
true  catholic  church  of  Clmst,  and  who  enjoys  all  the  benefits  and 
privileges  that  he  is  asserted  to  have  conferred  on  the  church. 

All  ilic  leading  Christian  sects  agree,  with  the  Oxford  divines, 
tliat  bishops,  presbyters,  and  deacons,  as  being  recogniz.ed  by  the 
iScriptures,  must  be  considered  as  sanctioned  by  apostohc  autho- 
rity ;  but  the  theologians  and  doctors  of  all  Protestant  sects  differ 
irorn  them  as  to  the  commission,  function,  or  authority  that  was 
f  onferred  on  these  ministers  of  the  church.  There  is  no  dispute 
\\h.itcvcr  as  to  the  fact  whether  there  were  bishops,  presbyters, 
And  deacons  in  office  in  the  churches  established  by  the  apostles, 
but  ilic  conUovcrsy  is,  what  were  their  powers  and  functions  in 


66  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [January, 

tliose  churches?  Now  on  ihis  point  llie  Oxford  divines  liave 
assumed  the  well-known  argamcnl,  so  long  employed  by  their 
church,  namely,  that  the  episcopal  form  was  that  constitution  of  the 
Cluislian  churcli  wliich  is  recorded  to  have  been  in  operation  by 
the  earliest  fathers  ;  and  therefore  since  that  form  can  be  traced  up 
to  the  age  nearly  succeeding  the  apostles,  so  it  is  most  unreasona- 
ble not  to  regard  this  fact  as  abundant  proof  that  episcopacy  was 
established  by  the  apostles  ;  for  it  is  urged,  with  a  delusive  plausi- 
bility, how  could  the  jjriinitive  Cliristians  forsake  and  follow  a  sys- 
tem difiering  from  tliat  established  bv  the  apostles? 

But  this  inference,  plausible  as  it  may  seem  to  those  who  are 
ignorant  of  this  controversy,  l.iecomes  naught  in  the  fact  that  all 
other  Protestant  sects  deny  that  the  primitive  church  was  of  the 
constitution  as  claimed  by  the  advocates  of  episcopacy,  and  that 
the  testimony  of  the  earlier  fathers  is  contrary  to  such  a  supposi- 
tion ;  and  hence  the  inferences,  as  made  by  the  fJnglish  Church, 
are  a  direct  begging  of  the  question.  A  strenuous  controversy  has 
long  existed  among  the  differing  sects  of  Clu-istians  as  to  what  was 
the  form  of  the  primitive  church,  the  rank,  power,  functions,  &r., 
of  her  ministers,  as  set  forth  in  the  writings  of  the  fathers  of  the 
first  tliree  centuries.  But  this  question,  we  presume,  will  never 
be  determined,  seeing  that  th.e  theologians  of  one  sect  claim  the 
evidence  of  those  fathers  as  establishing  tlic  doctrine  of  the  Church 
of  Rome,  others  that  of  the  Church  of  England ;  others  contend 
the  testimony  of  the  fathers  demonstrates  the  doctrine  of  the  Pres- 
byterians, and  others  again  claim  their  testimony  to  justify  the 
position  of  the  Independents.  If  we  sliould  rely  upon  the  doctors 
of  any  one  of  tlicse  four  cIuutIics,  we  should  infer,  fi-om  their 
writings,  that  those  of  I'le  oilier  three  were  the  most  prejudiced 
and  unreasonable  people  in  the  woiM. 

After  the  volumes  upon  vohnnes  ilial  have  been  \\Tiltcn  in  this 
controversy,  we  should  have  siudiid  to  little  profit  if  wc  did  not 
come  to  the  direct  conclusion  that  neilher  Christ  nor  his  apostles 
recognized  any  form  of  church  e.st:ibli;hment  as  essential  to  our 
Christian  obedience  ;  otherwise,  tlie  Scriptures  surely  would  have 
told  us  so  ciyrcsshj,  Init  tliis  all  sects  agree  they  have  not  done.* 

*  Even  the  Oxfonl divines  aoknow)idi;c  this  in  ihcir  eighth  Tract :  "There 
is  no  part  of  the  eccltbiastical  tystcin  \\\m\\  is  nui/uintti/  traced  in  Scripture, 
sind  no  part  xchich  is  much  more  ilian  faintly  traced." 


)S11.1  Tracts  for  the  Times.  67 

Tliis  judgmcnl  of  ours  is  again  directly  confirmed  in  the  fact 
lliat  uoiliiiii^  can  be  gatliered  from  the  writings  of  the  fathers  that 
will  r.-itabli.sli  llie  particular  theory  of  any  of  the  contending 
churdii's,  though  inferences  more  or  less  favorable  to  any  one  of 
ihiui  may  be  gleaned  from  these  ancient  v/ritings.  This,  to  us,  is 
conoliiiivc  that  no  particular  form  of  church  or  of  ministerial  func- 
tion had  been  delivered  to  them  as  ol  jus  divinvm,  divine  right, 
for  wc  cannot  beheve  they  would  have  forsaken  such  a  system. 
But  as  there  was  no  form  bound  on  them  as  matter  of  obligation, 
so  their  practice  was  loose  and  undetermmate,  and  differed  among 
ihcni  in  various  particulars,  imtil  expediency,  sometimes  misjudg- 
nicjit,  and  sometimes  less  pardonable  motives,  influenced  them  to 
become  consolidated  into  forms  of  church  organization  which  we 
cannot  recognize  as  being  that  used  in  the  apostolic  age,  but  of 
lliat  corruption  which  the  apostles  did  foretell  should  take  place  in 
llic  chui-ch. 

j\o\v,  tu  understand  tlie  constitution  of  the  primhive  church  cor- 
rectly, a  short  exposition  only  is  necessary  to  show  the  fallacies  of 
the  positions  assumed  on  this  subject,  not  only  by  the  Oxford 
divines,  but  by  other  ^Titers  on  ecclesiastical  polity.  These  con- 
troversialists, for  the  most  part,  very  ignwrantly  suppose  that  the 
terms  bishop,  presbyter,  and  deacon  were  first  used  in  relation  to 
the  church  by  om:  Saviour  or  his  apostles,  and  that  they  were  con- 
.•<ccratcd  by  them,  for  the  first  time,  to  designate  the  ministry  of 
the  Christian  church.  But  never  was  there  a  more  grievous  mis- 
take ;  for  the  words  bishop,  presbyter,  and  deacon  were  names  of 
ofliccr.s  in  the  Jewish  sjmagogues,  and  were  familiai'Iy  used  as 

From  tlic  Dublin  Review  of  May,  1840,  pages  34.5,  340,  a  Roman  Calliolic 
J  ^Wiratioii,  \vc  t.ake  the  following  statement:  "Avowedly  there  is  no  direct 
ij.oiitii.in  of  the  bishop  of  Rome  in  the  Scripture,  no  specification  of  the  spiritual 
au'.lmriiy  given  to  St.  Peter;  no,  nor  even  of  the  authority  given  to  the  suc- 
f'vMirs  of  the  apostles  in  general.  On  these  subjects  the  Scripture  is  silent. 
.Vol  one  of  the  sacred  writers  has  thought  of  describing  in  detail  the  plan  of 
church  government  which  the  apostles  established  to  be  observed  after  their 
•loath.  For  that  we  must  have  recourse,  as  the  Oxford  teachers  admit,  to 
ifsdiiion." 

Wc  also  subjoin  the  following  observation  of  Dr.  Miller  of  Princeton,  a 
I-irnod  (lofender  of  the  Presbyterian  theory  :  "  And  here  it  is  proper  to  premise, 
iKit  wb„evpr  expects  to  find  any  formal  or  explicit  decisions  on  this  subject, 
i!<-l.v»-rcj  by  Clirist  or  his  apostles,  will  be  disappointed."— MH^A  Xt^f"  <"' 
'■'.f  Cirtslian  Ministry,  tj^c,  p.  26. 


69  Tracts  fo7-  the  Times.  [Jaiiuar}', 

such  among  the  Jews  for  centuries  before  our  Saviour's  advent. 
In  proof  of  this  the  reader  can  consult  Lightfoot  in  various  pas- 
sages, especially  see  vol.  vi,  p.  2'JG,  (tc,  together  with  other  VTilers 
on  rabbinical  usages. 

It  is  also  abundantly  clear  that  the  synagogue,  with  all  its  cus- 
toms, though  excellent  in  theh  design  and  use,  were  not  of  divine 
appointment.  The  synagogue  ser\-icc  stood  in  relation  to  the  tem- 
ple service,  which  was  of  divine  ajipointmcnt,  very  much  as  a 
prayer  meeting  with  us  at  the  present  day  docs  in  relation  to  the 
regular  public  service.  Tlic  synagogue  necessarily  was  much 
more  conspicuous  than  our  prayer  nrcetings,  because  there  was 
and  could  Ijc  but  one  temple  to  the  whole  Jewish  nation ;  but 
throughout  Judea,  and  everywhere  among  the  Gentiles,  the  Jews 
could,  and  thought  themselves  obhgcd  to,  establish  synagogues. 
Hence  they  are  prominent  in  the  latter  periods  of  Jewish  history 
as  places  of  public  assembly  for  religious  worship.  Our  Saviour 
and  liis  apostles  continually  attended  the  Jewish  synagogues,  and 
the  first  disciples  were  members  of  them  until  they  were  expelled 
by  the  unbelieving  Jcv.-s.  13ut  when  the  first  Christian  believers 
had  become  sufhcienlly  )iunierous,  they  assembled  together  as  a 
body  imder  the  accustomed  forms  of  the  synagogue,  as  is  evident 
from  the  manner  in  which  their  religious  worship  was  performed, 
and  in  the  appointment  of  the  ordinary  synagogue  officers,  namely, 
bishops,  presbyters,  and  deacons,  whose  functions  were  perfectly 
well  understood  as  being  old  institutions  to  which  they  and  their 
fathers  had  been  accustomed  for  centuries.  But  though  Christ  and 
his  apostles  thus  used  the  fonn  of  the  old  Jewish  synagogue,  they 
nowhere  tell  us  that  they  had  conferred  the  sanction  of  a  divine 
approbation  upon  that  form,  as  being  obligatory  upon  Christians 
for  ever;  consequently,  as  they  have  not  done  this,  we  cannot 
come  to  any  other  rational  conclusion  than  that  they  considered 
the  assemblies  of  Christians  to  be  under  ordinary  s^magogue 
usages,  and  wliich,  as  being  perfectly  understood,  required  no  in- 
stniction  from  tlicm.  We  therefore  cannot  look  upon  the  primitive 
Christian  churches  to  liave  been  any  thing  else  than  mere  syna.- 
gogucs,  whether  it  regards  the  appointments  of  the  ministers,  or 
ceremonial  of  religious  services.  By  these  simple  facts  we  can 
explain  why  the  Scriptiues  arc  silent  on  the  subject,  as  well  as 


1841.1  Tracts  for  the  Times.  69 

every  particular  belonging  to  the  history  of  the  earher  Christians; 
for  it  becomes  a  very  easy  matter  to  understand  how  corruptions 
were  superinduced  upon  spiagogue  usages,  and  how  the  simple 
bishops,  ])resb)'tcrs,  and  deacons  of  the  fust  Christian  sjiiagogiics, 
in  the  course  of  three  centuries,  should  have  attained  to  an  emi- 
nence altogether  inconsistent  with  the  original  theory  of  their 
apjjoiritnient  as  synagogue  officers.  On  the  contrary,  the  notion 
tliat  Ciirist  or  iiis  apostles  did  actually  establish  a  chiu-ch  under 
jiosiiive  appointments,  is  altogether  irreconcilable  willi  the  fact 
thai  the  Scriptures  nowhere  recognize  any  such  constitution.  And 
further,  the  testimony  of  the  fathers  of  the  iii-st  tluec  centuries 
covdd  not  have  been  so  utterly  inconclusive,  had  there  ever  been 
any  particular  church  economy  established  either  by  the  wisdom 
or  the  authority  of  Christ  or  his  apostles. 

The  most  impartial  view  of  the  primitive  church  that  wc  are 
actpiaintud  with  is  that  of  Lord  King,  foniierly  chancellor  of  Eng- 
land, who  lias,  from  the  writings  of  the  fathers  of  the  first  three 
centuries,  brought  togetlier  all  those  particulars  more  especially 
bearing  on  the  subject.  But  the  reader  must  not  forget  that  a  pe- 
riod of  one  hundixd  and  fifty  years  inteiTcnes  between  the  times 
of  tlie  apostles  and  that  of  the  earliest  father,  and  consequently 
Lord  King's  book  does  not,  for  he  could  not,  give  any  information 
HS  to  the  carhcst  state  of  things  after  the  apostles,  but  during  which 
period  the  mysteiy  of  iniquity  must  have  worked  strongly,  seeing 
it  had  begun  in  the  very  days  of  St.  Paul,  under  his  actual  cogni- 
z-ince.  2  Thess.  ii,  7. 

IJiit  though  wc  apprehend  enough  has  been  said  to  show  how 
inconclusive  are  the  assumptions  of  the  Oxford  Tracts  as  to  the 
divine  constitution  of  the  English  Church,  and  apostolical  descent 
of  her  ministr)',  j'ct,  to  furnish  our  readers  with  other  arguments 
to  meet  those  who  defend  episcopacy  upon  the  theory  of  the  Tracts, 
wc  shall  now  show  that  all  the  evidence  that  the  Church  of  England 
has  ever  been  able  to  accmnulate  on  those  subjects  is  so  palpably 
defective,  that  many  of  her  most  distinguished  clergy  have  openly 
denied  the  Church  of  England  to  be  of  divine  appointment,  as  well 
s'  other  assumptions  based  upon  the  theor}^  of  her  divine  constitu- 
tion. .\mong  this  number  are  persons  no  less  eminent  than  Arch- 
'  •'^'■'"P"'  Usher  and  Tillotson.     Bishops  Burnett,  Hoadly,  Warbur- 

Vou  L-5 


70  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Jaiiuaiy, 

ton,  Watson,  Tomlinc,  &c.,  besides  doclors  and  historians,  sach 
as  Lighlfoot,  Chillinguoitli,  ]\[ihicr,  Fal)er,  <tc.*  But  as  the 
favorers  of  Oxford  divinity  arc  not  ordinarily  well  read  in  the 
writings  of  the  above  regularly  ordained  clerg}'men  of  their  own 
church,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  substantiate  our  assertion  with  some 
short  quotations,  which  arc  both  directly  and  indirectly  pregnant 
with  wholesoine  considerations. 

Bishop  'S^^irburton,  in  his  Tracts,  page  4G7,  makes  the  following 
ob'sen-ation  upon  one  who  is  generally  quoted  as  the  great  cham- 
pion of  episcopacy : — 

"The  gi-eat  Hooker  was  not  only  an;iiust,  but  laid  down  principles 
that  ]\ave  entirely  subvcTloJ  oil  jmlcnccs  lo  a  divine  unaJtcrahk  right  in 
any  form  of  clmrcli  government  rrhatevcr.  Vcl,  strange  to  say,  his  work 
was  so  unavoidable  a  conl'ul;ition  of  Pmituiiicul  pvinciplcs,  which,  by 
the  way,  claimed  tlicir  presbyliry  as  of  divine  rifjlit,  that  the  Church- 
men took  advantaije  of  the  success  of  their  champion,  and  now  began 
10  claim  a  divine  right  for  episcopacy  on  the  strength  of  that  very  book 
that  subverted  all  pretences  lo  cvcnj  species  of  divine  right  whatsoever." 

Again,  the  saiuc  eminent  bishop,  in  his  .Sermon  on  Chiu-ch  Com- 
miuiion,  makes  the  following  remarks  : — 

"My  purpose  in  this  discourse  was  only  to  expose  the  vain  opinion 
of  inherent  sanctity,  or  siipcrioriiy,  or  exclusive  privilege,  in  one  church 
above  another,  merely  bi'cau^o  founded  by  a  Paul,  a  Peter,  an  Andrew, 
or  a  James,  or  merely  because  adnuiiistcred  b)-  an  hierarchy,  by  an 
equal  ministry,  or  a  moderate  episco|)acy ;  because  such  opinions  have 
produced,  and  do  still  jnoducc,  that  wrelcbcd  spirit,  which  here,  on  the 
authority  of  God's  word,  1  have  endeavored  to  discredit,  and  ventured 
to  condenni,  confiding  in  the  orac-les  of  ciemal  truth,  that  he  that  is  not  \ 

against  ns  is  for  us,"  (the  serinun  was  preached  upon  Mark  ix,  39,  or  \ 

Luke  xi,  49,  50,)  "  and  will  be  treated  by  our  heavenly  Father  not  as  | 

a  rebel,  but  a  subject ;  and,  therefore,  shoidd  be  now  considered  by  us  1 

as  he  will  then  be  by  him,  who  is  tlic  common  Judge  of  us  both."  | 


*  Thai  we  may  anticipate  any  cavil  concerning  the  sentiments  of  the  indi- 
viduals quoted  in  our  text,  we  nm>t  remark,  that  though  they  are  altogether 
opposed  to  the  views  of  the  Oxford  divines,  for  these  doctrines  are  of  ancient 
date  in  the  English  Church,  yet,  ncvcrthch'ss,  all  those  quoted  by  us  considered  | 

episcopacy  to  be  of  apostolic  usage  and  approliation.     They  adopted  that  the-  i 

ory  on  the  same  grounds  as  the  Preshylerians  or  the  Independents  liave  done 
with  theirs,  under  the  persuasion  that  it  was  most  conformable  with  the  usages 
of  primitive  times.  Uut  at  the  same  time  tiicy  do  not  esteem  episcopacy  to  be 
of  divine  enactment,  nor  that  it  is  essential  to  a  Christian  chmch.  A  good 
idea  of  their  general  sentiments  on  the  subject  may  he  fonned  from  the  quo- 
tations we  make  from  Bishops  Warburlon  and  Tondine. 
5* 


1841.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  71 

We  will  add  to  the  foregoing  tlic  opinion  of  Bishop  Tomline,  the 
preccj)lor  of  the  late  WilUani  Pitt,  prime  minister  of  England  : — 

"  As  it  lias  not  pleased  our  almighty  Father  to  prescribe  any  particu- 
lar form  of  civil  governmont  for  the  security  of  temporal  comforts  to  his 
rational  creatures,  so  neither  lias  he  prescribed  any  particular  form  of  ec- 
rlfiiaxlicdl  politij  as  absolutely  necessary  to  the  attainment  of  eternal 
Jiappiiiess,  <fcc.  The  gospel  only  lays  down  general  principles,  and 
leaves  the  application  of  them  to  men  as  free  agents.  Fauh  and  good 
works  are  the  only  things  indispensably  required  for  salvation."  And 
again,  "  Neither  Christ  nor  his  apostles  prcscrihed  any  particular  form 
itf  ordaining  ministers  to  be  observed  in  succeeding  ages  ;  but  they 
left  this,  with  other  things  of  a  similar  nature,  to  be  regulated  by 
the  church."  {frcityman^s*  Elcmenis  of  Theology,  vol.  ii,  pp.  396, 
397,  427.) 

Now,  sliall  we  be  absurd]}'  told,  in  reply  to  this,  that  oilier 
arclibisliops  and  bishops  have  maintained  the  di\inc  constitution 
of  llie  jjriinilivc  ehurch,  and  apostolical  descent  of  the  clergy  of 
tlie  English  Cluircli  ?  '^^^ly,  this  is  an  uridotibtcd  fact ;  but  wliat 
IS  llieir  testimoii}'  worth  when  wc  consider  the  undue  weiglil  that 
great  worldly  honors  and  rich  endowanents  necessaril)-  had  upon 
men  testifying  to  a  system  that  so  deeply  involved  their  own  inte- 
rest ?  The  testimony  of  such  persons,  like  that  of  the  O.vford 
divines,  cannot  be  received  but  as  influenced  by  the  bias  of  self- 
iutcrest,  which  both  reason  and  law  exclude  from  witnessing  in 
their  own  cause.  But  against  this  testimony  of  the  self-interested 
there  arc  many  bishops  and  doctors  of  the  English  Church  who, 
v.tll  aware  of  the  controversy  on  this  subject,  have  nevertheless 
!"' cstly  renounecd  the  doctrine  of  a  divine  constitution  for  their 
Chureii,  as  well  as  the  apostolical  succession  of  their  ministry. 
Th.rt  llicy  siiould  do  so,  uidess  the  doctrine  maintained  by  the  0.x- 
lord  'J'racts  was  altogether  deficient  in  its  supposed  proofs,  woidd 
lie  an  incomprehensible  proceeding  on  the  part  of  men  of  acknow- 
ledged virtue,  capacity,  and  learning. 

^^  c  have  thus  furnished  our  readers  whh  a  conclusive  argument 
ag.iinsl  the  assumptions  of  the  Oxford  divines ;  for  it  must  appear 
preposterously  absurd  in  their  episcopal  advocates  to  expect  that 
<iiil>rcjudiced  persons  should  recognize  their  assumption  of  a  divine 
ew.'isiiiuiion  and  succession,  when  bishops  and  doctors  of  their 
"••vn  Church   scout   such    pretensions.      But    as   wc   have   other 

•  Toinlm,  bishop  of  Lincoln,  had  liis  name  changed  from  Preltyman. 


72  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Januarj', 

objections  to  urge  on  this  subject,  \\c  shall  endeavor  to  make 
a  deeper  impression  on  our  readers  hy  a  closer  anal3'sis  of  the 
Tracts. 

The  Oxford  divines,  after  having  inost  distinctly  proclaimed  tliat 
Christ  or  liis  apostles  did  establish  a  corporation  of  bishops,  pres- 
byters, and  deacons,  with  exclusive  jiowers  to  ordain  their  succes- 
sors, administer  the  sacraments,  &:c.,  next  fill  up  tlic  outline  of  this 
bold  assumption  with  traditions  of  the  clergy,  concerning  their  own 
authority  and  powers,  together  with  the  establishment  of  sundry 
rites,  ceremonies,  doctrines,  Aic,  unknown  to  tJic  Scriptures.  After 
ihey  have  stufled  their  work  out  to  a  sufficient  magnitude,  they 
present  it  to  the  world  as  the  Inic  catholic  churcli  of  Christ,  to 
whom  he  made  an  unfailing  promise  that  "he  \',ould  be  with  her 
to  the  end  of  the  world." 

But  nolwitlistanding  this  s])ccific  jnomisc  of  Christ  tliat  he  would 
be  with  the  church  to  the  end  of  the  world,  the  Oxford  Tracts 
directly  state  that  the  Catholic  Church,  during  the  progress  of  a 
thousand  years,  fell  into  grievous  errors  of  faith,  doctrine,  and 
practice  !  ! !  {Tracts,  Nos.  30,  35,  fee.)  But  tlicn,  again,  we  are 
assured  by  the  Tracts  the  Church  of  England  purified  herself  en- 
tirely from  all  the  errors  and  corruptions  that  liad  occurred  in  the 
Catholic  Church,  and  that  she  now  possesses  the  original  holiness 
and  perfection  of  the  church  as  at  first  constituted  by  Clu-ist  or  his 
apostles.  The  Chiuch  of  England,  therefore,  is  the  true  and  only 
catholic  churcli,  seeing  the  dissenters  arc  all  schismatics,  and  that 
the  Romanists  have,  according  to  the  conclusion  of  the  thirtj'-fifth 
Tract,  "  so  corrupted  the  trutli  of  (ion's  word,  that  they  are  not  to 
be  listened  to  for  a  moment."  ?s'ow,  we  arc  free  to  confess  that 
nothing  can  be  more  vcxatiously  incomprehensible  than  the  above 
statement;  for,  in  the  first  place,  wc  cannot  understand  how  a 
church  having  the  j)romisc  of  Christ's  continuous  presence  until  the 
end  of  the  world  covdd  possibly  become  comipt.  And,  again,  when 
from  the  notorious  corruptions  of  tlie  Komish  Church  we  could 
satisfy  ourselves  that  the  nature  of  Christ's  promise  to  the  church 
has  been  altogether  misundcr.~iood,  so  that  the  contradiction  is  from 
the  absurd  interpretation,  and  not  from  any  failure  of  Christ's  pro- 
mise,— we  say,  when  we  have  brrome  convinced  of  this,  our  un- 
derstanding is  utterly  confounded  in  being  told  by  the  Oxford 
Tracts  that  the  jiromise  of  Christ  stands  fast  according  to  the  Ro- 


1841.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  73 

mish  inlcrprctalion,  has  never  failed,  and  is  yet  the  pectiliar  boast 
and  privilege  of  the  Church  of  England  !  !  ! 

Bill,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Oxford  Tracts,  Clirist's  pro- 
nli^c  to  be  with  the  churcli  to  the  end  of  the  world  is  fulfilled  by 
the  simple  preservation  of  episcopal  succession  among  the  clergy. 
The  promise  of  Christ  was  not  to  preserve  the  church  from  error 
in  failh,  doctrine,  or  practice,  but  that  an  episcopally  ordained  suc- 
cession of  ministers  should  never  be  wanting  to  the  church.  This 
promise  then  has  never  failed,  so  that  no  matter  how  profligate  any 
of  this  apostolically  ordained  ministry  may  have  become,  neverthe- 
less their  wickedness  does  not  the  less  make  tliem  the  ministers 
of  God  to  us,  and  through  whom  alone  we  may  with  cojifidcnce 
expect  to  obtain  that  salvation  for  which  Christ  died.  But  this 
position  of  the  Oxford  divines,  instead  of  removing  difficulties,  only 
makes  matters  more  confused  ;  for,  if  the  claim  of  the  Church  of 
fhii.':l:ind  lo  be  the  true  catholic  church  of  Christ  rests  not  upon  a 
j.rcjfcs>ion  of  the  true  doctrines  of  Christianity,  but  upon  her  epis- 
copal succession  from  the  apostles,  how  are  we  to  regard  the  Greek 
Ciiurrh,  the  Ncstorian,  Coptic,  and  other  Eastern  churches,  that 
have  an  episcopal  succession  as  well  as  the  Chiu-ch  of  England  ? 
Nay,  so  has  the  Church  of  Rome,  undeniably.  How  can  we  then 
determine  to  which  of  these  divinely  constituted  hierarchies  our 
allegiance  properly  belongs?  According  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
Tracts  it  would  seem  to  be  an  indifferent  matter  which  we  submit- 
ted to,  seeing  thej'  all  have  episcopal  ordination  and  succession. 
But  then  if  this  be  Irae,  is  it  not  supremely  absurd  for  the  Church 
of  Enidand  to  obtrude  herself  on  our  consciences  as  being  the  only 
true  calliolic  church,  seeing  her  only  argument  is  the  apostolic  suc- 
cession of  her  clergy,  which  apostolical  ordination  is  equally  con- 
ceded to  the  Romish,  the  Greek,  and  various  Eastern  chm-ches  ? 

Rut  again,  if  the  promise  of  Christ  to  be  with  the  church  did  not 
iinjily  sxTiirily  from  errors  of  faith  and  doctrine,  and  that  it  is  alone 
fulfilled  in  tlic  preservation  of  episcopal  ordination,  it  surely  would 
1-c  reasonable  for  us  to  have  anticipated  that  this  great  blessing 
Wimld  liave  been  transmitted  through  a  succession  of  apostolically 
umHhd  men  or  bisho]5S.  Now  without  loading  the  Church  of 
l.i-.i:!'t!id  with  the  ecclesiastical  obliquities  of  popes  and  bishops 
•"  I'To  i!ic  Reformation,  or  of  any  of  her  own  clerg}'  shice,  we 
.•,Ki.!  n.c-ixly  state,  as  an  eminent  proof  of  the  whimsical  absurdity 


74  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [January, 

of  the  Oxford  Tracts,  that  tlic  Chmch  of  England,  as  sucli,  lias 
never  ]iad  any  choice  whatever  in  selecting  iicr  bishops,  those 
vaunted  successors  of  the  apostles.  Neither  could  she  refuse  to 
accept  them  when  nominated  by  the  crown,  but  was  obliged  to  take 
and  consecrate  them,  fit  or  not  fit,  by  communicating  to  them  the 
Holy  Ghost.  The  promise,  therefore,  of  Christ,  as  to  the  succes- 
sors of  liis  apostles,  docs  not  rest  on  the  Church  in  her  corporate 
existence,  but  is  vested  in  the  prime  minister  of  England,  whom, 
by  direct  inference  from  the  theory  of  the  Oxford  Tracts,  we  must 
presume  to  be  qualified  by  the  Koly  Oliost  to  select  individuals 
most  suitable  for  the  perfecting  of  ihc  Church,  and  for  transmitting 
that  spirit  of  ordination  without  which  no  one  can  rightly  administer 
the  holy  sacraments,  or  proclaim  lo  the  people,  they  being  peni- 
tent, the  remission  of  their  sins. 

That  our  readers  may  fully  ajiprcciaic  the  correctness  of  the 
foregoing  observation,  we  extract  llie  following  admissions  from  the 
fifty-ninth  Oxford  Tract  :— 

"The  appointment  of  all  our  hislmps,  and  in  much  the  greater  number 
of  instances  of  those  vlio  arc  to  umhrtahr  the  cure  of  souls,  is  vested  in 
the  hands  of  inciiviJuuls  irrcspoiisiljle  ami  unpledged  to  any  opinions 
or  any  conduct ;  L'lymcn,  good  or  hnd,  .-'.s  it  ma)"  Imppcn,  orthodox  or 
heretic,  faithlul  or  infidid.  The  bislinps,  iicr^i  one  of  ihm,  are,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  appointed  by  the  pviuic  minister  for  the  time  being,  who, 
since  the  repeal  of  the  test  act,  may  be  an  avowed  Socinian,  or  even 
atheist.*  A  ver%-  large  projwrlion  of  oilier  clmrch  benefices,  carrying 
with  them  the  cure  of  souls,  are  likewise  in  the  hands  of  the  prime 
minister  or  of  the  lord  clianccllor,  and  c)tlier  lay  patrons,  who,  like  him, 
may  be  of  any  or  no  religion.  As  to  tiie  elocliori,  (of  the  bishops,)  the 
dean  and  chapter,  with  whom  it  still  furmaliy  rests,  have  only  twelve 
days  given  them  to  iM(pnrc  into  the  character  of  the  person  nominated, 
who  may  he  an  entire  stranger  to  even/  one  of  them,  or  known  through 
report  rnost  vifuvorahh/ ;  if  ihoy  tail  lo  elect  in  this  time,  election  be- 
comes unnecessary,  and  the  crown  presents  without  it.  And  now  the 
dean  and  chapter  have  eight  days  given  them,  and  the  archbishop 
twenty,  for  rcllection  ;  if  witliin  these  periods  the  former  fails  to  go 
through  the  form  of  election,  and  the  latter  to  consecrate,  both  parties 
subject  themselves  to  the  pains  and  penalties  of  a  prainunire,  that  is. 

*  This  is  a  spiteful  fling  at  the  repeal  of  an  act  which  the  Oxford  divines 
know  very  well  never  at  any  time  prevented  cither  atheist  or  Socinian  from 
being  prime  minister.  But  it  excluded  every  conscientious  dissenter  in  Eng- 
land from  any  office  of  trust  or  honor,  and  the  malevolence  of  the  high  church- 
men overflowed  on  the  cunsider.ilion  llial  they  could  persecute  the  dissenters 
no  longer. 


1811.1  Tracts  for  the  Times.  75 

all  their  "onds,  ecclesiastical  and  personal,  are  liable  to  coniiscation, 
aiiJ  tliemsi^ves  to  imprisonment  till  sucli  tirue  as  they  submit." 

Il  iDUSl  be  evident  from  tlic  foregoing  extract,  that  to  reconcile 
tiic  .'ilatenient  tlicrc  made  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Oxford  Tracts 
concerning  the  divine  constitution  of  their  Cliurcli,  it  is  necessary 
to  (•on>idor  the  Redeemer  of  the  world  as  having  abandoned  all 
govcriiinent  of  the  church  as  its  head.  He  has  divested  himself  of 
III!  aL'riicy  other  than  that  of  sustaining  the  "awful  authorhy"  of 
the  clcrg)-  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  of  communicating  the 
1  loly  Ghost  to  tliosc  bishops  and  ecclesiastics  "  whom  prime  minis- 
ters, chancellors  or  lajancn,  orthodox  or  heretic,  faithful  or  infidel, 
.<cc  fit  to  appoint  to  the  cure  of  souls."  Though  clergymen  may 
be  forced  on  the  churcli  unworthy  of  their  appointment,  yet  are 
tlu'.y  afterward  made  fit  by  Christ  liimsclf,  who  sanctifies  the  pa- 
tronage of  the  prime  minister,  chancellor,  or  laymen,*  and  intrusts 
the  ini'.ividual  now  made  holy  "with  the  keys  of  heaven  and  of 
ln-11.  and  witli  tlic  myslerious  gift  of  making  the  bread  and  wine 
Chri.st's  body  and  blood,"  as  we  have  already  c^uoted  from  the 
tenth  Tract  in  a  preceding  page. 

N(nv,  wh.itever  other  persons  may  tliink  of  a  doctrine  that 
involves  siicli  inferences,  we  cannot  hesitate  to  term  it  blas- 
pliciiious,  and  how  any  one  not  laboring  under  judicial  blindtiess 
can  tliinii  othcnvise,  we  must  acknowledge  appears  to  us  to  be 
inc()ni]jrehensible.  But  as  we  arc  unable  to  say  any  thing  on  this 
!!nl>iect  that  can  put  it  in  a  more  odious  light,  we  shall  turn  our 

.\s  it  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  a.scertaiii  the  true  motives  of  prime  minis- 
f-r*.  Ac,  in  sdcctin;^  bisliops  and  other  ecclesiastics,  we  give  the  following 
oJifvinf;  f.Mraets  as  illustrative  of  ordinary  views  upon  such  subjects:  "In 
l.i.«  minaer  did  I  acquire  a  bishopric.  But  I  have  no  great  reason  to  be  proud 
of  th(r  prornosion ;  for  I  think  I  owed  it,  not  to  any  reg.ird  which  he  who  gave 
It  III'-  li.id  10  the  zeal  and  industry  with  which  I  had  for  many  years  discharged 
ih--  functidns  and  fulfdlcd  the  duties  of  an  academic  life,  but  to  the  opinion 
\*lii'h,  Irom  my  sermon,  he  had  erroneously  entertained,  that  I  u-as  a  warm, 
n:.J  iir.i:lu  become  a  useful  {polilicnl)  partisan.  Lord  Shclburne,  indeed,  had 
t  \j.:r.~,-,,-d  to  llic  duke  of  Grafton  his  expectation  that  I  woidd  occasionally 
'■-'lit  a  pnmjMct  for  tticir  administration,  &c.  I  had  written  in  support  of  the 
r--.ii<-ij.!fs  ol  the  Hevolution,  <S;c.  I  had  taken  part  with  the  people  in  their 
f»-<;ii.)ns  acraiiisi  tl,e  inllucnce  of  the  crown,  &c.,  &c.  But  all  this  was  done 
!'«u  ii.v  own  sense  of  things,  and  without  the  least  view  of  pleasing  any  party. 
J^''l'  '^""""f  >■.  happen  1(1  ptrasc  a  (jiolitical)  parly,  and  they  made  me  a  Instiop." 
hishop  vf  Landaft  {Watson)  Memoirs,  vol.  i,  p.  153. 


76  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Januarj^, 

attention  to  other  matter?,  commending  tlic  preceding  exposition  to 
the  consideration  of  such  of  the  Episcopal  sect  in  tlic  United  States 
as  may  happen  to  sec  tlicsc  pages,  the  unavoidable  inferences  thai 
follow  the  doctrinal  thcorj'  of  the  Oxford  Tracts.'  How  much 
superior  to  such  a  system  as  this,  and  how  much  more  conformable 
to  the  letter  as  well  as  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  the  doctrine 
of  that  respectable  minority  of  the  Cluirrh  of  England,  who,  though 
they  advocate  episcopacy  under  the  belief  that  it  is  more  conform- 
able to  the  usages  of  the  primitive  church,  and  to  an  inferential 
approbation  of  the  apostles,  than  any  other  form  of  church  polity; 
nevertheless,  at  the  same  lime,  recognize  other  Protestant  sects  as 
being  tmc  members  of  the  body  of  Clirist,  and  fully  entitled  to  all 
the  privileges  and  blessings  of  the  C'hristian  profession.  The  doc- 
trine of  a  divinely  constituted  church,  and  apostolic  succession  of 
clergy,  on  the  contrary,  is  iinl  only  absurd,  as  we  have  already 
shown  it  to  be,  but  it  eounlcrncts  Christian  charity,  engenders 
pride  and  bigotr}',  has  thrown  tlic  English  Church  out  of  commu- 
nion with  Protestant  chnrclics,  and  has  aiTayed  her  on  the  side  of 
the  Romish  Church  under  circu.mstanccs  highly  prejudicial  to  the 
principles  of  true  Christianity.  This  we  shall  hereafter  attempt  to 
demonstrate  to  our  readers  under  an  exhibition  that  involves  the 
most  serious  considerations,  even  though  we  may  err  in  the  appli- 
cation we  shall  there  make. 

Hitherto  we  have  regarded  the  Cliurch  of  England  only  by  con- 
troverting the  magnificent  position  assumed  for  her  by  the  Oxford 
divines,  and  not  according  to  the  light  in  which  she  ought  to  he 
regarded  according  to  her  public  and  private  history.  But  we  shall 
now  devote  some  space  to  that  subject,  and  an  exhibition  of  her 
corporate  history  and  ])roccc(ling<,  of  which  it  may  be  said  in  the 
words  of  Junius  to  the  duke  of  I'cdi'ord,  "that  there  is  still  left 
ample  field  for  sj)Cculation  when  panegyric  is  exhausted." 

Whatever  may  be  the  views  of  the  difTcrent  Christian  sects  as  to 
tlie  constitution  of  the  primitive  claurh,  or  of  the  authority  of  the 
first  Christian  ministers,  yet  all  v.ill  agTCC  that,  by  fair  means  or  by 
foul,  the  whole  of  western  Christendom  became  consolidated  into 
one  universal  system,  which  recognized  the  popes  of  Rome  to  be 
its  true  visible  Iicad.  When  the  Iteformation  of  Luther  took 
place  in  Europe,  the  clergy  of  this  Catholic  Church  were  familiar 
to  the  eyes  of  all  men  as  a  corporation  that  had  existed  above  a 


IS-II.]  Tracts  for  the  Tillies.  T7 

tliousancl  j-Civrs  under  very  full  and  defined  constitutions  as  to 
tlicir  fiiiictinns  and  privileges,  the  exalted  cliaractcr  of  which  might 
1)C  safely  inferred  from  the  fact,  that  the  clergy  themselves  had 
been  the  legislators  for  themselves,  and  that  they  firmly  believed 
they  were  of  Christ's  ov/n  appointment,  and  under  the  formidable 
protection  of  angels,  saints,  and  mart)T:s.  Under  such  a  theory  it 
may  be  readily  understood  that  the  clergy  were  amply  provided  for 
in  large  endowments  and  revenues,  as  well  as  rank  and  honors. 
'I'hey  were  further  intrenched  behind  innumerable  precedents,  de- 
rived from  fathers,  councils,  and  popes,  speculating  upon,  or  legis- 
lating directly  on  their  own  privileges  and  authority.  It  would  be 
altogether  superfluous  for  us  to  prove  this,  or  to  show  that  what- 
ever lionor  or  profit  may  have  been  claimed  by  the  Romish  Church 
anywhere  in  Europe  prior  to  the  Reformation,  undoubtedly  was 
fully  enjoyed  by  the  clergy  of  that  cluu-ch  in  England.  Hence  it 
wou'd  be  unreasonable  to  expect  that  an)"-  reformation  could  take 
jilace  in  that  kingdom  which  would  be  favorably  entertained  by  the 
great  body  of  the  clergy,  whatever  might  be  the  sentiments  of  par- 
ticular individuals.  ^Ve,  therefore,  are  not  surprised  to  find  that 
the  Reformation  was  forced  on  the  Church  in  England  by  the  king 
and  his  courtier  nobles,  who  stripped  her  of  many  temporal  pos- 
sessions, reduced  her  spiritual  pretensions,  compelled  her  to 
renounce  the  pope,  and  to  recognize  the  king  and  his  successors 
to  be  the  liead  of  the  English  Chiurch.  Having  accomplished  this 
rougli  reformation,  tlie  crown  set  up  whatever  remained  of  the  old 
lldinish  Clnirrh  in  England  under  a  new  commission,  derived  from 
nrls  of  ]iarliamcnt,  as  tlie  English  or  Anglican  Church  :  Ecchsia 
An;:Uvana,  as  termed  in  the  first  acts  to  that  purpose. 

Hut  notwithstanding  this  reformation  of  the  English  Church,  our 
rc.iders  must  not  forget  that  the  improvements  of  Henry  VHI.  and 
f'f  Quocd  Elizabeth  were  made  upon  a  clergy  wlio  at  heart  were 
essentially  papists,  and  who  affectionately  regarded  all  those  doc- 
trinrs  and  practices  belonging  to  the  Church  of  Rome  which  so 
f-'rcatly  magnified  the  clerical  function  before  the  Reformation. 
And  as  liie  court  soon  discovered  how  useful  the  Church  would 
btcuinc  as  a  part  of  the  state  machinery,  the  clergy  were  soon  in- 
«-ii  P'-d  in  the  full  expression  of  any  doctrine,  or  the  enjoyment  of 
any  .iJvantagc  that  they  could  arrogate  to  themselves  and  their 
Ciicrtii,  which  did  not  interfere  with  the  regal  prerogative  as  its 


78  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [January, 

liead.  The  consequences  of  tliis  tacit  comiiacl  between  tlie  Church 
and  tlie  crown  liave  occasioned  some  perplexity  to  tliose  who  read 
English  history,  from  tiieir  not  distinctly  comprehending  that, 
though  the  state  considers  tlic  Church  to  be  the  crcatiure  of  tlie 
state,  and  is  treated  as  such,  yel  that  the  Church  is  also  allowed 
by  the  slate  to  consider  herself  what  she  pleases,  and,  further  than 
this,  encourages  her  in  her  most  consequential  assumptions  by  an 
exclusive  state  protection.  To  gii-c  our  readers  a  proper  view  of 
this  subject,  we  wiVi.  first  show  the  Church  of  England  as  acting 
michccked  by  the  stale,  and,  secondly,  as  acting  under  the  control 
of  the  slate. 

To  show  to  what  extent  llic  clcryy  of  the  l^nglish  Church  have 
carried  their  spiritual  pretensions,  and  ihc  ingeiuiity  with  which 
they  have  arrogated  to  themselves  the  powers  of  the  Romish 
clergy,  we  will  avail  ourselves  of  a  few  extracts  from  the  masterly 
liand  of  Bishop  Hoadty,  who,  a  hundred  years  ago,  in  a  work 
ironically  dedicated  to  Pope  Clement  XI.,  thus  satirically  notices 
certain  arrogant  pretensions  of  the  English  Church,  though  justice 
compels  us  to  say  that  the  bishop's  satire  was  more  generally  in- 
tended. 

"  Your  holiness  is  not  aware  how  near  the  cliiircbes  of  US  Protest- 
ants have  at  length  come  to  tliosc  privilcfics  and  perfections  which 
you  boast  of  as  jieculiar  to  your  own  cluircli.  .  .  .  You  cannot  err  in 
any  thing  you  determine,  and  we  nevtr  do:  that  is,  in  one  word,  yotc 
are  infallible,  and  v:c  are  always  in  the  ri^ht.  We  cannot  hut  esteem 
the  advantage  to  be  cxceedinirly  (in  our  side  \n  tliis  case,  because  we 
have  all  the  benefits  of  infallitnliri/  widuun  the  absurdity  of  pretending 
to  it.  .  .  .  Authority  results  as  well  from  power  as  from  right,  and  a 
majority  of  votes  is  as  strong  a  foumlation  for  it  as  infallibility  itself. 
Councils  that  vini/  err,  never  do  ! ! 

"There  was  no  nniiner  of  nccissily  in  your  church  to  discard  the 
Scriptures  as  a  rule  of  faith  open  to  ali  Cllrl.^tians,  and  to  set  up  the 
church  in  distinction  to  them.  It  is  but  t:d;ins;  care,  in  some  of  our 
controversies,  to  lix  upon  the  laity  lh:il  llu-y  must  not  aliuse  this  ri^ht 
.of  reading  the  Scriptures  liy  pretciulin:;  to  bf  wiser  than  their  superi- 
ors, and  that  they  nuist  take  care  to  understand  particular  texts  as  the 
church  understands  them,  and  as  their  :'uiJi-s,  (the  clergy,)  who  have 
an  interpretative  a>:t!wrilij,  ex])l:iiu  tlii-m." 

"  Some  liave  changed  the  aulltoritntivc  ahsohttion  of  the  Romish 
Church  into  an  authoritative  intcrcefsinn  of  the  priest,  who  is  now  be- 
come, with  US,  a  mediator  between  find  and  man.  This  creates  the 
same  dependence  of  the  laity  upon  ilio  priests,  ;ind  sliows  how  dextrous 
we  are  in  changing  words,  ^vlll■n  there  is  occasion,  without  chan'dno- 
tilings  at  all." 


I  J,  11.1  Tracts  for  the  Times.  ,  79 

"  As  for  us  of  tlic  Clmrch  of  England,  we  have  bishops  in  a  suc- 
cession as  certainly  uninterrupted  Ironi  tlie  apostles  as  your  church 
could  conniuniicale  to  us  :  and  upon  this  bottom,  which  makes  US  a 
true  church,  we  have  a  right  to  separate  from  you,  but  no  persons  liv- 
iii,"  liavc  any  right  to  difl'er  or  separate  from  US.  .  .  .  Thus  we  have 
indit'd  left  you,  but  we  have  fixed  ourselves  in  your  seat,  and  make  no 
scruple  to  resemble  you  in  our  defenses  of  ourselves  and  censures  of 
oihiTs,  whenever  we  think  it  proper." 

Siicli  lias  been  the  proceeding  of  the  Clmrch  of  England  as  a 
corporation,  acting  as  she  pleased,  unchecked  by  the  state.  We 
sh.ill  now  show,  in  a  brief  manner,  how  she  has  acted  under  the 
direct  control  of  the  state. 

'J'he  hislorj'  of  England  shows  us  distinctl}'  that  the  Church  has 
ever  been  an  important  part  of  the  political  machinery  of  tliat 
country,  and  that  she  has  been  employed  in  every  agency  which 
llio  ci\'il  rulers  of  that  kingdom  have  been  engaged  in,  wlicther  for 
Coml  or  for  evil.  Hence  the  opinions  of  the  prelates  and  doctors 
of  the  English  Church  are,  to  a  great  extent,  directly  opposed  to 
0:10  another  upon  almost  all  the  great  questions  belonging  to  the 
interests  of  mankind.  At  one  period  of  English  history  they  are 
more  or  less  hostile  to  the  Church  of  Rome,  at  another  time  more 
or  1','ss  partial  to  her.  At  one  time  they  advocate  the  adoption  of 
iniiiciplos  more  or  less  favorable  to  civil  liberty,  and  at  another 
inne  ihey  vindicate  the  most  arbitrary  measures  of  the  crown. 
This  variety  of  principles  and  opinions  indicates  the  different  poli- 
tiral  clianges  which  took  place  in  the  civil  administrations  of  the 
ii'Aornincnt,  which  appointed  bishops  and  other  ecclesiastics  favor- 
iibic  ici  ihe  dcPi)otic  temper  of  the  court  when  the  times  encouraged 
liTljiir.irj-  princes,  or  again  as  being  favorable  to  the  liberty  of  the 
^■i''Jcct,  when  the  crown  was  compelled  to  regard  the  popular 
voice.  In  other  words,  according  to  the  various  contingencies 
y.\\-\rx  which  the  British  constitution  has  gradually  assiuned  its 
present  features,  so  we  shall  always  find,  with  but  one  important 
i\i-eplio!i,  which  we  shall  soon  advert  to,  that  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land echoed  tlic  opinions  maintained  by  the  court.  This  eminently 
Kcrvile  Ciiurch,  at  a  period  when  the  liberties  of  the  English  na- 
li"n  were  in  the  greatest  danger  from  the  assumptions  of  the  crown, 
pr.-.K-hcd  the  doctrine  of  passive  obedience  and  non-resistance  to 
l.;e  iiMirpatioiis  of  their  arbitrary  monarchs,  or,  as  it  is  compla- 
cciiily  staled  by  Dr.  South,  one  of  her  divines,  "  the  Church  of 


* 


60  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Janiian.^ 

England  is  the  only  church  in  Cliristendom  we  read  of,  tchose 
avowed  principles  and  practices  disown  all  resistance  of  the  ciiil 
poiver,  and  which  the  saddest  cxjicriciicc  and  ihc  truest  policj'  and 
reason  will  evince  (that  is,  to  the  crown)  to  be  ihc  only  one  which 
is  durably  consistent  with  the  English  monarchy." 

However,  the  great  favor  sliown  by  the  state  to  the  Church  of 
England  ultimately  gave  rise  to  some  mischievous  consequences, 
for  the  Church  being  of  divine  ajjpointment,  according  to  her  own 
continual  teaching,  and  being  recognized  and  protected  as  such  by 
the  state,  she  naturally  became  so  powerful  as  to  contend  with  the 
crowii  wlienevcr  this  last  attempted  aught  against  church  property 
or  privileges ;  so  that  King  James  II.,  in  calculating  on  the  doc- 
trines of  passive  obedience  and  non-resistance,  as  preached  by  the 
English  clcrgv',  soon  found,  by  his  expulsion  from  the  kingdom, 
that  what  the  Church  professed  and  what  the  Chmxh  did  belonged 
to  two  very  diflcrent  categories.  On  tlic  settlement  of  things  in 
England  under  King  William,  a  huge  wen  of  absurdities  was 
removed  from  the  Church  in  the  exclusion  of  the  non-juring  clergy, 
and  her  spiritual  health  nu'ght  have  been  much  improved  had  she 
adopted  the  good  Christian  doctrines  and  principles  brought  into 
lier  councils  by  Tillotson,  Hoadly,  Burnet,  &:c.  But  tlie  old  popish 
leaven  was  loo  strong  to  be  counteracted ;  the  Church  rejected  all 
attempts  for  improvement,  and  remained  the  same  as  ever,  so  that 
at  last  the  convocation  of  the  English  clergy,  A.  D.  1718,  was 
prorogued  by  the  royal  authority,  nor  have  they  ever  been  permitted 
to  transact  any  business  since  that  time,  the  court  having  found 
out,  by  the  experience  of  King  James  II.,  that  Dr.  South's  charac- 
ter of  the  Church  of  England  was  incorrect  when  he  affirmed  her 
to  be  "  a  church  not  born  into  the  world  irith  teeth  and  talons,  lihe 
j)opery  and  prcshytery,  but  like  a  lamb,  innocent,  and  defenceless, 
and  silent,  not  only  under  the  shearer,  but  under  the  butcher  too." 

From  our  previous  discourse  it  nuist  be  evident  how  it  happens 
that  the  Church  of  England,  though  ever  maintaining  sundry  old 
Romish  doctrines  with  pertinacity,  and  al  times  advocating  the 
most  slavish  submission  to  the  crown,  should  at  other  times,  by 
other  bishops  and  doctors,  also  maintain  doctrines  directly  the 
reverse,  so  that,  in  the  opinions  of  some  one  party  or  other  in  her 
communion,  wc  can  fu id  ahno>t  any  kind  of  doctrine  to  suit  the 
various  consciences  of  men.     If  wc  should  appeal  to  her  difierent 


ISll.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  81 

doctors  as  of  equal  authority  in  determining  controverted  points, 
wc  could  never  come  to  any  conclusion  upon  any  subject.  Tiie 
niMrost  approach,  therefore,  that  we  can  make  toward  ascertaining 
t!ic  real  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  England,  as  a  corporation,  will 
be  to  estimate  them  by  the  number,  not  by  the  worth  of  those  ad- 
vucaling  various  opinions.  Acting  upon  this  principle,  which,  by 
the  by,  is  the  manner  in  which  orthodoxy  is  generally  ascertained 
in  other  churches,  we  should  presume  it  to  be  undeniable  that  a 
majority  of  the  clergy  of  the  English  Church  have  ever  maintained 
an  amount  of  popish  doctrines,  from  popish  times,  suiEciently  jus- 
lifyijig  the  Oxford  Tracts  to  be  considered  as  an  exhibition  of  her 
corporate  faith  substantially  correct.  We  can,  from  an  early  period 
of  the  past  histor)'  of  the  English  Church,  perceive  more  or  less 
traces  of  similar  opinions,  and  more  or  less  explicit  avowal  of  them 
by  many  of  her  doctors,  even  in  times  when  the  Church  seemed 
to  bi;  most  inclined  toward  the  great  principles  of  the  Protestant 
cnmnuuiion. 

But  whatever  doubts  may  exist  as  to  the  past  attachments  of  the 
English  clergy  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  yet,  in  the 
favorable  reception  of  the  Oxford  Tracts,  no  one  can  doubl  that  a 
I'lrge  body  of  the  English  clergy  do  regret  the  Reformation,  and 
their  consequent  separation  from  Rome ;  and  they  would  submit 
to  as  great  humiliation  as  pride  could  submit  to,  would  it  procmre 
a  recognition  of  the  English  Church  from  the  pope  as  being  a  true 
brancii  of  the  Catholic  Church.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Trowde,  of  Oriel 
Culu-gc,  Oxford,  a  few  years  back  attempted  to  ascertain  the  prac- 
tif:ibiliiy  of  such  a  recognition,  but  failed,  from  the  uncompromising 
l'.'m]Hr  of  Romish  infallibility.  Another  attempt  may  be  more 
successful. 

Tliough  v,-e  have  already  exceeded  the  space  we  had  anticipated 
would  be  suflicient  to  expose  the  unwaiTantable  assimiptions  of  the 
Oxford  Tracts,  yet  we  are  not  ready  to  close  our  observations  upon 
tho^c  writings.  These  Tracts  are  an  exposition  of  the  doctrines 
of  a  powcrfid  sect,  who,  as  sustained  by  the  government  of  a  great 
kingdom,  have  had  a  great  influence  in  the  moral  and  intellectual 
world.  There  are  some  very  serious  considerations  involved  in 
the  liistory  of  the  influence  of  the  Church  of  England,  as  bearing 
»ip"n  the  general  history  of  Cliristianity,  and  which  have  a  much 
closer  connection  with  the  O.xford  Tracts  than  their  writers  could 


62  Tracts  for  the  Times,  [January, 

liave  ever  anticipated.  We  tlicrcfore  request  our  readers  will  bear 
witli  us  a  little  while  longer. 

Notwithstanding  the  promise  of  Christ  that  the  gates  of  hades 
t-hould  not  prevail  against  bis  church,  and  notwithstanding  his  pro- 
mise to  be  with  that  church  until  tlic  end  of  the  v.'orld,  yet  he 
never  taught  his  followers  to  expect  that  his  kingdom  should  be 
established  after  the  model  of  any  of  the  things  of  this  world,  nor 
did  he  ever  teach  them  to  expect  tJtcij  should  cease  to  have  trihit- 
lation  in  this  world,  though  he  told  thcrn,  in  the  verj-  same  verse, 
"  to  be  of  good  cheer,  for  that  he  had  overcome  the  world,"  John 
xvi,  33. 

In  strict  confonnily  to  this  declarnlion,  wc  learn  from  various 
passages  of  the  book  of  Revelation,  that  the  saints,  certainly  the 
true  followers  of  Jesus  Christ,  arc  everywhere  represented  as  en- 
during afflictions,  persecutions,  and  death  :  see  Rev.  vi,  9,  10,  11 ; 
vii,  13,  14;  xiii,  7;  xvi,  6;  xviii,  0,  cVc.  Nor  is  there  any  entire 
deliverance  intimated  to  them  until  after  the  downfall  of  anticlirist 
and  the  mystical  Babylonian  harlot.  Both  of  these  events,  all 
Protestant  commentators  of  any  reputation  consider,  are  yet  to  be 
fulfilled.  But  among  all  tlic  various  exhiljitions  of  the  apocalyptic 
vision,  of  the  various  metaphorical  bea.sts  that  should  exercise  do- 
minion on  the  earth,  and  amid  all  the  varieties  of  human  operation 
there  deliueated,  botli  as  acting  and  as  sulfering,  there  is  no  sym- 
bol that  exhibits  the  tnie  church  of  Christ  as  having  corporate  ex- 
istence, nor  any  corporate  agency  in  the  transactions  of  these 
anticipated  events  of  future  Christian  liistory.* 

But  if  Christ  liad  given  a  corporate  existence  to  his  church,  like 
what  the  Oxford  divines  have  claimed  for  it,  and  which  had  the 

*  But  though  there  is  no  church  of  Christ  roprcsentej  in  llie  apocalypse  ex- 
isting as  a  visible  corporate  body,  yet,  us  if  in  express  confutation  of  any 
hypothesis  on  the  subject,  or  on  that  syslcniatic  unit)/  which  is  so  much  ex- 
tolled by  the  Oxford  and  other  liigh  church  divines  as  essential  to  the  very 
being  of  a  true  church,  we  find  that  liro  <citiicsse.t,  clothed  in  sackcloth,  (Rev. 
xi,  1-13,)  were  revealed  to  St.  John  as  Gad's  witnesses  for  religious  truth 
during  the  long  dmiiination  of  the  Roniisli  beast,  of  which  we  shall  presently 
speak.  According  to  all  late  Protestant  comincnt.ators  deserving  attention, 
these  two  witnesses  are  the  two  chiirrhrs  of  the  Waldenses  and  Albigenses  ; 
and  the  most  able  work  proving  this  is  a  volume  recently  published  by  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Fabcr,  an  Englisli  clergyman  of  the  E.slablibhment,  and  entitled,  "  The 
Ancient  Valleases  and  .Mbigcnscs." 


]t\l.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  83 

promise  of  his  presence  imtil  tlic  end  of  ihc  world,  ouglit  we  not 
to  expect  lliat  the  corporate  existence  and  corporate  agencies  of 
tins  cliurcli  would  be  recognized  in  a  volume  addressed  to  Chris- 
tians, professedly  treating  of  future  things,  and  alone  interesting  to 
them  as  being  members  of  the  body  of  Christ  1  If  this  non-recog- 
niliiiii  of  a  visible  church  in  the  book  of  Revelation  is  not  sufHcicnt 
to  aultiorize  us  to  reject  such  an  hypothesis,  let  us  try  what  the 
theory  is  worth  imder  a  discussion  of  the  allirmativc  proposition, 
that  Christ  did  establish  a  visible  corporate  church.  Now  if  this 
be  true,  the  Chiurch  of  Rome  is  the  only  one  that  can,  from  her 
great  antiquity,  advance  even  the  shadow  of  a  claim  to  be  that  true 
church.  Yet  most  assuredly  the  Church  of  Rome  cannot  be  the 
cliurch  of  Clrrist,  for  she  is  plainly  set  forth  as  "  a  Jiarlot,  dnnik 
with  the  Uood  of  tJic  saints,  and  with  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  of 
Jesus"  Rev.  xvii,  4,  G,  18.  It  is  impossible  to  doubt  who  this 
emblematical  harlot  represents,  when  we  have  been  expressly  told, 
"slic  is  that  great  city  which  reignelh  over  the  lungs  of  the  earth." 
It  is,  therefore,  clear,  at  least  to  every  Protestant,  that  the  Church 
of  Rome  caiuiot  be  the  visible  church  of  Christ,  for  she  is  repre- 
sented to  have  ijcrsecuted  the  saints  and  martjTs  of  Jesus. 
These  saints  and  martjTS,  therefore,  were  external  to  the  Church 
of  Rome ;  and  as  being  so,  to  what  visible  church  are  they  to  be 
rcfencd  ? 

If  wc  should  take  up  the  whimsical  claim  of  the  Chmch  of  Eng- 
lantl  to  tliis  lienor,  even  under  the  grossest  impropriet}'  in  the  use 
<'f  tropical  figures  as  considering  her  the  virtuous  daughter  of  a 
ilniiikcii,  profligate  harlot,  the  claim  cannot  be  sustained  for  a  nio- 
inriii,  for  where  was  the  true  church  of  Christ  from  the  times  of 
iLi-  apostles  until  A.  D.  1533,  when  llenrj'  VIII.  fomided  the 
<'.'iurch  of  England  ?  The  absm-dity  of  the  supposition  requires 
no  ronunent,  and  the  words  of  Clirist,  promising  to  be  with  the 
rlnirch  to  the  end  of  the  world,  must  be  understood  to  contemplate 
!i  fulllhncnl  eniirely  different  from  the  one  assumed  by  the  Church 
«'!  Rome  in  the  first  place,  or  by  the  Oxford  Tracts  in  the  second, 
lui'lor  their  slight  modification  of  the  popish  theorj'. 

13ut  if  wc  have  been  unable  to  discover  that  visible  church, 
'^r  ecclesiastical  corporation,  to  which  belonged  the  persecuted 
^<'inis  and  martyrs  of  tlie  apocal}'ptic  vision,  there  is  a  good 
ho}>c  that  wc  may  be  able  to  ascertain  tlie  visible  churches  to 


64  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Januaiy, 

toJiich  they  did  not  hckmg,  and  by  doing  tliis  who  can  tell  what 
liglit  may  follow  the  exhibition  of  sucli  ncyitivc  proof?  We  shall, 
therefore,  proceed  to  the  invcsligation  of  tliis  matter. 

St.  John,  in  the  ihirlecnlh  chapter  of  the  apocalypse,  sa3's,  be- 
tween the  fu-st  and  seventh  verses,  that  he  saw  rising  out  of  the 
sea  a  great  beast,  whose  peculiar  character  as  being  essential  to 
our  couunentar}'  we  shall  give  in  his  own  words  : — 

"  1.  And  I  stood  upon  iho  snnd  of  the  sea,  and  saw  a  beast  rise  up 
out  of  the  sea,  having  seven  heads  and  ton  liorns,  and  upon  his  horns 
ten  crowns,  and  upon  his  heads  the  name  uf  hlnsphoniy. 

"2.  And  the  beast  which  I  saw  was  hkc  unlo  a  leopard,  and  his 
feet  were  as  the  feet  of  a  lioar,  and  his  mouth  as  the  mouth  of  a  lion, 
and  the  dra^ron  gave  him  his  power,  and  lii^;  scat,  and  great  authority. 

"3.  And  I  saw  one  of  his  lioads  as  it  were  wounded  to  death,  and 
his  deadly  wound  was  liealed,  and  all  the  world  wondered  after  the 
beast. 

"4.  And  they  worshiped  the  dranon  which  gave  power  unto  the 
beast :  and  they  worshi|)cd  the  licast,  saying,  Who  is  like  unto  the 
beast?  who  is  able  to  make  war  with  him  ? 

"5.  And  there  was  given  unto  him  a  mouth  speaking  great  things 
and  blasphemies,  and  power  was  given  unto  him  to  continue  forty  and 
two  months. 

"  6.  And  ho  opened  his  mouth  in  blasphemy  against  God,  to 
blaspheme  his  name,  and  liis  tabcrnaile,  and  them  that  dwell  in 
heaven. 

"  7.  And  it  was  given  unto  him  to  make  war  with  the  saints,  and 
to  overcome  them;  and  power  was  given  him  over  all  kindreds,  and 
tongues,  and  nations." 

The  eighth,  ninth,  and  tenth  verses,  being  uuimporlant  to  our 
exposition,  are  omitted. 

According  to  all  Protestant  coinincnlalors  of  any  value  this  sjin- 
bolic  beast  represents  western  Christendom  in  that  ecclesiastico- 
political  condition  resulting  from  po)ii.~h  iiijlucnccs,  which  brought 
the  kingdoms  of  Em-opc  into  an  absolute  submission  to  the  papal 
authority,  and  which,  as  the  soul  of  llie  system,  gives  her  peculiar 
character  to  the  entire  confederacy.  The  Rom.ish  Church,  as 
having  the  entire  control  of  things  both  temporal  and  spiritual,  is 
considered  to  have  absorlicd  the  kingilonis  of  Europe  into  her  cor- 
poricty,  and  this  papal  condition  of  lhin!:s  is  represented  in  the 
apocalypse  by  a  spnbolic  beast,  whose  various  heads  and  horns 
show  plainly  its  compounded  nature. 

But  after  St.  John  had  described  this  great  beast,  he  next  in- 
forms us,  between  the  eleventh  and  eighteenth  verses  of  the  same 


1S41.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  85 

cliaplcr,  tliat  he  saw  another  beast  coming  up  out  of  the  earth, 
wliobc  pccuharilics  we  must  also  ex]iibit  iii  the  descriptive  language 
of  the  vision.  Rev.  xiii,  11,  &c. 

'■11.  And  I  beheld  another  beast  coming  up  out  of  the  earth;  and 
lie  had  mo  horns  like  a  lamb,  and  he  spake  as  a  dragon. 

'•  V2.  And  he  cxcrciscth  all  ihe  power  of  the  frsl  beast  Itfore  him,  and 
cin:.u  ih  the  earth  and  than  that  dicdl  therein  to  worship  the  first  beast, 
xrhiisc  Jcndlij  xround  teas  healed. 

'•  1  J.  .\nd  he  doelh  great  wonders,  so  that  he  maketh  fire  come  down 
from  heaven  on  the  earth  in  the  .-sight  of  men  : 

"  11.  And  dcceiveth  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth  by  the  means  of 
these  miracles  which  he  had  power  to  do  in  the  sight  of  the  bea.st, 
saying  to  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  that  they  should  make  an  image 
to  the  beast  mhich  had  the  wound  by  a  sword  and  did  live. 

"  15.  .\nd  he  had  power  to  give  hie  unto  the  image  of  the  beast,  that 
the  image  of  the  beast  should  both  speak,  and  cause  that  as  many  as 
xoitild  nut  worship  the  image  of  the  beast  should  be  hilled. 

"  10.  And  ho  causeth  all,  both  small  and  great,  rich  and  poor,  free 
and  bond,  to  receive  a  mark  in  their  right  hand,  or  in  their  foreheads  ; 

"  17.  And  that  no  man  might  buy  or  sell,  save  he  that  had  the  mark, 
or  the  name  of  the  beast,  or  the  number  of  his  name." 

The  identification  of  this  latter  or  two-horned  beast  -with  its  anti- 
type has  hitherto  been  uusucce.-sful.  Commentators  on  the  apo- 
calypse not  only  differ  considerably  among  themselves  on  the  sub- 
ject, but  their  solutions  liave  depended  upon  vaiying  the  proprieties 
observed  everywhere  else  in  the  interpretation  of  the  symbohc 
figures  employed  by  the  prophets  who  have  thus  tropically  inti- 
mated to  us  the  existence  of  futiu-e  things.  We  therefore  sh;Jl 
take  that  course  which  reason  itself  suggests  to  us,  namely,  that 
wiicrc  symbols  or  figiu-cs  have  been  used  to  represent  particular 
Mail's  of  things,  so  wc  must  consider  the  employment  of  similar 
symbols  to  indicate  analogous  conditions  of  things  throughout  the 
whole  writings  of  llic  same  prophets. 

l:pon  the  principle,  therefore,  that  as  the  beast  with  seven  lieads 
and  ten  horns  represents  a  politico-ecclesiastical  combination  of  ten 
kingdoms  under  papal  domination,  so  the  evident  analogy  of  a  beast 
with  one  head  and  two  horns  cannot  but  suggest  to  us  the  existence 
"f  a  ])olitico-ccclesiastical  constitution,  characterized  by  the  pecu- 
h.irity  of  its  being  composed  of  two  kingdoms  united  together  in 
one  common  government,  which  is  indicated  in  the  vision  by  the 
cirriiinsiance  of  the  two  horns  being  on  one  head.  This  view  is 
tliriTtly  .su.siained  by  the  explanation  made  to  the  prophet  Daniel 

Vol.  I.— 6 


86  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [Januar)-, 

concerning  tlie  ram  luith  two  horns  seen  liy  him  in  a  vision,  (Dan. 
viii,  3,)  and  which  an  angel  of  God  informed  him  indicated  the 
Persian  empire,  as  the  nnilcd  kingdom  of  Media  and  Persia. 

Being,  therefore,  justified  in  our  notion  that  the  Uvo-homcd 
beast  of  tlie  apocalypse  sj'inbolizcs  a  poHtico-ecclesiaslical  state 
existing  in  the  combination  of  two  kingdom.'?  under  one  crown,  our 
next  attempt  will  be  to  ascertain  what  kingdom  does  this  s^^nbolic 
beast  represent.  It  may  abridge  our  rescai'ches  on  this  subject  to 
keep  in  mind,  that  as  the  scvcn-headod  tfn-horncd  beast  is  undeni- 
ably tlic  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  her  state  of  domination,  so  the 
two-horned  beast,  by  St.  John's  descrii)tion,  must  be  a  politieo- 
ecclesiastiral  stale  which  glorifies  the  Romish  Church,  (Rev.  .\iii, 
12,)  which  has  erected  an  image  resembling  the  Romish  Church, 
wlio  persecutes  those  who  refiise  to  worship  that  image,  and  who 
allows  no  civil  privileges  but  to  those  who  do  honor  that  image 

We  next  defy  any  one  who  is  not  predetermined  not  to  see  to 
avoid  coming  to  the  conclusion,  tlial  the  beast  with  two  horns  re- 
presents Great  Britain  in  a  polilico-eccle.-iastical  attitude,  that  is, 
a  compound  of  the  two  kingdoms  of  Scotland  and  England,  which 
have,  in  tlieir  conmion  parliamentary  legislation,  perfected  that 
image  of  the  Romish  Church,  the  Chikcii  of  Engl.^nd  ;  whicli 
they  have  established  by  test  and  corporation  acts  so  omnipotent 
in  the  government  of  the  kingdom,  that,  in  the  language  of  the  pro- 
phecy, "  all,  both  small  and  great,  rich  and  poor,  free  and  bond, 
received  a  mark  in  their  right  iiand  or  in  their  foreheads,  that  no 
man  might  buy  or  sell,  snvr  hi'  that  huJ  ihc  marl;,  or  the  name  of  I 

the  beast,  or  the  number  of  his  name.'"  I 

We  cannot  conceive  how  any  one  can  be  embarrassed  with  any  | 

misgivings  as   to  the  correctness  of  our  application  of  thi.s   pro-  | 

phecy,  unless  they  might  suj)pose  that  the  British  government  is  I 

based  on  the  three,  kingdoms  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland.  \ 

But  such  a  notion  is  altogether  fanciful.     Ireland  has  never  been  | 

but  an  appendage   to  England,  as  a  conntr}'  conquered  by  her.  | 

Ireland  never  had  any  voice  in  the  British  parlianient  until  A.  D.  « 

1800,  when  a  union  was  established  between  them,  under  the  title  ' 

*  This  ingenious  speculation  of  our  Icnrned  concspondrnt  is  \voilhv  of  the  ! 

most  serious  and  careful  consiilcmtion.     J5ut  uliilc  wc  commend  it  to  the  can-  | 

did  reader  as  well  -vvorthy  of  ji'iticnt  invcsu^-alioii,  ice  must  not  bo  considered  I 

as  pledged  for  its  defense. — En.  3 

6»  I 


1841.]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  87 

of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  The  ram 
of  Daniel's  vision,  to  which  we  have  previously  refen-cd,  again  fur- 
nishes us  with  a  parallel  exhibition,  for  it  represents  the  Persian 
kingdom  as  composed  of  the  two  pnncipal  kingdoms  of  Media 
and  Persia,  and  takes  no  notice  of  Babylonia,  or  of  any  other 
kin^ddm  or  nation  subject  to  the  Persian  empire. 

We  have,  however,  another  statement  to  make  on  this  point. 
\n  the  nineteenth  chapter  of  Revelation,  after  describing  the  war 
made  by  H.iM  who  rode  on  a  white  horse  against  the  seven-headed 
tcii-homcd  beast,  aided  by  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  which  ter- 
minates in  the  utter  discomfiture  of  the  beast  and  his  allies,  it  is 
there  stated,  at  the  twentieth  verse,  that  the  seven-headed  beast 
was  taken,  "  and  with  him  the  false  prophet  that  wrought  miracles 
before  him,  with  wliich  he  deceived  them  that  had  received  the 
mark  of  the  beast,  and  them  that  worshiped  his  image." 

Xow  I'rom  tliis  latter -statement  we  perceive  distinctly  that  the 
b;asl  with  two  horns,  described  in  Rev.  .\iii,  is  here  called  the 
firkr  prophet,  for  the  twentieth  verse  of  the  nineteenth  chapter 
n)in\itc]y  repeats  a  part  of  the  character  of  the  two-homed  beast, 
as  expressed  in  the  fourteenth  verse  of  the  thutccnth  cliapter.  The 
identity  of  the  two,  therefore,  is  imdeniable.*  This  change  of  ap- 
jiellation,  therefore,  to  false  prophet,  must  indicate  some  marked 
peculiarity  in  the  two-horned  beast  by  which  this  term  becomes 
appropriate.  And  we  must  confess  oiu:  previous  reference  of  tlie 
British  ecclesiastical  estabhshment  to  the  two-horned  beast  is  alto- 
gctlicr  mijuKtifiable  if  we  are  unable  to  vindicate  tlic  application  of 
'he  term  "false  prophet"  to  that  ecclesiastical  establishment.  In 
order  to  understand  this  matter  distinctly,  we  must  go  back  once 
iiuMC  to  tlic  origin  of  the  Church  of  England. 

At  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  and  for  many  )-ears  after,  the 
K-.-timony  of  the  English  Church  was  distinctly  given  to  the  world 
that  the  Church  of  Rome  was  the  antichrist  of  the  Scriptures,  and, 

"  Sonic  persons,  from  a  careless  view  of  the  book  of  Revelation,  have  siip- 
I'OKcJ  iliat  the  false  prophet  designates  the  Urohammcdan  religion.  But  this 
i.-i  clearly  erroneous ;  for  <is  the  two-horned  beast  and  the  false  prophet  arc 
undeniably  the  same,  so  the  two-horned  beast  is  the  friend  and  ally  of  the 
H'Mnifh  beast.  But  IMohammedanisrn,  both  politically  and  theoloaically,  h.i« 
• » <-r  !w:cn  directly  hostile  to  the  papal  economy,  which  is  with  the  Mussehmiis 
-yr.<mymous  with  Christianity.  Therefore  Mohammedanism  cannot  be  "  the 
filsc  proplict." 


83  Tracts  for  the  Times.  [January, 

consistently  witli  such  a  doctrine,  she  assailed  the  peculiarities  of 
the  Romish  faith,  in  common  witli  all  otlii;r  Protestant  churches ; 
and  there  are  no  arguments  more  powerful  and  convincing  against 
the  popish  system  than  arc  to  ho  found  in  the  writings  and  sermons 
of  many  of  the  English  clergy  of  the  sixtccntli  and  earlier  part  of 
the  seventeenth  centuries.  It  was  in  this  great  principle  that  the 
Church  of  Rome  was  the  ]\Ian  of  sin  and  antichrist,  that  they  vin- 
dicated their  separation  from  that  church.  Tiieir  cry  then  was 
continually,  "  Come  out  of  iier,  my  people,  that  ye  be  not  partakers 
of  her  sins,  and  that  yc  receive  not  of  her  plagues,"  Rev.  xvii,  4. 
In  harmony  with  this  doctrine,  tlic  Church  of  England  sympathized 
deeply  in  the  tribulations  of  their  Protestant  brethren  throughout 
Europe.  They  recognized  their  churches  to  be  branches  of  the 
true  church  of  Christ,  and  they  e\tendcd  the  hand  of  fellowship  to 
their  ministers  and  preachers.  Dut  in  process  of  time  things  were 
changed.  The  episcopal  constitvition  of*  the  Church  of  England, 
which  at  first  v/as  pure  Erastiuni.sin,  and  was  chiefly  vindicated  on 
the  gi-ound  of  being  more  conformable  to  prhuitive  usages  than  an}' 
other  system,  gradually  laid  claim  to  apostolic  succession,  the 
result  of  which  was,  that  after  much  angry  contention  on  the  sub- 
ject, she  cut  off  the  dissenters  ujion  her  own  soil  as  schismatics, 
and  out  of  the  pale  of  the  true  church  of  Christ.  But  after  the 
Church  of  England  had  thus  renounced  the  Puritans  and  dissent- 
ers, it  became  impossible,  mider  her  tlieory  of  apostolical  succes- 
sion, to  hold  brotheriy  comiinniioii  with  any  other  Protestant 
churches  out  of  England,  none  of  wlioni  either  had  episcopal  ordi- 
nation, or  regarded  it  as  being  any  wise  csscntiid  to  their  ecclesi- 
astical ministrations.  The  C'lnuch  of  England,  therefore,  as  a 
corporation,  began  at  an  early  jjeriod  to  stand  aloof  from  the  entire 
body  of  Protestants  in  Christendom.  She  ultimately  withdrew 
from  them  altogetlier,  and  has  concerned  herself  little  about  them 
luilcss  when  it  might  be  convenient  to  Cjiiote  their  ill  treatment  by 
the  papists  as  justifying  her  own  ]iersonal  quarrel  with  the  Church 
of  Rome  concerning  the  Irish  tithes  and  livings. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  English  Church  withdrew  from  the 
Protestant  conuuunion  she  adopted  many  of  the  old  popish  notions 
that  the  first  reformers  lind  rejected  ;  gradually  she  began  to  sym- 
pathize with  Home  by  juslifying  certain  of  her  practices,  and  imi- 
tating her  in  others  ;  and  finally  she  recognized  Rome  to  be  a  tnic 


IR-J].]  Tracts  for  the  Times.  89 

chiircli,  tlioiigli  coiTupl  in  some  particulars.  Accordingly,  popish 
jjricsts,  if  Uicy  embrace  the  doclTincs  of  the  Clatrch  of  England, 
lire  at  once  received  into  her  communion  on  the  strength  of  tlieir 
po])ish  ordination  ;  but  all  Protestant  ministers,  without  distinction, 
ojH'iily  declared  to  be  schismatics  from  the  church  of  Christ,  are 
oljlii^cd  to  be  rcordained  if  they  sliould  seek  admission  into  the  bcily 
of  ]']nglish  clcrg)'. 

If,  therefore,  the  Church  of  Rome  be  the  man  of  sin  and  the 
antichrist,  the,  preceding  facts  show  most  distinctly  how  the  term 
false  jrrophet  attaches  to  the  Church  of  England.  She  began  by 
jiroplicsying,  i.  e.,  preaching,  (for  the  words  arc  synonymous,)  in 
behalf  of  the  great  principles  of  Protestantism,  and  she  has  changed 
her  practice  from  preaching  or  prophesying  those  principles  into 
<mc  directly  the  reverse.  She  no  longer  treats  Rome  as  the  anti- 
rhrist,  but  has  become  her  sympathizer  and  apologist,  as  far  as 
lliis  could  be  done  consistently  with  her  -vvcll  known  origin  ;  and 
die  0.\ford  divines  and  their  many  advocates  are  manifestly  seek- 
ing a  still  further  conformity  with  Rome  in  so  many  particulars, 
that  the  popular  mind  in  England  is  disturbed,  not  knowing  what 
is  to  be  the  end  of  all  the  machiner}-  now  set  at  work  by  them  and 
their  adherents. 

Though  anj'  person  acquainted  wilh  the  history  of  the  Church 
of  England  can  have  little  doubt  of  the  truth  of  this  exposition  of 
her  want  of  conformity  as  a  corporation  to  the  great  doctrines  of 
Protestantism,  yd  we  are  not  sorry  that  wo  can  chspense  with  the 
!:il)nr  of  proving  it,  for  the  Oxford  divines,  in  Tract  No.  71,  or 
\i>!.  iii,  p.  27,  unhesitatingly  afSnn  that  the  Church  of  Enghnid  is 
uni  (I  Protestant  Church.  This  statement,  which  directly  csia- 
i)!i.<hrs  our  llicoiy  why  she  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  false  propJict 
>  f  the  apocalyj)se,  we  shall  now  lay  before  the  reader  :— 

'•  And  siirb  asain,"  say  the  Oxford  Tracts,  as  rbove  quoted,  "  is  tlic 
rnstchirvons  error;  in  vJiich  tlic  Church  in  her  formal  documents  certainh/ 
has  ),o  share,  that  we  are  hut  one  among  inany  Protestant  bodies,  and  tlitit 
iiM  .lillVrciiccs  l)ct\vcen  Protestants  are  of  Httle  consequence  ;  whereas, 
TMi:  English  Churcit,  as  such,  is  not  Proti:staxt,  only  politically, 
1-  (* .  fxtrrnnlly,  or  so  far  as  it  has  hr-rn  made  an  establishment,  and 
M!  ijccicd  to  national  and  foreign  influences.  It  claims  to  be  merely 
I'l-nnrd,  not  Photcstan-t;  and  it  repudiates  am/  fellowship  with  the 
■hiri.t  multitude  which  crowd  together,  lehclher  at  home  or  abroad,  under  a 
■''''"  /""'''"•"'  banner,''  (i.  e.,  with  all  other  Protestants.)  "  That  this  is 
nj  licit  I  doctrine  is  plain  from  the  emphatic  omission  of  the  word  Pko- 


90  Tracts  fur  the  Times.  [Januar}-, 

TESTANT  in  all  our  service's ;  even  in  that  for  tlio  fifth  of  Novembor,  as 
remodeled  171  the  reign  of  King  ]\'iUiain,  mid  again  from  the  protest  of 
the  Lower  House  of  Convocation'  at  that  dale,  on  this  very  subject, 
which  wouhl  have  had  no  force,  except  as  proceeding  upon  recog- 
nized usages.  The  circumslance  here  alhiilrd  to  was  as  follows  : — 
In  A.  D.  16S9,  the  Lijiijcr  House  of  CVnnociiKin  agreed  on  an  address 
to  King  AViUiani,  to  thauk  liiui  '  lor  the  graci'  and  ooodness  expressed 
in  his  message,  and  the  zl:i1  slmwu  in  it  for  0.:r  l\olcstant  religion  in 
general,  and  the  Church  of  Dnudaud  in  pariii  iilar.'  To  lllis  phrase" 
(the  one  in  italics)  "  the  Lov>-er  llou^e  olijccu-d,  as  importing,  as  Birch 
in  his  Life  of  Tillotson  says,  llirir  uiming  common  union  tcith  the 
foreign  Protestants.  A  conl'i  rcnce  liulwccn  the  two  houses  ensued, 
when  the  bishops  supporti'd  their  wording  of  the  address  on  the  ground 
that  the  Protestant  religion  was  the  known  denomination  of  the  common 
doctrine  of  siirh  parts  of  the  nrst  as  had  srjiaratcd  from  Rome.  The 
liOwer  House  proposed,  with  oilier  alteralions  of  the  passage,  the 
words,  '  Protestant  chuvdu  s"  f.r  '  I'rolestant  religion,'  being  nnwilhng 
to  acknowledge  religion  as  s'  jrirale  fruin  llie  Cluireh,"  (i.e.,  the  Church 
of  England.)  "The  Upper  House,  in  luni,  ann-nd.d  this, — '  the  interest 
of  the'' Protestant  religiun  in  this"  "  (i.  r.,  llie  Church  of  England,)  "  '  and 
all  other  Protestant  churches;'  but  the  J.owcr  House,  stiir/ealous  of  am/ 
diminution  of  the  English  Churrl,  l,j  lt),x  ro,„j,anson  with  foreign  Pro- 
testants, l)ersisted  in  their  npno-.iliiiM,  and  !;aincd  at  length  that  the 
address,  after  thankhig  the  kinu  I.t  ins  zral  lor  the  Church  of  England. 
should  proceed  to  aniicip-iie  ili  ■!  thi  r>  by  the  interest  of  the  Protestant 
religion  in  (not  this,  and,  bm)  all  other  I'rnti'slant  churches  v.'ould  be 
belter  secured.  Birch  adds,  ' 'j'he  king  w(dl  midcrstood  whv  this  ad- 
dress omitted  the  thanks  which  the  bi.^hops  h  id  recommended,  for 

the  zeal  which  he  had  shown  for  the  Prolesiant  religion  ;  and  wh:/ 
there  was  no  txpre.tsiun  of  t( nderne.'-'S  to  the  dissenters,  and  but  a  cool 
regard  to  the  Protestant  churches.'  " 

Surely,  if  there  is  any  moaning  in  \sorcls,  \\c  can  come  to  no 
other  conclusion  tliau  that  the  nhove  o.ttraet,  Avhcther  as  relates  to 
the  transaction  ilseif,  in  King  WiHinurs  days,  A.  D.  16S9,  or  in 
its  concinrciit  adoption  at  llic  jiri-.-^eiit  lime  by  tlic  Oxford  divines, 
fully  justifies  our  view  tlial  llic  I'rilisli  Church  and  slalc,  first  sym- 
bolized in  the  ajiocalypse  as  ihc  tvu-liorncd  beast,  is  coiTectly 
rejjresented,  in  tb.e  srcoiut  jduce,  as  tlie  fihr  jiroplict ;  and  in  thus 
sliowing  the  identity  of  bolh  symbols  with  tlie  same  antitype,  who 
can  doubt  the  accuracy  of  our  whole  c.xpo.sitiou  of  this  part  of  tlic 

*  Tlic  ccclctiasticul  asscinljly  of  llie  Ciiiircli  of  England  is  called  the  Con- 
vocation. It  consists  of  two  liodii'.",  or  linescs  ;  the  upper,  consisting  of  the 
bishops ;  and  the  lower,  of  a  rtrtaiu  ir.nnbcr  of  llie  inferior  clprgj-,  selected 
for  this  object  according  to  aiu-ir-m  rii-ioais  or  law^.  There  has  been  no  con- 
vocation of  the  English  clergy  for  buiuicss  since  A.  D.  1718. 


IS-ll.l  Tracts  fur  the  Tunes.  91 

apocalyptic  vision.  Tlie  subject,  however,  with  all  its  inferences, 
we  leave  to  the  serious  consideration  of  our  readers,  be  they  of  what 
deiioinijialioH  of  Christians  they  may. 

Our  idriiiitlcalion  of  the  Church  of  England,  arrayed  as  an  ally 
on  the  ."-ide  of  the  Romish-  beast  in  the  predicted  great  battle  of 
Armageddon,  unavoidably  leads  us  to  conclude  that  great  mystical 
event  canjiot  be  far  distant  from  its  fulfibuenl,  since  the  prcpara- 
torv-  movements  already  indicate  future  action.  Let  us  add  to  tins, 
iha!  the  Chmeh  of  Rome  is  now  actually  employed,  for  the  first 
lime,  in  the  active  emission  of  popular  tracts,  advocating,  with  all 
lier  plausibility,  the  peculiar  dogmas  and  superstitions  of  her  anti- 
chrislian  foundation.  The  Cinn-ch  of  England,  by  the  Oxford 
Tracts,  and  similar  productions,  is  zealously  engaged  in  a  similar 
work,  that  more  or  less  directly  justify  the  Romish  pretensions  as 
being  matters  of  common  interest.  At  the  same  lime  the  imnrc- 
iliate  servants  of  the  dragon,  the  Owens,  Famiy  Wrights,  and  such 
like,  by  the  jjublication  of  all  maimer  of  obscene  and  irreligious 
books,  arc  doing  all  they  can  to  oppose  the  influences  of  genuine 
Christianity.  Now,  are  these  triple  efforts  prefigitred  by  the  thir- 
teoiUh  and  fourteenth  verses  of  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Revelation? 
I-et  the  reader  judge  : — 

'•  lo.  And  I  saw  three  unclean  spirits  like  froys  come  ont  of  the 
moiiih  of  tlic  dragon,  and  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  beast,  and  out  of  the 
nioiilh  ot'  l/tc  false  prophet ; 

"  14.  For  tiiey  arc  the  spirits  of  devils  working  miracles,  which 
vo  forth  \iiito  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  of  the  whole  world,  to  gather 
!hfm  tfi  the  baltlo  of  that  great  day  of  God  Almighty. 

"  1*').  Anil  he  gathered  ihcm  together  into  a  place  called  i\i  the  Ile- 
I>r'-w  liiiiniio  Armageddon. 

'■  17.  .\iid  ihc  seventh  angel  poured  out  his  vial  into  the  air,  and 
lliorc  rar.io  a  great  voice  out  of  the  temple  of  heaven  from  the  throne, 
i'lyitiir.  It  i.s  done. 

"  lb.  And  there  were  voices,  and  thunders,  and  lightnings,  and  there 
was  a  great  earthquake,  such  as  was  not  since  men  were  upon  the 
earth,  so  mighty  an  eartliquake,  and  so  great." 

Christian  men  and  brethren  !  if  wc  arc  correct  in  these  views, 
are  you  aware  how  near  at  hand  these  things  are  ?  Most  com- 
meiiLitors  consider  i\\e  ffth  apocalyptic  vial  has  been  poured  out, 
(^vc-v.  xvi,  10,)  and  the  recent  commotions  in  Turkey,  Sp-ia,  and 
J-.;vr!,  t!io  wars  of  the  Russians  in  Caucasus  and  Central  Asia, 
the  Ihii.sh  invasion  of  AfTghanislan,  and  possibly  ere  this  of  the 


92  Hie  Rich  agaiiust  the  Poor.  [January, 

Chinese  empire,  will  fully  justify  us  to  suppose  the  effusion  of  the 
sixth  vial  "  upon  the  great  river  Euplnatcs"  has  already  com- 
menced.* If  this  be  so,  who  can  be  but  .'lartlcd  to  find  at  what 
age  of  the  ^vorld  we  ha\^e  arrived,  and  what  rn'o  the  mighty  things 
of  God  that  may  be  fulfilled  in  these  our  days !  "  Who  shall  not 
fear  thee,  0  Lord,  and  glorify  thy  name  ?  for  thou  only  ait  holy : 
for  all  nations  sliall  come  and  worship  before  thee ;  for  thy  judg- 
ments are  made  manifest !" 


AiiT.  Y. —  The  Rich  again^il  the  Poor.     The  lAiboring  Classes. 
By  O.  A.  ]3iu)W.NsoN. 

This  strange  production  first  made  its  appearance  in  the  Boston 
Quarterly  Review,  but  has  been  since  circulated  in  the  form  of  a 

pamphlet,  with  a  view,  no  doubt,  to  its  influence  upon  the  then  I 

pending  presidential  election.     As,  however,  this  political  struggle  | 

will  liave  been  over  before  tlicsc  strictures  will  make  their  appear-  | 

ance,  they  can  have  no  bearing  upon  tliat  agitating  question,  what-  I 

ever  may  be  their  cimrarler.     But  this  docs  not  supersede  the  I 

necessity  of  exposing  the  dangerous   doctrines   set  forth  in   the  | 

pamphlet  before  us.     They   are  of  a  general  character.     They  | 

strike  at  the  root  of  social  order.     Ai\d  the  main  principle  which  I 

the  author  aims  to  establish,  according  to  his  ovm  showing,  is  of  i 

such  a  startling  character  that  it  will  require  a  long  time  to  bring  3 

it  into  practical  operation.     He  docs  not,  indeed,  "  propose  this  as  | 
a  measure  for  the  immediate  action  of  the  community."     He  only               ■  | 

means  to  discuss  it  now,  with  a  view  to  prepare  the  public  mind  for  | 

its  full  development  and  for  final  and  decisive  action.     "\Miat  this  | 

main  principle  is  we  shall  sec  prcseiuly.  | 

The  following  are  tlie  principal  ))oints  which  our  author  seems  ^ 

to  think  arc  essential  to  accomiilish  his  oliject : —  J 

1.  That  jiropcrty  must  cease  to  be  hcredilaiy.  | 


"As  wc  linve  aholislied  horfiJilnry  nionarcliy,"  savs  he,  "and  here- 
ditary- nobility,  ^ve  must  complete  llio  work  by  abolishing  hcroditary 
property.  A  man  shall  line  all  he  lioncsily  ncqiiircs,  so  long  as  he 
himself  belongs  tu  the  worKl  in  wliich  lie  accjuircs  it.     Ijiit  his  power 

*  "  And  the  ■^:rtl,  nii-ol  ].ni!rr,l  oi.l^  li!s  vi;il  iipnn  iho  ffrc;it  river  Euphrates, 
and  the  n.itcr  ilicreol' wiis  (h'loij  up,  t;itit  tlic  way  of  the  kings  of  the  cast  might 
he  prepared,^'  Rev.  xvi,  \i. 


]S41.]  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  93 

over  liis  property  must  cease  with  his  life,  and  his  property  must  then 
bocoiiK'  ttie  property  of  the  stale,  to  be  disposed  of  by  some  eqiutable 
hw,  for  the  use  of  the  generation  which  takes  his  place." 

And  tills  is  so  essential  for  the  accomplisliment  of  his  object  that 
lie  adds — 

"  We  see  no  means  of  elevating  the  laboring  classes  which  can  be 
cfroclual  without  this." 

2.  The  laws  of  matrimony  must  be  abolished.  Tliis  preliminary 
slc])  to  the  consummation  of  his  wishes  is  so  contrarjr  to  the 
common  sentiments  of  civilized  society,  that  our  author,  with 
all  liis  boldness  of  thought,  seems  afraid  to  take  it  with  his  cus- 
tomary independence,  lest  he  might  shoot  so  far  ahead  of  the  public 
feeling  as  to  produce  a  shock  in  the  community,  and  tlicreby  defeat 
his  benevolent  plans  of  reform.  He  therefore  liints  at  this  rather 
oliscm-ely ;  yet  it  is  sufficiently  plain  not  to  be  misunderstood.  It 
is  to  be  one  of  the  rounds  in  the  ladder  on  which  he  is  to  ascend 
i!ic  throne  of  popular  dominion.  Speaking  of  the  iron  sceptre 
which  custom,  religion,  and  civilization  hold  over  the  freedom  of 
man,  he  saj's — 

"  lie  cannot  make  one  single  free  movement.  The  priest  holds  his 
coiT^cience,  fashion  controls  his  tastes,  and  society  with  her  forces  in- 
\n.lcs  the  ver}'  sanctuaiy  of  his  heart,  niid  takes  command  of  his  love, 
tliit  which  is  purest  and  best  in  his  nature,  which  alone  gives  reality 
to  his  existence,  and  from  which  proceeds  the  only  ray  which  pierces 
the  gloom  of  liis  prison-house." 

The  meaning  of  this  passage,  though  veiled  in  obscurity,  catmot 
well  be  misunderstood.  It  teaches,  as  an  indispensable  preliminary 
to  freedom  of  thought  and  action,  and  to  that  equality  of  condition 
f'lr  which  the  autlior  most  strenuously  pleads,  that  society  must  be 
lioki-n  loose  from  the  shackles  of  Avedlock,  that  instead  of  having 
love  centred  in  one  object,  it  may  roam  at  large,  and  mix  its  longings 
■Mnong  the  many  hearts  which  may,  each  in  its  turn,  solicit  its  wild 
:ii:d  iingovcmable  embrace.  This  is  freedom  froni  the  restraints 
I'f  llie  laws  of  matrimony.  This  is  turning  our  youth  loose  to  graze 
.';nd  lu.\uriatc  in  the  field  of  licentiousness,  and  to  choose  their 
pastures  as  the  lawless  instinct  of  their  natures  shall  dictate.  And 
to  enforce  this  wholesome  precept  Mr.  B.  says — 
_  "  li  is  not  strange,  then,  that  some  should  prefer  the  savage  state  to 
UiO  civi!i/.(;,l.  wjio  would  not  rather  roam  the  forest  with  a  free  step 
-jid  unshackled  limb,  though  exposed  to  hunger,  cold,  and  nakedness, 
i-ian  crouch  an  abject  slavB  beneath  the  whip  of  the  master  ?" 


94  'I'he  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

This  writer  seems  to  forget,  in  liis  eagerness  to  emancipate  the 
race  from  the  manacles  of  civihzation,  that  woman,  in  the  hands  of 
a  savage,  is  the  slave  of  a  brutal  appetite,  and  of  a  lordly,  lomiging 
despotism,  as  relentless  as  the  tiger,  and  as  lawless  in  its  rule  as 
the  ferocious  bear.  But  we  shall  have  occasion  to  recur  to  this 
topic  before  our  remarks  are  closed. 

3.  The  next  step  in  Jlr.  B.'s  race  of  reform  is  the  annihilation  of 
priests — the  utter  extermination  of  this  order  of  men  from  the  face 
of  the  earth.  Indeed,  tliis  seems  so  essential  for  the  consumma- 
tion of  his  grand  object,  that  he  dwells  upon  it  with  a  peculiar 
zest,  as  if  he  enjoyed  the  ple:i.surable  emotion  of  their  utter  annihi- 
lation by  anticipation.     Hear  liim  in  the  following  language  :— 

"  But,  having  traced  llic  iiicqwaliiy  wc  complain  of  to  its  origin,  we 
proceed  to  ask  again,  Wlmt  is  the  remedy  ?  The  remedy  is  lirst  to  be 
sought  in  the  destruction  of  the  prirsl.  We  are  not  mere  destructives. 
We  delight  not  in  pulling  down  ;  Inil  tlni  bad  must  be  removed  before 
the  good  can  be  introduced.  Conviction  and  repentance  precede  rege- 
neration. i\b)rcover,  we  arc  Christi-ms.  and  it  is  only  by  following 
out  the  Christian  l:nv,  and  the  example  of  the  carl)'  Christians,  that  we 
can  hope  to  effect  any  thing.  I'hri^iiaiiity  is  the  sublimest  protest 
against  the  ])rieslhond  ever  ullired,  and  a  protest  uttered  by  both  God 
and  man  ;  for  he  who  uiiered  it  v.-.is  Gud-man.  In  the  person  of  Jesus 
both  God  and  man  protest  against  lite  priesthood.  What  was  the  mis- 
sion of  Jesus  but  a  solemn  summons  of  every  priesthood  on  earth  to 
judgment,  and  of  the  human  race  to  freedom?  He  discomfited  the 
learned  doctors,  and  with  wliips  of  small  cords  drove  the  priests,  de- 
generated into  )ncre  mniicy-ehanjiers,  from  the  temple  of  God.  He 
instituted  himself  no  priesthood,  no  form  of  religious  worship.  Ho 
recognized  no.^priest  but  a  holy  life,  and  commanded  the  construction 
of  no  temple  but  that  of  the  pure  heart.  He  preached  no  formal  reli- 
gion, enjoined  no  creed,  sot  apart  no  day  for  religious  worship.  He 
preached  fraternal  love,  peace  on  earth,  and  good-will  to  men.  He 
came  to  the  soul  enslaved,  '  cabined,  cribbed,  confined,'  to  the  poor 
child  of  mortality,  boinid  hand  and  fool,  unable  to  move,  and  said,  in 
tlie  tones  of  a  tlod,  '  Lie  free  1  Ik;  cnbir^ed  !  i)e  there  room  for  thee  to 
grow,  expand,  and  overllow  v.illi  the  lovo  thou  wast  made  to  overflow 
witli !' 

"  In  the  name  of  Jc.'jus  wc  admit  there  has  been  a  priesthood  insti- 
tuted, and,  considerini;  how  the  world  went,  a  priesthood  could  not  but 
be  instituted  ;  hut  the  ndigion  of  Jesus  repudiates  it.  It  recognizes  no 
mediator  between  God  and  man  but  him  who  dies  on  the  cross  to 
redeem  man  ;  no  propitiation  lor  sin  but  a  pure  love,  which  rises  in  a 
living  flame  to  all  that  is  beautilul  and  good,  and  spreads  out  in  light 
and  warmth  for  all  the  chilled  and  henigiilcd  sons  of  mortality.  In 
calling  every  man  to  be  a  priest,  it  virtually  condemns  everj-  possible 
priesthood ;  and  in  recognizing  the  religion  of  the  new  covenant,  the 


lS-11.]  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  95 

reliijioii  wriiton  on  the  heart,  of  a  law  put  within  the  soul,  it  abolislies 
all  t'onniil  woiship. 

"  Till-  priest  is  universally  a  tyrant,  universally  the  enslaver  of  his 
hrcihrcii,  :iml  therefore  it  is  Christianity  condemns  him.  It  could  not 
prevent  tiie  rc-establishmcnt  of  a  hierarchy,  but  it  prepared  for  its  ulti- 
inalo  dolruetiou,  by  denying  the  inequality  of  blood,  by  representing 
all  nieji  as  cciual  before  (iod,  and  by  insisting  on  the  celibacy  of  the 
cl<'n;\-.  The  best  feature  of  the  church  was  in  its  denial  to  the  cleriTt- 
of  the  right  to  marr)-.  By  this  it  prevented  the  new  hierarchy  from 
beconiiu"  hereditary,  as  were  the  old  sacerdotal  corporations  of  India 
andJmle'a. 

"  We  object  to  no  religious  instruction  ;  wc  object  not  to  the  gather- 
ing together  of  the  people  on  one  day  in  seven,  to  sing  and  pray,  and 
li^ton  to  a  discourse  from  a  religious  teacher  ;  but  we  object  to  every 
thing  like  an  outward,  visible  church ;  to  every  thing  that  in  the  re- 
motest degree  partakes  of  the  priest.  A  priest  is  one  who  stands  as  a 
sort  of  mediator  between  God  and  man  ;  but  wc  have  one  mediator, 
Jesus  Christ,  who  gave  himself  a  ransom  for  all,  and  that  is  chougli. 
It  may  be  supposed  that  we,  Protestants,  have  no  priests  ;  but  fur  our- 
Sidve.s  we  know  no  fundamental  dillerence  between  a  Catholic  priest 
.and  a  Protestant  clergyman,  as  wo  know  no  difl'orence  of  any  magni- 
tude, in  relation  to  the  principles  on  whicli  they  arc  based,  between  a 
Prolesiaat  Church  and  the  Catholic  Church.  Eoth  are  based  upon  the 
principle  of  authority  ;  both  deny  in  fact,  however  it  may  be  in  man- 
ner, the  authority  of  reason,  and  war  against  freedom  of  mind  ;  both 
substitute  dead  works  for  true  righteousness,  a  vain  show  for  the  reality 
of  piety,  and  are  sustained  as  the  means  of  reconciling  us  to  God 
without  requiring  us  to  become  Godlike.  Both,  therefore,  ought  to  go 
by  the  board. 

'•  Wc  may  offend  in  what  we  say,  but  we  cannot  help  that.  We 
insist  upon  it,  that  the  complete  and  final  destruction  of  the  priestly 
order,  in  every  practical  sense  of  the  word  priest,  is  the  first  step  to  be 
taken  toward  elevating  the  laboring  classes.  Priests  are,  in  their 
c:ij)aeily  of  priest,  necessarily  enemies  to  freedom  and  equality.  All 
roa>oiiiug  demonstrates  this,  and  all  history  proves  it.  There  must  be 
no  elas^  of  men  set  apart  and  authorized,  cither  by  law  or  fashion,  to 
f.peak  to  us  in  the  name  of  God,  or  to  bo  interpreters  of  the  word  of 
CioJ.  The  word  of  God  never  drops  from  the  priest's  lips.  lie  who 
ledeemed  man  did  not  spring  from  the  priestly  class,  for  it  is  evident 
that  our  Lord  sprang  out  of  Judah,  of  which  tribe  Moses  spake  nothing 
concerning  the  priesthood.  ^Vho,  in  fact,  were  the  authors  of  the 
Bible,  the  book  which  Christendom  professes  to  receive  as  the  word 
of  (-.od  ?  The  priests  ?  Nay,  they  were  the  inveterate  foes  of  the 
prn-sls.  No  man  ever  berated  the  priests  more  soundly  than  did  Jere- 
miah and  Ezekiel.  And  who  were  they  who  heard  Jesus  the  most 
j:!adly  ?  The  priests  ?  The  chief  priests  were  at  the  head  of  those 
who  ib-iiiunded  his  crucifixion.  In  every  age  the  priests,  the  authorized 
le  ichors  of  religion,  are  the  first  to  oppose  the  true  prophet  of  Cod, 
and  lo  coiwlemn  his  prophecies  as  blasphemies.  They  arc  always  a 
let  and  a  hinderauce  to  the  spread  of  truth.     Why  then  retain  them  ? 


96  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

Why  not  abolish  the  priestly  otTicc  ?  Why  continue  to  sustain  what 
the  wliole  history  of  man  condemns  as  tlie  gicatcst  of  all  obstacles  to 
inlclk  cUial  and  social  procuress  ?" 

Wc  liave  given  tliis  quotation  entire,  that  ihc  reader  may  be 
convinced  tliat  wc  do  ihc  writer  no  injustice  wlicn  we  affirm  that 
pi-icsls  arc  the  particular  objects  of  lu«  liostilc  feelings — that  they, 
above  all  others,  stand  in  the  way  of  his  chariot  of  universal  reform. 

Now  it  may  be  asked.  What  is  the  grand  ultimatum  of  a! I  this? 
And  it  is  certainly  ]Mopcr,  before  wc  proceed  further  in  our  ani- 
madversions, that  this  question  -should  be  answered.  It  is,  then, 
to  restore  mankind  to  a  state  of  perfect  equality  in  respect  to  pro- 
pert]^' — that  the  distinction  between  the  rich  and  the  poor  should 
cease  to  exist,  now  and  for  ever — that  all  shoidd  work  alike — that 
there  should  be  no  longer  master  and  servant,  the  hirer  and  the 
hired,  the  teacher  and  the  tatight,  the  jiricst  and  the  people. 

That  this  is  the  final  object  of  all  this  upsetting  of  institutions, 
uprooting  of  long-cstabli.-^hcd  societies,  relations,  usages,  customs, 
and  laws,  is  manifest  from  the  following  language  : — 

"  No  one  can  observe  the  siqTis  of  the  times  with  much  care,  witliout 
perceiving  that  a  crisis  as  to  tlie  relation  of  wealth  and  labor  is  ap- 
proaching. It  is  useless  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact,  and,  like  the 
ostrich,  fancy  ourselves  secure  because  wc  have  so  concealed  our 
heads  that  wc  see  not  the  danjirr.  \\'c  or  our  children  will  have  to 
meet  this  crisis.  'J'hc  old  war  between  the  king  and  the  barons  is 
well  nigh  ended,  and  so  is  that  between  the  barons  and  the  merchants 
and  manufacturers, — landed  capital  and  conuncrcial  capital.  The 
business  man  has  become  the  ])cer  of  my  lord.  And  now  commences 
the  new  struggle  between  the  operative  and  his  employer,  between 
wealth  and  labor.  Every  day  does  this  struggle  e.\tend  further,  and 
wax  stronger  and  fiercer  ;  what  or  \\  hen  the  end  will  be,  God  only 
knows. 

"  la  this  coming  cojilest  there  is  a  deeper  question  at  issue  than  is 
commonly  imagined  ;  a  question  whiili  is  but  remotely  touched  in  your 
controversies  about  United  .Sl:il(-s  liauks  and  Sub-Treasuries,  chartered 
banking  and  free  bankinL^  free  tv.ulf  and  cor|ioraiions,  although  these 
controversies  may  be  ])aviMi,'  the  way  lor  it  to  come  up.  AVe  have 
discovered  no  presfutmciit  of  it  in  any  king's  or  ([ucen's  speech,  nor  in 
any  president's  message.  It  is  emlirared  in  no  popular  political  creed 
of  the  day,  whether  elnist.'nrd  Whi;:  or  Tory, /»i/c-7;,i7/, «  or  Demo- 
cratic. No  popular  senator,  or  deputy,  or  peer  seems  to  have  any 
glimpse  of  it;  but  it  is  working  in  the  hearts  of  the  million,  is  strug- 
gling to  shape  itself,  and  one  day  it  will  be  uttered,  and  in  thunder 
tones.  Well  will  it  be  for  him  who,  lui  that  day,  shall  be  found  ready 
to  answer  it. 

"  What,  wc  would  ask,  is,  throughout  the  Christian  world,  the  actual 


1^41.]  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  97 

rondilioii  of  the  hboring  classes,  viewed  simply  and  exclusively  in 
Uioir  cap.icity  of  laborers?  They  constitute  at  least  a  moiety  of  the 
lumian  race.  We  exclude  the  nobility,  we  exclude  also  the  middle 
class,  and  inchule  only  actual  laborers,  who  arc  laborers  and  not  pro- 
j)rietors,  owners  of  none  of  the  funds  of  production,  ntilher  houses, 
.shops,  nor  lands,  nor  implements  of  labor,  being  therefore  solely  de- 
j>rndiiu  on  their  hands.  We  have  no  means  of  ascertaining  their 
pr>-cisc  ])roporlion  to  the  whole  number  of  the  race  ;  but  we  think  we 
may  estimate  them  at  one  half.  In  any  contest  they  will  be  as  two  to 
one,  because  the  large  class  of  proprietors  who  are  not  employers,  but 
laborers  on  their  own  lands  or  in  their  own  shops,  will  make  common 
cause  with  them. 

"  Now  we  will  not  so  belie  our  acquaintance  with  political  economy 
as  to  allege  that  these  alone  perfonn  all  that  is  neccssar)'  to  the  pro- 
diKftion  of  wealth.  We  are  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  the  merchant, 
wlio  is  literally  the  common  carrier  and  exchange  dealer,  performs  a 
useful  service,  and  is  therefore  entitled  to  a  portion  of  the  proceeds  of 
libor.  Hut  make  all  nccessaiy  deductions  on  his  account,  and  then 
ask  what  portion  of  the  remainder  is  retained,  ciihor  in  kind  or  in  its 
equivalent,  in  the  hands  of  the  original  producer,  the  workingman  ?  All 
over  the  world  this  fact  stares  us  in  the  face,  the  workingman  is  poor 
and  dcj)ressed,  while  a  large  portion  of  the  non-workingmen,  in  the 
sense  we  now  use  the  term,  are  wealthy.  It  may  be  laid  down  as  a 
general  rule,  with  but  few  exceptions,  that  men  are  rewarded  in  an  in- 
verse ratio  to  the  amount  of  actual  service  they  perform.  Under  every 
government  on  earth  the  largest  salaries  are  annexed  to  those  offices 
v.hich  demand  of  their  incumbents  the  least  amount  of  actual  labor, 
cither  mental  or  manual.  And  this  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
whole  system  of  repartition  of  the  fruits  of  industry  which  obtains  in 
ev(.ry  dipnrtment  of  societ)-.  Now  here  is  the  system  which  prevails, 
and  here  is  its  result.  The  whole  class  of  simple  laborers  are  poor, 
ami  in  general  unable  to  procure  any  thing  beyond  the  bare  necessaries 

Tliese  jiaragraplis  need  no  interpretation.  However  impractica- 
lile  such  a  slate  of  society  may  be — and  its  impracticability  lias 
l)ceii  doinonstratcd  .1  thousand  times — our  autlior  seems  detcruiined 
l!i:it  the  experiment  sliall  be  again  made,  at  all  hazards.  Nothing 
daunted  from  tlie  failures  of  former  visionists,  whose  splendid  the- 
ories have  been  demolished  tlie  moment  they  were  brouglit  to  the 
lest  of  experiment,  nor  at  all  disheartened  from  the  bloody  pros- 
pects before  liim,  he  dashes  on  with  giant  strides,  and  seems  even 
to  invoke  rather  tlian  deprecate  the  sanguinary  conflict  whiclt  he 
(I'.inks  inevitable  to  consmnmate  the  reign  of  universal  equality. 
Hear  liiur  in  tlic  following  strong  language  upon  this  subject : — 
^  ■■  It  will  bo  found  only  at  the  end  of  one  of  the  longest  and  severest 
»triiu'ylt5  the  liumau  race  has  ever  been  engaged  in,  only  by  that  most 


98  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

ilrcatied  of  nil  wars,  the  war  of  the  poor  n;:ainst  the  rich  ;  a  war  which, 
however  long  it  may  be  delayed,  will  eonie,  and  come  with  all  its 
horrors.  The  day  of  vengeance  is  siirr  ;  lor  the  world,  after  all,  is 
under  the  dominion  of  Providence."  |ltis  |iresnmed  that  the  reader 
least  of  all  expected  to  hear  this  recognition  of  a  Providence  from  such 
a  writer.] 

The  aliovc  iiiiotation  occurs  in  the  first  pari  of  the  pamphlet 
before  us.  And  wlicn  \vc  read  it  we  entertained  a  hope,  at  least, 
that  before  he  concluded  lie  might  eool  down  into  a  more  temperate 
mood,  or  lliat  he  might  modify  the  language  so  as  to  give  liis  read- 
ers a  lcs.s  shocking  view  of  his  warlike  anticipations.  Tliis  liope, 
liowcvcr,  was  blasted  in  reading  iho  last  page,  where  we  tind  him, 
in  the  concluding  paragraph  but  one,  rcaffirmhig  the  same  convic- 
tions in  yet  stronger  and  more  fearftd  language.     Here  he  says — 

"And  is  this  a  measure  lo  be  easily  carried?  Not  at  all.  It  will ' 
cost  infinitely  more  than  it  cost  to  aliolish  cither  hereditary  mon.arcliy 
or  hereditary  nobility.  It  is  a  i;rea'  measure,  and  a  startling  one. 
The  rich,  the  Inisinc.^s  comnnini'y,  v.  ill  never  voluntarily  consent  lo  it, 
and  we  think  we  know  too  unicli  ol'  Inunan  naUirc  to  believe  that  it 
will  ever  be  cflected  peaceably.  It  will  be  clTcctcd  only  by  the  strong 
arm  of  physical  force.  It  will  come,  if  it  ever  come  at  all,  only  at  the 
conclusion  of  war,  the  like  of  which  the  world  as  yet  lias  never  wit- 
nessed, and  from  which,  however  inevitable  it  may  seem  to  the  eye  of 
philosophy,  the  heart  of  humanity  recoils  with  horror." 

And  who  that  lias  a  spark  of  liumanity  left  can  even  read  these 
lines  without  shuddering  with  liorror  ?  Yet  our  author  nenes 
himself  up  for  the  combat  as  if  lie  were  actually  playing  with  the 
lightning  and  controlling  the  iliinuh'r.  Thougli  his  patriotic  blood 
boils  over  with  burning  charily  f'r  tlie  poor,  lie  can  deliberately 
throw  llic  "rich  and  the  business  conimuiiily"  into  the  "fiery  fur- 
nace which  i.s  heated  seven  time.s  Imitcr"  than  ever  furnace  was 
heated  before,  and  look  calmly  on  while  the  conflagration  is  raging 
around  him,  ihougli  it  be  such  a  fire  "  as  the  world  has  never  yet 
•witnessed."  And  yet  tliis  unprocedenled  war,  this  unheard-of 
struggle,  this  horrid  and  most  sau£.aiinary  conflict,  is  lo  be  invoked 
in  llic  name  of  Providence,  and  all  for  the  good  of  tlie  race  ! 

Perhaps,  liowcver,  we  do  liiin  injustice.  It  shall  not  come  in 
liis  time,  unless,  indeed,  lie  be  very  young.  There  must  be  pre- 
ptiration ;  and  lest  his  readers  mi^lil  su])posc  tliat  he  is  wanting 
in  moral  and  physical  courage  to  meet  this  awful  crisis,  lie  thus 
speaks  of  its  final  consuniniation,  taking  care,  in  the  mean  time,  to 


jKll.]  Tlic  Rich  ogaiiist  the  Poor.  99 

!oi  IIS  know  that  when  this  great  day  of  wrath  shall  come,  there 
^vill  lie  needed  stout  hearts  and  fearless  mai-tjTS.  He,  however, 
(i:>.lv  discusses  tlic  iiicasurc.  His  heroism,  therefore,  is  the  licro- 
ism  v{  words,  and  even  tliese  he  seems  almost  afraid  to  utter 
]il:iiii!y  and  unequivocally,  lest  it  might  awaken  misgivings  in  the 
miiids  of  liis  readers  respecting  the  expediency  and  feasibihly  of 
\'.\>  phin.  That  he  recognizes  the  lawfiihiess  of  martyrdom  in 
sMjiporl  of  a  just  cause,  and  even  anticipates  its  necessity  in  sus- 
taining that  which  leads  to  general  equality  and  popular  dominion, 
is  manifest  from  his  concluding  pai-agraph. 

'•  Wc  are,"  he  says,  "  not  ready  for  this  moasine  yet.  There  is  much 
jirevioiis  work  to  be  done,  and  we  should  bo  the  last  to  bring  it  before 
the  Ifj^islature.  The  time,  however,  has  come  for  its  free  and  full 
disciij'sion.  It  must  be  canvassed  in  the  public  mind,  and  society  pre- 
jiarcd  for  acting  on  it.  No  doubt  they  who  broach  it,  and  especially 
iliey  who  support  it,  will  experience  a  due  share  of  contumely  and 
abuse.  They  will  bo  rcj^arded  by  the  part  of  the  connniuiily  they 
opp.)sc,  or  may  be  l]iout;ht  to  oppose,  as  'graceless  varh-'ls,'  against 
wliorn  every  man  of  substance  should  set  his  face.  But  this  is  not,  after 
all,  a  ihing  to  disturb  a  wise  man,  nor  to  deter  a  true  man  from  telling 
his  whole  thought.  He  who  is  wortliy  of  the  name  of  man  speaks 
whal  he  honestly  believes  the  interests  of  his  race  demand,  and  seldom 
dis(iuiets  himself  about  what  may  be  the  consequences  to  himself 
-Men  have,  for  what  they  believed  the  cause  of  God  or  man,  endured 
the  dungeon,  the  scaflbld,  the  stake,  the  cross— and  they  can  do  it  again, 
if  need  be.  'J'his  subject  must  be  freely,  boldly,  and  fully  discussed, 
whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  those  who  discuss  it." 

It  is  probable  tliat  lliose  who  have  not  read  the  entire  pamphlet, 
may  be  ready  to  conclude  from  the  above  extracts  tlial  Mr.  Brown- 
Fon  is  a  genuine  follower  of  Fanny  Wright— that  he  is  a  thorotigli- 
p.iccd  infidel,  and  therefore  wishes  to  upset  Cluistianity,  and  build 
ii|>  ih-ism  or  atheism  on  its  ruins.  Nothing  is  further  from  his 
lliouglits.  He  is  a  full  believer  in  Christianity.  In  destroying  all 
disiinctions  in  society — all  inequalities  between  the  rich  and  the 
]>oor,  the  leai-ned  and  unlearned,  the  ignorant  and  tlie  wise,  in  ex- 
Icniiinating  priests,  and  pursuing  a  course  which  must  inevitably 
bring  on  such  a  war  as  the  world  never  yet  witnessed — lie  most 
l)ioiisly,  and  patlieticaUy,  and  eloquently  invokes  the  genius  of  Chris- 
iiaiuiy  to  his  aid.  So  far  from  deprecating  this  system  of  rehgion 
a"  a  corrupter  of  human  society,  he  makes  it  the  palladium  of  the 
hl'crty  .'uid  equality  wliich  he  designs  to  establish,  and  as  the  grand 
panaci'.i  wliicli  is  to  eradicate  the  disorders  wliich  now  so  grievous- 


100  The  Rich  against  the  Pour.  [January, 

ly  afflict  the  Imman  race.  To  bo.  convinced  of  this,  read  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  his  pamphlet : — 

"The  next  step  in  this  work  of  clovaliiij^r  llic  woikino-  chsses  will 
be  to  resuscitato  the  Christianity  of  Clirisl.  The  Christianity  of  the 
church  has  done  its  work.  Wc  Ikivc  IkhI  enough  of  that  Christianity. 
It  is  powerless  for  L'ood,  hut  by  no  means  jiowerlcss  for  evil.  It  now 
unmans  us  and  hinders  the  growth  of  Clod's  kingdom.  The  moral  en- 
ergy which  is  awakened  it  niisdirccis,  and  makes  ii.:i  deluded  disciples 
believe  thai  they  have  done  their  iluty  to  Cod  when  they  have  joined 
the  church,  olfcrod  a  prayer,  snug  a  [i.-alrn,  and  contributed  of  their 
means  to  send  out  a  missionary  to  preach  inuntclligiblc  dogmas  to  the 
poor  heathen,  who,  God  knows,  have  uidntclligible  dogmas  enough 
already,  and  more  than  enough.  All  this  nuist  be  abandoned,  and  Chris- 
tianity, as  it  came  from  Christ,  bo  taken  up  aiid  preached  in  simplicity 
and  in  power. 

"  According  to  the  Christianity  of  Christ,  no  man  can  enter  the  king- 
dom of  God  who  does  not  labor  with  all  zeal  and  diligence  to  establish 
the  kingdom  of  God  on  the  earth  ;  who  does  not  labor  to  bring  down 
the  high,  and  brirjg  up  the  low  ;  n.  br.ak  the  fetters  of  the  bound  and 
set  the  captive  free;  to  destroy  all  (ijijirc  s.-jion,  establish  the  reign  of 
justice,  which  is  the  reign  of  eqiialiiy,  b.lween  man  and  man  ;  to  intro- 
duce new  heavens  and  a  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness, 
wherein  all  shall  be  as  brothers,  loving  one  another,  and  no  one  pos- 
sessing what  another  lacketh.  No  man  can  be  a  Christian  who  docs 
not  labor  to  reform  society,  to  innld  it  according  to  the  will  of  God 
and  llie  nature  of  man  ;  so  that  free  scope  shall  be  given  to  everj-  man 
to  unfold  himself  in  all  beauty  and  power,  and  to  grow  up  into  the  stature 
of  a  perfect  man  in  Christ  Jesus.  No  man  can  be  a  Christian  who 
does  not  refrain  from  all  practices  by  which  the  rich  grow  richer  and 
the  poor  poorer,  and  who  docs  not  do  rdl  iji  liis  power  to  elevate  the 
laboring  classes,  so  that  one  man  sliall  not  be  doomed  to  toil  while  an- 
other enjoys  the  fruits  ;  so  that  each  man  shall  be  free  and  independ- 
ent, sitting  under  '  his  own  vine  and  fig  tree,  with  none  to  molest  or 
to  make  afraid.'  We  grant  the  power  of  Christianity  in  working  out 
the  reform  we  demand  ;  wc  agree  that  one  of  the  most  efticient  means 
of  elevating  the  wurkingmen  is  to  Christianize  the  community.  But 
you  must  Christianize  it.  It  is  the  gospel  of  Jesus  you  must  preach, 
and  not  the  gospel  of  the  priests.  Preach  the  gospel  of  Jesus,  and  that 
will  turn  every  man's  attention  to  tho  crj'ing  evil  wc  have  designated, 
and  will  arm  every  Christian  with  i«)wcr  to  cll'ect  those  changes  in  so- 
cial arrangenients,  w  hich  shall  secure  to  all  men  the  equality  of  position 
and  condition  which  it  is  already  acknowledged  they  possess  in  rela- 
tion to  their  rights.  But  let  it  be  the  genuine  gospel  that  you  preach, 
and  not  that  pscudo  gospel  which  lulls  the  conscience  asleep,  and  per- 
mits men  to  feel  that  they  may  lie  servants  of  (iod  while  they  arc  slaves 
to  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil  ;  and  while  they  ride'  roughshod 
over  the  hearts  of  their  pro;  Irate  brethren.  We  nnist  preach  no  gospel 
that  permits  men  to  feel  tli.it  they  are  honor.able  men  and  good  Chris- 
tians, although  rich  and  with  eyes  standing  out  with  fatness,  while  the 


1(^41.1  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  101 

jrrcal  nuss  of  tlieir  brethren  arc  suiTeting  from  iniquitous  laws,  from 
inisc-hii'vous  social  avraiigemcnls,  and  pining  away  for  the  want  of  the 
tofiiicinonts  and  ovt-n  the  necessaries  of  life. 

"  Wo  speak  strongly  and  pointedly  on  this  subject,  because  we  are 
(Jcsirous  of  arresting  attention.  We  would  draw  the  public  attention  to 
thn  striking  contrast  which  actually  exists  between  the  Christianity  of 
Cliriiit,  anil  the  Christianity  of  the  church.  That  moral  and  intellectual 
ciii-r^rv  which  exists  in  our  counir_v,  indeed  throughout  Christendom, 
uni]  which  would,  if  rightly  directed,  transform  this  wilderness  world 
iiilc)  a  hlooming  paradise  of  God,  is  now,  by  the  pseudo  gospel  which 
IS  pri^uched,  rendered  wholly  inefficient,  by  being  wasted  on  that 
which,  even  if  effected,  would  leave  all  the  crying  evils  of  the  times  un- 
touched. Under  the  influence  of  the  church,  our  efforts  are  not  directed 
to  the  reorganization  of  society,  to  the  introduction  of  equality  between 
man  and  man,  to  the  removal  of  the  corruptions  of  the  rich,  and  the 
wretchedness  of  the  poor.  W^e  think  only  of  saving  our  own  souls,  as 
if  a  man  must  not  put  himself  so  out  of  the  case,  as  to  be  willing  to  be 
danmcd  before  he  can  be  saved.  Paid  was  willing  to  be  accursed  from 
Christ  to  save  his  brethren  from  the  vengeance  which  hung  over  them, 
liiii  iiovorlhiless  we  think  only  of  saving  our  own  souls  ;  or  if  per- 
cli'iice.  our  Ix  nevolrnce  is  awakened,  and  we  think  it  desirable  to  labor 
for  t!i<»  salvation  of  others,  it  is  mcrcl}-  to  save  tliem  from  imaginary 
snis  and  the  tortures  of  an  imaginary  hell.  The  redemption  of  the  world 
IS  understood  to  mean  simply  the  restoration  of  mankind  to  the  favor  of 
God  in  the  world  to  come.  Their  redemption  from  the  evils  of  ine- 
quality, of  factitious  distinctions,  and  iniquitous  social  institutions,  counts 
lor  nothing  in  the  eyes  of  the  church.    And  this  is  its  condemnation. 

"  We  cannot  proceed  a  single  step,  with  the  least  safety,  in  the  great 
work  of  elevating  the  laboring  classes,  without  the  exaltation  of  senti- 
ment, the  generous  sympathy,  and  the  moral  courage  which  Christian- 
iiy  alone  is  fitted  to  produce  or  quicken.  But  il  is  lamentable  to  see 
how,  by  means  of  the  mistakes  of  the  church,  the  moral  courage,  the 
t;.  norous  sympathy,  the  exaltation  of  sentiment,  Christianity  does  not 
;c;i:-djy  produce  or  quicken,  is  perverted,  and  made  cflicient  only  in 
priHluc'ug  evil,  or  hindering  the  growth  of  good.  Here  is  wherefore  it 
M  nt-ccssarj-  on  the  one  hand  to  condemn  in  the  most  pointed  terms  the 
<'hrl^IiaIlily  of  the  church,  and  to  bring  out  on  the  other  hand  in  all  its 
tl<  a-ncss,  brilliancy,  and  glory,  the  Christianity  of  Christ." 

W'c  believe  the  reader  has  now  fully  before  him  the  objects,  and 
tiie  means  to  attain  tliem,  as  well  as  the  creed  of  the  writer.  And 
wc  have  been  thus  particular  and  ample  in  our  quotations,  to  pre- 
\rnt  any  misconception  of  liis  sentiments,  that  we  may  not  be  ac- 
tiist'd  of  misrepresentation.  And  here  we  take  the  liberty  to 
'(mark  that  wc  freely  award  to  him  the  virUic  o{ sincerity.  How- 
cx-r  enilnisiastic  he  may  be,  he  is  not  a  hjiDocrite,  for  no  lij^po- 
t  rile  r.-in  be  an  enthusiast.  He  certainly  has  persuaded  himself 
'iito  a  full  belief  that  he  is  seeking  the  greatest  possible  good  by 

Voj..  I.— 7 


102  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [Jaiiuarj^ 

the  best  possible  means.  lie  is,  therefore,  tlie  friend  of  the  poor, 
the  enemy  of  tlic  rich,  the  hater  of  priests,  the  opposer  of  aristoc- 
racy, and  a  believer  in  Christianiti/ . 

He  has  therefore  bound  liimself  to  submit  to  a  test  by  wliich  xce 
wish  to  try  all  doctrines.  And  from  tliis  test  he  cannot  in  honor 
and  conscience  extricate  himself,  for  it  is  of  his  o\vn  selection. 
Had  he  appealed  to  history,  to  philosophy,  to  hcatlienism,  to  deism, 
to  atheism,  or  to  an  h)-pothesis  of  his  own,  the  hke  of  which  no 
man  ever  saw,  our  work  would  have  been  much  more  laborious, 
and  our  task  difficult.  We  sliould  tlien  have  been  compelled  to 
show  that  historj-  condemned  his  theory  whenever  it  had  been  tried 
— that  pliilosophy  lends  its  aid  fur  llic  support  of  a  different  state 
of  things — that  hcatlienism  recognized  ]io  such  leveling  scheme — 
that  neitlier  deism  nor  atlicism  furni>hed  principles  or  motives  suffi- 
ciently strong  to  bind  mankind  together — and  llien,  before  we  could 
have  brought  Christianity  to  bear  upon  his  new  thcor}^  we  shoidd 
have  been  compelled  to  jirove  that  Cliristianity  is  true,  and  there- 
fore authoritative  in  its  language.  Rut  we  are  happily  saved  all 
this  labor.  We  have  to  contend  witli  an  author  who,  like  oui-selves, 
believes  in  Cluristianily,  and  tiicrefore  is  boimd  to  submit  to  its 
precepts  and  doctrines,  iiowcvcr  mysterious  and  self-denying.  Nor 
does  he  believe  in  a  mere  nominal  Clnistianity.  It  is  to  be  the 
efficient  inslriuncnt  (if  this  mighty  renovation.  It  is  to  become  the 
piurifier  of  this  cornipt  mass.  It  is,  in  a  word,  to  be  the  "  axe  laid 
to  the  root  of  tlie  tree"  whose  bitter  frait  has  poisoned  the  whole 
human  family,  which  shall  with  one  mighty  stroke  fell  it  to  the 
ground.  When  this  is  done,  a  uiu'vcrsal  shout  shall  go  up  to 
heaven,  that  all  men  are  free  and  cijual. 

Having  thus  paved  tlie  way  for  an  examination  of  llic  theory  of 
the  author,  and  shown  the  principles  l)y  which  it  is  to  be  tested, 
we  will  endeavor  now  to  look  it  calmly  in  the  face,  and  see  if  its 
beauty  is  so  irresistible  as  to  charm  us  into  its  embrace.  Lest, 
however,  he  should  misap]irchcnd  our  meaning,  we  will  concede 
to  liim, 

1.  That  there  are  evils  in  society  which  loudly  call  for  the  strong 
hand  of  reform.  Wc  allow  that,  as  a  general  tiling,  the  rich  are 
wont  to  oppress  the  poor — that  rulers  are  prone  to  tyrannize  over  the 
ruled,  and  that  masters  are  often  cnicl  to  their  servants.  These 
evils  exist,  have  existed,  and  are  likely  to  exist  while  the  world 
7* 


1641.]  The  Rich  against  the  Poo?:  103 

stands,  unless  human  nature  itself  be  reformed.  But  we  contend 
tlial  tlii'sc  evils  arise  out  of  the  abuse,  and  not  from  the  right  vse, 
of  tlic  social  relations — that  they  do  not  necessarily  inhere  in  the 
svstein  itself  which  sanctions  the  distinctions  in  society,  but  out  of 
thai  conuiioii  perversity  of  human  beings  which  prompts  them  to  a 
hcenlinus  use  of  their  powers  and  privileges.    We  concede  to  liira, 

2.  That  there  are  more  of  these  artificial  distinctions  cre- 
ated by  wealth,  by  pride,  by  t}Tanny,  by  fashion,  and  that  cupidity 
which  a  high  state  of  civilization  engenders,  than  is  essential  to  a 
li(uilthy  and  prosperous  state  of  human  society,  yet  these  are  excesses 
\^•hich  grow  from  a  state  of  moral  and  political  corruption,  whicli 
might  be  avoided  were  all  the  nrembers  of  community  midcr  the 
iiillucnce  of  justice,  mercj',  and  the  love  of  God  ;  and  the  remedy, 
li'.orcfore,  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  destruction  of  these  distinctions, 
but  ill  their  suitable  adjustment,  in  lopping  off  the  hurtful  cxcres- 
n-iiccs  of  the  social  system,  and  in  purifying  the  corrupt  mass  by 
such  a  process  of  moral  refinement  as  Christianity  furnishes. 

;).  It  is  also  conceded  that  priests  have  been  and  are  comipt. 
History,  v.hich  is  the  true  interpreter  of  men's  character,  reveals 
the  fact  that  there  liave  been  in  all  ages,  among  all  religions,  Jew- 
ish, Pagan,  Mohammedan,  and  Christian,  wicked  and  corrupt  priests, 
who  Jiave  ruled  with  despotism,  and  devoured,  instead  of  havuig 
protected  and  fed,  the  flock.  Against  such  priests  we  know  that 
Christianity  enters  its  solemn  protest.  But  we  contend  that  these 
evils  do  not  necessarily  arise  from  the  order.  This  is  also  an 
(ihusr  of  the  ollice.  A  priest  may  be  as  meek,  as  just,  as  merciful, 
Mid  as  pure  in  his  heart  and  character,  as  the  poorest  and  most 
liard-workiiig  man  in  the  community.  There  have  been  such, 
and,  therefore,  there  may  be  again.  But  Christianity  condemns 
those  corrupt  priests.  Christianity,  also,  proposes  a  remedy  for 
tliciii,  not  indeed  by  destroying  them,  not  in  the  annihilation  of 
llie  order,  but  by  reforming  tliem,  by  purifying  iheir  liearts  and 
regulating  their  lives,  and  thus  making  them  in  all  things  "  cnsam- 
ples  to  the  flock." 

'1-  It  is  furthermore  conceded  that  the  church  has  been,  at  times 
■1'  least,  very  corrupt.  And  hence,  viewing  Christianity  as  taught 
:■:"!  txini])lified  by  this  corrupt  church,  it  has  been  disfigured, 
lK>!hi!«-d,  and  disgraced,  as  a  sanctioner  of  licentiousness,  and  as  a 
paiidercr  to  the  corrupt  passions  of  mankind.     But  is  Cluristianity 


104       "  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

itself  responsible  for  these  abuses  1  As  well  might  you  attribute 
the  horrors  of  the  Robcspicrrcan  murders  in  the  days  of  the  French 
revolution  to  tlie  pure  principles  of  rc])ublicanism,  as  to  charge 
these  evils  of  a  fallen  and  corrujit  hierarchy  upon  the  pure  cfiurch 
of  Jesus  Christ.  "  What  is  ib.e  chaff  to  the  wheat,  saith  the  Lord  ?" 
Jjeam  we,  then,  to  distinguish  between  the  precious  and  the  yilc, 
between  the  right  use  and  the  wicked  abuse  of  a  good  thing. 

Having  premised  these  things,  let  us  now  bring  the  doclrmes  of 
the  pamphlet  to  the  test  of  tlie  book — the  book  of  God — or  that 
pure  Clirislianity  by  which  our  aullior  has  consented  to  try  his  sys- 
tem. For,  as  before  said,  he  has  voluntarily  selected  this  system 
of  doctrines,  morals,  and  jircccpts,  not  only  as  the  model  of  his 
system,  but  as  the  rectifier  of  t)ie  evils  of  which  he  complains. 

If,  however,  he  object  to  the  book  of  God  as  the  final  arbiter  of 
the  cause  at  issue  between  us,  but  appeals  to  Christianity,  we  beg 
leave  to  ask  him  how  he  came  to  a  knowledge  of  Christianity? 
He  has  no  right  to  conjure  up  a  system  of  religion  from  his  vivid 
imagination,  and  then  call  it  Cliristianity.  The  only  source 
whence  the  knowledge  of  Christianity  is  derived  is  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, and  especially  the  New  Testament.  It  is  therefore  from 
lience  that  we  are  to  bring  the  truths  which  define  the  system. 

Now  do  the  WTiters  of  l!ie  New  Testament  anywhere  declare 
that  there  arc  to  be  no  distinctions  in  society  ?  We  believe  not. 
They  do,  indeed,  pronounce  woes  upon  the  rich,  upon  the  unjust, 
upon  the  unmerciful,  the  hypocrite,  the  pharisee,  and  upon  all  sorts 
and  classes  of  sinners.  V>\\\  ihcy  do  not  denounce  the  rich  merely 
because  tliey  arc  rich,  but  because  they  "  trust  inimccrtain  riches  ;" 
because  they  oppress,  and  do  not  feed,  the  poor. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Author  of  Christianity  said  to  the  people, 
"  Tlie  poor  ye  have  always  witii  you,  and  wliensoever  ye  will,  ye 
may  do  them  good."  It  was  not,  lliercfore,  for  being  rich  merely, 
that  they  should  "  hardly  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,"  but  be- 
cause they  refused  to  "  make  to  themselves  friends  with  the  mam- 
mon of  unrighteousness,"  by  dispersing  abroad,  giving  to  the  poor, 
and  making  tlie  hearts  of  the  widow  and  fatherless  to  rejoice.  While 
the  Saviour  said  to  one  rich  young  man,  "Sell  what  thou  hast,  and 
give  to  the  poor,"  as  being  the  most  proper  for  him  in  his  circum- 
stances, to  enable  liim  to  be  a  jjcrfect  follower  of  his  Lord  and 
Master,  he  commanded  other  rich  men  to  give  of  their  substance 


]S[\.]  Tlie  Rich  against  the  Poor.  105 

to  the  poor ;  and  the  aioostlc  charged  them  tliat  were  rich  in  this 
woikl,  "  that  they  be  ready  to  give,  glad  lo  distribute,  laying  up  in 
store  for  themselves  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come, 
tlial  ihi-y  may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life."  Now,  if  there  were  no 
rich  or  poor  men,  (as  there  could  be  none  of  either,  if  all  such 
distiiutiuiis  were  annihilated,)  how  could  these  precepts  be 
oboyi'd  ?  One  of  the  most  important,  most  merciful  precepts  of 
ih'it  ('hvistianity  which  our  author  so  mucli  admires,  and  in  which 
its  beauty  is  set  forth  most  conspicuously,  could  never  be  exem- 
plihed  in  practice,  but  must  be  rendered  null  and  void,  were  the 
theory  in  question  once  established.  And  is  it  the  intention  of 
Christianity  to  defeat  itself — to  annihilate  its  o^Ti  precepts  ? 

But  allowing  thai  Christianity  contemplates  such  a  leveling  in 
society  as  should  destroy  all  these  distinctions,  and  make  all  equally 
(li'ptndent  on  each  other,  or  equally  independent,  docs  it  sanction 
ihc  imans  of  this  writer  to  accomplish  such  an  end?  He  certainly 
mint  bo  aware  that  this  religion  breathes  naught  but  peace  and 
ui'oJ  will  to  man ;  tliat  it  abhors  all  sanguinary  measures  to  pro- 
p.iijatc  its  precepts,  or  to  force  its  duties  and  immunities  on  man- 
kind; declaring  that  all  "who  take  the  sword"  in  its  defense  "shall 
jjerish  by  the  sword."  Where,  then,  does  Mr.  B.  find  in  this 
Cliristianity  a  warrant  for  proclaiming  such  a  war  as  the  world 
nover  yet  witnessed,  in  order  to  eflect  the  consummation  he  so 
doMjiitly  wishes  'f  Does  he  find  anywlierc  in  the  New  Testament 
thai  the  adorable  Author  of  Christianity  called  upon  the  poor  to 
.•irise,  sword  in  hand,  against  ihe  rich,  and  cither  exterminate  them 
froin  the  carlh,  or  compel  ihem  to  distribute  their  wealth  equally 
lun.'i^L'  the  poor?     He  knows,  we  must  think,  that  he  cannot. 

I-'--;  Us  next  inquire  whether  Christianity  aims  to  upset  all 
u(nininients,  and  thus  destroy  nil  civil  distinctions.  This  is  so 
pall'iibly  ab.surd  in  itself,  that  it  is  a  wonder  that  any  man  should 
ever  adojit  sucli  a  wild  and  visionary  notion.  Whoever  has  studied 
Cl'.ri.-lianily  with  candor  and  attention  must  know  that  it  never  in- 
tcrnieJdled  at  all  with  the  forms  of  civil  governments.  Neither 
i''^u*  Christ  liimself  nor  his  apostles  ever  attempted,  in  the  small- 
r^\  ilc;;rcc,  to  alter  or  modify,  much  less  to  annihilate,  the  govcm- 
ni'ui  of  the  country  where  ihey  lived  and  labored.  The  great 
i!i  vMiii  ;:.loj)ted  by  the  Jlaster,'  and  acted  upon  b}'-  his  apostles  and 
foil  , WITS,  was,  "  Render  to  God  the  things  that  are  God's,  and  to 


100  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [Januar}', 

Cesar  the  things  tli;tt  arc  Cesar's."  The  apostles,  who  are  the 
best  interpreters  of  tlic  principles  of  their  divine  I\lastcr,  traveled 
into  dificrent  countries,  and  therefore  saw  different  forms  of  civil 
government ;  but  instead  of  declaring  a  preference  to  one  or  the 
other,  they  simply  directed  their  disciples  to  pray  "  for  all  that  are 
in  authority,"  to  "  honor  the  king,"  lu  be  "  subject  to  the  powers 
that  be,"  enforcing  these  precepts  from  tiie  consideration  that  the 
"powers  that  be  ai'e  ordained  of  God."  These  and  the  like  pre- 
cepts are  evidently  founded  on  the  ]jresuiiiption  that  civil  govern- 
ment, in  some  form,  being  essential  for  the  existence  and  welfare 
of  human  society,  is  ordained  of  God  for  this  very  reason  and  end, 
and  hence  it  becomes  the  imperative  duty  of  all  men  to  yield  a 
willing  and  prompt  obedience  to  these  ])owers. 

Observe :  the  apostle  does  not  say  that  the  men  in  power  and 
all  their  acts  of  aihninistnilion  arc  ordained  of  God,  nor  yet  that 
God  has  ordanied  that  the  jiower  should  be  lodged  in  the  hands  of 
one  man  or  five  hundred.  This  is  another  part  of  the  question, 
which,  we  shall  soon  see,  Clu-islianity  disposes  of  in  a  way  equally 
satisfactory.  But  it  is  the  poiccrs  lliat  arc  ordained  of  God ;  that 
is,  as  we  humbly  conceive,  it  is  iieccssaiy  in  the  nature  of  things, 
such  is  the  unalterable  constitution  of  human  society,  that  just  so 
much  power  must  be  intnistcd  to  some  one  or  more  as  is  essential 
to  command  obedience,  to  preserve  order  in  the  social  state,  and  to 
inflict  penalties  upon  the  incorrigibly  disobedient  and  rebellious. 
Without  this  society  cannot  exist.  It  matters  little  whether  this 
power  is  invested  in  the  hands  of  one  man,  ten  men,  five  hundred, 
or  five  thousand  men,  or  in  the  whole  community  ;  it  is  never,  let 
it  be  lodged  wherever  it  may,  less  than  absolute,  and  it  must  there- 
fore be  obej-ed  or  its  penalty  suffered.  And  Christianity  seeks  not 
the  destruction  of  tliis  power,  nor  docs  it  express  its  preference, 
how  or  by  whom  it  shall  bo  exercisrd.  If  its  subjects  live  under  a 
monarcliy,  as  ihcy  did  in  llic  days  of  A'ero,  it  commands  them  to 
obey,  or  patiently  endure  the  ()cnaliy  when  the  laws  interfere  with 
the  rights  of  conscience,  or  infract  the  immutable  lav\-s  of  God.  If 
they  live  under  an  aristocracy  or  democracy,  or  a  mixture  of  both, 
it  still  commands  them  to  oliey  or  sull'er,  as  before  described.  Its 
voice  is  always  the  same,  and  never  encourages  rebellion,  except 
in  a  case  of  extretne  necessity. 

But  now  comes  the  ten  of  its  principles.     Now  its  voice  is 


1^11.]  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  107 

licartl  above  ihc  water  floods.  It  proclaims  to  all,  high  or  low, 
rich  or  ]ioor,  judge,  legislator,  governor,  president,  king,  or  emperor, 
tlial  if  lliey  violate  the  laws  of  God,  b)'  acts  of  injustice,  oppression, 
crueliv.  iinincrcifulncss,  or  by  invading  each  other's  rights,  they 
are  IielJ  responsible  to  a  higher  Judge,  a  more  impartial  and  awful 
tribunal.  Here  the  voice  of  Christianity  is  clear,  loud,  and  distinct, 
and  its  claims  are  as  unbending  as  the  pillars  of  heaven.  To  all 
tlic  unrighteous,  the  workers  of  iniquitj',  whether  rider  or  ruled,  it 
pronounces  woes,  death,  and  destruction  if  they  repent  not.  Here 
Go(]  is  710  respecter  of  persons.  Without  stopping  to  determine 
what  f^liall  be  the  form  of  the  government,  by  whose  hands  it  shall 
be  ;'.dniinislcred,  by  one,  by  many,  or  few,  it  simply  and  authorita- 
tively prescribes  the  laws  by  which  the  ruler  shall  regulate  his 
conduct.  The  whole  is  summed  up  in  these  comprehensive  words, 
"]lc  that  rulclh  over  men  must  be  just."  Nor  can  any  king, 
cinpcror,  president,  governor,  congress,  or  assembly  violate  this 
unbending  precept  with  impunity.  Tire  truth  of  this  is  attested 
by  ilie  whole  history  of  the  world.  "VA'hat  else  has  worked  the  de- 
struction of  kingdoms  but  acts  of  injustice,  of  rapine,  of  oppression, 
I'f  cruelty,  or  of  invading  those  inalienable  rights  which  belong 
to  men  as  moral,  intellectual,  and  responsible  beings  ?  Let  the 
downfall  of  Babylon,  of  Nineveh,  of  Rome,  of  Greece,  and  many 
i;ihcr  powerful  states,  attest  the  awful  truth,  "  that  sin" — that  the 
tra^^-grcssion  of  those  immutable  laws  which  arise  out  of  our  social 
relations — is  not  only  "a  reproach  to  any  people,"  but  a  sure 
pn'L\irsor  of  the  overthrow  and  destruction  of  coinmonweallhs, 
hininkinis,  and  cmjiires. 

Ili-ro  we  say  the  voice  of  God,  as  it  is  heard  in  Christianity,  is 
ii:>iin(  1  and  awful.  The  poor  may  be  oppressed  in  his  poverty, 
the  rich  may  riot  in  his  riches,  the  subject  or  citizen  may  suffer  in 
his  nnhis  and  privileges,  and  the  njlcr  may  triumph  in  his  acts 
cf  illjll^tice  and  oppression ;  but  if  any  be  wicked  they  shall  be 
j'luiislicd  for  their  unrighteous  deeds,  they  shall  not  escape  the 
vriigiTincc  due  to  their  crimes.  On  the  other  hand,  if  they  all 
•>c  governed,  whatever  their  station,  rank,  or  condition  in  life 
may  be,  by  the  laws  of  justice,  truth,  and  mercy,  they  shall  be 
Messed  in  their  works.  Neither  the  rich  nor  the  poor,  the  ruler 
lii  r  !nr  niled,  shall  be  judged-according  to  his  riches  or  poverty,  or 
l:is  civil  relations,  but  according  to  the  use  he  has  made  of  his 


108  TJie  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

talents,  whether  pliyt^ical,  moral,  intellcrtual,  or  civil.  In  iJiis 
respect  one  law,  one  rule  of  judgment,  is  for  all. 

And  is  it  not  possible  to  conceive  of  a  state  of  society,  organized 
according  to  those  laws  which  necessarily  grow  out  of  our  social 
relations  as  members  of  community,  a  community  recognizing  the 
several  ranks  of  legislative,  judicial,  and  executive  ofHcers,  or,  in 
other  words,  the  rulers  and  the  ruled,  wlicre  all  the  laws  of  justice, 
truth,  and  mercy  are  exemplified  in  practical  Hfe  ?  May  not  the 
ruler  rule  in  righteousness,  and  the  ruled  obey,  from  regard  to  the 
rights  of  all  the  members  of  the  community  ?  May  not  the  rich  be 
just  and  merciful,  while  the  poor  are  actuated  by  the  same  prin- 
ciple 1  Why  may  not  the  niler  and  the  ruled,  the  mechanic,  the 
farmer,  the  merchant,  the  day  laborer,  the  lawyer  and  his  client, 
and  all  otlier  classes  of  society,  feel  the  pressure  of  those  motives 
which  arise  out  of  their  mutual  relations  and  dependences,  and  act 
according  to  the  immutable  j)rinciplcs  of  justice,  truth,  and  brotherly 
love  ?  We  see  no  other  impos.=ibility  of  this  than  what  arises  out 
of  the  perversity  of  human  nature. 

And  let  us  here  remind  our  author  that  Christianity  makes  pro- 
vision for  the  removal  of  even  this  perversity.  Nor  do  we  see  how 
lie  can  evade  this  jxiinl.  It  is,  in  tr\iih,  the  very  point  which  gives 
vitality  to  the  system  he  so  much  admires,  and  invokes  to  his  aid. 
But  it  will  be  jiowcrless,  unless  he  admits  it  as  a  remedial  system. 
As  a  mere  system  of  ethics  it  was  not  needed.  The  world  had  this 
before.  It  is  therefore  as  a  remedy  for  the  evils  he  so  justly  de- 
plores, that  Christianity  shines  so  brightly,  and  so  endears  itseK  to 
man.  A  Christianity  without  a  ("ukist  is  nothing  but  a  name. 
But  a  Christ  is  a  Saviour.  And  what  is  a  Saviour  to  us,  unless 
he  SAVE  us  ?  What  from  ?  Not  from  ignorance,  merelj-,  but  from 
the  greatest  of  all  curses — from  si.v,  from  injustice,  from  vntnith, 
umncrcifulncss,  and  from  all  tlioso  kintU-cd  evils  which  flow  from 
these  cardinal  ones.  And  iln'se  v.ho  are  thus  saved,  whether  they 
be  rich  or  poor,  ruler  or  ruled,  will  always  be  governed  by  those 
principles  which  Christianity  inculcates. 

We  offer  no  apolo.iy  for  these  remarks.  Having  volunteered  his 
confession  of  faitli  in  Christianity,  lie  has  made  himself  responsible 
to  all  its  doctrines,  its  precepts,  and  results.  He  must  take  it  as  it  is. 
He  has  no  right  to  select  that  portion  of  it  wliicli  suits  his  purpose 
as  a  politician,  and  reject  i!ie  rest  as  fabidous,  or  as  the  work  of 


1811.1  Tlic  Rich  against  the  Pocn:  109 

pricstcTuft.  IIo  must  take  the  wliole  or  none.  And  we  hare  no 
p'culcr  wish  in  liis  behalf  tlian  that  he  may  feci  its  saving  power  in 
al!  its  lonL;lli  and  breadth.  If  we  know  our  heart,  and  can  judge  of 
i'.-^  lironijiliiigs,  we  have  not  a  particle  of  ill  will,  not  a  feeling  of 
luisiiliiy  ttiward  him,  but  would  that  he  were  altogether  such  as 
v.c  Mv.  oxccpl  tliosc  infirmities  which  sometimes  oppress  us  in  the 
niid.li.flife. 

j.cl  us  now  ajiproach  another  branch  of  our  subject,  which  our 
auilior  handles  with  more  seeming  severity  than  any  other.  We 
allude  to  liis  censure  upon  priests.  And  here  we  choose  to  meet 
him  again  upon  his  own  ground — upon  Cliristianit}'.  To  teachers  of 
ri.'Iigion  he  has  no  objection.  It  is  to  priests  that  he  brings  his 
most  potent  objections  ;  these,  he  tells  us,  are  the  authors  of  despo- 
tism, the  ui)]ioldcrs  of  tyranny,  the  oppressors  of  the  poor,  and  the 
p.iiidercrs  to  the  rich.  As  before  said,  we  are  quite  willing  to 
granl,  what  no  one  can,  in  truth,  deny,  that  there  have  been 
corrupt  and  wicked  priests,  both  under  the  Old  and  the  New  Tes- 
lamciU  dispensation.  Nay,  we  will  allow  that  there  have  been,  and 
are  now,  despots,  tyrants,  and  oppressors  in  the  priesthood,  and 
tint  wc  have  no  other  justification  or  apology  to  make  for  them, 
llian  such  as  he  would  make  for  the  like  characters  among  civilians. 
Bill  what  we  contend  for  is,  that  such  priests  have  desecrated  their 
oiTice,  violated  their  most  sacred  obligations,  and  perjvu-ed  them- 
selves before  the  altar  of  their  God ;  that  such  hirelings  have  abused, 
and  not  used  aright,  one  of  God's  best  gifts  to  man.  If,  therefore, 
when  M  r.  B.  says  that  priests  are  the  authors  of  despotism,  he  alludes 
to  such  priests,  wc  have  no  controversy  with  him.  Wc  will  assist 
i:i  ciilier  rcfonning  them,  or  of  ridduig  the  church  of  them;  not, 
indeed,  by  cutting  their  throats,  or  confiscating  their  goods,  or 
making  war  upon  them  with  the  temporal  sword,  but  by  pulling 
tl'.tMn  out  of  the  priest's  office. 

These  things  being  conceded  to  satisfy  our  author  that  we  are 
tin  apolr.f,risls  for  iniquity,  even  in  the  priesthood,  we  must  beg  leave 
to  dissent  from  him  when  he  inthnates  that  Christianity  does  not 
recognize  such  an  order  of  men  as  are  styled  priests.  Both  imder 
the  l.iw  and  under  the  gospel — and  the  gospel  is  but  a  new  and 
mi].rovod  edition  of  the  law — there  were  priests,  preachers,  ciders, 
or  pu'-^byiors,  or  bishops;  for  wc  suppose  he  has  too  much  good 
f<--i'sc  to  dispute  about  a  word,  or  a  name  merely,  as  this  would 


110  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

be  a  useless  logomach)',  utterly  unbecoming  a  man  of  sense  and 
candor. 

What  \vc  contend  for  is,  that  Christianity,  in  its  first  estate,  in  its 
most  puie  and  palmy  days,  recognized  an  order  of  men  denomi- 
nated ministers,  or  priests,  if  tlie  Icmi  suit  better,  who  devoted 
themselves  to  teaching  the  people,  and  watching  over  their  siiiritual 
interests  ;  and  that  those  who  tims  "  served  at  the  altar,  were  piar- 
lakcrs  of  the  altar,"  or  in  oilier  words,  those  who  thus  "  communi- 
cated to  the  people  spiritual  things,  received  from  them  of  tlicir 
canial  things."  Even  Jesus  Christ  liimsclf,  who  "  was  a  priest 
for  ever,  after  the  order  of  Melchiscdeck,"  was  ministered  unto 
by  those  pious  women  who  attended  upon  iiis  ministry. 

Who  were  the  apostles  ?  Were  they  not  priests,  according  to 
the  popular  acceptation  of  that  word?  And  were  they  not  sent 
out  by  the  special  command  of  Jesus  Christ  liimsclf?  And  did 
bo  not  say  unto  them,  "  Take  neither  purse  nor  scrip,  nor  have 
two  coals ;"  and  also  forbid  tlicir  going  from  house  to  house,  as 
common  beggars,  assigning  as  a  reason,  that  "the  laborer  is 
worthy  of  his  hire  ?"  This  was  the  beginning  of  Christianity, 
properly  so  called.  And  it  was  j)romu]galcd,  defended,  and  esta- 
blished by  these  ministers  or  first  ambassadors  of  Jesus  Clurist. 
Nor  can  our  author  put  his  finger  upon  a  single  period  of  the 
cluu-ch  in  which  this  order  of  men  was  not  recognized.  And  will 
he  say  that  they  have  always  l)een  despots  ?  Upon  cool  reflec- 
tion, we  think,  he  will  not.  \\'as  Aaron  a  despot  ?  Was  John  the 
Baptist?  To  say  nothing  of  Jesus  Clirist,  who  was  anointed  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor :  were  the  twelve  apostles,  the  very 
expounders  of  Christianity,  and  their  immediate  successors,  lordly 
despots  ?     Truth  will  not  allow  him  to  say  this. 

But  we  will  come  a  little  nearer  home.  We  take  it  that  Mr.  B. 
is  a  son  of  Ncw-J]ngland,  a  descendant  of  the  pilgiams.  And  who 
were  the  pilgrims  ?  Were  tliey  not  those  who  fled  from  the  tpanny 
of  the  old  world  to  seek  an  asyhun  in  the  new?  Were  they  not 
headed  and  led  in  their  bold  and  ijcrilous  enterprise  by  priests  ? 
Tmc,  they  were  persecuted  by  lordly  priests  and  civil  despots  at 
liomc.  But  these  were  among  tiic  cornipt  priests  which  Chris- 
tianity repudiates.  They  were  those  who  ainised  their  profession 
by  lending  their  influence  to  the  support  of  a  civil  despotism,  as 
abliorrcnt  to  the   pniicijiles  of  a   pure  Christianity,  as  were  the 


1841.]  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  Ill 

popes  of  Rome  who  sanctioned  tlic  persecnlion  and  massacre  of 
the  l^rotcstants.  But  surely  those  puritan  ministers,  who  suffered 
a  banishment  from  their  pastoral  charges,  and  expatriated  them- 
selves from  their  comitry  for  the  saJiC  of  a  pure  conscience,  and 
sought  a  refuge  from  the  storms  of  persecution  in  this  howling 
wilderness,  were  not  cruel  despots.  They  and  their  flocks  laid 
the  foundation  for  that  civil  aiid  religious  liberty,  which  has  since 
rehired  itself  in  beauty  and  glory  in  this  western  world.  They 
may,  therefore,  be  considered  as  the  fathers  of  that  very  hberty  which 
we  j)rize  so  highly,  and  which  now  permits  our  author  to  think, 
and  WTite,  and  publish  his  thoughts  without  molestation.  Here, 
then,  are  splendid  exceptions  to  iiis  sweeping  remark,  that  priests 
arc  always  despots.  Not  always,  Jlr.  Brownson,  else  )'oiu: 
coisurcs  had  never,  been  seen,  except  to  light  the  flame  of  your 
funeral  pile.  For  had  it  not  been  for  their  love  of  civil  and  religious 
libcrly,  New-England  would  never  have  been  lighted  with  the  sun 
of  ircedom.  These  bold  and  adventiurous  sons  of  liberty,  who 
crossed  the  occaa  in  search  of  a  habitation  where  they  might  wor- 
ship God  free  from  the  restraints  of  civil  tyrants  and  of  religious 
despots,  were  the  very  men  who  laid  the  foundation  of  that  super- 
structure in  which  the  childi'cn  of  freedom  now  shelter  themselves, 
screened  from  the  scorching  smr  of  religious  persecution,  or  the 
pelting  storms  of  civil  despotism. 

We  might  also  adduce  numberless  instances  in  more  modern 
days,  of  ministers  of  Christianity  who  have  been  among  the 
I'riiihtest  benefactors  of  mankind,  who,  witJiout  the  desire  or  ex- 
pectation of  temporal  emolument,  have  sacrificed  case,  honor,  and 
every  worldly  prospect,  for  the  sake  of  conferring  the  highest  pos- 
sible blessings  upon  their  fellow  men.  But  we  forbear,  lest  we 
might  seem  to  be  offending  against  modesty.  We  conclude,  thcre- 
fi'i-r,  this  tojiic,  by  simply  remarking  tliat  opposition  to  priests  is 
no  new  thing.  Ever  since  the  introduction  of  sin  into  our  world, 
a  war  has  been  waged  against  a  class  of  men  who  were  set  for  the 
^.cfcnse  of  the  truth  ;  and  because  some  in  all  ages  have  been  found 
belonging  to  this  class  who  have  disgraced  the  profession,  the 
wliole  fraternity  have  been  condemned  as  enemies  of  righteousness, 
!i<!  lordly  despots,  or  as  hireling  hypocrites.  And  surely  we  need 
ii"t  iiifurni  tlic  author  of  the  pamphlet  before  us,  that  this  mode  of 
ri.i-oiiing  is  fallacious;  so  much  so,  that  it  would  inevitably  con- 


112  77(6  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [Janimr)^ 

demn  every  good  thing  in  the  luiivcrsc.  Have  not  the  principles 
of  civil  liberty  been  abused  ?  And  will  he  therefore  condemn  and 
proscribe  civil  liberty  ?  His  own  thcorj'  would  not  live  a  moment 
under  such  inconsequent  reasoning. 

What  shall  wc  say  of  matrimony  ?  Is  it  necessarj'  at  this  time  of 
day  to  vindicate  this  ordinance  ?  This  divine,  ordinance  1  Indeed, 
the  author  avows  his  sentiments  on  this  brancli  of  liis  subject  so  ob- 
sciu-ely,  that  he  seems  to  be  stnrlled  at  his  own  position.  Is  it  any 
wonder  ?  Can  any  one  suppose  that  such  a  doctrine  can  be  broached 
without  shocking  the  public  sentiment,  and  exciting  the  indignant 
feelings  of  the  community  against  tlie  system  that  would  sanction  it  ? 

But  here  our  task  is  easy.  Wc  meet  hini  again  on  Christian 
principles.  These  condemn  his  liccnlious  thco^)^  It  need  not  be 
proved,  because  every  believer  in  Christianity  knows  it  to  be  true, 
that  it  forbids  a  promiscuous  intercourse  between  the  sexes.  That 
the  divine  Author  of  Christianity  has  ordained  that  every  man  shall. 
have  his  own  wife — that  a  vwn  shall  forsahe  father  and  mother, 
and  cleave  to  his  wife,  and  thpy  two  shall  he  one  flesh — that  mar- 
riage is  honorable  in  all,  and  Ih''  bed  vndcfdcd,  but  the  luhoremon- 
gers  and  adulterers,  God  shall  judge.  These  are  no  vague  pre- 
cepts, uttered  in  equivocal  language. 

From  the  whole,  then,  wc  conclude  that  Christianity  condemns 
the  theory  we  are  opposing  in  all  its  leading  characteristics.  And 
does  not  reason  do  the  same?  Has  she  ever  uttered  her  voice  in 
behalf  of  that  licentiousness  which  a  dissolution  of  the  maniagc 
covenant  must  inevitably  sanction  ?  \^'Iiere  has  llie  experiment  ever 
been  made  ?  Where  ?  Nowhere,  except  in  the  brain  of  a  few  wild 
fanatics.  But  have  they  not  ended  in  disgrace,  in  a  disruption 
of  society?  How  could  it  be  ollicnvise  ?  When  one  of  the  strongest 
bands  which  bind  society  together  is  broken,  and  the  members 
are  hcensed  to  riot  at  pleasure,  in  all  tlie  wildncss  of  ungovernable 
passion,  what  is  there  left  to  cement  society  together?  When 
all  the  endearing  relations  of  husband  and  wife,  father  and  mother, 
brother  and  sister,  son  and  daughter,  arc  dissolved,  must  not  every 
social  tic  be  sundered,  and  society  itself  be  scattered  to  the  wnds  ? 

With  whom  do  we  reason  ?  Not  widi  a  bnUe.  Had  our  au- 
thor sound  and  indisputable  premises,  no  one  is  capable  of  more 
conclusive  reasoning.  He  is  certainly  no  novice  in  the  science  of 
human  nature,  any  more  than  in  the  art  of  reasoning.     Is  he  then 


)  B41 .]  57(6  Rich  against  the  Poor.  1 1 3 

a  fatlicr  ?  Has  lie  sons  or  daughters  ?  And  is  he  willing  to  bring 
his  tlieory  lo  the  test  of  experiment  in  his  own  family?  All  the 
fceluigs  of  his  nature  slmnk  with  horror  at  the  bare  mention  of  the 
tliins.  But  the  Christianity  in  which  he  professes  his  faith,  bids 
liim  do  as  he  would  be  done  by.  He  cannot,  therefore,  without  a 
violation  of  his  principles,  suffer  that  lo  be  done  to  others,  which 
he  liimself,  in  similar  circumstances,  would  not  have  done  to  him. 

Indeed,  the  proposition  is  so  glaringly  absurd,  that  we  hardly 
know  how  to  meet  and  expose  it.  What  need  is  there  of  this  ? 
Docs  it  not  fuUv  expose  and  refute  hself  ?  As  light  makes  itself 
manifest  by  its  own  shining,  so  there  are  some  errors  so  obvious, 
that  they  need  only  to  be  mentioned  to  be  seen  and  abhorred. 
Their  own  absurdity  is  so  manifest  that  they  require  no  other  refuta- 
tion than  to  be  exhibited  as  they  are.  And  is  it  not  so  in  the  pre- 
sent instance  1  Has  not  the  theoi7  been  condemned  in  all  ages,  by 
all  nations,  bj^  all  religions,  wlielhcr  Jewish,  Christian,  or  Pagan  ? 
8o  universally  condemned,  that  the  severest  penal  laws  have  been 
enacted  against  the  adulterer  ?  And  no  man  who  sustains  the  re- 
lalion  of  a  father,  a  husband,  or  brother,  but  must  rise  instinctively 
and  indignantly  against  the  violators  of  the  conjugal  relations,  and 
frown  upon  that  licentiousness  which  will  result  from  a  dissolution 
of  the  marriage  covenant.  Now,  a  law  so  universally  sanctioned, 
must  be  fomided  in  the  verj'  nature  of  man — must  be  suited  to,  ;md 
hence  originate  from,  the  very  relations  of  human  society.  Its 
transgression,  therefore,  must  be  a  most  flagrant  rebellion  against 
the  laws  of  social  order.  Repeal  then  the  law,  and  the  foundations 
of  society  are  broken  up,  and  all  the  social  relations  arc  at  once 
and  for  ever  dissolved. 

But  while  this  theory  is  too  absiu-d  to  admit  of  logical  refutation, 
tlic  consequences  res\dting  from  it  are  so  tremendously  awful  as 
to  forbid  its  being  passed  over  slightly.  With  all  the  restraints  of 
law,  of  religion,  of  custom,  and  the  evils  of  licentiousness  staring 
us  in  the  face,  how  many  are  nevertheless  carried  away  in  this  im- 
petuous stream  of  iniquity?  What  then  would  be  the  state  of 
society  were  this  law  repealed,  the  sanctions  of  religion  removed, 
and  the  force  of  custom  annihilated  ?  One  desolating  flood-  of  ini- 
quity, of  misery,  and  blood  woidd  sweep  over  the  land,  and  leave 
us  not  a  vestige  of  liberty,  of  religion,  or  social  order  remaining. 
.\11  our  institutions,  civil  and  religious,  would  be  swept  away,  with 


114  Tlie  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [Januarj^ 

the  destruction  of  that  domestic  peace  and  liarinony  arising  out  of 
tlic  niai-riagc  relation.  This  relation,  indeed,  is  the  foundation  of 
all  order,  of  all  social  happiness,  if  not  of  all  civil  and  religious 
privileges  and  enjoyments.  And  yet  to  insure  these  our  author 
would  blot  from  the  statule-bocik  the  laws  which  recognize  and 
regulate  the  solemn  and  endearing  relation  of  liusband  and  wife, 
and  of  course  that  of  father  and  motiier,  brother  and  sister.  This, 
indeed,  is  striking  at  the  root  of  society  at  once  and  for  ever. 

And  then  comes  the  agrarianism  of  Owen,  and  of  other  fanatics 
of  the  same  school.  He  is  willing,  it  is  true,  that  those  who  ac- 
quire property  should  inherit  it  while  they  live.  But  all  hereditary 
properly  is  to  cease,  and  the  state  is  to  take  upon  itself  the  distri- 
bution of  it  after  the  demise  of  those  who  acquired  it.  This  is 
somewhat  different  from  that  connnniiity  of  goods  for  which  some 
wild  visionists  have  pleaded,  and  ^vhich  is  exemjslified  by  the 
Shaking  Quakers,  and  lias  been  attempted  by  a  few  others. 

Docs  he  persuade  himself  thai  he  has  found  a  prototype  of  this  . 
in  the  example  of  the  primitive  Christians?  Nay,  but  this  exam- 
ple is  against  him.  Those  who  already  inherited  the  propert}-, 
whether  by  regidar  descent  or  otherwise,  were  the  persons  who 
voluntarily  "  sold  their  possessions,"  and  brought  the  avails  and 
"  laid  them  at  the  apostles'  feet."  And  that  this  was  a  voluntary 
act  of  their  o\w\\,  for  which  no  command  was  issued  either  by  the 
apostles  or  others,  is  manifest  from  the  words  of  St.  Peter  to  Ana- 
nias :  "  While  it  remained  was  it  not  thine  own  ?  and  after  it  was 
sold  was  it  not  in  thine  own  power  ?"'  They  were  therefore  under 
no  obligation  to  make  this  sacrifirc  of  their  property  for  the  gene- 
ral good  ;  and  it  seems  that  it  formed  no  precedent  for  the  future 
action  of  the  church,  for  we  hear  no  more  of  its  being  sanctioned 
either  by  precept  or  example — a  proof  this  that  it  was  foimd  an 
inconvenient  and  \mprofitable  way  of  investing  property.  And  the 
epistles  of  St.  Paul  demonstrate  that  he  and  iiis  coadjutors  recog- 
nized the  right  of  individual  pro])crly  by  their  addresses  to  the 
rich,  and  the  charities  which  they  exhorted  them  to  bestow  to 
supply  the  wants  of  the  poor. 

How  soon,  indeed,  would  all  motives  to  industiy,  to  economy, 
and  to  all  restraints  upon  profliiracy  be  removed  were  such  a  sys- 
tem to  be  introduced.  Not  only  docs  Chrislianiiy  condemn  this 
mode  of  procedure,  but  all  history,  all  experience,  and  the  philoso- 


jgtl.)  The  J\ich  against  the  Poor.  115 

phy  of  human  nature  rise  up  against  it.  This,  however,  is  neces- 
hary  for  llie  perfection  of  our  author's  plan  for  levchng  all  distinc- 
lions  ill  society,  and  making  all  equally  independent,  by  making 
thciii  ccjually  rich  and  equally  poor.  But  as  the  plan  itself  is 
wholly  impracticable,  so  the  means  to  effect  it  can  never  be  de- 

f.'M.ird. 

So  far  \vc  have  tested  the  author's  principles  mainly  by  Chris- 
tiinity — not  indeed  bj'  any  of  its  disputed  doctrines,  but  by  those 
prcccjils  about  which  there  can  be  little  or  no  controversy.  Of 
this  mode  of  trj-ing  his  theorj'  he  has  no  riglit  to  complain.  Being 
a  believer  in  Clrristianity,  and  deriving  liis  knowledge  of  it  from 
the  Bible,  to  the  Bible  he  must  go.  Its  history,  its  morahty,  its 
civil  and  religious  precepts  all  condemn  him. 

But  will  not  his  coimtry  also  condemn  him  ?  He  has  appealed 
to  Ay.'icricfms.  Their  patriotism  he  invokes  to  sanction  and  aid 
liini  in  his  career  of  reform.  And  what  does  his  country  say  to 
liim  '  ^^'hat  speaks  its  historj'  ?  lie  wiU  allow,  it  is  thought, 
thai  here  there  is  as  much  civil  and  religious  freedom  found  as  in 
any  olher  country.  How  came  it  here  ?  Did  it  originate  in  the 
jirincijiles  for  which  he  pleads  ?  Did  oiu:  revolutionar}'  fathers 
fight  for  the  purpose  of  estabhshing  such  a  system  of  government 
as  that  for  which  he  contends  ?  Surely  not.  If  they  did  they 
fought  in  vain.  Such  an  object,  according  to  our  author's  own 
showing,  was  not  attained.  Though  they  have  seciu-ed  as  great  a 
di'un  e  of  ci\-il  and  religious  liberty  as  any  reasonable  man  would 
wish  to  enjoy,  they  achieved  it,  not  by  annihilating  all  distinctions 
in  (iiK-iety,  by  destroying  priests,  by  enacting  such  laws  as  should 
pr<-vc:it  a  man,  by  his  own  industT)^  and  economy,  from  acquiring 
\M'::!!h.  and  of  transmitting  it  to  his  descendants,  much  less  by 
di'-sclving  the  marriage  relation. 

Were  they  novices  in  political  economy?  Did  they,  for  the 
want  of  wisdom,  establish  a  despotism? 

But  suppose  that  our  author  could  succeed  in  effecting  his  ob- 
ject by  llic  means  he  sanctions  ;  what  would  be  the  result  ?  Surely 
lie  is  not  so  lost  to  common  sense  as  to  suppose  that  perfect  equal- 
ity could  long  subsist.  In  that  dreadful  conflict,  that  war  which  is 
to  ri2('  with  unprecedented  fury,  with  a  violence  such  as  the  world 
ncuT  witnessed,  who  is  to  command  the  armies  ?  Is  every  man 
lo  "  liiihi  on  hid  own  hook  ?"     Is  each  man  to  single  out  his  man. 


116  TliC  Rich  against  Ow' Poor.  [Jamiai}', 

and  fight  his  fellow  face  to  face  ?  If  not,  tlicre  must  be  ofSccrs;, 
superior  and  inferior.  But  there  can  lie  no  officers  without  com- 
mon soldiers.  And  when  the  vicloiy  is  achieved,  how  is  the  state 
to  be  governed?  Is  evciy  man  to  do  what  is  right  in  liis  own 
eyes  ?  Does  he  flatter  lu'mself  that  when  the  laws  of  matrimony 
are  all  repealed,  the  rights  of  hereditary  property  annihilated,  the 
distinctions  between  the  rich  and  poor  destroyed,  and  the  rela- 
tions of  hirer  and  hired  dissolved,  that  mankind  will  be  so  pure,  so 
upright,  and  so  peaceable  in  tlicir  dispositions,  that  they  will  not 
need  the  restraints  of  law,  the  sanctions  of  religion,  or  the  power 
of  a  civil  government?  This,  indeed,  would  be  a  paradise  ;  yet  is 
it  not  a  "  paradise  of  fools  ?"  Let  the  horrors  of  revolutionary 
France  answer  this  question.  May  it  never  receive  such  another 
answer !  The  despotism  of  a  Noro  and  the  despotism  of  a  mob 
are  alike  to  be  dreaded.  Tliey  have  both  been  exemplified  in 
practice,  the  one  in  Rome,  and  the  other  in  Paris.  Do  we  need 
another  drama  of  a  like  characlrr  to  convince  us  of  the  hoiTid 
results  of  such  lawless  violence  ?  If  Napoleon  established  a 
despotism  in  France,  it  was  because  such  principles  as  are  advo- 
cated by  Mr.  Bro\\mson  had  made  it  necessarj'.  The  despotism 
of  the  many,  maddened  witli  rage  against  the  rulers,  the  priests, 
the  rich,  and  all  who  opposed  them  in  their  career  of  blood,  became 
so  intolerable,  that  .the  peojile  were  glad  to  exchange  it  for  the 
despotism  of  a  military  chieftain.  And  the  iron  rod  of  Bonaparte 
was  a  thousand  times  more  lenient  than  the  bloody  giiillotinc  of 
Robespierre  and  his  Jacobinical  clubs.  The  fury  of  the  populace 
became  so  irresistible,  so  vonicions  of  human  blood,  and  rose  to 
such  a  pitch  of  um-estrained  frenzy,  that  nothing  could  prevent 
France  from  becoming  an  Aceldama,  a  field  of  blood,  but  the  strong 
arm  of  a  military  despot.  Tlii.<  alone  controlled  the  raging  ele- 
ments, and  stayed  the  devastating  .storm  which  was  sweeping  over 
the  land  with  a  resistless  and  mo'^t  destructive  fury. 

And  shall  we  invoke  such  a  storm  here  ?  Are  the  American 
people  prepared  for  a  catastrophe  so  dreadful  ?  Are  they  ready  to 
sacrifice  the  consiiiution  and  laws  of  their  country  to  such  a  I\Io- 
loch  as  this  ?  Will  they  surrender  up  their  laws,  their  religion, 
their  civil  and  domestic  institutions,  at  the  command  of  him  who 
borrows  his  ideas  of  law  and  onier  from  an  example  so  terrible  ? 
If  so,  then  did  our  fathers  suffer,  and  bleed,  and  die  in  vain.    Then 


IS  11.]  Tlte  Rich  against  the  Poor.  117 

h.ivo  \vc  lived  to  no  purpose.  The  e.Yperimcnt  of  free  govemmenl 
lias  in-Dved  a  f;iilurc,  if  mdeed  it  must  now  be  exchanged  for  the 
visioii.s  <jf  our  author. 

Are  we  loo  serious  and  too  much  in  earnest  upon  this  subject'? 
l.<  there,  in  truth,  no  danger  to  bo  apprehended  from  putting  afloat 
."iich  doctrines?  Does  not  every  body  know  how  easy  it  is  to 
iiillanie  the  passions  of  the  populace  ?  Let,  then,  the  poor  classes, 
the  working  classes,  who  always  form  the  gTeat  majority  of  any 
and  every  coimtry,  be  persuaded  that  their  rulers  are  crael  op- 
pressors; that  tlie  rich  are  tjTrants;  that  all  priests  are  despots;  that 
t!ie  laws  of  matrimony  are  arbitrary;  that  all  day-laborers  are 
slaves,  deprived  of  their  natural  rights  by  those  who  pay  them 
wages;  how  soon  would  the  fearful  catastrophe  aiTive  which  would 
cud  in  such  a  war  "as  the  world  never  witnessed !"  And  is  this 
the  consummation  of  our  hopes?  Alas  for  the  day  that  shall 
bring  such  tidings  to  our  ears  !  The  day  shall  be  enrolled  in  the 
calendar  of  our  histoi-y  as  the  day  of  blood — as  the  day  ni  which 
the  epitaph  of  om-  national  histoiy  shall  be  written. 

But  who  shall  write  it?  Who  is  to  survive  this  loniversal  car- 
nage? Who  will  tell  the  story  of  our  wrongs  to  posterity  ?  Either 
a  despot  or  his  slave.  For  those  who  can  be  guilty  of  such  horrid 
deeds  \\ill  not  spare  the  tree  of  hberty.  Iliunan  blood  and  gore, 
shed  in  such  a  cause,  never  yet  niurliured  such  a  tree.  No,  indeed  ! 
ll  will  have  been  plucked  up  by  the  same  ruffian  hands  that  spilt 
the  blood  of  those  who  stood  in  the  way  of  their  revolutionary 
chariot.  This  chariot,  its  wheels  reddened  with  the  blood  of  the 
slain,  will  roll  on  until  some  military  despot  shall  mount  the  fiery 
car,  and,  seizing  the  reins  of  the  furious  steeds,  will  drive  fiercely 
over  llie  fair  plains  of  American  freedom.  And  will  not  all  the 
nisiiiulions,  civil  and  religious,  which  now  stand  as  monuments  of 
that  spirit  of  liberty  which  actuated  the  souls  of  their  foiuidcrs,  be 
prostrated  before  his  resistless  sway  ? 

Is  this  a  fancy  picture  ?  Has  it  not  been  drawn  to  the  hfe  a 
thousand  times  ?  Has  not  wild  democracy,  like  that  depicted  by 
our  author,  always,  in  every  coimtry  and  in  every  age,  ended  m 
cither  a  civil  or  a  inihtar}'^  despotism  ?  Where  is  the  exception  ? 
It  cannot  be  -otherwise.  There  is  no  other  way  to  control  the 
niad.kncd  frenzy  of  the  multitude  ;  else  would  they  wade  in  blood 
uiiiil  ilierc  were  no  more  victims  to  be  devoured. 
Vol.  I.— 8 


118  TJic  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

Let,  then,  tlie  people  of  America  look  to  this.  If  their  rulers 
are  corrupt  and  wicked,  cither  reform  them,  or  supply  their  place 
with  better.  Let  Clirisliaiiity,  in  its  powerful  influence  upon  the 
lieai't  and  conscience,  pm-ify  the  mass,  and  then  let  ihem,  in  the 
lawful  exercise  of  the  elective  franchise,  put  those  men  into  ofRce 
who  will  regard  the  laws  of  justice,  of  wisdom,  of  truth,  and  mercy. 
For  the  exercise  of  this  riglit,  Got!  has  made  tiic  people  of  America 
responsible.  Lei  ihem  discharge  iheir  duty  or  suffer  the  conse- 
quences. 

Tlic  writer  of  this  article  deplores  as  deeply,  he  presumes  to 
think,  as  any  one  can,  all  abuses  of  power,  of  privilege,  of  riches, 
or  of  povert}'.  He  deplores  more  especially  the  rnulual  crimina- 
tions among  the  political  partisans  of  the  day,  and  thinks  that  the 
perpetual  ringing  upon  the  changes,  "  Corruption  !  CoiTuption  !" 
is  calculated  to  induce  that  very  corruption  eacli  one  professes  to 
deprecate.  And  if  one  half  that  is  said  by  one  party  against  the 
other  were  tme,  one  might  conclude  thai  iiehher  is  ill  lo  hve.  This 
ceaseless  war  of  recrimination  ior  mere  parly  purposes  is  imwisc 
— it  is  wicked,  unless,  indeed,  the  facts  are  proved  true.  Does  it 
not  tend  most  inc\ilably  to  destroy  all  confidence  in  the  rising 
generation  in  rulers  ?  Docs  it  not  hence  tend  to  rebellion,  to  revo- 
lution, to  an  annihilation  of  all  order,  of  all  government  ?  And 
when  these  are  gone,  what  have  wc  left  but  anarchy  ?  what  but 
the  ver)'  war  and  bloodshed  wliich  our  aullior  so  coolly  and  delibe- 
rately invokes  ? 

Though  no  party  politicians,  we  are  Americans.  We  are  lovers 
of  our  country.  Wc  love  its  institutions,  civil  and  religious.  We 
trust  we  venerate  the  men  who  achieved  our  national  independence. 
We  therefore  deplore  any  malversation  in  any  department  of  the 
government,  either  in  the  stales  or  the  general  government,  either 
in  the  judicial,  legislative,  or  executive ;  or  any  mal-praclices 
among  the  people,  whether  ihcy  be  rich  or  poor,  whether  in  civil 
or  religious  society.  And  wc  fully  bcheve  there  is  but  one  way 
to  prevent,  or,  where  they  exist,  to  do  away  these  and  the  like 
evils.  How  much  soever  our  author  may  seem  to  sneer — for  he 
does  seem  to  do  so— at  the  thought  that  Christianity,  as  it  is  pro- 
mulgated in  the  Bible,  is  to  work  a  cure  of  moral  and  political 
evils,  we  believe  it  is  ilic  only  effectual  remedy,  and  wc  believe  it 
is  a  remedy.     Let  its  powerful  iniths  be  felt,  let  them  enter  the 


15J41.]  'llic  Rich  against  the  Poor.  119 

/tcMl,  let  tliein  inform  the  judgment  and  legulale  the  life,  control 
the  jxissions  and  rule  the  conduct,  and  all  shall  be  well.  Let  llic 
rnlcr  and  liic  ruled,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  be  governed  by  these 
iniili-,  ;iik1  ilio  rights  of  all  arc  secured. 

Wliii  tloubls  this  ?  Let  such  read  Christianity,  and  have  their 
diiubis  removed.  Jlclicvf,  love,  and  ohei/.  These  are  the  cardi- 
nal ilutics  which  Christianity  enjoins.  Vvlio  doubts  the  salutary 
jntiiKiice  of  these  virtues?  Let  him  try  them.  Let  him  believe 
ill  Gwl  our  Saviour,  love  liim  and  his  neighbor,  and  obci/  the  coni- 
nruid,  Do  as  you  would,  be  done  by,  and  all  shall  be  well. 

If  we  have  not  mistaken  the  character  of  the  tract  before  us,  its 
d(jctnncs  axe  fraught  with  the  most  alarming  consequences.  Wo 
may,  indeed,  speculate  coolly  in  our  closets,  and  publish  our 
speculations  to  the  world  ;  but  once  let  tliem  be  reduced  to  prac- 
licc,  what  .will  be  the  result?  What  would  be  the  result  of  om- 
author's  ihcor}'  ?  What  ?  Why,  according  to  his  own  showing, 
"  such  a  war  as  the  world  never  witnessed." 

Now  the  question  is,  can  wo  look  on  with  indifference,  and  see 
.such  (h)ctriiics  promulgated  ?  We  may  think  they  are  too  absurd  or 
!of)  contcm])tible  to  demand  om:  notice.  The)'  do  indeed  seem  so 
10  sober  thought.  Yet  what  absurdity  has  not  gained  its  prose- 
lytes— in  religion,  in  philosophy,  in  civil  matters  ?  He  must  be 
i]uilc  ignorant  of  human  nature,  and  of  history,  its  best  and  surest 
inlcqirctcr,  who  does  not  know  tliat  in  all  ages  mankind  liavc  been 
the  dupes  of  sophistry,  of  errors  the  most  revolting,  and  of  dogmas 
tlic  most  absurd  and  incredible.  And  have  we  not  a  proof  of  this 
m  the  very  book  before  us  ?  Wlien  have  we  seen  more  monstrous 
dociriiics  put  forth  ?  And  not  by  a  novice ;  not  in  jest ;  but  in 
^ohcr  earnest ;  by  an  enlightened  mind ;  in  great  seriousness  and 
•■arneslncss  ;  and  in  a  style  at  once  elegant  and  captivating.  Shall 
we  pause  liere,  and  ask  ourselves  how  these  things  can  be  ?  There 
i--  no  need  of  this.  The  thing  has  been  done,  however  inadequate 
we  may  be  to  account  for  it.  ■  The  poison  has  been  concocted  and 
in^oniously  mixed  to  suit  the  palates  of  a  certain  class  of  readers, 
and  so  carefully  covered  over  with  the  sugar  of  love  to  them,  that 
!hey  are  ready  to  swallow  it  without  asking  a  question  about  it. 
>li ill  we  allow  them  to  do  it  without  warning  them  of  their  danger? 

l.i't  the  press  speak  out  in  tones  of  thunder.  Let  its  conductors 
rruiembcr   their  high  responsibility.     On  them  rests,  in  a  great 


120  Tlic  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

measure,  the  duty  of  warning  ihc  people  against  the  approacli  of 
the  enemies  of  our  couiUry.  Let  tliem  tlicn  confine  themselves 
to  facts,  and  not  amuse  their  readers  with  visionary  theories  re- 
specting the  heau  ideal  of  an  impracticable  government — of  a  state 
of  society  that  never  has  been  and  never  can  be  realized.  Let 
them  lift  up  their  voice  against  injustice,  fraud,  falsehood,  and  all 
those  evils  originating  from  that  restless  disposition  which  is  per- 
petually seeking  for  change.  If  these  were  unitedly  to  proclaim  a 
war  against  "  all  ungodliness  and  unrighteousness  of  men,"  whether 
in  high  or  low  places,  whether  among  the  rich  or  the  poor,  in  the 
ruler  or  the  ruled,  we  shouM  soon  see  a  change  come  over  society 
of  a  most  salutary  and  cheering  character.  If,  instead  of  endea- 
voring to  render  each  other  fxlions  as  political  opponents,  or  as 
mere  sectarists  in  religion,  they  were  unitedly  to  condemn  the 
evil  wherever  it  is  fou]id,  and  justify  the  good  among  all  parties, 
their  wholesome  infiuence  -would  soon  be  felt  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land.  And  is  this  too  much  to  hope  ?  Why 
should  it  be  ?  There  arc  many  virtuous  men,  we  doubt  not,  in 
both  political  parties,  among  all  sects  and  denominations,  that  nov; 
control  the  press,  who  see  and  deplore  the  evils  of  this  mere  partisan 
warfare.  Let  these  set  the  example.  Let  them  then  summon 
their  brethren  to  the  work.  They  will,  unless  wc  much  misin- 
terpret the  public  feeling,  find  themselves  nobly  sustained  by  a 
large  and  influential  portion  of  the  American  community.  But 
should  they  fail  of  accomplishing  their  object,  they  will  have  de- 
served well  of  their  countr)',  and  their  high  example  will  be  quoted 
for  the  benefit  of  posterity. 

If  our  voice  could  be  heard,  we  would  "cr^^  aloud  and  spare 
not,"  and  call  upon  all,  from  Maine  to  Louisiana,  to  come  forth  and 
harness  themselves  for  the  great  moral  combat  against  anarchists 
of  every  description,  whether  in  the  church  or  state.  To  one  and 
all  we  would  say.  Lay  aside  debate  concerning  minor  differences, 
and  hoisting  the  flag  of  union,  on  one  side  let  the  motto  be.  Our 
country,  all  far  our  counhy,  and  on  the  other,  Oiir  religion,  all 
for  our  religion — for  tlie  peace  and  prosperity  of  the  one  depend 
on  the  success  and  stability  of  the  other.  To  the  support  of  this 
sentiment,  let  us  append  ih.e  following  from  Washington's  Farewell 
Address  : — "  Of  all  the  dispositions  and  habits  which  lead  to  pohti- 
cal  prosperity,  religion  and  morals  are  the  indispensable  supports. 


J  8-11.]  Tiic  Rich  against  tlic  Poor.  121 

III  \aiii  v.-oulJ  that  iiian  claim  llic  tribute  of  patriotism  \\\\o  should 
!;il)or  to  subvert  these  great  pillars  of  human  happiness,  these  firm- 
est jirops  of  the  duties  of  men  and  of  citizens.  The  mere  politi- 
cian, equally  with  the  pious  man,  ought  to  respect  and  cherish 
ihcni.  A  volume  could  not  trace  all  their  connections  with  private 
and  public  felicity.  Let  it  simply  be  asked,  Where  is  the  sccunty 
for  proj)crty,  for  reputation,  for  life,  if  the  sense  of  religious  obhga- 
tion  desert  the  oaths  which  are  the  instruments  of  investigation  in 
i-ouris  of  justice  ?  And  let  us  with  caution  indulge  the  supposition 
lli:;t  morality  can  be  maintained  without  religion.  Whatever  may 
be  conceded  to  the  influence  of  refined  education  on  minds  of  pe- 
culiar structure,  reason  and  experience  both  forbid  us  to  expect 
that  national  morality  can  prevail  in  exclusion  of  religious  prin- 
ciples." 

To  those  who  arc  imbued  with  this  spirit  of  patriotism,  these 
pages  are  dedicated,  in  the  humble  hope  that  they  may  contribute 
at  least  a  mite  toward  ,thc  presen-ation  of  our  civil  and  religious 
hberlics.  Nor  do  we  despair  of  convincing  even  the  author  of  the 
j)aniphlel  we  have  been  reviewing  of  tlie  error  and  impracticability 
of  his  scheme.  His  mind,  we  trust,  is  open  to  conviction.  We 
arc  willing  to  believe  him  a  lover  of  his  country,  and  that  he  has 
persuaded  himself  to  believe  that  he  seeks  its  welfare  while  he  de- 
nounces the  evils  of  which  he  complains.  He  certainly  cannot 
cooly  and  deliberately  wish  evil  to  the  land  of  his  birth.  He  has, 
tlu-rcforc,  in  the  heat  of  party  politics,  suffered  his  judgment  to  be 
UTiriK  d  liy  erroneous  views,  and  has  invoked  means  to  accomplish 
ills  oliject,  which,  in  a  more  dispassionate  moment,  he  will  con- 
demn and  repudiate.  Let  him  then  be  dealt  with  as  a  fellow-citi- 
zen whose  en-ing  judgment  may  be  changed  by  the  force  of  truth, 
and  lie  will,  it  may  be  hoped,  be  brouglit  back  to  the  path  which 
h.is  iii'cn  marked  out  by  experience,  and  trodden  by  the  wise  and 
good  iu  all  ages. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  we  cannot  doubt  that  there  is  good  sense 
mongh  in  the  American  community,  as  well  as  virtue,  to  resist  -all 
such  attempts  to  revolutionize  our  country,  by  uprooting  those  insti- 
luiioiis  under  the  protection  and  influence  of  which  wc  have  been 
Fo  long  and  so  greatly  blessed. 

"  e  cannot  conclude  our  remarks  more  appropriately  than  in  the 
words  of  the  father  of  his  country  in  the  admirable  address  from 


122  The  Rich  against  the  Poor.  [January, 

■\vliicli  v.'c  have  already  quoted;  and  of  his  love  for  his  country's 
welfare  he  has  left  behind  him  the  most  indubitable  evidence.  He 
says  — 

"  Toward  the  prcsei-vation  of  your  government,  and  the  perma- 
nency of  yoiu:  present  hapjiy  state,  it  is  reqiiisite  not  only  that  you 
steadily  discountenance  irregular  opjiositions  to  its  acknowledged 
authority,  but  also,  that  you  resist  with  care  the  spirit  of  innovation 
upon  its  principles,  however  specious  the  pretexts.  One  method 
of  asiaull  may  be  to  cflcct  in  the  forms  of  constitution  alterations 
which  will  impair  the  energy  of  the  system,  and  thus  to  undermine 
what  cannot  be  directly  overthrown.  In  all  the  changes  to  which 
you  may  be  invited,  remember  that  lime  and  habit  at  least  arc  as 
necessary  to  fix  the  true  character  of  governments,  as  of  other 
human  institutions  ;  that  experience  is  the  smTst  standard  by  which 
to  test  the  real  tendency  of  ihc  e.x.isliiig  constitutions  of  the  coun- 
try ;  that  facility  of  chang'-'-"'>  "po"  ihc  credit  of  mere  hypothesis 
and  opinion,  exposes  to  perpetual  change,  from  the  endless  variety 
of  hypothesis  and  opinion  ;  and  remember,  especially,  that  for  the 
efficient  management  of  your  common  interests,  in  a  country  so 
extensive  as  ours,  a  government  of  as  nuicli  vigor  as  is  consistent 
■with  the  perfect  security  of  liberty,  is  indispensable.  Liberty  itself 
will  find  in  such  a  govcnunenl,  with  jiowers  properly  distributed 
and  adjusted,  its  sinxst  guardian.  It  is,  indeed,  little  else  than  a 
name,  where  the  government  is  too  feeble  to  withstand  the  enter- 
prises of  faction,  to  confuie  each  member  of  the  society  within  the 
limits  prescribed  by  the  laws,  and  to  maintain  all  in  the  secure  and 
tranquil  enjoyment  of  the  rights  of  person  and  property." 


1^11.)  Christian  Perfection. 


Art.  W. — 1-  ^'1  Ploi'i  Account  of  Christian  Perfection,  as  believed 
and  ttiirjht  hi/  the  Rev.  Jon\  ^VESLEY,  from  the  year  1725  to 
the  t/rar  1777. 

-.  'l'h>  Last  Check  to  Antinornianism.  A  Polemical  Essay  on  the 
Tinii  Doctrines  of  Christian  Jmperfection  and  a  Death  Purga- 
lori/.  Bi/  the  Author  of  the  Checks.  [Found  in  llic  Works  of 
l)ic  Ivev.  John  Fletcher.] 

;).  Entire  Sanciif  cation :  or,  Christian  Perfection,  stated  and  de- 
fended by  Rev.  J.  Wesley,  Rev.  A.  Watmough,  Rev.  Dr.  A. 
Clauice,  Rev.  R.  Watsox,  nnJ  Rev.  R.  Treffhy.  Baltimore  : 
Ariiislrong  6c  Berr}'.     Woods,  Printer.     1838. 

•1.  A  Treatise  on  Christian  Perfection,  by  Richard  Treffry. 
.Second  edition.  London  :  Published  by  Jolm  Mason.  ISmo. 
1S3S. — pp.  250. 

The  subject  of  entire  sanctifcation  is,  wc  arc  liapp)'  to  say,  at 
i!io  ]!reseiit  tiinc  exciting  great  interest  in  tlie  churches  of  tliis  coun- 
irv.  And  no^v  that  many  in  other  churches  are  waking  up  to 
the  real  importance  and  Scriptural  character  of  this  doctrine,  it  is 
icnainly  no  lime  for  Jletliodists,  who  have  cherished  it  from  the 
beginning,  cillier  to  leave  it  in  the  back  ground,  or  to  swerve  from 
ili>'  true  position  of  our  venerated  fathers  and  our  standards  of  doc- 
tiiiie  upon  the  subject. 

It  is  not  so  much  with  a  view  to  cast  new  light  upon  this  great 
doctrine,  as  to  contriljute  our  humble  mite  toward  keeping  it  before 
■jiir  readers,  that  we  midcrtakc  this  review  at  the  present  time. 
The  true  Methodist  ground  was  so  clearly  staled,  and  so  ably  de- 
!'■  !iii-d,  ;ind  tlie  whole  subject  so  thoroughly  investigated,  by  Messrs. 
\\\-.>'!oy  and  Fletcher,  tlial  but  little  has  been  done  by  subsequent 
^•.  riters  of  the  same  views  but  to  repeat  what  they,  in  the  same  lan- 
L".i.n:;c,  or  in  substance,  liad  written.  And  though  tliese  authors  did 
i.ol  deal  in  dogmatical  assertions  or  mystical  vagaries,  but  gave  the 
Mibjcct  a  plain,  common  sense,  and  Scriptiu-al  exposition,  and  sub- 
t't'iiitialcd  their  positions  by  the  word  of  God  and  matter  of  fact, 
liieir  views  have  been  misrepresented  by  enemies,  and,  in  some  in- 
'iiiices,  misunderstood  by  friends.  And  may  it  not  be  fairly 
•''•ubtrd  whether,  as  a  people,  we  have  not  regarded  it  more  as  a 
■'■-^■iriiinl  speculation  than  an  affair  of  the  heart  and  life?  We  have 
•  "^i'l-i-^ili'd  nobly  for  the  doctrine  from  the  pulpit  and  from  the  press, 
!'Ul  wh-TM  arc  the  witnesses  that  the  blood  of  Jesus  Clurist  cleanses 


124  CJiristian  Perfection.  tJanuarj', 

from  all  sin  ?  It  is  matter  of  joy,  iiulccd,  that  many  such  can  be 
found,  but  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  their  number,  in  comparison 
with  the  gi'cat  mass  of  Methodists,  is  so  very  small.  For  if  our 
view  is  the  con-cct  one,  instead  of  finding  here  and  there  an  indi- 
vidual instance  of  this  blessing — "  like  angels'  visits,  few  and  far 
between" — we  ought  to  be  a  Itoly  people. 

It  does,  ho\vcvcr,  appear  that  the  luorh  of  Jtoliness  is  reviving 
among  us.  Instances  of  entire  sanctification  ara  multiplying,  and 
it  is  not  a  strange  thing  to  hear  clear,  soljer,  and  Scriptural  profes- 
sions of  that  blessed  slate  among  our  people.  These  professions, 
instead  of  calling  forth  severe  criticism  and  merciless  contempt, 
meet  a  ready  response  in  many  hearts,  and  awaken  an  undying  so- 
licitude in  multitudes  to  know  the  truth  and  power  of  this  great 
salvation  for  themselves. 

In  furtherance  of  this  great  oliject,  we  shall  endeavor  to  bring 
before  the  reader,  from  the  works  whose  titles  we  have  exhibited  at 
the  head  of  this  article,  the  great  leading  principles  of  this  general 
subject,  so  stated,  arranged,  and  defended,  as  to  help  the  serious 
inquirer  to  a  more  easy  and  full  apprehension  of  the  nature  of  sanc- 
tification, and  the  way  of  making  this  knowledge  experimentally 
and  practically  available.  In  doing  this,  we  shall  observe  the  fol- 
lowing order,  viz. : 

1.  Define  the  doclrinc.  2.  Answer  objections.  3.  Adduce 
proof.  4.  Show  the  way  by  which  entire  holiness  may  be  attained. 
5.  Present  motives  to  sock  it.  C>.  Sliow  the  course  of  conduct  ap- 
propriate to  those  who  may  have,  attained  to  this  blessed  state. 

In  reference  to  a  state  of  entire  sanctification,  our  authors  employ 
the  term,  Te?.f.'or,  perfection,  because  it  is  a  Scriptural  tenn,  and 
properly  expresses  what  they  mean.  But  lest  some  foreign  and 
fanciful  sense  should  be  given  to  tlic  term  in  this  connection,  our 
authors  proceed  lo  defme  and  limit  its  use,  when  applied  to 
Christian  character  and  experience. 

The  following  questions  and  answers,  from  Mr.  Wesley's  "  Plain 
Account  of  Christian  Perfection,"  will  sliuv,-  what  were  his  views 
upon  the  sul'jcct : — 

•'  Qi-.>TI0N-.  What  is  Christinii  pc-i  fL-ction  ? 

"Answi:!;.  The  lovini:  God  "iili  :i!l  our  heart,  mind,  soul,  and 
slrenglli.  This  implies  that  no  ^vroIlrr  tniipcr,  none  contrary  to  love, 
remains  in  the  soul ;  anJ  ih:;t  all  the  thoughts,  words,  and  actions,  are 
governed  by  pure  lovo. 


J641.]  Christian  Perfection.  125 

"  QursT.  Do  you  afllrni  that  lliis  perfection  excludes  all  infirmities, 
iy;noraiice,  and  mistake  ? 

"Ans.  I  continually  affirm  quite  the  contrary,  and  always  have 
dono  so. 

'•  Qur.sT.  But  how  can  every  thought,  word,  and  work,  be  governed 
by  pure  love,  and  the  man  be  subject  at  the  same  time  to  ignorance 
and  mistake  ? 

"  Ans.  I  see  no  contradiction  here  :  '  A  man  may  be  filled  with  pure 
love,  and  still  be  liable  to  mistake.'  Indeed,  I  do  not  expect  io  be 
freed  from  actual  mistakes  till  tliis  mortal  puts  on  immortality.  I  be- 
lieve this  to  be  a  natural  consequence  of  the  soul's  dwelling  in  fiesh 
and  blood,  f'or  we  cannot  now  think  at  all,  but  by  the  mediation  of 
those  bodily  organs  which  have  suficred  equally  with  the  rest  of  our 
frame.  And  hence  we  cannot  avoid  somelimcs  thinking  wrong,  till 
this  corruptible  shall  have  put  on  incorruption." 

Jlr.  Fletclier  says  : — 

"  The  perfection  we  preach  is  nothing  but  perfect  repentance,  per- 
fi'ct  faiili,  and  perfect  love,  productive  of  the  gracious  tempers  which 
St.  Paul  himself  describes,  1  Cor.  xiii." 

Dr.  Clarke,  says  : — 

"  This  perfection  is  the  restoration  of  man  to  the  state  of  holiness 
from  which  he  fell,  by  creating  him  anew  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  reslorins; 
to  him  that  image  and  likeness  of  God  which  he  has  lost.  A  higher 
meaning  than  this  it  cannot  have  ;  a  lower  meaning  it  must  not  have. 
God  made  him  in  that  degree  of  perfection  which  was  pleasing  to  his 
own  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness.  Sin  defaced  this  divine  image  : 
Jesus  came  to  restore  it.  Sin  must  have  no  triumph;  and  the  Ke- 
dcenier  of  mankind  must  have  his  glory.  But  if  man  be  not  perfectly 
saved  from  all  siii,  sin  does  triumph,  and  Satan  exult,  because  they 
liavc  done  a  mischief  that  Christ  either  cannot  or  will  not  remove. 
To  say  he  cannot,  would  be  shocking  blasj)hcniy  against  the  infinite 
power  and  dignity  of  the  great  Creator ;  to  say  he  will  not,  w  ould  be 
equally  such  against  the  infinite  benevolence  and  holiness  of  his  nature. 
All  sin,  wlielher  in  power,  guilt,  or  defilement,  is  tlie  work  of  the  devil ; 
and  he,  Jesus,  came  to  destroy  the  work  of  the  devil ;  and  as  all  un- 
righteousness is  sin,  so  his  blood  cleaaseth  from  all  sin,  because  it 
clcanscth  from  all  unriglueousness. 

"  Many  stagger  at  the  term  perfection  in  Christianity  ;  because  they 
ihink  that  what  is  implied  in  it  is  inconsistent  with  a  state  of  probation, 
and  savors  of  pride  and  presumption  :  but  we  must  take  good  heed 
liow  we  stagger  at  any  word  of  God  ;  and  much  more  how  we  deny  or 
fritter  away  the  meaning  of  any  of  his  sayings,  lest  he  reprove  us,  and 
"•c  be  found  liars  before  him.  '  But  it  may  be  that  the  term  is  rejected 
becriusc  it  is  not  understood.  Let  us  examine  its  import. 
^  '■  1  iic  word  '  perfection,'  in  reference  to  any  person  or  thing,  signi- 
iiift  tii-ii  such  person  or  thing  is  complcto  or  finished ;  that  it  has  nothing 
rfdiindanl,  and  is  in  nothing  defective.     And  hence  that  observation  of 


126  Christian  Perfection.  [January, 

a  learned  civilian  is  at  once  bolli  correct  and  illustrative,  namely,  '  Wc 
count  those  things  perfect  which  want  nothing  requisite  for  the  end 
whereto  they  were  instituted.'  And  to  he  perfect  often  signifies  '  to  be 
blameless,  clear,  irreproachable  ;'  and,  according  to  the  above  definition 
of  Hooker,  a  man  may  be  said  to  be  perfect  who  answers  the  end  for 
which  God  made  him  ;  ami  as  God  requires  every  man  to  love  him 
with  all  his  heart,  soul,  mind,  ami  strength,  and  his  neighbor  as  himself, 
then  he  is  a  perfect  man  that  does  so  ;  he  answers  the  end  for  which 
God  made  him  ;  and  tliis  is  more  evident  from  the  nature  of  that  love 
which  fills  his  heart:  for  as  love  is  the  jirinciple  of  obedience,  so  he 
that  loves  his  God  with  all  liis  powers  will  obey  him  with  all  his  powers  ; 
and  he  who  loves  his  neighbor  as  himself  will  not  only  do  no  injury  to 
him,  but,  on  the  contrary,  bibor  to  promote  his  best  interests." 

Mr.  Trcffry  observes  : — 

"  Christianity  being  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  we  infer  tliat  Christian 
perfection  implies  a  conformity  to  the  will  of  Christ,  in  all  that  relates 
to  inward  and  outward  holiness,  to  the  temper  of  our  minds,  and  the 
conduct  of  our  lives  :  or,  in  oilier  words,  it  is  the  full  maturity  of  the 
Christian  principle,  and  the  consistent  and  uniform  exemplification  of 
Christian  practice.  By  the  Christian  principle,  we  understand  that 
divine  virtue,  from  which  the  sc\eral  graces  and  fruits  of  Christianity 
spring,  and  by  which  they  arc  supported  and  kept  in  continual  opera- 
tion. Or,  in  other  words,  it  is  that  which  resembles  the  germinating 
power  in  vegetation,  that  unfolds  itself  in  buds,  blossoms,  and  fruits, 
containing  '  within  it,  as  in  an  embryo  state,  the  rudiments  of  all  true 
virtue  ;  which,  striking  deep  its  roots,  though  feeble  and  lowly  in  its 
beginnings,  silently  progressive,  and  almost  insensibly  maturing,  yet 
will  shorllj',  even  in  the  bleak  and  churlisli  temiierature  of  tliis  world, 
lift  up  its  head  and  spread  abroad  its  branches,  bearing  abimdant 
fruits.' " 

Again : — 

"  Perfection  has  a  two-fuld  charac-icr ;  lliere  is  a  perfection  of  parts, 
and  a  perfection  of  degrees.  A  thing  is  perfect  in  the  former  sense, 
when  it  possesses  all  the  properties  or  qualities  which  are  essential  to 
its  nature,  without  any  dcJieiency  or  redundancy  :  thus  a  machine  is 
perfect  when  it  has  all  its  ])arts,  and  these  parts  so  admirably  disposed 
as  completely  to  answer  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  formed.  Thus  a 
human  body  is  perfect  when  it  has  all  the  limbs,  nuisclcs,  arteries,  veins, 
&c.,  that  belong  to  a  htiman  body,  and  thus  I  conceive  every  Christian 
believer  is  perfect,  as  he  is  endnwed  wiiii  all  the  graces  of  the  Spirit, 
and  the  'fruits  of  righteousness,  which  are  by  Jesus  Christ  to  the  glory 
and  praise  of  God.'  And  this  kind  of  perfection  admits  of  no  increase  ; 
any  addition  would  deface  the  beauty  and  destroy  the  harmony  of  the 
whole  :  add  another  wheel  to  your  watches,  and  the  purpose  would  be 
defeated  for  which  they  are  formed  :  imagine  another  limb  joined  to 
a  human  body,  and  it  woidd  disfigure  rather  than  beautify  it,  and  retard 
rather  than  accelerate  its  motion.     In  religion,  indeed,  the  imagination 


ISn.l  Christian  Perfection.  127 

cannot  picture  any  additional  virtue,  nor  the  mind  conceive  of  any  new 
nrat-L'  to  bo  juiiicd  to  the  Christian  character;  the  feeblest  saint  is  as 
jjirfic't  in  this  sense  as  the  most  established  Christian,  and  the  babe  as 
complete  as  the  man.  And  I  greatly  question  whether  the  glorified 
spirits  in  heaven  are  more  perfect  in  lliis  view  tlian  the  saints  upon 
earth;  for  if  old  things  pass  away,  and  all  things  become  new,  when 
the  soul  is  vitally  united  to  Christ,  may  we  not  suppose  that  the  most 
consummate  slate  of  blessedness  in  the  kingdom  of  God  consists  in  the 
endless  accessions  which  those  graces  will  receive  that  adorn  the  soul 
in  this  world? 

"  Uo  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  love  God  with  an  intense 
ardor  and  growing  attachment?  And  is  not  '  the  love  of  God  shed 
abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost  which  is  given  unto  us  ?'  Do 
not  we  '  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us  ?'  Do  they  possess  '  a  ful- 
ness of  joy,  and  pleasures  for  evermore  ?'  And  do  not  '  we  rejoice 
with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory  ?'  '  And  return  to  Zion  with 
singing  and  everlasting  joy  upon  our  heads  T 

"  Do  they  see  Christ  as  he  is,  and  participate  his  likeness  ?  '  And 
do  not  we  behold,  as  in  a  glass,  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  till  changed  into 
the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord?' 

"  Do  they  say  v,-ith  a  loud  voice,  '  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain  to  receive  jxiwer  andT-'ichos,  and  wisdom  and  strength,  and  honor 
and  glory,  and  blessing?'  And  do  not  'we  sing  and  make  melody  in 
our  hearts  unto  the  Lord  V 

'  Thee  they  sing  with  glory  cro%^Ti'd, 

We  extol  tlie  slauglitcr'd  Lamb, 
Lower  if  our  voices  sound. 
Our  subject  is  the  same. 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  assert  any  thing  positively  on  this  subject.  It 
is  possible  there  may  be  latent  powers  in  the  human  soul  which  never 
can  be  developed  in  this  world,  but  which  may,  in  a  future  state  of  cx- 
istonco,  give  birth  to  new  and  endless  cnjo3'menls  ;  for  if  this  life  be 
only  •  the  bud  of  being,'  what  finite  mind  can  conceive  the  glories  that 
\mI1  await  us,  when  we  blossom  with  unfading  beauty  in  the  garden  of 
parailise  ? 

"  I'erfi'ction  may  be  considered  in  reference  to  its  degrees.  I  do 
not  like  this  term,  as  I  am  conscious  it  may  be  abused,  but  it  is  the  best 
1  <:i\\  find  to  express  my  meaning:  it  implies  the  having  all  the  'fruits 
of  the  .Sjiiril'  brought  to  such  maturity,  as  to  exclude  every  opposing 
jTiiieijile,  and  every  contrary  temper.  A  man  may  be  perfect  in  the 
tormcr  sense,  and  imperfect  in  the  latter:  just  as  a  child  may  be  per- 
fect in  parts,  and  imperfect  in  degrees  ;  he  may  have  all  the  limbs,  and 
so  on,  of  a  human  being,  but  not  the  strength,  the  vigor,  nor  the  intel- 
lectual endowments  of  a  man.  And  thus  a  Christian,  who  has  been 
r<Ti-!i;|y  'born  of  God,'  and  just  introduced  into  the  glorious  liberty  of 
ihu  gospel,  may  have  all  the  graces  of  Christianity,  and  yet  these  may 
t».ni  111  imperfect  degrees:  for  instance,  every  Christian  possesses  a 
ii>iili'.>  nee  in  God,  a  trust  in  his  promises,  and  a  reliance  upon  his 
viraciiy  ;  not  the  confidence  of  ignorance,  nor  of  presumption,  but  the 


128       ■  Christian  Perfection.  [January, 

genuine  offsprinfr  of  expcrimontal  kno^vlc^l:?c,  for '  they  that  know  thy 
name,  (saith  David,)  \\\\\  put  iheir  trust  in  thee'  But  this  confidence, 
ihouijh  perfect  in  its  principle,  is  imperfect  in  its  degree.  It  is  some- 
limes  disturbed  by  dcibts,  molested  by  fuars,  or  harassed  by  anxious 
cares  ;  but  when  the  soul  has  attained  to  maturity  in  Christian  holiness, 
this  confidence  is  perfect,  and  doubt,  distrust,  and  fear,  cease  to  exist. 
And  though,  in  reference  to  worldly  things,  the  Christian  may  walk  'in 
darkness,  and  liavc  no  light,'  tlie  lig  tree  may  not  blossom,  nor  fruit  be 
in  the  vine,  friends  may  desert  him,  and  foes  meditate  his  ruin,  yet '  he 
shall  not  be  afraid  of  evil  tidings  ;  his  liearl  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the 
Lord  :'  hence  he  can  say  with  Job,  '  Though  ho  slay  me,  yet  will  I 
trust  in  him,'  or  with  the  poet, 

'  Though  waves  and  sturins  go  o'er  my  head, 

TIkiukIi  health,  ami  stren^'lh,  and  friends  be  goue. 

Though  juyshe  u-uhrrM  all,  and  drad, 
Though  every  comfurl  ho  willidrawn  ; 

On  this  my  stcadf;isi  soul  relies, 

Father,  thy  uiercy  never  dies.' 

"  Every  believer  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  loves  God,  and  gives  the 
most  indubitable  evidence  of  llu't  love,  b}^  keeping  God's  command- 
ments, and  doing  the  things  tiiat  please  liim.  But  tills  love,  although 
perfect  in  its  nature,  is  not  in  its  degree.  There  may  be  an  undue  at- 
tachment to  the  world,  an  inijiroper  fondness  for  the  creature,  or  an 
inordinate  degree  of  self-love  ;  but  wlien  the  Christian  has  gone  on 
'unto  perfcclion,'  tlion  lie  'loves  God  with  all  his  Iteart,  and  with  all 
his  soul,  and  with  all  his  mind,  and  with  all  his  strength,  and  his  neigh- 
bor as  himself.'  'j'hls  love  knows  no  rival ;  neither  the  seductions  of 
sin,  nor  the  hires  of  the  world,  nor  the  charms  of  the  creature,  can  alien- 
ate the  affections  from  the  sole  object  that  has  engrossed  them.  For 
such  a  man,  weallli  lias  no  value,  pleasure  no  attraction,  lienor  no 
hrilliance,  and  dignities  no  splendor  :  hence  he  adopts  the  language 
of  the  poet : — 

'All  my  treasure  is  above, 
All  my  riches  is  thy  love  ; 
AVhoin  have  I  in  heaven  hut  thee  ■? 
Thou  art  all  in  all  to  mc.'  " 

It  will  be  perceived  frotn  tlic  above  extracts,  that  oiir  authors  use 
tlie  terms  perfection,  suiictification,  and  holiness  interchangeably,  as 
having  ihc  saiue  significaliim,  when  used  in  the  Bible  in  relation  to 
Cliristian  character  and  c.\]ieriencc. 

Sanctification  may  be  rcju-escnted  luider  two  aspects— ^/zr^Z  as  a 
work,  and  second!  1/  as  a  state.  As  a  work,  1,  it  is  present  and 
instantaneous ;  and  2,  permanent  and  continued:  The  present  work 
embraces,  1 .  Cleansing  from  sin ;  and  2.  Setting  apart  to  a  holy 
use.  Wliat  wc  mean  by  being  cleansed  from  sin,  is,  being  saved  from 
its  pollutions,  its  love,  and  its  power,  vhrough  an  application  of  the 


It*  11.]  Chrislimi  Perfection.  ■        129 

blood  of  Clirist  by  tlic  agency  and  influences  of  llic  Holy  Ghosl. 
By  being  set  apart  to  a  holy  use,  we  mean  being  consecrated  to 
the.  service  of  God,  by  the  gxace  and  power  of  God,  upon  our  own 
voluntary  surrender.  In  this  transaction  the  will  of  God  and  the 
will  of  tlie  creature  liarmonize. 

Tliat  jiart  of  the  work  which  is  continued  embraces  the  sustain- 
iiin-  influences  of  the  Spirit,  defending  the  soul  from  the  assaults  of 
i-'m,  and  inspiring  the  peculiai"  feelings  and  tendencies  of  a  loving, 
submissive,  and  devoted  mind.  In  short,  whatever  of  divine  influ- 
ence is  necessary  to  sustain  tlie  flame  of  perfect  love,  to  insure  a 
growth  in  gi-acc,  to  impart  joy  and  peace,  and  to  preserve  the  soul 
in  the  lioiu-  of  temptation.     But, 

Secondly.  Sanctiflcation  is  a  state.  The  state  of  sanctification 
implies,  1.  The  death  of  sin.  2.  The  life  of  righteousness.  3.  Ila- 
bils  of  obedience. 

A  fter  premising  these  few  things,  wc  are  prepared  to  give  an  answer 
lo  tl;e  inquiry  whether  sanctification  is  instantaneous  or  gradual. 
I  'pon  this  distinction  much  depends.  We  must  understand  wliether 
we  are  authorized  from  the  Scriptitres  to  conclude  that  it  is 
wholly  gradual  or  v/hoUy  instantaneous,  or  partly  both  gradual 
and  instantaneous,  and  if  so,  in  what  respects  is  it  gradual  and  in 
what  respects  instantaneous,  before  we  can  have  a  rational  under- 
standing of  the  subject,  and  especially  before  we  shall  be  prepared 
to  employ  the  best  and  most  successful  efforts  for  its  attaimnent. 

Upon  this  important  point  Mr.  Wesley  holds  the  following 
hnguagc  :— 

"  .K  man  may  be  dying  for  some  time,  yet  he  docs  not,  properly 
sppiikiiiL',  die,  till  the  instant  the  soul  is  separated  from  the  body;  and 
in  l!i^l  instant  he  Uves  tlio  life  of  eternity."  " "  " 

The  following  passage  is  quoted  by  Mr.  Fletcher  from  Jlr.  Wes- 
ley with  approbation,  and  of  course  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  expres- 
sion of  the  views  of  both  of  tliesc  great  lights  of  the  church  : — 

"  Docs  God  work  this  great  work  in  the  soul  gradually  or  instanta- 
neously ?  Perhaps  it  may  be  gradually  wrought  in  some,  I  mean  ia 
(bis  sense, — they  do  not  advert  to  the  particular  moment  wherein  sin 
ci-asc-s  to  be.  But  it  is  infinitely  desirable,  were  it  the  will  of  God, 
<b:it  ii  should  be  done  instantaneously ;  that  the  Lord  should  destroy 
'ia  '  by  the  breath  of  his  mouth,'  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
rye.  ,\ikI  so  he  generally  does, — a  plain  fact,  of  which  there  is  cvi- 
(b-ncp  (.nough  to  .satisfy  any  unprejudiced  person.  Thou  therefore  look 
lor  it  every  moment.     Look  for  it  in  the  way  above  described  ;  iii  all 


130  Christian  Perfection.  [January, 

those  good  works,  •whcreunto  tliou  art  created  anew  in  Christ  Jesus. 
'J'here  is  then  no  danger ;  you  can  be  no  worse,  if  you  are  no  better, 
for  that  expectation.  For  were  you  to  bo  disappointed  of  your  hope, 
still  you  lose  notliing.  Uut  you  shall  not  be  disappointed  of  your 
hope ;  it  will  come,  and  will  not  larry.  Look  for  it  then  ever)"  day, 
every  hour,  every  luonicnt.  \\'hy  not  tliis  hour,  litis  moment?  Cer- 
tainly you  may  look  for  it  now,  if  you  believe  it  is  by  faith.  And  by 
this  token  you  may  surely  know  whether  you  seek  it  by  faith  or  by 
works.  If  by  works,  you  want  something  to  be  done  first,  before  you 
are  saiiclilied.  You  ihiiik,  '  I  nnist  first  be  or  do  thus  or  thus.'  Then 
you  arc  seeking  it  b)-  works  uiuo  this  day.  If  you  seek  it  by  faith,  you 
may  expect  it  as  you  are  ;  and  if  as  you  are,  then  expect  it  now.  It  is 
of  importance  to  observe  that  tli(.re  is  an  inseparable  connection  be- 
tween these  three  points, — expect  it  by  fiith,  expect  it  as  you  are,  and 
expect  it  now.  To  deny  one  of  them  is  to  deny  them  all :  to  allow 
one  is  to  allow  them  all.  I)o  you  believe  we  arc  sanctified  by  failh  ? 
Be  true  then  to  your  principle,  and  look  for  this  blessing  just  as  you  are, 
neither  better  nor  worse,  as  a  poor  sinner  that  has  still  nothing  to  pay, 
nothing  to  plead,  but  '  Christ  died.'  And  if  you  look  for  it  as  you  are, 
then  expect  it  nov/.  Stay  for  nothing :  why  should  you  1  Christ  is 
ready,  and  he  is  all  you  want,  lie  is  waiting  for  you  ;  he  is  at  the 
door !     Let  your  inmost  soul  try  out, 

'  Come  in,  conic  in.  thou  heavenly  guest! 
Kor  licncc  a?ain  roinovc  : 
,  But  iiup  witli  me,  ami  let  the  feast 

Ue  cverhsting  love.' " 

Mr.  Watmough,  after  urging,  wiili  no  little  force,  from  various 
representations  made  in  the  t>cri])turcs,  and  especially  several  things 
with  which  the  process  of  sanclification  is  compared,  that  the  pro- 
cess is  not  a  lo7ig  one,  sums  tiji  tlic  evidence  in  the  following  par- 
ticulars : — 

"  My  first  observation  sliall  bo  this  ;  that  from  what  has  been  said,  as 
well  as  from  the  nature  of  the  thing,  it  appears  that  there  must  be  a  moment 
when  the  sanctifying  process  has  ii^  commencement  in  the  soul ;  and  that 
moment  is  the  moment  in  which  wc  are  justified,  and  born  again  of 
God.  Then  it  is  that  the  leaven  of  grace  begins  to  operate,  that  the 
old  man  of  sin  beeonics  nailed  to  llic  cross,  and  that  the  body  of  sin 
begins  to  be  destroyed.  My  second  remark  is  this,  that  from  the  com- 
mencement to  the  loriniiiation  of  this  process,  two  principles,  contrary 
to  each,  exist  in  our  nature  ;  namely,  l.hc  rvmmns  of  the  carnal  inind,  and 
the  haUouing  grace  of  God.  This  is  an  important  fact,  and  demands  the 
most  serious  consideration  of  believers,  as  mncli  of  their  peace  of  mind, 
till  they  arc  wholly  sanctified  to  (Jod,  will  often  depend  upon  right  con- 
ceptions of  this  very  ])oint.  If  they  have  clear  views  of  it,  thev  will 
auributc  the  coldness  and  languor,  ami  evil  desires  and  tlioughts,  which 
they  sometimes  find  within  lliem,  lo  the  stirrings  and  emotions  of  sin 
that  dwellelh  in  them,  even  ihu  remains  of  a  carnal  mind,  and  will  not 


ISll.]  Christian  Perfection.  131 

.•.\irrenJcT  their  justifying  confidence  in  Christ,  when  the  tempter  tempts 
till  m  n>  do  so  oij  tliat  very  account.  Thirdly.  The  celerity  of  the  sanc- 
ljf\  ine  process  depends  upon  man.  He  may  hinder  it  by  iinfaitliful- 
ness,  or  furward  it  by  diligence  directed  arii^ht.  Fourthly.  If  the  Chris- 
liaii  be  faithful,  the  process  goes  on.  The  body  of  sin  is  more  and 
jiiuii'  destroyed,  and  grace  gains  the  ascendant.  Thus  the  moment  ar- 
rives ai  h.st  when  sin  is  entirely  done  away,  and  the  whole  soul  of  the 
bilirvcr  filled  with  grace.  This  is  that  entire  sanctilication  for  which 
I  toutnid  through  the  whole  of  this  work.  Fifthly.  In  this  way  the 
ri'ader  will  perceive  what  is  usually  intended  by  the  terra  'instanta- 
neous,' when  applied  to  the  work  in  question.  It  simply  means,  that 
the  work  which  purifies  the  understanding,  memory,  will,  conscience, 
and  iho  passions  in  general,  as  described  in  a  former  part  of  this  work, 
logelher  with  the  members  and  senses  of  the  body,  and  fdls  and  sub- 
ject's them  all  to  the  dominion  of  grace,  is  fiiisJici.I .'  and  this  finishing 
or  termination  of  the  process,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  thing,  must 
take  ])lacc  in  a  moment,  or  be  instantaneous,  if  ever  it  take  place  at  all. 
&!o  that  the  greatest  advocates  for  the  gradual,  and  even  ]iro!ractcd 
jiroccss  of  this  work,  can  have  no  just  ground  of  exception  to  a 
sober  and  chastened  use  of  the  term.  Si.xthl)-.  Let  us  be  careful,  how- 
cvcr,  nol  lo  limit  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  as  to  time,  in  the  performance 
of  this  v.ork.  Time,  indeed,  can  be  nothing  to  Him,  who  can  do  in  a 
monuiit  as  jnuch  as  in  an  age.  Had  he  seen  fit,  he  could  have  formed 
ilic  world  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  just  as  well  as  in  the  space  of  six 
d;iys.  And  if,  in  the  process  of  that  work  we  are  discussing,  we  allow 
a  regular  order  to  take  place,  a  beginning,  a  subsequent  progression  and 
increase,  and  then  a  completion  or  finishing  of  the  work;  if  we  allow 
all  this,  as  we  certainly  ought,  if  we  would  think  and  speak  aright ;  is 
not  the  Deity  able  to  attend  to  it  all  in  a  moment  of  time  1  So  that, 
whatever  maybe  the  case  or  experience  of  some  individuals,  there  can 
be  no  necessity  of  supposing  that  God  must  be  cither  years,  or  months, 
or  days  in  accomplisliing  this  work.  The  thief  on  the  cross  was  both 
juiiitird  and  sanctified  in  less  than  a  day.  And  it  is  greatly  to  be  feared 
tii:it  those  who  contend  for  a  long  and  tedious  process  of  this  work. 
foim  thi  ir  opinions  on  false  and  fallacious  principles,  and  not  on  the 
doctrines  of  God.  They  look  at  the  experience  of  men;  and  because 
home  good  men  have  been  years  in  the  ways  of  the  Lord,  and  never 
enjoyed  this  blessing,  hastily  infer  that  others  must  be  so  too.  They 
never  appear  to  think  that  these  men,  though  faithful,  perhaps,  in  all 
other  respects,  have  not  been  faithful  in  this  ;  or  that  they  have  erred 
in  tlicir  views  concerning  it ;  and  have  not  sought  it,  because,  through 
komo  urdiappy  circumstance  or  other,  they  have  not  seen  it  to  be  a  bless- 
ing which  it  was  their  privilege  to  enjoy.  Thus  they. have  not  only 
mjiired  themselves,  but,  by  their  example,  though  ig-norantly,  I  grant, 
others  also.  The  longest  period  allowed  for  the  sanctifying  process, 
111  the  jiassages  referred  to  above,  is  but  a  few  days  ;  and  there  are 
others  which  contract  it  to  periods  not  longer  than  would  sufTice  to 
v.ash,  or  oven  sprinkle  the  body  with  water,  or  to  exchange  our  clothes. 
Lei  us  ever,  with  gratitude,  remember  that  this  great  work  is  the  vork 
•J  our  God.     My  sevenih,  and  last  rentark  upon  this  Lead  is  this,  that 


132  Christian  Perfection.  [Jamiar)^ 

when  \\c  speak  of  sanclification  beinj;  finislieJ,  coniplcle,  entire,  or  tbo 
like,  we  refer  only  to  one  brancli  of  it,  namely,  the  destruction  of  sin. 
All  sin,  whether  in  the  soul  or  body,  must  conic  to  an  end,  if  man  bo 
faithful ;  but  the  prace  -which  destroys  it  may  afterward  flow  for  ever 
into  the  heart.  Divmo  liijlit  may  increase  and  discover  new  scenes  of 
wonder  to  the  soul,  which  will  incite  the  passion  of  wonder  to  greater 
ardor.  Love  will  rise  iii  proportion  ;  desire  and  hope  will  follow  after  ; 
and  joy,  in  rosy  mantle,  and  crowned  with  songs  of  rapture,  will  have 
Iter  place  in  the  bright  celestial  train.  The  body,  being  freed  from  sin, 
will  not  weigh  down  the  sold,  nor  despoil  the  renewed  wings  of  the 
eagle  within  with  such  a  weight  of  sensual  appetites  and  risings  of  de- 
sire as  formerly  IvciU  her  fluttering  near  the  ground.  So  that  beiiig 
freer  to  mount  aloli,  and  range  llic  celestial  regions  above  the  clouds, 
and  storms,  and  tempests  of  this  lower  world,  slie  v/ill  gaze  on  the  Sun 
of  righteousness  with  unutterable  ecstasy  and  peace,  and  drink  in  the 
foretastes  of  everlasting  bliss." 

Our  corollary  front  the  positions  of  our  authors  is,  that  sanctifi- 
cation  is  in  part  to  be  sought  as  a  change  to  be  instantaneously 
wrought  in  tlic  sotil,  and  in  part  as  a  state  and  work  of  grace  in 
the  soul  whicli  will  increase  and  enlarge  in  its  blessedness,  and  in 
its  influence  upon  the  interests  of  God's  moral  Idngdorn  tluroughlife 
and  even  to  eternity.  So  far  as  it  contemplates  the  destruction  of 
sin,  and  consecration  to  God,  it  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  distinct 
change  which  wc  must  experience  before  death,  and  which  we 
may  experience  at  any  time  subsequent  to  justification. 

The  "  seventli  and  last  remark"  of  the  last  atithor  quoted  is  of 
great  importance  to  a  rii;hl  understanding  of  this  subject.  It  strikes 
most  rmnds  that  to  spcalc  of  a  work  being  fmislied  and  j^et  advanc- 
ing, is  a  contradiction.  Here,  doubtless,  many,  very  many,  stum- 
ble. How  is  it,  say  they,  that  we  may  be  fully  sanctified  at  once, 
and  yet  advance  in  sanctificalion  ?  It  seems  that  it  cannot  with 
any  consistency  be  said  a  work  is  still  going  on  when  it  is  already 
finished.  And  such  is  the  careless  and  confused  manner  in  which 
this  doctrine  is  often  set  forth,  that  it  seems  to  involve  a  plain 
contrachction.  But  wlicn  it  is  understood  that  it  is  not  pretended, 
or  ought  not  to  be  pretended  that  the  whole  work  and  condition  of 
sanctification  is  brought  to  a  conclusion  at  any  point  upon  which 
wc  may  fix  our  attention,  this  malerially  alters  the  case.  The  body 
of  sin  may  die,  be  dead,  and  never  revive,  and  of  course  must  have 
died  at  some  parlictdar  time,  and  can  never  be  more  than  dead ; 
but  the  righteousness-  by  whicli  the  spirit  lives  may  continue  end- 
lessly to  increase. 


1S41.]  Christian  Perfection.  133 

Hence  believers  sliould  look  for  an  instantaneous  death  of  sin: 
yhoiiki  fix  ihcir  attention  upon  this  object,  and  seek,  with  unceasing 
dilitroncc,  its  instantaneous  consummation.  The  struggle  %Yill  be 
lung  or  short,  according  to  the  strength  of  faith  exerted,  and  the 
aiilov  of  desire  felt  in  the  pursuit  of  the  object.  And  why  should 
wc  lenve  our  corruptions  to  die  a  lingering  death  when  they  may  be 
dis|>,iiLhcd  at  once?  We  are  persuaded  that  most  of  our  people 
wlio  conic  short  of  tliis  blessing,  mistake  in  their  views  of  this  dc- 
liri  r  in  ice  from  sin.  They  think  it  a  great  and  wonderful  thing,  too 
i^rral  for  iJicni,  and  perhaps  they  consider  it  the  greatest  thing  that 
(jod  can  do.  But  that  eminently  pious  man,  l\Ir.  Fletcher,  says,  It 
is  hut  a  small  tJiing  to  he  saved  from  all  sin,  hut  to  he  filled,  &c. 

Again,  he  says  : — 

"  Tlie  work  of  sanclification  is  hindered,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  by  the 
same  reason,  and  by  holding  out  the  being  delivered  from  sin,  as  the 
mnrk  (o  be  aimed  at,  instead  of  being  rooted  iii  Christ  and  fdhd  >bith  lite 
fidniss  of  God,  and  with  power  from  on  high." — Bcnsoii's  Lfe  of 
'lldch,r,\x2GQ>. 

And  Dr.  Clarke  says  :— 

"  To  be  filled  with  God  is  a  great  tiling  ;  to  be  filled  willi  i\\e  fulness 
of  God  is  still  greater ;  to  be  tilled  icitli  all  the  fulness  of  God  is  greatest 
of  all." 

Let  it  then  be  distinctly  understood  that  when  we  speak  of  Cluris- 
lian  perfection  or  entire  sanctification  as  now  attainable,  we  mean 
lliat  it  is  possible  for  God's  people  J!oty  to  he  saved  from  all  sin, 
and  to  he  fidlij  consecrated  to  God;  and  experiencing  this  great 
f  hanije,  they  will  enter  into  a  blessed  stale  of  progessive  liolincss 
and  hai.piiicss.  To  this  wc  would  aspire.  To  this  would  we  m-ge 
all  Ciiri.'^lians  ;  and  would,  with  Mr.  Weslejr,  most  unhesitatingly 
declare,  that  "  it  is  the  glorious  privilege  of  every  Christian,  yea, 
iliouijh  he  be  but  a  babe  in  Christ,  to  be  so  far  perfect  as  not  to 
i-onimit  sin."  But  it  is  alleged  by  some,  that  though  a  state  of 
entire  sanctification  is  promised  in  the'  gospel,  yet  it  is  not  to  be 
cxpeclod  until  death,  or  near  the  lime  of  that  great  and  dreadful 
•  liaiiac 

'l"hi.s  error  is  successfidly  met  by  Mr.  Watson  in  the  following 
l.i'niiii.n^c  : — 

1  )i'-  ->tiainablcncss  of  such  a  state  is  not  so  much  a  matter  of  de- 
liif^  ainnag  Cliristians,  as  the  time  when  we  are  authorized  to  expect 
\  01..  I.— 9 


134  Christian  Pcif cation.  tJamiar)', 

it.  For  as  it  is  an  axiom  of  Christinn  doclrine,  tliat  '  v.-illiout  liolinoss 
no  man  can  see  the  Lord,'  and  is  rqvKilly  clear  that,  if  we  would  '  be 
found  of  him  in /it-acc,' we  must  be  found  '  witliout  spot,  and  hfamcless,' 
and  that  ibe  church  will  bo  presented  by  Christ  to  the  Father  without 
'  fault,'  so  it  must  be  concluded,  unless,  on  the  one  hand,  vrc  greatly 
jiervert  the  sense  of  those  passages,  or,  on  the  other,  admit  the  doctrine 
of  purgatory,  or  some  intermediate  purifying  institution,  that  the  entire 
sanctitication  of  the  soul,  and  its  complete  renewal  in  holiness,  must 
take  place  in  this  world. 

"  While  this  is  generally  acknowledged,  however,  among  spiritual 
Christians,  it  has  bciii  v.arudy  contended  by  many,  that  the  final  stroke 
which  destroys  our  n:ilur;d  corruption  is  only  given  at  death;  and  that 
the  soul,  when  srparnlcd  fioni  the  body,  and  not  before,  is  capable  of 
that  immaculate  purity  which  these  passages,  doubtless,  cxliibit  to  our 
hope. 

"  If  this  view  can  be  refuted,  then  it  must  follow,  unless  a  purgatory 
of  some  description  be  allowed  after  death,  that  the  entire  sanclification 
of  believers,  at  any  time  previous  to  their  dissolution,  and  in  the  full 
sense  of  these  evangelic  promises,  is  attainable. 

"  To  the  opinion  in  question,  then,  there  appear  to  be  the  following 
fatal  objections  : — 

"1.  That  we  no%\here  find  the  promises  of  entire  sanclification  re- 
stricted to  the  article  of  death,  cither  expressly,  or  in  fair  inference, 
from  any  passage  of  Holy  Scripture. 

"  2.  That  we  nowhere  find  the  circumstance  of  the  soul's  union  with 
the  bodv  represented  as  a  necessary  obstacle  to  its  entire  sanctification. 

"  The  principal  j)assage  which  has  been  urged  in  proof  of  this  from. 
the  New  Testament,  is  that  j)jrt  of  the  seventh  chapter  of  the  Epistle 
to  the  Romans,  in  whicli  St.  Paul,  speaking  in  the  first  person  of  the 
bondage  of  the  flesh,  has  been  supposed  to  describe  his  state,  as  a  be- 
lieverin  Christ.  But  wlicili.T  he  sp<aks  of  himself,  or  describes  the 
state  of  others,  in  a  supposed  case,  i;iven  for  the  sake  of  more  vivid 
representation  in  the  first  person,  which  is  much  more  probable,  he  is 
clearly  speaking  of  a  person  who  had  once  sought  justification  by  the 
works  of  the  law,  but  who  was  llu-u  convinced,  by  the  force  of  a  spirit- 
ual apprehension,  of  the  extent  ol  the  requirements  of  that  law,  and  by 
constant  failures  in  his  attcmjits  to  keep  it  perfectly,  that  he  was  in 
bondage  to  his  corrupt  nature,  and  could  only  be  delivered  from  this 
thraldom  by  the  intcriiosition  of  another.  For,  not  to  urge  that  his 
strong  expressions  of  being  'carnal,'  'sold  under  sin,'  and  doing  al- 
ways '  the  things  which  he  would  not,'  are  utterly  inconsistent  with 
that  moral  state  of  believers  in  Christ  which  he  describes  in  the  next 
chapter  ;  and,  especially,  that  he  there  declares  that  such  as  are  in 
Christ  Jesus  'walk  nol'ahc'T  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit.'  The  se- 
venth chapter  itself  contains  decisive  evidence  against  the  inference 
wliich  the  advocates  of  the  necessary  continuance  of  sin  till  death  have 
drawn  from  it.  The  apostle  declar<'s  the  person,  whose  case  he  de- 
scribes, 10  bo  under  the  law,  and  not  in  a  state  of  deliverance  by  Christ ; 
and  then  he  represents  him,  not  only  as  despairing  of  sclf-deliverance, 
and  as  praying  for  the  interposition  of  a  sufficiently  powerful  deliverer, 
9* 


1^11]  Christian  rerfection.  135 

t'.i!  as  llnnkins  GoJ  lliat  the  very  deliverance  for  which  he  groans  is 
npiKiiiiJiil  to  lie  adininislcrccl  to  him  bj'  Jesus  Christ.  '  Who  shall  de- 
livrr  1110  from  the  body  of  this  death?  I  thank  God  through  Jesus 
(■llr'^;  our  Lord.' 

'•  'I'his  i.s  also  so  fully  confirmed  by  what  the  apostle  had  said  in  the 
j>i('Ci-.!iii,'  rhnpter,  where  he  unquestionably  describes  the  moral  state 
111  till.',  bi'lifvers,  that  nothing  is  more  surprising  thau  that  so  perverted 
:i  f  Diiiniont  upon  the  seventh  chapter  as  that  to  which  wc  have  adverted, 
b!;o;dd  have  been  adopted  or  persevered  in.  '  What  shall  we  say, 
l!;eii '  Shall  we  continue  in  sin,  that  grace  may  abound  ?  God  forbid  I 
How  shall  we,  who  are  dead  to  sin,  live  any  longer  therein?  Know 
v>'  nut,  that  so  man_v  of  us  as  were  baptized  into  Jesus  Christ  were 
iojuiii'd  into  his  death  ?  Therefore  wc  are  buried  with  him  by  baptism 
iiito  doalh ;  that,  like  as  Christ  was  raised  up  from  the  dead  by  the 
glnry  of  the  Father,  even  so  wo  also  should  walk  in  newness  of  life. 
I'or  if  wc  have  been  planted  together  in  the  likeness  of  his  death,  we 
shall  be  also  in  the  likeness  of  his  resurrection  ;  knowing  this,  that  our 
01. 1)  .M.w  is  crucified  with  him,  that  the  body  of  six  .might  be  de- 
MKoVFi),  ihil  henceforth  wc  should  not  serve  sin  ;  for  he  that  is  dead 
l«  HiiiKD  ri:o;it  .six.'  So  clearly  does  the  apostle  show,  that  he  who 
i^  I'.or.Ni)  to  the  'body  of  death,'  as  mentioned  in  the  seventh  chapter, 
it  lidj  in  the  .stale  of  a  believer  ;  and  that  he  who  has  a  true  faith  in 
Clirist,  'is  KnEEi)  from  sin.' 

"  It  is  so.mowhat  singular  that  the  divines  of  the  Calvinistic  school 
should  be  almost  uniformly  the  zealous  advocates  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
contiMurincc  of  indwellmg  sin  till  death  ;  but  it  is  but  justice  to  say,  that 
Kworal  of  them  have  as  zealously  denied  that  the  apostle,  in  the  seventh 
rh:i|)ter  of  the  Romans,  describes  the  state  of  one  who  is  justified  by 
f:iiili  in  Christ,  and  very  properly  consider  the  case  there  spoken  of  as 
that  of  one  struggling  in  legal  bondage,  and  brought  to  that  point  of 
/<flf-(li'spair,  and  of  conviction  of  sin  and  helplessness,  which  nuist 
^^v:lys  jircccde  an  entire  trust  in  the  merits  of  Christ's  death,  and  the 
,..«,ro!h,ss-dva,ion. 

" ;!.  )  he  i!i)euini'  before  us  is  disproved  by  those  passages  of 
5'rr:j)'urL-  n  liirh  cnnaccl  our  entire  sanctifieation  with  subsequent  habits 
aj!.i  j<-o,  lo  be  exhibited  in  the  conduct  of  believers  hcforc  death.  So 
iri  \\w  (itiiitalion  from  Romans  vi,  just  given,—'  Knowing  this,  that  the 
l-i'-iy  ol  bin  might  be  destroyed,  that  henceforth  wc  should  not  serve  sin.' 
.'^o  ilif  twliorlation  in  2  Cor.  vii,  1,  also  given  above,  refers  to  the  pre- 
K-nl  life,  and  not  to  the  future  hour  of  our  dissolution  ;  and  in  1  Thcss. 
V.  y:t.  the  apostle  first  prays  for  the  entire  sanctification  of  the  Thessa- 
•oiii.Tiis,  and  then  for  their  preservation  in  that  hallowed  state,  '  unto  the 
c"[miig  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

"1.  It  is  disproved,  also,  by  all  those  passages  which  require  us  to 
JiMi;  forth  those  graces  and  virtues  which  are  usually  called  the  fruits 
<■'  t:i>.  .'Spirit.  'i'i,;,t  [hpgQ  jjfg  („  ijg  produced  during  our  life,  and  to  be 
<.>;■...)•<  ..1  in  our  spirit  and  conduct,  cannot  be  doubted;  and  we  may 
i.r:i  i-i.  whether  ihey  are  required  of  us  in  perfection  and  maturity? 
il  ->.  in  this  degree  of  maturity  and  perfection,  they  necessarily  sup- 
J^'»v  the  tuiifo  saiiciificatioii  of  the  soul  from  the  opposite  and  antago- 


.jiiiO 

,  then,  i 

s   reduced  to  lliis 

lion 

as  to  exi 

hide 

he  op|)ositi_ 

attai 

iment? 

Iflh 

■V  are  not, 

hear 

s  ;  then 

we  must  be   son 

case 

arc  wc 

to  in! 

crprri  that 

hath 

reqiiirei 

1  of  t 

s,  and   pro 

pcrfectinn  me 

u.t  (a 

id  let  il  b. 

and 

nu?t  me 

n  SOI 

vtluuL;)  be 

time 

sinfnll 

•  aiigr 

y,  and   ma^ 

God 

and  the 

creatL 

re,  we  ma 

ihc  term  to  n 

r.od  w 

ards  and  to 

136  Christian  Perfection.  [Janiian-, 

nist  evils.  Meekness,  in  its  jierfeetion,  supposes  the  extinction  of  all 
sinful  anger:  perfect  love  to  GnA  supposes  that  no  affection  remains 
contrary  to  it ;  and  so  of  every  oilier  p(-rfcct  internal  virtue.  The  in- 
.  whethin-  these  graces,  in  such  pcrfec- 
■  corruptions  of  the  heart,  are  of  possible 
then  w  c  cannot  love  God  with  our  whole 
iriinies  siiifullv  angry  :  and  how,  in  that 
jinj,r!n€ss  in  these  graces  which  God 
linked  10  US,  in  the  gospel?  For  if  the 
;  obser\ed  that  this  is  a  Scriptural  term, 
so  cr.niparative  as  that  we  may  be  some- 
V  soiiiriimcs  divide  our  hearts  between 
y  apply  the  same  comparative  sense  of 
iriiod  works,  as  well  as  to  good  aH'ections. 
Thus,  wlicn  the  apostle  jirays  (or  the  Hebrews, '  Now  the  God  of  peace 
that  brought  again  from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus,  that  great  Shepherd 
of  the  sheep,  through  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant,  make  you 
perfect  in  every  good  vnrk,  to  d  i  his  will,'  we  must  understand  this  per- 
fection of  evangelical  good  work--  so  iliat  it  shall  sometimes  give  place 
to  opposite  evil  works,  j\ist  as  good  afl'ections  must  necessarily  some- 
times give  place  to  the  opposite  bad  afi'ections.  This  \iew  can  scarcely 
be  soberly  entertained  liy  any  enlightened  Christian;  and  it  must, 
therefore,  be  concluded  that  tiie  standard  of  our  attainable  Christian 
perfection,  as  to  the  alleciioi,-.,  \-  a  love  (if  God  so  perfect  as  to  'rule 
the  heart,  and  exclude  all  Ii^■;llry,  and  a  meekness  so  perfect  as  to 
cast  out  all  sinful  auirer.  and  prevent  its  return  ;'  and  that  as  to  cood 
works,  the  rule  is,  that  we  shall  be  so  'perfect  in  every  good  work"  as 
to  '  do  the  will  of  God'  habitually,  fully,  and  constantly.  If  we  fix  the 
standard  lower,  we  let  in  a  licence  loiidly  inconsistent  with  that  Chris- 
tian purity  which  is  allowcil  by  all  to  be  aitaiiiahle  ;  and  we  make  every 
man  himself  his  own  interpretrr  of  tint  cinpnrativc  perfection  which  is 
often  contended  fur  as  that  only  which  is  attainable. 

"  Some,  it  is  true,  admit  the  '  \!ent  of  the  promises  and  the  require- 
ments of  the  gospel  as  we  lino  st:ited  them;  but  they  contend  that 
this  is  the  mark  at  which  we  are  to  dim,  the  standard  toward  which  we 
are  to  aspire,  though  neither  is  attainable  fully  till  death.  But  this  view 
cannot  be  true  as  applied  to  smflifcatiou,  or  deliverance  from  all  in- 
ward and  outward  sin.  'J'hat  the  ilrgree  of  every  virtue  implanted  by 
grace  is  not  limited,  but  advances  and  grows  in  tho  living  Christian 
lyiroughout  life,  may  be  granted  ;  and  through  eternity,  also  :  but  to  say 
that  these  virtues  arc  not  attainable,  through  the  work  of  the  Spirit,  in 
that  degree  which  shall  destroy  all  opposite  vice,  is  to  say,  that  God, 
under  tho  gospel,  requires  ns  to  be  what  we  cannot  be,  either  through 
want  of  cfhcacy  in  his  grace,  or  I'rom  some  defect  in  its  administration  ; 
neither  of  which  litis  any  countenance  from  Scripture,  nor  is  at  all  con- 
sistent with  the  terms  in  whicli  the  promises  and  exhortations  of  the 
gospel  arc  expressed.  It  is  also  contradicted  by  our  own  conscious- 
ness, which  charges  our  criminal  neghjcts  and  failures  upon  ourselves, 
and  not  upon  the  grace  of  God,  as  though  it  were  insufllcient.  Either 
the  consciences  of  good  men  have  in  all  ages  been  delusive  and  over- 


1841.]  Christian  Perfection.  137 

scrupulous,  or  this  doctrine  of  the  necessary,  though  occasional,  do- 
minion of  sin  over  us  is  false. 

"  5.  The  doctrine  of  the  necessary  indwelling  of  sin  in  the  soul  till 
death,  involves  other  antiscriptural  consequences.  It  supposes  that  the 
scat  of  sin  is  in  the  flesh,  and  thus  harmonizes  with  the  pagan  philoso- 
phy, which  attributed  all  evil  to  matter.  The  doctrine  of  the  Bible,  on 
the  contrary,  is,  that  the  seat  of  sin  is  in  the  soul ;  and  it  makes  it  one 
of  the  proofs  of  the  fall  and  corruption  of  our  spiritual  nature,  that  we 
arc  in  bondage  to  the  appetites  and  motions  of  the  flesh.  Nor  does  the 
theory  which  places  the  necessity  of  sinning  in  the  connection  of  the 
soul  with  the  body,  account  for  the  whole  moral  case  of  man.  There 
are  sins,  as  pride,  covetousness,  malice,  and  others,  which  are  wholly 
spiritual ;  and  yet  no  exception  is  made  in  this  doctrine  of  the  necessary 
continuance  of  sin  till  death  as  to  them.  There  is,  surely,  no  need  to 
wait  for  the  separation  of  the  soul  from  the  body  in  order  to  be  saved 
from  evils  T.-hich  are  the  sole  offspring  of  the  spirit ;  and  yet  these  are 
made  as  inevitable  as  the  sins  which  more  immediately  connect  them- 
selves with  the  excitements  of  the  animal  nature. 

"  This  doctrine  sufiposes,  too,  that  the  (Icsh  must  necessarily  not 
only  lust  against  the  Spirit,  but  in  no  small  degree,  and  on  many  occa- 
sions, be  the  conqueror :  whereas,  we  are  commanded  to  '  mortify  the 
deeds  of  the  body  ;'  to  '  crucify'  that  is,  to  put  to  death,  '  the  flesh  ;'  '  to 
put  offlhc  old  man,'  which,  in  its  full  meaning,  must  import  separation 
from  sin  in  fact,  as  well  as  the  renunciation  of  it  in  will ;  and  •  to  put 
on  the  new  man.'  Finally,  the  apostle  expressly  states,  that  though  the 
ilesh  stands  victoriously  opposed  to  legal  sanclilication,  it  is  not  insu- 
perable by  evangelical  holiness.  'For  what  the  law  could  not  do,  in 
that  it  was  weak  through  the  flesh,  God  sending  his  own  Son  in  the 
likeness  of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin,  condemned  sin  in  the  flesli ;  that 
the  righteousness  of  the  law  might  he  fulfilled  in  us,  who  walk  not  after 
the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit,'  Rom.  viii,  3,  4.  So  inconsistent  with 
the  declarations  and  promises  of  the  gospel  is  the  notion  that,  so  long 
as  wc  are  in  the  body, '  the  flesh'  must  of  necessity  have  at  least  the 
occasional  dominion. 

"  We  conclude,  therefore,  as  to  the  time  of  our  complete  sanctifica- 
tion,  or,  to  use  the  phrase  of  the  apostle  Paul,  '  the  destruction  of  the 
body  of  sin,'  that  it  can  neither  be  referred  to  the  hour  of  death,  nor 
placed  subsequently  to  this  present  life.  The  attainment  of  perfect 
freedom  from  sin  is  one  to  which  believers  are  called  during  the  present 
life,  and  is  necessary  to  that  completeness  of  '  holiness,'  and  of  those 
active  and  passive  gi'aces  of  Christianity,  by  which  they  are  called  to 
glorify  (iod  in  this  world,  and  to  edify  mankind." 

Another  error  into  which  some  liave  fallen  upon  this  subject,  some- 
what diirerciit  indeed  from  the  one  wc  have  just  considered,  but 
equally  fatal  to  the  practical  influence  of  the  doctrine  of  sanctiiication, 
is,  that  it  is  received  at  the  moment  of  justification,  and  hence  no  dis- 
tinct blessing,  under  that  name,  is  to  be  sought  or  to  be  cxiicrtcd 
t>ubscqucmly.  Consequently  it  is  alleged  that  all  subsequent  motions 


138  Christian  Pei-fcction.  [Januarj', 

of  corruption  are  so  maii)'^  instances  of  backsliding  from  tlie  justified 
sl;iif.  Now  if  tliis  view  be  presented  b}-  Mctliodists,  it  will  not  be 
irrelevant  to  urge,  in  opposition,  the  vic^vs  of  oiu:  standard  writers. 

In  answer  to  tlrc  question,  "  Wlicn  does  sanctification  begin  ?" 
Mr.  Wesley  says,  "In  the  moment  a  man  is  justified,  (yet  sin  re- 
mains in  him,  yea,  the  seed  of  all  sin,  till  he  is  sanctified  through- 
out.) From  that  time  a  believer  gradually  dies  to  sin,  and  gi-ows 
in  grace."  Again.  In  answer  to  the  question  what  he  would  say 
to  lliosc  who  have  all  the  holy  exercise.-  and  cnjopncnts  attributed 
to  sanctified  persons  "  who  are  but  newly  justified,"  this  author 
answers  : — 

"  If  liiey  really  do,  I  will  say  they  arc  sanctified  ;  saved  from  sin  in 
that  moment ;  and  that  they  never  need  lose  what  God  lias  given,  or 
feel  sin  any  more. 

"  But  certainly  this  is  an  exempt  case.  It  is  otherwise  with  the 
generality  of  tliose  that  are  jiislified  :  they  feel  in  themselves  more  or 
h^ss  pride,  anger,  self-will,  a  heart  bent  to  backsliding.  And,  till  they 
have  gradually  mortified  these,  they  are  not  fully  renewed  in  love." 

Sir.  Fletcher  s.ays  : — 

"  We  do  not  deny  tlial  the  remains  of  the  carnal  mind  still  cleave  to 
imperfect  Christians  ;  and  llni  when  the  expression  '  carnal'  is  softened 
and  qualified,  it  may,  in  a  low  sense,  be  applied  to  such  professors  as 
those  Corinthians  were  to  whom  .St.  Paul  said,  'I  could  not  speak  to 
you  as  to  spiritual.'  But  could  not  the  aposlle  be  yet  '  spoken  to  as  a 
spiritual  man?  And  docs  he  not  allow,  that,  even  in  the  corrupted 
churches  of  Corinth  and  Galaiia,  there  were  some  truly  spiritual  men — 
some  adult,  perfect  Christians?     See  1  Cor.  xiv,  37,  and  Gal.  vi,  1.'" 

Again, — 

"  The  same  Spirit  of  faith  which  initially  purifies  our  hearts,  when 
we  cordially  believe  the  pardoning  love  of  God,  completely  cleanses 
them,  when  we  fully  believe  his  sanctifying  love." 

In  addition  to  these  quotations,  which  certainly  suppose  sancti- 
jrcation  subsequent  to,  and  not  always  immediately  connected  with 
justification,  we  m;iy  refer  to  this  author's  "Address  to  Imperfect 
Believers,"  the  whole  of  which  proceeds  upon  the  supposition  that 
there  is  a  class  of  "believers,"  and,  of  course,  persons  who  are 
justified,  who  are  not  yet  sanctified.  Upon  the  principle  imder 
consideration,  that  masterly  cfTorl,  and,  if  we  rightly  judge,  the  best 
part  of  the  treatise,  is  grossly  absurd.  For  it  is  a  strong  efl'ort  to 
urge  on  "believers"  to  an  attaiinnciit  which  they  have  already 
reached,  and  which  is  a  necessary  concomitant  of  justifying  faith. 


1641.]  Christian  Perfection.  139 

Finally,  we  may  urge,  that  as  ministers  in  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church,  v,-e  have  fully  set  our  seal  to  the  doctrLne  of  \Vesley 
and  Fletcher  upon  this  point.  In  the  Discipline,  chap,  i,  sec.  i.x, 
quest.  4,  "  Wliat  method  do  we  use  in  receiving  a  preacher  at  the 
conference  ?"  the  answer  is, — 

"  After  solemn  fasting  and  prayer,  every  person  proposed  shall  then 
bo  asked,  before  the  conferouee,  the  following  questions,  (with  any 
others  which  may  be  thought  necessary,)  viz. : — Have  you  faith  in 
Christ  ?  Are  you  going  on  to  perfection  ?  Do  you  expect  to  be  made 
perfect  in  love  in  this  life  1     Are  you  groaning  after  it  ?" 

Here  we  say  we  "  have  faith  in  Christ,"  and  that  we  are  (not 
already  perfect  but)  "  going  on  to  perfection,"  and  are  "  expecting 
to  be  made  perfect  in  love  in  this  life,"  and  "  are  groaning  after  it." 
Can  anjf  thing  be  plainer  than  that  justifying  "faith  in  Christ," 
and  "  perfect  love,"  ai'e  two  things,  and  that  wc  may  have  one 
without  the  other? 

From  tlie  whole  we  infer,  tliat  according  to  oiu-  standards, 
1 .  'j'herc  is  no  necessarj^  connection  between  the  blessings  of  jus- 
tification and  entire  sanctification.  2.  A  person  may  be  in  a  state 
of  justification,  and  yet  have  sin,  yea,  "  the  seed  of  all  sin  remain- 
ing in  him."  3.  It  is  the  privilege  and  duty  of  justified  behevers 
to  seek  entire  deliverance  from  inbred  sin,  as  a  second  and  distinct 
blessing. 

VVc  shall  now  give  a  few  specimens  of  the  Scripture  argument 
upon  this  point. 

Mr.  Watson  takes  the  Wesleyan  position,  and  sustains  it  by 
tv.-o  passages  of  Scripture.  In  this  we  have  the  authority  of  the 
Scn])tiire  and  of  Mr.  Watson  united.     This  author  proceeds  : — 

"  That  a  distinction  exists  between  a  regenerate  state  and  a  slate  of 
entire  and  perfect  holiness  will  be  generally  allowed.  Regeneration, 
wc  have  seen,  is  concomitant  with  justification ;  but  the  apostles,  in 
addressing  the  body  of  believers  in  the  churches  to  whom  they  wrote 
their  cpisdes,  set  before  them,  both  in  the  prayers  they  offer  in  their 
behalt",  and  in  the  exhortations  they  administer,  a  still  higher  degree  of 
deliverance  from  sin,  as  well  as  a  higher  growth  in  Christian  virtues. 
Two  passages  only  need  be  quoted  to  prove  this  : — 1  Thcss.  v,  23, 
'  .\nd  the  very  God  of  peace  sanctify  you  wholly,  and  I  pray  God  your 
whole  spirit,  and  sou],  and  body  be  preserved  blameless  imto  the  com- 
ing of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  2  Cor.  vii,  1,  '  Having  these  promises, 
di-arly  beloved,  let  us  cleanse  ourselves  from  all  fdthiness  of  the  flesh 
and  sjurit,  perfecting  holiness  in  the  fear  of  God.'  In  both  these  pas- 
sages dchverance  from  sui  is  the  subject  spoken  of;  and  the  prayer  in 


140  Christian  rcrfeclion.  [Januarj', 

one  instance,  and  the  exiiortation  in  the  other,  go  to  the  extent  of  the 
entire  sanctification  of  '  the  soul'  and  '  spirit,'  as  well  as  of  the  '  flesh' 
or  '  body,'  from  all  sin  ;  by  which  can  only  bo  meant  our  complete 
deliverance  from  all  spiritiud  polhilion,  all  inward  depravation  of  the 
heart,  as  well  as  that  which,  expressing  itself  outwardly  by  the  indul- 
gence of  the  senses,  is  callid  '  lilthiness  of  the  flesh.'" 

We  need  only  add  one  remark  here,  and  that  is,  that  tlie  pas- 
sages above  Cjuolcd  evidently  refer  to  lliose  who  are  already  in  a 
state  of  .grace.  And  though  they  liad  great  and  precious  "pro- 
mises," and  were  "  not  in  darkness,"  but  were  "  children  of  the 
light,"  still  s.  further  cleansing — an  entire  sanctification  were  set 
before  tliem.  To  this  tlicy  were  urged,  and  God  was  besought  to 
bestow  it  upon  them. 

Again :  our  blessed  Saviour,  in  praying  for  his  disciples,  for 
those  who  "were  not  of  the  work!,  as"  ho  was  "not  of  tlie  world," 
and  for  those  who  had  been  "  given"  him,  says,  "  Sanctify  them 
througli  thy  truth,  thy  word  is  truth."  Here  observe,  1.  They 
belong  to  Christ,  itc. ;  Inil,  2.  'I'hcy  arc  not  yet  sanctified,  unless, 
indeed,  Christ  prays  for  v.hnl  he  knows  was  already  done. 

Again,  (in  Ileb.  vi,  1,)  the  Hebrew  Christians,  who  must  cer- 
tainly be  considered  to  be  in  a  gracious  slate,  are  exhorted  to  "  go 
on  to  perfection,"  which  would  scarcely  be  expected  if  they  had 
already  attained  perfection. 

We  will  give  another  Script\ire  proof,  and  then  resign  the  ques- 
tion to  the  candid  reader.  In  1  Jolm  i,  7  we  read,  "  If  we  walk  in 
the  light  as  he  is  in  the  linht,  the  blood  of  .Jesus  Christ  his  Son 
cleansetli  us  from  all  sin."  ()l)serve,  1.  In  this  passage  we  are 
supposed  to  be  "in  the  liuhl,"  and,  2.  That  by  walking  in  this 
"  light"  we  may  be  cleansed  J  ram  all  sin.  To  suppose  that  tlic 
moment  we  enter  the  light  we  are  already  cleansed  from  all  sin, 
would  be  to  make  the  lan!;iin!,'e  of  this  passage  absiurd.  We  are 
nowhere  told  that  we  must  "  walk  in  the  light  as  he  is  in  the  hght" 
in  order  to  obtain  justification,  nor  would  it  be  consistent  to  urge  us 
to  do  any  thing  in  order  to  the  atlaiiinienl  of  what  we  already  most 
assuredly  have  in  jiossession. 

We  next  urge  fact  and  cxjx'riencc  against  the  views  set  up. 
■\¥ho  are  those  among  us  who  arc  concerned  for  tliis  blessing  of 
perfect  love  1  Arc  they  those  who  have  never  been  justified  ?  or 
those  who,  liaving  been  justified,  have  fallen  from  that  state  ?  Not 
these,  surely ;  but  those  who  retain  their  justification,  and  do  honor 


1841.]  Christian  Fcrfection.  141 

to  tlic  Cltrislian  name ;  those  who  are  most  active  and  useful  in 
the  churcli.  These  are  the  persons  who  are  most  alhirst  for  the 
blessing  of  a  clean  heart  and  entire  consecration  to  God. 

Again.  Is  it  not  presuming  too  far  to  suppose  tlial  iliose  who 
have  professed  lliis  high  and  holy  state  were  mistaken — that  they 
do  not  understand  tlie  character  of  their  own  experience  ?  To  say 
notliing  of  those  among  ourselves  who  iiave  made  professions  of 
this  kind,  and  have  given  the  most  indubitable  proofs  of  their  sin- 
cerity, let  us  refer  to  Messrs.  Fletcher,  Bramwell,  Carvosso,  Mrs. 
Rogers,  Mrs.  Fletcher,  Lady  ]\Iaxwcll,  and  a  host  of  others  who 
have  died  in  the  faith.  All  these  explicitly  declare  that  they 
received  a  distinct  witness  of  this  seco7id  blessing ;  that  while  in  a 
justified  state  tliey  felt  the  workings  of  inward  coiTiiption :  they 
sought  by  prayer  and  faith  for  deliverance,  and  obtained  a  clear 
and  satisfactory  evidence  of  entire  sanctificalion ;  so  that  they 
"reckoned  themselves  dead  indeed  unto  sin,  and  alive  unto  God 
through  Jesus  Christ."  Thejr  now  had  the  witness  of  perfect 
love,  distinct  from  the  witness  of  pardon  which  was  comnmnicalcd 
on  their  justification.  Now  shall  we  say  they  mistook  the  opera- 
lions  of  their  own  minds  1  This  we  might  do  if  there  were  any 
thing  in  their  experience  contrary  to  the  word  of  God,  or  if  they 
had  in  other  instances  exhibited  signs  of  mental  aberration  or  incor- 
rigible enthusiasm  we  might  be  justified  in  supposing  that  they 
were  self-deceived.  But  of  the  persons  above  named  we  can  form 
no  such  conclusion.  In  all  they  say  on  other  points,  reason  and 
■  the  true  spirit  of  the  gospel  are  ])rcdominant.  Why  sliould  we 
conchide  them  entirely  beside  themselves  here  ?  Indeed,  if  the 
gospel  remains  tlie  same  that  it  was  in  the  days  of  John  and  Paul, 
we  iiave  good  reason  to  conclude  tliem  in  their  sober  senses  even 
in  ihcir  highest  professions. 

Finally,  we  may  object  to  the  notion  that  all  who  are  justified 
arc  also  sanctified,  the  fact  that  multitudes  in  all  the  Christian 
cluuches  who  exliibit  die  fruits  of  a  state  of  justification,  and  are 
slill  destitute  of  the  gTcat  blessing  of  a  clean  heart  or  perfect  love. 
Now  what  shall  we  do  with  these  upon  the  hypothesis  here  op- 
posed? We  must  conclude,  either  that  they  were  never  really 
born  of  God,  or  that  they  have  backslidden  ;  and  so,  in  cither  case, 
they  arc  not  in  a  state  of  salvation  !  This  would  be  a  sweeping 
conclusion,  and  one  wliich  we  should  be  very  slow  to  authorize. 


142  Christian  Pnfcction.  [January, 

2.  We  shall  next  proceed  to  anticipate  several  objections  to  this 
doctrine,  and  show  liow  llicy  arc  disposed  of  by  our  authors.  Tlie 
follo\ving  is  from  Mr.  Fletcher  : — 

"  I  repeat  it,  if  our  pious  opponents  decry  tlie  doctrine  of  Christian 
perfection,  it  is  chiefly  through  misapprehension  ;  it  being  as  natural 
for  pious  men  to  recoiiimcnd  e.xidtcd  jiiety,  as  for  covetous  persons  to 
extol  great  riches.  And  lliis  niisapprcliciisioii  frequently  springs  from 
their  inaltcniion  to  the  nature  of  (.'hriaiiau  perfection.  To  prove  it,  I 
need  only  oppose  our  defMiilion  of  Chri^.liaii  perfection  to  the  objections 
which  are  most  commonly  raised  against  our  doctrine. 

"  I.  '  Your  doctrine  of  perfection  leads  to  j)ridc.'  Impossible,  if 
Christian  perfection  is  perfect  humility. 

"II.  'It  exalts  believers;  but  it  is  only  to  the  state  of  the  vain-glo- 
lious  Pharisee.'  Impossible.  If  our  perfection  is  perfect  humility,  it 
makes  us  sink  deeper  into  the  state  of  thi'  humble,  justified  publican. 

"III.  'It  fills  men  ■with  the  coucfit  of  their  own  excellence,  and 
makes  them  say  to  a  we;ik  brothor,  '•  Stnnd  by,  1  am  holier  than  thou."' 
Impossible  again.  We  do  not  jiri-acli  Pharisaic,  but  Christian  perfec- 
tion, which  consists  in  perfect  pnvcriy  of  spirit,  and  in  that  perfect 
'charity'  which  '  vauntoth  not  itself,  honors  all  men,  and  bears  with  the 
infirmities  of  the  weak.' 

"  IV.  '  It  sets  repentance  aside.'  Impossible ;  for  it  is  perfect 
repentance. 

"V.  'It  will  make  us  slight  Christ.'  More  and  more  improbable. 
How  can  perfect  fiith  in  Christ  make  us  slight  Christ  ?  Could  it  be 
more  absurd  to  say,  that  the  perfect  love  of  God  will  make  us  despise 
God? 

"  VI.  '  It  will  supersede  the  use  of  mortification  and  watchfulness  ; 
for,  if  sin  is  dead,  what  need  liavc  we  to  mortify  it,  and  to  watch 
against  it  V 

"  This  objection  has  some  plausibility:  I  shall  therefore  answer  it 
various  ways: — 1.  If  Adam,  in  a  state  of  paradisiacal  perfection,  needed 
perfect  watclii"ulness  and  perfect  luortilk-ation,  how  much  more  do  we 
need  them,  who  find  '  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil' 
planted,  not  only  in  the  midst  of  our  gardens,  but  in  the  midst  of  our 
houses,  markets,  and  churches  ?  2.  When  we  arc  delivered  from  sin, 
are  we  delivered  from  peccability  and  temptation  ?  When  the  inward 
man  of  sin  is  dead,  is  the  devil  dead?  is  liic  corruption  that  is  in  the 
world  destroyed  ?  and  have  we  not  still  our  five  senses  to  '  keep  with 
all  diligence,'  as  well  as  our  'hearts,'  that  the  tempter  may  not  enter 
into  us,  or  that  wc  may  not  enter  into  his  temptations?  Lastly:  Jesus 
Christ,  as  son  of  Mary,  was  a  perfccl  man.  But  how  was  he  kept  so 
to  the  end?  Was  it  not  liy  '  keepinij  his  mouth  with  a  bridle,  while 
the  ungodly  was  in  his  sight,'  and  by  g\iarding  all  his  senses  with  per- 
fect assiduity,  that  the  wicked  one  might  not  touch  him  to  his  hurt  ? 
And  if  Christ  our  head  Iccpt  his  liumaii  perfection  only  through  watch- 
fulness and  constant  self-denial,  is  it  not  absurd  to  suppose  that  his 
perfect  members  can  keep  their  perfection  without  treading  in  his 
steps  ? 


1841.]  Christian  Perfection.  143 

"  VII.  Another  objection  probably  stands  in  Mr.  Hill's  way :  it 
runs  thus  :  '  Your  doctrine  of  perfection  makes  it  needless  for  perfect 
Christians  to  say  the  Lord's  prayer.  For  if  God  "vouchsafes  to  keep 
lis  tliis  day  without  sin,"  we  shall  have  no  need  to  pray  at  night  that 
God  woidd  "  forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass 
against  us."' 

"We  answer:  1.  Though  a  perfect  Christian  does  not  trespass 
voluntarily,  and  break  the  law  of  love  ;  yet  ho  daily  breaks  the  law  of 
Adaniic  perfection,  through  the  imperfection  of  his  bodily  and  mental 
powers  :  and  he  has  frequently  a  deeper  sense  of  these  involuntary 
trespasses  than  many  weak  believers  have  of  their  voluntary  breaches 
of  the  moral  law.  2.  Although  a  perfect  Christian  has  a  witness  that 
his  sins  are  now  forgiven  in  the  court  of  his  conscience,  yet  he  knows 
'  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  ;'  he  hastens  to  meet  the  awful  day  of  God  ; 
he  waits  for  the  appearance  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  the  character 
of  a  righteous  Judge  ;  he  keeps  an  eye  to  the  awful  tribunal  before 
which  he  must  soon  be  justified  or  condemned  by  his  wonls  ;  he  is 
conscious  that  his  final  justification  is  not  yet  come  ;  and  therefore  he 
would  think  himself  a  monster  of  stupidit}'  and  pride,  if,  wiili  an  eve 
to  his  al)solution  in  the  great  dny,  he  scrupled  saying,  to  the  endof  his 
life,  '  Forgive  us  our  trespasses.'  3.  He  is  surrounded  with  sinners, 
who  daily  '  trespass  against  him,'  and  whom  he  is  daily  bound  to  '  for- 
give ;'  and  his  praying  that  he  may  be  forgiven  now,  and  in  the  great 
day,  '  as  he  forgives  others,'  reminds  him  that  he  may  forfeit  his  par- 
don, and  binds  him  more  and  more  to  the  performance  of  the  important 
duty  of  forgiving  his  enemies.  And,  4.  His  charity  is  so  ard(;nt,  that 
it  melts  him,  as  it  were,  into  the  common  ma.'ss  of  mankind.  IJowing 
himself,  therefore,  under  the  enormous  load  of  all  the  wiltul  trespasses 
which  his  fellow-mortals,  and  particularly  his  relatives  and  Iiis  bre- 
thren, daily  commit  against  God,  he  says,  with  a  fervor  that  iinpcrfect 
Christians  seldom  feel,  '  Forgive  us  our  trespasses,'  etc.  '  \Ve  are 
heartily  sorry  lor  our  misdoings,  (my  own,  and  those  of  my  fillow- 
sinncrs,)  the  remembrance  of  them  is  grievous  unto  us,  the  biuJi  n  of 
them  is  intolerable.'  Nor  do  we  doubt  but  when  the  spirit  of  mourning 
leads  a  numerous  assembly  of  supplicants  into  the  vale  of  liimiiliation, 
the  person  who  puts  the  shoulder  of  faith  most  readily  to  the  conunon 
burden  of  sin,  and  heaves  the  most  powerfully,  in  order  to  roll  the 
enormous  load  into  the  Redeemer's  grave,  is  the  most  perfect  penitent, 
the  most  exact  observer  of  tlie  apostolic  precept,  '  Bear  ye  one  an- 
other's burdens,  and  so  fulfd  the  law  of  Christ ;'  and,  of  consequence, 
we  do  not  scruple  to  say,  that  such  a  person  is  the  most  perfect  Chris- 
tian in  llie  whole  assembly. 

"If  Mr.  Hill  considers  these  answers,  we  doubt  not  but  he  will 
confess  that  his  opposition  to  Christian  perfection  chiefly  sjirings  from 
his  inattention  to  our  definition  of  it,  which  I  once  more  sum  up  in 
these  comprehensive  lines  of  i\Ir.  Wesley  : — 

'  O  let  mo  gain  perfection's  liciglit ! 
O  let  nie  into  nothing  fall ! 
(As  less  than  nolliinj  m  thy  sight) 
And  feel  that  Christ  is  all  in  ail !' 


144  Christian  I'crfcdion.  [January, 

"  VIII.  Our  opponents  produce  another  plausible  objection,  wliicli 
runs  thus  ; — '  It  is  plain  Irom  your  account  of  Clirisiian  perfection, 
that  adult  believers  are  free  from  sin,  their  hearts  being  puriilcd  by 
perfect  faith,  and  filled  with  perfect  love.  Now,  sin  is  that  which 
humbles  us,  and  drives  us  to  Christ  ;  and  therefore,  if  we  were  free 
from  indwelling  sin,  we  should  lose  a  most  powerful  incentive  to  hu- 
mility, which  is  the  greatest  ornament  of  a  true  Christian.' 

"We  answer:  Sin  never  liumbled  any  soul.  Who  has  more  sin 
than  Satan  ?  And  who  is  provider  ?  Did  sin  make  our  first  parents 
humble  ?  If  it  did  not,  why  do  our  brethren  suppose  that  its  nature  is 
altered  for  the  better  ?  A\'ho  was  Immbler  than  Christ  ?  But  was  he 
indebted  to  sin  for  his  humility?  Do  we  not  see  daily  that  the  more 
sinful  men  are,  the  prouder  they  arc  also  ?  Did  Mr.  Hill  never  ob- 
serve, that  the  holier  a  believiT  is,  the  humbler  he  shows  himself? 
And  what  is  holiness,  but  the  reverse  of  sin?  If  sin  is  necessary  to 
make  us  humble,  and  to  keep  us  near  Christ,  does  it  not  follow  that 
glorified  saints,  whom  all  aeknowlediic  to  be  sinless,  arc  all  proud 
despiscrs  of  Christ  ?  If  humility  is  obedience,  and  if  sin  is  disobedi- 
ence, is  it  not  as  absurd  to  say  that  sin  will  make  us  humble, — that  is, 
obedient, — as  it  is  to  aflirni  tliat  reliellion  will  make  us  loyal,  and 
adultery  chaste  ?  Sec  we  not  sin  enough,  when  we  look  ten  or  twenty 
3-ears  back,  to  humble  us  to  the  dust  for  ever,  if  sin  can  do  it?  Need 
we  plead  for  any  more  of  it  in  our  hearts  or  lives  ?  If  the  sins  of  our 
youth  do  not  humble  us,  arc  the  sins  of  our  old  age  likely  to  do  it?  If 
wc  contend  for  the  life  of  the  man  of  sin,  that  he  may  subdue  our 
pride,  do  we  not  take  a  largo  stride  after  those  who  say,  '  Let  us  sin, 
that  grace  may  abound  ;  let  us  continue  full  of  indwelling  sin,  that  hu- 
mility may  increase  V  What  is,  after  all,  the  evangclic^il  method  of 
getting  humility?  Is  it  not  to  look  at  Christ  in  the  manger,  in  Geth- 
semane,  or  on  the  cross  ?  to  consider  him  when  he  washes  his  disci- 
ples' feet  ?  and  obediently  to  listen  to  him  when  ho  says,  '  Learn  of  me 
lo  be  meek  and  lowly  in  heart  V  ^\'herc  does  the  gospel  plead  the 
cause  of  the  Barabbas  and  the  thieves  within?  Where  docs  it  say 
that  they  may  indeed  be  nailed  to  the  cross,  and  have  their  legs  broken, 
but  that  their  life  must  be  left  whole  within  them,  lest  wo  should  be 
proud  of  their  death?  Lastlj- :  what  is  indwelling  sin  l)ut  indwelling 
pride?  At  least,  is  not  inbred  pride  one  of  the  chief  ingredients  of 
indwelling  sin?  And  how  can  priiie  be  productive  of  humility?  Can 
a  serpent  beget  a  dove  ?  And  will  not  men  gather  grapes  from  thorns, 
sooner  than  humility  of  heart  from  liaui;htiness  of  spirit? 

"  IX.  The  strange  mistake  which  1  delect  woidd  not  bo  so  prevalent 
among  our  |irejudiced  brethren,  if  they  were  not  deceived  by  the  plau- 
sibility of  the  following  art'innenl : — '  When  believers  are  humbled  for 
a  thing,  they  are  humbled  by  it.  But  believers  arc  humbled  for  sin ; 
and  therefore  they  are  humbled  by  sin.' 

"  The  (law  of  this  argument  is  in  the  first  proposition.  We  readily 
grant,  that  penitents  are  humbled  for  sin  ;  or,  in  other  terms,  that  they 
humbly  repent  of  sin  :  but  we  deny  that  they  are  humbled  by  sin.  To 
show  the  absurdity  of  the  whole  argument,  I  need  only  produce  a 
sopliism  exactly  parallel :  '  \\'hcn  people  are  blooded  for  a  thing,  they 


1841.1  Christian  Pcrfeclion.  145 

arc  blooJeJ  by  it.  But  people  are  sometimes  blooclod  for  a  cold  ;  and 
tlicrefore  people  arc  sometimes  blooded  by  a  cold.'" 

Wc  add  to  the  foregoing  the  following  extraordinary  argtiincnl 
from  Mr.  Toplady,  and  Mr.  Fletcher's  answer ;  not  because  much 
will  be  added  to  the  strength  of  the  objections  or  the  defense,  but 
as  showing  one  variety  of  the  objections  with  which  tliis  doctrine 
lias  ever  been  met  in  a  very  clear  light. 

"  '  A  person  of  the  amplest  fortune  cannot  help  the  harboring  of 
snakes,  toads,  ifcc.,  on  his  lands  ;  but  they  will  breed,  and  nestle,  and 
crawl  about  his  estate,  whether  he  will  or  no.  All  he  can  do  is  to 
pursue  and  kill  them  whenever  they  make  iheir  appearance  ;  yet  let 
him  be  ever  so  vigilant  and  diligent,  there  will  always  be  a  succession 
of  those  creatures  to  exercise  his  patience,  and  e.vgaoe  iiis  in- 
DUSTRV.  So  it  is  with  the  true  believer  in  respect  of  indwelling  sin.' 
Caveat  against  unsound  doctrine,  page  54.     To  this  wc  answer : — 

"  1.  From  the  clause  which  I  produce  in  capitals  in  this  argument, 
one  would  think  that  patience  and  industry  cannot  bo  properly  exer- 
cised without  indwelling  sin.  If  so,  does  it  not  follow,  that  our  Lord's 
))atience  and  industry  always  wanted  proper  exercise,  because  he  was 
always  perfectly  free  from  indwelling  sin  ?  We  are  of  a  dillerenf  sen- 
timent with  respect  to  our  Lord's  Christian  virtues  ;  and  we  apprehend 
that  the  ])atience  and  industry  of  the  most  perfect  believer  will  always, 
without  the  opposition  of  indwelling  sin,  lind  fidl  exercise  in  doing 
and  s\ifrcring  the  whole  will  of  God ;  in  keeping  the  body  under,  in 
striving  against  the  sin  of  others,  in  testifying  by  word  and  deed  that 
the  works  of  the  world  are  evil,  in  resisting  the  numberless  tempta- 
tions of  him  who  '  goes  about  as  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may 
devour  ;'  and  in  preparing  to  conflict  with  the  king  of  terrors. 

"2.  AVhy  could  not  assiduous  vigilance  clear  an  estate  of  snakes,  as 
one  of  our  kings  cleared  Great  Britain  of  wolves  I  Did  he  not  attempt 
and  accomplish  what  appeared  impossible  to  less  resolute  minds?  Mr. 
Toplady  is  too  well  acquainted  with  the  classics  not  to  know  what  the 
heathens  ihcmsclves  have  said  of  industry  and  love: — 

'  Omnia  vincit  amor. 
Labor  improbus  omnia  vineit.' 

If  'love  and  incessant  labor  overcome  the  greatest  difliculties,'  what 
cannot  a  diligent  believer  do  who  is  animated  by  the  love  of  God,  and 
focls  that  he  '  can  do  all  things  through  Christ,  who  strengthencth 
him  V 

"  .3.  But  the  capital  flaw  of  Mr.  Toplady's  argument  consists  in  so 
considering  the  weakness  of  free-will,  as  entirely  to  leave  God,  and 
the  sanctifying  power  of  his  Spirit,  out  of  the  question.'  That  gentle- 
man forgets,  that  'for  this  purpose  the  Son  of  God'  (who  is  '  Lord  God 
omiiipoiciii')  '  was  manifested,  that  he  might  destroy  the  v.-orks  of  the 
uevil,'  Nor  does  he  consider  that  a  worm,  assisted  by  omnipotence 
iisrll,  is  capable  of  the  greatest  achievements.  Of  this  we  have  an 
illustrious  instance  in  Moses,  with  respect  to  the  removal  of  the  lice. 


14G  Chrislian  Peifcction.  [Januar)% 

the  frogs,  and  the  locusts:  'Moses  cnlrented  the  Lord,  and  the  Lord 
turned  a  mighty  strong  west  wind,  whicli  took  away  the  locusts,  and 
cast  them  into  the  Red  Sea;  there  remained  not  one  locust  in  all  the 
xjoasts  of  Egypt,'  Exodus  x,  19.  If  Mr.  Toplady  had  not  forgot  the 
mighty  God  with  whom  Moses  and  believers  h.ive  to  do;  he  would 
never  have  supposed  that  the  comparison  holds  good  between  Christ 
cleansing  the  though'.s  and  heart  of  a  praying  believer  by  the  inspira- 
tion of  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  a  man  who  can  by  no  means  destroy  the 
snakes  and  loads  that  breed,  nestle,  and  crawl  about  his  estate. 

"4.  The  reverend  author  of  the  Caveat  sinks,  in  this  argument, 
cren  below  the  doctrine  of  heathen  moralists.  For,  suppose  the  ex- 
tirpation of  a  vicious  habit  were  considered,  would  not  a  heathen  be 
inexcusable  if  he  overlooked  the  succor  and  inspiration  of  the  Almighty? 
And  what  shall  we  say  of  a  gospel  minister  who,  writing  upon  the  de- 
struction of  sin,  entirely  overlooks  what,  at  other  times,  he  calls  the 
'sovereign,  malchles.s,  all-conquering,  irresistible'  power  of  dirine 
grace,  which,  if  we  believe  him,  is  absolutely  to  do  all  in  us  and  for 
us?  who  insinuates,  that  the  toad — jiride,  and  the  viper — envy,  must 
continue  to  nestle  and  crawl  in  our  breasts  for  want  of  ability  to  destroy 
them;  and  who  concludes  that  the  extirpation  of  sin  is  impossible,  be- 
cause we  cannot  bring  it  about  by  our  own  strength  ?  Just  as  if  the 
power  of  God,  which  helps  our  infirmities,  did  not  deserve  a  thought! 
Who  does  not  see,  that  v.'hen  a  divine  argues  in  this  manner,  he  puts 
his  bushel  upon  the  light  of  Christ's  victorious  grace,  hides  this  sin- 
killing  and  heart-cleansing  li^ht,  and  then  absurdly  concludes,  that  the 
darkness  of  sin  must  necessarily  remain  in  all  believers?  Thus,  if  I 
mistake  not,  it  appears  that  .Mr.  Toplady's  argument  in  favor  of  the 
death-purgatory  is  contrary  to  history,  experience,  and  genfilism  ;  and 
how  much  more  to  Christianity,  and  to  the  honor  of  Hiin  who  to  the 
uttermost  saves  his  believing  people  from  their  heart-toads  and  bosom- 
vipers,  when  they  go  to  him  for  this  great  salvation !" 

But  there  arc  several  passages  of  Scripture  which  are  supposed 
to  be  exjjlicitly  against  this  doctrine.  We  shall  consider  some  of 
the  strongest  of  those,  though  it  will  not  coinport  with  our  limits  to 
consider  them  all,  or  to  go  througli  with  a  pruiracled  investigation 
of  any  of  them. 

We  shall  fir.st  notice  two  passages  from  Solomon.  The  first  is, 
(1  Kings  viii,  46,)  "  There  is  no  man  that  sinnelh  not."  Upon  this 
passage  Dr.  Clarke  says  : — 

"  On  this  verse  we  may  observe  that  the  second  clause,  as  it  is  here 
translated,  renders  the  supposition  in  the  first  clause  entirely  nugatorj' ; 
for  if  there  be  no  man  that  sinnrth  not,  i(  is  useless  to  say,  ik  thoj  sin  ; 
but  this  contradiction  is  taken  away  by  reference  to  the  original,  O 
-^  ixan'  ki  ycchetu  lack,  which  should  be  translated  if  they  shall  sin 
against  thcc,  or  should  they  sin  against  thee  ;  NOn'  n'?  Ityx  ms  px  O  ki 
cin  Adam  asher  lt>  yecheta,  for  there  is  no  man  that  hay  not  sin ;  i.  c., 
there  is  no  man  impeccable,  none  infallible,  none  that  is  not  liable  to 


184).]  Christian  Perfection.  147 

transgress.  This  is  the  true  meaning  of  the  phrase  in  various  parts 
of  tlie  liiblc,  ami  so  our  translators  have  understood  the  original :  for 
even  in  the  thirty-first  verse  of  this  chapter  they  have  translated  NUn' 
yechcia,  if  a  man  tki:spass  ;  which  certainly  implies  he  mii:;ht  or  mii;}it 
nut  do  it ;  and  in  this  way  they  have  translated  the  same  word,  if  a  svul 
SIX,  in  Lev.  v,  1  ;  vi,  2  ;  1  Sam.  ii,  25  ;  2  Chron.  vi,  22,  and  in  several 
other  places.  The  truth  is,  the  Hebrew  has  no  mood  to  express  words 
in  the  permissive  or  optative  way,  but  to  express  this  sense  it  uses  the 
fittuic  tense  of  the  conjugation  kal. 

"  This  text  has  been  a  wonderful  stronghold  for  all  who  believe  that 
there  is  no  redemption  from  sin  in  this  life,  that  no  man  can  live  with- 
out committing  sin,  and  that  we  cannot  be  entirely  freed  from  it  till  we 
die.  I.  The  text  speaks  no  such  doctrine  :  it  only  speaks  of  the  pos- 
sihility  of  every  man  sinning,  and  this  must  be  true  of  a  state  of  proba- 
tion. 2.  There  is  not  another  text  in  the  divine  records  that  is  more 
to  the  purpose  than  this.  3.  The  doctrine  is  flatly  in  opposition  to  the 
design  of  the  gospel ;  for  Jesus  came  to  save  his  people  from  their 
sins,  and  to  destroy  the  works  of  the  devil.  4.  It  is  a  dangerous  and 
destructive  doctrine,  and  should  be  blotted  out  of  every  Chrisliau's 
creed.  There  are  too  many  who  are  seeking  to  excuse  their  crimes 
by  all  means  in  their  power ;  and  we  need  not  imbody  their  excuses 
in  a  creed,  to  complete  their  deception,  by  stating  that  their  sins  are 
unavoidable." 

The  next  is,  (Eccles.  vii,  20,)  "  There  is  not  a  just  man  upon 
earth  that  doeth  good  and  sinneth  not."  This  passage  should  be 
interpreted  like  tlie  foregoing,  as  Dr.  Clai-ke  shows.  His  para- 
phrase is  as  follows  : — 

"  surr  xS  lo  yechla,  that  may  not  sin.  There  is  not  a  man  upon 
earth,  however  just  he  may  be,  and  habituated  to  do  good,  but  is  pec- 
cable— liable  to  commit  sin  ;  and  therefore  should  continually  watch 
and  pray,  and  depend  upon  the  Lord.  But  the  text  does  not  say,  the 
just  man  does  commit  sin,  but  simply  that  lie  may  sin ;  and  so  our  trans- 
lators have  rendered  it  in  1  Sam.  ii,  25,  twice  in  1  Kings  viii,  31,  -iG, 
and  2  Chron.  vi,  36." 

A  passage  from  St.  James  is  often  brought  fonvard  in  opposi- 
tion to  this  doctrine,  viz.,  chap,  iii,  verse  2 :  "In  many  things  wc 
offend  all."     To  tliis  Mr.  Wesley  rephes  : — 

"True;  but  who  are  the  persons  here  spoken  of?  Why,  those 
many  masters  or  teachers  whom  God  had  not  sent ;  not  the  apostle 
himself,  nor  any  real  Christian.  That  in  the  word  u-c,  used  by  a  figure 
of  speech,  common  in  all  other  as  well  as  the  inspired  writings,  the 
apostle  could  not  possibly  include  himself,  or  any  other  true  believer, 
appears,  First,  from  the'  ninth  verse,  'Therewith  bless  we  God,  and 
tiiorrwith  curse  we  men.'  Surely  not  we  apostles!  not  wc  believers! 
Secondly,  from  the  words  preceding  the  text :  '  My  brethren,  bo  not 
many  masters,'  or  teachers,  '  knowing  that  we  shall  receive  the  greater 


148  Christian  Perfection.  [January, 

condemnation.  For  in  many  tliinjrs  wc  ofTcnd  all.'  Wc !  Who? 
Not  the  apostles,  nor  true  believers,  but  they  who  were  to  '  receive 
the  greater  condemnation,'  because  of  those  many  ollencf-s.  Nay, 
Thirdly,  the  verse  itself  ])roves  that  '  we  offend  all,'  cannot  be  sjioken 
either  of  all  men  or  all  Christians.  For  in  it  immediately  follows  the 
mention  of  a  man  who  'oft'cnds  not,'  ns  the  wc  iirst  mentioned  did; 
from  whom  therefore  he  is  jirofessedly  contradistinguished,  and  pro- 
nounced a  '  perfect  man.'  " 

Again,  it  is  urged  that  8t.  John  is  against  tliis  doctrine,  for  he 
says:  "If  wc  say  tliat  wc  have  no  sin,  wo  deceive  ourselves;" 
and,  "  If  we  say  wc  have  not  sinned,  wc  make  him  a  liar,  and  his 
word  is  not  in  us."     To  this  ihc  same  divine  replies  : — 

"I  answer,  (1.)  The  tenth  verse  fixes  the  sense  of  the  eighth:  'If 
we  say  we  have  no  sin,'  in  th<^  former,  being  explained  by,  '  If  we  say 
we  have  not  sinned,'  in  the  latter  verse.  (2.)  The  point  under  consi- 
deration is  not,  whether  we  have  or  have  not  sinned  heretofore  ;  and 
neither  of  these  verses  asscrls  that  wc  do  sin,  or  commit  sin  now. 
(3.)  The  ninth  verse  explains  lioth  the  eighth  and  tenth:  'If  wc  con- 
fess our  sins,  he  is  faithful  and  ju-.i  to  fori;ive  ns  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse 
us  from  all  unrighlcoiisiiess.'  As  if  he  had  said,  'I  have  before  af- 
firmed the  blood  of  Christ  cleaiiselh  from  all  sin.'  And  no  man  can 
say,  'I  need  it  not;  I  have  no  sin  to  be  cleansed  from.'  '  If  we  say 
we  have  no  sin,'  that  '  we  have  not  sinned,  we  deceive  ourselves,'  and 
make  God  a  liar:  but  '  if  we  confess  our  sins,  ho  is  faithful  and  just,' 
not  only  '  to  forgive  us  our  sins,'  but  also  '  to  cleanse  us  from  all  im- 
righteousness,'  thai  we  may  'go  and  sin  no  more.'" 

The  last  passage  we  shall  i>oticc  among  those  which  are  em- 
ployed against  the  doctrine  of  Cliristian  perfection  is  the  seventh 
chapter  of  Romans.  In  that  cliajilcr  St.  Paid  says,  "  I  am  carnal, 
sold  under  sin,"  &c.  And  surely,  it  is  urged,  we,  in  these  days, 
need  not  expect  to  attain  a  Itighcr  state  of  perfection  than  St.  Paul 
had  attained. 

We  need  not  licre  go  into  an  r\]iosition  of  lliis  part  of  St.  Paul's 
epistle,  and  a  vindication  of  his  character  from  what,  to  say  tlie 
least,  evidently  amounts  to  a  charge  of  gross  inconsistency,  but 
shall  content  ourselves  with  simply  giving  the  general  views  of  this 
important  and  interesting  portion  of  Holy  Scripture,  taken  by  our 
authors,  and  with  showing  that  tlicy  are  sustained  in  their  views  by 
some  of  the  most  eminent  roinnientators  of  ancient  and  modern 
times. 

Mr.  Wesley,  in  liis  note  tipon  verse  7,  says  : — 

"This  is  a  kind  of  digression  (lo  the  beginning  of  the  next  chapter) 
wherein  the  apostle,  in  order  lo  show,  in  the  most  lively  manner,  the 


18-11.]  Christian  Perfection.  149 


weakness  and  ineftkiGncy  of  tlie  law,  changes  the  person,  and  spenks 
as  of  hhnself  concerning  the  misery  of  one  under  the  law.  This 
St.  Paul  frequently  docs  when  he  is  not  speaking  of  his  own  person, 
but  only  assuming  another  character,  Rom.  iii,  6  ;  1  Cor.  x,  30,  chap. 
iv,  G.  'I'hc  ch::raclcr  here  assumed,  is  that  of  a  man,  first  ignorant  of 
the  law,  then  under  it,  and  sincerely  but  ineiTcctually  striving  to  serve 
God.  To  have  spoken  this  of  himself,  or  any  true  believer,  would  have 
been  foreign  to  the  M'hole  scope  of  his  discourse  ;  nay,  utterly  contrary 
lliereto ;  as  well  as  to  what  is  expressly  asserted  chap,  viii,  2." 

Tliis  view  ihe  reader  will  find  canied  out  and  fitlly  sustained  by 
l\Ir.  Fletcher,  and  by  Dr.  Clarke,  Dr.  Coke,  and  Mr.  Benson,  in 
their  coimnentaries  in  loc. 

Some  of  tlie  most  learned  commentators  who  may  be  presumed 
to  dissent  from  our  doctrine  of  Chiistian  perfection,  nevertheless 
take  the  same  view  of  Romans  vii,  which  is  taken  by  our  own 
divines  and  commentators.  For  which,  see  Dr.  Macknight  on  the 
E])istles,  Professor  Stuart's  Commentary  on  Romans,  and  Dr. 
Blooinficld's  Critical  Digest,  in  loc. 

After  thus  much  upon  the  most  important  proof-texts  wliich  are 
relied  upon  by  those  who  plead  for  the  nccessai)'  continuance  of 
indwelling  sin,  we  will  now  notice  a  few  passages  which  our  au- 
tliors  adduce  to  prove  the  opposite  doctrine. 

Mr.  Wesley,  in  liis  Plain  Account  of  Cliristian  Perfection,  pre- 
sents the  following  summary  of  Scripture  proof,  wliicli,  together 
with  his  terse  and  appropriate  ri!marks,  we  introduce  as  the 
best  Scripture  argimient  which  we  have  found  within  so  small  a 
compass : — 

"'He  shall  redeem  Israel  from  all  his  sins,'  Psalm  cxxx,  8.  This 
i.";  more  largely  expressed  in  the  prophecy  of  Ezckiel :  'Then  v.ill  I 
.sprinkle  clean  water  upon  you,  and  yc  shall  be  clean  ;  from  all  your 
filihiiiess  and  from  all  your  idols  will  I  cleanse  you  :  I  will  also  save 
you  from  all  your  uncleannesscs,'  xxxvi,  25,  29.  No  promise  can  be 
more  clear.  And  to  this  the  apostle  plainly  refers  in  that  exhortation  : 
'  Having  these  promises,  let  us  cleanse  ourselves  from  all  fdthincss  of 
flesh  and  spirit,  perfecting  holiness  in  the  fear  of  God,'  2  Cor.  vii,  1. 
LqiiLilly  clear  and  express  is  that  ancient  promise  :  '  The  Lord  thy 
God  will  circm)icisc  thy  heart,  and  the  heart  of  thy  seed,  to  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  and  with  all  thy  soul,'  Deut.  xxx,  6. 

'■  Q.  But  does  any  assertion  answerable  to  this  occur  iu  the  New 
Testament  1 

i'  i^'  '^^^'■°  "^ocs,  and  that  laid  down  in  the  plainest  terms.  So 
1  John  111,  8 :  'For  this  purpose  the  Son  of  God  was  manifested,  that 
ho  might  destroy  the  works  of  the  devil ;'  the  works  of  the  devil,  with- 
ODt  any  limitation  or  restriction  ;  but  all  sin  is  the  work  of  the  devil. 

\'oi,.  I. — 10 


150  Christian  Perfection.  [Jaiiuary, 

Parallel  to  which  is  the  assertion  of  St.  Paul :  '  Christ  loved  the 
church,  and  gave  him!5elf  for  it,  that  ho  mit;ht  present  it  to  himself  a 
glorious  church,  not  having  spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing,  but 
that  it  might  bo  holy  and  without  blemish,'  Eph.  v,  25-27. 

"  And  to  the  same  cil'ect  is  his  assertion  in  the  eighth  of  the  Ro- 
mans, verses  3,  4  :  '  God  sent  his  Son,  that  the  righteousness  of  the 
law  might  lie  fulfilled  in  us,  who  walk  not  after  the  llesh,  but  after  the 
Spirit.' 

"  Q.  Does  the  New  Testament  aflbrd  any  further  ground  for  expect- 
ing to  be  saved  from  all  sin  ? 

"  A.  Undoubtedly  it  docs  ;  both  in  those  prayers  and  commands, 
■which  are  equivalent  to  the  strongest  assertions. 

"  Q.  What  prayers  do  you  mean  1 

"  A.  Prayers  for  entire  sanclification  ;  which,  were  there  no  such 
thing,  would  be  mere  mockery  of  God.  Such  in  particular  are, 
(1.)  'Deliver  ns  from  evil.'  Now,  when  this  is  done,  when  we  are 
delivered  from  all  evil,  there  can  be  no  sin  remaining.  (2.)  '  Neither 
pray  I  for  these  alone,  but  for  them  also  who  shall  believe  on  me 
through  their  word  ;  that  they  all  may  be  one  ;  as  thou,  Father,  art  in 
mc  and  I  in  thee,  that  they  also  maybe  one  in  us  ;  I  in  them,  and  thou 
in  me,  that  they  may  bo  made  perfect  in  one,'  John  xvii,  20-23.  (3.)  'I 
bow  my  knees  unto  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that 
he  would  grant  you  that  ye,  being  rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  may 
be  able  to  compri-hend,  with  all  saints,  ^\■hat  is  the  breadth,  and  length, 
and  depth,  and  height,  and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ,  which  passeth 
knowledge,  that  ye  may  be  fdled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God,'  Eph.  iii, 
14,  &c.  (4.)  '  The  very  God  of  peace  sanctify  you  wholly.  And  I 
pray  God,  your  whole  spirit,  soul,  and  body  may  be  preserved  blame- 
less unto  the  coming  of  our  ]jOn\  Jesus  Christ,'  1  Thess.  v,  23. 

"  Q.  "What  command  is  there  to  the  same  effect  ? 

"A.  (1.)  'lie  ye  perfect,  as  your  Father  who  is  in  heaven  is  per- 
fect,' Matt.  V,  48.  (2.)  '  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soid,  and  with  all  thy  mind,'  Matt,  xxii,  37. 
But  if  the  love  of  God  fill  all  the  heart,  there  can  be  no  sin  therein." 

But  if  tlie  reader  wishes  a  more  general  and  comprehensive  view 
of  ihe  argument  from  tlie  Bible,  he  is  refenxd  to  Mr.  Fletcher's 
"  Last  Check  to  Aiitinomiani.sm,"  wliere  he  will  be  entirely  satis- 
fied, if  his  eyes  arc  not  blinded  by  prejudice,  that  the  doctrine  wc 
contend  for  is  not  only  implied  in  a  inullitude  of  instances,  in  requi- 
sitions, in  promises,  and  in  examples,  but  is  expressly  taught  as  a 
doctrine  in  tlie  book  of  divine  revelation. 

Wc  next  proceed  to  a  consideration  of  the  appointed  way  througii 
Avhicli  this  state  of  holiness  is  to  be  attained. 

And,  1.  Tlie  only  fvimdation  is  Jesus  Cniiisr.  St.  Paul  says  : 
(Rom.  viii,  3,  4  :)  "  For  what  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it  was 
weak  through  the  flesh,  God  sending  liis  own  Son  in  the  likeness 
10* 


1841.]  Christimi  Perfection.  151 

of  sinful  flesh,  and  for  sin  condemned  sin  in  die  flesh ;  that  the 
righleuusncss  of  the  law  might  be  fulfilled  in  us,  who  walk  not  after 
the  flesh,  hut  after  the  Spii-it."  Again:  (Heb.  is,  13,  14:)  "For 
if  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats,  and  the  ashes  of  a  heifer  sprink- 
ling the  unclean,  sanctifieth  to  the  purifying  of  the  flesh  ;  how  much 
more  shall  the  blood  of  Christ,  who  tlurough  the  eternal  Spirit  of- 
fered himself  without  spot  to  God,  purge  yoxa  conscience  from 
dead  works  to  serve  the  living  God?"  Ajid  agam  :  (1  Cor.  i,  30:) 
"  Clu-ist  Jesus  of  God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom,  and  righlcnusness, 
and  sanctification,  and  redemption." 

As  this  is  a  point  upon  which  there  is  no  question,  we  shall  not 
quote  the  lang-uage  of  oiu"  authors,  though,  had  we  space,  ^vc  might 
introduce  strong  passages  from  them  which  would  be  interestijig 
and  instructive  lo  the  reader.  Oiu:  position  is,  that  Cluist  in  his 
ullices,  as  ov.v  prophet,  our  priest,  and  our  king,  is  the  grand  7neri- 
forious  imd  j>rocii)-iiig  cause  of  om-  sanctification. 

2.  Tiie  grand  efTiciency  through  which  this  great  work  is  acliievcd 
is  the  Holy  Spirit. 

No  outward  ordinances,  no  good  pui'poses  or  resolutions  can 
avail  in  the  least  toward  that  radical  renovation  implied  in  the 
sanctification  of  soul,  body,  and  spirit.  It  is  figuratively  called  a 
creation, — being  "  created  anew  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good  works." 
It  is  "putting  on  the  new  man, 'which  after  God  is  created  in 
righteousness  and  true  holiness."  And  what  but  diA-inc  power  can 
create  ?     The  poet  says — 

"  'Twas  great  to  speak  a  world  from  nai;ght, 
'Twas  greater  to  redeem." 
'J'his  is  emphatically  true  of  that  part  of  the  great  process  of  re- 
dem])tiun  of  which  we  are  now  speaking.  If  none  but  God  could 
bring  into  existence  this  goodly  world,  with  all  its  appendages, 
surely  no  other  power  can  effect  that  moral  renovation  of  the  soul 
which  is  equally,  if  indeed  not  more  eminently  beyond  all  limited 
skill  and  power. 

But  it  is  especially  indicated  as  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  by 
being  denominated  the  haptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  sanctification 
if  the  Spirit,  &c.,  &c.  The  view  of  our  autliors  is,  that  the  work 
is  iffccird  and  sustained  by  the  direct  agency  of  the  Spirit  of  God 
upon  the  soul. 

Says  Mr.  TrefTry :— 


153  Christian  Perfection.  [Januar)--, 

"Tlic  oflkeof  sanctification,  or  rciulcriii^'  tlic  soul  perfect  in  divine 
love,  is  not  unfreqiiently  iittribuleil  to  the  tliirJ  Person  in  the  ever- 
blessed  Trinity,  who  is  dcnoininalcJ  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  who  is  sent 
by  tlie  Father,  in  the  name  of  the  Son,  to  worl;  in  us  'to  will  and  to 
do  of  his  own  good  pleasure.'  lie  is  calK  d  the  Holy  Spirit,  not  merely 
because  he  is  essentially  holy  in  himself,  hut  as  he  is  the  source  of 
holiness  to  us,  producing  in  us  all  the  fruits  of  holiness,  cleansing  and 
beautifying  our  souls  that  ho  may  dwell  in  us,  and  make  us  the  temples 
of  his  holiness:  for  wc  are  washed,  sanctified,  and  justified  'in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  our  God.'  '  Not  by 
■works  of  righteousness,'  saith  the  apostle,  '  which  we  have  done,  but 
according  to  his  own  mercy  he  saved  us,  by  the  washing  of  regenera- 
tion, and  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost.' " 

But,  3.  The  conditions  upon  which  ihc  Holy  Spirit  Avill  effect 
tliis  blessed  work  may  bo  embraced  in  repentance  m\d  faith. 

Wc  must  not,  however,  Etijiposc  that  all  oilier  duties  are  waived. 
No  person  can  ever  perform  llicsc  conditions  while  living  in  the 
neglect  of  any  other  known  duty,  either  private  or  public,  whether 
having  relation  to  God,  society,  or  liimself.  He  must  especially 
be  diligent  in  all  the  means  of  grace.  Btit  the  proximate  cause  of 
this  grand  deliverance  is  vl  penitent  faitli  in  the  atoning  blood. 

Says  Mr.  Fletcher — 

"If  Christian  perfection  implies  a  forsaking  all  inward  as  well  as 
outward  sin  ;  and  if  true  rrpmtance  is  a  grace  '  whereby  we  forsake 
sin  ;'  it  follows,  that,  to  attain  Christian  perfection,  we  must  so  follow 
our  Lord's  evangelical  precept,  '  Repent,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is 
at  hand,'  as  to  leave  no  sin,  no  bosom  sin,  no  heart  sin,  no  indwelling 
sin,  unrepented  of,  and,  of  consequence,  unforsaken." 

But  this  state  of  godly  sorrow  fur  sin,  inherent,  indwelling  sin, 
niust  be  associated  with  faith.  And  we  will  next  endeavor  to 
show  the  characteristics  of  this  fiiili.  ]\lr.  Walmough  gives  the 
following  plain  and  clear  definition  of  the  sanctifying  faith  of  which 
we  are  speaking : — 

"  Now,  in  all  kinds  and  degrees  of  saving  faith,  there  are  found  to 
be  three  things,  none  of  which  can  be  spared  or  separated  from  the 
rest  without  rendering  our  faith  incflcctual  and  dead.  The  first  is,  a 
perception  of  the  premise  of  the  salvation  xce  need.  The  second  is,  a  con- 
viction of  its  vital  importance  and  truth.  And  the  third  is,  cmhracina- 
that  promise  icith  the  affections  or  heart.  Each  of  these  particulars  wo 
find  in  the  faith  of  the  patriarchs.  Heb.  xi,  13.  And  the  last  particular 
is  so  important  to  failli,  that  the  apostle  to  the  Romans  has  so  spoken 
of  faith  as  if  it  consisted  alone  in  this  veiy  thing.  '  With  the  heart,' 
says  he,  '  man  bclicveth  unto  rinhteousness.'  '  If  thou  shall  believe  in 
thine  heart  that  God  hath  raised  him  from  the  dead,'  &c.,  Rom.  x,  9, 10." 


1811.]  Christian  Perfection,  153 

From  llicsc  extracls  it  will  be  seen  that  wc  are  not  authorized 
to  expect  the  blessing  in  the  exercise  of  >nere  godly  sorrow,  nor 
by  a  cold,  -unfeeling  faith ;  but  by  "  hearty  repentance  and  true 
foil!"  united.  Among  the  helps  to  the  right  exercise  of  tliese 
great  dvities,  wc  would  notice,  as  of  principal  importance,  those  of 
fasting  and  prayer.  But  upon  these  we  cannot  enlarge.  Fur 
furlhcr  help  the  reader  is  referred  to  Mr.  Fletcher's  "  Address  to 
Imperfect  Christians." 

It  is  not  possible  that  all  the  queries  of  one  who  has  never  at- 
tained this  state  should  be  answered.  But  in  vastly  too  many 
instances  we  seem  to  be  waiting  to  have  our  doubts  solved,  when 
we  should  be  makiug  our  best  efforts  to  get  into  the  way.  If  an 
unrenewed  siimer  should  tell  us  he  would  make  no  serious  elTorls 
to  seek  pardoning  gi-ace  until  he  could  see  through  the  whole  pro- 
cess, we  should  tell  liim  he  had  stiunbled  upon  a  most  foolish  con- 
clusion. 

But  wc  are  waiting  to  understand  the  subject.  Alas  for  us  ! 
And  when  will  we  ever  understand  it  ?  Why,  wlicn  we  become 
in  good  eai'ncst  for  the  blessing.  We  need  heat  vastly  more  ihan 
we  do  light  upon  the  subject.  After  all  the  light  shed  upon  the 
way  by  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  oiu:  standard  va-ilcrs,  if  we  still 
need  to  be  taught  the  theory,  it  is  indeed  a  pity  for  us. 

Did  wcfccl  the  burden  of  cur  corntptions,  were  we  athirst  for 
God,  the  living  God,  wc  should  soon  find  out  the  Avay.  And 
nothing  but  a  deep  and  permanent  conviction  of  the  absolute  neces- 
sity of  holiness  of  heart  will  clear  away  our  doubts  and  make  the 
way  plain.  Hunger  and  thirst  never  sit  still,  nor  magnify  difficul- 
ties. Instead,  then,  of  itUy  speculating,  let  us  begin  to  "  hunger 
and  thirst  after  righteousness."     Says  Mr.  Fletcher — 

"  Speculation  and  reasoning  hinder  us  to  get  into  the  way,  and  lead 
us  out  of  it  ulicn  we  are  in  it.  The  only  business  of  those  who  como 
to  God,  as  a  Redeemer  or  Sanctifier,  must  be  to  feci  their  want  of  rc- 
tkmption  and  sanctifying  power  from  on  high,  and  to  come  for  it  by 
simple,  cordial,  working  faith." — Benson's  Life  of  Fletcher,  p.  2G5. 

Painfidly  to  fed  our  need,  then,  is  the  great  point  to  be  gained. 
Then  wc  shall  labor,  agonize  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate.  And 
though  our  efforts  may  for  a  time  seem  unavailmg,  if  put  forth 
aright  they  will,  ihey  must  finally  prevail.  As  says  the  author 
last  quoted — 


154  Chrislian  Perfection.  tJaaiuarj', 

"  Believers  go  on  unto  perfection,  as  tlio  disciples  went  to  the  other 
side  of  the  sea  of  Galilee  ;  they  toiled  some  lime  very  hard,  and  with 
lilllc  success  ;  but  after  they  had  rowed  about  twenty-five  or  thirty  fur- 
longs, they  saw  Jesus  walking  on  the  sea.  He  said  to  them,  It  is  I, 
be  not  afraid  ;  then  they  willingly  received  him  into  the  ship,  and  im- 
mediately the  ship  was  at  the  land  whither  they  went ;  just  so  we  toil, 
till  our  faith  discovers  Clirist  in  the  promise,  and  welcomes  him  into 
cur  hearts." 

T)wt  we  may  in  some  measure  contribute  to  the  state  of  mind 
in  relation  to  tliis  subject,  wliich  we  lliiiik  of  such  vital  ixiiportancc, 
we  will  next  consider  the  motives  wliicli  urge  this  great  subject 
upon  our  attention  and  our  feelings.  \Vc  find  these  well  expressed 
and  arranged  by  tlie  venerable  TrefTrj-,  of  which  wc  can  only  give 
a  syllabus. 

This  WTiter  urges  us  to  go  on  to  perfection  because — 1.  It  hai-- 
monizes  with  the  divine  will :  2.  Tlie  object  is  infinitely  desirable  : 
3.  This  is  the  only  certain  preventive  of  final  apostasy  :  4.  It  alone 
will  secure  permanent  and  satisfactory  enjoyment :  and  5,  It  is  the 
only  way  to  secure  a  qualification  for  eternal  glory.  (See  Sermon 
on  Heb.  vi,  1.) 

Hoping  that  by  these  considerations  the  serious  reader  will  be 
moved  to  make  a  final  and  decisive  effort  to  rest  his  soid  upon 
the  divine  atonement  for  a  full  salvation  from  sin,  and  knowing  that 
this  cflbrt  will  not  prove  fruitless,  we  will  next  and  finally  proceed 
to  a  few  directions  to  such  as  have  received  this  great  blessing. 

It  seems  to  be  a  fact,  and  it  is  one  much  to  be  lamented,  that 
very  many  of  those  who  conic  into  this  glorious  liberty  fail  to  retain 
their  confidence,  and  cilher  relapse  into  a  state  of  indiflcrence,  or 
are  left  in  a  condition  of  gloominess  and  discomfort.  The  causes 
of  this  slate  of  things  demand  serious  and  careful  examination.  If 
wc  have  not  misjudged,  these  arc  various,  and  may  not  be  the  same 
in  all  cases.  It  may  be,  in  many  cases,  neglect  of  duty,  want  of 
watchfulness,  or  spiritual  pride.  But  wc  are  persuaded,  in  a 
vastly  larger  niniibcr  of  instances  it  is  the  result  of  a  leant  of  rigid 
vieius  of  the  state  of  entire  sunctification.  The  individual  supposes 
that  it  consists  in  a  continued  succession  of  ecstasies,  or  in  constant 
transport ;  and,  failing  to  realize  his  anticipations,  lie  yields  to 
temptation,  and  gives  up  liis  confidence.  Or,  perhaps,  he  supposes 
he  is  now  above  temptation,  and  ere  he  is  aware  he  has  left  some 
unguarded  place,  and  the  enemy  has  stolen  into  liis  heart.     Or, 


1811.1  Christian  Perfcciio7i.  155 


possibly,  lie  has  lliought  to  fan  the  flame  by  boislerous  profei 
and  extravagant  expressions  of  his  comforts  and  prospects,  and  by 
these  means  lie  has  fumed  away  all  his  spirituality,  and  his  "good- 
ness has  become  as  the  morning  cloud  or  the  early  dew."  Now 
those  errors  may  arise  in  part  from  the  neglect  or  incompetency  of 
the  ministry  to  give  suitable  advice  and  instructions  upon  the  sub- 
ject ;  but  they  doubtless  principally  arise  from  a  want  of  continued 
self-examination,  a  dihgent  and  careful  reading  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  unceasing  prayer. 

But  whatever  be  the  cause  of  the  decline  of  so  many  who  expe- 
rience this  grace,  it  undoubtedly  becomes  all  individuals  of  this 
class  to  labor  as  for  life  to  avoid  tlie  pending  danger.  As  they 
would  be  useful,  as  they  would  honor  God,  as  they  would  be  hajipy 
here  and  hereafter,  they  should  keep  up  an  unceasing  vigilance 
against  every  evil  influence,  and  unremitting  diligence  in  the  dis- 
charge of  all  Christian  duties. 

^^'e  would  advise  and  admonish  all  such  in  the  first  place  to  avoid 
all  extravagant  conceptions  in  connection  v.ith  this  subject ; — never 
to  associate  in  their  minds  with  high  degi-ees  of  gi-ace  the  ideas  of 
miraculous  powers,  visions,  or  extraordinary  ecstasies.  We  would 
not  wish  to  throw  doubt  over  the  facts  which  are  recorded  by  Mrs. 
H.  A.  Rogers,  as  to  extraordinary  answers  to  prayer,  and  yet  it 
will  not  be  safe  to  conclude  that  these  cases  are  necessarily  or  usu- 
ally connected  with  a  state  of  Christian  perfection. 

Such  persons  should  be  cautioned  against  Solijldianism,  that  is, 
ri'>ling  in  faitli  alone,  without  evangelical  works.  We,  indeed, 
"stand"  in  this  grace  "by  faith,"  "we  walk  by  faith,"  we  "live 
by  fiitli ;"  but  then  it  is  aj^c/iitcnt,  hinng,  praying,  obedient  faith. 
?Vot  one  that  is  "dead,  being  alone." 

Again:  they  should  be  advised  to  make  this  great  work  matter 
of  conversation  on  all  suitable  occasions.  Our  reasons  for  urging 
tlic  prudent  profession  of  this  work  of  grace  are  simply  these : 
1.  Cod  no  more  lights  this  candle  to  have  it  put  under  a  bushel, 
t!i:ui  that  of  justification.  It  seems,  indeed,  reasonable,  that  he 
should  be  honored  in  all  his  gifts,  and  especially  in  the  highest 
and  greatest  which  we  may  hope  to  receive  in  the  present  state. 
".  I  iiiviTsal  experience  in  this  blessing  proves  that  it  cannot  be 
("nji.yed  in  secret.  If  we  would  retain  it,  we  must  profess  it. 
.Sui  h  was  the  experience  of  Mr.  Fletcher  and  otlicrs  of  those  who 


156  .  Critical  Notices.  [Januarj*, 

Jived  for  years  in  llic  splendors  of  this  glorious  light,  and  such,  as 
far  as  we  have  made  any  observations  in  our  nilcrcourse  witii  this 
class  of  Christians,  is  the  case  still.  3.  Our  heavenly  Father 
designs  by  this  means  to  malvC  us  instnuncnts  in  his  hands  of 
spreading  this  heavenly  influence.  A  simple  and  circumstantial 
account  of  the  wonderful  dealings  of  God  with  them,  upon  the 
part  of  those  who  liave  attained  to,  and  who  lienor  this  holy 
stale,  will  encourage  others  to  seek  it,  and  never  fail,  vdxh  tlie 
blessing  of  God,  to  be  the  means  of  spreading  the  holy  fire. 

Finally,  we  would  say  to  this  class  of  Christians,  Be  prudent  in 
your  professions,  and  in  all  your  expressions  on  the  subject  of  this 
sublime  and  blessed  slate.  "  Cast  not  your  jiearls  before  swine." 
Consider  that  this  is  not  a  doctrine  to  be  dealt  out  indiscriminately 
to  all  classes  of  persons,  not  cxceplhig  skeptics  and  scoficrs.  By 
liigh  professions  and  strong  expressions  before  an  ungodly  world, 
j'OU  may  bring  this  blessed  d(jclrinc  into  contempt,  and  be  an  oc- 
casion of  stumbling  to  many.  }.Iany  -wise  and  salutary  adiices 
ai-e  given  by  ouj  authors  \\hich  we  liavc  not  space  to  insert.  For 
these  the  reader  may  consult  ^^''eslcy's  advice,  see  Plain  Accomit 
of  Clmstian  Perfection,  pp.  131-152,  Fletcher's  Address  to  Perfect 
Christians,  and  Trcflr)''s  Treatise,  pp.  230-250. 

Should  we  resume  this  subject,  which  witli  the  leave  of  Provi- 
dence we  now  intend,  we  shall  review  several  American  productions 
which  have  recently  made  their  appearance,  and  excited  no  little 
interest  among  both  the  friends  and  foes  of  the  doctrine  of  Christian 
perfection.  Ed. 


Aw.  VII.-CRITICAL   NOTICES. 

] .  A  Manual  of  Clianislnj,  on  the  basis  of  Dr.  TvrneT's  FJcments  of  Che- 
mistry ;  containin<^,  in  a  condniscd  furm,  all  the  most  important  facts 
and  principles  of  the  Science.  Dcsir^ncd  for  a  text-hook  in  CoUcrrcs 
and  other  Scnmiaries  of  Learning.  By  Joiis  Joh.nstox,  A.  Al.,  Pro- 
fessor of  Natural  Science  in  tl)e  Wcalcyau  University.  i\!iddIetown  : 
Barnes  &  Saxe.     18  10.     1  vol.  12mo'.  pp.  453. 

Dr.  Turner's  Elements  of  Chemistry  has  been  extensively  used  in 
the  United  Stales,  as  a  text-book  for  students  in  our  seminaries  of  learn- 
ing. The  arrangement  of  the  work  is  generally  excellent,  and  the 
details  copious.     The  style  is  a  model  in  that  kind  of  writing,  and  the 


]S41.]  Critical  Notices.  .157 

impoi'tant  facts  of  the  science,  known  at  the  time  of  its  publication,  are 
f.iiihfuUy  presented.  It  must  be  admilied,  however,  tliat  the  book  is 
not  so  well  adapted  to  the  wants  of  beginners,  as  of  more  advanced 
Ktudenls.  The  most  sagacious  explorers  of  nature  are  not  always  the 
most  successfijl  writers  of  elementary  text -books.  To  collect  and  ar- 
range facts,  and  to  condense  and  compile  from  various  authors,  and 
from  numerous  articles  in  scientific  journals,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
exliibii  the  science  in  its  fair  proportions,  and  in  such  order  that  the 
mass  of  learners  may  follow  and  comprehend  it,  though  requiring  less 
genius,  perhaps,  than  original  investigations,  do  unquestionably  demand 
equal  industry  and  more  patience.  The  discussions  of  rival,  and  some- 
limes  of  obsolete,  theories,  which  occupy  many  pages  of  Dr.  Turner's 
work,  though  useful  to  the  lecturer  and  the  adept,  have  a  tendency  to 
confuse  and  embarrass  the  tyro,  and  to  induce  in  him  the  very  errone- 
0U-;  belief,  that  the  principles  of  the  science  are  uncertain.  It  is  believed 
that  a  text-book  of  chemistry  should  set  forth  the  established  principles 
of  the  science,  and  illustrate  them  by  a  sufficient  number  of  facts  to  fix 
them  strongly  in  the  mind  of  the  learner,  without  bewildering  his  rea- 
.'on  with  conflicting  opinions,  of  whose  truth  or  fallacy  he  is  as  yet 
incompetent  to  judge,  and  without  overloading  his  memory  with  a  mass 
of  details  equally  unnecessary  and  discouraging. 

Chemistry  is  both  a  science  and  an  art.  The  science  consists  in 
j)rinciplcs ;  the  art  in  manipulations.  'J"he  student  may  gain  a  know- 
ledge of  the  former  from  text-books,  and  from  lectures,  accompanied  by 
experiments,  with  much  less  labor  than  he  can  acquire  the  practical 
dexteriiy  requisite  for  success  in  the  latter;  and  the  time  devoted  to 
liie  £\ibject  in  American  colleges  is  seldom  more  than  sufficient  for  the 
aluiiiimcnt  of  a  good  theoretical  knowledge  of  the  powers  and  proper- 
ticii  of  bodies,  and  of  the  laws  and  results  of  chemical  action.  Hence 
he  desires  a  book  from  which  he  may  learn  to  know  the  science,  not  to 
jintciicc  the  art. 

I'riifcssor  Johnston's  Manual  is  designed  as  a  text-book,  suited  to  the 
wants  of  the  students  in  American  colleges.  The  views  set  forth  in 
the  preface  to  his  book,  as  will  be  obvious  from  the  following  extract, 
fully  accord  with  our  own. 

"  The  object  of  the  great  majority  of  students,  even  of  those  who 
jiursue  a  collegiate  course,  is,  not  to  make  themselves  familiar  with 
niiniite  details  of  facts  or  processes  of  manipulation,  but  to  understand  the 
i-roai  principles  of  the  science,  and  the  leading  facts  which  serve  for 
J'.N  fouiiJation.     To  facilitate  in  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose,  is  | 

the   object  of  this    work.     In   preparing  it,  the   excellent  '  Elements  j 

of  Chemiitty'  of  the  late  Dr.  Turner  has  been  adopted  as  the  basis,  j 


158.  Critical  Notices.  [January, 

and  all  of  thai  work  incorporatrd  in  it  wliich  was  suited  to  our  purpose. 
His  arrangement  has  been  uniformly  followed,  with  a  few  unimportant 
ei'ceptions,  which  it  is  not  necessary  hero  to  particularize.  This  ar- 
rangement, on  the  whole,  is  consiilcrcd  the  best  that  has  ever  been 
proposed.  The  part  of  Dr.  Turner's  work  omitted,  is  taken  up  chiefly 
with  details  of  facts,  and  discussions  of  opinions  and  theories,  which  is 
indeed  important  in  a  work  designed  for  the  general  student,  but  which 
would  be  out  of  place  in  a  book  prepared  expressly  to  be  used  as  a 
te.\t-book." 


Following  the  general  arrangement  of  Dr.  Turner,  and,  so  far  as 
was  consistent  with  his  plan,  the  lanirnago,  also.  Professor  Johnston 
has  given  to  the  public  a  work  containing,  in  a  much  smaller  compass, 
all  the  most  valuable  matter  found  in  that  autlior.  He  has  done  more. 
Keeping  pace  wuh  the  progress  of  the  science,  he  has  collected  and 
incorporated  in  his  Manual  many  facts  and  illustrations  from  other 
sources.  Several  important  discoveries  and  inventions  of  recent  date, 
wdiich  have  excited  unusual  attention  and  curiosity,  have  also  found  a 
place  upon  his  pages.  Among  these  we  may  mention  the  photographic 
process  of  M.  Dagucrre,  the  electro-magnetic  engine  of  Mr.  Daven- 
port, and  the  solidification  of  carbonic  acid,  first  effected  five  years  ago, 
by  M.  Thillorier,  of  Paris,  and  more  recently  in  this  country,  by  Dr.  J. 
K.  iMitchell,  of  Philadelphia,  and  Dr.  Webster,  of  Boston.  The  appa- 
ratus constructed  and  succcssfidlyuscd  by  Professor  Johnston  for  obtain- 
ingthe  frozen  acid,  though  similar  in  principle  to  that  employedby  Doctors 
Mitchell  and  Webster,  is  much  less  complicated  and  expensive.  An 
engraving  and  description  of  this  instrument  are  given  in  the  Manual. 

In  treating  of  the  compounds  which  the  non-metallic  elements  form 
by  combining  with  each  other,  the  compiler  has  judiciously  adopted  the 
arrangement  of  Dr.  Beck.  Dr.  Turner,  as  is  well  known,  devoted  seven 
sections  of  his  work  to  what  ho  calls  "the  compotmds  of  the  non-me- 
tallic acidifiablc  combustibles  with  each  other  ;"  and  the  student,  having 
previously  learned  that  nitrogen  is  not  a  combustible,  (in  the  ordinary 
acceptation  of  the  word  comhusliLlc,)  is  surprised  to  find  under  this  head 
a  description  of  several  of  the  compounds  of  nitrogen  with  other  ele- 
ments. The  fact  that  hydrogen  is  a  combustible,  docs  not  seem  to  be 
a  sufllcient  reason  why  ammonia,  which  is  a  compound  of  nitrogen  and 
hydrogen,  should  not  bo  described  under  the  head  of  nitrogen,  as  well 
as  nitrous  oxide,  which  is  a  compound  of  nitrogen  and  oxygen.  In  the 
lilanuil  liefore  us,  the  history  of  each  non-metallic  element  is  followed 
by  the  history  of  the  compounds  whicli  it  forms  with  those  elements, 
whether  combustibles  or  not,  which  have  been  previously  described. 
The  same  order  is  observed  with  regard  to  tlie  metals,  so  far  as  they 


ISII.]  Critical  Notices.  .159 

form  combinations  with  non-metallic  bodies.  Like  Dr.  Turner,  Pro- 
fessor Johnston  has  placed  the  compounds  which  metals  form  with 
each  other  in  a  separate  section,  instead  of  noticing  under  each  metal 
the  alloys  which  it  forms  with  the  preceding. 

A  separate  chapter  is  very  properly  given  to  the  salts,  as  we  thus 
have  the  advantage  of  a  classification  of  them  into  orders,  genera,  and 
species.  This  class  of  bodies  is  so  numerous,  that,  without  such  a 
system,  the  study  of  their  specific  characters  would  be  excessively 
tedious.  Dr.  Turner's  excellent  division  of  salts  into  oxy,  hydro,  sul- 
phur, and  haloid,  is  adopted. 

•  The  part  occupied  by  analytical  chemistry  contains  as  much  as  will 
be  found  useful  on  that  subject  in  a  text-book  for  college  classes.  All 
th:it  is  necessary  in  a  work  of  this  kind  is,  to  give  the  student  some 
general  idea  of  the  methods  of  conducting  these  diflicidt  and  delicate 
operations,  without  going  into  any  extended  detail  of  complicated  pro- 
cesses. Every  person  who  attempts  to  perform  analyses  will,  as  a 
ni-illcr  of  course,  provide  himself  with  those  v.'orks  in  which  the  subject 
is  treated  of  at  large.  i 

It  is  a  matter  of  commendation  in  this  work  that  practical  suggestions  I 

arc  often  made  in  connection  with  the  principles  of  the  science,  to  j 

show  their  application  in  processes  of  utility,  and  in  explanation  of  j 

natural  phenomena.     Such  remarks  seldom  fail  to  excite  interest  in  a  | 

class  ;  and  a  principle  is  more  easily  remembered  when  it  is  associated  | 

iu  the  mind  with  some  familiar  fact  which  it  explains.     On  the  whole,  | 

\vc  believe  that  Professor  Johnston's  Manual  will  be  found  to  answer  I 

the  purpose  for  which  it  is  designed,  better  than  most  of  the  compila-  j 

lions  on  the  same  subject  now  before  the  Atnerican  public.     We  will  j 

express,  however,  what  every  reader  will  feel,  a  hope   that  the   next  | 

edition  will  exhibit  more  care  than  the  present  in  the  correction  of  the 
pioof  sheets.     Tlie  typographical  errors  are,  unfortunately,  numerous. 


2.  FSiKchis. — A71  Essay  on  the  Nature,  Causes,  Effects,  and  Cure  of 
Intrmprrance.  By  Ralph  B.^.h.nes  Grixdi'.od.  First  American, 
from  Lhe  third  English  edition,  by  Charles  C.  Lee,  A.  M.,  M.  D. 
New-York:  J.  &  H.  G.  Langley.' 18-10.   12mo.,  pp.  512. 

^VE  take  great  pleasure  in  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  above 
«  ork  from  the  publishers.  And  our  gratification  principally  arises  from 
a  Very  strong  conviction  that  lhe  work  will  exert  a  most  beneficial  in- 
iiui  nee  upon  community.  The  number  and  importance  of  its  laci.s, 
loi^iihcr  with  the  ability  and  fidelity  of  its  execution,  entitle  it  to  the 


IGO  Critical  Notices.  [Januarj^ 

serious  and  respectful  consideration  of  all  intelligent  and  virtuous  men. 
The  history  of  intenipcranco  is  a  liistory  of  Avrongs — a  delineation  of 
crime,  degradation,  and  wretchedness.  And  the  various  tributaries  to 
this  stygean  stream,  arc  becoming  matters  of  patient  and  philosophical 
investigation.  Philanthropists  wisely  judge  that  if  we  would  dr)'  up 
this  tide  of  death  we  must  cut  off  its  resources.  With  this  view  our 
author  institutes  a  philosophical  inquiry  into  the  history  of  alcoholic 
drinks,  and  shows  that  their  use  holds  a  direct  connection  with  the  de- 
grading vice  of  drunkenness,  and  of  course  is  always  fraught  with  the 
greatest  danger.  lie  shows  that  alcohol  is  not  "  a  good  creature  of 
God :"  but  is  an  invention,  and  one  loo,  which,  though  it  has  its  use, 
upon  the  whole,  religion  and  humanity  have  cause  to  deplore. 

To  us  quite  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  work  are  the  chapters  upon 
the  "  temperance  of  the  Hebrews,"  and  of  "  the  primitive  Christians." 
Here  our  author  discusses  the  various  original  words  employed  in  the 
Scriptures  for  wine.  And  if  he  does  not  prove  that  wines  strongly 
alcoholic  were  in  all  cases  absolutely  proscribed,  he  does  most  conclu- 
sively prove  th.at  there  is  no  sanction  of  their  use  in  any  quantities, 
in  the  Holy  Scriptures.  But  we  nwst  leave  this  work  for  the  present, 
(though  had  wo  space,  we  should  be  happy  to  give  it  an  extended  re- 
view,) after  expressing  our  sincere  gratitude  to  the  editor  and  publishers 
for  the  service  they  have  rendered  the  cause  of  temperance  in  its  re- 
publication, and  most  earnestly  comnicnding  it  to  the  attention  of  our 
readers.  The  mechanical  execution  of  the  work,  for  beauty  and  cor- 
rectness, deserves  high  praise. 


3.   The   Doctrine  and  DiscipHnr   of  the    Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
New-York:  Published  by  George  Lane.    1840.  Duodecimo,  pp.  216. 

This  large  edition  of  tho  Discijilino  was  wisely  authorized  by  the 
late  General  Conference,  for  the  accommodation  of  churches  and  fami- 
lies. And  upon  examining  it,  and  seeing  how  much  more  easily  it  is 
read,  even  by  tliose  having  good  eyes,  and  how  much  more  respectable 
it  appears,  we  are  really  astonished  that  the  project  of  putting  our  Dis- 
cipline into  this  form  had  not  entered  some  wise  head  long  before. 
The  Tilcthodist  Discipline  is  not  merely  a  book  of  reference,  or  to  be 
read  by  those  who  have  sharp  eyes.  It  shoidd  be  read  and  studied  by 
every  Methodist,  young  and  old  ;  and  we  are  quite  sure  those  of  our 
people  who  are  brconiiriL'  advanced  in  years,  will  greet  this  beautiful 
edition  of  it  with  )io  little  plea;,ure.     Let  every  Methodist  family  pro- 


18.11.]  Ciitical  Notices.  161 

cure  a  copy  for  the  hook  case  or  the  centre  tabic,  as  it  vill  be  an  orna- 
ment to  citlior,  and  will  be  much  more  likely  to  be  reaJ,  and  will  bo 
road  with  much  greater  pleasure  and  profit,  than  the  diminutive  tj'pe 
of  former  editions.  It  should  also  be  noticed,  that  in  this  edition 
several  typograjjhical  errors  in  the  work  liave  been  corrected,  and 
some  deficiencies  in  the  alphabetical  index  supplied. 

As  this  fine  large  book  will  not  be  quite  so  easily  buried  under  the 
rubbish,  and  the  large  and  elegant  type  will  be  read  without  difficulty, 
wo  can  but  hope  the  excellent  instnictions  and  rules  it  contains  rnay 
not  now  be  quite  forgotten,  but  may  have  the  attention  they  deserve 
from  both  ministers  and  people. 


4.  Upham's  Philosophical  Works. — Nev}  edition. 

1.  Mnilal  PJiilvsophi/,  embracing  the  three  Bepartments  of  the  Intellect, 
HaisiinlUics,  and  'Will:  by  tnoMAS  C.  Ui>ham,  Professor  of  Mental 
and  Moral  Pliilosoijhy  in  Bowdoin  College.     In  three  volumes. 

2.  Abridi;ment  of  the  v:ork  on  the  Intellect  and  Sensibilities.  Two 
volumes  in  one.     For  Academies  and  Schools. 

3.  Outlines  of  disordered  Mental  Action.  Harpers'  Family  Library, 
No.  100.     New-York,  Harper  &  Brothers,  1840. 

A  NEW  and  beautiful  edition  of  the  philosophical  works  of  Professor 
Upham  is  just  from  the  press  of  Harper  Sc  Brothers.  The  efforts  of 
this  author  to  analyze,  classify,  and  illustrate  the  phenomena  of  mind 
arc  truly  deserving.  The  subject  is  one  which  has  occupied  the 
reflections  and  the  pens  of  the  most  towering  geniuses,  and  yet  all  its 
abstrusities  have  never  been  fathomed,  nor  its  difficulties  overcome. 
When  such  men  as  Locke,  Reid,  Stewart,  and  Brown  have  failed  to 
agree  u])on  many  of  the  principles  which  govern  the  operations  of  the 
liumau  mind,  wo  are  ready  to  inquire,  "  Who  shall  decide  1"  But 
though  metaphysics  has  scarcely  been  reduced  to  the  degree  of  certainty 
in  many  of  its  great  leading  principles  to  entitle  it  to  the  denomination 
of  a  science,  yet  this  by  no  means  proves  that  the  labors  of  those  wlio 
at  different  times  and  in  different  countries  have  devoted  themselves  to 
the  consideration  of  the  origin  and  succession  of  human  thoughts,  and 
the  principles  which  govern  human  volitions,  have  been  altogether  in 
vain.  Much  has  been  done,  very  much,  to  illustrate  these  subjects, 
and  relieve  them  of  their  difficulties.  And  to  those  who  have  devoted 
tlK-nisclvcs  to  these  investigations  the  world  is  laid  under  great  obliga- 
tions, though  there  should  still  remain  mysteries  which  have  not  been 
cxpLiined.    In  investigating  and  exhibiting  the  leading  theories  which 


162  Ciiticul  Notices.  [January, 

have  been  broaclicd  upon  the  various  parts  of  the  general  subject  of 
which  he  treats,  Professor  Upham  is  patient  and  discriminating,  and 
may  be  relied  upon  as  giving  us  the  best  views  -which  have  been  pre- 
sented. He  has  removed  man)'  diflJcuhics,  settled  many  doubts,  and 
explained  and  simplilied  many  intricacies.  And  upon  the  whole  we 
can  most  cheerfully  recommend  his  works  to  the  attention  of  all  such 
as  wish  assistance  in  their  endeavors  lo  form  a  just  acquaintance  with 
the  powers  and  susceptibilities,  or  various  states  of  the  human  mind. 

Wc  give  the  following  brief  specimen  from  the  work  on  the  Will. 
It  is  the  conclusion  of  a  note  to  a  section  on  "  Slavery  of  Will." 

"  Fourth. — If  man's  will  be  enslaved,  so  that  he  cannot  of  himself 
be  and  do  what  is  required  of  him,  what  shall  bc  saiil,  on  philosophical 
principles,  of  his  accountability  ?  The  theological  doctrine  in  general 
terms  is,  that,  whatever  may  be  true  of  llie  slavery  of  the  will  in  the 
things  of  religion,  man's  accountability  remains;  and  that  he  is  not 
only  required  to  do  what  is  riuht  :iiid  to  avoid  what  is  wrong,  but  that 
he  is  justly  condemned,  in  particular,  for  not  serving  and  loving  God 
just  as  the  Scriptures  demand  of  him.  This  view  is  undoubtedly  a 
correct  one ;  and  yet  tlie  human  mind,  in  its  search  after  justice  as 
well  as  truth  in  tliis  matter,  will  be  desirous  to  find  something  explana- 
tory of  this  seemingly  inccinsisu  ut  slate  of  things,  viz.,  slavery  on  the 
one  hand,  and  moral  aecountabiluy  on  the  other.  Diflerent  explana- 
tions are  given  by  dili'erent  theological  writers.  It  will  be  said  by 
some,  for  instance,  that  man,  in  virtue  of  his  connection  with  Adam  as 
the  natural  and  federal  head  of  tlie  race,  and  also  by  his  own  personal 
acts,  has  brought  himself  into  his  present  ruined  situation.  He  has 
destroyed  himself;  and,  theri'fore,  inlands  accountable  both  for  his  pre- 
sent ruined  state,  and  also  for  every  thing  which  naturally  flows  out  of 
that  ruin. 

"  But  it  is  believed  that  theologians  commonly  meet  the  difficulty  here, 
in  addition,  perhaps,  to  the  view  just  referred  to,  by  connecting  with 
the  doctrine  of  the  religious  slavery  of  the  will  the  great  conservative 
doctrine  of  the  grace  of  God,  purchased  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  and 
manifested  in  the  shape  of  a  general  and  adequate  oflbr  of  divine  as- 
sistance to  all  who  will  sincerely  do  all  they  can  for  their  religious 
restoration,  whether  it  be  more  or  less.  •  •  *  •  Prostrate  and 
inthralled  by  sin  as  we  are,  we  may  still,  by  the  grace  of  God,  speak 
of  our  freedom  and  accountability  in  religious  things  as  well  as  in 
others,  and  that,  too,  without  any  prejudice  cither  to  fact  or  to  lan- 
g\iage  ;  but  not  in  such  a  way  as  to  appropriate  to  ourselves  any  merit. 
We  find  in  Christ  th.-it  purchased  freedom  which  we  had  lost  in  Adam. 
And  hence  those  frecjuent  Scriptural  appeals  which  are  made  to  us  just 
as  if  wc  had  not  lost  our  strength,  ^\'e  cannot  of  ourselves  break  our 
chains  ;  but  theologians  very  prnperly  assure  us,  that  there  is  a  sense 
in  vi'hich  we  may  take  hold  of  the  arm  of  Christ,  which  has  power  to 
break  them  for  us.  Hence,  altliuugh  in  our  natural  and  inthralled  state 
(if  we  choose  to  call  it  such)  we  c;in  undoubtedly  make  important  ef- 
forts of  a  certain  kind,  and  which  have  a  connection  more  or  less  inti- 


jS'll.j  Critical  Notices.  1C3 

nwte  with  our  final  destiny,  we  are  nevertheless  properly  said  to  be 
saved  l>y  llie  divine  power,  and  to  have  no  merits  of  our  own.  The 
necessity  ol"  human  ellbrt,  in  whatever  shape  and  to  whatever  extent  it 
is  put  liirlh,  and  the  accessory  and  consuimnating  influence  of  divine 
grace,  seem  both  to  be  referred  to  in  that  interesting  and  instructive 
passajje  :  'Workout  your  own  salvation  vrith  fear  and  trembling;  for 
it  is  Cod  which  worketh  in  you,  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good 
pleasure.' " 

The  stjle  of  these  works  is  in  general  correct,  perspicuous,  and 
natural,  and  the  great  modesty  and  excellent  spirit  of  the  author  cannot 
be  too  much  admired.  The  present  edition  appears  with  the  author's 
latest  corrections  and  improvements,  and  for  style  of  mechanical  exe- 
cution is  altogether  worthy  of  the  well-earned  reputation  of  the  enter- 
prising house  from  which  it  emanates.  An  able  review  of  these  works 
is  in  hand,  and  will  appear  in  our  next  number. 


5.  Speeches  delivered  on  Various  Occasions.  By  George  G.  Cookmax, 
of  the  Baltimore  Annual  Conference,  and  Chaplain  to  the  Senate  of 
lire  United  States.     New- York  :  George  Lane.    18mo.    pp.139. 

This  little  work  is  most  earnestly  commended  to  the  attention  of  the 
Christian  public  generally,  as  being  calculated  not  only  to  impart  use- 
ful instruction,  but  to  difluse  the  spirit  of  benevolence  ;  and  especially 
to  awaken  public  interest  in  behalf  of  our  great  benevolent  institutions. 
In  these  speeches  will  be  found  a  sprightliness  and  vigor,  with  a  novelty 
of  expression,  and  an  exuberance  of  figurativ'e  illustrations,  almost  pe- 
culiar to  the  author,  and  which  impart  the  highest  interest  to  liis  plat- 
form productions. 

We  have  read  these  speeches  with  great  pleasure,  and,  we  hope, 
some  jTTofit,  and  have  found  nothing  in  relation  to  which  we  judge  it 
necessary  to  guard  the  reader,  unless  we  make  an  exception  of  several 
statements  made  in  the  last  address.  The  author  says,  "  Methodism, 
so  called,  is  not  a  sect,"  p.  128.  "  Methodism  is  not  a  form,"  p.  129. 
"  Methodism  is  not  an  opinion,"  p.  131.  Though  these  statements  are 
justified  by  the  declarations  of  Mr.  Wesley,  and  are  undoubtedly  true 
of  "  Methodism"  before  it  assumed  a  distinct  church  organization,  yet 
at  this  time  they  can  only  hold  good  in  a  icrt/  qualifed  sense,  in  relation 
cither  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  the  United  States,  or  the 
Weslcyan  coimeetion  in  England.  For  though  Methodism  is  not  sec- 
tarian, or  formal,  or  theoretical,  in  any  bad  sense  of  these  terms,  it  still 
must  be  admitted  that  the  Methodists  are  as  really  and  truly  a  Christian 


164  Critical  A^olices.  [January, 

sect,  and  as  certainly  liavc  formnlas,  and  as  clearly  have  a  set  of  doc- 
trinal opinions,  as  any  other  Christian  commimion  in  the  ■world.  Our 
object  in  this  notice  is,  so  to  qualify  \\\o.  statements  alluded  to,  that  they 
may  not  lead  the  reader  into  error,  and  by  no  means  to  detract  from 
the  value  of  the  able  and  interesting  speech  in  which  they  are  found. 
We  hope  these  excellent  speeches  may,  in  many  cases,  take  the  place 
of  the  light  reading,  which  often  has  far  less  literary  merit  than  they 
may  justly  claim,  and  never  any  of  the  sanctifying  fire  which  gives 
them  character. 

The  only  regret  the  reader  of  this  work  will  be  likely  to  experience 
will  be,  that  it  is  not  longer. 


6.  Sehct  Discourses  on  the  Fitnclinns  of  the  Nervous  System,  in  opposi- 
tion to  Phrenology,  Materialism,  and  Atheism,  &c.  13y  J.  Augusti.v 
Smith,  M.  D.,  President  of  the  Collc<,fe  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons 
in  New-York.  New- York:  D.  Apjilcton  '&  Co.  1S40.  ISrao. 
pp.  210. 

This  volume  contains,  1st,  a  lecture  on  the  diversities  of  human 
character  from  physiological  peculiarities,  and  2d,  three  discourses  on 
the  functions  of  the  nerves.  In  tlie  lecture,  originality  and  independ- 
ent thinking  will  bo  apparent  to  the  reader,  and  command  his  respect, 
whatever  he  may  be  disposed  lo  award  to  the  theories  of  the  author. 
And  the  discourses  upon  the  nervous  functions,  including  motion  and 
sensation,  will  be  found  to  present  much  tliat  is  new,  ingenious,  and 
instructive  upon  this  terra  incognita  of  metaphysical  research.  The 
criticism  upon  phrenolog)',  which  is  anatomical,  physiological,  and  me- 
taphysical, although  somewhat  censorious  as  the  sect  will  regard  it,  is 
more  easily  to  be  condemned  than  answered.  And  materialism  and 
atheism,  which  are  kindred  sciences,  will  find  their  fabric  of  argument, 
so  called,  based  on  the  phenomena  of  the  sense  of  touch,  to  be  swept 
away  beyond  recover)'. 

Professor  Smith  is  undoubtedly  a  scholar  and  metaphysician,  who 
understands  the  .subjects  on  which  he  treats,  and  though  Ids  style  is 
unique,  and  indeed  s>ii  generis,  yet  he  deals  his  blows  without  fear  or 
favor,  relying  upon  his  inflexible  integrity  of  purpose,  and  the  resources 
of  his  learning  and  logical  acumen,  for  jirotection  from  the  army  of  cri- 
tics. The  work  is  well  worth  perusal,  especially  as  an  antidote  to 
popular  delusion  in  these  degenerate  days,  when  philosophy  is  running 
mad. 


^, 


k 


.//    />.-.^.:vx  /,„/,;.;.,.^y 


/l,^ 


THE 

METHODIST  QUARTERLY  REVIEW. 
APRIL,  1S41. 


EDITED    BY   GEORGE   PECK,   D.  D. 


Art.  1. — 1.  Report  on  EJ.ucafion  in  Europe  to  the  Trustees  of 
the  Girard  CoUcse  for  Orphans.  By  Ai.exajcder  Dallas 
Baciie,  LL.D.,  President  of  the  College.  Pliiladclplua  :  1839. 
8vo.  pp.  666. 

2.  Biography  of  Stephen  Girard,  v:Vh  his  WUl  ojjixcd.  By 
■Stki'uen  yi.MPSox.     Philadelphia:   1832.  12mo.  pp.316. 

3.  Prncccdings  on  the  laying  of  the  Corner  Stone  of  the  Girard 
College  for  Orphans,  with  the  Address  pronounced  on  tJiat  Occa- 
sion.^ By 'Nicuolm^  BiDDLE.    Philadelphia  :  1S33.  Svo.  pp.  2S. 

4.  Communication  from  the  Board  of  Trustees  cf  the  Girard  Col- 
lege for  Orphans,  to  the  Select  and  Common  Councih  of  Phila- 
delphia.    Presented  July  16,  1S40. 

5.  Report  of.  the  Special  Committee,  appointed,  by  the  Common 
Council,  on  a  Communication  front  the  Board  of  Trustees  of 
the  Girard  College,  Thomas  S.  Smith,  Chairman.  Read  in 
Council,  Aug.  27',  lS-10.     Philadelphia:   1340.  pp.  53. 

Our  principal  oliject  in  the  present  article  will  be  to  present  our 
readers  with  a  hricf  view  of  the  contents  of  the  valuable  work  which 
wc'iavc  placed  ftrst  at  the  head — Dr.  Baclie's  Report  on  Education 
in  Europe.  Preliminary  to  this,  however,  wc  shall  notice,  as  con- 
cisely as  possil)le,  the  life  of  the  remarkable  man  whose  unpa- 
ralleled munificence  has  laid  the  foundation  of  the  greatest  charitable 
institution  in  our  country ;  and  we  shall  dwell  for  a  moment  on 
those  features  of  the  proposed  instit\ition  which  are  already  deve- 
loped, and  which  seem  to  us  to  reqitirc  comment,  on  account  either 
of  their  good  or  evil  tendency. 

^JTRrnEN  Girard,  merchant  and  mariner,  as  he  styles  iiimsclf 
in  his  will,  was  bom  at  Bordeaux,  in  France,  on  the  2  Ith  day  of 
May,  1750.     Little  is  knowi  of  his  parents  or  early  education,  cx- 

VoL.  I.— 11 


166  Giranl  College.  [April, 

ccpt  llmt  the  former  were  in  humble  circumstances,  and  ihc  latter 
was  limited  to  the  simplest  nuliuicnts.  ^^'l^cn  about  ten  years  of 
age,  he  left  France,  in  a  vessel  bound  for  the  West  Indies,  as  cabin 
boy,  in  -which  capacity  he  shortly  after  arrived  at  the  city  of  New- 
York,  and  was  engaged  for  several  years  afterward  in  trading  be- 
tween that  port  and  New-Orleans,  as  an  apprentice  and  seaman. 
In  1769  he  removed  from  New-York  to  Philadelphia,  and  com- 
menced business  on  a  small  scale  in  Water-street,  and  in  the  fol- 
lowing year  was  married  to  the  daughter  of  a  shipbuilder,  living  in 
the  same  street.  The  marriage  appciu's  to  have  been  unhappy  ;  he 
had  but  one  child,  who  died  in  infancy,  and  his  wife  subsequently 
became  insane,  and  died  in  the  Pennsylvania  Hospital.  Up  to  the 
year  177G  he  was  engaged  in  trade  to  St.  Domingo,  which  was 
suspended  by  the  war,  and  resumed  again  m  1780.  Two  years 
afterward  he  took  a  lease,  for  ten  years,  of  a  number  of  buildings  in 
Water-street,  at  a  low  rale,  v.-ilh  the  privilege  of  renewing  again 
after  the  expiration  of  the  term  ;  and  although  the  o^^^ler  would 
gladly  have  been  released  from  the  obligation,  Girard,  true  to  the 
principles  which  he  afterward  more  fully  developed,  insisted  on 
claiming  his  right,  and  the  large  profit  derived  from  the  rent  of 
these  stores  is  tliought  to  have  laid  tiic  foundation  of  his  immense 
fortune.  For  some  years  he  traded  in  partnership  with  his  brother 
John,  but  the  irascible  temper  and  indomitable  self-will  of  Stephen, 
combined  with  other  causes,  imluced  a  sepaj'ation  in  1790,  at 
wliich  time  his  property  amoimtcd  to  but  thirty  thousand  dollars. 
After  this  separation  the  wealth  of  Girard  increased  Avith  woiiderful 
rapidity:  his  genius  for  trade,  inilrammeled  by  any  connection  with 
others,  manifested  itself  in  great  enterprises,  which  were  continued 
for  a  long  series  of  years,  ami  atlended  with  almost  luiiform  suc- 
cess. His  prudence,  skill,  and  foresight,  enabled  him  to  anticipate 
the  course  of  events  in  tracie,  and  soon  obtained  for  him  the  cha- 
racter of  a  fortunate  man.  An  instance  of  his  good  luck,  as  it  was 
termed,  was  the  fact  of  liis  having  two  vessels  at  St.  Domingo  at 
the  time  of  the  ncgio  insurrection,  during  the  excitement  of  which, 
many  of  the  inhabitants  hurried  their  property  on  board  of  the  ves- 
sels in  port,  and  were  afterward  massacred  by  the  slaves.  The 
property  unclaimed,  of  cotu-se,  fell  into  the  possession  of  the  ship- 
owners ;  and  the  amount  whicli  remained  in  the  liands  of  Girard, 
after  all  possible  efforts  bad  been  made,  without  success,  to  discover 
11* 


1841.]  Girard  College.  167 

llie  heirs,  exceeded,  it  is  supposed,  the  sum  of  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lai's.  He  entered  into  the  India  trade  about  1790,  and  shortly  after 
built  several  shijis,  the  names  of  which — Voltaire,  ^Montesquieu, 
and  llclvctius — may  serve  as  some  index  to  the  prevaihng  character 
of  his  mind. 

Up  to  the  year  1793,  memorable  in  th6  aimals  of  Philadelphia 
for  the  violence  with  which  the  yellow  fever  raged  among  its  popu- 
lation, Girard  \\"as  only  known  as  a  painstaking,  industrious  man, 
and  a  successful  merchant.  So  far  from  being  considered  bene- 
volent, his  general  habits  of  economy,  and  the  entire  absence  of  any 
thing  like  generosity  in  his  character,  had  prociu'ed  for  him  the 
reputation  of  selfishness.  But,  at  this  time,  the  conduct  of  Jfr. 
Girard,  from  whatever  motives  it  originated,  bore  the  outward  form, 
at  least,  of  the  piu-est  and  most  self-sacrificing  philanthropy ;  and 
lie  deserves,  and  should  receive,  the  highest  tribute  of  admiration 
and  jjraise  for  these  noble  and  priceless  services  lo  his  distressed 
and  dying  fellow  citizens,  rendered,  too,  in  the  midst  of  universal 
terror  and  alarm,  when,  in  the  minds  of  most  men,  all  humane  and 
kindly  feelings  vanished,  and  the  hitensely  selfish  impulse  of  self- 
preservation  took  the  place  of  benevolence  and  love.  The  follow- 
ing passage  is  quoted  by  his  biographer,  from  a  pamphlet  by  M. 
Carey,  Esq.,  himself  one  of  the  noblest  of  those  who  stepped  for- 
ward in  that  time  of  pestilence,  and  risked  their  lives  for  the  good 
of  their  fellows,  in  wliich  he  gives  an  account  of  the  ravages  of  the 
disease,  and  commemorates  the  names  of  those  who  united  with 
liim  in  deeds  of  mercy  : — 

"  At  the  meeting  on  Sunday,  September  ]  5,  a  circumstance  occurred, 
to  wliich  tlic  most  flowing  pencil  could  hardly  do  justice.  Steplicn 
Girard,  a  wealthy  merchant,  a  native  of  France,  sympathizing  with  the 
wrtichcd  sitiialioii  of  the  suflLTers  at  Bush-hill,  voluntarily  and  uncx- 
poctcdly  offered  liiniself  as  a  manager,  to  superintend  that  hospital. 
The  surprise  and  satisfaction  excited  by  this  extraordinary  cflbrt  of 
humanity  can  be  better  conceived  than  expressed."  "The  perse- 
verance of  the  managers  of  that  hospital  was  eqtially  meritorious  with 
their  original  magnanimous  beneficence.  During  the  whole  calamity 
they  have  attended  uninterruptedly,  for  six,  seven,  or  eight  hours  a 
day,  renouncing  almost  every  care  of  private  affairs.  Stephen  Girard, 
whose  otHce  was  in  the  interior  part  of  the  hospital,  has  had  to  en- 
courage and  comfort  the  sick,  to  hand  them  necessaries  and  medicines, 
towijK-  the  sweat  off  their  brows,  and  to  perform  many  disirustiag 
nfiiees  of  kindness  for  them,  whieh  nothing  coidd  render  tolerable  but 
the  exalted  motives  that  impelled  liim  to  this  heroic  conduct." 


168  '  Girard  College.  [April, 

From  this  time,  up  to  the  year  1812,  Girard  followed  his  mer- 
cantile business  with  unrcniilling  activity;  superintending,  in  liis 
own  person,  the  vast  and  complicated  operations  of  the  trade  ihat 
grew  up  aroiuid  him,  and  surprising  all  men  by  the  extent  of  his 
schemes,  the  magnificence  of  his  cntcq)rises,  and  the  grandeur  of 
iheir  results.  At  the  s.-nne  time,  he  was  noted  for  his  habits  of 
strict  economy ;  no  useless  expenditures  were  kno\\'n  about  his 
person,  houses,  or  ships ;  no  extravagant  salaries  were  paid  to 
clerks  or  agents ;  no  idle  generosity,  as  he  would  have  called  it, 
diminished  his  means  ;  but  every  avenue  to  wealth  was  opened  and 
pursued,  while  every  possible  drain  upon  his  property  was  effeo- 
tually  closed.  Without  children,  without  friends,  almost  without 
feeling  (^^■here  money  v.as  concerned)  for  the  wants  of  men,  with 
no  ear  for  the  cry  of  poverty,  and  no  heart  to  sympathize  with  wo, 
he  was  determined  to  be  rich ;  the  ambition  grew  up  in  his  sou], 
strong  and  impulsive,  to  be  distinguished  for  his  wealtli — and  rich 
he  became,  for  wliat  was  to  prevent  it? 

In  the  year  1S12  he  as.suined  a  new  character,  and  to  the  name 
of  the  great  merchant  resolved  to  add  tliat  of  the  great  banker. 
The  charter  of  the  old  bank  of  the  United  Slates  having  expired, 
and  its  business  being  wound  up,  he  detennined  to  piuchase  the 
banking  house,  and  to  continue  tiie  operations  of  the  institution  on 
his  own  private  account.  On  the  12lh  of  May,  in  the  year  above 
mentioned,  he  eonnncnccd  business  with  a  capital  of  one  million 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  to  which,  in  the  following  year,  he 
added  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  more.  So  vast  had  been  the 
increase  of  his  wealth  in  iwonty  years,  that  he  was  able  to  accom- 
plish this  object  without  any  material  interference  with  the  regular 
course  of  his  mercantile  business.  From  this  time,  to  the  period 
of  his  death,  the  bank  continued  in  operation,  and  was  of  great 
service  to  the  business  connnunity  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  Its 
credit  was  never  shaken  ;  his  promise  to  pay  was  never  violated  ; 
no  note  was  ever  presented  at  liis  counter  thai  was  not  paid  in 
specie,  when  specie  was  required.  His  ships  continued  to  visit 
every  land,  and  to  bring  liome  to  his  warehouses  the  richest  and 
most  timely  frciglits  :  the  products  of  every  clime,  the  rich  harvests 
of  one  land,  and  the  famine  of  another ;  the  peace  and  prosperity 
of  one  country,  and  the  wars  and  bloodshed  which  devastated 
others,  all  were  made  tributary  to  his  wealth  and  ministers  to  his 


1841.]  Girard  CoUcgc.  160 

ambition.  In  liis  later  years,  according  to  the  usual  turn  of  luunan 
pursuits,  the  passion  for  building  seized  him,  and,  under  his  magic 
sj)cll,  old  tcjicments  vanished  to  make  way  for  lofty  warehouses  ; 
new  streets  were  laid  out,  and  whole  blocks  of  dwcliiiigs  arose  in 
every  quarter  of  the  city.  His  heallh  continued  to  be  good ;  his 
vigorous  frame  and  temperate  habits  enabled  him  to  perform  an 
amount  of  labor  that  would  have  destroj^ed  an  ordinary  constitiUion ; 
and,  with  untiring  energy,  he  continued  to  direct  the  whole  machinery 
of  his  vast  estate,  almost  to  the  end.  He  hardly  knew  what  boclily 
afHiction  was  until  the  year  1830,  when  he  met  with  aji  accidciU  in 
CTOSsing  the  street,  from  the  careless-  driving  of  a  market  wagon, 
which  confined  liim  for  some  weeks,  and  which  evidently  contri- 
buted much  to  the  breaking  up  of  his  constitution.  In  Dccemlier, 
1831,  he  was  attacked  with  a  prevailing  influenza,  as  it  was  tcnncd, 
which  put  a  period  to  his  existence  on  the  twenly-sixth  day  of  the 
month,  in  the  eighty-second  year  of  his  age.  The  disease  seized 
upon  his  brain,  so  that  he  was  ignorant  of  his  real  condition  wlien 
tlie  last  euciny  came  upon  him.  His  biographer  tells  us,  that  "  but 
a  short  time  before  he  died,  he  got  out  of  bed  and  walked  across 
the  room  to  a  chair ;  but  ahnost  immediatelj'  returned  to  his  bed, 
placing  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  exclaiming,  '  How  violent  is  this 
disorder  !  How  very  extraordinary  it  is  !'  These  were  the  last 
words  he  spoke  to  be  understood,  and,  soon  after,  he  expired  ;  thus 
vcrifyuig  the  opinion,  which  he  had  ahvaA's  entertained,  that  nature 
would  remove  him  from  this  scene  of  existence,  as  she  had  brought 
liim  into  it,  without  his  care,  consciousness,  or  co-operation." 

A  few  remarks  upon  the  character  of  3Ir.  Girard  will  close  this 
desultory  notice  of  his  life.  He  was  naturally  a  man  of  strong 
passions ;  lu's  anger  was  easily  excited,  and  sometimes  became 
almost  ungovernable ;  his  appetites  were  strong,  and  were  freely 
itidulged,  except  when  indulgence  woidd  intcjfere  with  business  ; 
and,  on  the  whole,  his  physical  constitution  was  such  as  seems  to  j 

be  essential  to  gi-eat  eminence  in  any  line  of  life — powerful  and 
energetic  in  all  its  operations.  Without  such  a  constitution  he 
might  have  been  less  irascible  and  more  kindly,  but  without  it  he 
could  not  have  performed,  as  he  did  tlurough  the  whole  course  of 
his  business  life,  the  labor  of  tlu-ee  or  four  common  men.  The 
most  tliat  can  be  said  of  Girard's  moral  character  is,  that  he  was 
a  good  citizen,  that  he  violated  no  laws,  de^mved  no  man  of  his 


170  Girard  College.  [April, 

property,  was  just  and  iiprighl,  to  a  great  extent,  in  all  his  dealings, 
and  never  applied  his  vast  wcallii  cither  to  oppress  individuals  or  to 
injure  the  comnnuiity.  On  the  other  hand,  there  arc  instances  on 
record  of  his  stepping  forward  in  times  of  great  public  distress  to 
relieve  the  wants  of  government  Ijy  large  loans,  which  other  men 
were  imwillhig  to  subscribe.  Such  a  case  occuiTcd  during  the  late 
war,  when  the  national  treasury  was  empty,  and  government  offered, 
in  vain,  a  small  loan  of  five  millions,  at  seven  per  cent.,  which  the 
capitalists  were  unwilling  to  touch,  and  wliich  was  finally  takeii, 
entire,  by  Mr.  Girard.  Another  instance  of  public  spirit,  of  a 
similar  character,  occiurcd  in  1S29,  when  he  loaned  the  governor 
of  Pennsjdvania  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  on  the  personal 
credit  of  the  executive,  before  the  loan  was  authorized  by  the  legis- 
latme.  Whether  these  actions  were  chelated  by  an  enlarged  fore- 
sight, which  had  in  \ic\\  the  welfare  of  the  community,  or  by  an 
ambition  to  do  gi-eat  things,  or,  by  a  narrower  policy,  to  prevent 
any  loss  tliat  might  accrue  to  his  omi  estate  from  the  prostration 
of  business  and  tlic  depreciation  of  property ;  in  any  view  of  the 
matter,  Girard  should  have  the  credit  of  these  patriotic  and  praise- 
worthy actions,  for  such  tliey  certainly  were.  But,  with  all  the 
praise  that  is  due  to  the  good  deeds  of  Mr.  Girard,  we  must  yet, 
in  justice,  present  liis  loose  moral  character,  in  connection  with  the 
fact  of  his  being  an  infidel  in  religion,  as  the  former  is  a  most  in- 
structive commcntar)'-  upon  the  latter.  We  are  told  by  his  bio- 
grapher, that  he  was  an  "  utter  iinbeliever  in  all  modes  of  a  future 
existence,  and  rejected,  with  inward  contempt,  every  formulary  of 
religion,  as  idle,  vain,  and  mmicaning ;"  that  he  was  kno\Mr  "to  be 
totally  irreligious ;  and  to  atlcmiM.  to  conceal  what  is  notorious, 
would  be  to  suppress  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  features  of  his 
character,  without  adding  vigor  to  the  cause  of  religion,  or  giving 
force  to  llie  precepts  of  virtue."  The  principal  authors  in  his 
small  library  were  Rousseau,  ndvctius,  and  Voltaire ;  and  whatever 
opinions  he  possessed  on  religious  subjects  seem  to  have  been  drawn 
from  these  somccs. 

After  such  an  exposition  of  his  religious  opinions  we  do  not  need 
to  be  told  that  hccntiousness  and  profanity  were  among  the  vices 
of  Girard  ;  while  benevolent  and  charitable  feelings  were  not  among 
his  virtues  ;  that  most  actions  of  his  life  were  the  result  of  cool  and 
deliberate  selfishness  ;  that  friendship  was  a  stranger  to  his  bosom, 


1811.]  Girard  College.  171 

while  love  never  played  around  his  icy  heart.  But  it  is  an  ungi-atc 
ful,  even  though  it  may  bo  a  necessaiy  task,  to  record  the  unliappy 
fruits  of  iiifidclily,  so  practically  and  so  prominently  exhibited. 
Let  us  turn  from  the  moral  to  the  intellectual  character  of  the  man, 
\vhi:u;  we  shall  see  much  to  admire  and  to  imitate. 

^\'c  have  abeady  seen  that  he  was  possessed  of  talents  of  a  high 
order,  as,  indeed,  no  indificrcnt  abilities  would  ever  have  enabled 
liiui  to  surmomit  the  difficulties  that  encompassed  him  when  he 
conuncnccd  his  career,  a  stranger,  without  friends,  in  poverty,  and 
fvc]i  -without  the  rudiments  of  a  commercial  education,  and  to  con- 
tinue, for  so  many  long  years,  a  course  of  almost  uninterrupted 
success,  until  the  final  consimimation  of  all  liis  desires  and  aspira- 
tions was  obtained,  in  the  enormous  and  almost  unparalleled  wealth 
which  the  wand  of  his  own  industry  had  called  into  being.  We 
liavc  always  admired  the  character  of  tlie  adventurous  and  skilful 
merchant ;  and  when  these  qualities  are  crowned  with  splendid 
success,  as  in  the  case  of  Girard,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  power 
of  genius  should  not  be  recognized  in  the  handiwork  of  th.c  mer- 
chant, as  well  as  in  the  productions  of  the  pencil  or  the  chisel,  in 
the  triumphs  of  the  sword,  in  the  creations  of  the  poet,  or  in  the 
discoveries  of  the  philosopher.  The  keen  sagacity,  the  compre- 
licnsivc  judgment,  the  ready  memory,  the  prompt  decision,  and, 
perhaps  more  than  all,  the  unhesitating  boldness  that  must  be  em- 
ployed by  the  men  wliose  commercial  enterprises  involve  their 
whole  possessions,  and  whose  plans  and  projects  are  limited  only 
by  the  extent  of  the  liabitEiblc  world,  are  some  of  the  highest  and 
jno.-^t  jiowcrful  attributes  of  the  human  mind ;  and  all  these  were 
pos.^es.sed  by  Girard  to  a  degree  perhaps  unrivaled  in  his  age.  It 
coulii  not  be  but  that  such  a  man  would  feel  keenly  the  w-ant  of  an 
early  education,  though  his  pride  prevented  him  from  exhibiting 
any  such  feeling  during  liis  hfe,  and,  perhaps,  the  very  conscious- 
ness of  his  inferiority  in  this  respect  may  have  increased  the  enjoy- 
ment of  his  success,  and  given  zest  to  his  delight  in  suii?assing, 
beyond  all  bounds,  the  well-trained  and  highly  educated  merchants 
of  the  city  of  his  adoption.  But  though  he  did  not  turn  aside  from 
t!ic  straight  line  of  his  daily  and  unintermitting  toil  to  devote  him- 
''tlf  to  any  systematic  cflbrts  for  the  diffusion  of  education,  allhougli 
lie  w:is  never  so  much  as  heai'd  to  intimate,  during  his  life,  a  design 
of  ajipro].riating  any  portion  of  liis  vast  Avealth  to  such  objects,  it  is 


172  Girard  College.  [ApnJ, 

clear  from  the  result  that  his  mind  liad  long  dwelt  upon  the  subject, 
that  his  own  wants  and  deficienccs  had  made  no  slight  impression 
upon  him,  and  that,  solitary  as  he  was,  and  aloof  as  he  held  him- 
self from  the  ordinary  sympathies  and  fellowships  of  men,  the 
secret  fountains  of  hirnian  feeling  were  not  altogether  dried  up 
■within  him,  nor  the  kindly  alTections  of  our  nature  entirely  uprooted 
from  his  heart.  The  following  jiassage  from  his  will  is  interesting, 
both  as  confirming  the  rcmarl;  just  made,  and  as  illustrating  his 
own  views  of  the  necessity  and  advantages  of  early  education  : — 

"  And  whereas,  I  have  been  fur  a  long  time  impressed  with  the  im- 
portance of  educating  tlic  poor,  and  of  jilacing  them,  by  the  early  cul- 
tivation of  their  minds,  and  llic  drvilopincnt  of  their  moral  principles, 
above  the  many  tem])tations,  to  Mliiili,  through  poverty  and  ignorance, 
they  are  exposed;  and  I  am  par'.icidarly  desirous  to  provide  for  such 
a  niunber  of  poor  white  male  orjilinn  children,  as  can  be  trained  in  one 
institution,  a  better  education,  as  well  as  a  more  comfortable  mainte- 
nance, than  ihcy  usually  receive  from  the  application  of  the  public 
funds,"  &Lc.—  Will,  art.  'xx. 

To  give  effect  to  this  determination,  he  resolved  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  a  college  fur  or^  <hans,  on  a  scale  sufficiently  exten- 
sive to  aflord  a  wide  sjihere  for  the  operations  of  his  bounty,  and 
sufficiently  grand  to  attract  universal  attention,  and  thus  to  throw 
around  his  name  a  lustre  wliich  his  wealth  alone  could  never  have 
imparted.  Indeed,  we  liave  little  doubt  that  the  earnest  ambition 
for  posthumous  distinction  was  not  inferior  to  tlic  desire  of  applying 
his  hoarded  treasures  to  useful  and  benevolent  purposes,  in  impel- 
ling Girard  to  the  course  wliieh  lie  pursued  ;  and,  m  our  estimation, 
this  ambition  is  a  redeeming  feature  in  his  character,  when  thrown 
into  contrast  witli  the  mere  love  of  gain,  the  restless,  unsatisfied 
craving  of  the  iniscr's  heart,  wliich  was  supposed  to  be  the  moving 
spring  of  his  actions,  and  the  great  rule  of  liis  conduct,  during  his 
long  and  busy  life.  If  sucli  were  really  liis  motives,  we  think  he 
could  not  have  laid  liis  plans  more  wisely,  in  order  to  insure  their 
accomplishment ;  and  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  we  think  that  the 
popidar  clamor  wliich  has  been  raised  against  the  executors  of  his 
estate  on  account  of  tlic  gi-aiideur  of  the  edifice  which  they  are 
erecting,  in  pursuance  of  his  will,  is  entirely  wide  of  the  mark. 
Tliese  marble  walls  will  doulitlcss  survive  the  waste  of  many  cen- 
turies ;  these  halls  of  science  will  be  open  and  thronged  with  busy 
crowds,  ages  after  even  the  names  of  most  of  the  petty  great  men 


1811.]  .  Girard  College.  173 

of  the  day  arc  forgotten  ;  and  while  no  other  memorial  of  the  great 
merchant  will  outlast  a  hundred  years,  this  school  for  orphans  will 
remain  to  perpetuate  his  name,  and  to  add  lustre  to  his  character 
to  the  latest  posterity.  The  design  of  Mr.  Giraid  was,  that  after 
his  death,  to  use  his  own  language,  "  his  works  should  speak  for 
him ;"  the  college  was  to  be  a  monument  of  his  wealth,  munifi- 
cence, and  judgment ;  and  visions  of  posthumous  glory  no  doubt 
crowded  up  before  his  ambitious  spirit,  during  the  long  year's,  when 
"  without  any  of  the  ordinary  stimulants  to  exertion,  urged  bj'  neither 
his  o\vn  wants,  nor  the  wants  of  others,  with  riches  already  beyond 
tJie  hopes  of  avarice,  he  yet  persevered  in  this  unceasing  scheme 
of  accumulation  ;  and  possessing  so  much,  strove  to  possess  more 
as  anxiously  as  if  he  possessed  nothing."  To  continue  the  beautiful 
language  of  Mr.  Biddle's  Address  at  the  laying  of  the  corner 
stone : — 

"  From  the  moment  that  foundation  stone  touched  the  gToniul,  the 
namo  of  Girard  was  beyond  the  reach  of  oblivion.  He  has  now  taken 
Ills  rank  among  tlie  great  benefactors  of  mankind.  AVhile  letters  and  the 
arts  exist,  he  will  be  cited  as  the  man  who,  with  a  generous  spirit, 
anil  a  sagacious  foresight,  bequeathed,  for  the  improvement  of  his  fel- 
low men,  tlie  ^accumulated  earnings  of  his  life.  He  M-ill  be  remem- 
bered in  all  future  times  by  the  emphatic  title  by  which  he  chose  to 
be  designated,  and  with  which  he  commences  his  will,  a  title  by 
which  wc  oirrsclvcs  may  proudly  recogTiize  him,  as  '  Stephen  Girard, 
of  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  in  the  conmiouwealth  of  Pennsylvania, 
merchant  and  marhier' — the  author  of  a  more  munificent  act  of  en- 
lightened charity  than  was  ever  performed  by  any  other  human  being." 
— BidJIc's  Address,  p.  13. 

JIunificcnt  indeed  it  was  !  According  to  the  estimates  presented 
in  Mr.  Biddle's  Address,  the  sum  appropriated  for  the  foundation 
and  endowment  of  the  college  will  yield,  after  the  completion  of 
the  building,  an  annual  income  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  ; 
and  if  these  funds  should  prove  insufllcicnt,  provision  is  made  for 
au'application  of  other  portions  of  the  estate  to  the  same  pitrpose, 
by  which  the  yearly  income  may  be  increased  to  at  least  two  hun- 
dred and  twenty  thousand  dollars,  the  interest  of  nearly  four  mil- 
lions !  Of  course  the  whole  communilj'  has  felt  an  interest  in  the 
application  of  this  immense  amoimt,  especially  as  the  purposes  for 
which  it  was  gathered  and  appropriated  bear  upon  the  real  or  pos- 
sible wants  of  the  entire  mass  of  society,  for  no  man  knows  how 
soon  his  children  may  be  orphans.     The  views  of  ]Mr.  Girard  him- 


174  Girard  College .  [April, 

self,  in  regard  to  the  principles  on  which  the  institution  should  be 
established,  the  ends  that  should  be  aimed  at,  and  the  means  to  be 
emplo3-cd  for  their  attainment,  are  set  fortli,  in  general  terms  at 
least,  in  his  will.  The  education  and  mahitenance  of  poor  white 
male  orphans  is  the  great  purpose  of  the  college ;  the  instruction 
given  is  to  embrace  every  thing  necessary  lo  form  a  soundly  edu- 
cated man— physical,  InlcUecUial,  and  moral  development;  all  the 
necessary  books,  furniture,  and  apjiaratus  ;  all  the  means  and  ap- 
pliances of  instruction,  that  ingenuity  can  devise  and  wealth  pur- 
chase, are  here  to  be  provided,  without  stint,  and  almost  without 
measure ;  and,  finally,  competent  instructors,  teachers,  assistants, 
ajid  other  necessary  agents  arc  to  be  employed,  and  adequately 
compensated  for  their  services.  Such,  in  brief,  are  the  objects  laid 
do\vn  by  Mr.  Giraad  in  his  will,  and  they  all  evince  the  extent  of 
his  foresight,  and  the  practical  sagacity  for  wliich  his  conduct  ^^•as 
so  remarkable.  But  there  is  another  clause  of  the  ^vill  which  we 
are  bound  to  notice  more  pointedly,  and  in  a  different  strain ;  and 
which,  if  carried  out  in  sjnrit,  is  almost  sufficient  to  nullify  all  the 
good  that  the  college  coidd  accomplish,  and  make  it,  mstcad  of 
being  a  nursery  of  virtuous  and  well-educated  citizens,  the  curse 
of  the  republic,  as  a  scminarj'  of  vice  and  infidelity.  In  the  twenty- 
first  article  of  the  will  are  some  restrictions  which  Mr.  Girard  con- 
sidered it  his  duly  to  prescribe  ;  one  of  which  runs  as  follows  : — 

"  Sccondl)-,  I  enjoin  and  reqnin;  thai  no  ecclcsiasdc,  missionar}-,  or 
minister  of  any  sect  whatsoever,  shall  ever  hold  or  exercise  any  station 
or  duty  whatever  in  the  said  eollcL'e  ;  nor  shall  any  such  person  ever 
be  admitted  for  any  purpose,  or  as  a  visitor,  within  the  premises  appro- 
priated to  the  purposes  of  the  said  roUege.  In  making  this  restriction, 
I  do  not  mean  to  cast  any  nflcciion  upon  anj'  sect  or  person  whatso- 
ever;  but,  as  there  is  such  a  mukiludc  of  sects,  and  such  a  diversity 
of  opinion  amoufr  them,  I  drsirc  li>  kcrp  ilie  tender  minds  of  the  orphans, 
who  are  to  derive  advantaL'i-  from  this  bequest,  free  from  the  excite- 
ment which  clashing  doctrines  and  sectarian  controversy  are  so  apt  to 
produce." — WiU,  p.  23. 

At  this  feature  of  Mr.  Girard's  scheme  the  religious  public  were 
generally  and  justly  alarmed  ;  for  none  could  mistake  the  spuit 
which  dictated  so  unworthy  and  invidious  a  restriction,  going  even 
to  the  extent  of  prohibiting  a  large  class  of  men  from  occasional 
visits  to  the  institution.  In  view  of  the  peculiar  character  of 
Girard,  we  could  have  passed  over  the  exclusion  of  clergymen 
from  the  active  management  of  the  college,  however  wc  might  re- 


1S41.]  Girard  College.  175 

fiTCt  ihc  unliappy  state  of  mind  which  could  lead  to  so  unwise  and 
injudicious  a  course  ;  but  here  was  so  plain  and  clear  an  exhibition 
of  the  sjiirit  of  the  man,  and  of  his  unmitigated  hostility  to  the  rc- 
liiiioi:  of  Christ,  that  a  thrill  of  alarm  ran  through  the  minds  of  all 
good  men,  from  one  end  of  the  Union  to  the  otkcr.  The  sentiment 
of  the  Christian  world  has  been,  in  the  poetic  language  of  the  book 
wliicli  it  is  the  special  duly  of  Christian  ministers  alone  to  expound 
and  enforce  :  "How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  arc  the  feet  of 
liim  that  bringeth  good  tidings,  that  pubhsheth  peace  ;"  but  to  the 
niurbid  apprehension  of  Girard,  the  'very  tread  of  a  Christian 
preacher  is  pollution ;  his  tidings  are  only  the  messengers  of  con- 
icnlion  ;  and  the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  liim  is  tainted  by  the 
breath  of  discord,  instead  of  being  fragrant  -with  the  sweet  perfume 
of  peace  !  No  wonder,  then,  that  good  men  were  shocked,  and 
virtuous  men  alaa-med,  by  so  open  an  attack,  in  so  solemn  and  im- 
portant an  instrument,  upon  the  living  ministry  of  Christ's  church, 
which,  if  tlicre  be  any  truth  in  Christianity  at  all,  is  the  means  or- 
dained by  its  divine  Author  for  the  propagation  and  diffusion  of  its 
pure  principles  ;  upon  the  perpetual  watchmen  on  the  walls  of  Zion, 
'-who  are  bound  to  mark  her  bulwarks  and  her  palaces,  and  to  be  to 
the  citadel  "  a  defcnsed  brazen  wall ;"  and,  through  them,  upon  the 
ark  of  the  Lord,  which  it  is  their  high  office  to  carry  forward  in 
the  world.  Wo  confess,  for  ourselves,  that  at  one  time  we  in- 
dulged the  most  fearful  apprehensions  of  evil  from  this  will  and  its 
consequences ;  for  we  were  well  assured,  tliat  the  spirit  of  this 
restriction,  if  fully  adhered  to,  would  effectually  exclude  all  moral 
and  religious  instruction  on  Christian  principles  from  the  halls  of 
the  college,  and  we  were  not  without  fear  that  the  experiment 
might  be  attempted.  But  our  fears  were  allayed  to  some  extent, 
when  the  trustees  of  the  Girard  College  were  elected,  and  we 
found  among  the  number  men  of  the  highest  moral  and  religious 
cliaracter  ;  and  it  was  ver)^  soon  made  manifest,  that  while  the  will 
would  be  strictl3'%  adhered  to,  it  would  be  interpreted  on  Christian 
])rinciples  ;  and  as  direction  is  given  that  the  youth  shall  be  taught 
the  "  purest  principles  of  morality,"  it  is  very  clear  that  religious 
men  will  send  the  orphans  of  Girard  College  to  the  only  source 
of  a  spotless  morality — the  Christian  Scriptures.  'We  were  fur- 
ther reassrucd  by  the  following  remarks  of  Mr.  Biddle  in  his  Ad- 
dress at  the  lajnng  of  the  comer  stone  : — 


176  .  Girard  College.  [April, 

"To  intellectual  cultivation  will  be  added  that,  without  which  all 
instruction  is  valueless,  and  all  learning  the  mere  ability  for  evil,  tliat 
moral  discipline  which  makes  men  virUioiis  and  happ}-  at  ihtir  own 
firesides.  When  this  harmony  lietween  the  heart  and  the  nnderstand- 
ing  ceases,  mere  knowk-diie  is  a  rnrse,  and  nicn  become  inielleclnal 
statues,  with  the  perfect  forms  of  manly  exterior,  but  cold  and  sellish, 
and  worthless  to  the  community  which  endures  them.''— Address,  p.  19. 

Bill  if  any  thing  could  have  dispelled  our  fears  in  regard  to  this 
matter  cnlircly,  it  was  the  election,  in  the  summer  of  1S36,  of 
Alexander  Dallas  Baclic,  Esq.,  at  that  time  professor  of  Natural 
Philosophy  and  Chemistry  m  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  to  tlie 
presidency  of  the  college.  Knowing,  as  we  did,  from  personal 
acquaintance,  the  high  atlaiiunciils  of  ])r.  Bache,  his  intimate  and 
practical  knowledge  of  the  business  of  education,  and  the  enlarged 
and  comprehensive  intellect  wliicli  he  would  bring  to  bear  upon  tlie 
interests  committed  to  his  charge,  wc  were  sure  that  no  man  could 
have  been  found  more  thoroughl)^  capable  of  organizing,  upon  just 
and  substantial  principles,  so  peculiar  and  extensive  an  institution. 
But  although  these  qualificalions  of  Dr.  Bache  were  a  gxound  of 
assurance  that  the  college  woidil  be  well  organized,  so  far  as  tlie 
mere  object  of  physical  and  intellectual  education  was  concerned, 
it  was  in  our  luiowledgc  of  the  high  moral  character  of  the  presi- 
dent elect  that  wc  found  the  greatest  gratification,  and,  iipoji  this 
firm  basis,  we  built  our  hopes  that  the  cause  of  religion  would  yet 
find  an  ally  instead  of  a  foe  in  the  Girard  College.  Thus  far  we 
have  seen  no  reason  to  forsake  these  hopes  ;  and,  indeed,  the  volume 
before  us  affords  abundant  confirmation  of  them,  as  we  shall  pre- 
sently show.  We  rejoice,  then,  and  we  are  sure  that  our  readers 
will  rejoice  with  us,  in  the  knowledge  that  all  the  authorities  of  the 
college  have  declared,  that  morality,  "without  which,"  to  quote 
]\Ir.  Biddle  again,  "  knowledge  were  worse  than  unavaihng,"  is  to 
be  infused  into  its  organization,  and  make  a  part  of  its  regular  course 
of  instruction,  while  it  is  also  fully  understood  by  tiiera  that  this 
pure  and  elevated  morality  is  only  lo  be  found  in  the  Holy  Bible. 

The  Report  on  Educdtinn  in  Europe,  by  Dr.  Bache,  is  the  re- 
sult of  two  years  spent  by  him,  under  the  authority  of  tlie  trustees 
of  the  college,  in  visiting  the  priiicijjal  schools,  colleges,  and  orphan 
houses  of  England  and  the  continent,  for  the  purpose  of  examining 
and  comparing  their  various  methods  of  instruction  and  govern- 
ment.    We  cannot  belter  explain  the  origin  and  nature  of  the  Re- 


1  SI  1.1  Girard  College.  Ill 

port  than  by  quoting,  from  tlic  preface,  the  following  letter  of 
instniclions  to  Dr.  Bache,  drawn  up  by  the  conuiiittcc  on  scholastic 
oilucation  :* — 

'•  Hoard  of  Trustees  of  the  Girard  College  for  Orphans, 

''September  19,  183G. 

'■Tlic  board  of  trustees  are  charged  by  the  city  of  Philadelphia  to 
)ir(']i:ire  a  system  of  instruction  for  the  Girard  College  for  Orphans. 
I'or  iliis  piu-posc  ihey'are  anxious  to  have  the  most  accurate  informa- 
tion of  the  best  means  used  for  the  same  piurpose  elsewhere,  and  you 
li.ivc  been  selected  to  obtain  it. 

"  'i'our  object,  then,  is  to  visit  all  establishments  in  Europe  similar 
to  the  Girard  College ;  and  as  tliese  are  found  principally,  if  not  ex- 
clu.'>ivcly,  in  Enrrland,  Scotland,  Ireland,  France,  Belgiimi,  Holland, 
Switzerland,  Italy,  Austria,  Prussia,  and  the  rest  of  the  states  of  Ger- 
many, these  countries  will  form  the  natural  limits  of  yonr  tour.  Accord- 
ingly, all  institutions  in  each  of  those  countries  resembliiicr  the  Girard 
College,  or  any  others  which  promise  to  alibrd  uscfid  information  in 
o'fjanizing  it,  you  will  see  and  examine.  Your  own  rellectiou  will 
rcailily  suggest  the  points  of  information  desired,  and  I  will,  therefore, 
nierily  cnumeraio  a  few,  which  may  serve  as  a  basis  ibr  your  own 
e\;en.--ive  invesiigaiion.  Of  every  establishment  visited  by  )''ou,  we 
^llollld  wish  to  know — 

"  1.  Its  history,  general  administration,  and  the  nature  and  extent 
of  its  funds. 

'•  2.  Its  interior  organization  and  government ;  the  names,  titles,  and 
duties  of  all  the  persons  employed  in  it. 

"3.  Who  are  admitted  to  it,  and  the  forms  and  terms  of  admission, 
and  where  it  is  professedly  for  the  education  of  orphans  who  are  con- 
sidered as  orphans. 

"  4.  The  number  and  classification  of  the  scholars,  and  their  term 
of  residence. 

"  0.  'I'heir  course  of  studies,  in  the  minutest  details,  from  the  coni- 
mnieenicnt  to  the  end  of  their  residence  in  the  institution,  with  the 
Kxt  boolis  and  otlier  works  used. 

"(i.  As  a  part  of  that  course,  specially  important  to  the  Girard  Col- 
h--t;i-,  we  should  desire  to  know  the  regadations  or  the  practice  by  which, 
aaidiii^-  a  lart;e  body  of  scholars,  a  portion,  after  continuing  for  some 
imi"  in  the  institution,  are  permitted  to  begin  their  active  career  in  life, 
\\  hilc  others,  v.-illi  n-reater  aptitude  or  greater  willinoncss  to  learn,  are 
carried  uj)  to  the  higher  branches  of  education.  The  natm-e  and  the 
mode  of  that  discrimination  would  be  highly  interesting,  as  would 
also  be— 

"  7.  The  precise  extent  to  which  moral  and  religious  instruction  is 
jiroposed  to  be  given,  and  is  actuallj'  given,  and  also  by  whom,  and  in 
what  form  that  instruction  is  conveyed. 

*  ("onsisiing  of  Nicholas  Biddle,  chairman.  Dr.  J.  M.  Keag\',  J.  C.  BiiWl'?, 
•■^.  V.  Mcrriok,  ona  W.  W.  Huly,  Esqvs.  Two  of  these  arc  since  deccascJ, 
Dr.  Kea-y,  and  J.  C.  Biddle,  Esq. 


178  Girard  College.  [April, 

"  8.  The  mecliaiiical  arts  taught,  the  mode  of  teaching  them,  the 
models,  tools,  and  implenierits  of  all  kinds  employed,  and  the  manner 
in  which  the  practice  of  these  arts  is  mingled  with  the  routine  of 
studies. 

"  9.  The  system  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  regard  to  studies  or 
personal  conduct. 

"  10.  The  general  police  and  discipline  of  the  school. 

"11.  The  anuisements,  gymnastic  exercises,  games  of  all  kinds, 
uniting  instruction  with  agrecaljle  rela.\ation  ;  together  with  the  num- 
ber and  extent  of  the  vacations,  j)eeuiuary  allowance,  or  personal  in- 
dulgences to  tlie  scholars. 

"  13.  The  diet  and  clothing  of  the  scholars. 

"  13.  The  regidations  in  regard  to  health,  hours  of  study  and  of  rest, 
arrangement  as  to  sleeping  and  eating,  and  the  whole  routine  of  each 
day's  employment. 

"  14.  The  expenses  of  the  school,  including  salaries  and  all  inci- 
dents, with  the  average  annual  ox|icnse  of  each  scholar. 

'•  15.  The  structure  of  llii'  lulilding^;,  the  arrangement  of  dormitories, 
refectories,  play  grounds,  and  workshops,  illustrated  by  drawings,  where 
they  can  be  procured. 

"  16.  As  a  proper  foundaiion  for  similar  statistical  inquiries  in  this 
countrv-,  you  will  collect  all  the  inlormation  you  can  in  respect  to  the 
proportion  of  orphans  to  the  rest  of  the  community. 

These  general  heads  of  inquiry,  which  you  can  easily  rauhiply,  will 
indicate  the  wish  of  the  board  that  yoiu"  examination  should  be 
thorough  and  practical.  They  already  possess,  or  may  easily  obtain, 
all  that  books  can  teach  on  the  suliject.  It  is  your  especial  duty  to 
study  the  actual  working  of  the  machinery  of  education;  to  domes- 
ticate yoirrsrlf,  if  practicable,  in  these  institutions,  and  by  your  own 
personal  observation  to  distinguish  what  is  really  useful  from  what  is 
merely  plausible  in  theory. 

"  It  is  this  anxiety  that  your  investigation  should  be  complete,  which 
induces  them  not  to  fix  ai  present  any  period  for  your  return.  How 
much  time  it  may  require  cannot  now  be  safely  determined.  They 
rely  confidently  on  yunr  diligence,  and  are  sure  that  you  will  not  pro- 
long your  absence  without  ample  reason.  While,  therefore,  they  are 
very  anxious  to  open  the  college  with  the  least  possible  delay,  they 
deem  it  so  much  more  important  to  begin  well  than  to  begin  soon,  that 
they  postpone  naming  any  limit  to  your  stay  in  Europe,  imtil  you  are 
able  to  apprise  them  of  your  progress. 

"  In  respect  to  the  purchase  of  books  and  apparatus,  mentioned  in 
the  resolution  of  the  board,  it  is  not  their  wish  that  you  should,  at  this 
time,  purchase  a  lil)rary,  or  an  extensive  philosophical  apparatus.  You 
will  only  inquire  where  they  can  be  best  procured  hereafter,  and,  in 
the  mean  time,  limit  your  actual  purchases  to  text  books  and  other 
works  used  in  schools,  or  which  may  assist  your  inquiries,  to  models, 
drawings,  and  such  philosophical  instruments  as  may  be  necessarj-  or 
useful  in  opening  the  college,  or  which  you  may  deem  it  expedient  to 
procure  in  anticipation  of  the  larger  collection. 

"  The  materials  and  iul'oniiation  thus  acquired  you  will,  on  your 


]S41.]  Girard  College.  179 

return,  present  to  the  board  of  trustees,  and  at  the  same  time,  or  as 
soon  thcrcaricr  as  practicable,  you  will  prepare  a  final  report,  with  a 
jilaii  for  the  government  and  instrviction  of  the  college,  the  result  of  all 
your  examination  and  reflection. 

'•  In  ilio  mean  time,  you  will  keep  the  board  constantly  advised  of 
your  movements. 

"  With  my  best  wishes  that  yoiu'  mission  may  be  as  pleasant  as  1 

am  .''Urc  it  uill  be  usefid,  I  remain,  yoius  truly,  I 

"  N.  BiDDLE,  Chairman.  I 

■'  A.  D.  Bache,  Esq.,  \ 

"  President  of  the  Girard  College  for  Orphans."  | 

Under  lliese  instructions,  Dr.  Bache  departed  from  tliis  coitntry  | 

in  the  latter  end  of  September,  1836,  and,  after  having  visited  the  I 

cliicf  cotintries  of  Etirope  which  were  the  most  interesting  for  liis  | 

tnidcrlaking,  completed  his  toiir  m  October,  183S.     In  the  course  | 

of  the  next  year,  tlie  Repoit  was  prepared  and  presented  to  tiie  | 

Ixxird.     The  following  extract  from  the  introduction  -svill  show  tlie  | 

comprelicnsive  views  which  guided  Dr.  Bache  in  the  course  of  | 

liis    laborious    tour,    and   wliich    are  developed  in  the  work   be-  j 
fore  us  : — 

"  Whoever  has  even  glanced  at  the  part  of  the  will  of  Air.  Girard 
which  relates  to  the  endowment  of  a  college  for  orphans,  must  have 
])erccivcd  that  he  intended  no  ordinary  orphan  asylum  to  bo  created 
with  the  immense  fund  which  his  liberality  intrusted  to  the  authorities 
of  the  city  of  his  adoption.  Mr.  Girard  has  put  himself  in  the  place 
of  a  father  to  the  orphan,  and  has  determined  that  talent  shall  have  all 
the  opportunities  lor  development,  by  education,  within  the  reach  of 
children  the  most  favored  by  the  circumstances  of  their  parents.  A 
due  execution,  therefore,  of  the  instructions  of  the  scholastic  committee, 
re'|uired  not  merely  an  examination  of  orphan  houses  and  elcmentarj' 
.'^I'liools,  l>ut  of  the  various  modes  of  education  and  grades  of  instruc- 
tion. This  task  I  midertook  with  real  distrust  of  my  power  to  do  it 
jiisiicc,  notwithstanding  the  encouragement  extended  by  the  choice 
made  of  nic  bj'  gentlemen  for  whom  I  entertain  a  high  respect.  I  must 
I'e  allowed  to  say  that,  in  the  course  of  aUempting  its  execution,  I  have 
spared  no  personal  exertion,  and  that,  though  I  regret  it  was  not  in 
abler  hands,  my  conscience  acquits  nic  of  having  wasted  any  part  of 
the  time  or  means  so  liberally  placed  at  my  disposal  by  my  fellow 
ci'izcns." 

The  modest  self-distrust  which  the  above  extract  evinces,  while 
il  IS  perfectly  in  keeping  with  the  amiable  character  of  the  author, 
is  only  an  additional  proof  of  his  fitness  for  the  task  to  which 
11'-:  was  called  by  the  wise  choice  of  the  trustees.  We  may  remark 
licre,   that  the  general  tone   of  the  work  is  beyond  praise ;    attd 


180  Girard  College.  [April, 

no  fcaliu'C  of  its  spirit  is  more  wortliy  of  notice  than  the  extreme 
fairness  and  candor  with  which  all  ojiiiiions  are  examijied.  It  is 
clear,  tliat  the  love  of  truth,  rather  than  the  desire  of  confirming 
any  preconceived  notions,  animated  and  stimulated  all  the  re- 
searches of  the  author ;  liis  design  was  to  study  and  to  learn,  and 
admirably  has  he  accomplished  his  object,  and  presented  its  fruits, 
in  the  most  luminous  and  valuable  report  on  education  which  b.as 
.yet  been  given  to  the  world.  Tlie  general  arrangement  of  the 
work  is  clear  and  philosophical ;  the  style  is  plain,  unpretending, 
and  perspicuous  ;  and  although  the  author  expressly  disclaims  the 
attempt  to  sum  up  conclusions,  and  to  present  inferences  separately 
from  the  facts,  there  can  be  found  upon  almost  every  page  the 
endences  of  his  profound  thinking  upon  the  subject  of  education, 
imbodied-  in  acute  and  practical  remarks  upon  the  various  points 
that  were  touched  upon  in  the  course  of  his  observations.  From 
these  scattered  hints  and  valuable  remarks  we  might  easily  gather 
up,  and  present  to  our 'readers.  Dr.  Bache's  views,  and  the  result 
of  his  practical  investigations,  upon  the  chain  of  topics  which  na- 
turally suggest  themselves  in  any  genea-al  discussion  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  education  ;  but  we  }ircfcr  to  follow  him  in  the  course  which 
he  has  adopted,  and  shall,  therefore,  take  up,  in  order,  such  parts 
of  the  work  as  may  be  most  interesting,  and  examine  them  as  our 
limits  will  allow. 

The  Report  is  divided  into  two  parts  ;  the_/i?"s<  treats  of  institu- 
tions for  the  education  of  orphans  and  otlicr  destitute  children  ;  the 
second,  of  institutions- for  education  in  general.  In  the  first  part, 
the  establishments  selected  fur  remark  are  the  orphan  houses  and 
charity  schools  of  Great  IJrilain,  the  German  states,  and  Holland. 

The  first  chapter  treats  of  the  eleemosynary  institutions  of  G-reat 
Britain.  It  is  worthy  of  notice,  that  in  the  number  of  its  educa- 
tional charities,  orphan  asylums,  and  hospitals.  Great  Britain  ex- 
ceeds o\cry  other  country  in  Emopc  ;  and  of  those  in  Great  Britain, 
the  greater  number  of  well-conducted  and  well-endowed  schools  is 
found  in  Edinburgh,  while  the  oldest  is  the  celebrated  Blue-Coat 
School  of  London.  We  shall  quote  from  the  Report  some  inte- 
resting particulars  in  regard  to  this  last  school  and  Heriot's  Hospital 
in  Edinlnirgh,  omitting  all  notice  of  the  rest  from  want  of  room, 
though,  indeed,  there  is  less  necessity  for  noticing  them,  as  they  are 
mostly  organized  after  these  two  celebrated  models. 


ISll.]  GiraiJ  College. 


"Heriot's  Hospital. 


'•  Tills  noble  histilution,  originally  designed  for  the  maintenance  and 
eiltuMtioii  of  poor  falherless  sons  of  burgesses  or  freemen  of  the  city  of 
IMiiiluirL'b,  Mas  IbuuJed  in  pursuance  of  the  ^vill  of  George  lleriot, 
jmrlcr,  dated  )G23.  By  this  Avill  Dr.  Robert  Balcanqualf,  dean  of 
iioclie.sier,  and  master  of  the  Savo}",  London,  was  selected  to  draw  up 
the  statutes  for  the  organization  and  government  of  the  institution,  and 
to  decide  upon  the  plan  of  a  building.  By  the  statutes  of  Dr.  Balcan- 
quall,  dated  July,  1G27,  the  government  of  Heriot's  Hospital  is  vested 
in  the  provost,  bailiffs,  council,  and  nunisters  of  the  city  of  Edinburgh, 
ami  the  present  building  was  erected  between  1627  and  1650.  The 
charity  lias  been  extended  to  destitute  children  whose  parents  are 
livjiii;,  and  by  a  late  act  of  parliament  the  governors  have  been  autho- 
rized Xo  erect  day  schools  in  the  city  with  the  surplus  of  their  income, 
after  siipporting  llie  present  number  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  pupils 
in  the  hospital  itself.  The  building  is  in  the  Gothic  style,  vyith  the 
irregularities  and  excess  of  ornament  which  it  jicrraits,  and  is'  beauti- 
fidl\-  situated,  overlooking  part  of  the  old  town  of  Edinburgh,  and  having 
a  Ihie  view  of  its  ]ncturebi|ue  castle  and  of  the  new  town.  The  court 
about  which  the  biuldingis  erected,  serves  as  a  place  of  play  for  the 
liovs  at  certain  limes  ;  and  to  give  them  full  liberty  in  their  games  of 
hand-ball,  mIiicIi  seem  to  find  more  favor  among  them  than  regtdar 
gymnastic  exercises,  gratings  of  wire  are  placed  on  the  outside  of  the 
lower  windows,  which  protect  them  from  fracture.  At  first  the  effect 
of  llu'se  gratings  of  wire  struck  me  unpleasantly,  but  when  I  saw  the 
great  freedom  which  it  gave  to  the  younger  pujiils  in  their  games,  my 
lirst  impressions  were  entirely  removed."  "  The  new  comers  are 
separated  for  twelve  months  from  the  rest  of  the  boys  at  all  times. 
Occupying  separate  places  in  church  and  in  chapel,  and  separate  dor- 
mitories ;  taking  their  meals  and  exercise,  and  vi.-;iting  their  relations, 
at  dilferent  limes  from  the  others.  By  this  regulation  it  seems  to  me 
thit  ilie  force  of  good  example  is  made  ineftective,  and  that  each  new 
K't  of  hoys  rcriuircs  a  new  trainin<j.  I  am  not  aware  v.hcn  it  was  first 
enacted."  '•The  pupils  in  general  leave  the  in^tilution  at  fourteen 
yi'iir.s  of  age  ;  if  a  boy  is  not  fourteen  on  or  before  the  day  for  regtdar 
dismission,  he  remains  another  year  in  the  institution,  and  certain 
['i;pils  lire  retained  until  sixteen.  The  statutes  p>rovide  that  'hopeful 
bcliol.sr.s'  in.iy  receive,  for  four  years,  a  sum  of  money  to  enable  tliem 
to  .-iiiend  tile  classes  of  the  high  school  as  a  means  of  preparation  for, 
and  to  continue  their  education  at,  the  University  of  Edinbiu-gh.  The 
lM^tltntioa  pays  the  apprentice  fee  of  such  as  arc  bound  out,  and  gives 
irraiutities  to  those  who  produce  satisfactory  certificates  of  conduct  and 
l)roi;ress."  "  On  leaving  the  institution,  each  jnipil  receives  an  outfit 
of  clothing.  The  boys  intended  for  the  university  are  maintained  and 
clothed,  and  receive  a  certain  sum  per  annum."  "  The  corps  of  mas- 
t'  ts  IS  divided  into  resident  masters,  and  non-residents,  a  good  arrange- 
lU'  lit  when  the  teachers  are  numerous.  There  arc  resident  in  iho 
'"'"'"■'  '""^'dcs  the  house-governor,  who  has  charge  of  the  geographical 
tuid  r.ligunis  instruction,  and  of  part  of  the  historical  course,  two  raas- 

VoL.  I.— 13  '■ 


162  Girard  College.  [April,  | 

ters  of  the  English  branches,  a  mallicmaticnl,  and  a  classical  tcaclicr.  ^ 

The  non-resident  teachers  are  thnso  of  nnisic,  writing,  drawing,  and  | 

French.     The  music  tan<rht   is  chnrch   music  ;  and  the  drawing,  that  I 

denominated   nieclianieal   drawing.     The  jirincipal  labor  of  tcacldng  I 

the   various   courses  is   divided  among  five   masters.     Of  these,  the  I 

house-governor  teaclies  tln-ec  liuurs  c\cry  day ;    the    other   m;'.sters  1 

from   six  to   seven   lunirs,  besides   superintending  the   studies  for  an  3 

hour,  and,  in  rotation,  tal>iMg  cliartje  of  t)ie  boys  at  rising  and  going  to  3 

bed,  at  meals,  and  by  the  regidations  being  even  responsible  for  them  i 

during  play  time.     They  are  thus  decidedly  overburdened  with  labor,  i 

and  the  compensation  which  they  receive  for  this  devotion  is  not  such  | 

as  to  attach  them  periuanently  to  the   institution."     "  The  study  of  \ 

Latin  begins  in  the  i'ourtli  class,  or  after  the  boys  have  been  three  years  .^i 

in  tlic  school.     The  rcijvdations  provide  that  '  each  boy  shall  have  a  i 

fair  trial  of  the  study  of  Latin.     If  upon  the  average  of  the  first  year,  | 

he  be  found  in  the  lowest  two-thirds  of  the  class  to  which  he  belongs,  | 

he  shall  remain  iu  tlial  class  for  a  second  year;  and  if,  at  the  end  of  | 

the  second  year,  he  oceiii'V  no  higher  place  in  it,  he  shall  be  withdrawn  1 

from  the   study,  and   sIkiII   be  euLcaged  in  other  emplopnents.'     The  J 

execution  of  this  rule  inei  itably  d(  tains  a  boy  who  has  not  a  talent  for  j 

language  two  years  in  a  class  for  which  he  is  utterly  unfit,  injuring  his  % 

habits  of  attention,  wasting  linm  which  he  might  otherwise  employ  to  ^^ 

some   purpose,  and  renciiiMT   injuriously   upon  the   class.     In  fact,  a  | 

considi^rable  mniiber  >>(  tli.'  hoy^  n.  ver,  while  they  remain  in  the  school,  | 

get  beyonil  the  fourth  cl:i-^,  m  winch  the  elements  of  Latin  are  taught;  i 

and  of  those  who  jiursuc  the  Latin  studies,  very  few  succeed  in  sccur-  | 

ing  the  mtiver.sily  places.     'I'hus  for  the  sake  of  the  few  who  can  really  | 

benefit  by  the  classical  courses,  the  many  are  employed  upon  subjects 
■which,  to  say  the  least,  miijht  better  be  replaced  by  others.  I  am  far 
from  being  one  of  those  who  midcrvaluo  classical  culture,  but  I  am 
convinced  that  to  be  ai  all  efiective  it  must  be  thorough,  that  it  cannot 
be  thorough  wlien  the  instruction  is  terminated  at  art  early  age,  and 
that  there  arc  ciTtaiu  mijids  very  little  or  not  at  all  improvable  by  lan- 
guage, as  there  are  others  similarly  related  to  mathematical  studies. 
If  the  object  of  a  school  were  to  make  professional  men,  I  would  have 
the  classical  course  the  ride,  and  then,  consider  as  exceptional  cases 
those  who,  from  character  of  mind,  want  of  industr}',  inability  from 
circumstances  to  remain  siilliriently  long  in  the  school,  or  other  causes, 
■were  imable  to  benefit  largely  by  such  a  course  ;  hut  if  the  school  has 
a  majority  of  its  pupils  inleuiled  for  trades,  I  would  make  the  culture 
of  mind  (iependini;  i;pon  classics  the  exception.  It  is  easy  to  see  how 
such  a  system  couM  Ije  contrived,  and  there  are  many  institutions  on 
the  continent  of  Europ(.'  which  furnish  examples  of  the  plan." 

"  Rd'L^'ious  cm!  moral  instnidion. — The  positive  religious  instruction 
is  given  by  the  study  of  thi'  Bible,  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  and 
the  Catechism  of  the  Chin-ch  of  Scotland.  Family  worship  also  is  held 
morning  and  evening.  On  Sunday,  in  addition,  the  pupils  are  occupied 
one  hour  in  the  morning  in  the  study  of  tlie  Church  Catecliisin,  or  of  a 
Bible  lesson  or  liynm,  which  they  recite  in  the  evening,  and  they  attend 
chiirch  twice  during  the  day.  Besides  this,  the  discipline  of  the  school, 
12* 


ISII.]  Girard  College.  •   1S3 

rc))rossing  wliat  is  amiss,  and  eiiccmraging  virtue,  acts,  of  course, 
powerfully  ;  the  cxauiple  of  the  elder  boys,  and  llie  oood  order  which 
j)rfvails,  lend  to  produce  regular  liabits.  The  results  of  this  coinl.iined 
moral  cduration  arc  to  be  found  in  the  records  of  the  character  of  the 
pu))ils,  when  they  arc  no  longer  under  the  fostering  care  of  the  insti- 
tution ;  and  the  answers  to  the  queries  before  referred  to,  in  regard  to 
the  coniluct  of  the  young  men,  given  by  the  masters  to  whom  they  are 
ap|U'Miliccd,  and  by  those  with  whom  they  lodge,  exhibit  these  restdls 
in  a  highly  satisfactory  poii^t  of  view."  "There  can  bo  no  doubt  that 
it  is  more  dangerous  to  blunt  the  sensibilities  of  a  youth  to  moral  re- 
proof, than  to  harden  him  by  corporeal  chastisement.  Hence  such 
chastisements  may  be  preferable  in  certain  cases,  where  reproof  has 
failed,  to  a  continuance  of  the  attempt  to  correct  by  admonition.  Tliis 
supposes  it  to  bo  administered  in  private,  without  temper,  and  as  a  last 
resort.  Some  dispositions  are  better  acted  upon  by  the  deprivation  of 
indulgences  by  confinement,  and  similar  penalties  of  this  class,  where 
remonstrances  have  failed  ;  wliile  others  require  something  more  im- 
mediate, in  its  action.  In  many  schools  in  England,  where  the  rod 
was  once  freely  used,  it  has  been  almost,  and  in  others  entirely,  laid 
aside.  In  schools  like  these,  where,  (he  youth  is  entirely  dependent 
U])on  the  institution,  I  am  fully  persuaded  that,  with  proper  treatment, 
it  need  be  resorted  to  very  seldom,  if  at  all.  Few  dispositions  arc  not 
open  10  kindness,  especially  under  these  circumstances,  and  no  master 
lias  the  qualities  apj)ropriatc  to  such  an  institution  who  prefers  the  rc- 
|m!sive  system  to  the  encouraging.  I  refer  to  the  example  of  the  Eng- 
lisli  schools  because  they  have  held  out  longest  against  the  modern 
improvements  in  discipline,  and  their  relinquishment  of  such  means 
is  a  stronger  argument  than  could  be  derived  from  the  more  gentle 
discipline  of  the  continent.  The  spirit  of  kindness  between  master 
and  pupil  which  exists  in  man}-  of  the  continental  schools,  the  conli- 
dcnce  that  renders  him,  as  it  were,  the  head  of  a  family  circle,  are 
delightful  to  witness,  and  insure,  better  than  stripes,  the  obedience  of 
his  pupils.  I  believe  that  this  species  of  discipline,  which  leads  llie 
pnjiii  instead  of  driving  him,  may  be  considered  as  particularly  con- 
i^inial  to  the  American  character."  "  The  dormitories  arc  cleaned, 
iIh'  beds  made,  the  arrangements  for  meals  provided  and  removed,  the 
clothes  are  brushed,  shoes  cleaned,  &.c.,  by  the  servants  of  the  insti- 
tution. These  bo3-s,  brought  up  thus  to  be  waited  upon,  instead  of 
wailing  on  themselves,  must,  when  they  leave  school,  find  their  position 
of  tuicnding  to  the  wants  of  others  particularly  irksome.  Indeed, 
many  of  those  persons  who  receive  them  as  apprentices,  judging  by 
the  awkwardness  with  which  these  and  other  common  aflairs  ot  life 
are  attended  to  by  them,  underrate  exceedingly  the  results  of  their 
education.  This  efl'ect  is  increased  by  their  ignorance  of  ordinary 
Hie.  The  masters  having  no  families,  those  boys  who  never  leave  the 
school  have  no  opportunity  of  wilnessing  any  other  than  the  peculiar 
niui'.uication  of  society  which  the  hospital  aflbrds,  and  even  those  who 
>.o  \i.,iiil,eir  friends,  form  only  such  an  acquaintance  with  life  as  a  few 
wci'ks  in  each  year  can  give.  In  the  only  government  school  of  our 
country,  the  military  academy  at  West  Point,  where  youths  are  re- 


184  Giianl  College.  [April, 

ceivcfl  wliose  parcnls  are  in  nil  tlio  various  circumstances  of  life,  an 
ojiposito  pL-ui  is  pursued  in  re'4;iril  to  the  duties  of  the  house  and  per- 
sonal police  ;  and  I  h:ne  r^ ■ison  to  knoxi',  from  personal  experience 
and  an  extensive  acquaintance  with  its  graduates,  that  the  independent 
habits  thus  produced  arc  retained  by  many  as  among  the  most  conve- 
nient results  of  their  early  trahiing." — Pp.  15-30. 

"  Christ's  IIosi'itai,,  or  Bi.ue-Coat  School," Loxdox. 

"  History  and  builJiiig. — Christ's  Hospital  was  founded  in  15  j'3,  by  j 

King  Edward  the  Sixth,  and  was  opened  in  the  old  monastery  of  Grey  | 

Friars,  which  had  been  ;_fiven  by  Henry  tlie  Eighth  to  the  city  of  Lon-  i 

don,  for  the  use  of  the  jionr.  4 

"The  capital  is  invejlnl  cliii-ny  in  landed  or  funded  property,  the  | 

latter  being  the  most  j.roduclii  e.    The  income  forthc  year  1836,  deduct-  \ 

ing  moneys  paid  for  stocks,  and  passed  to  tlie  building  fund,  amounted  J 

to  the  enormous  sum  of  thir.-  hundred  and  thirty-three  t'nousand  dollars,  | 

by  no  means  all  of  which,  ll0vve^•er,  was  absorbed  by  the  current  ex-  | 

penses,  and  tlicse  are  so  v;\riuu3  in  kind,  that  they  cannot  all  properly  j 

be   charged   against  the   education  and    maintenance    of  the    pupils.  | 

There   arc    between    ihirlei-n   and    fourteen   hundred  children  on  the  | 

charity,  the  average  niainlenance  of  each  of  whom  costs  a  little  over  f 

one  hmidrcd  and  leu  dollars,  and  including  all  expenses,  except  the  | 

management   of  estai<  s,   iVc,  a'.iout  one  hundred  and  ninety  dollars.  | 

The  buildings  of  the  in^liUitlun  at  ]>ondon  have,  in  later  years,  under-  | 

gone  thoroui;li  repairs,  m.  \v   ones    in  a  Gothic  style,  resembling  the  i 

older  ones,  have  bt  en  encti-d,  and  the  assemldage  is  now  one  of  the  3 

most   imposing  to  I)e   found   connected  with  any  similar  establishment  | 

in  the  world."     "  The  granmiar  school  is  divided  into  two  departments,  | 

called  the   upper  and   Iv.ver  schools,  each  containing  three   classes,  3 

those  of  the  lower  school  drsi;:nated  as  the  junior,  middle,  ftnd  upper  ^ 

classes,  and  of  the  upper  school  as  great  Erasmus,   deinit}-  Grecians,  i 

and  Grecians."     "  Tlie  courses  of  instruction  at  this  school  are  more  I 

concentrated    than    in   those   of    Ediidjurgh,  and  include  more  useful  f 

branches.     Both   are   liable  to  the    objection  that  much  time  is  spent  ' 

upon  matters  which  are  not   jiursued   far  enough  to  secure  the  mental  | 

culture  which  woidd  olherwise  resvdl  iVom  them,  and  yet  which  have 
no  bearing  upon  the  future  iu-eup:ilions  of  the  ptipils.  In  reply  to  this 
objection,  it  may  be  said,  that  it  is  impossible  to  discriminate  between 
boys  at  this  early  age,  and  to  discern  who  have  the  aptitude  for  a 
thorough  training  by  langua<res,  or  who  will  make  the  future  Grecians 
of  the  scliool.  That  it  is  dilTicult  may  be  freely  admitted,  but  that  it 
is  impossible  I  do  not  believe.''  '■  My  first  position,  that  it  is  practicable 
so  to  arrange  an  institution  that  superior  talent  shall  receive  full  oppor- 
tunities for  its  cultivation,  without  sacrificing  inferior  talent  by  inappro- 
priate inslniction,  is  fully  borne  out  by  the  experience  of  some  of  the 
orphan  schools  of  Germany  and  Holland,  which  1  shall  hcreal'tcr  de- 
scribe. My  excuse  for  so  often  recurring  to  this  subject,  must  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  this  question  must  be  decided  for  tlie  Girard  College- 
by  its  trustees,  and  I  am  therefore  most  anxious  in  regard  to  it." 
"  The  deputy  Grecians  arc,  during  nearly  half  the  time  spent  in  the 


]h-ll.]  Girard  Collrgc.  185 

I'rnmmar  school,  liniler  the  charge  of  the  head  master,  and  study  tlio 
l'ollo\viii<T  aiitliors  and  books: — In  J.atin,  Virgil's  .Eneiil,  Ovid's  Epis- 
tles, Iloracf,  Select  Orations  of  Cicero,  Terence,  Valpy's  Exercises, 
]"le^,intia  Lat.,  part  second,  Kenvick's  Aliridginfiit  of  Zunipl's  Lalin 
Clraniinar,  Edwards'  Latin  Lyrics  and  Elegiacs,  Latin  and  English 
versiliculion.  Portions  of  Horace  and  Ovid  are  learned  by  heart  and 
ilieim  s  arc  written.  In  Greek,  Scriptores  Gr-teci,  Homer,  Dcmos- 
iliciirs,  Edwards'  Abridgment  of  IMatthioe's  Greek  Grammar,  Hun- 
tiiiLiforil's  Exercises.  Portions  of  Homer  are  committed,  to  memory. 
Ill  IK'lircw,  the  Grammar.  In  English,  Butler's  Geography,  Histo- 
rical (.'atcchism,  English  Poetry  ;  an  English  theme,  and  practice  in 
versification,  alternate  ^vith  the  corresponding  exercises  in  Latin." 
"'J'lio  Grecian.s  pursue  the  studies  necessary  for  admission  to  the  uni- 
versities, and  as  one  of  the  scholarships  belonging  to  the  hospital,  or 
to  Avhich  the  Chr-ist's  Hospital  boys  have  the  preference  at  either 
imivcrsit)',  becomes  vacant,  the  eldest  member  of  the  class  is  pro- 
moted, his  place  being  fdled  from  the  most  promising  of  the  deputy 
Grecians." 

"  Moral  and  religious  insiruclion  and  discipline. — ^We  have  seen  tliat 
the  instruction  in  Cliurch  Catechism  by  the  masters  is  one  part  of  the 
school  duties  ;  the  reading  of  the  liible,  ^^illging  of  psalms,  graces,  &c., 
and  attendance  at  Sunday  worship,  are  other  means  of  religious  in- 
struction, and  are  very  regularly  attended  to.  On  Sunday  a  IJible 
lesson  is  learned,  and  the  boys  are  questioned  upon  it  by  the  monitors, 
and  the  head  master  reads  a  lecture  after  supper.  Every  night  prayers 
are  read  in  the  hall  by  one  of  the  Grecians  and  a  psalm  is  sung,  after 
which  a  ]nonitor  reads  a  short  prayer  in  the  wards  before  the  boys 
retire  to  bed." — Pp.  65-82. 

'  Tlic  notice  of  tlic  London  Blue-Coat  School  terminates  the  first 
chapter.  Wc  have  given  ratlier  copious  extracts  from  llie  accounts 
of  the  Uvu  principal  orphan  houses  of  Great  Britain,  so  that  it  is 
hardly  necessary-  for  us  to  add  any  thing  of  our  own  in  regard  to 
llii-ni.  One  or  two  of  the  incidental  remarks  of  Dr.  Baclie  call  for 
a  moiiienl's  notice.  His  observations  in  regard  to  the  moral  rc- 
litloi)  of  teacher  and  pupil,  confirm  us  in  an  opinion  we  have  long 
entertained,  that,  at  least  in  elementary  schools,  the  teacher,  in 
order  to  acquire  and  preserve  a  proper  moral  control  over  his 
Jiupils,  should  attend  to  their  education  during  play  Jiours,  as  well 
as  during  hours  of  study  and  recitation.  In  order  to  exercise  a  just 
and  kindly  moral  influence  over  the  boy,  the  master  must  become 
f.iinili.ir  with  his  habits,  feelings,  and  dispositions  ;  must  acquire 
liis  reirard  as  well  as  liis  reverence;  and  must  comprehend,  to  a 
leriaia  extent,  all  the  elements  and  peculiarities  of  liis  character. 
Jlow  is  lliis  knowledge  to  be  acquired,  and  this  necessary  degree 


186  Girard  College.  [April, 

of  intimacy  secured  ?  Not  merely  in  the  scliool  room,  for  here, 
even  in  the  freest  and  bcst-conJiieted  schools,  there  must  neces- 
sarily be  a  good  deal  of  restraint;  the  student  is  always  on  his 
guard ;  a  part  of'  liis  character  only  can  be  developed,  as  his  feel- 
ings and  passions  aax  not  allowed  to  play ;  he  is,  as  it  were,  in 
full  uniform  while  engaged  in  the  daily  exercises  of  the  school. 
But  he  must  be  seen  in  undress  to  be  known ;  and  there  is  no 
opportiuiity  for  this  so  good  as  when  he  is  freely  engaged  in  those 
sports  and  pastimes  which  call  out  all  his  fechngs,  and  in  which  he 
exhibits  himself  according  to  his  true  chai-actcr.  And  if  he  find 
that  his  teacher  enters  with  spirit  into  his  amusements,  and  is  inte- 
rested in  them,  he  will  very  soon  acquire  a  confidence  and  freedom 
in  approaching  him,  and  an  afToctionatc  regard  for  his  person,  which 
can  be  acquired  in  no  other  way.  We  do  not  think,  then,  that  Dr. 
Bache  reiterates  the  opinion  loo  often,  that  the  presence  of  a 
teacher  in  the  play  gromid  is  essential  to  the  complete  organization 
of  a  good  school,  and  that  in  all  institutions  of  the  sort  it  is  a  bad 
policy  to  employ  so  few  tcarherslhat  their  lime  must  be  constantly 
taken  up  with  the  duties  of  iiisiruclion. 

In  the  nccomit  of  John  Watson's  Hosjntal  in  Edinburgh,  the 
following  passage  occurs  : — 

"The  uniting  of  the  two  sc.xrs  in  one  establishment  for  etlucation, 
however  favoniMe  it  mny  lif  :ii  an  ciirly  age,  is  afterward  attended  with 
so  many  difilcullies,  i-t^\w.  of  which  are  iiisiu-mountablc,  that  the 
governors  of  this  liosjiitnl  h:ive  ^.aailually  (Hniiiii>ihed  the  numljer  of 
female  pupils,  and  the  luail  inn~tcr  woiihl  nhidly  see  the  establislnuent 
divided  into  two,  neither  thi;  insinu'iiDu  nor  discipline  which  is  suitable 
to  one  sex  answering  for  the  <iihrr." — P.  41. 

The  experiment  of  combining,  in  the  same  institution,  and,  espe- 
cially, under  ib.e  same  roof  schools  for  males  and  females,  has  been 
tried  also  in  this  country,  and,  so  fir  as  our  observation  has  extended, 
the  general  results  have  not  b'cn  fivorablc.  In  the  very  nature 
of  things  there  nnist  be  many  dilhculties  in  conducting  such  an 
institution,  and  the  advantaLres  of  the  union,  plausibly  as  they  have 
been  slated,  arc  not  sufficient  to  counterbalance  its  dangerous  ten- 
dencies, unless  with  a  more  perfect  discipline  than  can  be  main- 
tained under  a  succession  of  masters.  We  arc  aware  that  in  a  few 
instances  in  this  country  such  schools  have  been,  and  still  arc, 
successful ;  but  this  success  has  been  owing,  we  think,  to  the  supe- 
rior qualifications  of  the  individuals  who  have  had  charge  of  them, 


1 S 1 1 .]  Girarcl  College.  1 87 

and  is  not  a  result  of  llie  natural  working  of  the  system.  Our  views 
ou  this  point  have  been  strengthened  by  recent  correspondence  vvitli 
a  gentleman  who  was  long  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  most  flourish- 
ing seminaries  of  this  sort  anywhere  to  be  found, -and  with  others 
who  have  liad  practical  experience  in  such  schools,  both  as  teach- 
ers and  scholars  ;  and  we  cannot  do  less  than  express  our  clear 
opinion  that  the  system  ought  to  be  discouraged.*  Were  this  the 
place,  or  the  time,  we  might  set  forth  more  at  large  the  reasons 
for  this  opinion,  but  we  are  admonished  by  the  space  v,e  liave  al- 
ready occupied  to  proceed  with  a  more  rapid  step. 

TJie  second  chapter  of  pai-t  first  is  taken  irp  with  descriptions  of 
the  principal  orphan  houses  of  German)'-,  and  the  lliird,  with  an 
account  of  those  in  Holland.  These  portions  of  the  work  are  full 
of  valuable  and  interesting  matter,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  give 
our  readers  a  large  exposition  of  their  contents,  but  as  we  wish,  to 
devote  more  space  to  llic  remaining  chaplers,  which  treat  of  edu- 
cation in  general,  we  shall  only  subjoin  a  remark  or  two  in  this 
conned  ion,  suggested  b)"-  Dr.  Bache's  incidental  observations.  The 
hints  of  the  author  on  page  31,  in  the  account  of  Heriot's  Hospital, 
in  regard  to  the  necessity  and  propriety  of  boys  "  waiting  upon 
ihemselves,  instead  of  being  waited  upon  by  others,"  have  been 
quoted  in  a  former  part  of  this  article,  and  have  our  entire  appro- 
bation. No  school  can  be  considered  as  well  organized,  in  which 
it  is  nut  made  a  leading  principle,  that  every  boy  shall  be  his  own 
servant ;  and  in  tliis  country,  of  all  others,  the  advantages  which 
siifli  an  early  training  brings  with  it,  in  habits  of  personal  inde- 
pi'ii'lcnce,  are  so  great  and  obvious,  that  an  institution  adopting  an 
opjjosite  system  hardly  deserves  to  succeed.  But  while  there  can 
be  no  doubt  of  tjic  propriety  of  every  student  in  school  and  college 
lieing  his  own  servant,  we  cannot  speak  favorably  of  a  plan  which 
was  formerly  mucli  in  vogue  in  the  great  universities  of  England, 
Oxford  and  Cambridge,  and  which  has  there  almost  entirely  vanished, 
Init  is  yet  kept  up,  we  believe,  in  some  institutions  in  tliis  country. 
According  to  this  plan,  the  poorer  students  perform  all  menial  offices 

*  We  are  not  yet  prep^ired  to  go  the  vhole  length  on  this  point  with  our  al)lo 
and  much-esteemeJ  correspondent.  After  several  years'  experience,  first  as 
tniMci;  and  subsequently  as  principal  of  an  inslitution  of  this  class,  and  a  partieu- 
l^t  U'-'iuaintance  with  several  others,  though  v>-e  cannot  deny  that  there  arc  dif- 
ficulties in  their  practical  operation  of  a  peculiar  and  delicate  character,  we  can- 
nul  acjuiesce  in  the  conclusion  "  that  the  system  ought  to  be  discouraged." — Ed. 


188  Girard  College.  [April, 

for  the  richer  and  for  llic  insliiutioii,  such  as  cleaning  boots,  carr}-- 
ing  wood  and  water,  riiigiii;^  bells,  v.'aiting  at  table,  &c.  Now  we 
acknowledge  the  difliculiy  of  suiJiiorling  poor  students  in  our  schools 
ajrd  colleges,  but  really  \vc  cannot  liring  our  minds  to  believe  that 
this  degrading  mode  of  relief  (for  such,  as  society  is  organized,  it 
cannot  but  be  considered)  is  not  calculated  to  do  great  harm  to  its 
subjects.  A  man  can  do  all  menial  offices  for  himself,  and  be  inde- 
pendent ;  but  when  he  does  them  for  another,  he  becomes  servile. 
Tlic  poor  student  should  not  be  required  thus  constantly  to  feel  liis 
poverty.  I.ct  us  not  be  misunderstood.  We  have  no  fellowship 
with  that  sickly  delicacy  that  would  shrink  from  honorable  poverty; 
there  is  true  dignity  in  the  character  of  the  young  man  who  is  not 
too  proud  to  avail  himself  of  every  means  of  improvement  and 
assistance  in  order  to  obtain  knowledge  and  to  fit  himself  for  the 
duties  of  life  ;  and  it  is  the  duty  of  tliose  to  whom  Providence  has 
given  the  stewardship  of  wealth  to  open  their  hearts  and  give  of 
their  abundance  to  help  these  worthy  aspirants.  And  to  receive 
the  aid  of  an  education  society,  cither  on  loan  or  by  gift,  is  no 
disgrace.  But  we  mean  to  say  that  as  society  is  constituted  in  this 
country  it  is  not  possible  for  tlie  student  in  college  who  is  the  ser- 
vant of  his  fellows  to  be  their  equal,  as  he  ought  to  be ;  his  self- 
respect  will  daily  diminish,  under  tiie  unceasing  wear  of  his  unfor- 
tunate position  ;  and  not  cvcii  the  consciousness  of  his  own  merits, 
or  the  prospect  of  advanremcnt  before  him,  will  protect  him  from 
its  unhappy  influences. 

The  second  part  of  Dr.  Bache's  work,  which  is  the  largest,  and, 
to  the  general  reader  at  least,  the  most  interesting  portion  of  the 
volimie,  treats  of  the  princip.d  institutions  in  Europe  for  general 
education.  In  regard  lo  the  introduction  of  these  into  his  Report, 
the  author  remarks  : — 

"  My  investigations  would  liavn  licen  incomplete,  had  they  not  in- 
cluded public  schools  in  ^icmrul,  .ind  my  Koport  deficient,  did  it  not 
present  to  the  truslees  suim-  acromit  of  tlic  institutions  for  crcncral 
education  in  those  romilrii  s  of  T'lirnpc  where  it  is  upon  the  best  foot- 
ing. From  these  drseriptions  vaiions  hints  may  bo  gathered,  and 
measures  suggestid.  wliieli  taniio!  fail  lo  br  serviceable  in  the  general 
organization  or  minute  arrangement  of  the  Cirard  C'olleL'e.  If  this 
account  shoidd  rinlher  conlriluile  U)  auakeu  allenlion  in  our  schools  to 
improvements  which  have  In  en  iiitrodnced  aKruad,  I  am  sure  that  the 
trustees  of  the  Girard  College  will  feel  graliliod  at  this  useful  result  of 
their  measures." — Pp.  Ic3,  151. 


1841.]  Giranl  College.  189 

These  remarks  show  the  propriety  of  the  course  which  Dr. 
Bachc  lias  pursued,  even  in  regai-d  to  tlie  Girard  College,  and  we 
arc  glad  that  it  has  fallen  entirely  within  the  range  of  his  proper 
ilulies,  to  give  so  enlarged  and  complete  a  view  of  the  principal 
schools  in  Europe.  The  periods  of  instruction,  for  which  schools 
liavc  been  provided,  give  rise  to  four  distinct  classes,  embracing  ;ijl 
llie  time  from  childhood  up  to  the  period  when  education  must  end, 
and  active  life  commence.  Under  these  four  heads,  therefore,  of 
infant,  primary,  secondary,  and  superior  instruction,  the  author 
unanges  the  various  accounts  of  the  diversified  institutions  which 
lie  visited ;  and  we  shall  now  follow  him  rapidly  through  liis  ex- 
cellent digest  of  the  facts  and  observations  that  he  has  collected. 

The  infant  school  system  has  been  a  fruitful  soiurce  of  discussion 
and  dispute.  On  the  one  hand,  its  invention  has  been  declared  to 
constitute  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  humanity,  and  Jlr.  Wilder- 
spin,  who  certainly  is  entitled  to  the  honor,  if  honor  it  be,  of 
liaving  first  set  forth  clearly  the  present  system,  has  been  lauded 
as  one  of  the  benefactors  of  the  human  race  ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  entire  scheme  lias  been  denounced  as  visionaiy  in  theory 
and  pernicious  in  practice.  Dr.  Bache  seems  to  favor  the  general 
principle  of  the  system,  as  v.-ill  be  seen  from  the  following  ex- 
tracts : — 

"I  am  so  fully  impressed  with  the  importance  of  infant  education, 
that  I  would  not  feci  justilied  in  passing  over  tins  period  without  a  brief 
notice.  The  infant  school  system  CTiibraces  so  much  of  the  philcsophy 
of  education,  has  been  made  so  entirely  an  inductive  branch,  has  been 
poiiih'rcil  over  by  so  many  minds  of  a  superior  order,  that  we  cannot 
fail  to  dfiive  adv;\raarre  from  a  consideration  of  some  of  its  principles 
and  prat-tiral  rcsuUs."  "The  necessity  for  the  existence  of  such 
.srliools  nmst  vary  much  in  diflercnt  countries,  and  hence  their  not 
hc'miz  adopted  in  all,  is  no  argument  against  the  general  principle  of 
infant  education.  The  want  of  such  schools  is  most  felt  in  a  dense 
and  mannl'acturing  population,  least  in  a  scattered  and  agricidtural 
one."— Pp.  l.o7,  foS. 

Now  while  wc  shall  not  pretend  to  say  but  in  dense  and  manu- 
facturing populations  the  infant  school  system  may  be  both  neces- 
sary and  useful,  wc  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  our  regret  that 
it  has  ever  been  introduced  into  this  countr}',  where  such  necessity 
can  liardly  be  said  to  exist.  In  the  crowded  cities  and  towns  of 
I'.urope,  the  question  may  be.  Shall  the  children  be  neglected,  in 
dirl  and  poverty,  or  sent  to   the  infant  school  ?    No  one  would 


190  Girard  College.  [April, 

hesitate  lo  declare  iu  favor  of  wluil  must  be  considered  the  least  of 
the  two  evils  ;  and  therefore  lo  support  the  system  as  a  charitable 
provision  for  destitute  children,  who  have  no  opportunities  of  im- 
provement, and  no  enjoyment  of  comfort  at  their  homes.  But  be- 
cause all  this  may  be  readily  admitted,  it  does  not  follow  that  such 
a  plan  is  necessary  here ;  and  least  of  all,  that  it  is  deserving  of 
encouragement  as  a  general  system,  designed  to  bring  under  its 
influence,  as  some  of  its  enthusiastic  admirers  would  tell  us,  all  the 
infants  in  the  lajid.  Wc  object  to  the  -principle  of  the  system. 
Nature  and  reason  both  cry  out  against  it.  Our  hearts  have  been 
pained  within  us,  at  one  of  these  infant  schools,  where  the  poor 
little  babes,  scarce  able  to  toddle  over  the  floor,  were  undergoing 
training,  manrexivring,  and  discipline,  like  a  military  corps  ;  scream- 
ing b)'  note  and  learning  lo  walk  in  files  and  platoons ;  and  while 
their  little  bodies  were  thus  kopt  iu  constraint,  (for  system  and  rule, 
disguise  them  as  you  will,  vivst  be  constraint  to  the  tender  limbs 
of  infancy,)  their  feeble  minds  were  kept  on  the  stretch  continually, 
by  pictures,  fables,  diagrams,  and  models.  It  may  be  said  that 
tills  school  presented  only  the  bad  forms  of  the  system,  for  the 
results  of  which  it  should  not  ha  held  accountable.  But  no  modi- 
fications can  make  a  bad  thing  good.  A  scheme  which  proposes 
to  take  children  from  their  homes  "  as  soon  as  they  can  walk,"  and 
to  commence  then,  in  a  school,  under  tlie  charge  of  paid  teaclicrs, 
their  moral,  physical,  and  intellectual  culture,  is  in  its  very  essence 
a  violation  of  the  laws  of  nature.  The  infant  should  stay  at  home 
until  he  is  no  longer  an  infant.  Talk  of  training,  by  system,  a  col- 
lection of  childi-en  of  three  years  of  age  !  They  should  grow  up 
in  freedom  of  bod}'  and  mind,  and  the  attempt  to  cram  knowledge 
into  their  little  heads  is  like  every  other  forcing  machine  in  educa- 
tion, dangerous  in  the  c.vtreinc.  Tlic  child  need  not  learn  the 
alphabet  until  four  or  five  years  of  age,  and  if  he  bo  intended  for  a 
studious  life,  the  brain  sliould  not  be  severely  tasked  before  ten  or 
cloven.  The  great  vioral  defect  of  the  system  is  that  it  cuts  off 
domestic  education  entirely  ;  homebred  virtues  are  not  to  be  leai-ned 
at  school.  In  our  remarks  upon  this  subject,  be  it  obsened,  we 
freely  admit  that  where  the  children  have  no  homes,  and  cannot 
enjoy  parental  care,  the  infant  school  is  preferable  to  the  street,  as 
the  least  of  two  evils  ;  Inn,  furlhcr  than  this,  we  believe  the  entire 
system  to  be  foimded  in  error  and  fraught  with  mischief. 


18-11.]  Girard  College.  191 

The  five  following  chapters  contain  a  luminous  view  of  tlic  state 
of  i)riinary  or  elementary  education  in  Great  Britaiii,  France, 
Prussia,  and  Holland  ;  and  these  chapters,  together  with  the  ninth, 
on  seminaries  for  the  preparation  of  teachers  of  primary  schools, 
form  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  valuable  portions  of  the  Report, 
especially  with  regard  to  the  growing  wants  of  our  own  coiuitry. 
Considered  either  as  the  sole  education  of  the  mass  of  the  people, 
eras  preparatory  to  higher  instruction,  primarj' education  is  of  vital 
importance  to  this  republic,  as  all  rational  hopes  for  her  prosperity 
and  permanence  must  be  founded  on  the  broad  basis  of  the  general 
diflusion  of  knowledge  and  religion  among  the  people.  Tlie  least 
democratic  politician  among  us  could  hardly  object  to  the  doctrine 
of  the  infallibility  of  the  sovereign  people  if  the  conservative  influ- 
ences of  a  just  education  were  widely  operative  among  them.  As 
yet,  the  work  is  hardly  begun  among  us,  and  much  that  we  have 
done  has  been  done  ^^Tong.     Dr.  Bache  remarks,  that 

'•  In  our  country  at  large  we  have  been  necessarily  more  occupied 
villi  creating  common  schools,  than  with  elevating  the  standard  of  the 
instruction  given  in  them.  In  the  mean  lime,  education  has  been  ad- 
vancing ;  and  unless  we  v,-ould  be  untrue  to  ourselves  and  to  our 
political  institutions,  we  must  gather  experience  wherever  it  is  to  be 
found,  and  apply  those  practical  results  wliicli  are  best  adapted  to  our 
circumstances." — P.  170. 

We  are  here  furnished  with  a  rich  storehouse  of  practical  obser- 
vations, in  the  proper  use  of  which  we  may  profit  by  the  failures 
of  others,  and  by  adopting  those  mcasm-es  which  experience  has 
sanctioned,  and  ada))1iiig  them  to  our  pccidiar  circumstances,  we 
may  complete  our  own  .systems  without  so  great  risk  of  disappoint- 
ment. It  has  been  mifortunate  for  us,  as  is  observed  by  our  author, 
thai  the  elementary  schools  of  Great  Britain  are  in  general  behind 
those  of  other  countries  with  which  wo  are  less  coimccted.  Indeed, 
it  is  only  of  late  ycai's  that  public  elementary  instruction  has  been 
known  out  of  Scotland,  for, 

"  In  England  the  establishment  of  schools  has  been  loft  to  private 
enterprise  or  charity,  or  religious  zeal  and  liberality,  assisted,  but  not 
"'fiiciently,  by  appropriations  from  parliament.  The  schools  for  the 
instruction  of  the  people  during  week  days  are  still  miserably  deficient, 
liDtb  in  number  and  kind,  and  as  yet  there  appears  no  prospect  of  con- 
cert ol'  <.'(fox\.  to  bring  about  a  better  state  of  general  education.  Tlio 
exonioiis  which  have  produced,  hero  and  there,  endowed  schools, 
schools  of  industry,  schools  for  paupers  or  adults,  though  of  course 


192  Gimrd  College .  [April, 

highly  oommcnilable,  cnn  leuj  lo  no  (rnioral  system  of  national  cJuca- 
tion  ;  anJ  ihe  same  may  bo  icni:n  kid  o(  Sunday  schools,  however  good 
and  nsfl'ii!  in  their  parlieular  way.  hi  no  eountry  in  Enrope,  I  believe, 
is  so  much  benevuiint  i  (lurt  to  be  met  with  as  in  Great  Britain,  and 
coidd  it  be  directed  in  concert,  it  is  cajiablc  of  the  highest  results." — 
P.  174. 

A  sliort  cliaplcr  is  devolcd  to  primary  education  in  France, 
Avliicli  is  now  conducted  under  tlic  law  of  1S33,  and,  though  fast 
advancing,  is  iiol  yet  equal  lo  lliat  of  Holland  and  Prussia.  Much 
improvement  is  c.xjieclcd  from  the  ojx-ralion  of  the  seminaries  for 
teachers,  which  will  introduce  well-])repared  instructors  into  the 
schools,  and,  without  doubt,  will  elevalc  the  character  and  results  of 
the  system  will)  gi-cat  rapidity. 

In  Holland,  we  are  informed  by  our  attlhor  that  the  whole  range 
of  popular  instruction  is  "worthy  of  a  nation  which  has  ever  been 
distinguished  for  il.s  virtue  and  intelligence."  Here  several  import- 
ant experiments  have  been  tried,  among  which  are,  one  in  regard 
to  the  ])ossibility  of  connutmicating  religious  without  sectarian  in- 
struction ;  another,  which  has  resulted  in  demonstrating  the  neces- 
sity of  special  schools  for  teachers ;  and  a  third,  the  results  of 
■which  arc  adverse  lo  the  system  of  nuitual  instruction.  In  regard 
to  the  monitorial  system,  the  general  issue  of  Dr.  Bache's  observa- 
tions is,  lliat  where  a  sufficient  number  of  good  teachers  can  be 
obtained,  the  employment  of  monitors  should  be  avoided ;  and,  on 
the  whole,  this  murh-vauntcd  schmne  has  turned  out  a  splendid 
failure.  It  is  next  to  impossililc  to  accomplish  a  good  education 
in  a  school  where  it  is  adopted  ;  as  even  where  the  monitorial 
instruction  is  confined  to  the  lowest  classes,  the  bad  habits  which 
are  formed,  and  the  mischiefs  v.iiich  result  from  the  indolence, 
unfaithfulness,  and  ignorance  of  monitors,  can  hardly  be  remedied 
by  any  subsequent  exertions  of  the  master. 

"  The  only  approach  to  the  monitorial  system  in  the  schools  of  Hol- 
land is,  that  pupils  wlin  have  an  inclination  to  tcacli,  and  who  will  pro- 
bably become  teachers,  are  put  in  chai  l;i'  of  ihe  lower  classes  of  the 
school.  There  is,  however,  a  very  wide  diU'erence  betw^ecn  the  use 
of  a  few  apprentices  to  the  profession,  and  that  of  a  large  number  of 
monitors  to  give  instruction.  I  had  occasion  lo  observe,  liowever,  that 
in  many  cases  there  was  a  want  of  lifi-  in  the  younger  classes  intrusted 
to  these  inexperienced  teachers.  If  they  are  to  lie  used,  it  woxdd  be 
better  to  employ  them  in  classes  wliieh  liave  some  training,  even  though 
nearer  the  teacher's  age  and  attaiiimcnis."— P.  207. 


ISl].]  Girard  College.  193 

The  stale  of  public  instruction  in  Prussia  lias  been  a  matter  of 
irrcal  intercut,  especially  since  the  publication  of  M.  Cousin's 
\a!'.i:i!i]e  Itrporl,  a  translation  of  which,  by  I^Iiss  Austin,  was  pub- 
hsiK-d  in  A'cw-York,  in  1835.  Tliis  celebrated  Report  seems  lo 
hno  LHvcn  ri.-e  to  an  erroneous  impression,  which  has  become  ex- 
ti-usively  prevalent,  that  the  primarj^  school  system  of  Prussia  is 
of  comparatively  recent  date ;  while  the  fact  is,  as  Dr.  Bache 
stales,  that  instead  of  having  been  molded  into  its  present  form 
within  twenty  years,  its  origin  has  to  be  dated  as  far  back  as  the 
reign  of  the  elector  Joachin  the  Second,  (1540  ;)  and  from  that 
time  to  the  present,  various  modifications  have  been  introduced, 
though  the  entire  system  has  received  a  new  impulse  within  the 
])rcscnt  century.  It  would  be  interesting  to  follow  the  author 
tln-ougli  this  valuable  chapter  of  his  work,  but  our  liiiiits  forbid. 
We  can  only  mention  the  cardinal  provisions  of  the  school  system 
in  Prussia,  which  are  stated  to  be,  first,  that  all  children  between 
the  a^os  of  seven  and  fourteen  years  shall  go  regidarly  to  school; 
second,  that  each  parish  shall,  in  general,  have  an  elementary 
sclioo! ;  third,  that  the  teachers  shall  be  educated  in  seminaries 
adapted  to  the  grade  of  instruction  to  whicli  they  intend  devoting 
themselves,  and  are  subject  to  certain  provisions  for  the  removal  of 
the  incompetent  and  the  support  of  the  superannuated,  with  exemp- 
tion from  mOitarj'  duty,  &c. ;  and,  fourth,  tliat  the  schools  are  a 
branch  of  the  general  government,  and  the  teachers  its  officers, 
which  provision,  while  it  secures  to  the  teachers  the  respect  due  to 
iheir  station,  gives  the  government  entire  control  over  the  education 
of  the  people.     In  regard  to  this  last  point  Dr.  Bache  remarks  : — 

"  It  is  true  tlmt  the  government  has  provided  that  the  incidentals  of 
iiis!riir;iioii,  wliich  exert  so  .strong  an  influence  on  the  mind,  shall  all 
tcml  to  fiJucate  the  people  in  sentiments  of  altachuiont  to  tlic  existing 
order  of  things,  but  they  would  have  been  untrue  to  their  political 
system  liad  tliey  not  done  so,  and  this  fact,  instead  of  leading  to  a 
rejection  of  the  experience  of  their  schools  by  nations  more  advanced 
ill  the  true  principles  of  government,  should  stimulate  them  to  a  like 
care  in  their  systems  of  education."— P.  230. 

Mere  is  indeed  a  pregnant  hint.  Shall  a  despotic  government  in 
llic  heart  of  Europe  understand  and  appreciate  the  power  of  edu- 
cation, and  apply  that  agency  for  the  fixing  of  its  own  principles 
iieeji  in  tlic  hearts  and  minds  of  the  people,  and  our  own  republic 
bo  blind  to  its  truest  interests  ?    We  rejoice  that  the  public  mind. 


194  Girard  College.  [April, 

in  many  of  the  slates,  is  enlightened  upon  this  point ;  and  we  trust 
yet  to  see  the  day  -wlicn  every  stale  in  the  Union  shall  have  a  well- 
digested  system  of  ])ublic  inslruction  in  full  and  useful  operation. 
Two  questions  occur,  in  connection  with  primaiy  instruction,  upon 
whicli  wc  wish  to  oflcr  a  few  remarks,  before  we  pass  to  a  brief 
notice  of  the  remaining  chapters  of  ihc  work. 

The  subject  of  religious  instruction  in  schools  is  one  in  regard  to  | 

which  there  can  be  but  one  opinion  among  religious  men.     The  4 

time  has  come  for  the  clear  and  distinct  assertion  of  the  proposition  i 

that  the  cultiu-e  of  the  licart  shall  accompany  that  of  the  intellect,  3 

in  seminaries  of  every  grade,  from  the  common  school  up  to  the  | 

university.     We  are  not  among  the  number  of  tliose  who  are  Avill-  | 

ing  to  compromise  this  great  question  ;  the  cry  of  sectarianism  has  | 

been  a  bugbear  long  enough ;  and  infidelity  lias  triumphed  long  I 

enough  in  our  Christian  land  in  securing  the  separation  of  religion  j 

and  learning.     With  shame  and  sorrow  have  we  read,  within  a  few  | 

short  months,  in  an  official  document,  emanating  from  the  autho-  f 

rities  of  one  of  our  large  cities,  the  doctrine  that  it  is  no  part  of  the  | 

common  school  system  to  furnish  religious  instruction  !  If  such  is  | 
really  the  case,  and  the  system  cannot  be  mended,  we  should  pray 
most  heai'tily  for  its  destruction.  No  scheme  of  public  instruction 
can  be  permanent,  in  this  Christian  coimtiy,  that  does  not  take 
Christianity  for  its  basis,  and  adopt  the  Bible  as  its  text  book  of 
moral  and  religious  teaching ;  nor  would  sucli  a  scheme  deserve 
to  live.     Oiu:  Christian  legislators,  ^Yho  shrink  from  acknowledging 

the  great  truth  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  government  to  make  pro  | 

vision  for  the  moral  and  imollcctual  education  of  all  the  people,  | 

should  blush  to  find  that  they  stand  upon  a  platform  which  eveiT  J 

public  functionary  in  Germany  or  Holland  would  disdain  to  touch.  I 

In  France,  indeed,  the  norm;d  scliool  at  Paris,  and  the  polytechnic  '] 

scliool,  make  little  or  no  provision  for  the  religious  instructioti  of  | 

their  pupils ;  and  if  the  moral   condition  of  France  is  to  be  the  1 

standard,  such  inslruction  can  be  dispensed  with ;  but  men  have  | 

not  yet  forgotten  the  French  revolution,  and  wc  shall  look  elsewhere  | 

for  our  models.     But  even  from  France  there  comes  a  voice  of  | 

rebuke   for  the   strange  error  of  ihose   among  us  who  deny  that  I 

religion  is  a  part  of  education.    Listen  to  M.  Cousin,  the  far-sighted  1 

minister  of  public  instruction,  and  perhaps  the  greatest  philosopher  | 

of  the  ace : —  I 


1841.]  Girard  College.  195  \ 

"  Tlicre  is  no  class  in  the  Prussian  gjnnnasium  wliich  has  not  a  ! 

course  of  rili;;ioiis  instruction,  as  it  has  of  classical  or  of  mathematical  4 

instruction.     1  have  before  said,  and  now  repeat,  that  worship,  with  | 

its  cerriiuiiii''s,  can  never  be  sufficient  for  young  men  who  reflect,  and  ,: 

wlio  are  iiiiln.cd  with  the  spirit  of  the  times.     A  Hue  religious  instnic-  | 

lion  is  iiidisjieiisable,  and  no  subject  is  better  adapted  to  a  regular,  full,  I 

and  vari(td   instruction  than   Christianity,  with  a  history  which  goes  I 

back  to  the  beginning  of  the  world,  and. is  connected  with  all  the  great  \ 

events  in  that  of  the  human  race  ;  with  its  dogmas,  which  breathe  a  | 

suliliiiie  metaphysics  ;  with  its  morality,  which  combines  severity  with  \ 

indulgence  ;  and  with  its  general  literary  monuments,  from  Genesis  to  | 

the  universal  history."  | 

With  these  opinions  of  Cousin,  Dr.  Bache  expresses  liis  entire  I 

concurrence,  and  repeats,  in  various  places  in  his  work,  the  great  ^ 

truth,  that  tlic  separation  of  religious  from  literary  and  sciciilific  | 

instruction  must  liave  a  destructive  tendency  ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  | 

his  observations  clearl}''  show  the  uniformly  happy  influence  of  this  1 

connection,  in  tliose  schools  where  it  is  adopted.     Wc  shall  offer  1 

no  argumenls,  then,  to  prove  tJiat  religion  is,  and  of  right  ought  to  j 

be,  an  essential  part  of  education ;  nothing  but  an  unaccountable  > 

moral  blindness  could  have  caused  us  to  forget  that  it  is  not  only  a  | 

pari,  but  by  far  tlie  most  important  part  of  all  education,  to  which  | 

tiie  training  of  the  mind,  and  tlie  strengthening  of  the  body,  shoidd  I 

be  subordinate  and  subservient.     In  the  language  of  Richard  Wat-  j 

son,  "  to  open  the  mind  to  human  science,  to  awaken  the  pleasures  • 

of  taste,  and  to  decorate  the  external  man  with  the  adornings  of  civil  | 

and  refined  life,  might  be  sufficient  to  occupy  the  office  of  educa-  | 

lion,  were  there  no  God,  no  Saviour,  and  no  futm-c  being.     Were  j 

this  life  not  a  state  of  probation,  had  man  no  peace  to  make  with  I 

his  (Jod,  no  law  of  his  to  obey,  no  pardon  to  solicit  from  his  mere)'-,  | 

ihcn  this  would  be  education;  but  most  afl'ectingly  deficient  will  | 

the  knowledge  of  that  youth  be  found,  and  negligent  in  the  highest  | 
degree  must  they  be  considered  who  have  the  charge  of  his  early 
years,  if  his  mind  be  left  unoccupied  by  other  objects,  and  unfa- 
nnliarized  to  liigher  considerations." 

Let  us  glance  now,  for  a  moment,  at  the  practical  problem  in- 
volved in  this  question — a  problem  of  no  slight  difficulty  and  delicacy. 
How  can  religious  instruction  be  given  in  the  schools  of  the  Unilcd 
Slates,  where  no  form  of  religion  is  cslabhshed  by  law,  and  where 
there  :ire  so  many  sects,  with  endless  varieties  of  rehgious  opinion? 
lu  answer  to  this  great  question,  three  schemes  have  been  proposed ; 


196  Giranl  CoHrge.  [April, 

one,  tliat  eacli  denomination  of  Cln-islians  shall  have  a  portion  of 
the  scliool  fund,  and  be  required  to  appropriate  it  to  the  purposes 
of  inslraction  agrecabl)'  to  provisions  of  law,  having  the  privilege, 
at  the  same  time,  of  instructing  the  children  in  its  own  peculiar 
views  of  religion ;  another,  that  the  ministers  of  the  difTerent  sects 
communicate  religious  instruction  in  the  schools,  at  different  speci- 
fied times,  the  children  attending  sucli  of  these  as  their  parents  may 
direct ;  and  a  third,  that  religious  instruction  shall  be  conveyed  in 
all  the  schools,  without  sectarianism.     The  first  plan  proposes  to 

divide  the   school  fund  among  the  different  sects.     The  Roman  i 

Catholic  Church  in  the  city  of  New-York  has  already  applied  for  | 

a  portion  of  the  funds  ajipropriated  by  the  state,  to  be  disbmsed  j 

for  the  support  of  schools,  under  the  exclusive  direction  and  control  \ 

of  that  church.     We  most  heartily  approve  of  the  principle  avowed  j 

as  the  basis  of  this  application — the  principle,  namely,  that  religious  | 

instruction  might  to  be  conveyed  in  primary  schools  ;  but  its  inexpe-  J 

diency  is  abundantly  obvious.     Such  a  request  coidd  not  be  granted  | 

unless  the  general  scheme  of  distribution  tliat  we  are  now  discuss-  j 

ing  were  adopted  by  the  stale  ;  and  that  sclicme  would,  in  practice,  | 

be  fraught  with  iinnmicrable  evils,  if,  indeed,  it  would  not  effectually  I 

paralyze  the  whole  system,  by  frittering  away  the   entire  school  | 

fluid,  without  at  all  accomplishing  its  great  objects.    The  complexity  j 

and  unwiekliness  that  would  necessarily  characterize  such  a  system  | 

may  easil)' be  imagined.     Tlic  second  of  these  plans  proposes  tliat      ■  J 

the  doctrines  of  religion  shall  be  taught  in  the  schools,  by  ministers  | 

of  the  different  sects,  at  stated  times.     This  method  is  adopted  in  j 

some  of  the  schools  of  Holland  and  Pnissia,  and  seems  there  to  | 

■work  satisfactorily.     But  in  tliis  country  it  would  be  attended  with  \ 

many  difficulties,  perhaps  the  foremost  of  which  would  be  the  end-  i 

less  multiplicity  of  sects,   cacli  one  of  which,  even  the  smallest,  j 

would  of  course  desire  to  have  its  share  in  the  business  of  instnic-  I 

lion.     This  obstacle,  alone,  would  be  almost  insurmountable.     The  ] 

plan  of  giving  reliirious,  but  not  sectarian,  instruction  in  the  schools,  j 

remains  to  be  considered.     It  is  in  our  opinion  the  least  exception-  | 

able  of  the  three  tliat  have  been  alluded  to,  and,  in  fact,  it  is  tlic  | 

only  plan  that  is  feasible  in  this  countiy.     The  following  remarks  I 

of  Dr.  Bache  are  in  point : —  | 

"  There  is  iinhoundod  toleration  of  roHgious  creed  in  Holland,  and  1 

while  the  necessity  of  religious  instruction  in  the  schools  has  been  i 


IS  11.]  Girard  College.  197 

stronj,'ly  foil,  it  has  been  made  to  stop  short  at  the  point  at  which,  be- 

comin<;  doclriiial,  the  subjects  taught  coukl  interfere  with  the  views  of  'i 

any  sect.     Dible   stories  arc  made  the  means  of  moral  and  rclij^ious  | 

leaeliiiig  in  tlic  school,  and  doctrinal  instruction  is  conveyed  by  the  | 

pastors   of  the  difierent   churches  on  days  appointed  for  the  purposo,  | 

and  usually  not  in  the  school  room."     "  The  results  of  the  moral  and  i 

religious   instruction  communicated    in  and  out  of  school,    arc   fully  1 

shoxsn  in  the  character  of  the  people  of  Holland,  and  these  must  be  ' 

deemed  satisfactory.     Sectarian  iustniction  is  carefully  kept  out  of  the  j 

schools,  while  the  historical  parts  of  the   Bible  and  its   moral  lessons  5 

an.'  fully  dwelt  upon.     There  are  various  collections  of  Bible  stories  j 

for  this  pur])ose,  which  are  commented  on  by  the  teacher,  and  all  the  i 

incidental  instruction,  so  important  to  a  school,  has  the  same  tendency."  1 

—Pp.  20G,  214.  f 

The  range  of  sitbjccts  tliat  could  legitimately  fall  witliin  tlie  | 

scope  of  "religious,  but  not  sectarian"  instrttction,  is  wider  tliaa  | 

might  be  supposed  at  first  sight.     That  there  is  a  God — that  lie  is  I 

onniiprcscnt,  all  wise,  good,  merciful,  and  just — that  he  requires  of  | 

man  tiie  pcrformaiicfi  of  certain  duties,  and  affords  him  the  means  | 

of  jmrformiiig  tliem — tliat  God  lias  revealed  iiimself  by  his  Sou —  I 

lliat  tliis  life  is  a  state  of  probation  and  discipline — these  truths  are  | 

acknowledged  by  all  Clirislian  men,  and  form  no  small  portion  of  | 

the  belief  of  every  sect.  ■   Surely  there  is  nothing  in  these  iiniver-  | 

sally  received  and  fiuidamcntal  doctrines  that  could  fix  the  imputa-  j 

lion  of  sectarianism,  witli  any  show  of  propriety,  upon  the  system  | 

that  might  autliorize  and  require  them  to  be  taught.      From  infidels  | 

alone  could  opposition  be  expected.     But  such  opposition  is  hardly  I 

worth  a  moment's  consideration,  as  it  would  be  absurd  in  the  ex-  | 

Iremc  to  allow  the  wishes  of  a  single  sect — the  sect  of  unbelievers  | 

— to  outweigh  the  views  and  desires  of  all  other  sects  united.    May  3 

we  not  indulge  the  hope  that  Christian  America  will  yet  meet  this  | 

great  question  fairly  and   fully ;  that  the  youthful  minds  of  our  | 

coiMitry  shall  not  be  left,  in  total  ignorance  of  divine  things,  a  prey  ' 
to  all  filse  opinions  and  evil  lusts  ;  and  that  the  day  shall  yet  come, 
when  the  schoolmasters  of  our  country,  who  are  steadily  and  surely 
molding  the  future  character  of  the  nation,  shall  be  deeply  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  religion  themselves,  and  be  not  only  allowed,  but 
required  to  use  every  means  for  infusing  that  spirit  into  the  hearts 
of  ilteir  pupils  !  We  arc  almcst  ashamed  to  liave  touched  this- 
subject  so  briefly  and  imperfectly,  but  the  occasion  demanded 
a  p.tsfing  notice,   and  we    can  afford  no  more.     Hereafter,   if 

Vol.  1,-1.3 


198  Giranl  College.  [April. 

opportunity  sen'e,  we  hope  to  make  it  tlic  subject  of  a  separate 
article. 

Dr.  Bachc  devotes  an  entire  chapter  to  accounts  of  seminaries 
for  the  education  of  teachers  for  llie  primary  schools.  He  tells  us 
that  institutions  of  this  class  originated  in  Germany,  but  have  been 
established  also  in  France  and  Holland,  and  recently  in  England, 
with  such  modifications  as  were  required  by  the  diflerent  circum- 
stances of  the  several  countries.  The  advantages  of  regular  semi- 
naries for  teachers  are  tlms  set  forth  : — 

"  When  education  is  to  be  r;ipi(lly  advance  J,  seminaries  for  teachers 
afford  the  means  of  scciirinrjthi.s  result.  An  eminent  teacher  is  selected 
as  director  of  the  seminary,  and  by  the  aid  of  competent  assistants, 
and  while  benefiting  the  ri)minuniiy  by  the  instruction  given  in  the 
schools  attached  to  the  seminary,  trains,  yearl)'-,  from  thirty  to  forty 
youths  in  the  enlightened  jiractiee  of  his  methods  ;  these  in  their  turn 
become  teachers  of  schools,  which  they  arc  fit  at  once  to  conduct 
■without  the  failures  and  niist:il:c.-:  usual  with  novices  ;  for,  though  be- 
ginners in  natne,  tliry  1i;im-  aci]uired,  in  the  course  of  the  two  or  three 
years  spent  at  tlic  Biiir.naiy,  an  rxpcricnce  equivalent  to  many  years 
of  unguided  eflbrt.  These  seuiiuaries  produce  a  strong  esprit  dc  corps 
among  teachers,  which  tends  powerfully  to  interest  them  in  their  pro- 
fession, to  attach  them  to  it,  to  elevate  it  in  their  eyes,  and  to  stimulate 
them  to  improve  constantly  upon  the  attainments  with  which  they  may 
have  conuucnccd  it.s  exercise.  By  their  aid  a  standard  of  examination 
in  the  theoiy  and  practice  of  instruction  is  aflbrded,  which  may  be 
fairly  exacted  of  candidates  who  have  chosen  a  diflerent  way  to  obtain 
access  to  the  profession." — P.  320. 

This  subject  is  one  to  wliich  the  attention  of  tlie  American  peo- 
ple cannot  be  too  strongly  drawn.  It  is  time  that  our  apathy  in 
regard  to  it  were  dissipated.  Strange,  that  it  should  ever  have 
existed ;  tliat  men  who  are  so  clearsighted  in  all  t)ie  ordinary  piur- 
suits  of  life,  slioiild  be  so  blind  in  regard  to  the  most  important  of 
human  avocations,  next  to  the  ]n-caching  of  the  gospel !  Tlie  tailor 
that  mends  our  clothes  mtist  serve  a  reg-ular  apprenticeship  to  his 
trade  ;  we  do  not  trust  our  kettle  to  be  mended  by  a  tinker  that  has 
not  been  trained  to  his  business  ;  but  any  man  can  teach  our  chil- 
dren !  Such  seems  to  have  been  the  doctrine  of  the  people  of  litis 
country,  as  of  almost  all  otlicrs,  until  Germany  set  the  example  of 
educating  teachers  ;  it  remains  for  us  to  follow  tliat  example.  The 
common  school  system  may  be  adopted  in  every  state  in  the  Union, 
but  until  the  tcaeliers  are  prepared  for  their  work  b}'  a  suitable 
trainuig,  tlic  system  must  continue  to  be  feeble  in  its  operations  and 
13* 


IS  11.]  Girard  College.  199 

doubtful  as  to  its  results.  The  lamentable  deficiency  of  qualified 
teachers,  tiiroughout  the  land,  must  have  been  marked  by  the  least 
observant  eye.  Even  in  New-England,  the  pride  and  boast  of  oiu 
country  in  regard  to  common  school  education,  too  many  of  the 
teachers  of  primary  schools  are  entire!)'-  unfit  for  their  business  ; 
and  in  some  of  the  other  states  of  the  Union,  the  schoolmaster  is 
often  a  jioor  unworthy  object — a  broken  down  inebriate  or  a  wan- 
dering adventurer.  In  order,  then,  to  furnish  an  adequate  supply 
of  good  teachers,  we  must  have  normal  schools.  But  there  is 
another,  and  perhaps  a  stronger  reason  why  our  teachers  should 
receive  a  professional  education.  The  character  of  the  profession 
must  be  elevated.  The  teacher  should  rank  witli  the  lawyer  and 
the  jihysician,  in  the  estimation  of  the  pulilic  ;  and  this  object,  de- 
sirable as  all  acknowledge  it  to  be,  camiot  be  attained,  wc  think, 
without  requiring  a  certain  degree  of  preparation  for  his  work.  If 
tlic  rank  of  the  schoolmaster  were  what  it  ought  to  be,  one  of  the 
strongest  objections  to  normal  schools — that  after  the  young  men 
are  educated  the)^  will  not  teach — will  be  done  away.  In  all  the 
discussions  of  this  subject  that  have  come  under  om-  notice,  this 
objection  has  been  presented  as  an  insuperable  barrier  to  the  es- 
tablishment of  schools  for  the  education  of  teachers  among  us  ;  but 
we  cannot  allow  it  the  weight  and  importance  that  are  claimed  for 
it.  Grant  that  7ioic,  young  men,  who  can  be  otherwise  profitablj' 
employed,  will  not  teach,  we  nray  ask  why  this  is  tlie  case  ?  And 
the  answer  must  be,  simply.  Because  the  rank,  pay,  and  character 
of  the  schoolmaster  are  not  what  they  ought  to  be.  But  we  hope 
in  due  time  to  viahe  them  what  they  ought  to  be  :  and  this  very 
steji  of  establishing  normal  schools  is  to  be  one  gi'cat  agent  in  the 
accdinjilishment  of  the  work.  And,  besides,  what  does  the  objection 
i;jilily,  but  that  those  who  teach  now,  arc  fit  for  nothing  else,  and, 
for  that  reason  alone,  occupy  one  of  the  most  important  posts  in 
the  repuljlic  !  But  wc  cannot  discuss  this  subject  here.  We  hope 
that  a  general  awakening  of  public  opinion,  before  long,  may  re- 
quire us  to  give  it  a  minute  and  extended  examination.  Mean- 
while, those  who  wish  for  information  in  regard  to  the  utility  of 
llicsc  schools,  and  the  best  modes  of  establishing  and  conducting 
thorn,  will  find  in  Dr.  Bache's  chapter  upon  the  subject  full  and 
detailed  accounts  of  the  best  seminaries  for  primary  teachers  in 
I'russia,  Holland,  France,  and  Switzerland. 


200  Giranl  College.  [April, 

The  next  head  of  Dr.  Bachc's  Report  is  that  of  sccondarjr  in- 
struction, which  occupies  tlie  place  between  elementary  and  supe- 
rior instruction.  Its  distinctive  objects  are  well  explained  by  the 
author : — 

"It  foUim-s  the  attniiininnls  wliicli  arc  essential  to  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  and  prccL'di's  the  special  studies  which  bear  more  or  less 
upon  iho  occupation  of  llio  individual  in  future  life.  It  occupies  the 
period  from  eight  or  ten  years  of  age  to  seventeen  or  nineteen,  as  the 
ordinary  average  limits.  Viewed  in  its  most  enlarged  sense,  this  in- 
struction prepares  for  any  kiud  of  special  studies  for  which  matured 
intelligence  is  necessary,  for  the  higher  occupations  of  the  useful  arts, 
as  well  as  for  the  harued  iirofessious.  It  is  no  objection  to  this  view 
that  in  some  countrii's  lliere  are  no  public  scliools  for  the  arts,  since 
there  are  also  some  of  the  learned  professions  in  certain  countries 
which  have  no  public  scbimls  set  npart  for  them,  but  which  are,  never- 
theless, avowedly  in  tlu'  triiiit  rank,  and  which  require,  as  an  hitro- 
duction  to  tlicir  study,  u  ihureuuh  secundury  training.  This  view  gives 
rise  to  a  two-fold  divisiun  of  tlie  subject :  first,  secondary  instruction 
as  preparatory  to  the  professions  usually  designated  as  learned  ;  second, 
as  preparing  fur  the  biiiher  practical  occupations,  which  are  rising 
rapidly  into,  or  b:ivc  lalen  iheir  ]dace  in,  the  same  rank  with  the  pro- 
fession--. Tlie  first  kind  (if  secondary  instruction  is  to  be  met  with,  as 
a  natioiKil  system,  in  mnsi  counlvies  of  Europe,  while  in  others  it  is 
supplied  by  indnuliial  enterprise,  and  by  independent  foundations  or 
corporations.  The  institutions  which  supply  this  instruction,  in  a 
more  or  less  perfect  form,  are  designated  by  various  names.  The 
class  is  composed  of  the  academies  and  grammar  schools,  some  of  the 
colleges,  the  proprietary  and  certain  other  schools  of  England ;  the 
colleges,  royal  and  cominunal  institutions,  and  boarding  schools  of 
France  ;  the  I.,atin  schools  and  others  of  Holland  ;  the  colleges,  audi- 
tories, and  g^-innasia  of  .'sv.  iizerland  ;  the  colleges  of  Italy,  and  the 
gj'mnasia  of  the  Gerin;iii  stales.". — P.  362. 

Under  this  head,  then,  is  embraced  what  we  commonly  call  in 
this  country  academical  education.  We  believe  that  we  are  tole- 
rably well  furnislicd  with  institutions  of  this  grade,  private  and  pub- 
lic ;  and  some  of  tlicm  arc  of  vcr)-  respectable  character;  but,  on 
the  whole,  they  arc  vcrj'  far  behind  those  of  the  same  class  in 
Europe.  Indeed,  the  gymnasia  of  the  German  states  come  nearly, 
if  not  quite,  up  to  the  general  standard  of  our  colleges,  in  the 
amount  and  excellence  of  the  instruction  which  they  aflbrd ;  and 
in  some  respects  they  go  far  beyond  it.  Dr.  Bache  treats  the  sub- 
ject in  three  chapters ;  the  first  comprising  accounts  of  various 
academies  and  liigh  schools  in  Great  Britain  ;  the  second  relatuig 
lo  secondary  instruction  in  France ;  and  the  third  (perhaps  the 


ISll.]  Girard  College.  201 

most  valiiablo  of  flic  tlirec)  giving  an  account  of  the  gymnasia  of 
Prussia  and  Germany,  with  general  remarks,  and  comparisons  of 
tlic  secondary'  instruction  of  different  countries.  These  chapters 
are  pregnant  with  practical  wisdom.  We  cannot  too  strongly  re- 
ronuncnd  their  careful  perusal  to  every  teacher  in  this  country  who 
can  liavc  access  to  them.  But  we  must  leave  them  with  the  general 
remark,  that  Dr.  Bache's  observations  show  the  same  superiority, 
in  point  of  scientific  teaching,  of  Germany  over  England,  in  this 
department  of  instruction  as  in  tliat  of  primary  education.  Perhaps 
the  sciiools  of  Edinburgh  are  an  exception  to  this  remark.  In  the 
gi'cat  schools  of  England,  Eton,  Harrow,  Rugby,  and  others  of  the 
same  class,  there  is,  beyond  all  question,  an  undue  attention  paid 
to  classical  studies,  to  the  neglect  of  other  means  of  mental  culti- 
vation. "  If  no  literature  existed  beyond  that  of  Greece  and  Rome ; 
if  no  discoveries  in  mathematics  or  physics,  in  art  or  nature  ;  if  no 
nations  had,  by  the  advance  of  civilization,  come  into  greater  rela- 
tive importance  than  in  the  days  of  Rome's  prosperity,  the  course 
of  Harrow  might  be  well  adapted  to  train  up  British  youths  of  the 
provinces  in  tlie  learning  of  the  capital.  As  it  is,  the  exclusion  of 
all,  or  nearly  all,  that  characterizes  modern  civilization,  brings  dis- 
credit upon  tlie  system,  and  the  worst  foes  of  the  legitimate  use  of 
classical  culture  are  those  who  profess  to  be  its  best  friends."  At 
Rugby  the  case  is  rather  better,  as  some  modern  improvements 
have  been  introduced  into  its  course  of  studies ;  and  it  is  found 
that  the  piipils  lose  nothing,  even  on  the  score  of  classical  iii- 
.^truction,  by  learning  a  little  of  something  else  besides  Greek  and 
Latin. 

In  regard  to  the  study  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages,  the 
will  of  the  fo\mdcr  of  the  Girard  College  speaks  with  a  becoming 
modesty.  Knowing  that  he  could  not  judge  properly  of  the  value 
of  studies  which  he  had  never  pursued,  and  of  learning  which  was 
scaled  to  him,  I\Ir.  Girard  evinced  his  usual  sagacity  in  alluding  to  | 

ihcm.     "  I  do  not  recommend,  but  I  do  not  forbid,  instruction  in  | 

Greek  and  Latin,"  were  his  words  upon  this  point,  and  they  leave  | 

the  whole  matter  ig  the  charge  of  the  trustees.  We  looked  into 
JJr.  Bache's   Report  with   some  anxiety  for  an  exposition  of  liis  j 

views  upon  this  subject ;  and  we  are  happy  to  say,  that  in  general,  j 

lliey  meet  with  our  full  concurrence.     His  opinions  in  regard  to  j 

tlie   utility  of  classical  instruction  are  founded  upon  the  following  j 


202  Girard  College.  [April, 

principles  :  first,  that  superior  talent  should  receive  full  oppor- 
tunities for  its  cultivation,  without  sacrificing  inferior  talent  by  in- 
appropriate instruction  ;  and,  secondly,  that  pupils  who  are  intended 
for  a  mechanical  trade  or  employment  should  receive  instruction 
bearing  upon  their  future  occu[>ation.  The  result  of  the  applica- 
tion of  these  principles  would  lie  that  the  study  of  the  ancient  lan- 
guages would  be  pursued  much  furtiier  than  they  now  are,  by  those 
who  liave  the  aptitude  and  time  which  ai-c  necessary  for  their  suc- 
cessful prosecution ;  while  those  who  are  deficient  in  talent,  or 
cannot  possibly  devote  time  to  acquire  any  thing  like  proficiency  in 
ihc  languages,  shoidd  not  be  required  to  waste  their  youth  in  an 
idle  attempt  to  do  v.-hal  cannot  be  done.  There  is  much  sound 
truth  in  these  sentiments.  Certain  it  is  that  in  most  of  om-  schools 
the  languages  are  pursued  too  far  for  general  purposes,  and  not  far 
enough  to  secure  the  great  ends  of  mental  cultivation  and  sound 
scholarship.  ^^  e  do  not  know  of  a  school  or  college  in  tlicse 
United  Stales  \\liere  the  ancient  languages  are  thoroughly  and 
successfully  tauglil.  l^clicving,  as  wc  most  conscientiouslj'  do, 
that  a  complete  discijjliiic  in  these  studies  is  the  most  valuable 
training  to  which  the  youthful  mind  can  be  subjected,  and  that  the 
intrinsic  importance  of  classical  attainments  can  never  be  overvalued, 
we  arc  earnestly  desirous  tiiat  this  branch  of  education  should  have 
fair  play  in  this  couiUr)%  so  tlial  an  American  scholar  may  not 
hereafter  be  so  rare  a  curiosity  as  he  is  at  present.  The  general 
adoption  of  Dr.  Bache's  philosophical  views  would  go  far,  we 
think,  toward  the  accomplishment  of  this  desirable  result.  It  is 
not  by  forcing  every  student,  willing  or  unwilling,  to  go  through  a 
certain  prescribed  amount  of  study,  reading  so  many  pages  of 
Herodotus,  and  so  many  verses  of  Homer,  that  we  are  to  elevate 
the  standard  of  classical  attainment  among  us  ;  but  by  a  judicious 
allotment  of  studies,  accordir.g  to  the  talents  and  destination  of  the 
pupils,  and  by  a  more  extended  course  of  instruction  in  the  classics 
for  those  who  wish  it  and  are  ca])able  of  ma.stering  it.  Of  course 
the  classical  basis  should  be  retained  in  all  schools  and  colleges,  as 
the  vcr)-  best  foundation  for  general  education^ 

Tiic  thirteenth,  and  closing  chapter  of  Dr.  Dache's  Report,  is 
devoted  to  the  suliject  of  sujierior  education.  With  this  the  career 
of  the  student  is  terminated,  as  under  this  head  arc  embraced  tlie 
schools  which  qualify  for  tlie   learned  professions  and  for  occupa- 


1  SI  1 .]  Girard  College  203 

lions  requiring  a  considerable  amount  of  special  knowledge  for 
tlicir  successful  prosecution,  as  well  as  those  which,  like  the  Eng- 
jisli  universities,  are  intended  to  perpetuate  a  learned  class,  by- 
giving  the  highest  grade  of  intellectual  culture  necessary  to  foftn 
liic  man  of  science  or  of  letters.  It  did  not  fall  properly  within  the 
scope  of  President  Bache's  design  to  give  a  description  of  the 
foreign  universities,  as  the  following  extract  explains  : — 

"  .Schools  of  arts,  or  polytechnic  schools,  have  originated  in  the 
rrquiromcnts  of  modern  times,  in  which  occupations  have  risen  in 
Bliindiiig  and  importance,  or  have  been  actually  created  by  the  pro- 
gress of  science  and  the  arts.  Considered  as  special  schools,  the 
universities  have  very  diflercnt  objects  from  those  which  the  founder 
of  tlie  Girard  College  intended  as  the  aim  of  his  institution,  while  the 
purposes  of  the  poljtechnic  schools  are  strictly  in  accordance  with 
those  which  his  will  points  out  for  the  highest  department  of  his  col- 
lege. This  being  the  case,  a  description  of  foreign  universities  would, 
1  conceive,  bo  out  of  place  in  this  Report.  From  the  character  of  my 
associations  before  leaving  home,  which  naturally  led  to  similar  asso- 
ciatiuns  while  abroad,  I  felt  highly  interested  in  this  class  of  instilu- 
tiDUs,  and  it  is  with  reluctance  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  not  to 
give  some  description  of  them  in  my  Report." — P.  537. 

While  we  cannot  but  approve  the  close  adherence  of  Dr.  Bache, 
on  all  occasions,  to  his  proper  course  as  agent  for  the  Girard  Col- 
lege, we  must  regret  its  results  in  this  particular  case,  and  the 
more,  because  the  few  remarks  which  he  has  di-opped  in  regard  to 
English  university  education  show  how  well  he  was  qualified  to 
nLikc  a  full  investigation  of  the  whole  subject.  One  of  these  re- 
marks has  reference  to  the  system  of  WTitten  examinations  which 
is  jmrsucd  at  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and  which  is  there  held 
ill  high  estimation.  By  this  method,  each  member  of  the  class  to 
be  examined,  instead  of  being  questioned  viua  voce,  is  furnished,  at 
the  hour  appointed  for  examination,  with  a  set  of  written  or  printed 
questions,  of  the  nature  of  which  all  were  alike  ignorant  before. 
'I'o  tiicse  questions  each  student  is  required  to  produce  written 
answers,  upon  the  spot,  in  a  given  time,  say  four  or  five  hours, 
without  access  to  books  or  assistance  of  any  kind.  This  method 
certainly  has  the  merit  of  entire  impartiality,  as  precisely  the  same 
questions  are  presented  to  all  the  students  :  so  tliat  even  the  "  sus- 
pici.m  of  partiality  in  the  distribution  of  important  places"  is  cn- 
i!"  ly  avoided.  It  obviates,  also,  to  a  great  extent,  the  embarrass- 
inciu  into  which  sensitive  students  are  often  thrown  by  the  excitement 


204  Girard  College.  [April, 

of  a  public  cxamiiKilion.  We  sipcali.  -wilh  ihc  more  confidence  of 
the  utiiily  and  superiority  of  lliis  nictliod,  because  we  have  had  tlie 
opportunity  of  observing  its  results  in  Dickinson  College,  wlicrc 
the  examinations,  in  some  of  the  dcpajtments,  for  the  Bachelor's 
degree,  liave  l)ocn  conducted  entirely  in  \vriting  for  some  years 
past.  Six  liours  will  sufilcc  for  an  extended  examination  upon  a 
single  subject  by  tliis  mctliod,  which  is  the  more  thorough,  as  each 
student  is  under  the  process  during  all  the  time,  and  not  merely  for 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  as  under  the  \iva  voce  system. 

Omitting  any  extended  notice  of  the  foreign  universities,  for  the 
reasons  above  stated,  ourauthor  gives  accounts,  more  or  less  copious, 
of  the  Polytechnic  school  of  France,  the  schools  of  Roads,  Bridges, 
and  Jlines  in  Inuice,  the  schools  of  arts  in  Prussia,  the  Polj'technic 
Institute  of  Vienna,  the  school  of  Mines  at  Freybcrg,  the  Institute 
of  Agiicultiire  at  llohenhcim,  and  the  naval  school  of  Austria,  at 
Venice.  It  is  not  in  our  power  to  do  more  than  to  refer  to  this 
part  of  the  Report,  with  the  remark  that  it  is  written  with  the 
same  methodical  clearness  that  characterizes  the  other  divisions  of 
the  work. 

We  have  thus  given  a  meagre  and  imperfect  sketch  of  one  of 
the  most  im])ortant  works  that  has  ever  issued  from  the  American 
press,  a  work  that  must  ever  be  a  monument  of  the  ability  and 
industrj-  of  its  author.  It  is  niuch  to  be  regretted  that  the  manner 
of  its  publication  will  prevent  its  general  circulation.  We  could 
wish  our  legislators  to  read  this  book,  and  inform  themselves  upon 
the  subject  of  popular  education,  of  which  too  many  of  them  have 
entirely  unworthy  and  inadequate  notions.  Our  teachers  should 
have  access  to  this  repository  of  principles  and  facts  belonging  to 
their  science  ;  its  records  of  experience  and  lessons  of  practical 
wisdom  should  be  freely  laid  before  them.  We  unite,  therefore,  in 
the  suggestion  made  by  a  contemporaiy,  that  the  author  should 
jjrcparc  an  abridgment  of  his  Rcjiort,  for  general  circulation.  Such 
a  work  would  Iia\  e  a  very  extensive  sale,  and  prove  of  great  benefit 
to  the  cause  of  public  instruction  among  us. 

Wc  shall  now,  in  conclusion,  offer  a  brief  account  of  the  progress 
that  lias  been  made  by  the  authorities  of  our  sister  city  in  fulfilling 
the  will  of  Mr.  Girard,  and  of  the  embarrassments  that  now  attend 
iheu:  action.  On  the  4th  day  of  .luly,  18.33,  the  corner  stone  of 
the  main  college  building  was   laid.     The  plan  adopted  by  the 


1811.]  Girard  College.  205 

building  committee  was  one  of  great  magnificence — in  accordance 
with  tlic  objects  for  wliich  the  edifice  was  intended.  Tiie  building 
is  to  be  of  the  Corintliian  order,  covering  a  space  of  one  hmidred 
and  ciglily-four  by  two  hundred  aind  forty-three  feel ;  the  wliolc 
Jicight  from  the  ground  to  the  roof  being  one  hundred  feet.  Tlie 
colunnis,  lliirty-foiu-  in  mimber,  will  smround  tlie  entii-e  cell  of  the 
building,  and  are  to  be  six  feet  in  diameter  at  the  top  of  the  base, 
and  at  the  top  of  the  capital,  five  feet ;  the  whole  height  of  the 
capital  being  fifly-five  feci.  The  entire  structure  is  to  be  composed 
of  marble,  even  the  stairways  and  roof  being  of  tliat  material.  iMr. 
Girard  gave  careful  and  minute  directions  in  liis  will,  with  regard 
to  tlie  construction  of  every  part  of  the  building.  It  may  easily  be 
imagined  that  a  work  of  sucli  magnitude,  requiring  so  great  an 
amount  of  materials  and  labor,  coidd  only  be  accomplished  in  a 
gi-eal  lengtli  of  time.  On  this  point  Mr.  Smith's  Report,  the  last 
of  the  documents  placed  at  the  head  of  this  article,  speaks  as 
follows  :— 

"  livery  ffTort  has  been  made,  ever>-  species  of  management  has 
been  resorted  to  ;  all  the  force  that  could  be  used  has  been  applied  ; 
the  necessary  funds  have  been  furnished,  and  the  work  has  advanced 
with  as  much  rapidity  as  was  possible.  But  it  is  a  great  work,  and 
cxperieuee  has  taugirt  us  that  great  works  require  a  great  length  of 
time  to  complete  them.  Compared  with  other  works  of  a  similar 
extent,  it  has  advanced  more  rapidly  than  they  have,  and  will,  probably, 
lie  completed  as  soon  as  any  other  of  equal  magnitude  in  this  or  any 
other  country." — P.  18. 

The  principal  building  will  probably  not  be  completed  for  some 
five  or  six  years.  Nine  years  have  already  elapsed  since  tlie  death 
of  Mr.  Girard,  and  yet,  "  notwithstanding  the  millions  wliich  he  has 
devoted  to  this  object,  not  one  orphan  has  derived  the  slightest 
advantage  from  the  bequest."  So  long  a  delay,  from  whatever 
causes  it  may  have  arisen,  cannot  but  be  regretted.  Has  it  been 
iiiiavoidable  ?  Was  it  Mr.  Girard's  intention?  Shall  it  continue? 
These  questions,  and  others  like  them,  liave  been  agitated  with  no 
little  excitement,  in  Philadclpliia.  The  Councils  have  been  blamed, 
by  their  political  opponents  and  others,  for  authorizing  the  construc- 
tion of  an  edifice  so  costly,  and  requiring  so  long  time  for  its  com- 
pletiipii;  ihc  tmstees  of  the  college  have  been  blamed,  for  not 
organiziiirr  Uic  institution  sooner,  without  waiting  for  the  completion 
ol  the  buildings  ;  and  the  trustees,  in  tiurn,  allege  that  they  liave 


206   _^  Girard  College.  [April, 

been  anxious  to  commence  tlie  business  of  instniction  for  some 
years,  but  liave  not  found  their  views  seconded  by  the  city  autho- 
rities. From  the  Report  of  llie  board  of  trustees  presented  to 
Comicils,  JiJy  IG,  1840,  wc  learn  tiiat  they  apprised  that  body  in 
April,  1838,  tliat  their  arrangements  would  enable  them  to  organize 
the  institution  and  commence  the  instruction  of  orphans  in  October 
of  that  yeai- ;  and  that  Councils  authorized  such  organization,  pro- 
vided it  could  be  entered  into  consistently  with  the  provisions  of 
Mr.  Girai-d's  will.  The  commissioners  of  the  Giiard  estates,  de- 
sirous to  have  a  legal  opinion  before  the  step  was  finally  taken, 
proposed  to  John  Sergeant,  Esq.,  the  question,  "  Wiether  the  ■^^■ill 
authorizes  the  conmiencemcnt  of  the  duties  of  the  college  until 
the  whole  is  coni])lete."  To  tliis  question  Mr.  Sergeant  replied  in 
the  negative,  much  to  the  surprise,  it  seems,  of  the  trustees,  who 
found  it  hard  to  reconcile  this  opinion  of  the  learned  gentleman  with 
the  sanction  which  he  had  given,  two  years  before,  to  the  appoint- 
ment of  the  presiilcnt  of  the  college.  UnwiUing  to  relinquish  the 
liope  of  opening  the  institution,  they  applied  again  to  Mr.  Sergeant, 
and,  with  his  concurrence,  to  Horace  Binney,  Esq.,  as  associate 
counsel,  but  "  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Binney  was  altogether  confirma- 
tory of  that  of  Mr.  Sergeant,  and  was  even  more  explicit  in  denying 
all  right  to  open  the  college  under  the  will,  until  the  buildings 
should  be  entirely  completed  and  furnished.  Against  a  legal  autho- 
rity so  high  as  that  of  the  gentlemen  mentioned,  the  board  gave  up 
all  expectation  of  being  able  to  cflect  immediately  the  regular  orga- 
nization of  the  college."  This  opinion  has  been  subjected  to  severe 
scrutiny ;  and,  in  our  judgment,  the  arguments  of  the  board  in 
reply  to  it — founded  mainly  upon  the  principle,  that  a  building  can 
be  said  to  be  "  constructed,"  when  it  is  sufficiently  advanced  toward 
completion  to  be  used  for  the  purposes  for  which  it  was  designed, 
just  as  a  bridge  is  "  constructed"  when  it  can  be  safely  passed  by 
carriages — are  abundantly  conclusive.  A  masterly  examination  of 
the  case  was  presented  in  a  late  number  of  a  contemporary  journal,* 
to  which  wc  refer  our  reader.'?,  only  remarking,  that  it  is  there 
most  clearly  shown,  that  the  princijile  of  Messrs.  Binney  and  Ser- 
geant's opinion,  if  carried  out,  would  certainly  convict  the  Councils 
of  Philadelphia  of  a  breach  of  trust,  in  applying  tlie  residuary  fund 
of  Mr.  Girard's  estate  to  diminish  liie  burden  of  taxation  in  the 
*  New- York  Review,  No.  .vii. 


1S41.]  Girard  College.  207 

cily,  before  it  was  ascertained  that  the  whole  of  the  trust  funds 
would  not  bti  needed  for  the  primetry  piu-pose  designated  in  the 
will — the  establishment  and  maintenance  of  the  college.  But  as 
it  is  a  settled  point  that  the  college  cannot  be  opened  in  the  face 
of  these  legal  opinions,  it  is  almost  useless  to  argue  that  ques- 
tion now. 

The  trustees,  still  desirous  to  organize  the  institution,  in  some 
way,  so  as  to  commence  tlie  business  of  instruction,  then  proposed 
to  the  city  Coiuicilsthe  plan  o{  a.  2'>reliminary  scliool,  which  seemed 
to  possess  all  the  requisites  for  giving  effect  to  their  views,  and 
even  to  ofler  advantages,  in  point  of  economy  and  facility  of  com- 
mencement, superior  to  those  of  opening  the  college  at  once. 
Having  obtained  the  written  opinions  of  Messrs.  Birmcy  and  Ser- 
geant in  favor  of  the  scheme,  the  trustees  presented  it  to  the 
Councils  on  the  12th  of  March,  1839.  It  w^as  approved  by  the 
select  council,  but  did  not  meet  with  equal  approbation  in  the  other 
branch.  In  their  commiuiication  of  July  16,  1810,  the  trustees 
renewed  the  proposal  to  the  Councils,  with  such  arguments  and 
recommendations  as  appeiued  to  them  necessary  and  proper.  That 
communication  was  referred  by  the  Common  Council  to  a  select 
committee,  upon  whose  Report  we  now  propose  to  offer  a  few 
remarks.  Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  tone  in  whicii  it  is 
written,  or  the  doctrines  it  supports,  we  must  say  that  it  displays 
the  abilities  of  hs  author  in  a  very  favorable  light.  Its  arguments 
are  framed  with  ingenuity  and  address  ;  when  they  are  sound,  the 
expression  gives  them  their  full  effect,  and  when  they  are  sophistical, 
it  almost  makes  "  the  worse  appear  the  better  reason."  We  must 
commend,  also,  the  boldness  with  which  the  Report  states  all  the 
dilTicuhic.^  of  tile  subject,  and  the  fearless  independence  willi  which 
an  unpopular  course  is  suggested  and  advocated.  But  here  our 
commendation  must  stop.  While  we  freely  acquit  the  committee 
of  any  intention  to  do  wrong,  and  give  them  credit  for  entire  honesty 
in  forming  tlicir  opinions,  and  great  candor  in  stating  them,  we  can- 
not but  regret  that  they  have  allowed  themselves  to  speak  in  atone 
of  disrespectful  censure  of  the  board  of  trustees,  which  would  be 
unwarrantable,  even  if  that  body,  instead  of  having  labored  failh- 
I'llly  for  years  in  discharging  the  duties  of  their  ofBce,  had  criminally 
lai^uKin.-ieed  its  affairs  and  abused  its  powers.  The  spirit  evinced 
iu  tlie   Report  is  utterly  unworthy  of  the  men  or  the  occasion. 


208  Girard  College.  [April, 

Those  who  are  so  unfortunntc  as  to  form  their  opinions  of  the 
board  of  trustees  from  lliis  Report  alone  must  believe  ihem  to  be 
any  thing  but  honorable  men — any  thing  but  men  in  the  highest 
walks  of  life,  and  of  the  best  reputation  for  integrity  and  virtue,  as 
they  really  are.  Whether  the  conmiittee  intended  it  or  not,  such 
is  the  real  drift  and  bcaltng""  ttf  tlie  Report.  One  quotation  will 
suffice  to  show  this  clearly.  Sjjeaking  of  the  plan  proposed  by  the 
board,  and  sanctioned  by  its  legal  advisers,  to  draw  the  funds  neces- 
sary for  the  support  of  the  preliminary  school  from  the  income  of 
the  residuary  estate  of  Jlr.  Girard,  the  Report  proceeds  : — 

"  To  draw  tlic  expenses  fioni  the  final  residue  in  an  indirect  manner, 
though  it  midit  evndo  the  loi,'al  con.seciuences  of  a  breach  of  trust, 
would  be  to  violate  the  iiilcutions  of  the  testator.  His  designs  should 
not  be  thwarted  by  evasions  and  iiidircclion,  any  more  than  by  plain 
subversions.  Honesty  in  the  c.\eciilion  of  a  trust  seeks  for  no  subter- 
fuges, and  will  adopi  none.  It  explores  the  written  will  to  ascertain 
its  meaning,  and  does  wx  ])cr\-crt  il  by  presuming  to  become  wiser 
than  what  is  written." — P.  0. 

Although  these  remarks  are  not  expressly  made  wth  reference 
to  the  board,  it  is  clear  that  if  they  are  not  intended  to  apply  to 
the  measure  proposed  by  that  body,  they  have  no  application  at  all. 
Such  insinuations  arc  as  injudicious  as  they  are  unjust.  The 
trustees  are  gentlemen  as  little  likely  to  "  seek  for  subterfuges"  and 
to  thwart  the  designs  of  Mr.  ('irard  by  "  evasions  and  indirections" 
as  the  select  committee  of  the  Conmion  Council.  Tlieir  proposal 
in  the  premises  was  profe.-sedly  and  obviously  dictated  by  a  desire 
to  vicet  the  wishes  of  the  te>lrttur  by  "organizing  the  college  as 
soon  as  practicable,"  according  to  the  will,  and  to  avoid  thwarting 
them  by  continued  and  unnecessarj^  delays  ;  and  as  such,  even  if 
en'oneous,  it  ought  to  have  l)eeii  respectfully  and  comleously  ex- 
amined. Were  il  necessary,  wc  could  bring  other  passages  from 
the  Report,  evincing  a  similar  miworthy  spirit. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  ingenuity  of  this  Report.  It  is  cha- 
racterized, generally,  by  partial  and  detached  views,  rather  than  by 
comprehensive  principles.  It  is  sufficiently  acute  ;  but  it  rather 
exhibits  the  sagacity  of  the  mere  lawyer,  picking  flaws  in  an  in- 
dictment, than  the  wisdom  of  the  profound  jin-ist,  deducing  just 
views  from  broad  and  fundamental  doctrines.  The  committee 
could  not  build  a  house  for  their  lives,  but  they  arc  excellent  at 
telling  how  bricks  should  be  bid.     This  want  of  comprehensive- 


1811.]  Girard  College.  209 

ncss  pervades  most  of  llicir  arguments  and  opinions,  but  is  especially 
manifest  in  their  examination  of  three  prominent  points,  the  appli 
culion  of  the  residuary  estate  of  Mr.  Girard,  the  appointment  of  tlie 
tircsidcnl  of  llie  college,  and  the  administration  of  the  board  of 
trustees.  As  to  the  first  of  these,  the  committee  arg-uc  themselves 
into  the  belief  tlial  the  residuary  fund  "  cannot  be  diverted  from  tlic 
objects  to  wliich  it  is  at  present  applied,  until  additional  buildings 
arc  required  to  accommodate  such  orphans  as  may  apply  for  ad- 
mission after  three  hundred  have  been  introduced."  There  is  no 
principle  applying  to  the  interpretation  of  wills  more  firmly  cstab- 
lislicd  than  that  the  primary  design  of  the  testator,  wlien  it  is  obvious 
frojn  tlie  will,  is  to  be  fulfilled  before  other  provisions  contained 
in  the  document — that  ever)'-  thing  else  must  give  place  to  the 
primarij  design.  Had  the  committee  kept  this  principle  in  mind, 
tliey  could  never  have  arrived  at  the  singular  conclusion  "  tliat  the 
period  when  the  final  residuaiy  fund  can  be  taken  for  the  purposes 
of  ihc  college  may  never  arrive."  The  will  appropriates  two 
luillions  of  dollars  for  erecting  certain  buildings,  and  providing  them 
witli  furniture  and  apparatus  ;  and  provides,  also,  that  after  these 
objects  are  accomplished,  if  the  income  arising  from  that  part  of 
the  said  smn  wliich  may  remain  should  not  be  sufficient,  "  owing 
to  tlie  increase  of  the  number  of  orphans  applying  for  admission, 
or  otlier  cause,"  then  "  such  furlher  sum  as  may  be  necessary  for 
the  construction  of  new  buildings  and  the  maintenance  and  educa- 
tion of  such  further  number  of  orphans,"  &c.,  shall  be  taken  from 
tlie  final  rcsiduarj-  fund  of  the  estate.  The  great  design  of  the 
tcstaior  is  to  endow  a  college  for  orphans  whose  benefits  shall 
c-xti-nd  to  as  great  a  number  as  the  space  which  he  allots  for  the 
purpose  can  accommodate :  and  for  the  accomplishment  of  tliis 
design  lie  appropriates,  first,  two  millions  of  dollars  ;  the  buildings 
are  to  be  erected  and  provided  witli  suitable  furniture  and  apparatus; 
then  if  any  portion  of  the  two  millions  remains,  it  is  to  be  funded 
for  tlie  maintenance  of  the  college ;  if  it  does  not  suflice  for  that 
object,  owing  to  the  increase  of  tlie  number  of  applicants  for  ad- 
mission, or  any  other  cause,  such  furtlier  sum  as  is  necessary  sliall 
be  taken  from  the  residuary  estate.  Such  is  tlie  plain,  common 
sense  uicaning  of  the  will.  Not  so,  however,  according  to  tlie  logic 
of  the  committee.  No  cause  whatever,  in  their  judgment,  is  sufll- 
cicnl  to  authorize  the  application  of  the  residuary  fund  to  college. 


210  Girard  College.  [April, 

I^urposes,  if  there  should  be  no  residue  of  tlie  two  millions  after 
the  completion  of  the  college  and  appurtenances  !  So  that,  if  by- 
mismanagement  or  mistake,  the  buildings  should  absorb  the  whole 
sum,  or  if  the  two  million  fund  itself  should  be  dissipated  or  em- 
bezzled, the  primary  design  of  Jlr.  Girard  is  to  be  fntstrated,  while 
there  arc  millions  remaim"ng  iu  the  residuary  fund  wliich  he  evidently 
appropriated  to  the  use  of  iho  college  whenever  it  shoidd  be  neces- 
sary !  With  all  deference  to  the  learned  committee,  this  inteijiret- 
ation  of  theirs  is  as  marvelous  a  case  of  perversion  as  has  ever 
passed  under  our  notice. 

The  committee  pronounce  the  appointmoit  of  the  president  of 
llie  college  a  measure  plainly  ojiposcd  to  the  directions  of  the 
■will.  Without  alluding  lu  their  explanation  of  that  part  of  the  will 
■which  they  suppose  to  have  been  contravened  by  the  appointment, 
we  shall  only  say,  that  apart  from  all  other  arguments,  the  principle, 
that  the  authority  given  in  the  will  for  the  organization  of  the  col- 
lege implied  the  power  to  take  all  steps  necessary  for  that  organiza- 
tion, is  sufHcicnt  to  justify  the  appointment.  One  of  these  necessary 
steps  was  the  deputation  of  an  agent  to  collect  information  in 
Europe.  None  could  do  this  to  so  good  advantage  as  the  high- 
est ofliccr  of  the  institution  ;  and  as  the  will  only  provides  for  the 
mode  of  appointing  such  teachers  and  agents  as  could  enter  upon 
their  duties  after  the  comjilcte  organization  of  the  establishment, 
there  was  no  breach  of  trust  in  the  appointment.  The  advantage 
of  having  such  a  presiding  ofliccr  thoroughly  prepared  for  his 
■work,  seems  lost  upon  the  conmiiltee.  Their  ad  captanchtin  re- 
mark that  "  more  than  one  individual"  can  be  found  in  this  country- 
capable  of  presiding  over  the  college,  with  other  discomleous 
allusions  of  the  same  sort,  are  unwortliy  of  notice. 

The  Report  dwells  at  much  length  upon  the  powers  and  duties 
of  the  board  of  trustees.  It  is  admitted,  freely,  that  these  fall  under 
the  class  generally  denominated  executive  duties.  But  granting 
that  they  are  such,  does  it  necessarily  follow  that  the  trustees  are 
neither  to  form  nor  express  any  opinions  of  their  own  ?  Yet  the 
committee  seem  to  imply  as  much,  by  reiterating,  in  great  variety 
of  phrase,  the  sentiment  that  the  board  have  no  right  to  act  as 
advisers.  They  censure  them  for  advising  tl)e  appointment  of  tlie 
president,  and  for  urging  upon  the  attention  of  Councils,  with  such 
arguments  as  their  good  sense  and  experience  suggested,  the  mea- 


1841. J  Girard  College.  211 

sure  of  a  preliminary  scliool,  and  all  this  because  such  advice  and 
recommendations  form  no  part  of  their  duties  as  an  executive  body ! 
So  llien,  it  is  llie  duty  of  an  executive  to  act  the  automaton  ;  tlie 
board  of  trustees  of  Girard  College  is  only  to  open  its  mouth, 
puj)jicl-like,  \vhen  the  Councils  shall  pull  the  strings  !  By  the 
ordinance  creating  the  board,  it  is  expressly  declared,  that  "  it  shall 
be  llicii-  duty  to  superintend  the  organization  and  management  of 
Girard  College,  in  conformity  with  the  will  of  the  late  Stephen 
Girard ;"  and  this  duty  ijnplies  that  of  devising  measiu-es  of  orga- 
nization and  management,  and,  of  course,  of  recommending  such 
measures  to  the  legislative  body,  with  such  of  the  reasons  and 
nrgiunents  that  induced  their  adoption,  as  might  be  deemed  neces- 
sary and  ex]:>edient.  So  far,  then,  from  traveling  out  of  the  line  of 
their  duty  in  "  advising"  and  "  urging"  what  they  deemed  to  be 
necessary  measures,  they  would  have  been  criminally  culpable  if 
llicy  had  not  done  so.  It  would  naturally  be  expected,  that  their 
ojiiiiions,  the  fruit  of  much  time  and  labor  devoted  to  the  study  of 
the  subject,  would  be  valuable  to  the  Councils  ;  and  their  very  ap- 
])oiutment  as  trustees  was  intended  to  insure  this  study  on  their 
part,  and  to  obtain  such  advice  as  their  wisdom  and  experience 
might  suggest. 

It  is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  committee,  holding  such 
views,  should  oppose  the  establishment  of  a  preliminary  scliool,  and 
recommend  the  dissolution  of  the  board  of  trustees  and  the  discharge 
of  the  president  of  the  college  from  employment.  The  Common 
Council  has  not  yet,  we  believe,  acted  on  their  Report,  and  we 
sincerely  hope  that  its  doctrines  and  measures  may  not  find  favor 
with  that  ])ody.  On  the  whole,  it  is  very  much  to  be  regretted  that 
Mr.  Girard  committed  the  execution  of  his  will,  so  far,  at  least,  as 
the  college  is  concerned,  to  the  city  authorities.  His  usual  sagacity 
sccnis  here  to  have  deserted  him.  The  college  has  already  be- 
come an  element  of  gi-eat  power  in  the  political  warfare  of  Phila- 
delphia ;  and,  in  this  respect,  matters  will  probably  become  wor.se, 
instead  of  better,  with  the  progress  of  time.  Still,  we  indulge  the 
liope,  that  under  the  guidance  of  divine  Providence,  the  Girard 
College  may  before  many  years  be  fully  organized,  and  the  antici- 
l>alions  of  Mr.  Biddle's  Address  more  than  fulfilled  ;  when  "tlicre 
shall  he  collected  within  its  walls  all  that  the  knowledge  and  re- 
search  of  men  have   accumulated  to  enlighten  and  hiiprove  the 


212  Nccessilij  of  Christ's  Sufferings.  [April, 

minds  of  youth.  It  will  be  the  civil  West  Point  of  this  couiUry, 
where  all  the  sciences  which  minister  to  men's  happiness,  and  all 
tlie  arts  of  peace,  may  be  tlioroughly  and  practically  taught.  Its 
success  will  naturally  render  it  the  model  for  other  institutions — 
the  centre  of  all  improvement  in  things  taught,  no  less  than  in  the 
art  of  teaching  them — the  nursery  of  instmctors  as  well  as  of  pupils 
— thus  not  merely  accomplishing  the  direct  benefit  of  those  to 
whom  its  instruction  extends,  but  irradiating  by  its  example  the 
whole  circumference  of  human  knowledge." 
Dickinson  College,  Nov.  I'J,  1840. 


Akt.  II. — All  Essat/  on  the  Necessity  of  Christ's  Sufferings. 

liY  KEV.  JOSEPH  CASTLE,  A.M., 

Of  Ihr  Ti'cy  Conference. 

"  '0-(  oi'7u  -jh/im-rai,  Koi  n'ru^  Ida  -oOe'iv  t6i'  ;ifiicTOi',"  Luke  xxiv,  46. 

The  mystciy  of  our  redemption  completed — the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ  demonstrated- — the  lacerated  hearts  of  the  disconsolate 
disciples  healed  and  exulting  in  the  assured  return  of  their  divine 
Master  from  the  dominions  of  the  tomb — and  Christ  graciously 
condescending  to  open  tlic  Scriptures  to  their  understanding,  and 
thus  prepare  them  to  carry  the  tidings  of  salvation  to  a  lost  world, 
are  some  of  the  deeply  interesting  and  infniitcly  important  truths 
recorded  in  this  chapter. 

The  Bible  is  an  inspired  volume,  and  all  its  truths  are  importaiit ; 
but  some  arc  more  so  than  others,  and  some  fill  a  more  prominent 
place  in  the  inspired  record  than  others  ;  but  none  more  so  than 
the  divine  cliaracter  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  infinite  value  of  his 
sufferings.  He  has  a  name  which  is  above  every  name  ;  he  is 
over  all,  God  blessed  for  ever  ;  he  bears  the  same  titles,  does  the 
same  works,  and  receives  the  same  honors  as  the  supreme  God 
our  heavenly  Father;  and  our  salvation  commenced,  continued, 
and  consummated  in  heaven  is  wholly  ascribed  to  his  sufferings 
and  death.  We  are  bought  with  a  price ;  we  are  redeemed,  not 
wnth  corruptible  things,  as  silver  and  gold,  but  with  the  precious 
blood  of  Clirisl ;  we  are  waslied,  we  are  justified,  we  are  sancti- 


1611.]  Necessity  of  Chfist's  Sufferings.  213 

ficd  ;  wc  arc  pi'cscnlcd  without  spot,  and  blameless,  before  the 
llironc  of  the  excellent  majesty  in  the  heavens,  through  the  blood 
and  riglitcuusncss  of  God's  dear  Son. 

This  doctrine  has  been  so  often  reiterated  in  the  nursery,  in  the 
school  room,  and  in  the  sacred  desk,  that  it  has  become  as  familiar, 
in  smuidj  as  household  words ;  and  yet  there  is  a  richness  in  it 
wliich  all  the  wealth  of  an  angel's  intellect  could  not  have  produced. 
CJud  only  could  conceive  the  thoughts,  and  teach  the  words,  which 
mnkc  us  wise  unto  salvation.  In  the  sufterings  of  Jesus  Christ  there 
is  a  height  which  no  man  can  reach — a  depth  which  no  man  can 
fathom — it  lies  too  deeply  buried  in  the  profundity  of  the  divine 
nature,  for  man's  limited  and  lapsed  powers  fully  to  grasp ;  but 
what  is  revealed  Y>'e  may,  we  must  devoutly  and  diligently  study, 
and  though  we  cannot  fully  comprehend,  we  can  believe,  and  be- 
lieving we  shall  adore  ! 

This  doctrine,  most  wonderful  and  gracious,  commanding  the 
attfution  of  heavenly- beings,  and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  has 
ever  been  repugnant  to  the  carnal  mind.  It  was  foolishness  to  the 
Greeks ;  and  the  Jews,  though  favored  with  the  traditions  of  the 
patriarchs,  the  writings  of  the  prophets,  and  the  institutions  of  Moses, 
they  stumbled  at  thi«  stumbling  stone,  to  their  national  fall ;  and 
even  the  chosen  disciples,  who  enjoyed  the  public  and  private  in- 
structions of  the  Son  of  God,  were  exceedingly  backward  to  receive 
this  wonderful  truth.  He  therefore  complained  of  their  unbelief, 
and  after  his  resurrection  he  said,  "  0  fools,  and  slow  of  liearl  to 
believe  all  that  the  prophets  have  spoken!  Ought  not  Christ  to 
have  suffered  these  things,  and  enter  into  his  glory  ?  And  begin- 
ning at  Closes,  and  all  the  prophets,  he  expounded  unto  them  in 
all  the  Scri])tures  the  things  concerning  himself."  0  what  a 
ilivinc  discourse  must  that  have  been  !  Happy  disciples  !  how 
richly  were  you  compensated  for  all  your  son'ows  !  "  Then  opened 
lie  their  understanding,  that  they  might  understand  the  Scriptures, 
and  said  unto  them.  Thus  it  is  WTitten,  and  thus  it  behooved  Christ 
to  suflcr." 

"  It  hc.honvA'd  Christ  to  suffer."  It  was  fit,  proper,  necessary 
'h.ii  Christ  should  suffer  these  diings.  But  why  w^as  it  necessary  ? 
^^  li.it  has  he  done  to  experience  the  pains  of  Calvary,  and  sink  in 
dc.itli,  beneath  a  load  of  shame  and  wo  ?  Suffering  is  the  natural 
.•iiid  necessary  consequence  of  sin,  for  sin  is  the  transgression  of  the. 

Vol.  I.— H 


214  Necessity  of  Christ's  Svfferings.  [April, 

law  of  our  bemg,  as  well  as  llic  revealed  will  of  God,  and  cannot 
be  broken  without  violence  done  to  tlie  constitution  which  God  has 
given  to  nature,  at  the  same  time  that  it  offers  an  insult  to  the  infi- 
nite and  eternal  majesty.  Wiiere  there  is  sin,  there  must  be  suficr- 
ing,  for  sin  is  an  unnatural  state,  as  well  as  an  unholy  one.  But 
was  Jesus  Christ  in  any  sense  a  sinner  because  he  suffered  these 
things  ?  If  this  were  true,  would  it  not  follow  that  he  is  not  tiie 
Saviour,  for  one  sijuier  can  svu-ely  as  well  save  himself,  as  another 
sinner  can  save  the  world  ?  But  he  was  not,  in  an}'^  sense,  a  sinner, 
for  lie  had  dwelt  from  eternity  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father ;  pros- 
trate seraphim  had  adored  before  liis  throne ;  angels  sung  his 
advent ;  and  a  voice  from  the  excellent  glory  proclaimed,  "  This 
is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased." 

Prophecy  indiH'd  has  foretold,  not  only  his  birth,  eventful  life, 
and  wondrous  v, nrks,  but  his  sufferings  and  death ;  but  prophecy 
was  not  that  wliicli  rendered  his  death  necessary.  The  necessity 
liad  existed  Ion:;  before  the  first  prophetic  harp  was  tuned  to  sing 
the  wonders  of  his  love — before  the  first  altar  was  raised,  and  the 
first  slain  victim  Ijlcd  to  leach  the  nature  and  design  of  his  death. 
If  it  had  not  been  necessary  for  him  to  bleed  and  die,  the  sacrificial 
institution  would  have  been  unknown  ;  the  harps  of  prophecy  would 
have  waketl  to  fillier  themes,  or  been  for  ever  dumb  ;  the  seasons 
would  have  returned  to  find  men  improved  in  viitue,  and  the  sun 
would  have  run  his  race  until  men,  full  of  knowledge,  and  per- 
fected in  celestial  graces,  would  probably  have  passed  by  an  easy 
transition  from  this  to  a  more  exalted  sphere — ignorance  and  all 
its  folly — disease  and  all  its  pain — death,  the  grave-yard,  and  all 
its  horrors  would  have  been  unknown.  If  the  necessity  had  not 
existed  the  Son  of  God  would  not  have  suffered  ;  the  world's  Re- 
deemer would  not  have  died.  Indeed,  if  he  had  not  suffered,  the 
prophetic  writings  would  liave  remained  unfulfilled  ;  but  if  the  ne- 
cessity had  not  previously  existed,  these  writings  would  never  have 
been  given. 

The  suffcrim^s  of  Christ,  which  astonished  angels,  confounded 
devils,  and  re-torcd  an  apostate  world  to  the  embraces  of  God, 
were  not  the  result  of  fate,  or  an  eternal  series  of  successive 
causes,  which,  uccordinir  to  tlie  faith  of  some,  impiousl}'-  binds  all 
things,  even  God  himself,  and  renders  all  things  inevitable,  and 
therefore  destroys  all  free  agency,  and  of  course  all  distinction  bc- 


1811.)  Necessity  of  Chrisfs  Sufferings.  21 5 

Iwecn  merit  and  dcinerit — between  vice  and  virtue — and  makes  even 
llic  leniii  uniioccssar}-  and  unmeaning.  Nor  are  liis  suflerings  to 
bo  traced  merely  to  a  divine  decree,  wiiicli,  according  to  tlie  faith 
of  others,  foreordains  whatsoever  comes  to  pass,  for  a  divine  decree 
ordaining  all  things,  makes  all  things  nccessarj',  and  is,  therefore, 
nearly  as  fatal  to  free  agency  as  fate  itself,  as  it  leaves  but  one  free 
agent  in  the  universe.  But  man  was  free  in  his  rebellion,  and 
Christ  was  eminently  so  in  his  sufferings  ;  for  though  it  was  neces- 
sary that  Christ  should  sufler  these  things,  it  was  only  so,  "that 
roimntancc  and  remission  of  sins  should  be  preached  in  his  name 
among  all  nations."  And  that  men  could  not  repent  and  be  forgiven 
■without  this,  is  evident  from  tJie  fact,  that  he  died  and  rose  again 
for  this  purpose  and  for  this  reason.  Sui  is  a  perfect  paralysis  to 
the  soul ;  it  clouds  the  intellect,  hardens  the  heart,  and  vitiates  all 
its  jjowcrs.  JIan,  left  to  himself,  is  destitute  of  every  gracious 
emotion,  and  woidd  wander  for  ever,  plunging  deeper  at  everj''  step 
in  misciy  and  sin.  No  man  unaided  by  divine  influence  ever  did, 
or  ever  will,  repent  and  turn  to  God.  But  if  he  could  repent,  and 
would  do  so,  with  the  most  deep  and  reforming  sorrow,  ^^■ould  this 
be  an  adequate  atonement  for  the  violation  of  the  Creator's  law  ? 
Kepentance  will  not  satisfy  the  claims  of  justice  at  a  righteous 
tribunal  on  eartlr,  and  why  should  it  at  the  righteous  tribimal  in 
licaven  ?  Is  God  less  just  than  man,  and  are  the  claims  of  man  to 
be  met,  but  the  claims  of  the  Almighty  to  be  surrendered  ?  No ; 
God  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  infinitely  just,  moral  Governor  of  the 
universe,  who  is  never  merciful  at  the  expense  of  his  justice,  or 
just  at  the  expense  of  his  mercy,  but  is  the  same  wise,  and  holy, 
and  just  God,  in  all  the  dispensations  of  his  providence,  and  in  all 
the  acts  of  his  righteous  administration  in  heaven,  earth,  and  hell ; 
and  his  law  is  unalterable  in  its  nature  and  eternal  in  its  demands 
of  obedience. 

The  necessity  of  Christ's  sufferings  arose  from  tlic  position  which 
mail  assumed,  from  the  relation  wliich  he  sustained  to  God  in 
consequence  of  the  original  transgression.  He  was  made  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels ;  received  his  outward  form  from  the  dust 
of  the  earth,  but  liis  mind,  his  heart,  his  immoilal  nature  from  the 
brea'.h  of  God.  He  w\as  made  in  tlie  image  of  his  i\Iaker,  bore 
the  iinini-s-i  of  majesty,  and,  as  a  sovereign,  all  things  were  placed 
in  subjeclion  under  him  ;  but  as  the  creature  of  God,  and  as  a  test 


216  Nccessitij  of  Christ's  Si'ffrrings.  [April, 

of  liis  obedience,  he  was  coiiiniandcd,  not  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  llie 
tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  which  grew  in  the  midst  of  tlic 
garden  in  wliich  he  lived.  Crowned  with  the  Creator's  smiles, 
and  surrounded  by  the  ricli  ):roru.sioii  which  teeming  nature  yielded 
ready  to  his  iiand,  he  knew  no  want,  and  was  a  stranger  to  care, 
disease,  or  any  of  the  woes  which  have  been  the  portion  of  his 
sons.  In  tlii.s  happy  stale  the  tempter  found  him,  tempted  him, 
and  betrayed  liim  into  sin.  But  from  outward  force  or  fraud  alone 
he  coidd  not  fall,  for  heaven  had  armed  him  with  power  sufficient 
to  meet,  resist,  and  vanquish  a  host  of  foes.  Strong  in  virtue,  rich 
with  divine  comnumications,  and  guarded  by  the  explicit  command 
of  God,  he  could  have  spurned  the  traitor,  and  driven  him  back 
dismayed,  confounded  to  the  hell  from  whence  he  came.  But 
in  an  evil  hour,  forgetful  of  his  Jlakcr's  claims,  and  of  the 
obedience  which  was  due  to  God,  he  drank  in  the  delicious  poison, 
jaeldcd  to  tlic  inijjiilse  of  sinful  desire,  and  with  impious  hand  re- 
ceived the  forbidden  fruit,  and  ate  and  died.  The  law  of  God  was 
broken,  the  world  was  ruined,  and  man  was  justly  exposed  to  the 
full  penalty  of  the  broken  law — eternal  death  !  Was  it  then  there 
was  a  pause  in  lu-avcu  ?  Was  it  tlicn  that  angels'  harps  were  silent  ? 
Was  it  then  that  fallen  spirits  held  jubilee  in  ht^ll  ?  Ah  !  that  was 
a  solemn  hour,  not  only  to  earth,  but  to  l;caven ;  for  the  enemy  of 
God  had  triumphed  ;  and  inan,  the  younger  brother  of  angels,  had 
broken  faith  with  heaven  and  was  fallen — fearfully,  foully  fallen, 
in  the  pit,  dark,  cheerless,  and  profound. 

God  might  in  justice  have  destroyed  man  from  the  earth,  cut  ofi' 
the  embryo  race  in  the  bud  of  being,  and  blotted  out  the  earth, 
cursed  by  the  monster  birth  of  sin,  from  its  place  in  the  heavens  ; 
but  if  he  iiad  done  so,  this  would  not  have  healed  the  mighty 
breach  which  sin  had  made  ;  the  history  of  man's  fall  would  not 
have  been  forgotten  ;  the  earth's  vacant  orbit,  no  longer  vocal  with 
man's  grateful  praise,  would  have  remained  to  remind  the  intelli- 
gences of  heaven  of  sin  and  its  direful  consequences ;  but  would 
not  Satan  and  his  legions  have  reveled  in  the  imaginary  might  of 
having  defeated  the  Almighty  in  his  wise  and  benevolent  designs  ? 
Would  it  not  have  been  iiublished,  by  the  malignant  spirits  of  hell, 
as  an  abortive  attempt,  on  the  part  of  the  infinite  and  eternal 
Father,  to  people  a  world  v.-ith  beings  but  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels  of  God  ? 


1811.]  N^cccssiti/ of  ChrisCs  Sufferings.  217 

ll  is  not  for  man  ai  present  to  explore  the  untrodden  paths  which 
he  rcuiolc  from  this  our  birthplace  and  tomb,  or  to  lift  the  curtain 
which  iicparatcs  tiie  seen  from  the  unseen  ;  but  from  the  intima- 
tions which  are  given  in  Scrijiturc  of  angelic  natures,  both  iu  a 
glorified  and  ruined  condition,  it  is  certain  we  are  a  part  of  a  won- 
drous whole.  Devils  arc  our  tempters  and  angels  are  our  minis- 
ters ;  and  the  fall  and  recovery  of  our  race,  however  it  may  fail  to 
interest  the  besotted  and  brutish  of  earth,  may  be  of  absorbing  in- 
terest to  the  inhabitants  of  other  and  far  distant  worlds.  The  mind 
was  made  free  bj'  the  Creator,  and  while  it  continues,  either  in 
angelic  or  human  forms,  freedom  is  essential  to  its  being  as  an 
accountable  agent ;  and  in  its  glorious  liberty  it  will  expatiate  on 
the  wondrous  works  and  ways  of  God ;  and  none  can  tell  wiiat 
cfTcct  it  might  have  had  on  the  modes  of  thought  and  feeling  of 
other  beings,  if  man  had  not  been  redeemed. 

To  have  respited  the  sinner  and  suffered  him  to  people  earth 
with  his  sons,  the  inheritors  of  his  misery  and  shame,  without  any 
j)rovij:ion  for  their  restoration  to  the  forfeited  favor  and  image  of 
Cod,  would  liave  been  inconsistent  alike  willi  the  benevolence  of 
the  divine  nature  and  the  justice  of  the  divine  administration  ;  and 
to  have  restored  him  to  favor  without  an  adequate  atonement  being 
made  for  sin  was  impossible,  as  every  perfection  of  the  divine 
nature  was  pledged  to  llie  execution  of  the  penalty  of  the  law  in  a 
inanncr  to  secure  all  the  ends  of  a  righteous  administration. 

As  far  as  we  can  discover,  man  had  assumed  that  position  in 
which  he  must  die  for  ever,  under  the  execution  of  that  penalty 
which  hud  been  incurred;  or  the  word  of  God  must  fail  of  being 
fulfdjed — "  In  the  day  that  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt  surely 
die  ;"  or  one  had  to  be  found  wlio  could  satisfy  the  utmost  demands 
of  justice,  and  rescue  man  from  the  curse  of  the  broken  law,  and 
thus  render  it  possible  that  God  might  be  just  in  all  his  administra- 
tion, and  justified  b)-^  all  his  creatures,  at  the  same  time  that  lie 
justifies  and  saves  the  sinner.  But  who  was  possessed  of  wisdom 
and  strength  sufHcjcm  to  undertake,  and  successfully  carry  through, 
a  work  of  such  wondrous  magnitude  ? 

"  'Twas  great  to  speak  the  world  from  naught : 
'Twas  greater  to  redeem !" 

flail's  life  was  justly  forfeited  to  divine  justice,  and  he  conld  not 
hi'l]i  limisolf;  and   every  other  finite  being  was  cipuiJiy  incapable 


218  Neccsiiti/ of  Christ's  Si'ffcmigs.  [April, 

of  affording  the  assislajice  which  was  necessary ;  for  angels,  as 
well  as  men,  arc  bound  by  the  law  of  the  Creator  to  serve  liim,  at 
all  limes,  to  the  full  extent  of  their  power,  and  can  only  satisfy  the 
claims  of  the  law  for  themselves,  and  can  have  no  spare  merit,  to 
place  to  the  account  of  an  erring  brother,  of  low  or  high  degiee. 
This  was  a  work  of  such  extreme  difliculty,  and  requiring  such 
vast  resources,  that  the  noblest  of  all  the  created  sons  of  God  might 
justly  fear  to  undertake,  and  could  not  have  undertaken  without 
certain  failure. 

But  in  the  dark  hour  of  man's  apostasy,  when  devils  v.'erc  exult- 
ing in  the  com])lete  success  of  their  daring  leader,  and  angels  were 
astonished  at  llic  madness  and  misery  of  man,  in  that  hour  devils 
were  destined  to  a  final  overthrow  ;  angels  were  to  find  new  cause 
for  adoring  admiration,  and  man  was  to  be  saved  in  a  manner 
which  should  hnrmoiiize  and  secure  all  the  interests  of  earth  and 
heaven.  When  in  the  whole  range  of  luiiversal  being,  among  all 
the  resplendent  orders  wliich- encircle  the  throne  of  God,  none  could 
be  found  who  could  redeem  his  brother  man,  or  give  to  God  a  ransom 
for  him,  Jesus,  Jehovah's  fellow^  the  brightness  of  the  Father's 
glor}',  and  the  express  image  of  his  person,  undertoolc  the  won- 
drous \\ork.  Wiicn  tliere  was  no  eye  to  pity,  no  outstretched  arm 
to  save,  lie  ofiercd  alone  to  tread  the  wine  press  of  the  -vviath  of 
God,  and,  by  his  own  almiglily  arm,  to  bring  salvation  to  a  ruined 
world.  He  offered  himself  to  be  a  sacrifice  for  sin,  that  he  might 
magnify  the  law  and  make  it  honorable,  and  rescue  repentant  man 
from  under  its  everlasting  curse  ! 

God  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  believcth  in  hin>  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting- 
life.  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his 
life  for  his  friends  ;  but  God  conunendeth  his  love  toward  us,  in  that 
while  we  were  sinners  Christ  died  for  us.  He  was  given  to  the 
world  in  promise,  in  propliccy,  in  types  and  shadows  ;  but  in  the 
fulness  of  time  he  came  in  person  to  teach  mankind  the  sublimest 
doctrines,  the  purest  morality,  and  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself  to 
put  away  sin,  and  obtain  eternal  redemption  for  us.  In  shrouded 
majesty,  he  assumed  our  nature  ;  though  rich  in  the  perfection  and 
bliss  of  heaven,  for  our  sakes  he  became  poor,  that  we  through  his 
poverty  might  be  rich  ;  though  in  the  form  of  God,  he  thought  it 
not  robbery  lo  be  equal  with  God,  and  made  himself  of  no  reputa- 


1841.]  Necessity  of  Christ'' s  Sujferings.  219 

tion,  and  look  upon  him  the.  form  of  a  sciTaiit,  and  was  made  in  the 
Jikencss  of  men  :  and  being  found  in  fasliion  as  a  man,  he  humbled 
himself  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the 
cross.  lie  took  not  on  him  tlic  nature  of  angels,  but  the  seed  of 
Abraham,  and  was  made  like  unto  his  bretlu'en,  subject  to  all  the 
innocent  infirmities  of  the  flesh,  to  hunger  and  thirst,  to  pain  and 
weariness,  to  distress  of  body,  and  anguish  of  mind  ;  for  it  became 
him,  for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by  whom  arc  all  things,  in 
brhiging  many  sons  unto  glory  to  make  the  Captain  of  om-  salva- 
tion perfect  through  suflermg.  He  was  emphatically  a  man  of 
sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief:  he  undertook  a  work,  which 
contravened  all  the  vile  passions  of  the  hmuan  heart ;  all  the  dark 
doings  of  a  sinful  world,  and  roused  up  against  him  envy,  malice, 
wrath,  revenge,  pride,  and  power,  and  spiritual  wickedness  in  jiigh 
places.  But  it  was  not  the  hatred  of  his  brethren,  tlie  uncurbed 
madness  of  wicked  men,  the  sleepless  vengeance  of  his  foes,  nor 
all  the  terrors  of  the  judgment  hall,  nor  a  lingering  death,  of  most 
excruciating  suffering  and  overwhelming  shame,  which  caused  his 
fainting,  trembling,  agony,  bloody  sweat,  and  heart-rending  cry, 
"  i\Iy  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  !"  No!  these 
tilings  were  light,  compared  with  tlie  burden  which  he  bore ;  it 
was  agony  which  we  have  not  souls  to  feel,  or  language  to  express, 
that  he  endinred,  when  prostrate  on  the  earth  "his  .sweat  was  as  it-were 
great  drops  of  blood,  falling  down  to  the  ga'ound  ;"  it  was  the  superin- 
cumbent load  of  a  guilty  world;  it  was  the  wrath  of  God  revealed  from 
licavcn  against  all  unrighteousness  and  ungodliness  of  men  :  he  was 
wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities,  the 
chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and  by  his  stripes  we  arc 
healed. 

Jt  was  a  work  the  misery  and  results  of  which  he  fully  knew  ;  a 
work  from  which  the  flesh  might  shrink,  but  for  which  the  spirit 
was  willing  ;  and  when  the  prophetic  lights  of  four  thousand  years, 
converging  on  the  cross  of  Calvary,  marked  the  destined  liour  of 
the  world's  atonement,  did  the  Redeemer  stand  aloof,  and  refuse 
lo  jierfect  the  work  he  had  begun  ?  No  :  he  assumed  our  intercbts, 
look  our  place,  bore  our  burden,  and  canceled  our  debt. 

'  he  great  day  of  expiation  had  come  ;  no  more  the  morning  and 
evening  sacrifice  was  to  burn  on  Judah's  altars  ;  no  more  was 
Aaron's  son,  in  }iis  priestly  dress  of  holiness  and  beauty,  to  st.uid 


220  Necessity  of  Christ's  Suffci-ings.  [April, 

in  tlie  divine  presence  witli  liic  appointed  offering  for  himself  and 
people,  for  another  priest  had  risen,  tlie  great  High  Priest  of  our 
profession,  and  on  this  day  the  true  sacrilice  was  to  be  offered,  the 
efficacy  of  which  reaches  back  through  all  past  time  to  the  first 
transgression,  and  forward  till  time  shall  be  no  more,  making  pro- 
rision  for  pardon  and  salvation  to  all  who  repent  and  obey.  The 
altar  was  erected,  and  justice  demanded  blood,  for  without  the 
shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission  ;  and  as  it  was  not  possible 
that  the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats  should  take  away  sin,  he  gave 
his  own  blood  ;  and  knowing  thai  all  things  were  now  accomplished ; 
that  "  every  rile  assumed  its  significancy  ;  evciy  prediction  met  its 
event;  and  cvcr\' symbol  displayed  its  correspondence,"  lie  said, 
"  It  is  finished ;"  and  bowed  liis  sacred  head,  and  died  ! 

"  Heaven  that  liour  let  fall  a  tear  ; 
Jli'avcn  wept,  that  man  might  smile! 
neaveii  bled,  that  man  might  never-  die  !" 

Here  mcrc)'  and  truth  met  together ;  righteousness  and  peace 
kissed  cacli  other;  (iod  w:is  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto 
liimself;  the  utmost  claims  of  justice  were  met,  and  all  the  ends  of 
a  righteous  admiiiislratinn  secured.  The  evil  of  sin  was  as  fully 
seen,  as  tliough  the  transgressor  had  suffered  the  penalty  of  the 
law  in  his  own  person  for  ever ;  and  God's  infinite  hatred  to  sin, 
and  his  boundless  love  to  the  sinner,  were  manifested,  in  a  manner 
which  alike  exalts  his  justice  and  his  mercy,  and  must  redound  to 
the  glory  of  his  jioly  name  for  ever. 

But  how  great  was  the  sacrifice  ;  how  vast  was  the  expendhurc 
of  means  !  Tiie  darkened  sun,  the  trembling  eartii,  the  opening 
graves,  })roclaimcd  the  costliness  of  that  sacrifice,  and  its  wondrous 
effects.  Tlic  throne  of  justice,  from  which  the  sinner  had  every 
thing  to  fear,  was  tnade  the  mercy  seat,  from  which  he  proclaims 
to  the  world,  Tlie  Lord  (iod,  merciful  and  gracious,  slow  to  anger 
and  of  great  kindness,  forgiving  iniquity,  transgression,  and  sin ; 
the  cherubim,  v.iih  the  llaming  sword  which  turned  every  way, 
retired,  and  left  a  free  access  to  the  tree  of  life,  whose  leaves  are 
for  the  healing  of  the  nations ;  death  was  met  in  his  own  dark 
dominions,  by  the  Prince  of  life,  and  left,  to  those  who  sleep  in 
Jesus,  a  stingless,  vanquished  foe  ;  the  day  was  dark,  but  the 
morrow's  sun  arose  on  a  vcdccined  creation,  and  the  messengers  of 
the  Prince  of  peace  went  forth  to  proclaim  the  acceptable  year  of 


18-111  Ncccssiti/ of  Chrisfs  Si'Jfcrings.  221 

llic  Lord,  and  the  ilay  of  vengeance  of  our  God ;  to  comfort  all 
lliat  inoiirn  ;  to  appoint  unto  them  that  mom-u  in  Zion,  to  give  unto 
ihcin  beauty  for  aslics,  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  the  garment  of 
praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness ;  that  they  might  be  called  the 
trees  of  righteousness,  the  planting  of  the  Lord,  that  he  might  be 
gloriiu'i]. 

Tlic  redemption  of  our  race,  by  the  sufierings  and  death  of  Jebus 
Clirist,  is  a  most  wonderful,  mysterious,  and  divine  work.  It  has 
probably  no  parallel  in  fJl  the  wondrous  works  of  God.  Coidd 
we  cnlcr  the  arcliives  of  heaven,  and  consult  the  records  of  eternity 
which  is  past,  or  with  more  than  an  angel's  ken  penetrate  deep  into 
the  future,  we  probably  should  find  nothing  to  equal  it  in  all  that 
the  Almighty  has  ever  done,  in  all  that  the  Almighty  will  ever  do  ! 
It  stands  alone,  invested  with  a  glory  peculiar  to  itself,  and  it  will 
stand  alone  for  ever,  the  most  wonderful  monument  of  the  divine 
justice  and  love. 

It  is  a  work  which  cannot  be  fully  known  in  this  life.  Time  is 
too  short,  and  earth  is  too  contracted  for  its  fuU  development.  It 
requires  a  wider  field  and  a  hmitlcss  duration,  and  in  brighter 
worlds  its  \vonders  will  be  displayed  to  the  glory  of  matchless 
grace  and  to  tlie  happiness  of  angels  and  men  for  ever.  Angels 
now  desire  to  look  into  it ;  it  engages  the  hearts  and  the  harps  of 
the  spirits  of  just  men   made  perfect  ;  it  exalts  our  entire  nature,  | 

_„,]  :„    j.-.;_ -J  .. ^_    _.-j    _i ii.: .  /~>_i .l._  } 


and  is  destined  to  renovate  our  race,  and  change  this  vast  Golgotha 
into  a  redeemed  Eden,  to  bloom  in   peremiial   lovclip.ess  as  the  | 

garden  of  God.  i 

Sin  never  appears  so  sinful,  and  the  love  of  God  never  appears  | 

so  wonderful,  as  when  seen  through  the  medium  of  Christ  and  him  I 

crucified,   and  whether  we  contemplate  the  infinite  dignity  of  the  s 

."uftercr,  or  the  wonderful  effects  of  his  sufferings  on  the  ceaseless  | 

destinies  of  our  race,  we  are  lost  in  wonder,  love,  and  praise,  and 
the  rising  emotions  of  our  bosoms  constrain  us  to  cry  out  with  tlie 
beloved  Jolm,  "  Unto  him  that  hath  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from 
our  sins  in  liis  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests 
unto  God  and  his  Father ;  to  him  bo  glory  and  dominion  for  ever 
and  ever.     Amen."  .' 


General  History  of  lApii 


AuT.  III. — General  History  of  Civilization  in  Europe,  from  the  \ 

Fall  of  tie  Roman  Empire  to  the  French  Revolution,  translated  -j 

from,  the  French  of  M.  CIiizut.     First  American,   from  the  | 

second  English  Edition.     D.  Applcton  &  Co  :  New-York.  | 

Paris,  doubtless,  is  the  most  interesting  city  in  the  world,  and  ^ 

hence  France  is  the  most   interesting  countr_y.     Her  system  of  '\ 

public  instruction,  which,  taken  as  a  whole,  constitutes  the  univer-  \ 

sity  of  France,   is  better  calculated   to  produce  magnificent  and  j 

important  results  than  any  other  in  Europe.     Tlie  various  faculties  j 

of  the  university  arc  supported  at  the  public  expense,  and  their  'a 

lectures  are  accessible  to  all  without  charge.     The  professors  are  1 

frequently  peers  of  the  realm,  sometimes  ministers  of  state,  held  ^ 

in  the  gi-ealc.st  cslimation,  and  arc  considered  to  be  in  the  sure  | 

road  to  the  highest  preferment.     The  distinguished  statesman  and  | 

philosopher,  whose  s])lcndid  work  is  placed  at  the  head  of  this  | 

ai-ticle,  is  now  the  representative  of  the  French  nation  at  the  court  | 

of  St.  James.     He  delivered  these  lectures  while   professor    of  * 

history  to  the  facultj'  of  letters  of  Paris,   and  minister  of  public  ' 

instruction.     His   subject  is  the  most  interesting  and  iixiportant  of  j 

all  which  jircsenl  tlicmselves  for  the  study  of  the  philosoplier.    He  i 

inquires  into  the  origin,  progress,  and  character  of  European  civiU-  a 

zation.     There  is  a  vcrj'  striking  uniformity  in  the  civilization  of  3 

the  different  states  of  Em-opo,  because  it  has  flowed  to  them  all  | 

from  common  sources.     Hence  our  author  is  led  to  review  the  i 

principal  events  which  mark  the  character  of  the  principal  stales  ,; 

of  Europe  since  the  fall  of  the  western  empire.     He  comes  to  his  I 

task  with  great  advantages.     The  position  of  France,  his  own  posi-  ^ 

tion  in  France,  his  jirofound  and  varied  learning,  pointed  him  out  as  j| 

the  most  eligible  person  in  Europe  to  write  the  liistory  of  modern  | 

civilization.     He  says, —  1 

"The  situation  in  wliicli  wo   arc  placed,  as  Frcnchmcr),  aflbrds  us  | 

a  great  advantage  for  entorinj^  u]ion  the  study  of  European  civilization  ;  | 

for,  without  iiUrndinK  to  (laltrr  the  country  to  wliich  I  am  bound  hy  so  5 

many  tics,  I  cannot  but  regard  France  as  the  centre,  as  the  focus,  of  | 

tlic  civilization  of  Europe.  \ 

"Not  onlv  is  this  the  case,  but  those  ideas,  those  institutions  which 
promote  civilizatidu,  but  «bo'!(-  liirth  must  be  referred  to  other  coun- 
tries, have,  before  thev  could  bi'conu"  ijcneral,  or  produce  fruit — before 
tliey  could  be  iransiilanlcd  to  otlur  lauds,  or  benefit  the  common  stock 
of  European  civilization,  been  obliged  to  undergo   in  France  a  new 


1841.]  Civilization  in  MoHcrn  Europe.  223 

pri'paration  :  it  is  from  France,  as  from  a  second  countiy  more  ricli 
and  fcrlile,  tlial  tliev  have  started  forth  to  make  tlie  conquestof  Europe. 
There  is  not  a  single  great  idea,  not  a  single  great  principle  of  civili- 
zation, whicli,  in  order  to  become  universally  spread,  has  not  first 
passed  through  France. 

"  'J'here  is,  indeed,  in  the  genius  of  the  French,  something  of  a 
soeialileness,  of  a  sympathy — something  which  spreads  itself  with 
more  facility  and  energj',  than  in  the  genius  of  any  other  people  :  it 
may  he  in  the  language,  or  the  particular  turn  of  mind  of  the  French 
nation  ;  it  may  he  in  their  manners,  or  that  their  ideas,  being  more 
])opiilar,  present  themselves  more  clearly  to  the  masses,  penetrate 
iimong  them  with  gri'ater  ease  ;  but,  in  a  word,  clearness,  sociability, 
sjniipathy,  are  the  particular  characteristics  of  P'rance,  of  its  civiliza- 
tion ;  and  these  qualities  render  it  eminently  qualified  to  march  at  the 
head  of  European  civilization." — Pp.  14,  15. 

The  somcc  whence  he  obtains  his  definition  of  civilization 
discloses  a  truth  to  wliich  too  httle  attention  is  paid  by  tlie  learned 
world.  Men  of  education,  when  tliej'  wish  to  define  an  expression 
or  word  of  general  interest,  too  frequently  give  it  a  scientific  defi- 
nition, instead  of  adiiiitling  its  popular  signification. 

"  So,  in  the  investigation  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  civilization  as 
a  fact— by  seeking  out  all  the  ideas  it  comprises,  according  to  the 
common  sense  of  mankind,  we  shall  arrive  much  nearer  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  fact  itself,  than  by  attempting  to  give  our  o^vn  scientific 
definition  of  it,  though  tliis  might  at  first  appear  more  clear  and  pre- 
cise."—Pp.  19,  20. 

After  using  a  series  of  hypotheses  in  order  to  ascertain  what  is 
the  meaning  of  civilization  "  according  to  the  common  sense  of 
mankind,"  our  author  gives  the  following  as  the  result  of  liis  in- 
quiries : — 

"  Two  clenn-nts,  then,  seem  to  be  comprised  in  the  great  fact  which 
we  call  civilization  ;  two  circumstances  are  necessary  to  its  existence 
—it  lives  upon  two  conditions— it  reveals  itself  by  two  symptoms  :  the 
jirogrcss  of  Miciety,  the  progress  of  individuals  ;  tlic  amelioration  of 
ihi'  social  sy-iem,  and  the  expansion  of  the  mind  and  faculties  of  man. 
\\  h'rever  the  exterior  condition  of  man  becomes  enlarged,  quickened, 
and  improved  ;  wherever  the  intellectual  nature  of  man  distinguishes 
itsidf  by  its  energv',  brilliancy,  and  its  grandeur  ;  wherever  these  two 
signs  concur,  and  they  often  do  so,  notwithstanding  the  gravest  imper- 
fections in  the  social  system,  there  man  proclaims  and  applauds  civili- 
zation."—P.  25. 

Neither  of  these  two  elements  can  exist  and  be  active  without 
sooner  or  later  producing  tlic  oilier.  Our  author  appeals  to  history 
for  llic  proof  of  this  proposition  : — 


224  General  Tlislory  of  [A})ril, 

■  "If  wc  now  examine  tlie  liislory  of  the  world  we  shall  have  the 
same  result.  We  shall  liiid  that  every  expansion  of  human  intelliecnee 
has  proved  of  advantage  to  society  ;  and  that  all  the  great  advances  in 
the  social  condition  have  turned  Ui  the  profit  of  humanity.  One  or 
other  of  these  facts  may  predominate,  niay  shine  forth  with  greater 
splendor  for  a  season,  and  impress  upon  tlie  niovemeiit  its  ovrci  parti- 
cular character.  At  times,  it  may  not  be  till  al'tcr  the  lapse  of  a  long 
interval,  after  a  thousand  transformations,  a  thousand  obstacles,  that 
the  second  shows  itself,  and  comes,  as  it  were,  to  complete  the  civili- 
zation which  the  first  had  begun  ;  but  when  we  look  closely  we  easily 
recognize  the  link  by  which  tliey  arc  connected.  The  movements  of 
providence  are  not  reslricted  to  narrow  bounds:  it  is  not  anxious  to 
deduce  to-day  the  ronsequ<Mice  of  the  premises  it  laid  down  yesterday. 
It  may  defer  this  fur  ages,  till  the  fulness  of  time  shall  come.  Its  logic 
will  not  be  less  eenrlusivL'  for  reasoning  slowly.  Providence  moves 
through  time,  a-:  ilir  I'ods  of  Homer  through  space — it  makes  a  step, 
and  ages  have  rollril  away!  How  long  a  time,  how  many  ciremii- 
slances  intervi-ned.  hrfori'  the  regeneration  of  the  moral  powers  of 
man,  by  C'hrisiianily,  exercised  its  great,  its  legitimate  influence  upon 
his  social  condition  \    Yet  who  can  doubt  or  mistake  its  power  ? 

"  If  wo  pass  from  history  to  the  nature  itself  of  the  two  facts  which 
constitute  civilization,  we  are  infallibly  led  to  the  same  resiUt.  We 
have  all  experienced  this.  If  a  )nan  makes  a  mental  advance,  some 
mental  discovery,  if  he  acquires  some  new  idea,  or  some  new  faculty. 
what  is  the  desire  that  takes  possession  of  him  at  the  very  moment  he 
makes  it?  It  is  the  desire  to  pronudgate  his  sentiment  to  the  exterior 
world— to  publish  and  realize  his  tliouyht.  When  a  man  acquires  a 
new  truth — when  his  being  in  his  own  eyes  has  made  an  advance,  has 
acquired  a  new  L'ifl.  iimnediately  there  beromes  joined  to  this  acquire- 
ment the  notion  of  a  mission.  He  feels  obliged,  impelled,  as  it  were. 
by  a  secret  interest,  to  extend,  to  carry  out  of  himself  the  change,  the 
amelioration  which  lias  been  aceoniplished  within  him.  To  what,  but 
this,  do  we  owe  the  exertions  of  great  reformers  ?  The  exertions  of 
those  great  benefactors  of  the  htmian  race,  who  have  changed  the  face 
of  the  world,  after  having  first  been  changed  themselves,  have  been 
stimulated  and  governed  by  no  other  impitlse  than  this." — Pp.  28,  29. 

In  the  second  lecture  wc'liavc  an  able  illustration  of  the  distin- 
guisliing  cliaracterislics  of  ancient  and  modern  civilizations ;  the 
elements  wliich  have  entered  into  the  formation  of  the  latter,  atid 
its  vast  superiority  over  tlic  fonner.  The  distinguishing  feature 
in  all  the  civilizations  of  ancient  nations  vi-as,  their  strict  simplicity, 
tints  showing  clearly  that  they  sprang  from  the  predominance  of 
one  single  principle.  There  is  no  doubt  but  tliat  other  principles 
were  active  in  their  early  stages,  but  some  one  became  predominant 
by  the  deslriiction  of  all  others,  and  thus  impressed  a  single  cha- 
racter uj)on  society.  The  impression  was  rapidly  made,  and  ex- 
hibited great  power  and  splendor,  but  was  of  short  duration.     It 


1S41.]  Civilization  in  Modern  El/rope.  225 

citlior  was  extinguished  by  the  vehemence  and  bririiancy  of  its  own 
dc\clopnieiit,  as  in  Greece,  or  became  stationary,  and  sunk  into 
quiet  and  inactivity,  as  in  India  and  China.  Some  of  llic  predomi- 
nant principles,  which  controlled  the  developments  of  the  ancient 
civilizations,  were,  the  theocratic  principle,  in  Egj'pt,  India,  and 
A?:ia  generally;  the  democratic,  in  the  commercial  republics, 
situated  at  different  points  on  the  Jlediterranean,  and  in  Syria ; 
the  social,  as  in  Greece.  The  aristocratic  pruiciple,  considered 
separately  from  the  theocratic,  as  it  now  appeal's  in  Europe,  did 
not  operate  in  the  development  of  the  ancient  civilizations.  If  was 
introduced  by  northern  barbarians  in  the  form  of  military  chieftain-  -| 

ships,  to  which  were  added  landed  estates  upon  the  conquest  of  \ 

the  Roman  empu-e ;  and  in  process  of  time  both  the  estates  and  \ 

the   titles  became  hereditarj- ;  and,   hence,  a  hereditary  nobility.  i 

Referring  to  the  predominance  of  some  one  principle,  our  author  I 

says,-  I 

"■  Fridii   this   cause  a    remarkable  unity    characterizes  most  of  the  i 

civili'/iilidiis  of  antiquity,  the   results  of  which,  however,  were  very  1 

(lilTrruiit.     In  one  nation,  as  in  Greece,  the  unity  of  the  social  principle  i 

led  to  a  dcvolopnieut  of  wonderful  rapidity  ;  no  other  people  ever  ran  j 

so  brilliant  a  career  in  so  short  a  tunc.  But  Greece  had  hardly  be- 
como  glorious,  before  she  appeared  worn  out :  her  decline,  if  not  quite 
so  rajiid  as  her  rise,  was  stranfjely  sudden.  It  seems  as  if  the  prin- 
ciple which  called  Greek  civilization  (into  life)  was  exhausted.  No 
ollior  came  to  iuiioorate  it,  or  supply  its  place. 

"  hi  other  .states,  sjy,  for  example,  in  India  and  Egypt,  where  again 
only  one  principle  of  civilization  prevailed,  the  result  was  diflerent. 
Socicly  liere  liecame  slationary,  simplicity  produced  monotony:  the 
country  was  not  destroy I'd  ;  society  continued  to  exist ;  but  there  was 
lU)  j)ro;.;res>iuu  ;   it  renKiined  torpid  and  inactive. 

'•  To  this  same  cause  must  be  attributed  that  character  of  tyranny 
which  prevailed,  under  various  names,  and  the  most  opposite  forms, 
in  all  the  civilizations  of  antiquity.  Society  belonged  to  one  exclusive 
power,  wliieh  could  bear  with  nu'other.  Every  principle  of  a  dillerent 
'emliMicy  was  proscribed.  The  governing  principle  would  nowhere 
sullVr  bv  its  side  the  manifestation  aiul  inlluence  of  a  rival  principle." 
—  P.  38. 

European  civilization,  while  it  bears  a  general  resemblance  in 
all  Christian  nations,  is  distinguished  from  ancient  civilization  by 
its  f^reat  diversity  of  character,  owing  to  the  diversity  of  elements 
which  enter  into  its  formation.  These  elements  arc  permanently 
active,  conflicting  with,  and  correcting  each  other.  Hence,  while 
the  ancient  civilizations  were  rapidly  developed,  of  short  duration, 


226  General  History  of  [April, 

and  ended  always  in  despotism,  that  of  Europe  has  already  been 

in  progress  more  than  fifteen  hundred  years  with  increasing  ac-  | 

tivity,  and  a  wider  and  briglitcr  prospect  still  open  before  it.     The  1 

conflicts  of  its  .various  principles  tend  to  liberty,  by  preventing  the  | 

prevalence  of  one  to  the  destruction  of  all  others.     Hence  govern-  .] 

ment  in   Europe   and  America  has   been   successively  improved  i 

through  all   its   natural  stages  from   absolute   despotism,    which  | 

existed  not  long  since  in  Russia,  to  a  well-balanced  republic  which  ] 

•we  enjoy  in  this  country.     This  interesting  view  is  very  graphically  | 

sketclicd  by  our  author  where  he  contrasts  ancient  and  modern  ] 

civilization : —  | 

"  How  (liflcrcnt  Id  nil  tliis  is  llic  case  as  respects  the  civilization  of  ? 

modern  Europe  !     T;ilvC  ever  so  rapid  a  glance  at  tliis,  and  it  strikes  i 

you  at  once   as  divcrsilied,  contused,  and  stormy.     All  the   principles  I 

of  social   organization  are  foimd  existing  together  within   it;  powers  l 

temporal,  powers  spiritual,  the  theocratic,  monarchic,  aristocratic,  and  | 

domocrulic  elements,  all  classes   of  societ)-,  all  the   social  situations,  | 

are  jumbled  togctlier,  ;incl  visililc  within  it;  as  well  as  infinite  grada-  J 

tions  of  liberty,  o{  wv.xhU,  and  of  influence.  These  various  powers, 
too,  arc  found  here  in  a  sl.ito  of  continual  struggle  among  themselves, 
without  any  one  h:nii!L'  sutliciont  force  to  master  the  others,  and  lake 
sole  possession  of  soeiety.  Among  the  ancients,  at  every  great  epoch, 
all  communities  secni  cast  in  the  same  mold  :  it  was  now  pure 
monarchy,  now  theocracy  or  democracy,  that  became  the  reigning 
principle,  each  in  its  turn  reigning  absolutely.  But  modern  Europe 
contains  examples  of  all  these  systems,  of  all  the  attempts  at  social 
organization  ;  pure  and  mixed  monarchies,  theocracies,  republics  more 
or  less  aristocratic,  all  live  in  common,  side  by  side,  at  one  and  the 
same  time  ;  yet,  notwithstanding  their  diversity,  they  all  bear  a  certain 
resemblance  to  each  other,  a  kind  of  family  likeness  which  it  is 
impossible  to  mistake,  and  which  shows  them  to  be  essentially 
European." 

"  'i'lie  inability  of  tlie  various  principles  to  exterminate  one  another 
compelled  each  to  endure  the  others,  made  it  necessary  for  them  to 
live  in  connnon,  for  them  to  enter  into  a  sort  of  mutual  understanding. 
Each  consented  to  have  only  that  part  of  civilization  which  fell  to  its 
share.  Tluis,  while  everywhere  else  the  predominance  of  one  prin- 
ciple has  produced  t\Tauny,  the  variety  of  elements  of  European 
civilization,  and  llie  constant  warfare  in  which  they  have  been  en- 
gaged, have  given  birth  in  Europe  to  that  liberty  which  we  prize  so 
dearly."— Pp.  39,  41,  42. 

It  will  assist  our  view  of  the  various  clcmenls  of  modern  civili- 
zation to  look  into  the  interior  constitution  of  the  Roman  empire. 
Wc  shall  find  this  vast  fabric  of  govcrimicnl  fomided  entirely  upon 
ihc  municipal  principle. 


18-11.]  Civilization  in  Modern  Europe.  227 

"  Rome  in  ils  origin  was  a  mere  municipaliiy,  a  corporation.  The 
Roman  Kovornnient  was  nothing  more  than  an  assemblage  of  institu- 
tions siiitahle  to  a  population  inclosed  within  the  walls  of  a  city  ;  that 
is  to  say,  they  were  muincipal  institutions  ;  this  was  their  distinctive 
character. 

"  This  was  not  peculiar  to  Rome.  If  we  look,  in  this  period,  at  the 
part  of  Italy  which  surrounded  Rome,  we  find  notliing  but  cities.  What 
were  then  called  nations  were  nothing  more  than  confederations  of 
cities.  The  Latin  nation  was  a  confederation  of  Latin  cities.  The 
Etrurians,  the  Samnites,  the  Sabines,  the  nations  of  Magna  Gra^cia, 
were  all  composed  in  the  same  way. 

"  At  this  time  there  were  no  country  places,  no  villages  ;  at  least 
the  country  was  nothing  like  what  it  is  in  the  present  day.  It  w-as 
cultivated,  no  doubt,  but  it  was  not  peopled.  The  proprietors  of  lands 
and  of  country  estates  dwelt  in  cities  ;  they  left  these  occasionally  to 
visit  their  rural  property,  where  they  usually  kept  a  certain  numljer  of 
slaves  ;  but  that  which  we  now  call  the  country,  that  scattered  popu- 
lation, sometimes  in  lone  houses,  sometimes  in  hamlets  and  villages, 
and  which  evcrj-where  dots  our  land  with  agricultural  dwellings,  was 
altogether  unknown  in  ancient  Italy. 

''  And  what  was  the  case  when  Rome  extended  her  boundaries  ?  If 
we  follow  her  history,  we  shall  find  that  she  conquered  or  founded  a 
host  of  cities.  It  was  with  cities  she  fought,  it  was  with  cities  she 
treated,  it  was  into  cities  she  sent  colonies.  In  short,  the  history  of 
the  conquest  of  the  world  by  Rome  is  the  historj'  of  the  conquest  and 
foimdation  of  a  vast  number  of  cities.  It  is  true  that  in  the  East  the 
extension  of  the  Roman  dominion  bore  somewhat  of  a  difi'erent  cha- 
racter ;  the  population  was  not  distributed  there  in  the  same  Avay  as  in 
the  western  world  ;  it  was  luidcr  a  social  system,  partaking  more  of 
the  patriarchal  form,  and  was  consequently  much  less  concentrated  in 
cities.  But,  as  we  have  only  to  do  with  the  population  of  Europe,  I 
shall  not  dwell  upon  what  relates  to  that  of  the  East. 

"  Confining  ourselves,  then,  to  the  West,  we  shall  find  the  fact  to  be 
such  as  I  have  described  it.  In  the  Gauls,  in  Spain,  we  meet  with 
nothing  but  cities.  At  any  distance  from  these,  the  countr)"  consisted 
of  marshes  and  forests.  Examine  the  character  of  the  monuments  left 
us  of  ancient  Rome — the  old  Roman  roads.  We  find  gi-eat  roads  ex- 
lending  from  city  to  city;  but  the  thousands  of  little  by-paths,  which 
now  intersect  every  part  of  the  country,  were  then  unknown.  Neither 
do  we  find  any  traces  of  that  immense  number  of  lesser  objects — of 
churches,  castles,  country  seats,  and  villages,  which  were  spread  all 
over  the  country  during  the  middle  ages.  Rome  has  left  no  traces  of 
this  kind  ;  her  only  bequest  consists  of  va.st  monuments  impressed  with 
a  municipal  character,  destined  for  a  numerous  population,  crowded 
into  a  single  spot.  In  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  the  Roman 
world,  you  meet  with  tliis  almost  exclusive  preponderance  of  cities, 
and  an  absence  of  country  populations  and  dwellings." — Pp.  43-15. 

The  life  of  this  municipal  organization  was  the  mililar}'  adminis- 
Iralion,  cinanaling  from  the  capital  and  extending  to  the  extremities 


228  General  History  of  [April, 

of  tlie  empire,  whicli  gradually  sunk  under  tlic  combined  operation 
of  t\\o  causes ;  tlie  one  internal,  the  other  external.  The  former 
was  the  extension  of  the  empire,  and  the  concentration  of  the  pro- 
vincial interests  in  their  respective  towns  and  cities ;  the  latter 
was  the  repeated  inroads,  and,  ullimalcly,  the  numerous  settlements 
of  the  barbarians  from  the  north.  The  Roman  world  was  formed 
of  cities,  and  upon  its  dissolution,  to  cities  it  returned  again.  The 
dissolution  of  the  empire  imparted  additional  activity  and  force  to 
the  municipal  authorities,  and  as  soon  as  the  cities  perceived  the 
imperial  pressure  removed,  they  felt  and  asserted  their  liberty. 
This  train  of  events  laid  the  foundation  of  the  states  and  liberties 
of  Europe. 

During  four  centuries,  in  which,  as  we  have  seen,  the  empire  was 
first  consolidated,  then  convulsed,  and  finally  resolved  into  its  ori- 
ginal parts,  a  new  and  powerful  element  of  civihzation  was  infused 
into  the  whole  jjopulation.  Christianity  had  been  gradually  influ- 
encing tlie  dispositions  and  opinions  of  men,  and  the  statue  and 
altar  of  victory  had  been  removed  from  the  capital.  A  majority  of 
the  Roman  senate  voted  an  application  to  Theodosius  the  Great  to 
restore  them.  \Miereupon  the  question  was  fully  debated  in  open 
senate  by  Symmachus  in  favor  of  victor}^  and  Ambrose,  arch- 
bishop of  Milan,  in  favor  of  Christianity ;  and  when  the  question 
was  solemnly  put,  whether  the  worship  of  Jesus  Christ  or  of  Jupiter 
should  he  the  religion  of  the  Romans,  Jove  was  degraded  and  con- 
demned by  a  large  majority.  The  decision  of  the  senate  was 
ratified  by  the  people  everywhere,  and  the  Roman  world  became 
Christian,  and  idolatry  ceased  in  Europe.  The  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity in  producing  modern  civilization  will  be  considered  in  ex- 
tcnso  in  a  subsequent  part  of  this  paper. 

Scarcely  had  Christ  ianily  t)eci.ime  fairly  established  when  the 
empire  fell  with  a  tremendous  crash  under  the  shock  of  the  Goth, 
the  Vandal,  the  llun,  the  Frank,  and  the  Heruli.  These  barbarians 
introduced  a  third  clement,  which  extensively  influenced  the  develop- 
ments of  European  society,  "  the  sentiments  of  personal  inde- 
pendence and  loyalty."  The  fust  was  felt  and  acted  upon  by  the 
chiefs  and  leaders  of  the  invading  liords  from  the  north  ;  and  they 
became  the  dukes,  counts,  marqiiises,  and  great  barons  :  the  second 
was  felt  by  the  populace  which  followed  their  standards,  and  became 
their  devoted  vassals.     In  these  events  we  find  the  foundations  of 


1S41.]  Civilization  in  jModeni  Europe.  229 

llic  fcud.il  S3'stcm,  wliicli  was  characterized,  as  a  legitimale  conse- 
quence, by  violence  and  private  war. 

In  the  lliird  lecture  our  author  discusses  the  question  of  jjolitical 
legitimacy,  and  shows  tliat  all  the  vaa-ious  systems  of  civilization 
laid  claim  to  it. 

The  expressed  and  alleged  idea  of  this  political  legituiiacy  is, 
evidently,  nothing  more  than  a  right  founded  upon  antiquity,  upon 
duration.  Yet  if  we  examine  the  origin  of  the  power  which  claims 
10  be  legitimate  we  shall  fuid  that  it  owes  its  existence  to  force. 
This  is  so  generally  true  that  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  political 
maxim,  that  tlie  origin  of  all  power  is  to  be  referred  to  force.  This 
origin  however  no  one  will  acknowledge.  There  is  in  man  and  in 
stales  a  permanent  consciousness,  that  force  is  not  the  ultimate 
source  of  true  legitimacy.  There  is  a  higher  fountain  from  which 
every  government  claims  to  derive  its  powers :  a  fountain  which 
links  with  the  divine  Being  directly  or  remotely.  Hence  kings 
claim  to  vuh,  jure  divino ;  and  the  papal  power  is  founded  in  a 
grant  assumed  to  have  been  made  by  Christ  to  St.  Peter  ;  and  the 
immortal  Dcckaation  of  American  Independence  refers  to  this  source 
no  less  than  four  times.  Thus  the  proper  idea  of  political  legitimacy 
is  essentially  moral,  including  the  elements  of  justice,  intelligence, 
and  truth.  Its  development  is  not  necessarily  uniform :  it  may 
appear  under  the  forms  and  appointments  of  monarcliy,  of  a  re- 
public, of  a  democracy  ;  thus  giving  much  countenance  to  that 
beautifully  expressed  idea  of  an  excellent  poet : — 

"  The  best  administcr'd  government  is  best." 

In  saying  this  much  we  do  not  mean  to  admit  that  one  form  of 
povcrniuent  is  not  better  than  another;  but  simply  to  announce  a 
well-;itlr?ted  fact. 

These  different  forms  of  development,  existing  in  Europe  at  the 
same  time,  and  side  by  side,  distinguish  the  modern  from  the 
ancient  civilization.  The  latter,  as  we  have  seen,  was  always 
founded  upon  the  development  and  ascendency  of  a  single  principle ; 
ihe  former,  upon  them  all  at  once  ;  each  principle  and  form  en- 
•'.eavoring  to  reconstruct  and  appropriate  society  to  itself,  without 
bi  ing  able  to  do  it.  Thus  the  barbarians  in  the  south  of  Gaul,  and 
in  Italy,  made  the  effort  on  the  monarchical  principle  ;  the  free  cities 
in  Ccrmany,  and  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  onthemuni- 

VoJL.  I. — 15 


230  General  Jlistoiij  of  [April, 

cipal  principle ;  tlie  church  iu  8p:iii),  on  the  theocratic  jirin- 
ciple ;  Charlemagne,  in  France,  on  the  imperial  principle  ; 
and  the  great  nobles  and  barons,  on  the  feudal  principle.  Our 
author  gives  full  and  interesting  illustrations  of  all  these  various 
attempts  to  reorganize  and  possess  societj^ ;  but  we  cannot  follow 
him  further,  except  to  dilate  on  the  influence  of  Christianity  as  an 
clement  of  civilization.  In  doing  this  wc  sliall  deviate  from  the 
path  of  our  author,  lie  considers  the  church  solely  as  "  an  eccle- 
siastical society — the  Christian  hierarchy."  We  wish  to  consider 
the  question,  not  in  reference  to  the  chiuch  as  "  an  ecclesiastical 
society,"  but  in  reference  to  Christianity  as  a  religious  system, 
that  is,  the  doctrines,  precepts,  and  divine  institutions  of  Christianity. 
Our  object  is  to  call  atlctUion  to  the  value  of  religion  to  society ; 
and  to  convince  tlu;  reader  that  Christianity  lias  been  and  must 
continue  to  be  the  n:ost  efficient  element  in  producing  modern 
civilization. 

In  order  to  sujiport  this  important  conclusion,  it  would  be  sufK- 
cient  to  sliow,  from  the  actual  stale  of  the  world,  that  those  portions 
of  it  where  Christianity  jirevails,  are  far  more  advanced  in  civiliza- 
tion than  those  portions  where  it  does  not.  But  we  will  also  pro- 
duce some  of.  the  principal  facts  in  the  history  of  civilization  to 
sliow  that  Christianity  has  been  the  cause  of  this  difference ;  and 
in  conclusion,  show  from  the  principles  and  institutions  of  Christian- 
ity that  they  must  liavc  had,  .and  must  continue  to  have  this  effect. 

In  examining  the  condition  of  different  portions  of  the  earth  in 
reference  to  this  question,  wc  are  not  now  to  look  for  the  causes  of 
their  civilization,  but  for  the  evidences  of  the  degrees  in  which  it 
exists.  And  we  cannot  doubt  but  it  will  be  found  to  exist  in  higlier 
dcgi-ees  nearly  in  proportion  to  tlie  presence  and  prevalence  of 
Christianity.  The  cliief  evidences  of  civilization  in  a  com- 
munity, are. 

The  abundance  of  the  comforts  of  life. 

The  security  of  properly,  person,  and  chai-acter. 

Tiie  diffusion  of  knowledge,  morals,  and  public  spirit. 

The  security  and  sanctity  of  the  domestic  relations. 

A  liigh  state  of  the  arts.     And, 

Good  government,  securing  equal  rights  and  privileges  to  all. 

Victor  Cousin,  a  celebrated  French  \\Titer,  in  liis  History  of 
Philosophy,  gives  nearly  the  same  statement  of  the  evidences  of 


1841.]  CivUizaiion  in  Modern  Europe.  231 

civilization.  It  diflers  from  the  slatcmcnt  given  above  in  tliis — it 
designates  tlic  elementary  principles  front  which  the  fruits  of 
civilization  have  sprung,  which  fruits  we  have  produced  as  its 
evidence.  His  statement  is  more  strictly  philosopliicnl,  andislicre 
presented,  ;is  it  will  afford  to  some  a  clearer  view. 

The  idea  of  the  useful,  producing  industry  and  the  practical 
sciences,  mathematics,  physics,  and  political  economy. 

The  idea  of  the  just,  producing  civil  society,  the  state,  and  juris- 
prudence. 

The  idea  of  the' beautiful,  producing  Wicfine  arts. 

The  idea  of  God,  producing  religion  and  worship  ;  and. 

The  idea  of  the  true,  producing  philosophy. 

This  beautiful  statement  of  the  progress  of  civilization  shows 
that  its  origin  is  not  in  the  forms  and  institutions  of  society  and 
goverimicnt,  but  in  the  mind,  which  gives  birth  lo  great  ideas,  that 
contain  the  relations  bj'-  which  individuals  are  incoqioraled  into 
society,  'i'liesc  ideas  are  imbodied  in  the  relations  of  community, 
develoj)ing  themselves  in  its  laws  and  institutions.  How  important 
llicn  is  the  education  of  the  private  and  public  mind  !  How  essen- 
tial that  it  be  perfectly  free,  that  it  may  discover  and  give  form  and 
activity  to  those  natural  elements  which  God  has  ordained  for  the 
endless  improvement  of  man  !  Let  us  now  take  a  rapid  survey  of 
some  of  the  nations  of  the  earth  in  order  to  ascertain  ivhcrc  these 
essential  evidences  of  civilization  e.xist,  and  where  they  exist  in  the 
greatest  degree. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  us  in  this  sm-vey  is,  that  no  one  pos- 
sesses them  all  where  Christianity  does  not  exist.  And  upon  a 
careful  survey  of  Christiayi  nations  these  evidences  of  civilization 
will  be  found  to  exist  in  proportion  to  the  prevalence  of  the  purer 
forms  of  Christianity.  If  these  two  facts  can  be  established,  the 
value  of  Christianity  as  a)i  essential  element  of  civilization  will 
appear  exceedingly  probable. 

In  prosecuting  this  comparison,  we  shall  pass  by  those  nations  in 
whicli  we  might  sec  humanity  in  its  most  revolting  and  degraded 
conditions.  We  shall  not  take  advantage  in  this  argument  of  a 
comparison  of  these  nations  with  the  nations  of  Christendom.  But 
we  will  select  the  most  favored  and  highly  cultivated  pagan  coun- 
tries, and  try  the  comparison  between  these  and  Christian  Europe. 
We  may  name  China,  India,  Japan,  and  the  Ottoman  empire. 


232  General  Ilislory  of  [April, 

Wc  must  suppose  the  reader  lo  lie  so  well  acquainted  with  llio 
civilization  of  Christian  countries  as  to  render  unnecessary  any 
illustrative  remarks  on  this  side  of  the  comparison.  Our  inquiries 
will  therefore  relate  to  the  social  and  civil  condition  of  the  coun- 
tries on  tlic  other  side. 

The  first  evidence  of  civilization  is  the  abundance  of  the  com- 
forts of  life.  The  commercial  intercourse  of  Christians  with  China 
and  India  is  calculated  to  make  a  very  erroneous  impression  witli 
respect  to  the  general  possession  of  these  by  the  mass  of  the  people. 
Our  ships  and  our  commercial  representatives  and  agents  have 
access  to  but  a  single  city  in  the  vast  empire  of  China.  And  from 
the  wealth  and  splendor  which  are  seen  at  this  great  commercial 
point,  but  more  particularly  from  the  general  association  in  the 
European  mind,  of  wealth  and  comfort,  we  are  hurried  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  tlic  tlucc  hundred  millions  of  Chinese  are  well  fed, 
and  well  clothed,  and  well  housed.  We  forget  that  the  concen- 
Irated  wealth  and  sj)!endor  at  Canton  and  Peking,  and  other  large 
cities,  may  be,  nay,  must  be  the  fruits  of  much  toil,  misery,  and 
opjjrcssion,  among  the  laboring  population.  And  if  we  look  into 
tlic  interior  even  by  the  liltlc  light  which  a  few  intrepid  travelers 
and  devoted  missionaries  have  shed  upon  the  condition  of  the  people, 
wc  shall  see  humiliating  evidences  of  this  fact. 

All  accounts  agree  that  cvciy  fool  of  land  which  is  accessible 
and  can  be  rendered  aralilc,  by  any  means,  is  put  under  cultivation, 
without  reference  to  the  expense  of  time  or  labor  ;  every  substance 
wliich  can  by  any  process  be  decomposed  and  converted  into 
manure  to  sustain  tlic  soil,  is  carefully  treasured  up ;  and  yet  if 
there  is  any  marked  diminution  in  the  harvests,  a  famine  to  a  con- 
siderable extent  ensues,  since  from  the  close  policy  of  the  govern- 
ment with  respect  to  foreign  commerce,  sufficient  supplies  cannot 
be  introduced  from  abroad.  That  there  is  a  scant)-  supply  when 
the  har\-csts  arc  most  abundant  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact,  that 
there  is  no  exportation  of  the  arlirles  which  constitute  the  common 
comforts  of  hfc.  To  all  this  wc  may  add  the  well-attested  fact, 
mentioned  by  ]\Inltc  Brun,  and  the  English  embassy,  under  Lord 
M'Carlncy,  that  the  poor  cat  cvciy  thing  they  can  find;  all  sorts 
of  animals,  iuid  even  such  as  have  died  by  disease.  In  so  popu- 
lous a  countrj',  he  adds,  this  practice  may  find  the  excuse  of 
necessity. 


1  SI  1.1  CivUizalion  in  jSlodcrn  Europe.  233 

If  \vc  turn  our  attention  to  India,  we  sliall  find  the  general  popu- 
lation in  a  still  more  deplorable  condition,  iii  reference  to  the  com- 
mon comforts  of  life.  There  is  not  only  m.  China  and  India  a 
prevailing  scarcity  of  these  blessings  among  the  people,  but  the 
various  conveniences,  such  as  plates,  knives,  forks,  chairs,  tables, 
and  table  linen,  with  the  accidents  and  ornaments  which  give 
warmth  and  pleasure,  and  even  a  simple  elegance  to  the  enjoyments 
of  society  in  Christian  countries,  are  enlirel)'  luiknown  to  them.  If 
it  could  be  aflirmed  that  they  had  bread  and  plenty  of  it,  wliich  is 
the  foundation  of  all  civilization,  yet  no  one  will  pretend  that  they 
have  the  variety  and  delicacy  of  food  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
consider  a  very  decisive  evidence  of  it. 

In  connection  with  the  supply  of  the  comforts  of  life,  it  is  proper 
to  jiolicc  the  means  of  producing  them.  With  chmale  and  soil 
wliich  produce  almost  of  themselves,  and  in  many  cases  two  crops 
per  annmn,  yet  the  expenditure  of  human  labor  in  proportion  to 
the  amount  produced  is  vastl}'  more  in  pagan  than  in  Clu'islian 
countries.  This  is  owing  to  the  small  number  and  rudeness  of  the 
implements  of  husbiuulry  and  manufacture  in  the  former,  and  their 
great  variety  and  perfection  in  the  latter.  Such  a  thing  as  a  good 
English  or  American  plough,  or  harrow,  or  wagon,  or  fiouruig 
mill  is  unknovra  in  countries  not  Christian.  The  dry  and  capa- 
cious barn  and  secure  gi-anaiy  are  unknown.  The  same  remark 
holds  still  more  strongly  in  manufacturing  operations  and  mechanical 
pursuits.  Can  the  jjagan  or  Mohammedan  world  produce  a  single 
instance  of  a  well-regulated  and  well-a])poinled  cotton  or  cloth  mill, 
or  metal  foundries,  orany  of  those  wonderful  and  complex  mechanical 
establishments  which  distinguish  Christian  countries,  and  administer 
to  tlio  wants,  the  comforts,  and  the  pleasures  of  the  inhabitants? 
Nolliing  of  the  kind  is  to  be  found  out  of  Ghi-istendom,  and  inde- 
pendent of  Christian  influence.  In  the  course  of  three  thousand 
years  the  pagan  world  has  produced  four  articles,  which  have 
excited  the  admiration  of  Europe,  and  have  not  been  successfully 
imil.ated  :  the  carpets  of  Persia  ;  die  muslins  of  India  ;  the  porce- 
lain of  China ;  and  the  lackered  work  of  Japan.  But  it  is  to  be 
remembered,  these  are  the  products  of  three  thousand  years'  expe- 
rience, during  which  time  patience  has  sat  toiling  to  accomplish 
the  same  object.  It  has  been  only  a  few  years  comparatively  since 
Ciirislian  Europe  began  to  miitate  these  rare  productions  of  Asia, 


234  General  History  of  [April, 

and  she  is  but  barely  inferior  nl  the  present  time,  and  the  next  im- 
provement, or  the  next  patent,  maj'  place  her  in  the  advance.  But  | 
what  strikes  us  most  forcibl)-  in  this  comparison  is,  the  means  by  * 
which  she  produces  her  results,  and  the  amount  produced  in  pro-  ? 
portion  to  the  number  of  persons  employed,  resulting  in  a  vast  | 
economy  of  human  labor.  While  in  countries  not  Christian,  the  ] 
principal  and  almost  only  agents  are  the  natural  powers  of  the  \ 
o])erators,  aided  by  a  few  simple  instruments  ;  in  Christiaji  coun-  ] 
tries  the  jjrincijial  agent  is  machinery-,  almost  instinct  with  life,  and  | 
needing  only  the  occasional  control  of  reason  and  skill.  In  India  \ 
the  seed  is  separated  from  the  cotton  by  hand.  In  America  the  i 
cotton  gin  is  set  in  motion  by  the  power  of  steam,  and  the  attendant  \ 
looks  on  at  his  ease,  while  his  day's  work  produces  a  thousand  fold  \ 
more  than  the  Indian's.  In  India,  the  fme  and  delicate  thread  is  3 
drawn  and  woven  by  ininuncrablc  hands,  applied  with  a  patience  | 
which  excites  our  admiration.  In  England  and  America  the  spin-  | 
ning  jenny  and  the  power  loom,  under  the  direction  of  a  child  and  a  \ 
man,  produce  manifold  more  than  the  same  amoimt  of  time  and  3 
labor  in  Intlia.  I 

This  first  cvi'.lence  of  civilization  includes  also  good  lodging.  \ 

We  shall  look  in  vain  among  the  vast  operative  population  of  Asia,  1 

in  the  most  favored   spots,  for  the  neat  appearance,   convenient  | 

apartments,  and  warm  and  comfortable  appliances  of  an  English  | 

cottage,  or  an  American  fann  house.     Such  an  evidence  of  civili-  | 

zation,  with  all  its  delicate  and  tender  attributes  and  accidents,  is  I 

well  entitled  to  the  appellation  of  home.     But  it  is  not  to  be  found  1 

where  the  liglil  of  the  glory  of  the  gospel  of  God  has  not  shone.  | 

The  second  evidence   of  civilization   is,   security   of  properly,  1 

person,  and  character.     The  existence  of  separate  property,  the  I 

absolute  right  of  which  is  in  the  person,  answering  to  our  idea  of  a  \ 

fee-simple  title   to  land,  is  not  known  to  the  people  in  China  or  | 

India.     Proof  of  this  very  material  fact  need  not  be  sought  for  in  | 

the  usages  of  the  nations,  or  in   their  laws.     It  is  a  necessary  con-  % 

dition  of  the  cstalilishment  of  castes  among  them.     These  castes  | 
could  not  exist  with  our  idea  of  properly  received,  and  carried  into  3 

practice.     It  is  not  to  be  denied,  but  that  use,  and  possession  for  a  | 
long  time,  by  die  same  person  or  family,  give  a  pretty  weU-secm-cd  j 

right  to  continue  to  use.     But  this  is  not  the  idea  of  right,  in  a  high  \ 

state  of  civilization,     ^^'c  claim  the  right  of  selluig  our  property,  \ 


1S41.]  Civilization  in  Modern  Europe.  235 

of  giving  it  awaj',  or  of  disposing  of  it  by  will,  independent  of  the 
will  of  any  person  wliatsoevev.  It  is  this  right  which  gives  indi- 
viduality and  importance.  No  such  right  as  this  exists  in  Japan, 
or  China,  or  India.  The  ultimate  right  to  the  soil  is  understood 
to  rest  in  the  government,  subordinately  from  the  emperor  down  to 
the  lo^vcst  officer ;  and  the  cultivators  of  the  soil  are  allowed  their 
scanty  subsistence  from  the  sweat  of  their  brows. 

As  it  respects  security  of  person  and  character,  we  have  still 
less  groimd  for  the  comparison.  As  far  as  we  arc  able  to  learn, 
character  is  not  a  subject  of  litigation  at  all.  The  law  gives  no 
redress  for  injury  of  individual  character.  And  the  person  is  secure, 
only  as  a  piece  of  property,  belonging  to  the  government,  and  useful 
to  it,  and  no  further.  The  distinct  idea  of  the  population  is,  that 
they  are  the  property  of  the  government.  Tlie  noble  idea,  without 
which  there  is  neidier  freedom  nor  personal  security,  that  govern- 
ment is  instituted  and  administered  for  the  good  of  the  people,  has 
scarcely  yet  occurred  to  fin  individual  mind  out  of  Christendom, 
much  less  formed  the  basis  of  public  opinion.  This  complex  idea 
contains  within  it  that  of  representalio/i,  which  is  essential  to  all 
free  governments,  and  without  which,  there  is  no  certain  redress 
for  jicrsonal  injurj%  or  private  wrong,  done  either  by  the  stronger,  or 
by  the  hand  of  authority.  In  none  but  Christian  counti-ies  are  the 
ideas  of  right  and  power  distinctly  separated.  For  all  practical 
puq)oses,  in  pagan  comitrics  they  are  identical. 

If  we  inquire  for  the  next  evidence  of  civilization — the  prevalence 
of  knowledge,  morals,  and  public  spirit — in  pagan  countries  we 
shall  fmd  scarcely  a  vestige  of  cither  among  the  great  mass  of  the 
jicople  ;  vcrj'  little  of  ehher  even  among  the  higher  circles  of 
society.  In  China  there  is  supposed  to  be  much  knowledge,  from 
the  beautiful  china  ware  and  silks  which  they  produce.  It  has 
also  been  reported  that  their  astronomical  knowledge  is  accurate 
and  extensive.  Their  canals  and  public  works  are  sometimes 
mentioned  as  evidence  of  knowledge  ;  and  by  some  their  internal 
government  is  considered  perfect.  These  favorable  views  of  China 
were  published  in  Europe,  and  pressed  upon  public  attention  dming 
the  period  of  the  French  revolution,  cliiefly  by  Voltaire  and  the 
Abbe  Raynal.  There  is  no  difficulty  in  detecting  the  motive.  It 
was  to  discredit  Christianity,  by  contrasting  the  convulsed  condition 
of  Europe,  where  it  prevailed,  with  the  supposed  tranquility  and 


236  General  History  of  [April, 

happiness  of  China,  where  it.  did  not  exist.  The  controversy  led 
to  more  accurate  investigations,  and  the  result  has  been  to  reject 
tiie  idea  of  a  high  state  of  civilization  and  happiness  in  China,  and 
also  its  high  claims  to  antiquity,  which  were  supposed,  and  in- 
deed intended,  to  conllict  with  the  conmionly  received  Chiistian 
chronolog)'. 

All  that  ran  he  fairly  afTirmed  of  the  Chinese,  with  respect  to 
science,  is,  that  they  make  high  pretensions,  and  that  they  are  in 
possession  of  a  few  facts,  and  some  astronomical  calculations, 
which  they  have  obtained  from  others,  but  do  not  understand  them- 
selves. The  following  condensed  view  of  Chinese  science  is  sup- 
ported by  the  best  authorities  ;  and  is  a  principal  argim:ent  for  M. 
Bailly's  iheor)-  of  the  origin  of  the  sciences  : — 

"  For  above  two  liundrcil  years,  what  is  termed  the  tribunal  of 
mathematics  in  China  h-is  been  filled,  not  by  native  Chinese,  but  by 
Jesuits.  'I'he-se  ari-  t)i('  men  who  have  made  all  their  astronomical 
rak'iilations,  .-niil  lunl  the  chart'e  of  the  Cbinesc  observatory.  There 
arc,  indied,  mihic  noiiiiii;il  |)rotV'ssors  of  astronomy  among  the  Chinese 
thenisflves,  luit  ilic-r  ;ir(!  so  jfnissly  ignorant  as  to  adhere  with  great 
oli^tiri:icy  Id  :in  .■iiRirii!  npii.ion,  iliat  the  earth  is  of  a  square  fis:nro. 

'•'  liel'ui-f  llu-  a.Tival  nfilM;  .I.-uiis,  it  is  acknowledged  that  the  Chinese 
were  posscs:.si-d  of  aslroiiomicvd  instruments,  and  pretended  to  make 
observations  on  the  licavcns.  The  possession  of  these  instnnnenis  is 
urged  as  an  arsjuniont  of  vcrj'  considerable  proficiency  in  astronomy 
and  mechanics,  and  llie  argument  is  apparently  a  good  one.  But  let 
us  reniark  ono  faci  :  the  latitude  of  Pckin  is  thirty-nine  degrees,  fifty- 
fi\  e  minutes,  and  fifteciu  seconds  ;  the  latitude  of  Nankin  thirty-two 
degrees,  four  mimites,  and  three  seconds  ;  yet  all  the  smi-dials  and 
astronomical  instruments,  both  at  Pckin  and  Nankin,  are  constructed 
for  the  latiliide  ol  ihirty-six  degrees  :  so  that  it  is  absolutely  impossible 
tbat  the  Cliiiu'se  could  have  made  a  single  just  observation  at  either  of 
these  capitals  of  th.-  empire.  A  very  probable  conjecture  has  been 
formed  wiih  resard  lo  the  cause  of  this  singularity.     The  city  of  Balk,  | 

in  liaetriruia,  (imw  Burlmria,)  is  situated  in  the  thirty-sixth  degree  of  { 

liorlh  l,-:!iunle.  'i'li.'  seii  nets  l>e;.';iii  to  bo  cultivated  in  this  city  by  the 
Grec;ks  ;  wlin,  h  '.viii:;  oliiitiued  the  govoriuncnt  of  this  province,  under 
the  successors  of  Alexander  the  t;roat,  shook  off  their  dependence, 
and  fouaded  a  pretty  extensive  eminre.  In  the  time  that  China  was 
governed  hy  the  fir.^l  dynasty  of  llie  Tartar  iiiinces,  these  instruments, 
made  for  t lie  latitude  of  Ij'alk,  were  transported  to  China,  and  the 
Chinese  at  that  tinu-  aetjnired  some  smattering  of  their  use.  Hence 
the  origin  of  one  of  the  most  absurd  and  disnraceful  errors,  which  the 
Jesuits  acknowh-dired  wa.s  maintained  by  all  the  Chinese  astronomers, 
that  the  cities  of  China  were  all  situated  in  the  thirty-sixth  degree  of 
latitude.  As  for  loiiLriiuile,  they  had  not  the  most  distant  idea  of  it  , 
yet  these  are  the  people  who  are  said  to  have  cultivated  the  science 


1841.]  Civilizalion  in  ]\Iodern  Europe.  237 

of  astvonomy  for  four  thousand  years,  and  whose  history  is  aulhenti- 
calod,  licyoiid  a  doubt,  by  a  course  of  celestial  observations  begun 
before  the  deluge  V'—Tydcr. 

But  knowledge,  in  its  higliest  sense,  does  not  simply  mean  the 
possession  of  facts  and  principles  ;  it  implies  also  their  application 
to  the  improvement  of  society,  and  the  discovery  of  additional  facts 
and  principles.  This  high  and  distinguishing  attribute  of  know- 
ledge, which  is  the  characteristic  glory  of  the  civilization  of  Cluris- 
lian  countries,  is  entirely  unkno\v]i  in  China.  It  never  existed 
tlicrc,  nor  is  it  to  be  found  in  pagan  countries.  '  There  is  no  accu- 
mulation of  facts,  or  discovery  of  new  principles.  Nor  is  there 
any  new  applications  of  those  which  they  have  possessed  for  cen- 
luvies.  Even  then:  hnplemcnts  of  husbandry  are  of  the  same 
simple  and  nide  forms  that  existed  hundreds  of  years  ago.  Neither 
theory  nor  speculation  exists  among  them.  Tliere  is  no  activity 
of  mind.  There  is  nothing  more  than  a  feeble  observation  of  what 
addresses  the  senses,  or  passions.  The  gi-eat  mental  activity,  the 
restless  inquiry,  the  high  enterprise,  and  the  rapid  and  energetic 
cxeculion  which  distinguish  Christendom,  are  not  known  in  China 
in  the  smaUest  degree.  Her  political  and  social  institutions  are 
all  intended  to  calm  and  soothe  the  mind,  and  to  reduce  it  to  a 
state  of  ease  and  inactivity.  The  object  is  to  insiurc  uniform  and 
unresisting  obedience.  In  Christendom,  nothing  is  considered 
valualjle  that  does  not  give  an  additional  impulse  to  some  one  of 
the  great  interests  of  humanity.  The  conflicts  of  opinions  and 
principles,  which  produce  such  tremendous  concussions  in  Europe, 
arc  regarded  as  the  birth-throes  of  higher  states  of  knowledge, 
liberty,  and  civihzation.  But,  in  China,  they  would  be  considered 
the  signal  for  the  dissolution  and  destruction  of  society,  if  not  of 
the  world. 

To  support  this  interesting  point  in  the  comparison,  we  shall 
refer  to  two  or  three  principal  facts.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
Cliinese,  perhaps  by  accident,  had  knowledge  of  gionpowdcr,  the 
compass,  and  prmting,  many  ages  before  they  were  discovered  in 
Europe.  But,  until  the  Christians  visited  China,  these  facts,  in 
their  possession,  had  been  productive  of  no  advantage  whatever. 
Ciuipowder  they  used  simply  as  an  amusement,  in  the  preparation 
of  fireworks,  which  they  exhibited  in  the  day  lime,  ui  order  that 
iliey  might  be  the  better  seen.     The  compass  was  a  mere  matter 


238  General  Ilistonj  of  [April, 

of  curious  observation  ;  and  tlic}-  declared  to  the  Portuguese,  when 
they  first  visited  China,  that  they  knew  of  the  existence  of  polar 
attraction,  but  had  no  use  for  it.  As  for  printing,  it  has  always 
been  executed  with  blocks  of  wood,  on  which  tlie  characters  ai-e 
cut,  as  in  sculpture.  They  liave  no  knowledge  of  moveable  tj'pcs, 
that  wonderful  method  by  which  tlie.  inliabitants  of  Christian  coun- 
tries combine  and  express  their  thoughts  on  paper. 

Now  let  us  glance  at  the  discovery  and  application  of  gimpowdcr, 
the  compass,  and  printing  in  Chrislcndom.  They  were  all  the 
result  of  accident.  But  when  the  accidents  disclosed  the  facts, 
how  quickly  were  these  facts  applied  to  the  interests  and  impro^e- 
ment  of  society.  The  discovei^'  of  powder  was  followed  by  an 
entire  change  in  the  mililarv  art,  and  has  lessened  very  much  the 
destruction  of  human  life  in  battle,  and  the  general  asperity  and 
horrors  of  wai".  No  sooner  was  the  polarity  of  the  load  stone  dis- 
covered, than  the  bold  and  adventurous  Clu'istian  mariner  qm't 
his  tedious  and  dangerous  coasting,  and  stretched  away  across  the 
wide  and  pathless  Atlantic  to  the  discovery  of  a  new  continent. 
But  who  can  conceive  of  the  results  of  the  rapid  and  universal 
application  in  Christendom  of  the  art  of  pnnting  ?  It  was  seized 
upon  and  applied  to  the  propagation  of  knowledge  throughout  the 
whole  Christian  world,  so  that  every  valuable  fact,  gi-eat  truth,  or 
sound  principle,  wherever  first  discovered  or  applied,  instantly  be- 
came the  property  of  every  nation,  city,  town,  village,  and  farm 
house ;  thus  establishing  a  commonwealth  of  knowledge,  which 
will  ultimately  work  out  a  commonwealth  of  interest  and  liberty 
among  all  the  people  of  the  earth.  At  the  discover)'  of  this  art,  the 
printing  presses  in  Christendom  became  in  the  midst  of  the  popu- 
lation what  pow^erful  electrical  batteries  are  in  circles  of  living 
beings  which  connect  their  o]iposite  poles.  They  gave  out  rapid 
and  brilliant  coruscations  of  mind,  communicating  them  by  power- 
ful and  successive  iin]>idscs  throughout  the  associated  masses,  imtil 
Christian  Europe  was  fully  charged  with  great  and  sound  thoughts 
and  principles,  whicii  have  elevated  her  to  her  present  commanding 
position  in  the  world.  And  now,  a  self-generating  batter}',  like  the 
torjocdo,  she  stands  in  the  midst  of  the  earth,  full  charged  with 
wisdom  and  experience,  communicating  her  illuminating  and  re- 
generating influences  to  all  who  come  within  striking  distances. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  institute  a  comparison  between  the 


18-11.]  Civilizalion  in  Modern  Europe.  239 

7norah  aiid  imhUc  spirit  of  ihe  most  enlightened  and  civilized 
pagan  countries  and  Christendom.  All  authorities  declare,  that 
public,  sjiirit  in  any  of  the  more  pleasing  or  commanding  forms  of 
benevolence  docs  not  exist  out  of  Clu-istendom.  Perhaps  many 
■will  learn  with  surprise  that  there  does  not  exist  on  the  earth,  in- 
dependent of  Christianity,  an  asylum,  or  a  hospital,  or  a  retreat  for 
liic  distressed  and  unfortunate,  or  a  public  school  for  the  instruction 
of  the  poor  and  destitute,  such  as  those  Avhich  adom  the  civilization 
of  Cliristcndom.  Scarcely  a  city  in  Europe  or  America  which  has 
not  .'^ome  monument  of  this  kind ;  and  some  have  many.  These 
are  the  liomes  of  the  worn-out  and  mutilated  sailor,  the  lonely  and 
penury  stricken  widow,  of  the  deaf,  the  dimib,  the  blmd,  and  the 
lunatic,  where  they  are  made  as  happy  and  as  comfortable  as  they 
can  possibly  be  in  this  world. 

But  instead  of  these  charities,  which  bless  humanity  in  Christen- 
dom, wo  occasionally  find  hospitals  in  pagan  countries  for  brutes, 
while  man  is  left  to  perish  as  he  may.  A  centm-y  ago,  the  city  of 
Ahmcdabad,  in  India,  contained  three  hospitals  for  animals.  And 
m  the  city  of  Surat,  the  most  remarkable  institution  at  the  present 
time  is  the  Banyan  hospital  for  sick,  wounded,  and  maimed  animals. 
It  is  inclosed  by  high  walls,  and  subdivided  into  numerous  courts 
for  th.e  accommodation  of  the  different  species.  In  sicluiess,  they 
are  attended  with  the  utmost  assiduity,  and  provided  with  an  asylum 
in  old  age.  In  1772,  it  contained  horses,  mules,  oxen,  sheep,  goats, 
monkirs,  poultry,  pigeons,  and  various  other  birds,  also  an  aged 
tortoise,  which  was  known  to  have  been  there  seventy-live  years. 

It  will  be  observed  that  wc  liave  avoided  any  comparison  of  the 
religious  opinions  and  customs  of  pagans  and  Christians.  And 
.although  such  a  comparison  would  show  a  vast  superiority  of  the 
latter  over  the  former,  yet  this  would  be  begging  the  question,  as 
our  object  is  to  prove  that  Christianity  is  the  essential  element  in 
causing  the  difference.  But  before  we  proceed  to  state  some  facts 
which  demonstrate  this  proposition,  we  will  note  the  comparative 
activity  of  Christian  and  pagan  nations. 

In  Clu-istendom  the  most  distinguishing  feature  of  the  nineteenth 
ccniurj'  is,  unexampled  activity,  displayed  in  inquiries  after  sound 
political  and  social  principles,  and  moral  and  religious  truths ;  and 
in  ihcir  application  to  individual  and  general  improvement.  Hence 
she  rapid  and  sublunc  developments  of  mind  ;  the  daily  and  ahnost 


240  General  History  of  [April, 

hourly  discoveries  in  the  sciences,  and  improvements  in  the  fine 
and  useful  arts ;  the  advancement  of  trade,  and  the  growth  of 
commerce.  The  degree  of  actrvily  in  a  community  is  the  measure 
of  ils  civihzalion  ;  where  this  activity  is  not  fomid,  society  remains 
stationary,  or  rather  gradually  rctrogi-ades.  There  are  no  inven- 
tions in  the  arts,  no  discoveries  in  science,  no  boldness  and  fireedom 
of  thought,  no  development  of  vast  plans  for  public  improvement, 
no  great  individual  or  corporate  enterprises.  External  order,  and 
a  general  security  of  property  and  person,  may  indeed  be  found 
under  an  extensive  and  despotic  police.  Evidences  of  great  wealth 
and  power  ma}-^  appear  in  the  erection  of  pyramids  and  palaces  by 
despotic  rulers,  who  command  the  persons  of  the  people  witliout 
their  consent,  as  they  do  their  substance  ;  and  too  frequently  these 
monuments  of  despotic  power  are  taken  for  e^^dencc  of  general 
civilization  and  prosperity.  The  true  philosophic  view  of  all  such 
great  works  is,  that  they  arc  the  evidence  of  unutterable  oppression 
and  distress  among  the  people — the  price  of  incalculable  blood  and 
treasure.  A  knowledge  of  tlie  amount  of  human  misery  and  waste 
of  human  life,  ciused  by  their  construction,  would  make  the  blood 
run  cold  in  the  veins.  .In  accomj)lishing  the  plans  of  their  ambitious 
masters,  men  arc  used  as  mere  beasts  of  burden,  and  they  perish 
without  notice  or  regret,  as  the  beasts  perish,  from  fatigue  and  bad 
usage. 

But  in  Christendom  an  irrepressible  activity  pen-ades  the  thrones, 
the  palaces,  and  the  peo])le  ;  producing  an  aslonislimg  commotion 
evcry\vhere,  in  the  open  fields,  in  the  gloomy  forests,  in  the  popu- 
lous cities,  and  on  the  wide  and  pathless  ocean,  making  discoveries 
in  the  sciences,  and  improvements  in  the  arts  so  rapidly^  that  we 
scarcely  know  -when  we  arc  read  up  in  the  one,  or  have  the  latest 
and  liest  specimens  of  the  other.  While  all  this  is  going  on  in 
Christian  countries,  subjecting  the  physical  world  to  the  dominion 
of  man,  and  compelling  it  to  administer  to  his  necessities  and  his 
pleasures,  what  do  we  sec  in  pagan  or  Mohammedan  coimtries  ? 
Not  one  new  development  in  the  cmj)ire  of  intellect ;  not  a  single 
discovery  in  moral,  political,  or  physical  science  ;  not  the  slightest 
improvement  in  cither  the  useful  or  the  fine  arts.  All  is  stationary 
or  declining.  Christianity,  that  living  and  all-informing  power, 
which  God  has  given  to  awake  the  world  to  activity  and  improve- 
ment, is  not  among  them.     Hence  they  arc  sunk  into  ignorance 


ISII.]  Civilization  in  Modern  Eurojje.  241 

and  apatb)'.  They  use  tlie  same  material,  and  form  of  dress,  and 
furniture  now  that  they  did  a  tliousand  years  ago  ;  the  same  man- 
ners and  customs  prevail,  and  if  they  attempt  to  introduce  Clu-is- 
tian  improvements,  they  arc  obliged  to  employ  Christian  men  as 
agents,  owing  to  their  imbecihty  and  ignorance.  What  better 
proof  is  desired  of  the  superior  activity  and  energy  of  Chrisliaa 
countries,  than  the  events  which  are  now  transpiring  in  the  cast  ? 
Who  doubts  the  humiliation  of  the  Chinese  authority  to  the  small 
English  fleets  with  a  few  thousand  soldiers,  notwithstanding  the 
celestial  emperor  has  under  his  command  three  hundred  millions  of 
subjects,  and  perhaps  the  right  of  the  quaj-rel  on  his  side.  How 
feeble  will  be  the  resistance  of  Chinese  power  and  skill  to  tlie 
thunder  of  the  British  camion  ?  Nay,  if  England  were  not  restrained 
by  moral  and  political  considerations,  is  there  an  intelligent  person 
that  doubts  but  that  the  British  flag  would  be  wavijig  over  the 
imperial  palace  in  Pckin  in  a  few  short  weeks  ?  But  could  this 
movement  be  reversed?  Where  is  the  pagan  power  that  could 
dispatch  its  fleets  and  armies  three  thousand  miles  from  home,  and 
bring  into  submission  the  smallest  state  in  Christendom  ? 

In  a  prior  remark  we  suggested  the  application  of  the  comparison 
to  the  different  Clixistian  countries,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that 
their  advance  in  civilization  is  in  proportion  to  the  prevalence  of 
the  purer  forms  of  Christianity.  For  this  pm-pose  it  will  be  sufii- 
cienl  to  fix  the  attention  on  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Italy  in  the  south, 
and  Russia,  in  the  north  of  Europe,  as  one  side  of  the  comparison  ; 
and  on  the  south  and  west  of  Germany,  on  England,  and  on  France, 
as  the  other.  The  superiority  of  civilization  in  these  latter  por- 
tions of  Europe  cannot  be  questioned.  If  we  look  into  their  reli- 
gious histor)'  and  condition,  we  shall  find  in  the  former  more  pomp 
connected  with  their  worship,  but  much  less  liberty  of  thought. 
And  these  two  facts  spring  from  one  great  difference  between  the 
Roman  Catholic  and  the  Protestant.  And  lest  we  should  misstate 
this  difference,  we  will  state  it  from  M.  Villers  prize  essay,  in  answer 
to  the  following  question  proposed  by  the  National  Institute  of 
France,  viz. :  "  What  has  been  the  influence  of  the  Reformation  on 
the  political  situation  of  the  states  of  Europe,  and  on  the  progress 
of  knowledge  ?"    The  essay  was  approved  by  this  august  tribunal  1 

of  French  philosophers,  and  received  the  prize  in  the  rajiital  of  a  j 

Catholic  country.     Speaking  of  the  dilTerence  between  the  Catholic  | 


242  General  History  of  [April, 

and  Protestant  theologies,  M.  Villers  says, — "  The  Catholic 
theology  rests  on  the  inflexible  authority  of  tlie  decision  of  the 
church,  and  consequently  jirohibits  to  the  student  ever)-  free  use  of 
]iis  reason.  Tlic  Protestant  tlicolog}%  on  the  contrarj',  rests  on  a 
system  of  examiualioii,  on  the  unlimited  use  of  reason.  The  most 
hberal  e.vegesis  opens  to  it  tlie  knowledge  of  sacred  antiquity  ;  and 
criticism,  that  of  the  history  of  the  cliurch :  a  simplified  and  pure 
doctrine  is,  to  it,  only  tlie  body,  the  positive  form  nectssary  to  rc- 
hgion  :  it  is  sujjportcd  by  philosophy  in  its  examination  of  the  laws 
of  nature,  of  morality,  and  of  the  relation  of  man  to  the  Divinity. 
Whoever  is  anxious  to  be  well  informed  in  history,  in  classical 
hteralure,  in  philosophy,  can  use  no  better  method  tlian  a  course 
of  Protestant  theology."— P.  129. 

In  the  explanation  of  the  interesting  fact  involved  in  this  com- 
parison, it  cannot  Irave  escaped  notice  that  the  Protestant  theology^ 
prevails,  or  is  cultivated  extensively  in  all  the  coimtrics  on  the  side 
of  the  comparison  to  which  we  have  assigned  the  superiority  ;  and 
yet  France,  a  Catholic  countrj^,  is  in  this  scale,  and  Russia,  not 
Catholic,  in  the  other.  The  cause  of  this  variation  is  obvious,  if  we 
look  into  the  history  of  these  countries.  Russia  has  but  lately 
become  Christian,  and  the  fundamental  principle  of  her  theology^  is 
the  same  as  that  of  the  Catholic,  and  her  forms  of  worship  also 
conform  closely.  France,  though  never  thoroughly  Protestant,  yet 
has  always  had  a  large  Protestant  ])opulalion,  and  manj^  of  her  stars 
of  the  first  magnitude  have  been  Protestants.  Under  the  present 
constitution  of  France,  the  Protestant  worship  is  tolerated,  and 
under  certain  conditions  supported ;  and  there  arc  two  Protestant 
theological  seminaries  in  the  kingdom,  at  Strasburg  and  Jlontauban. 
She  has  been  constantly  influenced  bj'  England  and  Protestant 
Germany.  London,  llalle,  and  Geneva  became  the  schools  from 
whence  the  French  derived  their  erudition.  But  above  all,  what 
is  not  generally  known,  yet  well  attested,  she  never  did,  and  never 
can  bow  without  reserve  to  pajial  supremacy,  jure  divino.  In 
proof  of  the  remark,  reference  may  be  had  to  Guizot  on  civiliza- 
tion. These  three  material  facts  explain  how  France  comes  to  be 
abreast  of  England,  if  not  in  the  lead,  in  the  progress  of  civilization. 

The  difl'erencc  in  the  prevalence  of  knowledge  and  liberty  in 
these  countries  is  not  greater  than  the  difference  in  the  internal 
condition  of  the  people.     In  the  one  class  of  countries,  agiiculture 


1S41.]  Civilizulion  in  Modern  Europe.  243 

economy,  and  its  various  branches,  are  in  a  deplorable  state  of 
dci^radalion.  Poverty,  indolence, beggary,  and  vice  prevail,  as  in  the 
fine  jiroviiices  of  Rome  and  Naples,  in  Spain  and  Portugal,  while 
activity  and  improvements  in  agriculture,  in  rural  economy,  in 
government,  strike  the  attention  of  the  observer  in  the  midst  of 
llic  cold  and  infertile  fields  of  Scotland,  England,  and  Holland. 

From  what  has  been  produced  in  these  comparisons,  we  may 
SCR  clearl)%  that  the  finest  portions  of  Asia  and  Eiurope,  where 
Christianity  docs  not  prevail,  are  in  a  much  more  miserable  con- 
dition, notwithstanding  their  great  naliiral  advantages,  than  the 
Flcrile  and  inhospitable  portions  of  Europe,  where  the  vivifying  and 
illuminating  power  of  Christianity  has  been  felt  in  its  purer  forms. 
The  prevalence  of  this  fact  everywhere  is  a  conclusive  argument 
in  favor  of  Christianity,  being  the  essential  element  in  civilization. 
And  where  it  is  most  pure  it  is  most  efficient. 

Having  shown,  by  comparison,  the  vast  superioj-ity  of  Ciiristian 
over  pagan  countries,  and  the  decided  superiority  of  those  where 
Clirislianily  prevails  in  its  purer  forms  over  others  where  it  does 
not,  we  shall  proceed  to  exliibit  some  of  the  principal  facts  in  the 
liislory  of  civilization  which  attest  that  Christianity  is  the  cause  of 
this  dilTerenee. 

When  the  Portuguese  first  visited  India  they  found  in  the  Malabar 
district  a  native  Christian  population,  which  claimed  to  have  existed 
there  from  the  days  of  St.  Thomas  the  apostle.  After  the  country 
jiasscd  under  the  dominion  of  Great  Britain,  the  Rev.  Claudius 
Buchanan  visited  it  and  explored  the  interior.  He  found  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  these  native  Christians  who  claimed  their  succes- 
sion from  the  bishops  of  Antioch,  and  possessed  and  used  the 
Syriac  Scriptures,  copies  of  which  he  brought  to  England.  Upon 
his  return  he  published  liis  discoveries  and  observations  in  a  volume 
entitled.  The  Star  in  the  East,  in  which  he  strongly  urges  the 
British  government  to  make  an  ecclesiastical  establishment  for 
Jndia.  The  object  in  reciting  these  extraordinary  facts  is  not  to 
show  the  effect  of  British  inlluence  on  the  population,  but  the  con- 
dition of  that  portion  of  India  where  these  native  Christians  were 
found,  and  had  existed  from  the  earliest  ages,  as  compared  with 
that  of  tlie  Brahmin  and  Mohammedan  populations  in  their  imme- 
diiic  vi.-inity.  JIalle  Brun  says,  "  The  inhabitants  are  uncomnionly 
indu.-lriuus  and  expert  in  husbandry;  their  villages  are  tlie  neatest 


244  General  History  of  [April, 

in  India ;  the  houses  are  contiguous  in  a  strait  line,  built  of  qXaj  of 
an  excellent  quality,  well  smoothed  and  painted."  Here,  under  the 
most  unpromising  chcuinstanccs,  \vc  see  the  legitimate  influence  of 
Christianity  upon  the  well-being  of  society. 

But  Christianity  has  contributed  inost  materially  to  the  produc- 
tion of  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of  life  by  the  impulse  which  it 
gave,  at  the  Reformation,  to  the  study  of  philosophy  and  the  arts.  \ 

Hence,  the  institution  of  agricultural  societies  in  most  of  the  slates 
and  cities  of  Europe  and  America.  These  societies  collect  in- 
formation and  publish  it ;  and  offer  premiums  for  improvements 
and  inventions.  Lectureships  and  professorships  are  endowed  in 
many  colleges  and  univer.siiics ;  and  even  iiational  institutes  and 
boards  of  agriculture  exist  m  various  Christian  countries.  Nor  has 
the  vast  impulse  given  to  the  study  of  philosophy  at  the  Reforma- 
tion operated  less  beneficially  on  the  manufacturing  interests. 
Many  philosophical  societies  have  been  established,  whose  trans- 
actions, published  to  the  world,  have  rendered  the  empire  of  philo- 
sophy the  common  inheritance  of  Christendom.  From  these  vast 
and  various  movements  in  society,  under  Christian  impulses,  com- 
merce has  sprung  uj)  and  extended  to  every  accessible  port  and 
place  on  the  face  of  the  whole  earth.  And  it  is  remarkable  that 
there  is  not  a  commercial  nation  in  the  world  that  is  not  Christian. 
Hence  one  material  fact :  while  a  failure  in  the  crop,  or  even  a 
very  great  diminulioii  in  pagan  countries,  produces  famine  and 
pestilence,  and  not  unfrcquently  rebellion  and  civil  war,  in  Chris- 
tian countries  the  deficiency  is  made  up  by  commerce  importing  a 
supply  from  foreign  sources.  Hence  neither  famine  nor  pestilence 
has  been  known  in  Europe  since  the  Reformation,  except  the  latter, 
by  unportation  from  some  pagan  or  Mohammedan  country. 

As  a  decisive  proof  that  our  reasoning  on  this  interesting  ques- 
tion is  well  founded,  compare  the  increase  and  decrease  of  popu- 
lations in  pagan  and  Ciiristian  countries.  In  none  of  the  former 
is  population  increasing-,  in  most  of  them  it  is  decreasing.  In 
China  and  India  it  is  supposed  to  be  stationary ;  in  Turkey  and  all 
her  dependencies,  it  has  long  since  been  on  the  decline  ;  while  in 
most  Ciiristian  countries  it  has  been  rapidly  on  the  increase.  It 
has  doubled  in  England  within  one  hundred  years,  notwithstanding 
the  vast  drains  of  her  armies  and  navies,  and  of  emigration.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  France,  of  many  parts  of  Germany,  and  of 


ISll.]  CivUiznlion  in  Modern  Europe.  245 

Riisiiii.  The  explanation  of  lliis  remarkable  fact  is  found  in  the 
law  of  the  increase  and  decrease  of  population,  which  is,  in  pro- 
jwr/ion  to  the  means  of  comfortahle  subsistence. 

\N'e  also  mentioned  the  security  and  sanctity  of  the  domestic  re- 
lations as  a  prime  evidence  of  high  civilization.  Let  us  now  notice 
two  or  three  particulars  in  its  history  which  bear  on  this  question. 
Wc  shall  not  presume  too  much  when  we  say,  one  cannot  conceive 
of  society  being  in  a  tolerable  state  of  civilization  where  security 
and  sanctit}'  of  the  domestic  relations  do  not  prevail.  And  it  is 
equally  impossible  to  suppose  these  relations  to  be  secure  or  sacred 
where  polygamy  prevails.  It  is  a  well-attested  fact  that  this 
custom  is  tolerated  in  every  pagan  country  :  it  has  been  so  tolerated 
in  all  ages. 

It  ceased  to  exist  only  mider  the  influence  of  revealed  religion. 
Europe  is  indebted  to  Christianity  for  deliverance  from  it,  and  for 
the  elevation  of  woman  to  her  proper  position  in  society.  Chris- 
tianity, -which  positively  forbids  polygamy  on  pain  of  the  eternal 
damnation  of  the  soul,  had  been  for  three  hundred  and  sixty  years 
gradually  altering  the  opinions  and  controlling  the  feelings  of  the 
Roman  world,  until  the  impression  it  had  made  was  a  sufficient 
foundation  for  legislative  action,  when  Theodosius  the  Great  and 
his  sons  Arcadius  and  Honorius,  b)'-edict,  A.  D.  393,  had  the  honor 
of  abolishing  it  throughout  the  empire.  This  single  fact  in  the 
history  of  civilization  is  sufficient  to  establish  the  claim  of  Chris- 
tianity as  the  principal  clement  in  perfecting  society. 

( )iic'  other  fact,  connected  with  the  history  of  woman,  imparts 
much  light  and  power  to  this  argument.  The  genius  of  pagan 
society  and  government  requires  the  degradation  of  woman  ;  while 
that  of  Christian  society  and  government  her  elevation  and  pro- 
tection. The  first  are  founded  essentially  on  the  idea  of  power  : 
llie  latter  on  the  idea  of  morality  and  justice.  Hence,  as  iiistory 
everywhere  attests,  the  first  have  always  made  less  account  of  the 
lives  of  females  than  of  males  ;  and  their  whole  social  policy  is  to 
require  the  female  in  the  lower  ranks  of  life  to  perform  the  drudgery 
of  the  household,  and  in  the  higher,  to  be  removed  from  society, 
excluded  from  mental  and  moral  improvement,  and  shut  up  within 
lier  own  premises,  sinq^ly  for  the  pleasure  of  her  master.  In  wJiat 
p".L-,an  or  ]\Iohammedan  country  does  woman  mingle  in  society 
with  ease  and  equality,  receiving  the  respect  and  attentions  of  man, 

Vol..  I.— IG 


246  General  History  of  [April, 

and  in  rctiirn  bestowing  upon  liim  comfort,  pleasm-e,  and  refine- 
ment ?  Wiioever  else  may  be  an  enemy  to  Christianity,  surely 
infidelity  or  irreligion  in  woman  would  be  treason  against  her  own 
virtue  and  felicity. 

The  civilizing  and  conservative  power  of  Christianity  is  strikingly 
exliibited  b)-  a  comparison  of  the  west  of  Europe,  where  the  church 
sustained  the  shock  of  the  northern  barbarians,  and  converted 
lliem ;  with  Asia,  Egj^pt,  and  those  portions  of  Europe  where  she 
fell  under  the  Mohammedan  power.  The  countries  which  the 
l^Iohammedans  overran,  ami  where  they  nearly  extinguished  Cluis- 
tianity,  ^vcre  the  garden  spots  of  the  world,  in  a  good  state  of 
culture,  and  filled  with  a  civilized  population.  The  conquerors 
themselves  possessed  its  first  elements,  derived  from  Arabia  and 
the  East.  They  held  the  fundamental  principle  of  religion  also, 
the  doctrine  of  only  one  living  and  true  God.  Yet  with  all  these 
advantages,  every  country  where  they  extinguished  religion  has 
suffered  a  diminution  of  population,  of  the  comforts  of  life,  of 
domestic  and  social  happiuc'^s ;  and  liberty  is  an  entire  stranger  to 
them.  On  the  other  hand,  the  invaders  which  poured  down  from 
the  north  upon  Europe,  and  took  jiossession  of  her  cities,  towns, 
mountains,  and  plains,  were  barbarians  indeed.  Every  element  of 
general  society,  except  religion,  perished  in  their  presence.  The 
church  alone  wnthslood  the  shock,  and  became  the  great  conserva- 
tive agent  in  recovering  Europe  from  the  desolation  and  darkness 
which  followed.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  these  barbarians,  on  the  very 
soil  which  they  won  by  their  valor,  has  gi-own  up  the  great  Euro- 
pean family  of  nations,  with  their  vast  circle  of  sciences  and  arts, 
their  manufactures  and  coinincrcc,  and  their  varied,  exuberant,  and 
splendid  civilization.  "\Vc  may  conceive  faintly  of  the  power  and 
superiority  of  these  nations,  wlien  wc  remember,  that  one  of  them, 
■wliose  coiut  and  capital  are  on  a  small  island  in  the  Atlantic,  rules 
over  nearly  one  fourtli  of  the  population  of  the  world,  and  directs 
more  than  one  third  of  its  elements  of  power. 

Now,  the  interesting  problem  to  be  solved  is  this  :  Why  have 
tlie  populous  and  civilized  countries  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe, 
wliich  were  conquered  by  the  ]\Iohammedans,  gradually  sunk  back 
into  darkness,  misery,  and  slavcrj' ;  while  the  portions  of  Europe, 
overrun  by  barbarians  indeed,  have  made  such  wonderful  advance- 
ment in  all  the  arts  of  peace,  and  war,  and  in  every  thing  that  can 
16* 


1811.]  Civilizaticm  in  Modern  Europe.  247 

aJorn  luunaiiily '  Tlie  only  answer  which  can  be  given  to  this 
question,  tlie  answer  which  liistory,  philosopliy,  and  reason  allesl, 
is,  tlic  preservation  and  influence  of  Christianity.  Whatever  re- 
mained in  the  general  wi-eck  of  Roman  society  and  civilization, 
found  an  asylum  in  the  bosom  of  the  clim-ch :  here  it  was  nursed 
into  life,  and  gradually  imbued  with  the  spirit  and  forms  of  Cliris- 
lianily.  These  overcame  the  fierce  and  savage  Goth,  and  Hun, 
and  \'andal,  and  Frank,  and  tamed  their  wild  and  violent  spirits, 
and  brought  them  under  the  influence  of  religion.  They  became 
Christiajis,  and  society  began  to  be  reconstriicted,  and  the  result, 
though  slow,  is  grand  and  permanent. 

We  might  add  many  striking  instances  of  the  influences  of 
Christianity  on  the  progress  of  civilization,  but  time  will  not  pcrjnit. 
W'c  hasten  to  show  from  its  principles  and  institutions  that  it  must 
have  had,  and  must  continue  to  have  this  effect. 

The  first  thing  to  be  noted  is,  that  it  addresses  mankind  wilh 
divine  authority.  It  comes  in  the  name  of  God.  If  the  doctrines 
which  it  teaches,  and  the  threats  and  promises  it  contains,  ai-e  just 
and  good  in  themselves,  what  must  be  their  power  and  eflect  under 
the  sanction  of  Heaven  1  Religion  is  a  system  of  restraints,  ope- 
rating on  the  very  fountains  and  springs  of  action.  It  lays  its  com- 
mand and  authority  upon  the  heart — upon  the  passions — and  holds 
these  to  a  strict  accountability.  This  no  Jiuman  law  has  ever 
attempted  to  do.  Thus  Christianity  established  a  moral  power  in 
society,  which  is  founded  upon  this  great  truth — the  only  hope  of 
humanilj- — that  there  is  a  law  above  all  Innnan  law,  in  all  times 
and  in  all  places  the  .sarnc.  This  power,  established  at  the  foun- 
tains of  tliouglit,  of  impulse,  and  of  action,  greatly  influenced  tlic 
developments  of  society.  Hence  the  manners,  opinions,  and  laws 
of  Christendom  are  molded  and  improved  by  its  invisible  and  in- 
Uingiblc  agency.  In  order  to  perpetuate  this  moral  power  in  society 
it  was  necessary  to  give  it  a  visible  embodymcnt,  with  rules  and 
regulations.  Hence  the  visible  church  arose.  Her  general  rules 
are  by  divine  authority,  and  contained  in  the  New  Testament.  Her 
cxplanatoiy  and  prudential  rules,  to  guide  in  the  application  of 
Scripture  in  questions  of  morals,  were  gradually  produced  and 
ni'iliiplied,  forming  the  canon  hnu ;  and  every  intclhgent  citizen 
knows  liow  great  was  the  influence  of  this  body  of  ecclesiastical 
lav,-,  111  recovering  Europe  from  the  dark  ages,  and  in  reconstruct- 


248  General  History  of  [April, 

ing  and  perfecting  modern  society.  Little  does  the  ungrateful 
infidel  think,  while  he  enjoys  wealth,  safety,  and  consideration  in 
society,  that  he  is  indebted  for  them  all  to  the  rehgion  he  aliccts 
to  despise. 

Bm  in  matters  of  lilu'Tty  and  government,  politicians  and  states- 
men have  not  always  done  justice  to  religion.  The  genius  and 
institutions  of  Christianity  are  directly  opposed  to  the  two  great 
errors  in  the  world  alTecting  Imman  liberty  and  government,  viz., 
slavery  and  Iicrcdilnry  power.  We  do  not  now  refer  to  the  par- 
ticular question  of  slaver)'  which  agitates  our  own  country  :  but  to 
the  general  question  of  depriving  a  human  being  of  his  rights, 
privileges,  and  ])ersonal  freedom,  when  he  has  neither  forfeited 
noi  embarrassed  them,  or  cither  of  them,  by  his  own  misconduct 
or  crimes.  Thus  Christianity  struck  at  the  root  of  that  gi'cat  wrong. 
wliich  lias  existed  in  all  countries  and  in  all  ages — the  practice  of 
reducing  prisoners  of  wax,  and  debtors  unable  to  pay,  to  a  state  of 
slavery.  As  for  hereditary  political  power  or  monarchy,  there  is 
not  a  single  clcni'-nl  of  Christianity  in  favor  of  either.  The  Scrip- 
tures arc  directly  op]ioscd  to  both,  as  will  appear  from  a  brief 
sketch  of  the  Jewish  constitution ;  in  which,  perhaps  to  his  sur- 
prise, the  reader  will  see  all  the  eloments  of  our  own  glorious 
republic. 

The  Jewish  goveriunent  is  generally  considered  to  liave  been  a 
theocracy.  Wc  usually  attach  an  erroneous  idea  to  this  term. 
From  the  fact,  that  d'od  gave  the  ten  commandments  to  Jloses,  we 
conclude,  without  examination,  that  he  gave  all  the  laws  which 
Jloses  published  ;  and  because  he  occasionally  interfered  in  difficult 
questions,  and  gave  his  decision  by  the  high  priest,  we  infer  that 
lie  always  interfered,  and  directed  the  administration.  But  both 
these  conclusions  arc  ver)'  erroneous  and  injurious.  God  gave  the 
decalogue  without  any  agency  of  Moses ;  but  Moses  produced  the 
body  of  the  Jewish  law  by  the  legitimate  exercise  of  his  own  reason, 
aided  and  guided  by  inspiration.  Very  rarely  did  the  divine  Being 
interfere  in  the  administration  of  the  laws  without  the  agency  of 
the  magistrate ;  perhaps  never,  after  the  people  had  settled  in 
Palestine,  and  their  constitution  was  fully  developed  and  fixed. 
The  proper  idea,  therefore,  of  the  Jewish  theocracy  is,  that  the 
sentiment  of  religion,  requiring  a  constant  reference  to  the  will  of 
God,  as  king,  prevailed  in  the  production  and  administration  of 


1841.]  Civilization  in  iModcrn  Europe.  249 

the  Jewish  constitution.  Religion  was  the  foundation  of  the  civil 
machinery,  and  the  informing  spirit  that  directed  its  movements  ; 
and  the  mucli  more  deep  and  correct  impression,  prevailing  among 
llie  Jews  at  that  time,  of  the  constant  and  cfllcient  agency  of  tiic 
divine  Being  in  the  affairs  of  men,  led  them  to  seek  wisdom  of  liim 
in  all  their  plans  and  operations,  and  when  tlicy  were  successful 
and  prosperous,  to  refer  to  him  as  the  author  of  their  blessings. 
Tiiis  gave  rise  to  the  idea  of  theocracy ;  and  the  promise  of  God 
frequently  repeated,  and  more  frequejilly  fulfilled,  that  he  would 
guide  them  when  they  were  perplexed,  and  aid  them  when  they 
were  enfeebled,  completed  and  estabhshcd  the  idea.  But  the 
general  error  lies  in  supposing  his  governance  and  aid  were  inde- 
jicndcnt  of  their  reason  and  judgment.  Now  let  us  look  into  the 
'  Jewish  constitution  and  see  what  was  produced  by  the  predomi- 
nance of  tlie  religious  sentiment  in  the  minds  of  the  Jewisli  magis-  | 
trates  and  people.  I 
The  hislory  of  the  Jewish  government  divides  itself  naturally  j 
into  three  periods.  The  first  extends  from  the  times  of  the  twelve  | 
patriarchs  to  the  introduction  of  the  monarchy :  the  second,  from  \ 
the  introduction  of  the  monarchy  to  the  Babylonian  captivity  :  tlie  | 
third,  from  th.eir  return  to  Judea,  under  the  decree  and  protection  | 
of  Cyrus,  to  the  subversion  of  their  slate  by  the  Romans.  In  the  | 
first  period,  the  foundation  of  their  constitution  was  laid  in  tlie  | 
separate  existence  of  the  twelve  tribes  with  their  own  magistrates  | 
severally,  yet  united  as  one  nation  for  the  general  welfare  and  | 
common  defense.  The  cliief  magistrate  of  each  tribe  w^as  called 
the  head  of  tlie  tribe,  and  sometimes  senior  or  senator.  Every 
tribe  obeyed  its  own  prince,  wlio  appears  to  have  been  elected. 
As  llic  j)eople  increased  in  numbers,  various  heads  of  families 
luiited  together,  and  selected  some  individual  from  their  ov>'n  body 
for  their  leader  ;  to  whom  they  were  willing  to  submit  while  con- 
vinced of  his  virtues.  Tiiis  was  their  form  of  government  while  in 
Egypt.  Under  the  administration  of  Moses,  it  was  further  expanded 
by  the  appointment  of  an  additional  mmiber  of  judges,  and  the 
adoption  of  the  principle  of  appeal  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  magis- 
trate. These  judges  vrere  elected  by  the  suffrages  of  tlie  people 
from  those  who  by  their  authority  and  rank  miglit  be  rcckoneil 
among  tlioir  rulers.  The  inferior  judges,  that  is,  those  who  sujjer- 
intendcd  the  judicial  concerns  of  the  smaller  numbers  of  the  people, 


250  Gcveral  History  of  [April, 

were  s\ibordinale  to  the  superior  judges,  or  those  who  judged  a 
l;u-gcr  number ;  and  difficidt  cases  went  up  from  the  inferior  to  tlie 
superior  judges  :  vei-y  difficult  cases  were  appealed  to  Moses  him-  | 

self,  and  in  some  cases  from  Closes  to  the  high  priest.    Here,  when  \ 

the  efforts  of  human  reason  and  judgment  failed,  they  asked  and  a 

obtained  the  interference  of  Heaven.*  I 

The  various  civil  officers  were  dispersed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  | 

into  different  parts  of  the  country.     Those  of  them,  accordingly,  5 

who  dwelt  in  the  same  city,  or  the  same  neighborhood,  formed  the  | 

comitiu,  senate  or  legislative  assembly  of  their  immediate  vicinity-  \ 

Deut.  xix,  12  ;  xxv,  8,  9  ;  .Judges  viii,  14  ;  ix,  3-46  ;  xi,  5;  1  Sam.  \ 

Tiii,  4  ;  xvi,  4.  "SVhcn  all  that  dwelt  in  any  particular  tribe  were 
convened,  they  formed  the  legislative  assembly  of  the  tribe ;  and 
when  thcj'  were  convened  in  one  body  from  all  the  tribes,  they 
formed  the  legislative  as.^embly  of  the  nation,  and  w^ere  the  repre- 
sentatives of  all  the  people.    Josh,  xxiii,  1,  2;  xxiv,  1. 

These  were  the  leading  features  of  the  Jewish  constitution  prior 
to  the  introduction  of  monarch}'.  We  see  each  tribe  existing 
as  a  separate  civil  community,  independent  of  the  other  tribes  : 
here  is  the  idea  of  our  separate  independent  states.  But  although 
in  man)-  things  each  tribe  existed  by  itself,  and  acted  separately, 
yet  in  others  the  tribes  were  nnitcd,  and  formed  one  national 
commmiity.  If  any  affair  concerned  the  whole,  or  many  of  the 
tribes,  it  was  considered,  and  determined  in  the  legislative  as- 
sembly of  the  nation.  Here  is  the  idea  of  our  national  congress, 
ill  which  each  state  is  represented.  And  in  the  assembly  of  the 
magistrates  of  any  particular  city  forming  the  comitia  or  senate  of 
the  city,  we  have  the  idea  of  our  municipal  corporations.  And  in 
the  creation  of  these  magistrates  by  election,  we  have  seen  that  the 
sovereignty  resided  in  the  ))eople.  Indeed,  so  many  elements  of 
popular  freedom  arc  found  In  the  Jewish  constitution,  that  Lowman 
and  JTichaclis  are  in  favor  of  considering  it  a  democracy. \  Yet  this 
constitution  was  developed  under  the  divuie  direction,  and   csta- 

*  How  mliiral  is  lliis  applicalioii  of  rolipioii  to  the  development  of  society  ! 
It  will  expluiu  the  prcat  fnct,  well  attested  in  every  nation,  that  divine  inter- 
ference in  human  affairs  w.ts  mure  frctpicnt  in  the  early  periods  of  the  world 
than  in  later,  when  education  and  experience  were  suflicient  to  guide  man  in 
all  the  ordinary,  and  most  id'tlic  inoinciilous  atTairs  of  life. 

\  See  Watson's  Dictionary.     Article,  Government  of  the  Hebrews. 


lS-11.]  CiviUzation  in  Modern  Europe.  251 

]i.-hcd  under  the  divine  sanction.  How  passing  strange  is  it  llicn 
ihal  kings  siionld  daim  to  reign,  jure  divino !  Wliat  an  outrage 
upon  ic'ligion  and  comon  sense,  for  mortal  man  to  proclaim  himself 
king,  by  tlie  grace  of  God  !    {Rex  Dei  gratia.) 

The  introduction  of  monarchy  into  the  Jewish  constitution  was 
expressly  against  the  declaration  of  the  divine  will,  and  was  dc- 
nnuided  by  tlie  people,  in  the  days  of  Samuel,  when  they  had  be- 
come unworthy  of  liberty. 

The  history  of  this  transaction  is  recited  with  such  simplicity 
and  force,  tliat  we  need  do  no  more  than  read  it  to  you,  from  the 
eighth  chapter  of  first  Samuel,  in  order  that  you  may  feel  that  God 
is  against  monarchy: — "And  they  said  unto  Samuel,  Behold  thou 
art  old,  and  thy  sons  walk  not  in  thy  ways  :  now  make  us  a  king 
to  judge  us  lik-e  all  the  nations.  But  the  thing  displeased  Samuel, 
when  they  said,  Give  us  a  king  to  judge  us.  And  Samuel  prayed 
unto  tiie  Lord.  And  the  Lord  said  unto  Samuel,  Hearken  unto 
llic  voice  of  the  people  in  all  they  say  unto  thee  :  for  they  have 
not  rejected  thee,  but  they  have  rejected  me,  tliat  I  should  not 
reign  over  them.  According  to  all  the  works  which  they  have 
done,  since  the  day  that  I  brought  them  up  out  of  Egypt,  even  unto 
this  day,  wlierewith  they  have  forsaken  me,  and  served  other  gods  ; 
so  do  they  also  unto  thee.  Now,  therefore,  hearken  unto  their 
^•oice  :  howbcit  i/ct  protest  solcnmly  unto  them,  and  show  them  the 
manner  of  tlie  king  that  shall  reign  over  them.  And  Samuel  told 
nil  the  words  of  the  Lord  unto  the  people  that  asked  of  him  a 
king.  And  lie  said,  This  will  be  the  manner  of  the  king  that  shall 
reign  over  you  :  he  will  take  your  sons,  and  appoint  thcni  for  him- 
self, for  his  cliariots,  and  to  be  his  horsemen  ;  and  some  shall  run 
before  lu's  chariots.  And  he  will  appoint  him  captains  over  thou- 
sands, and  captains  over  fifties,  and  will  set  them  to  ear  his  groimd, 
and  to  reap  Ins  liarvcst,  and  to  make  his  instruments  of  war,  and 
instruments  of  his  chariots.  And  he  will  take  your  daughters  to 
be  confectionaries,  and  to  be  cooks,  and  to  be  bakers.  And  he  will 
take  your  fields,  and  your  vineyards,  and  your  olivcj^ards,  even  the 
best  of  them,  and  give  them  to  liis  servants.  And  he  will  take  tlie 
tcnili  of  your  seed,  and  of  your  vineyards,  and  give  to  his  officers 
and  to  Jiis  servants.  And  he  will  take  your  men-servants,  and 
your  maid-servants,  and  your  goodliest  young  men,  and  your  asses, 
and  jiut  them  to  his  work.     He  will  take  the  tenth  of  yoiu-  sheep  : 


253  General  History  of  Civilization,  etc.  [April, 

and  yc  shall  be-  his  servants.  And  ye  shall  crj'  out  in  that  day, 
because  of  your  king  which  ye  shall  have  chosen  you ;  and  the 
Lord  will  not  hear  you  in  that  day.  Nevertheless,  the  people  re- 
fused to  obey  the  voice  of  Samuel :  and  they  said,  Nay  ;  but  we 
will  have  a  king  over  us." 

We  have  further  said  that  the  .Scriptures  were  opposed  to  here- 
ditary political  power.  The  proof  of  this  we  see  everywhere  in 
the  Jewish  constitution  to  tlie  time  of  Saul,  the  first  king  ;  and  upon 
liis  acting  wickedly,  the  declaration  of  God,  by  the  mouth  of  his 
proplict,  was,  1  Sam.  xv,  28,  ''The  Lord  has  rent  the  kingdom  of 
Israel  from  thee  this  day,  and  has  given  it  to  a  neighbor  of  thine, 
lliat  is  belter  liian  tiiou." 

From  what  has  been  said  above,  taken  from  the  Scripture,  we 
see  that  the  declaration  of  God  is  in  favor  of  a  confederated  repub- 
lican government,  and  directly  opposed  to  monarchy,  and  to  all 
hercditary^  political  power.  And  this  declaration  is  further  confirmed 
by  the  prosperity  of  the  Jewish  people  during  sixteen  ages  prior  to 
their  kings,  and  their  general  distressed  situation  ever  after,  until 
their  final  ovi.'rllirow  b)-  tlie  Romans,  in  the  reigns  of  Vespasian 
and  Titus. 

It  would  extend  liiis  article  to  too  great  a  length  to  mention  tlic 
many  divine  ]irece])ts  and  cxiiortalions  which  prescribe  and  enforce 
llie  social  and  domestic  duties.  We  shall  pass  them  over  and 
mention  but  one  other  general  injunction  of  Christianity,  that  is,  uni- 
versal love  to  mankind,  which  lends  to  a  community  of  feeling  and 
of  nations.  This  is  the  only  religion  which  has  ever  overleaped 
ihc  limits  of  counlry,  witli  respect  to  fraternal  feeling,  and  has 
claimed  as  members  of  its  family  every  people,  and  kindred,  and 
tongue.  This  injiuielion  "1  universal  love,  worthy  of  a  heavenly 
religion,  is  enforced  by  the  ilu'ce  fi)llowing  high  considerations : — 
"  God  liatli  made  of  one  blood  all  nations,  to  dwell  upon  the  face  of 
the  earth."  .'Vll  these  nations  sjiruiig  from  one  blood,  are  redeemed 
to  one  common  worsin'p  by  one  I^ord  Jesus  Christ.  Hence  we  are 
required,  not  to  live  unto  ourselves,  but  unto  otliers,  in  order  to 
promote  the  supretne  hajipiness  of  man.  Under  the  influence  of 
these  injunctions  the  Christian  church  becomes  missionary,  and 
her  warrant  runs  in  these  words :  "  Go  yc  into  all  nations,  and 
preach  my  gosjiel  to  every  creature."  We  challenge  the  world  to 
show  in  Jicr  history  that  any  other  religion  was  missionary,  employ- 


ISll.]  Literary  Inslitutioiis.  253 

ing  only  moral  and  peaceful  means.  Did  the  philosopliers  of 
Greece  go  abroad  at  the  expense  of  fortune  and  life,  preaching 
their  doctrines,  collecting  their  disciples  into  societies,  and  reducijig 
tlicm  to  order,  and  subjecting  them  to  regular  rules.  Never  :  nor 
any  other  philosojihers.  Here  is  the  specific  difference  between 
all  otlicr  religions  and  systems  of  morals,  and  the  Clmstian  system, 
la  its  missionary  warrant  and  spirit  consists  mainly  its  conservative 
and  assimilating  power,  which  has  gradually  wrouglit  one  the  law 
of  nations,  established  upon  reason  and  morality,  a  law  unknown 
to  ancient  or  modern  paganism  or  Jlohammedanism.  These  are 
jiot  and  cannot  be  paiaies  to  this  law,  onl}"-  so  far  as  the}'  are  influ- 
enced by  Christian  polic}'.  This  modern  law  of  nations,  acknow- 
ledged now  in  Christendom,  applies  the  principles  of  morals  to  the 
conduct  of  states,  and  holds  them  responsible  for  their  policy,  and 
tlinl  delicate  and  almost  indefinable  thing  we  call  balance  of  ponwr 
iu  Europe,  is  the  uistrument  of  enforcing  obedience.  Hence  the 
dogs  of  war  have  been  chained  up  since  the  peace  of  1S15,  and 
tliongh  tliey  may  occasionall)^  growl,  as  now  between  France  and 
the  four  great  powers,  or  even  bark,  now  and  then,  as  recently  at 
Beyroot,  in  the  JlediteiTanean,  yet  they  will  not  be  let  slip  again 
in  Europe,  to  cause  her  cities  to  be  Avrapped  in  flames,  or  her 
])lains  to  be  desolated.  Christianity  has  muzzled  ihem,  and  she 
will  continue  to  soften  the  obdurate,  soothe  the  excited,  illmninate 
ilic  ignorant,  and  refine  the  barbarous,  until,  in  the  language  of 
f^cripiure,  "  the  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb ;  the  leopard  lie 
down  with  the  kid  ;  the  calf  with  the  j'oung  lion,  and  a  little  child 
shall  lead  them." 

Dickinson  College,  Dec,  ISIO. 


Art.  IV. —  OUigations  to  sustain  our  Literary  Institutions. 

"Suos  cultorcs  Ecientia  coronal." 

It  is  the  work  of  time  to  repair  the  ruins  of  the  fall.  If  man 
n  id  never  sinned,  a  degree  of  intelligence,  indefinitely  exceeding 
tliat  of  the  noblest  mind  in  the  present  state,  might  have  been  the 
jTivilcgo  of  all.  But  an  intellectual  as  well  as  moral  paralysis  has 
!-eized  the  nnnd,  enfeebled  its  powers,  and  shrouded  it  in  darkness. 


254  Literary  Instiiutions.  [April, 

A:id  now  Heaven  has  decreed  that  man  shall  knoiv  by  his  own 
exertions,  or  remain  for  e^'cr  in  ignorance.  In  defiance  of  all  dis- 
abilities, mind  has  asserted  its  original  right,  and  aspired  to  its  first 
designed  perfection.  It  has  devised  its  own  means  of  accomplish- 
ing its  noble  designs,  and  entered  extensively  upon  their  applica- 
tion. Among  the  most  iniluenlial  of  these  are  seminaries  of 
learning,  ^^'ith  the  view  of  presenting  their  claims  to  the  foster- 
ing care  of  an  ciilighlcncd  comnumity,  we  shall  attempt  an  ampli- 
fication of  the  following  proposhion  : — 

It  is   thk  duty  ov   nvj^ny    philantiiuopist,    patriot,  axd 

ClIllISTIAN,  to  EXTKN-n  LIP.KRAL  PATRONAGE  TO  LITERARY  IX- 
STITUTIOXS. 

In  support  of  this  sentiment,  we  urge  in  the  first  place,  the  hear- 
ing of  education  vpon  Iiurnun  hapjnjicss.  We  would  not  fail  care- 
fully to  honor  the  Christian  doctrine,  that  there  is  no  true  happiness 
apart  from  the  sviprcme  devotion  of  the  soul  to  its  Creator,  Re- 
deemer, and  S;uictifier.  But  education,  in  a  popular  sense,  includes 
all  that  moral,  as  well  as  intellectual  and  physical  training,  neces- 
sary to  the  dcvclopinciU  of  the  man.  It  infringes  no  claims ;  it 
supercedes  no  work  of  evangelical  religion.  But  it  is  mind  that 
enjoys,  consequently  th.e  limit  of  the  mental  capacity  must  be  the 
limit  of  enjoynicnt. 

The  arcana  of  nature  may  be  stored  ^vith  the  purest  luxuries  of 
intellect,  but  mental  power  nuist  reach  their  depths,  and  develop 
their  treasures.  Jlind  may  be  the  appropriate  scene  of  mental 
revel,  but  it  reveals  its  mysteries,  and  opens  its  riches  to  none  but 
cultivated  minds.  Truth  is  the  food  of  intellect.  Without  it,  the 
mind  of  loftiest  original  famishes  and  dwindles  to  nothing.  But  in 
this  world  truth  and  en-or  commingle  with  chaotic  confusion.  How 
then,  without  mature  abstraction  and  corrected  reason,  is  this  wild 
irregularity  to  yield  to  order's  law,  and  present  a  scene  of  chas- 
tened loveliness  to  the  mind  ?  Of  all  there  is  of  human  hfe,  none 
but  the  stinted  present  lives  for  our  enjoyment  till  governed  memory 
brings  back  the  past,  and  educated  association  assembles  kindred 
facts  from  ocean,  earth,  and  air.  The  sensations  and  perceptions 
of  other  days,  though  crowded  willi  unrcvealed  elements  of  happi- 
ness, die  away  in  the  distance,  until  a  true  conception  makes  them 
live  again.  The  materials  of  thinking  float  uncontrolled  in  dreaming 
wildness  till  a  purified  imagination  summons  them  to  the  gathering, 


]S41.]  Lilerary  Institutions.  255 

and  tlicn,  by  mnsic  combination,  romance  becomes  reality.  Man 
lias  an  original  susceptibility  of  beauty,  grandeur,  and  siiblimity ; 
and  the  clcincnt.s  of  these  emotions  live  in  endless  variety  where 
the  C)'c  of  ignorance  never  gazed — where  the  foot  of  cowardice 
never  trod. 

Ihil  educated  moral  feelings,  and  strengthened  moral  powers,  are 
sources  of  the  ]-)urest  and  highest  cnjopnent.  The  principles  of 
morality  are  as  immutable  as  truth,  but  between  these  and  man's 
dcjn-avity  there  is  no  affinity.  It  must  be  granted,  even  by  the 
jihilosophcr,  that  a  supernatural  change  in  the  moral  sentiments  and 
feelings  is  indispensable  to  success  in  virtue,  and  hence,  of  course, 
to  pure  felicity  ;  and  thus  the  soul,  renovated  by  religion,  tliough 
uneducated,  may  feel  in  hind  the  thrills  of  purest,  holiest  bliss ; 
liut  in  degree  this  happiness  must  be  limited  by  the  mental  capa- 
city. It  must,  however,  be  remembered  that  the  correctness  of  our 
moral  judgments,  and  the  strength  of  the  feeling  of  moral  obligation, 
depend  upon  the  development  and  education  of  this  department  of 
mind.  Tlie  soul  learns  what  to  love  and  what  to  hate,  to  approve 
and  disapprove.  The  practiced  moral  eye  gathers  light  from  ob- 
scurer points  in  moral  darluiess.  The  chastened  mind  feels  all 
tlie  heaven  of  virtue  and  the  hell  of  vice. 

Tims  it  is  seen,  that  while  nature's  best  resources  of  human 
bliss  are  denied  the  illiterate,  and  even  mind  itself  conceals  its 
treasures  from  the  uncnligiitencd,  genuine  science  scales  the 
massive  walls  which  have  long  and  sullenly  inclosed  mind's  ricliest 
treasures.  It  bears  away  its  trophies  from  the  arena  of  contest 
witli  ii^norancc,  poverty,  fanaticism,  and  pride.  It  penetrates  the 
arcana  of  nature,  and  revels  in  the  mysteries  of  mind.  It  sunders 
truth  from  error,  and  gathers  luxuries  from  the  most  imfruitful  soil 
of  nature.  How  important  then  its  influence  upon  the  happiness  of 
man  ;  and  who  can  fail  to  see  in  this  the  high  obhgation  to  sustain 
institutions  of  learning? 

But  consider,  in  the  next  place,  hoio  mdispcnsablc  is  education 
to  human  usefulness.  Man's  social  nature  sufficiently  indicates 
that  he  was  designed  to  impart  happiness  to  others.  That  he 
exists  for  himself  alone,  and,  hence,  is  at  liberty  to  surrender  to 
llic  (loniinion  of  unminglcd  selfishness,  is  a  sentiment  worthy  of  tiic 
dark  ages,  but  altogether  too  gross  and  vulgar  for  the  days  of  science 
and  refinement.     Without  attempting  to  prove  it,  wc  shall  assume, 


256  Literary  Institutions.  [April, 

as  universally  conceded,  ihat  all  human  beings  are  under  tlie 
strongest  obligations  to  do  every  thing  reasonably  possible  to  pro- 
mote the  happiness  of  others,  and  proceed  to  remark,  that  liberality 
is  essential  to  v.scfulncss.  In  the  unequal  distribution  of  means, 
and  the  imperious  wants  of  stdTcring  multitudes,  is  cleai-ly  seen  the 
design  to  invite  the  spirit  of  benevolence.  How  numerous  and 
interesting  the  opportunities,  in  the  present  social  order,  to  bless  j 

the  poor  in  his  humble  cottage,  and  relieve  the  distressed  by  the  | 

offerings  of  charity  !    How  many  and  worthy  arc  the  institutions  of  1 

learning  and  religion  which  ujgc  their  imporlimate  claims  upon  our  ^ 

kindness  and  liberality  !    And  he  who  would  be  useful  must  not  \ 

seek  to  Imow  liow  limited  inay  be  his  appropriations,  and  screen  1 

him  from  the  rebukes  of  society ;  but  with  intelligent  discrimina-  | 

tion  he  must  know  all  the  claims  upon  his  funds,  and  bound  his  | 

benevolence  only  by  his  means.     And  can  it  be  questioned  whether  ] 

education  promotes  liberality  ?    Where  have  j'ou  seen  such  hum i-  | 

bating  exhibitions  of  parsimony  as  among  the  ignorant  rich  ?   minds  | 

which  liavc  never  been  enlightened  by  the  genial  rays  of  science,  | 

or  expanded  by  the  power  of  education  ?    And  where  have  you  | 

witnessed  the  pourings   forth  of  noble  benevolence  as  among  the  | 

cnhghtcncd— -the  minds  of  purer,  richer  intclhgence  ?  | 

But  he  nn'^■takes  the  genius  of  social  order  who  supposes  libe-  ] 

rality  to  be  the  only,  or  even  the  greatest  element  of  usefulness.  | 

Those  are  mo.~t  uscfid  whose  lofty  minds  oppose  the  strongest  bai--  | 

rier  to  the  corruptions  and  delusions   of  the  age  ;  who  resist  with  ! 

greatest  moral  power  the  encroachments  of  vice  and  the  heavings  1 

of  internal  depravity  ?    ^^'o  to  the  world  !    but  moral  disorder  is  | 

interwoven  with  the  vcr}'  frarnc-work  of  society  ;  and  where  will  | 

it  find  its  antagonist  principle  if  not  in  sanctified  intelhgence  ?   Who  5 

will  dispute   the  reign  of  superstition  and  fanaticism,   if  not  the  | 

noble,  valiant  soul  that  has  been  gathering  its  power  for  successive  | 

years  from  the  study  of  truth  '.     Indeed,  it  must  be  conceded  that  ] 

men  of  pure  and  extensive   learning  are  the  conservatives  of  the  ' 

world.  j 

Gcimine  usefulness  includes  also  direct  labors  for  the  good  of  i 

mankind.     Educated  minds  infuse  themselves  into  the  social  elc-  j 

ments  around  them.     They  arc  tiie  sources  of  intellectual  light  and  : 

genial  warmth  to  minds  enshrouded  in  ignorance,  and  chilled  by  the 
winds  of  superstition.     They    spend  themselves    for  the  general 


ISll.]  Litcranj  Institutions.  257 

good ;  eillicr  by  imparting  direct  instruction,  or  moving  them  to 
intelligent,  virtuous  action,  by  the  force  of  a  noble  example.  In- 
deed, from  .science  must  flow  that  pure  and  mellowing  light  whicli 
shall  illumine  our  mental  darkness  and  soften  the  asperities  of  our 
nature.  Education  must  dismantle  the  world  of  its  rustic  garb,  and 
array  it  in  robes  of  imsullied  beauty.  Devoted  learning  must; 
breathe  upon  this  chaos  of  mind,  and  restore  it  to  order  and  loveli- 
ness. Sanctified  intelligence  must  speak  to  this  world  of  slumber- 
ing intellect,  and  rouse  it  to  conscious  life.  Thus  it  is  seen  that 
education  contributes  largely  to  human  usefulness  as  well  as  happi- 
ness. And  liere  is  our  appeal  to  the  philantliropist.  He  is  the 
lover  of  his  race.  This  elementary  principle  with  him  has  ripened 
into  an  easy  habit.  He  identifies  himself  with  every  thing  that 
involves  the  happiness  and  usefulness  of  man.  How  then  can  he 
fail  to  be  a  patron  of  learning  ? 

But  we  remark  farther,  in  support  of  our  general  proposition, 
that  elevated  intelligence  is  indispe?isable  to  the  perpetuity  of  a 
free  government.  In  an  absolute  monarchy  the  excellence  of 
civil  institutions  depends  upon  the  purity  and  intelligence  of  the 
royal  line.  No  demand  is  made  upon  the  wisdom  or  ignorance  of 
the  common  people  in  controlling  the  heads  of  civil  departments,  or 
in  framing  the  code  by  which  they  are"to  be  governed.  Theirs  is 
a  blind  imequivocal  obedience,  whether  the  government- be  easy  or 
ojipressive.  Thus  the  ignorance  of  the  people  is  the  security  of 
despotism.  Tj-ranny  trembles  at  the  approackof  light,  and  science 
is  the  dread  of  aristocratic  power  !  But  in  a  republican  government 
it  is  widely  dilferent.  Here  the  riglits  of  every  man  arc  sacred. 
Ever)-  man  is  a  candidate  for  the  highest  ofl[iccs  of  state,  and  every 
officer  depends  for  his  elevation  directly  or  indirectly  upon  the 
elective  franchise. 

The  people  then  should  be  sufficiently  intelligent  to  appreciate 
their  own  rights.  In  any  government,  however  free,  some  indi- 
vidual rights  arc  surrendered  to  the  general  good.  Societj',  and 
especially  civil  society,  can  exist  upon  no  other  principle.  Every 
man  who  claims  the  immunities  of  government  has  sacrificed  private 
interests,  for  which  these  immunities  are  supposed  to  be  more  than 
an  equivalent.  A  violent  resumption  of  these  rights  by  the  people 
would  be  to  tear  away  the  very  foundation  of  the  political  compact, 
wrest  from  the  government  the  elements  of  its  strength  and  great- 


238  Literary  Institutions.  [April, 

ncss,  and  seciu-e  ihe  sway  of  anarchy  or  despotism.     And  it  would  1 

be  equally  dangerous  for  the  people  to  surrender  their  reserved  I 

equivalent  rights  to  the  jiower  of  aspiring  rulers,  or  the  control  of  % 

political  demagogues.     Civil  convulsions  and  prematiure  revolutions  I 

have  invariably  arisen,  cither  from  the  aggressions  of  the  govern-  -.i 

ment  upon  the  rights  of  the  people,  or  the  encroachments  of  the  | 

people  upon  the  rights  of  the  government.     Where  then  is  our  | 

security  unless  the  great  mass  of  the  people  are  sufHciently  edu-  I 

Gated  to  dcfme  their  own  rights ;  to  clearly  distinguish  between  I 

those  which  arc  voluntarily   surrendered,    and   those   which  are  | 

sacredly  guarantied  to  them  by  the  civil  compact  ?  | 

But  the  officers  of  a  free  government  are  to  be  chosen  from  | 

among  the  people :  every  man  is,  therefore,  a  candidate  for  tJie  '» 

highest  offices  of  government,  and  every  office  is  itself  a  science.  I 

The  powers  and  duties  of  the  executive,  legislative,  and  judicial,  i 

arc  all  to  be  accounted  for  and  appreciated  upon  scientific  prin-  :| 

cijiles :  and  even  the  subordinate   offices  of  county  and  \.o\x\\,  all  | 

bear  a  clear  relation  to  the  political  whole,  which  none  but  an  edu-  3 

cated  mind  can  accmatcly  trace  and  properly  define.     Ajid  how  | 

can  a  man  hope  to  lie  qualified  for  any  of  those  high  and  sacred  | 

functions  without  a  thf)rough  cducaliou?    It  will  not  be  assuming  J 

too  much  to  say  that  the  theory  of  every  office  in  the  government  | 

ought  to  be  thoroughly  understood  by  every  freeman,  as  well  to  a 

enable  In'm  to  detect  the  failures  of  incumbents,  as  to  be  himself  | 

qualified  for  any  office  to  which  lie  may  be  elevated  b}'  the  voice  | 

of  the  people.  9 

But  it  may  be  esteemed  even  more  important  for  those  who  are  ^ 
eligible  to  such  high  responsibilities,  to  have  reached  a  mental 
maturity  adequate  to  the  most  diorough  investigation  and  critical 
judgment.  Education  is  not  so  much  a  collection  of  scientific  facts 
as  it  is  a  development  of  mind.  It  inures  to  patient  investigation 
and  profound  research.  It  teaches  how  to  overcome  difficulties, 
and  mal<e  recreation  of  the  onerotis  duties  of  practical  life.  This 
is  the  mental  culture  to  which  every  youth  should  aspire.  i\Iind 
unbalanced  is  the  sport  of  caprice  and  the  prey  of  fanaticism.  It 
magnifies  indefinitely  the  evils  of  life,  while  it  fails  to  perceive  their 
remedies  in  the  provisions  of  nature.  If  such  a  mind  were  to  be 
elevated  by  the  power  of  fortune  to  responsible  rank,  it  would  be 
but  to  make  it  tlie  prey  of  its  own  deficiencies — the  focus  of  ridi- 


IS  11.]  Literary  Institutions.  259 

cule  and  contempt — and  liurry  it  to  its  appropriate  level ;  or  lo 
impose  upon  the  credulity  of  its  miserable  constituents.  Here  too 
is  the  source  of  tyranny  and  usui-pation.  The  ignoramus,  forced 
above  his  level,  is  suddenly  intoxicated  with  the  love  of  power, 
and  reeling  from  his  equilibrium,  proudly  glories  in  the  hallucina- 
tions of  liis  own  insanity.  Jealous,  hauglity,  and  impatient  of  re- 
straint, he  sees  a  rival  in  every  noble  intellect ;  tramples  upon  every 
aspiring  genius,  and  treats  as  enemies  all  who  dare  to  question  his 
infallibility  !  Will,  conscience,  and  reason  must  bow  at  the  shrine 
of  his  ambition,  and,  to  appease  his  anger,  the  miserable  slaves  of 
his  po^ver  must  affect  to  smile  at  their  chains  !  Proper  intellectual 
cultivation  woidd  have  held  him  within  his  appropriate  limits,  or 
made  him  worthy  of  liis  responsible  trust. 

\Vc  urge  further  that  extensive  knowledge  is  essential  to  the  safe 
and  Icgitiinate  use  of  tJie  elective  franchise.  Ainong  tlie  candidates 
for  responsible  offices  there  will  be  almost  every  grade  of  talent 
and  rliaractcr:  some  will  ask  your  sutTragc,  whose  political  schemes 
are  visionary,  impracticable,  or  ruinous  ;  and  many  will  be  destitute 
of  tliat  moral  integrity  which  alone  can  qualify  them  to  be  the  rulers 
of  a  free  people — the  dupes  of  a  party,  or  the  slaves  of  misguided 
passion  !  Everj'-  man  who  votes  should  be  sufficiently  intelligent 
and  virtuous  to  distinguisli  between  aspiring  egotism  and  genuine 
merit ;  to  dissect  and  expose  the  wikhiess  of  political  heresy,  and 
rebuke  with  merited  defeat  tlie  deluded  recreant  who  would  sacri- 
fice the  purest  constitution  and  the  dearest  freedom  to  his  own 
dei)raved  ambition ! 

But  suppose  the  reverse  of  all  tliis  to  be  true.  Suppose  the 
people  lo  be  destitute  of  sufficient  discrimination  to  determine  what 
rights  they  have  suiTcndered  by  the  conditions  of  the  civil  com- 
Jiarl,  and  wliat  they  have  reserved  as  sacred  and  indispensable  to 
true  freedom  ;  and  thus  almost  certain  to  attempt  by  violent  hands 
to  wrest  from  the  civil  power  the  very  basis  upon  whicli  it  stands  ; 
or  basely  yield  to  the  imperious  claims  of  despotism  all  that  is 
glorious  in  hberty,  or  ennobling  in  the  sway  of  a  well-regulated 
democracy !  Suppose  your  sons  reared  witliout  a  knowledge  of 
the  functions  of  office  ;  thrown  into  the  emergencies  of  official  life 
witli  minds  enfeebled  and  dwarfed  by  inaction ;  brought  into  col- 
h.-^ioii  with  the  stubborn,  stormy  elements  of  public  action  without 
tlic  mental  energy  and  power  which  alone  can  secure  a  triumph  ; 


2G0  Literary  Institutions.  lApril, 

and,  finally,  suppose  the  lioldcrs  of  the  cleclive  francliisc  to  be 
incapable  of  apprccialinL,'  real  merit ;  incompetent  to  analyze  the 
vagaries  of  heated  fanaticism,  and  detect  the  f  lir,  but  shallow  visage 
of  heartless  hj^ocrisy  ;  the  ready  captives  of  designing  selfishness  ; 
the  cowardly  dupes  of  political  intrigue  ;  and  how  long  should  \vc 
boast  of  pur  free  institutions  ?  How  soon  would  the  fair  fabric  of 
American  liberty  reel  from  its  base  and  crush  the  freedom  of  a 
world  in  its  f;dl  !  General  intelligence  is  iiulispensahle  to  the 
•perpetuity  of  a  free  government.  Here  then  is  the  appeal  to  the 
patriot.  He  is  a  lover  of  liis  country.  He  values  above  all  price 
the  ptuity  and  freedom  of  licr  institutions.  He  watches  with  a 
jealous  eye  every  cloud  which  lowers  in  the  political  heavens.  He 
is  the  soul  of  freedom,  of  which  education  is  the  only  conservator. 
How  tlicn  can  he  f  lil  to  be  an  active,  thorough  supporter  of  literarj' 
institutions  ? 

But  education  is  an  important  auxiliary  to  evangelical  religion. 
It  aids  religion  by  enlarging  and  strengthening  the  mental  capacity 
for  the  reception  of  its  elevated  bliss.  We  have  seen  that  it  is 
mind  that  enjoys ;  licncc,  obviously,  even  the  happiness  of  Clii-is- 
tians  must  be  limited  by  their  mental  capacities.  Conceive  of  a 
mind  in  its  infant  state  imder  the  control  of  religion ;  its  power  of 
perceiving  relations  limited,  reason  and  judgment  but  slightly  de- 
veloped ;  its  ideas  all  particular,  and  these  thrown  together  without 
rule  or  order;  its  natural  and  moral  sensibilities  distorted  and  un- 
controlled; the  will  governed  by  the  most  inadequate  inducements, 
determining  u]ion  jiiirtial  dovclo])mcnts  and  mistaken  relations,  and 
how  does  the  l]-i[i;iiness  of  sucli  a  mind  compare  with  that  of  a 
Newton,  a  Locke,  or  a  Wesley  ?  Here  we  see  the  influence  of 
education  in  filtinir  the  mind  for  religious  enjoyment.  Under  its 
genial  influence  tlic  intellect  expands  to  its  intended  gxeatness.  Its 
perceptions  arc  true  and  clear ;  its  associations  corrected,  and  its 
classifications  based  upon  correct  analysis  and  true  relationship. 
Instead  of  a  [lartial  survey  of  objects  of  mental  decision,  the  intel- 
lect now  grasjts  the  largest  wholes.  The  will  dcteniiines  upon 
large  intellectual  surveys,  and  obeys  the  suggestions  of  the  noblest, 
truest  generalization.  Such  a  mind  education  presents  to  the  high, 
ennobling  joys  of  Christianity.  And  can  the  congeniality  of  science 
and  religion  be  further  questioned  ? 

Again:  it  furnishes  char  and  decisive  evidence  of  the  divinity 


ISU.]  Litcrarii  Insiiliitions.  2G1 

of  the  Christian  si/stcm.  If  the  Christian  rchgion  be  what  il 
cl:iinis  to  be,  a  system  of  facts,  it  has  nothing  to  fear  from  tlic 
dovclopments  of  science.  Science  is  trulli,  and  the  principles  of 
truth  never  \\ar  with  each  other  ;  nay,  tlicy  reciprocally  sustain 
each  other.  Every  new  ])rinci])Ic  which  science  reveals  adds 
strength  to  the  fortress  of  truth,  and  gathers  fresh  lam-els  for  the 
brow  of  its  votary.  If  religion  were  a  fable  ;  if  it  were  the  crea- 
tion of  designing  men  to  impose  upon  credulity  and  fanaticism,  it 
nn'ghl.  justly  fear  that  the  discoveries  of  science  would  tend  to 
unjnask  its  deformity,  and  destroy  its  influence.  Hence,  every 
.system  of  false  religion  cautiously  avoids  the  light  of  science. 
Heathenism  seeks  the  covert  of  intellectual  night,  and  withers 
from  the  gaze  of  day.  The  secm-ity  of  Romish  superstition  and 
priestcraft  is  in  the  ignorance  and  degradation  of  her  people  !  The 
CN]iansive  power  of  intelligence  would  sunder  her  chains,  and  rescue 
her  deluded  victims  from  her  withering  grasp !  If  it  is  true  that 
the  Church  of  Rome  builds  schools  and  colleges,  it  is  equally  true 
that  her  literature  is  but  a  miserable  apology  for  the  sublime 
realities  of  science.  It  is  a  quietus  upon  ihc  minds  of  the  peo])le 
to  allay  the  restless  risings  of  intellect  for  its  own  immortal  cle- 
ment !  It  is  a  feint  to  deceive  still  more  her  deluded  votaries. 
Nay,  it  is  but  the  certain  echo  of  her  own  religious  dogmas  and 
gross  superstitions  ! 

But,  on  the  contrary,  pure  Christianity  has  ever  sought  the 
light.  It  stands  forth  in  bold  relief,  and  proudly  challenges  the 
most  scientific  investigation.  The  absence  and  defects  of  science 
liave  ever  been  its  greatest  calamities.  But  as  the  mists  of  igno- 
rance have  rolled  away,  it  has  shone  like  the  orb  of  day  in  a  clear 
and  cluudlcss  sky.  The  literature  of  the  Bible  is  vindicated  by 
the  literature  of  nature.  Philosophy  and  geology  confirm  its  his- 
tory, and  the  developments  of  every  revolving  year  attest  the  in- 
spiration of  its  pages.  How  strong,  then,  the  support  of  science 
to  the  Christian  faith  !  How  important  its  aid  to  the  triumphs  of 
the  cross ! 

But,  finally  :  it  heightens  inimeasuraUy  our  views  of  the  divine 
jxrfcclions ;  especially  His  knowledge,  his  wisdom,  and  his  power. 
In  the  heavens  above,  the  uneducated  mind  perceives  nothing  but 
a  ningnificent  arch,  studded  with  twinkling  stars.  A  vacant  stare 
and  midcfined  wonder  answer  to  the  beaming  glories  of  the  noc- 

VoL.  I.— 17 


262  Literary  Institutions.  [April, 

turnal  heavens.  But  tlierc  the  Christian  ])hilosopher  bcliolds  the 
rolhng  orbs  of  magnificent  systems,  the  creation  of  imlimited  power. 
In  the  "  eye  of  liis  mind,"  worlds  after  worlds,  peopled  with  higher 
orders  of  intelligence,  rise  in  endless  variety  from  the  dominions  of 
infinity,  and  wheel  their  ccasclc.«s  rounds  in  perfect  harmony ;  all 
proclaiming  the  inimitable  skill  and  overwhelming  greatness  of  their 
divine  Original.  "  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
firmament  showcth  his  handiwork." 

Here  we  must  arrest  the  progxcss  of  thought.  The  theme  is 
endless.  Its  adequate  development  would  extend  this  article  far 
beyond  our  design.  But  we  have  found  access  to  the  Christian. 
He  is  identified  with  the  spiritual  interests  of  the  world.  He 
is  pledged  to  the  faithful  sujiport  of  every  thing  essential  to  the 
success  of  evangelical  religion.  Education  expands  the  mind  for 
the  reception  of  its  elevated  bliss.  It  furnishes  clear  and  decisive 
evidence  of  the  inspiration  of  its  doctrines ;  and  immeasurably 
heightens  our  views  of  the  divine  perfections.  The  Christian  must, 
then,  he  the  patron  of  genuine  science. 

Thus  it  has  fully  ajipearcd  that  sajwtified  learning  is  inseparably- 
identified  with  the  happiness  and  usefuhiess  of  human  intelligences  ; 
that  it  is  indispensable  to  th.e  perpetuity  of  a  free  government ;  and 
that  it  is  an  important  auxiliary  to  evangelical  religion.  Verily, 
"  .suos  cuhores  scicntla  coronat."  Science,  or  hiowledgc,  croions 
her  votaries.  The  philanthropist,  the  patriot,  and  the  Christian, 
then,  must  rally  to  its  support.  And  need  we  insist  that  the  principal 
mode  of  doing  this  successfully  is  by  the  erection  and  patronage 
of  literary  institutions  ?  Where  arc  the  radiant  points  from  which 
the  rays,  of  intellectual  light  diverge  to  illuminate  the  world  ?  What 
are  our  gushing  fountains,  whence  the  pure  streams  of  intelligence 
roll  through  our  thirsty  land  ?  Experience,  wisdom,  and  gratitude, 
combine  to  point  in  reply  to  our  institutions  of  learning,  from  the 
common  school  to  the  nobly  endowed  and  powerful  university.  In 
view  of  the  whole,  oar  general  proposition  will,  therefore,  be  uni- 
versally admitted, — 

It  is  the  duty  of  eveiiv  puil.^ntjiropist,  patriot,  and 
Christian,  to  exte.nd  Lii;t:i;AL  patronage  to  literary  in- 
stitutions. 

If  there  be  a  man  who  lias  no  claims  to  either  of  these  ennobling 

appellations,  he  may  be  expected  to  demand  exemption  from  the 

17* 


ISll.]  Uphafii's  Mc7ital  Philosophy.  2G3 

burdens  of  education.  Be  not  surprised  if  you  find  liis  children 
gro^^'ing  up  in  ignorance  ;  if  these  gems  of  immortahly  are  fading 
and  clianging  from  his  criminal  neglect ;  if  a  spirit  more  daring 
than  the  rest,  which  is  struggling  for  release  from  this  unnatural 
thraldom,  should  be  menaced  and  frowned  into  comphance  with 
the  demands  of  hauglity  egotism  and  blind  superstition !  Be  not 
aslonisiicd  if  you  find  the  whole  weight  of  his  influence  sustained 
by  llic  aristocracy  of  wealth,  leveled  at  the  proudest  monuments  of 
industry,  benevolence,  and  intelligence  !  Expect  to  be  denied, 
when  you  ask  him  for  funds  to  aid  the  noblest  enterprises  of  the 
day  !  He  is  neither  a  philanthropist,  a  patriot,  nor  a  Christian ! 
W\ml  else  can  you  expect  of  him  than  neglect  of  his  childr-en,  con- 
tempt of  learning,  ajid  hostility  to  benevolent  institutions  ?  But 
who,  we  ask,  will  envy  liis  happiness,  or  wish  to  be  identified  witli 
liis  career  ?  Not  the  noble  defenders  of  republican  rights,  whose 
"  lives,  and  fortunes,  and  sacred  lienor,"  arc  fearlessly  tlirown 
between  a  trembling  nation  and  menacing  despotism :  not  the 
jiroud  protectors  of  helplessness,  innocence,  and  purity  :  not  the 
devoted  worshipers  of  mind's  exalted  sovereign.  These  are  the 
immutable  pillars  of  education. 
Gouvcrneur,  A^.  Y.,  1840. 


AiiT.  V. — 1.  Elements  of  Mental  Fhilosnpht/,  cmhracing  the  two 
departments,  of  the  Intellect  and  Sensibilities.  By  Tuo.vas  C. 
Ui'HAM,  Professor  of  ]\Icntal  and  floral  Philosophy  in  Bowdoin 
College.     In  two  volumes.     New-York  :  Harper  and  Brothers. 

2.  A  Philosopldcal  and  Practical  Treatise  on  the  Will.  In  one 
volume,  by  tlie  same  Author. 

3.  Abriilgi/ient  of  the  ahove-mentioned  Work  on  the  Intellect  and 
Sc/isihililies.     2  vols,  in  one.     For  Academies  and  Schools. 

■1.  Outlines  of  Disordered  Mental  Action.  Contained  in  Harper's 
Family  Library,  No.  100.     By  the  same  Author. 

I.  That  philosophy  is  one  of  the  essential  wants  of  the  hiuuan 
i'oul,  is  a  proposition  which  does  not  rest  merely  on  the  assump- 
tions* of  professed  philosophical  writers,  or  upon  their  varied  and 
Philosophy,  as  philosophy,  is  specifically  and  truly  demanded  by  the  in- 
IcUccl,  03  much  as  religion,  art,  the  state,  industry,  and  the  sciences ;  it  is  a 


264  Upham's  Menial  Philosophy.  [April, 

persevering  efforls  lo  meet  lliis  demand.  ]\Icn,  who  think  at  all, 
have  a  philosophy  of  some  sort ;  and  they  do  not  utter  their  thoughts 
extensively  on  any  subject  without  disclosing,  in  some  degree,  the 
features  of  their  philosophy.  Especially  is  this  true  of  all  oral  and 
written  discussions,  which  treat  of  the  social,  political,  and  religious 
relations  of  man,  and  liic  responsibihties  which  spring  from  these 
relations.  History,  pocliy,  romance,  political  economy,  jurispru- 
dence, theology,  nmsic,  jiainting,  statuary,  architecture ;  each,  and 
all  of  tlicm,  deal  with  the  elements  of  hu.man  nature  ;  and  unfold, 
more  or  less  fully,  and  with  more  or  less  of  truth,  the  principles  of 
mental  philosophy. 

In  the  highest  relations  which  man  sustains — his  relations  to 
God,  as  Creator  and  Benefactor,  and  in  the  revelations  which  God 
has  made  to  man,  in  view  of  these  relations,  whether,  in  b'.icient 
times,  he  spake  to  the  fathers  by  the  prophets,  or,  in  these  last  days, 
to  us,  by  his  Son,  or  by  his  Spirit — whether  these  communications 
relate  lo  man's  cluu-aclcr  by  nature,  his  voluntary  conduct,  his  ruin, 
his  recovery,  his  hopes,  jirospects,  or  inheritance — the  elements  of 
humanity  arc  unfolded  widi  wonderful  clearness  ;  and  with  every- 
one of  these  di>closures,  philosophy,  human  philosojihy,  has  inier- 
nieddled.  There  is  not  an  opinion,  or  a  doctrine,  in  the  whole 
range  of  religious  belief,  or  in  the  compass  of  the  Bible,  which  has 
not  been  modified,  in  the  mind  of  its  advocates  or  opponents,  b)' 
philosophical  opinions.  The  modifications  which  philosojihy  has 
given  to  religious  belief,  and  the  consequent  .positions  of  the  various 
Christian  denominations,  might  furnish  a  theme  of  deep  interest ; 
but  this  is  not  the  place  for  its  discussion. 

The  religious  systems  of  pagan  nations  are  strongly  marked  by 
the  pliilosophical  opinions  of  the  age  and  the  communities  in  which 
ihey  arc  developed.  The  same  is  true  of  forms  of  government, 
and  systems  of  education.  Tliey  all  partake  of  the  spirit  of  the 
reigning  philosophy,   and  exhibit  tlie  necessity  of  just  views  of 

necessary  result  whicli  is  derived  from,  and  depends  upon — not  the  genius  of 
any  indiviJu;il— but  the  genius  of  luimaiiity  itself,  and  the  progressive  develop- 
ment of  the  faculties,  with  vhich  huninuity  is  gifted." — Introductioyi  to  Hist. 
Phil.,  ly  M.  Cousin,  LMcrg'.i  Tr.,  p.  21. 

"  Gentlemen,  1  have  endeavored,  in  this  lecture,  to  show  you  that  philosophy 
is  one  of  tlie  specific,  certain,  permanent,  and  indestructible  demands  of  the 
human  mind." — lb.,  p.  26. 


IS-II.]  Uphaiii's  Menial  Pldlosophy.  2G5 

pliilosopliy,  especially  in  a  counlry  where  mind  is  vigorously  acting 
or  acted  upon.  No  nation  has  a  higher  necessity  for  correct  views, 
universally  diflused,  than  our  own.  Nowhere  else  are  there  more 
active  inllucnces  impelling  the  human  mind  to  its  highest  effort. 
In  no  country  are  there  stronger  motives  to  the  highest  mental  | 

culture,   or  a  wider  scope  for  the   exertion  of  menial  power,  or  j 

gTcalcr  facilities  for  misdirecting  and  perverting  such  power,  and  \ 

in  no  coimtry  conld  such  perversions  be  more  disastrous.     Mental  ' 

j)hilosopliy  of  some  kind,  then,  wc  must  have.  We  cannot  dis- 
pense with  it  if  we  would.  As  undoubtedly  "  there  are  bad,  as 
well  as  good  philosophers,  as  there  are  different  modes  of  religious 
worship,  as  there  ai-e  defective  works  of  art  and  of  policy,  and  bad 
systems   of  industry  a^nd  physics,"*  we   come    to  an  interesting  ! 

inijuiry.  | 

II.   What  shall  he   the  type  of  our  pilnlosophij  ?    and  vjhence  3 

.v/«;//  ire  ohtain  it  ?  \ 

Sh;iil  we  impurt  it  from  Great  Britain  ?    It  is  certain  that  Eng-  \ 

land  and  Scotland  have  nursed  men  of  profound  scholarship,  whose  | 

metaphysical  inquiries    have    exerted   a   prodigious    influence    on  j 

both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.     But  if  we  must  rely  upon  them  for  oiu:  | 

systems,  who  shall  furnish   our  text  book  ?    We  may  revere  the  5 

names   of  Locke,   Reid,    Stewart,   Brown,  and  others  of  kindred  j 

spirit,  and  read  their  works  with  profit ;  but  we  can  never,  in  this  I 

countiy,  make  the  name  of  either  a  passport  for  all  that  he  has  j 

written  ;  and,  if  we  master  the  writings  of  all,  wc  have  not,  from 
these  alone,  a  system  of  mental  philosophy  which  meets  our  neces- 
sities. Neither  of  these  writers  has  given  us  a  full  view  of  the 
wlioli;  iniiid,  and  all  its  phenomena ;  nor  can  the  student  reconcile 
all  their  disputes  and  divergencies.  He  finds  his  mind  perplexed 
v.'itli  the  conflicting  opinions  of  these  gi-eat  men,  and  not  less  per- 
plexed with  various  elements  of  his  own  nature,  of  which  he  finds 
no  satisfactory  solution  in  any  of  these  writers.  If  he  has  the 
perseverance  to  grapple  with  all  the  conflicting  opinions  he  here 
meets  with,  he  yet  hungers  and  thirsts  for  something  which  neither 
of  them  has  unfolded  ;  and  few  persons  have  the  skill  necessai-y  to 
weave  into  one  harmonious  system  the  elements  of  truth,  dispersed 
in  the  writings  of  them  all. 

Wjiat  then  shall  the  student  do  ?    Shall  he,  with  Cousin,  "  after 
*  Cousin. 


266  Uphani's  Mental  PJiihsophy.  [April, 

reading  the  Scotdi  mctapliysicians  lill  lie  1ms  rend  llicm  out,"  dive 
inlo  the  labpinths  of  German  ])hilosopliy,  and  make  liiinself  familiar 
with  the  discussions  of  Kant,  Ficlile,  Schelling,  and  Hegel,  or 
shall  he  learn  wisdom  from  the  licatcd  controversies  of  their  dis- 
ciples ?  If  so,  which  of  the  conflicting  forms  of  German  philosophy 
shall  he  espouse  ?  That  which  has  well  nigh  subjected  the  whole 
ration  to  the  withering  embraces  of  an  atheistic  pantheism  ?  Or 
sliall  he  take  sides  with  Leo  and  llcnyslcnberg,  and  their  few 
nobIe-hc;u:led  coadjutors,  who,  having  narrowly  escaped  the  general 
WTCck  of  piety  and  principle,  by  clinging  to  die  Bible,  despite  of 
their  philosophy,  are  now  laboring  with  a  boldness  and  zeal  worthy 
of  the  martyr  age  to  supplant  this  "  latest  form  of  infidelity?" 

Or  shall  the  student  save  himself  the  drudgery  x>i  this  pilgi'imagc, 
and  its  varied  conflicts,  by  adopting  the  eclecticism  of  the  peer  of 
France,  and  make  up  his  philosojjhical  creed  from  the  Introduction 
to  the  History  of  Phildsophy,  and  the  ingenious  Criticisms  upon 
Locke  ?  Or  shall  ho  gnllicr  his  system  from  the  philosophical 
fragments  scattered  with  oracular  abruptness' through  the  WTitings 
of  Coleridge?  However  we  may  admire  the  genius  of  Coleridge 
and  Cousin,  and  whatever  advantages  may  be  derived  from  their 
published  works,  it  seems  quite  certain  that  they  cannot  unite  the 
suffrages  of  American  scholars ;  and  it  is  equally  certain  that 
neither  of  them  has  furnished  us  with  a  complete  system  of  mental 
philosophy,  nor  even  the  elements  from  which  a  consistent  system 
can  be  UTOught.  The  hiizh  expectations  of  the  French  professor 
seem  not  to  have  been  fully  realized.  Dissatisfied  with  what  he 
terms  "the  sage  and  timid  doctrines  of  Edinburgh,"  which  he  con- 
sidered "  only  a  vigorous  ]irolest  on  behalf  of  common  sense  against 
the  skepticism  of  Hume,  he  ''  sought  in  Germany  for  a  philosophy 
of  such  a  masculine  and  brilliant  character"  as  might  command  the 
attention  of  Europe,  and  be  able  to  struggle  with  success,  on  a 
great  theatre,  against  the  genius  of  the  adverse  school."*     If  the 

•  Cours  dc  Philosophic  par  M.  Cousin,  Lecon.  xii. — "  The  preference  of 
the  more  boastful  syslcin,"  says  Sir  Jain<s  M'Intosh,  "over  a  pliilosopiiy  thus 
chiclly  blamed  for  its  nindcst  pretensions,  docs  not  seem  to  be  entirely  justified. 
by  its  poriiianent  authority  in  the  country  wliicli  gave  it  birth  ;  where,  however 
powerful  its  influence  still  continues  to  bo,  its  doctrines  do  not  appear  to  have 
now  many  supporters  ;  and,  indeed,  the  acconiplislied  professor  himself  rapidly 
shot  through  llantiauism,  and  now  apjiears  to  rc.«,  or  to  stop,  at  the  doctrines 
of  Schelling  and  Ilcgcl,  at  a  point  so  high  that  it  is  hard  to  descry  from  it  any 


1S41.]  Uphcan's  Mental  Philosophy.  2G7 

professor  has  failed  in  liis  nltcnipt,  il  is  not  o-\ving  to  want  of  genius, 
or  of  zeal  in  liis  researches.  Indeed,  it  is  daily  becoming  more 
evident  that  we  cannot  import  a  system  of  pliilosopliy  from  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic  which  shall  meet  the  necessities  of 
American  mind.  Tlie  effort  to  do  this  must,  from  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  prove  a  failure.  Cousin  assures  the  young 
men  of  France,  that  philosophy  cannot  be  perfected  in  Great 
I'Jritain,  inasmuch  as  she  is  but  an  island.*  Without  commenting 
upon  the  truth  or  the  spirit  of  this  sentiment,  we  may  express,  with 
equal  confidence,  the  conviction  that  j)hiIosophy  cannot  be  perfected 
in  France  till  more  of  her  gifted  intellects  are  "  baptized  wilh  the 
Holy  Ghost."  Philosophy  has  no  genial  soil  where  Christianity 
has  not  a  stronger  hold  than  she  has  yet  gained  among  the  edu- 
cated classes  in  that  countr}'.  With  all  the  deference -which  Cousin 
pays  to  Christianity,  and  all  the  fine  eulogiums  he  bestows,  and  all 
hi?  condescension  in  "taking  lier  by  the  liand"  and  lifting  her  into 
notice,  the  writer,  who  would  furnish  us  a  sound  and  safe  philo- 
sophy, must  have  more  correct  notions  of  the  Christian  sysleiiithan 
those  unfolded  in  his  published  works. 

Equally  confident  is  our  conviction  that  we  cannot  transplant  the 
German  philosophy,  and  find  profit  in  its  culture  here.  It  lacks 
tlie  essential  element  of  Christianity.  It  does  not  niurture  that 
faith  which  binds  man  in  harmony  with  God,  and  thus  secures  har- 
mony in  the  conflicting  elements  of  his  own  soul.  It  iiuist,  at  least, 
be  naturalized  before  il  can  flourish  in  this  country ;  and  then,  if 
it  is  not  spiritualized,  its  extensive  culture  woulil  be  a  sore  calamity. 

ili.slinotioii  bctwcrn  oVijccis — even  that  indispensable  distinction  between  reality 
and  illusion/' — Progress  of  Elherial  Philosophy,  p.  210. 

*  "  Now  Knjrl.ind  lias,  strictly  speaking.  Tor  some  time  past,  and  I  migbt 
Ely  Tor  the  last  lialf  century,  not  contributed  her  share  to  the  philosophical  re- 
searches of  civilized  Europe ;  no  celebrated  work  on  metaphysics  has  been 
published  in  England.— We  may  say  that  England  and  Scotland,  which  have 
always  exerted  a  very  feeble  influence  on  European  jihUosopliy,  have  now 
ceased  to  exert  upon  it  any  influence  whatever." — Inlrod.  Hisi.  Ptiilos.,  p.  423. 

"England,  gentlemen,  is  a  very  considerable  island;  in  England  every 
thing  is  insular,  every  thing  stops  at  certain  limits,  nothing  is  there  developed 
on  a  great  scale.  England  is  not  destitute  of  invention  ;  but  history  doclaros 
lb.1t  she  does  not  possess  that  power  of  generalization  and  deduction  which 
alone  is  able  to  push  an  idea,  or  a  principle,  to  its  entire  development,  aud 
draw  from  it  all  the  consequences  which  it  incloses."— /i.,  nole,  p.  453. 


268  UpiianCs  Mental  PJiilosopliy.  [April, 

Its  tendencies  are  debasing,  and  filled  to  corrapt  Clirislianily,  and 
level  it  to  the  relish  of  depraved  appciile,  rather  than  to  spirilitalize 
Immanit}',  and  elevate  it  to  the  dignity  of  the  Cluistian  life.  It 
brings  down  the  gi-eat  Jehovah,  not  merely  to  human  comprehension, 
but,  as  it  were,  to  the  common  level  of  proud  humanity  ;  and  thus 
clieats  the  soul  into  the  idea  that  it  has  soared  to  "  the  third 
heavens,"  and  held  iiilercourse  witli  the  Invisible. 

We  can  readily  synijiaUiize  with  those  who  have  sought  ear- 
iicstly  for  truth  in  the  German  philosophy.  We  have  shared 
somewhat  in  the  high  lio]ics  which  have  been  entertained  of  the 
success  of  these  researches.  We  could  even  have  patience  with 
the  wildest  views  of  jihrenological  speculation  and  experiment,  when 
not  pushed  in  the  i-jiCC  of  revelation  and  of  common  sense,  so 
deeply  have  we  felt  the  need  of  a  pjhilosopliy  of  the  lahole  mind. 
We  have  been  disposed  to  search  for  it  in  all  directions,  which 
sconcd  to  promise  even  a  solitary  ray  of  light.  But  our  expecta- 
tions from  Germany  are  not  realized.  We  despair  of  finding  the 
philosophy  wc  need,  fitted  to  our  hands,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  Systems,  in  order  adequately  to  meet  our  wants,  must 
grow  up  and  be  matured  among  ourselves.  They  must  be  fur- 
nished by  those  who  arc  familiar  with  the  developments  of  mind  in 
this  couiitr}-,  and  familiar  with  our  political,  religious,  and  educa- 
tional institutions.  We  do  not  undervalue  the  treasures  which  have 
been  accumulating  in  Europe.  Let  us  have  all  the  aid  they  can 
yield  us.  We  do  not  approve  of  that  national  vanity  which  would 
spurn  the  profound  researches  of  others,  because  forsooth  they 
lived  upon  an  island,  or  because  they  were  trained  under  another 
form  of  govcriunrnl.  ^^'e  counsel  him  who  would  give  us  a  system 
of  philosophy,  which  sliall  outlive  himself,  to  study  with  care  the 
systems  wliicii  have  been  produced  in  I'lngland,  France,  and  Ger- 
many. If  ignorant  of  the  Englisli  and  IScotch  metaphysicians,  or 
even  of  liie  Englisli  ilivines  of  the  seventeenth  century,  let  him  not 
dream  of  satisfyini:;  the  American  ])ro])le  by  any  startling  novelties 
which  he  can  origin, \te,  or  which  he  can  import  from  abroad  with 
but  a  smattering  knowledge  of  Euroj>ean  s))cculations.  \Mioevcr 
would  write  a  philoso{)hy  for  the  next,  as  well  as  the  present  gene- 
ration, has  a  work  before  him  of  no  trifling  magnitude  ;  and  he 
assumes  no  ordinary  responsibility.  There  is  a  gi'owing  thirst  for 
the  study  of  mental  science   in  this   country,  which,  if  rightly 


ISn.]  Uphuni  s  Mental  Pliihsophj .  2G9 

diruclcd,  will  result  in  lasting  good.  But  it  must  not  be  tampered 
Avilli.  The  interests  at  stake  are  too  momentous  to  allow  the  iii- 
crcasiniT  desires  for  a  better  philosophy  to  remain  unsatisfied,  or  to 
be  satisfied  with  that 

"  Which  leads  lo  bewilder— or  drizzles  to  blind." 

Didkulties  must  be  encountered  in  the  study  of  mental  science 
and  in  the  furnishing  of  text  books ;  but  this  should  be  no  dis- 
couragement ;  the  same  is  true  of  every  good  enterprise.  It  is 
well  that  it  is  so.  The  human  nund  is  fitted  to  grapple  with  diffi- 
culties, and  it  is  by  surmoimling  these  that  its  strength  is  matured 
— its  discipline  perfected. 

III.  We  propose,  in  the  next  place,  to  state  brief  y  some  of  the 
difficulties  tvJiich  have  embarrassed  the  study  of  mental  philosophy 
and  occasioned  its  neglect.  There  are  difficulties  which  are  inherent 
in  the  nature  of  the  mind  itself,  and  others  which  are  merely  inci- 
drntid.     Of  these  difficulties  we  notice, — 

1 .  7V/C  mind  is  invisible.  It  cannot  be  approached  and  examined 
by  the  senses,  as  objects  that  are  visible  and  tangible.  It  can  be 
studied  only  in  its  operations,  and,  consequentljr,  there  are  mysteries 
coiniectcd  witli  its  study  not  to  be  met  with  in  other  studies. 

2.  The  great  diversities  of  mind.  Tlierc  is  diversity  in  original 
constitution — and  diversity  as  the  result  of  training.  There  is, 
perhaps,  as  great  diversity  \\\  mental  constitution  and  culture  as 
there  is  in  features  and  complexions  ;  and  we  cannot  study  the 
mind  so  easily  as  we  can  the  countenance. 

3.  Human  guilt  cmharrasses  the  study  of  mind.  We  cannot 
reflect  upon  our  mental  states,  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  with  per- 
fect composure,  while  conscious  that  they  are  wrong.  Self-study 
is,  ihercfore,  often  painful.  Unregulated  passions  and  propensities 
are  unfavorable  to  mental  study,  as  they  are  to  mental  cultiure.  If 
we  attempt  to  study  the  minds  of  others,  we  are  liable  to  err  from 
a  wrong  estimate  of  intellectual  and  moral  character.  Prejudices, 
or  partiahties,  modify  our  conclusions,  and  lead  us  to  wrong  results. 
Ouilt  leads  to  concealment  and  disguise.  So  that  we  must  read 
men  through  a  veil. 

4.  Engrossment  of  the  mind  in  other  subjects  has  been  an  ob- 
.'■tadr.  The  study  of  other  things  has  had  higher  attractions. 
^^■hat  shall  I  cat?    What  shall  I  drink?    How  shall  I  be  rich? 


270  Upham^s  Mental  Philosophy.  [April, 

How  scciu'C  honor  or  power  ?  Sucli  liavu  been  the  absorbing  topics 
of  inquiry,  while  few,  comparatively,  have  inquired,  What  am  I? 
What  is  the  condition,  character,  destiny  of  my  spirit  ?  It  is  far 
easier  to  follow,  or  rather _/?oa^  tqwn  tlic  ceaseless  current  that  bears 
the  mind  outward,  amid  the  objects  of  sense,  than  to  retire  within 
and  question  the  invisible  spirit,  and  listen  attentively  to  its  half- 
suppressed  responses. 

5.  Neglect  of  the  science  in  systems  of  education.  \A^hat  pro- 
vision is  made  for  it  in  the  education  of  the  mass  of  mankind] 
Till  recently  it  has  been  nearly  confined  to  the  college  or  profes- 
sional seminary,  wliere  )iot  one  in  a  thousand  of  the  people  would 
find  its  text  books,  or  attempt  its  study  ;  and  even  there  it  has  oc 
cupicd  but  a  low  place  in  tlie  estimation  of  the  m'ass  of  students. 
Few  have  mastered  its  text  books  ;  and  fewer  stiU  Jiave  mastered 
the  science.  i\Iany  who  have  studied  much  have,  at  length,  ar- 
rived at  a  great  degree  of  uncertainty,  and  there  have  abandoned 
the  science.  This  has  often  been  the  result  of  another  obstacle, 
namely, 

6.  Its  controversial  aspect.  Nearly  every  text  book  has  been 
controversial.  One  object  of  tlie  great  work  of  Locke  was,  to 
overthrow  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  and  other  kindred  theories, 
and  to  establish  other  views  in  opposition  to  them.  In  endeavoring 
to  trace  all  ideas  to  sensation  and  reflection,  he  prepared  the  way 
for  others  to  push  liis  premises  to  some  hazai'dous  conclusions,  and 
rendered  it  necessary  to  combat  some  of  his  views.  Tlius  was 
developed  tlie  theory  of  tlic  pure  reason  as  a  souice  of  ideas,  and 
as  a  gi-oimd  of  evidence  and  knowledge ;  and  thus  transcendental- 
ism has  been  engendered,  to  become  in  its  turn,  and  perhaps  at  no 
distant  period,  the  theme  of  renewed  controversy.  Reid,  Stewart, 
Brown,  Paine,  Kant,  Cousin,  all  devote  much  of  their  strength  to 
tlie  business  of  exposing  and  refuting  supposed  errors  ;  and  by  this 
course,  doubtless,  cacii  fell  into  some  errors  which  might  liave  been 
avoided  by  a  different  course. 

7.  'J'hese  controversies  have  been  the  more  perplexing  by  being 
connected  with  theological  controversy.  Theological  theories  have 
been  adopted ;  and  men  have  appealed  to  the  Bible,  and  to  contro- 
versial philosophy,  to  sustain  them.  And,  on  tlic  oilier  hand, 
philosophical  theories  have  been  framed,  and  men  have  intrenched 
them  amid  the  doctrines  of  the  church,  and  appealed  to  the  Bible 


18-11.]  Uplianis  Mental  Philosophy.  271 

to  sustain  them,  and  thus  philosophy  and  theology  have  alternately 
supported  and  preyed  upon  each  other. 

8.  Another  cause  of  embarrassment  has  arisen  from  embracing 
in  jthihsophical  discussiojis  such  speculations  as  transcend  the 
poU'Crs  of  the  human  mind.  Il  was  a  most  important  thought, 
struck  out  by  Locke,  when,  in  the  company  of  his  friends,  on  a 
certain  occasion,  he  was  perplexed  with  certain  speculations,  "  that 
before  we  set  ourselves  upon  inquiries  of  that  nature,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  examine  our  own  abilities,  and  see  what  objects  our  under- 
standings were,  or  were  not  fitted  to  deal  with."  It  would  have 
been  well  for  philosophy  if  all  writers  had  been  equally  modest. 
Ancient  treatises  on  mental  philosophy  are  much  occupied  wilh 
speculations  relative  to  the  essence  of  mind,  and  with  various  other 
inquiries  which  caiuiot  be  solved,  or  the  solution  of  which  could  be 
of  no  practical  utility  ;  nor  have  such  speculations  wholly  ceased  ; 
nor  is  their  pernicious  influence  entire])'  extinct.  All  such  inquiries 
and  discussions,  aiming  to  solve  what  is  beyond  the  reach  of  human 
knowledge,'  necessarily  embarrass  the  study  of  that  \vhich  may  be 
known ;  and  the  evils,  which  have  been  thus  occasioned,  are  not 
easily  estimated. 

9.  Another  source  of  embarrassment  is  found  in  defective  classi- 
ficalipn.  We  may  speak  thus  confidently,  because  no  two  authors 
have  perhaps  used  the  same  classification,  or  have  maintained  entire 
uniformity  in  their  use  of  language.  Among  such  diilerenl  systems 
and  usages  some  must  be  defective.  The  embarrassments  thus 
occasioned  may  be  illustrated  by  reference  to  the  two-fold  view  of 
the  mind  adopted  by  Locke  and  by  many  others  since  his  day. 
Suppose  wc  attempt  to  arrange  all  the  mental  states  in  these  two 
dcjiartmcnts,  the  understanding  and  the  ivill.  Wc  cannot  proceed 
in  this  way  without  meeting  with  serious  difficulties  ;  for  there  is 
a  class  of  mental  states  which  do  not  seem  to  belong  to  cither  tlie 
one  or  the  other.  The  appetites  of  hunger  and  thirst,  the  love  of 
life,  the  desire  of  happiness,  and  various  other  appetites  and  pro- 
pensities, and  particidarly  the  afTeclions,  seem  not  to  belong  cither 
to  the  will  or  the  understanding,  however  closely  they  may  stand 
connected  with  cither  of  these  departments.  So  of  emotions,  and 
so  of  those  simple  desires  which  may  be  awakened  by  any  object 
whii  h  c;ui  be  presented  to  us  through  the  understanding.  ^^  hilo 
they  are  thus  distinct  from  the  understanding,  and  may  result  from 


I 


272  Uphani's  Mental  PJdlosojjJuj.  [April, 

its  opernlions,  wc  arc  also  lo  rcincinber,  lliat  llicy  arc  not  to  be  con- 
founded with  the  will,  since  it  is  cerluiii  that  ihcy  often  sway  and 
control  the  will's  action,  which  necessarily  implies  that  they  arc 
not  identical  with  it.  Desires  aj-o  ofleir  opposed  to  the  movement 
which  the  will  makes,  A  sense  of  duty,  for  instance,  or  feeling  of 
obligation  sometimes  influences  the  action  of  the  will  in  opposition 
to  specific  desires.  Here  is  nianifcstlj'  the  secret  of  some  of  the 
diflicullics  connected  with  President  Edwards'  Treatise  on  the 
Will.  It  was  written  on  the  basis  of  the  two-fold  view  of  the  mind, 
whicli  would  embrace  all  its  phenomena  in  the  understanding  and 
the  will.  The  late  work  on  the  will  by  President  Day  recognizes 
this  as  Edwards'  view,  embracing  in  the  will  not  only  the  executive 
poiocr,  or  that  which  jiuts  forth  action,  but  also  a  permanent  state 
of  the  mind,  which  might  be  termed  dominant  preference,  and  also 
the  affections.  Edwards  somewliere  speaks  of  the  affections  as 
"  the  higher  acts  of  the  irill."  This  view  necessarily  confounds 
desires  and  volitions,  a  verj'  serious  error  in  philosophy,  which  .Mr. 
Locke  takes  particular  pains  to  guard  against.  "  Will  and  desire," 
says  that  writer,  "  must  not  be  confounded." — Ch.  xxi,  sec.  80. 
Much  of  llie  obscurity  and  perplexity,  growing  out  of  the  discus- 
sions respecting  the  freedom  of  the  will,  self-determining  power, 
&c.,  are  occasioned  by  this  defective  classification.  Many  of  the 
discussions  of  the  present  day  are  not  free  from  these  embar- 
rassments. 

10.  Nearly  allied  to  this  dilllcully  is  that  of  diversity  in  the  use 
of  terms.  If  men  agree  in  classing  the  mental  faculties,  still  if 
tliey  dilTer  in  the  use  of  terms,  the  progress  of  investigation  is  em- 
barrassed, and  much  inconvejiience  and  misunderstanding  occa- 
sioned. 

But  some  writers,  as  wc  have  seen,  confound  desires  and  volitions, 
and  use  the  terms  inlercliangcably  ;  and  others,  who  would  distin- 
guish them,  are  not  always  consistent.  Some  confound  the  terms 
understanding  and  reason;  while  others -suppose  the  things  signi- 
fied to  be  distinct,  and  lo  require  a  corresponding  use  of  terms. 

The  temi  reason  is  used  variously,  sometimes  denoting  the  de- 
dt'ctivc  fac\dly,  or  that  by  which  processes  of  reasoning  arc  carried 
on,  and  sometimes  as  synonymous  with  judgment;  while  others 
would  use  it  to  denote  //((//  povcr  hi/  wliich  the  soid  originates 
hnoivlcdge  leithin  itself,  and  lo  which  another  would  give  (the 


ISII.]  Ui)liam''s  Menial  Philosophy.  273 

Scotch  writers  for  instance)  the  name  of  suggestion,  or  the  sug- 
gestive power. 

Some  writers  use  tlie  term  will  to  denote  merely  the  executive 
jwtfcr,  and  suppose  it  to  be  uniformly  controlled  by  the  desires  ; 
wiiilc  ollicrs  suppose  it  to  have,  in  common  with  other  parts  of  the 
mind,  power  appropriately  its  own  ;  and  others  still  suppose  its 
jiowcr  absolute,  in  the  sense  of  being  independent,  in  some  case  at 
least,  of  all  control  bj'  motives. 

The  words  freedom,  liberty, necessity,  ability,  inabilifj^  cause  and 
cflcct,  self-determination,  and  doubtless  others,  arc  used  in  different 
senses  by  different  writers,  and  the  embarrassments  thus  occasioned 
have  been  very  great. 

11.  Another  obstacle  has  arisen  from  the  preparation  of  philo- 
sophical systems  in  the  closet,  and  treating  the  science,  as  it  were, 
iinlcpcndently  of  mind  in  its  ceaseless  activity,  in  its  living  and 
practical  manifestations.  It  has  hardly  seemed  paradoxical  to  say 
of  a  man  that  he  was  a  profound  pliilosopher,  but  wanting  in  com- 
mon sense  ;  or  that  he  was  a  great  metaphysician,  but  very  igno- 
rant of  human  natm-e.  The  truth  is,  no  man  can  be  a  2}>'octical 
jihilosopher  merely  by  reading  books ;  much  less  can  he  MTite  a 
book  v.-hich  shall  carry  his  philosophy  to  the  intellect  and  heart  of 
men  in  the  busy  world.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  univriticn  philo- 
sophy in  the  world  ;  and  there  arc  sagacious  men,  who  have  never 
read  a  book  on  metaphysics — who,  scarcely  knowing  the  meaning 
of  the  term,  arc,  nevertlieless,  profound  philosophers.  They  liavc 
sludict!  liring  men — have  experimented  upon  men — and  ihey  well 
know  how  10  touch  the  springs  of  action  in  the  human  soul,  and 
make  mm  do  their  bidding.  Base  men  sometimes  acquire  this 
power,  and  use  it  fearfully.  Philosophical  writers  need  to  study 
men,  not  as  mere  thinking  abstractions,  but  as  living  souls,  acting 
out  their  ceaseless,  living  energies.  The  true  philosopher  is  he 
who  studies  man  in  all  his  diversified  states  of  thought  and  feeling, 
of  j)assion  and  action  ;  man  in  sohtude  and  -society ;  man  in  the 
iiaturn!  and  healthful  action  of  his  mental  powers,  and  in  the  wild- 
ness  of  disordered  mental  action  ;  man  in  prosperity  and  adversity  ; 
as  the  child  of  nature,  of  education,  and  of  grace.  He  may  ac- 
quaint liimself  with  text  books,  but  he  must  also  study  mind 
WilhiM  liunself,  and  receive  lessons  of  instruction  from  the  hoary 
headed  sage,  and  from  the  prattling  infant.     It  needs  hmlly  be 


274  *       Upham's  Menial  riiilosopliy.  [April, 

said,  lliat  books  of  pliilosoj)li3'  have  not  always  been  thus  pre- 
pared. 

12.  'Another  difFiculty  has  been  found  in  the  want  of  text  books 
luliich  view  the  mind  as  a  whole,  and  undertake  to  trace,  analyze, 
and  classify  all  the  mental  powers.  We  have  had  treatises  on  the 
will,  and  on  the  understanding,  and  on  the  affections,  but  what 
WTitcr,  till  recently,  has  attempted  to  give  us  an  analysis  of  the 
whole  of  the  phenomena  of  mind,  and  aiTange  them  philosophically? 
The  treatment  of  some  of  tlio  departments  of  mind,  without  having 
other  departments  distinctly  in  view,  must  obviously  modify  the 
modes  of  discussion,  as  well  as  the  conchisions  to  which  they  tend. 
To  appreciate  the  discussions  of  a  writer  on  any  department  of 
mental  science  wc  need  to  have  some  general  view  of  his  philosophy 
of  the  ivholc  inind ;  but  this  we  caimot  always  obtain;  and  the 
inconsistencies  which  ajipear  to  us,  in  the  views  we  thus  examine, 
with  other  parts  of  our  philosophy,  lead  us  to  the  conclusion,  that 
the  author  is  inconsistent  with  himself,  or  at  variance  with  truth, 
wlien  a  clear  apprehension  of  his  whole  sysicin  might  remove  the 
difficulty.  Few  writers,  however,  have  seemed  to  have  a  clear 
and  systematic  view  of  llic  whole  mind,  and  hence  their  obscurity 
in  the  treatment  of  particular  phenomena. 

13.  Another  serious  embarrassment  has  arisen  from  pursuing 
menial  science  independently  of  revelation.  It  is  true  that  the 
Bible  was  not  written  to  teach  a  system  of  mental  philosophy,  but 
it  docs  unfold  the  elements  of  human  character  as  no  mere  human 
production  has  ever  done.  We  shall  have  made  substantial  pro 
gi-ess  in  the  knowledge  of  mind  when  the  mass  of  the  community 
will  study  the  Bible  for  this  purpose,  unfolding  their  hearts  to  its 
searchings,  and  studying  themselves  in  its  light.  Authors  will 
never  give  us  perfect  systems  of  philosophy,  till  they  perfect  them 
by  the  Bible.  Tiic  Bible  and  die  human  mind  must  be  studied 
together ;  and  in  the  place  of  abstract  metaphysical  speculations, 
which  h.avo  often  embarrassed  investigation,  and  then  warped  the 
Bible  to  harmonize  with  mistaken  views,  we  need  the  simple  dis- 
closures of  revelation  to  unfold  the  tnic  condition  of  man  as  a  fallen 
being,  and  thus  give  a  clew  to  the  study  of  mind  in  its  native  fallen 
condition.     A  distinguished  writer'  has  said  that, — 

*  Isa;ic  Taylor.     Essay  introductory  to  EJwarJs  on  the  Will. 


15-11.]  Vpliani's  Menial  ndlosopliy.  275 

"  Apart  from  any  tlicological  principles,  if  tlic  actual  condition  of 
human  natiiro  bo  contemplated  as  a  matter  of  physical  science,  it  must 
be  admitted  to  have  sustained,  from  v.hatevcr  cause,  a  universal 
damage,  or  shock  ;  inasmucli  as  iis  higher  facidlies  do  not,  like  the 
faculties  of  the  lower  classes,  work  invariabh",  or  work  auspiciously  ; 
but  arc  often,  and  in  a  vast  proportion  of  instances,  overborne,  defeated,  J 

and  destroyed  ;  or  they  He  dormant,  wliile,  in  no  instances,  do  lliey 
take  that  fidl,  free,  and  perfect  course,  ■which  is  abstractedly  proper 
to  ihcm."' 

If  "pliysical  science"  teaches  the  fact,  the  Bible  explains  it; 
and  Avc  may  safely  study  this  explanation,  as  we  study  the  mind 
itself.  Indeed,  can  we  hope  for  satisfactory'  results  till  we  do  this  ? 
We  think  not.  We  despair  of  seeing  the  science  of  mind  occu- 
pying its  proper  place,  and  exerting  its  appropriate  influence,  till  it 
is  studied  in  close  connection  with  tlie  Bible,  and  with  sometliing 
of  the  same  humble  and  teachable  spirit  with  which  we  sliould 
study  our  dut}'  and  destinj--  in  that  blessed  book. 

IV.  Wc  may  now  proceed  to  inquire  how  far  the  uorhs  before 
us  are  fitted  to  overcome  the  obstacles  here  referred  to,  and  to  an- 
swer as  text  boohs  of  mental  philosophy.  It  is  worthy  of  remark, 
lliat  the  author  has  liad  peculiar  facilities  for  maturing  his  system, 
and  of  submitting  its  several  parts  to  the  test  of  repeated  experi- 
ment, in  the  practical  business  of  his  profession.  Having,  for 
many  years,  been  successfully  engaged  in  teaching  tlie  science, 
and  not  having  early  committed  hitnself  exclusively  to  any  previous 
system,  but  by  a  careful  study  of  all  the  metaphysical  works  wliicli 
liave  been  accessible  in  this  country,  whether  in  the  Englisli,  Frcnrl], 
or  German  language,  he  has  been  at  liberty  to  gather  up  the  ele- 
ments of  truth,  and  combine  them  in  a  manner  somewhat  new, 
wliile  yet  the  appearance  of  novelty  and  claims  of  originality  seem 
to  have  been  cautiously  avoided.  The  excessive  caution  and 
modesty  of  pretensions  will,  doubtless,  operate  with  some  minds 
against  the  works  in  tliis  age  of  bold  professions  and  promises  ;  but 
cannot,  we  believe,  prevent  their  silent,  but  sure  progress  in  se- 
curing public  confidence.  '  We  have  carefully  read  them  a  second 
and  a  third  time,  and  now  return  to  them  again  with  increasing 
profit  and  delight.  Not  but  that  it  might  be  possible  to  take  ex- 
ceptions to  some  of  the  statements  as  to  matter  or  manner ;  but 
wc  believe,  with  a  contemporary  Review,  that  those  wlio  desire 
good  text  books  of  this  character  "  must  wait  a  long  time  before 


276  Uphanis  Mental  Philosophy.  [April, 

llicy  can  obtain  better   ones   tliaii  tliese   furnished  by  Professor 
Upliani."* 

■\Vc  propose  to  indicate  brielly  some  of  t!ic  leading  features  of 
these  volumes,  willi  the  liopc  of  sccm-ing  for  them  the  earnest  atten- 
tion of  tliose  wlio  arc  inlcrcstcd  in  the  training  of  mind,  or  the 
progress  of  mental  science. 

1.  The  first  fcalm-c  which  claims  our  notice  h,  iliat  these  volumes 
cmhrace  a  view  of  the  ivholc  mind.  'V\\c  first  vohime  is  devoted 
to  the  intellectual,  the  second  to  the  sentient,  or  sensitive,  and  the 
third  to  the  voluntary  ])o\vers.  And  in  this  three-fold  view  are 
embraced  all  the  mental  faculties  and  phenomena.  The  volumes 
are  familiarly  designated,  the  Intellect,  the  Sensibilities,  and  the 
Will.  Each  is,  by  itself,  a  distinct  treatise,  giving  us  a  view,  not 
only  of  the  normal,  or  healthful  action  of  the  department  of  which 
it  treats,  but  also  of  its  disordered  action.  Each  volume,  though 
complete  in  itself,  is  yet  ckarly  seen  to  be  one  of  the  parts  of  a 
more  perfect  whole  ;  all  the  parts  of  which  arc  filly  framed  to- 
gether, so  lliat  the  c.-scnlial  um'ly  of  tlie  mind  is  not  sacrificed  in 
the  analysis  of  its  several  parts. 

2.  Another  important  fi-aturc  is  the  nnlural  arrangement  and 
classification  of  the  mental  pnircrs  and  operations.  In  no  other 
works,  within  our  knowkxlL^c,  is  this  feature  so  fidly  manifest.  The 
order  in  which  the  several  dep;utmcnts,  and  the  phenomena  em- 
braced in  each,  arc  discussed,  l!ie  separating  of  things  distinct,  and 
yet  their  natural  relation  to  each  other,  afford  the  highest  satisfaction 
to  the  student  who  seeks  clear  ideas  of  lumself  and  his  subject 
The  list  of  contents  is,  of  itself,  a  map,  or  chart  of  the  mind,  and 
affords  important  aid  in  reviewing  the  discussions  which  the  several 
toj)ics  indicate. 

3.  The  skilful  use  of  terms.  There  are  no  startling  novelties 
cither  in  the  coining  of  new  terms,  or  the  using  of  old  ones  in  new 
or  strange  relations.  Tiiis  feature  of  the  work  is  important  in 
connection  with  the  one  last  named.  A  good  arrangement  and 
classification  might  lie  embarrassed  by  confusion  in  tlic  use  of 
terms;  and  the  care  manifested  in  avoiding  this,  by  Professor 
Upham,  is  worthy  of  sjiccial^ regard.  A  happy  illustration  of  this 
may  be  seen  in  his  remarks  on  the  use  of  the  term  suggestion,  in- 
stead of  reason,  in  treating  of  the  ideas  of  internal  ori"-in. 

•  North  American  Review,  July,  1840. 


1311.]  Vphanis  Mental  rhilosojtliij.  277 

"  In  giving  an  account  of  the  ideas  from  this  source,  we  have  \\rc- 
fcrrcd  ihf!  term  srocEs-riox,  proposed  and  employed  by  Rcid  and 
Stewart,  to  the  word  it kasox,  proposed  by  Kant,  and  adopted  by  Cousin, 
and  oilier  writers,  as,  on  the  whole,  more  conformable  to  the  prevalent 
U!i:im-s  of  the  English  language.  In  common  parlance,  and  by  the 
rstiililished  usage  of  language,  the  word  reason  is  expressive  of  the 
drdiirtive,  rather  than  the  suggestive  faculty  ;  and  if  we  annul  or  peri)lex 
the  ])resent  use  of  that  term  by  a  novel  application  of  it,  we  must  in- 
troduce a  new  word  to  express  the  process  of  deduction." — Vol.  i, 
HCC.  121. 

^^"c  shall  esteem  it  fortunate  for  the  progress  of  philosophy  in 
this  countrj',  if  others  sliall  coincide  willi  the  author  in  this  use  of 
terms.  The  sooner  the  transcendental  sense  of  the  term  reason  is 
abandoned  tlic  better. 

4.  Wc  notice  with  pleasure  the  deaxv ess  of  reasoning  and  rich- 
ness of  iUustration  which  secure  a  transparencij  of  style,  on  which 
tvc  set  a  high  value.  It  will  thus  enable  the  work- to  exert  a  wide 
influence,  as  great  numbers  will  pursue  the  science  with  pleasiuc 
and  profit,  wlio  would  not  inasler  a  more  difTicidt  style.  We  are 
aware  that  tin's  circumstance  will,  bj'  some,  bo  thought  to  detract 
from  the  merits  of  the  work,  as  tending  to  make  the  study  loo 
easy.  There  is  a  somewhat  prevalent  fashion  of  estimating  a 
metaphysical  writer  in  proportion  to  his  obscurity.  If  the  pool  is 
so  adroilly  filled  witli  muddy  ivater,  that  one  cannot  see  below  tlie 
surface,  or  distinguish  one  object  from  another,  it  is  considered 
profoundly  dec]) ;  but  if  through  its  transparent  waters  the  rich  ore 
and  the  bright  diamonds  glitter,  they  are  despised.  They  are 
considered  to  be  in  shoal  icatcr,  and  unworthy  of  notice,  because 
they  can  be  seen  by  common  eyes.  Tliis  love  of  mystery,  and 
reverence  for  llie  profundity  of  that  which  caitnot  be  understood,  is 
often  ludicrously  displayed  in  this  country.  But  it  seems  to  us  a 
very  liigii  compliment  which  Dugald  Stewart*  pays  to  the  genius 
of  J-'oiilcncUe  : — "  The  chief  and  distinguishing  merit  of  Fontenellc 
is  tlic  happy  facility  with  which  lie  adapts  the  most  abstruse  and 
refined  speculations  to  the  comprehension  of  ordinary  readers.  Nor 
is  this  excellence  purchased  by  any  sacrifice  of  scientific  precision." 

Tlii.5  is  high  praise,  and  we  believe  there  arc  but  few  writers  to 
Nvlioni  it  more  justly  belongs  than  to  Professor  Upham.  He  seems 
to  have  been  governed  by  the  principle  which  was  the  secret  of 

*  Hist.  Phil ,  dis.  i,  part  ii,  p.  148. 
Vol.  I.— 18 


278  Uphani's  Mental  Pldhsopliy .  [April, 

Fontcncllc's  success.  "  ^^^lcn  cmploj'cd  iii  composition,"  says 
roiitcncllc,  "  my  first  concern  is  to  be  certain  that  I  myself  under- 
stand what  I  am  about  to  write."*  It  must  be  obvious  that  the 
facts  and  phenomena  of  nn'nd  will  sufficiently  task  the  powers  of 
the  student,  even  if  the  text  books  which  introduce  him  to  the  stud}', 
and  which,  at  most,  can  do  little  more  than  leach  him  how  to  use 
his  mental  faculties  in  the  pursuit  of  truth,  are  written  in  a  style  of 
the  utmost  transparency. 

5.  Another  charming  feature  is  the  author's  kind  and  courteous 
treatment  of  oilier  authors.  IMany  of  the  evils  which  philosophical 
controversy  has  engendered  might  have  lieen  avoided  if  all  writers 
liad  been  equally  cautious.  It  may  be  questioned  whetlier  a  writer 
can  be  found  in  this  cotnitry  who  has  a  more  thorough  acquaintance 
with  the  earlier  ]M)alish  and  Scotch  metaphysicians,  and  with  the 
continental  writers  whose  works  are  accessible  in  this  country ; 
and  from  all  sources  he  has  gathered  materials  for  his  work,  and 
combined  and  used  them  with  singular  fairness  and  skill.  He  has 
not,  indeed,  attempted  a  liistory  of  philosophical  writers  or  opinions, 
and  the  design  of  his  work  did  not  render  it  necessary  to  encmnber 
his  pages  with  an  array  of  )iamcs  and  a  parade  of  learning,  but 
where\er  he  has  occasion  to  use,  or  to  call  in  question,  the  opinions 
of  others,  he  does  it  in  a  way  to  disarm  controversy,  and  leave  a 
kind  and  generous  fi-e!ing  in  the  heart  of  the  reader.  It  is  not 
easy  to  see  how  exceptions  can  be  made  to  the  treatment  of 
opinions,  either  of  friends  or  opponents,  whether  among  the  living 
or  the  dead  ;  nor  docs  it  appear  that  his  works  can  be  easily  made 
the  bone  of  contention  by  conflicting  parties,  either  in  philosophy 
or  religion. 

G.  It  is  also  worthy  of  notice  that,  where  lie  differs  from  other 
distinguished  writers,  or  where,  from  the  nature  of  the  subject, 
there  is  danger  of  misconception,  he  fortifies  his  opinions  by  a 
course  of  cojisrciitive  and  accumulative  evidence,  which,  while  it 
convinces  the  understanding,  leaves  the  mind  to  repose  more  de- 
lightfully in  liis  conclusions  from  the  kindness  of  spirit  already  re- 
ferred to.  Tlie  frequent  appeals  to  consciousness,  and  the  expe- 
rience and  common  sense  of  mankind,  furnish  an  important  part 
of  this  evidence  ;  the  amount  and  variety  of  which  we  do  not  re- 
member to  have  seen  exceeded  by  any  other  writer. 
*  Hist.  Phil,  dis.  i,  part  ii,  p.  148. 
18* 


1841.]  Upham's  Mental  Phihsoplty.  279 

7.  The  important  distinction  between  desire  and  volition  is 
clearly  cstahU^hed ;  and  in  a  way  to  make  tlic  distinction  imme- 
diately and  practically  useful.  This  distinction  is  not,  indeed,  new, 
as  other  writers  have  indicated  it ;  but  some  who  have  done  so 
have  still  \ised  the  words  interchangeably.  While  Locke  was 
careful  to  say  that  "  will  and  desire  must  not  be  confounded,"  yet  he 
seems  to  have  made  but  two  departments  of  mind,  the  understand- 
ing and  the  will.  To  one  of  these  departments,  then,  desire  must 
belong,  if  there  be  not  a  third ;  and  it  was  not  strange  that  those 
who  adopted  the  two-fold  division  of  mind  should  class  desire  with 
the  will,  rather  than  with  the  understanding.  Nor,  furthermore,  was 
it  strange  that  those  who  did  so,  should  often  use  the  word  incon- 
sistently with  their  own  classification.  The  evils  which  have  been 
occasioi\cd  by  confounding  desire  and  volition,  both  in  metaphysical 
and  theological  discussions,  are  such,  that  the  author  has  rendered 
a  very  important  service  by  placing  the  distinction  in  so  clear  a 
light.  The  discussion  of  this  subject,  which  occupies  about  twenty 
pages,  is  worthy  of  the  attentive  consideration  of  Christian  moralists. 
It  is  a  subject  v.-hich  enters  deeply  into  the  elements  of  human 
character  and  accountability. 

8.  TJte  existence  of  the  moral  sense,  or  conscience,  is  clearly 
demonstrated ;  and  the  fundamental  distinction  between  this  and 
the  reasoning  power  fully  established.  There  has  been  a  mistiness 
in  many  writers,  and  some  of  them  distinguished  writers,  in  relation 
to  the  moral  sense,  which  renders  this  part  of  Professor  Upliam's 
labors  a  very  important  service  to  the  cause  of  truth.  The  proofs 
of  a  moral  nature  exhibit  a  good  specimen  of  the  consecutive  and 
•  uniulativc  form  of  reasoning,  to  which  we  have  already  referred. 
We  sec  not  how  a  candid  thinker  can  examine  it  and  ever  doubt 
of  the  existence  of  conscience  as  one  of  the  elementary  principles  of 
our  nature,  or  lose  sight  of  the  responsibility  which  grows  out  of  it. 

9.  Nearly  connected  with  this  topic  is  that  of  the  immutahility 
r>f  moral  distinctions,  as  the  foundation  of  virtue  and  of  obligation. 
This  doctrine  has  been  contended  for  by  several  ethical  and  theo- 
logical writers,  but  in  no  other  work,  widi  which  we  ai-e  acquainted, 
is  it  presented  with  so  inuch  of  philosophical  accuracy,  and  sus- 
tained by  such  a  mass  of  evidence.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  this 
will  become  a  fundamental  doctrine  in  philosophy  in  opposition  to 
the  utilitarian  theory  of  Paley  and  kindred  writers. 


280  XJpliam's  Mental  Phihscrphj.  April, 

10.  The  support,  given  to  the.  freedom  of  the  ivill,  and  the  safe 
and  solid  foundation  laid  for  this  freedom,  in  the  sithjcctioft  of  the 
will  to  laiv,  is  another  interesting  feature,  A  recent  reviewer*  has 
intimated  that  we  need  no  metaphysics  of  thevnll;  but  the  tiiith  is, 
we  cajinot  avoid  lliat  inquiry  if  wc  would.  The  long  and  bitter 
controversies  connected  with  the  will  may  fill  us  with  weariness 
and  disgust,  and  may  have  a  tcndenc:y  to  turn  us  away  from  such 
discussions ;  but  while  the  will  is  a  constituent  clement  of  the 
human  soul,  we  ought  not  to  think  lightly  of  its  philosophy.  A 
system  of  mental  philosophy  must  be  defective  without  it.  The 
fault  of  most  treatises  on  the  will  is,  that  they  have  not  taken  a 
sufficiently  broad  and  comprehensive  view.  Writers  have  veiy 
often  taken  some  particular  or  exclusive  view  of  the  subject,  and 
have  puslied  opinions,  with  the  zeal  of  controversy,  to  an  extremity 
where  trath  itself,  iiy  being  distorted,  or  thnist  out  of  its  relations, 
becomes  error.  Tims  the  freedom  of  the  will,  on  the  one  hand, 
lias  been  pushed  to  that  point  which  would  emancipate  it  from  the 
contTol  of  reason,  or  conscience,  or  motives  of  any  sort ;  and  invest 
it  with  a  sort  of  omnipotence  which  annihilates  itself;  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  doctrine  of  necessity,  or  the  law  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  the  subjection  of  the  will  to  motives,  has  been  pushed  to 
the  destruction  of  the  essential  Ircedom  of  the  will.  By  cither 
process,  the  freedom  of  the  will  is,  in  fact,  destroyed.  This  residt 
is  eflectually  prevented  in  the  work  before  us.  Having  closed  the 
exainination  of  the  intellect  and  the  sensibilities,  and  considered 
tlie  relation  which  tlie  will  bears  to  these  other  departments  of  the 
mind,  the  author  proceeds  to  establish  these  three  propositions  : — 
The  will  has  its  l.vws — The  will  has  freedom — The  will 
HAS  rowER.  Each  of  these  propositions,  as  it  seems  to  us,  is  well 
sustained,  and  all  (jf  them  arc  essential  to  a  just!  view  of  eacli  one 
separately.  The  freedom  of  the  ^vill  is  seen  to  be  secured,  rather 
than  destroyed,  by  a  just  exhibition  of  the  laws  which  pertain  to  it. 
The  same  remark  applies  with  equal  force  to  the  power  of  the  will. 
It  cau  be  happily  exercised  only  in  hanuony  with  the  laws  of  the 
mind.  It  is  seen,  moreover,  that  each  department  of  the  mind  has 
an  important  influence  over  the  others,  and  that  the  highest  degree 
of  mental  freedom  can  he  seaircd  only  by  the  harmony  and  balance 
of  all  the  mental  faculties. 

•  New- York  rtcvicw,  July,  1810. 


18-11.]  U2^ha/n's  Mental  Philosophy.  281 

1 1 .  One  of  ll»c  most  practically  useful  characteristics  of  the  work 
is,  tJic  light  iljhcih  upon  the  business  of  education.  The  great 
U'ulli,  lliat  all  the  intellectual,  sentient,  and  voluntary  powers  are 
susceptible  of  cultivation,  is  clearly  brought  out ;  and  the  necessity 
of  lliis  cultivation  to  the  perfection  of  themind  is  strongly  impressed. 
Tiic  practical  hints  upon  the  culture  of  the  understanding,  the 
mcmor)-,  the  affections,  the  moral  sense,  and  the  will,  are  among 
llic  most  valuable  "  thoughts  on  education"  to  be  found  in  any  book 
extant. 

li;.  We  notice  last,  but  not  with  the  less  pleasure,  the  philo- 
sophical basis  laid  for  several  of  the  leading  truths  of  Christianity. 
No  effort  is  made  to  give  the  work  a  theological  cast,  or  to  carry 
out  its  principles  to  theological  conclusions.  These  subjects  arc 
left  in  just  that  form  which  we  might  expect  from  a  clear-headed 
philosopher,  who  should  study  with  prayerful  earnestness  the  Bible 
and  the  Imman  soul  in  connection  wAh  each  other,  till  the  adapta- 
tion of  the  one  to  the  other  is  clearly  seen,  and  the  influence  of  the 
study  of  both  is  distinctly  felt  in  his  own  heart.  But  the  attentive 
reader  cannot  fail  to  see  that  several  of  the  most  important  dis- 
closures of  the  Bible  are  identical  with  the  truths  discovered  in  the 
liunian  soul.  Let  us  notice,  for  example,  the  doctrine  of  human 
depravity  as  connected  with  the  fall  of  man. 

In  the  second  volume,  which  embraces  the  sensibilities,  the 
writer  treats,  first,  of  emotions,  and  then  of  desires,  or  desirous 
states  of  mind.  In  this  class  are  arranged  the  instincts,  appetites, 
jjropensitics,  and  affections,  in  the  same  order  as  here  enumerated, 
and  all  these  mental  states,  save  the  instincts,  he  supposes  may 
liavc  both  an  instinctive  and  a  voluntary  action.  The  ailections  he 
divides  into  two  classes,  the  malevolent,  and  the  benevolent  affec- 
tions. In  the  latter  class  are  enumerated  the  parental,  filial,  and  fra- 
ternal affections,  love  of  the  human  race,  love  of  country,  the  affection 
of  friendship,  of  sympathy,  and  of  gi'atitude. 

Having  traced  out,  and  illustrated  these  important  principles  of 
the  mind,  the  author  remarks, — 

"  In  order  to  preserve  the  other  principles  of  human  nature  in  ihc 
position  which  the  great  Author  of  that  nature  has  assigned  to  them, 
and  lo  render  their  action  just  in  itself,  and  liarmonioiis  in  its  relations, 
we  have  reason  to  believe  that  there  was  originally  in  the  liunian  con- 
slituiion  a  principle  of  love  to  the  Suprkme  Being." 


282  UphanCs  Mental  Philosophy.  [April, 

Tliis  affeclion  lie  supposes  to  liavc  been  analogous  in  its  nature 
and  operations  to  the  other  benevolent  affections,  having  like  thent 
both  an  instinctive  and  volnntarj'  action ;  but  differing  greatly  in 
degree  or  intensity  of  action,  being,  in  this  respect,  in  correspond- 
ence with  the  higli  and  lioly  nature  of  the  object  to  which  it  was 
rendered  with  all  the  energy  of  which  the  mind  was  capable.  That 
man  possessed  originally  such  a  principle,  he  supposes  must  be 
evident  from  analogy,  considering  the  relation  man  sustains  to  God, 
and  the  duties  which  grow  out  of  this  relation.  Further  proofs  of 
this  are  drawn  from  the  Scriptures  ;  from  those  passages  which 
describe  man  at  his  creation  ;  also  those  which  require  supreme 
love  to  God ;  and  those  which  contemplate  the  renovation  of  our 
natiure,  and  the  restoration  of  this  principle. 

The  relation  of  thi:^  affeclion  to  the  other  principles  of  our  nature 
is  then  traced  with  philosophical  precision,  and  the  natural  results, 
both  of  the  existence  and  of  the  absence  of  this  principle,  upon  all 
llie  other  affections,  and  upon  the  whole  character,  clearly  indicated. 

The  philo50])hical  basis  thus  laid  for  the  Scriptural  view  of  de- 
pravity is  worthy  of  careful  attention,  as  it  embraces  the  whole 
range  of  man's  original  slate,  the  effects  of  the  fall,  the  recover)'-  of 
the  soul  to  holiness,  and  the  divine  influence  concerned  in  this 
transformation.  The  dorlrinc  of  man's  dependence,  as  well  as  his 
freedom  and  accountability — his  perfect  obligations  to  serve  God — 
and  the  necessity  of  this  service  to  the  highest  elevation  and  per- 
fection of  our  nature — the  wTong  which  the  sinner,  by  transgression, 
inflicts  upon  his  own  soul — are  seen  in  a  clear  and  strong  light ; 
while  yet  all  these  truths  seem  the  natural  and  necessary  results  of 
purely  philosophical  inquir)',  no  less  than  the  attestations  of  divine 
revelation.  Tlie  whole  scope  and  spirit  of  this  philosophy,  in 
short,  is  eminently  Christian ;  and  the  service  it  may  render  to  all 
denominations  of  believers,  and  to  the  cause  of  Christian  education, 
is  a  reason  for  its  extensive  circ\ilation.  There  are  various  pros- 
pective bearings  of  correct  views,  and  of  the  general  study  of 
mental  philosophy,  which  wc  deem  of  great  importance ;  but 
wliich  our  limits  forbid  us  to  indicate  at  present. 


1941.]  Homilctics  and  Pulpii  Eloquence. 


Art.  VI. — 1.    Lcclurcs  on  Ilomiletics  and  Prcacliin^,  and  on. 

}'uhllc   I'rai/rr ;    together   ivith    Scr7nons    and    Letters.      By 

Eiu;.vl:zer  Pouter,  D.  D.,  President  of  the  Theological  Scnii- 

inr\',  Andovcr.     8vo.  Andover  and  New-York,  1834. 
2.  Lcclurcs  on  Eloquence  and  Style.     By  Ebenezer  Porter, 

D.  D.,  laic  President,  &c.     8vo.  Andover  and  New-York,  1S36. 

Many  and  various  have  been  the  attempts  to  define  eloquence ; 
but  widely  as  philologists  differ  in  their  definitions  of  the  word, 
true  eloquence  is  never  mistaken,  and  always  appreciated.  A 
counterfeit  may  deceive  for  a  season :  fustian  and  bombast  may 
be  imposed  for  a  while  on  a  part  of  the  comnuuiity ;  but  the 
genuine  coin  carries  with  it  intrinsic  evidence  of  its  value,  and  real 
eloquence  passes  current  everywhere  and  at  all  times. 

It  matters  not,  therefore,  whether,  with  Isocrales,  we  call  elo- 
quence the  power  of  persuading  ;  or,  with  Aristotle,  the  power  of 
inventing  tiiat  which  is  persuasive.  Whether,  with  Cicero,  we  say 
that  eloquence  is  speaking  in  a  persuasive  manner  ;  or,  with  Quinc- 
tillian,  that  it  is  the  science  of  speaking  well.     Nor  j'et,  to  come  | 

do\vn  to  modern  times,  is  it  of  much  consequence,  whether  we  take  « 

Dr.  Campbell's  definition,  and  say,  that  eloquence  is  the  art  whereby  | 

the  speech  is  adapted  to  produce  the  speaker's  end ;  or,  with  a  | 

recent  lecturer  on  the  subject,  who  has  acquired  some  reputation,  | 

insist  upon  it,  that  eloquence  is  simplj'  speaking  out,  because,  for-  | 

sootli,    it    is  derived   from   two   Latin   words   bearing  that  signi-  j 

fication.  | 

It  were  an  easy  task,  to  show  wherein  each  of  these  definitions 
is  defective  ;  but  not  so  easy  to  give  one  that  shall  not  be  liable  to 
ihc  same  or  similar  objections.  Specially  woidd  it  savor  of  pre- 
sumption to  attempt  this,  when  it  may  be  fairly  questioned  whether 
each  successive  definition  is  not  more  defective  than  its  predecessor. 

Nor  is  it  only  by  the  enlightened  and  the  educated  that  eloquence  5 

is  understood  and  its  claims  appreciated.     It  arrests  the  attention  ! 

of  the  ignorant,  and  even  the  untaught  children  of  the  wilderness  J 

confess  its  power.     It  is  potent,  nay,  omnipotent,  so  far  as  any  i 

thing  human  may  claim  that  attribute,  for  good,  or  for  evil.  Tlic 
pages  of  all  history,  sacred  and  profane,  are  full  of  its 
achievements. 

History,  moreover,  and  the  biography  of  eloquent  men,  tlirow  | 

i 


284  Homilctirs  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

mucli  light  on  the  question,  if  they  do  not  settle  it,  whetlicr  elo- 
quence is  an  acquired  art  or  a  niiturnl  gift ;  for  even  those  who 
hold  to  the  latter  of  these  opinions  must  admit,  that  patient  study 
and  persevering  toil  have  accomplished  much,  where  nature  had 
done  but  little.  Nor  will  it  be  denied,  that  although  an  individual 
may  have  a  natural  genius  for  eloquence,  as  some  have,  by  nature, 
a  taste  for  painting,  or  music ;  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other, 
perfection  is,  and  can  only  be,  the  result  of  well-directed  and  un- 
ceasing effort. 

It  would,  therefore,  seem  to  be  a  ready  inference  that  from 
Christians,  and  espccinlly  from  the  Christian  ministry,  the  elo- 
quence of  the  jjuljiit  should  receive  a  high  degree  of  attention,  and 
that  its  study,  and  every  thing  likely  to  promote  it,  should  be  sedu- 
lously fostered  and  encouraged.  This,  therefore,  is  our  present 
object :  not  so  much  formally  to  review  the  works  named  at  the 
head  of  this  article,  as  to  call  to  this  subject  the  attention  of  our 
younger  brethren  in  the  ministry  :  to  arouse  the  energies  of  Christ's 
ambassadors ;  and  to  urge  upon  those,  whom  the  great  Head  of 
the  church  has  called  to  this  responsible  duty,  the  absolute  neces- 
sity o{  ftinlying  to  show  ihenisclves  approved  unto  God,  workmen 
thai  need  not  to  be  ashamed. 

The  object  of  the  pulpit  orator,  whether  we  consider  his  autho- 
rity, his  message,  or  his  responsibility,  is  paramount  to  all  others. 
He  is  called  and  sent  forth  by  the  great  Governor  of  the  universe  : 
the  message  which  he  liears  is  iiis;  to  him  is  he  accountable  for 
the  manner  in  which  he  proclaims  it.  It  is  true,  that  no  man  is 
answerable  for  talents  with  which  he  has  not  been  endowed.  True, 
also,  that  the  minister  of  Christ  is  not  responsible  for  want  of  suc- 
cess in  his  efforts  to  win  souls.  But  it  is  equally  true,  that  the 
gixal  Head  of  the  churrli  will  hold  that  man  guilty  whose  talents 
have  not  been  improved  as  tliey  might  have  been  ;  and  whose  efforts 
liavc  not  been  proportioned  to  the  magnitude  and  ditliculty  of  the 
work  assigned  him.  It  will  admit  an  argument  too,  whether,  in 
most  cases,  the  incfficacy  of  tlie  gospel  be  not  owing  to  the  ineffi- 
ciency of  the  ])reachcr.  That  gospel,  an  inspired  apostle  declares 
to  be  the  power  of  God.  Skill  to  wield  that  power,  like  skill  in 
any  other  pinsuit,  is  to  be  obiained  only  by  study  and  perseverance.* 

•  "When  1  look  at  tlio  groat  men  of  Rome,  and  see  Cicero  at  tlie  head  of 
her  senate,  and  Cesar  at  llie  head  of  her  armies,  in  the  daily  habit  of  private 


1S41.]  TlomUctics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  285 

Tlicre  arc  indeed  many  persons,  and  some  too  of  unquestioned 
piety,  wlio,  allliougii  they  hang  with  breathless  silence  on  the  lips 
of  the  eloquent  preacher,  yet  scoff  at  tlie  very  idea  of  a  man's 
studi/ing  t()  become  eloquent :  it  is  associated  in  their  minds  with 
irreverence  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  .and  witli  the  justly  dreaded  conse- 
quences of  a  man-made  ministry.  It  would  be  well  for  the  young 
preacher,  before  allowing  opinions  of  this  natin-e  to  influence  his 
conduct,  to  gauge  the  intellectual  calibre  from  which  they  issue  ; 
for,  although  he  is  not  to  despise  one  of  Christ's  little  ones,  it  is 
nowhere  enjoined  on  him  to  be  governed  by  the  prejudice  of  the 
weak,  or  the  caprice  of  the  ignorant.  It  is  unwordiy  the  cliaracter 
of  a  Cliristian  minister  to  be  thus  influenced.  It  is  still  more  so 
for  him  to  appear  to  be  tlius  influenced  when  in  reality  he  is  not. 
This  superadds  the  guilt  of  hypocrisy  to  actual  degradation  ;  as  is 
sometimes  painfully  exliibited  by  his  conduct,  who,  feeling  tlic  ne- 
cessity of  having  before  liim,  in  the  pulpit,  a  brief  skeleton  of  his 

rt-arfinp:  and  spcakinj;  for  their  own  improvement,  1  should  be  inclined  to  pre- 
sume, even  independently  of  my  own  observation  on  the  subject,  that  skill  in 
elocution  is  not  likely  to  be  .attained  by  accident.  Cicero  said,  '  No  man  is  an 
orator  who  lias  not  learned  to  be  so.'  Among  our  students,  there  is  indeed, 
now  and  then,  a  man  who  knows  more  about  these  matters  than  Cicero ;  and 
who  confidently  maintains  that  it  is  enough  for  any  one  to  be  so  much  of  an  | 

orator  as  he  happens  to  be,  and  that  to  aim  at  any  thing  more,  is  the  certain  | 

way  to  spoil  himself  by  artificial  habits.    But  this  sort  of  man,  I  have  observed,  | 

when  1  come  to  hear  him  spealv,  conmronly  happens  to  be  no  very  perfect  | 

orator ;  yet  of  the  many  faults  which  he  happeru  to  have,  he  cannot  correct  s 

any  one,  because  he  lacks  both  patience  and  skill  to  learn  what  it  is,  or  by  | 

what  process  it  is   to  be  corrected.     Upon  the  whole,  I  have  become  fully  | 

satisfied,  as  the  result  of  experience,  that  no  man  becomes  possessed  of  an  in-  | 

(cresting  and  impressive  delivery,  except  as  the  result  of  pains  and  patience  in  1 

prcparal.iry  discipline."— J'or/cr'j  Let.  to  a  Prof,  in  Theo.  Sem.  | 

"So,  then,  you  will  make  an  orator  by  rule,  will  youl    Just  as  I  would  | 

make  any  other  man  by  rule,  where  genius  and  scnsibdity  need  to  be  guided  | 

by  elementary  principles,  and  disciplined  into  skill  by  the  gradual  transforma-  I 

tion  of  practice.     There  is  an  ancient  maxim,  '  Every  log  is  not  a  Jlercury,'  | 

which  applies  to  this  as  well  as  to  other  subjects.  And  he  who  can  tell  us 
that  eloquence  is  not  to  be  produced  by  art,  without  genius,  has  made  as  pro- 
found a  discovery  as  he  who  could  tell  us,  that  an  orator  is  not  a  chair  or  a 
table  ;  or  that  the  carpenter's  axe  cannot  hew  a  log  into  a  divinity.  But  when 
It  i'  adniiticd  concerning  any  one,  that  the  Creator  has  inadc  him  a  man,  the 
r,«c>.iiiin  icuiains,  how  far  docs  it  depend  on  this  man  to  make  himself  an 
onlorV'—Ibiil.,  Led.  on  Elocution. 


2S6  Ilomileiics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

sermon,  attempts  carefully  to  conceal  it  from  his  hearers.  If  it  is 
wrong  for  him  to  iiavc  his  notes  before  him,  how  dare  he  bring 
them  into  the  sacred  desk  ?  If  it  is  not  wrong,  as  evidently  it 
cannot  be,  wliy  sliould  he  soil  his  conscience  by  an  efTort  to  con- 
ceal them  ?  or  risk  his  reputation  by  being  detected  in  that  which 
he  wishes  to  conceal,  and  of  which,  by  natural  consequence,  his 
liearcrs  will  infer  that  he  is  ashamed  ? 

Of  those,  loo,  who  are  opposed  to  the  labor  and  study  that  are 
b}'  others  deemed  essential  to  the  formation  of  the  pulpit. orator, 
not  a  few  give  evidence  that  tlieir  opposition  is  rather  theoretical 
than  real.  They  have  no  objections  to  the  efforts  of  the  young 
minister,  so  far  as  they  arc  directed  to  the  attainment  of  a  know-  j 

ledge  of  English  grammar  :  they  would  have  lihn  speak  correctly ; 
they  would  be  sliockcd  if  liis  gestures  were  awkward,  and  liis 
manner  so  uncouth  as  to  be  repulsive  to  the  man  of  refinement, 
or  a  just  subject  of  ridicvde  to  the  young  and  the  gay.  And  for  a 
veiy  good  reason.  In  the  ordinarj^  course  of  Providence,  tlie  labors 
of  sucli  a  man.  could  not  be  beneficial  to  many,  who,  under  other 
circumstances,  might  be  induced  attentively  to  listen,  resolutely  to 
decide,  and,  eventually,  to  throw  into  the  right  scale,  the  weight  of 
sanctified  inlclligencc. 

But  tiicy  ask,  ^Vhat  has  hunran  learning  to  do  with  the  conver- 
sion of  the  sinner  ?  The  question  is  often  put,  and  in  a  tone  as  if 
tlie  only  answer  that  can  be  given  must  set  at  rest  for  ever,  not  only 
the  question  relative  to  theological  seminaries,  but  also,  that  rela- 
tive to  systematic  training  and  study  of  every  kind  for  the  service 
of  the  sanctuary. 

It  is  easy  to  ask  questions.  Might  we  be  pardoned  for  the  pre- 
sumption, we  could  ask  another,  which,  indeed,  is  not  another,  but 
the  same  in  a  dilTcrent  garb :  to  wit.  What  has  preaching  itself  to 
do  with  the  conversion  of  the  sinner  ?  It  is,  confessedly,  onl}'  a 
means  to  an  end — a  means,  wc  readily  admit,  devised  by  God  liim- 
sclf  to  effect  this  object.  But  still,  if  the  Almighty  were  so  dis- 
posed, it  might  be  dispensed  with,  and  the  work  of  conversion  be 
effected  in  some  other  way. 

Precisely  so  with  human  learning  ;  with  diligent  culture  and 
patient  mental  discipline.  They  arc  means  to  an  end  ;  and,  other 
things  being  equal,  tb.e  success  of  the  preacher  will  be  proportion- 
ate to  the  attention  given  to  these  matters.     Other  tilings,  we  say. 


ISIl.]  Homiletics  and  Pvlpit  Eloquence.  237 

bcinp;  equal ;  for  it  is  not  pretended  that  all  the  science  in  the  ', 

uorM,  alihoimli  its  possessor  spake  with  the  tongue  of  an  angel,  | 

can  lie  a  snlislitutc  for  genuine  piety.     Our  meaning  may  be  illus-  \ 

tralcd  by  svijiposing  the  case  of  two  ministers  of  Christ,  equal  in  j 

]iicly,  in  /cal  for  the  advancement  of  God's  glory,  and  in  natural  \ 

pifis.     In  the  one,  these  endowments  have  been  cultivated  with  | 

assiduity  ;  in  the  other,  to  a  great  extent,  neglected.     Is  it  not  self-  :• 

evident  that  the  former  will  be  a  more  successful,  and,  therefore,  ] 

a  more  useful  man  than  the  latter  ?  | 

\\'e  may  carry  the  illustration  still  further :  and  suppose  these  | 

men  to  be  equals  in  their  knowledge  of  divine  things,  and  of  the  I 

revi'aled  plan  of  salvation,  ds  well  as  in  zeal  and  personal  piety.  | 

The  only  difterence  shall  be,  that  the  one  has  acquired,  in  addition,  * 

the  graces  of  a  pleasing  and  winning  eloquence  ;  and  just  in  jjro-  | 

l^orlion  to  his  superiority  in  hringing  foi'tli  things  new  and  old,  | 

from  a  treasury  no  better  furnished  than  that  of  the  other,  ^vill  he  ? 

his  higher  relative  standing  in  the  church,  and  his  greater  influence  \ 

over  his  fellow  men.  | 

It  is  exceedingly  important  that  it  be  borne  in  mind  here,  that  in  | 

both  the   cases  supposed,  we  take  men  who  are  not  only  of  un-  j 

Questioned  piety,  but  who  have  been  actually  called  by  the  great  \ 

Head  of  the  cliurch  to  the  work  of  the  ministry.     Both  these,  piety  I 

and  a  call  from  Heaven,  the  latter  no  less  than  the  former,  are  | 

indispensable  ;  and  while  it  is  unquestionable,  that  none  but  those 
who  have  ])assed  from  death  imto  life  are  ever  called  of  God,  as 
was  Aaron  ;  it  is,  with  us,  equally  certain,  that  every  religious  man 
is  not  thus  called  ;  and  that  even  depth  of  piety  is  not  to  be  taken 
as  sullicicnt  evidence  of  such  call. 

It  is  on  this  point  that  our  church  has  taken  a  decisive  stand. 
She  is  jealous  of  the  ark  of  God;  and  imich  as  she  desires  to  see 
her  standard-bearers  thoroughly  furnished  for  their  great  work; 
educated,  and  fully  armed  for  the  contest  to  which  they  are  to  lead 
the  sacramental  host,  she  has,  hitherto,  firmly  refused  her  sanction 
lo  the  establishment  of  theological  seminaries  for  the  instruction  of 
men  who  may  be  called  to  this  ofHcc.  In  whatever  light  this  sub- 
ject appcai-s  to  our  brethren  of  sister  churches,  to  us  it  has  too 
much  the  appearance  of  usurping  the  prerogative  of  God :  of 
manufacturing  rather  than  educating  ministers.  It  seems  to  us  an 
exceedingly  easy  thing  to  persuade  men  who  have  been  educated 


288  Homihtics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.         ■        [April, 

theologically ;  who  jiavc  listened  to  the  lectures  of  the  professor ; 
who  have  passed  through  the  prescribed  course  ;  and  who  can 
write  sermons  secundum  artcm ;  an  exceedingly  easy  thing,  we 
say,  to  persuade  such  that  God  has  called  them,  and,  perhaps, 
iiothing  but  the  lighl  of  eternity  \rifl  disclose  their  error,  and  reveal 
in  its  full  extent  tlie  mischievous  consequences  of  that  error.* 

But  this  is  a  very  dilTerent  thing  from  educating  men  after  the 
church  has  received  satisfactory  evidence  that  they  are  called  to  the 
ministry ;  and  the  time  is  not  far  distant,  we  feel  warranted,  from 
the  signs  of  the  times,  to  jiredict,  when  suitable  provision  will  be 
made  for  this  object :  whether,  by  the  extension  of  our  literary 
institutions  already  in  existence,  or  by  the  establishment  of  theo- 
logical schools  for  this  special  purpose,  time  and  the  wisdom  of 
the  constituted  aulhorilies  of  the  cliurch  will  determine. 

In  the  mean  while,  let  not  oiu-  younger  brethren,  already  in  the 
field,  imagine,  that  because  the  warning  voice  of  their  fathers, 
venerable  alike  for  age  and  wisdom,  has  been  lifted  up  against  the 
unhallowed  attemjits  of  men  to  make  ministers,  and  against  the 
presumption  of  thrusting  unsanctihcd  leaniinginto  the  sacred  desk, 
lliat,  therefore,  the  church  does  not  need,  and  expect  the  develop- 
ment of  their  gifts,  as  well  as  graces,  to  the  greatest  possible  extent. 
Let  them  not  listen  to  the  sneers  of  the  ignorant  against  books  and 
against  study,  as  if  tlie  time  thus  spent  were  wasted.  They  will, 
doubtless,  meet  with  such  among  the  people  ;  perhaps  even  among 
the  ministry.  A  jibe  of  this  kind,  from  his  colleague  and  senior  in 
office,  paralyzed  fur  a  while  the  efforts  of  Adam  Clarke,  as  he  tells 
us  in  his  biogra])hy.t     It  came  near  quenching  for  ever  that  taper 

*  "  Qui  cupit  jnxla  ?anlum  esse  SiMktikoc  det  oporam  ut  prius  siL 
Ofo(licla/v-(KOf,  i.  c,  DivinilUo  cdoclu.s." — Erasmus. 

"  None  but  lie  who  inaJe  llie  world  can  make  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  If 
a  youiirr  man  has  eapaf  ity,  culture  aud  application  may  make  him  a  scholar,  a 
philosopher,  or  an  orator;  hut  a  true  minister  must  have  certain  principles, 
motives,  feelings,  and  aims,  which  no  industry,  or  endeavors  of  men  can  cither 
acquire  or  communicate.  Tliey  must  be  given  from  above,  or  they  cannot  be 
received." — Ncivlon. 

f  Wc  quote  this  little  incident  from  the  Life  of  this  eminent,  self-taught 
scholar,  (12mo.  cd.,  vol,  i,  p.  103:)  '"In  the  preachers'  room  at  Matcomb, 
near  Shaftsbury,  observing  a  Latin  sentence  nn  the  wall,  in  pencil,  relative  to 
the  vicissitudes  of  life,  he  wrote  under  it  the  following  lines  from  Virgil,  corro- 
borative of  the  sentiment : — 


1 S 11 .]  Hnmilcti'cs  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  2S9 

li^hl  wliicli  nftcrwanl  hlazed  like  a  siui  in  tlie  moral  fivmamcnt,  and 
shod  its  radiance  over  both  hemispheres. 

The  man  was  an  ignoramus :  one  of  that  class,  unfortunately, 
not  )-c\  extinct,  \vlio  are  alwa3's  self-sufficient  and  perfectlj'  self- 
saiislk-d.  From  such,  the  young  preacher  will  receive,  as  in  the 
onsi;  before  us,  warnings  against  spiritual  pride,  and  against  devo- 
liiig  his  time  to  literary  attainments.  He  will  hear  the  truism  fronr 
tlic  ])iscipline  of  the  clmrch  quoted  : — Gaining  knowledge  is  a  good 
tiling,  but  saving  soids  a  better :  ho  will  be  reminded,  possibly,  of 
the  remark  of  Paul  to  the  Corinthians  : — Knowledge  puffeth  up, 
but  charity  cdificlh.  These  may  be  urged  in  such  a  way  as  to 
give  countenance  to  the  idea,  that  the  Discipline,  and  the  most 
learned  of  the  apostles,  intended  that  ministers  of  Christ,  the  teach- 
ers of  the  church,  should  keep  themselves  ignorant,  in  order  tliat 
they  may  edify  others,  and  be  successful  in  their  office. 

Perhaps  it  needs  not,  however,  that  we  do  more  than  merely 
hint  at  these  things.  Certainly  we  shall  not  undertake  fo  defend 
Paul,  or  the  excellent  Discipline  of  our  church,  from  a  charge 
of  pleading  in  behalf  of  ignorance.  On  his  colleague,  and  that 
colleague  equally  with  himself  under  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Gliost,  the  great  apostle  enjoined  the  necessity  of  his  giving  attend- 
ance to  reading  ;  and  the  Discipline,  in  language  that  appears  to  us 
something  more  than  advisory-,  directs  those  who  have  no  taste  for 
reading,  and  cannot,  or  will  not,  contract  a  taste  for  it,  to  return  to 
their  former  employment.  The  church  here  seems  to  have  taken 
thi'  high  ground,  and  we  have  no  doubt  of  its  being  coiTcct  and 
Scriptural,  that  men,  who  will  not  .study  to  improve  themselves, 
give  evidence  thereby  that  God  has  not  called  them  to  the  ministry. 

'  Quo  fata  trahunt  ■retraJntntgue,  sequamur. — 
Per  varios  casus,  per  tot  discrimina  rerum, 
Taidimus  in  Caelum.''— Eneid,  lib.  v,  709  ;  lb.,  lib.  i,  204,  205. 
The  next  preacher  ilmt  followed  him  in  this  place,  seeing  the  above  lines, 
vtiii-h  ho  could  not  understand,  nor  sec  the  relation  they  bore  to  those  pre- 
viously written,  wrote  under  them  the  following  words  : — 
'  Did  you  write  the  above 
to  show  us  you  conld  WTite  Latin  1 
For  shame  !    Do  send  pride 
to  hell,  from  whence  it  came. 
O,  young  man,  improve  your  * 

time,  e'<'rnity  'e  at  hand.' " 


290  Homilelics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

Else  why  docs  she  say,  The  church  can  do  witlioul  you  ;  go  home 
to  your  shops  or  your  farms  ?" 

Wc  have  ahxady  hinlcd  at  the  importance,  when  estimating 
advice,  of  considering  tlic  source  wlience  it  comes.  No  one  would 
think  of  listening  to  the  counsel  of  a  wicked  man  on  the  subject  of 
personal  piety.  No  one  ought  to  liced  the  opinions  of  a  willingly 
ignorant  person  on  the  suhjecl  of  education. 

That  learning  fosters  pride,  is  a  mischievous  and  a  wicked  dogma. 
It  is  directly  opposite  to  Inilh.  It  owes  its  origin,  and  its  preva- 
lence, where  it  docs  yet  prevail,  to  the  pedantic  airs  and  conse- 
quential bearing  of  smattcrers  and  pretenders.  Impostors  and 
empirics  are  found  in  evcrj'  profession,  and  the  quack  theological, 
with  its  various  var-ietics,  is  a  genus,  of  which  specimens  may 
yet  be  fomid.  Such  maj'  deceive  for  a  while,  by  the  appearance 
of  profound  erudition,  and  some,  who  look  only  at  the  surface, 
are  led  to  attribute  their  overweening  arrogance  and  conceit,  their 
puppyism,  we  had  almost  said,  to  that  learning  wliich  they  do  not 
possess,  and  to  that  education  which  they  never  had.  But  the 
veil  is  very  thin.  !Mcn  of  sense  sec  tluough  it.  Even  the  unlettered 
multitude  arc  beginning  to  attribute  ignorance  where  conceit  ap- 
pears, and  to  consider  modesty,  as  it  really  is,  the  infallible  test  of 
the  enlightened  and  well-informed. 

"  I  am  not  comjjctcnl,"  said  a  certain  honest-hearted  class-leader, 
"to  form  an  opinion  of  the  Hebrew  quotations  with  which  Mr. 

interlards  his  sermons  ;  but  I  should  like  him  better  if  he 

talked  less  about  himself,  and  spoke  a  little  better  grammar."  It 
was  a  bitter  sarcasm  ;  its  bitterness  arose  from  its  justness. 

Indeed,  we  arc  not  sure  that  it  would  be  going  too  far  to  say, 
not  only  that  the  tnily  learned  man  is  always  modest,  but  that  his 
modesty  will  be  in  direct  proportion  to  his  attainments.  Tlie  fur- 
tlicr  lie  advances,  the  larger  appears  the  still  undiscovered  field 
before  him,  just  as  the  extent  of  surrounding  darkness  is  increased 
by  tlic  magnitude  and  brilliancy  of  the  light  that  is  held  up  in  the 
midst  of  it.  Wliilc  the  pretender  is  using  every  art  to  push  him- 
self into  notice,  and  signally  failing  in  every  such  attempt,  the  truly 
learned  man  seeks  not  to  display,  either  himself  or  his  attainments. 
Circumstances  may  for  a  season  keep  him  in  the  shade  ;  but  he 
pursues  his  onward  course,  assured  that  his  industry  will  be  appro 
*  Sec  Discipline,  chap.  1,  sec.  xvii. 


1311.]  Jlomihtics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence,  291 

ciateJ,  and  lliat  ihe  moral  power  he  is  acquiring  by  diligent  mental 
culture  ivill  be  called  forth  and  loill  be  felt* 

'Die  argument  against  a  learned  ministry,  that  is  drawn  from 
the  conduct  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  in  the  selection  of  his  first  disciples, 
is  specious,  and  deserves  a  passing  notice.  It  is  an  linquestionablc 
fad,  that  the  Saviour  overlooked  the  educated  doctors  and  learned 

scribes  of  the  day,  and  made  choice  of  men  whose  names  were  j 

iniknown  in  the  circles  of  philosophy.     In  this,  not  less  tlian  in  | 

oilier  instances,  he  evinced  his  wisdom.     The  twelve  had  not,  as  I 

the  prominent  men  of  the  various   sects  and  schools  would  have  i 

Iiad,  to  unlearn  and  to  forget  the  gi-eat  mass  of  solemn  fooleries  and  I 

frivolous  concehs  which  constituted  their  science,  falsely  so  called.  | 

This,  difficult  as  tire  task  would  have  been,  must  have  been  done  I 

as  a  pre])arativc  to  the  reception  of  his  divine  instructions  ;  and  is  | 

suflicient  lo  account  for  his  conduct,  had  he  been  merely  a  philoso-  j 

piier  seeking  to  establish  a  new  sect.  | 

*  The  .iniicxed  extract,  nlthough  from  a  work  that  from  its  inaiiilVsl  sectarian  i 

spirit  atiil  jialpable  injustice  to  John  Wesley,  \rill  never  be  a  favorite  among  I 

Ills  followers,  yet  we  quote  as  subservient  to  our  main  design,  and  as  illus-  > 

trativc  of  the  absurdity  of  the  opinion  that  art  and  study  are  destructive  of  sim-  | 

plicity  and  gracefalness  in  a  public  speaker  : —  ^ 

"  Such  was  the  manner  of  the  preacher,  whose  spirit  has  spoken  for  itself  ^ 

throughout  all  this  volume  :  and  I  now  ask,  Was  that  spirit  ever  triimmeled,  j 

cooled,  or  carnalized,  by  Whitefield's  attention  to  the  graces  of  pulpit  elo-  | 

qnence  t    Did  the  study  of  oratory  estrange  him  from  his  closet  1  or  lessen  his  i 

dependence  on  the  Holy  Spirit  1  or  divert  him  from  living  habitually  in  the  j 

light  of  eternity  and  the  divine  presence  ?    No  man  ever  lived  nearer  to  God,  | 

or  approached  nearer  to  the  perfection  of  oratory.     He  was  too  devotional  to  | 

be  cooled  by  rules,  and  loo  natural  lo  be  spoiled  by  art,  and  too  much  in  car-  J 

ne.st  to  win  souls  to  neglect  system.     He  '  sought  out  acceptable'  tones,  and  | 

prsiurcs,  and  looks,  as  well  as  'acceptable  words.'     Was  Whitcfield  right?  | 

Then,  how  many,  like  myself,  are  far  wrong  1     Let  the  rising  ministry  take  | 

warning!    Awkwardness  in  the  pulpit  is  a  sin  ;  monotony,  a  sin;  dulness,  a  | 

hin;  and  all  of  them  sins  against  the  welfare  of  imraort.-iI  souls.     These,  be  it  j 

over  remembered,  invent  too  many  excuses  already  for  evading  the  claims  of  i 

the  gospel  :  do  not,  therefore,  place  yourself,  stl'dent,  .among  their  reasons  3 
fur  rejecting  it.  It  is  as  easy  to  be  graceful  in  gesture,  and  natural  in  lone,  as 
lo  be  gTiimmatical.  You  would  not  dare  lo  violate  grammar  :  dare  not  to  bo 
vult;ar  or  vapid  in  manner.  Your  spirituality  of  mind  is  loo  low,  and  your 
communion  with  God  loo  slight,  and  your  love  of  truth  too  cold,  if  thoy  can  bo 
( ridiiiiuored  by  cultivating  an  eloquence  worthy  of  the  pulpit." — J-'fc  and  Tim'S 
ofOi.rgv  Whitcfuld,  by  Robert  Philip,  pp.  5-28,  629. 


292  Homihtics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

But  he  liad  a  liighcr  object.  It  was  to  leave  bcliind  him  con- 
clusive evidence  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  teacher  come  from  God  : 
that,  in  his  own  language,  he  was  "  one  willi  the  Father,"  the  gieat 
fountain  of  all  light  and  wisdom.  Hence  it  came  to  pass,  as, 
doubtless,  foreseen  and  intended  by  himself,  that  after  his  ascen- 
sion, when  his  disciples  proclaimed  boldly  the  doctrines  he  had 
taught  them,  and  preached  the  truths  he  had  revealed,  the  multitude 
"  took  knowledge  of  them  that  they  had  been  with  Jesus."  Listen- 
ing to  their  teaching,  so  infinitely  superior  in  style  and  matter  to  any 
that  they  have  ever  before  heard ;  to  the  majestic  conceptions  of 
the  Dcily,  and  the  overwhelming  ideas  of  the  eternal  world  which 
they  unfolded,  little  was  needed  to  impress  upon  the  multitude  the 
fact  that  none  but  a  divine  teacher  could  thus  have  instructed  such 
)nen.  Beholding  the  light  slied  upon  the  moral  darkness  of  the 
world,  bj'  the  "  unlearned"  disciples,  many,  from  that  fact  alone, 
were  doubtless  induced  to  look  up  themselves  to  the  Sun  of 
righteousness,  from  whom  that  light  had  been  so  clcarty  and  so 
wonderfully  reflected. 

But  the  disciples  were  vcr}-  far  from  being  in  reality  either  im- 
Icarned  or  ignorant.  For  the  great  object  to  which  they  were  set 
apart,  they  were  belter  educated  than  any  men  have  been  since  the 
apostolic  age  :  better  than  any  may  ever  hope  to  be.  They  were 
tliree  years  in  the  theological  school  of  Christ :  receiving,  daily, 
instruction  both  theoretical  and  practical  from  the  great  Teacher 
himself:  from  him  who  "spake  as  never  man  spake."  A  very 
small  portion  of  his  lectures  on  the  peculiar  duties  of  his  ambas- 
sadors has  come  down  to  us ;  tnit  from  the  portion  with  which  it 
lias  pleased  the  Holy  Spirit  to  favor  us,  as  well  as  from  other  con- 
siderations, it  is  evident,  ihat  Ciirist's  scholars  must  have  been  well 
and  thoroughly  instructed. 

In  addition  to  these  qualificalions,  moreover,  lest  by  any  means 
ihcy  might  forget  what  they  had  once  learned,  as  they  were  men 
of  like  frailt)'-  with  ourselves,  he  left  them  the  assurance,  that  after 
his  departure,  the  Holy  Ghost  shoidd  not  only  be  sent  from  the 
Father  in  his  name,  but,  said  he,  "  He  shall  bring  all  things  to  your 
remembrance  whatsoever  I  have  said  unto  you."  The  unqualified 
language  of  this  promise  discountenances  the  idea  that  it  had  re- 
ference, merely,  to  the  insjiiralion  necessary  to  enable  them  to  hand 
down  to  posterity  a  correct  and  faithful  history  of  his  life  and  suf- 


isjl.]  Ilomilciics  ciml  Pulpil  Eluqucnce..  293 

fcrings.     Il  imjilicd,  also,  that  at  all  limes  they  should  have  a  per-  | 

Iccl  it'collccliou  of  the  instructions  he  had  given  them  relative  to  | 

ilir  iniihs  he  taiiaht,  and  to  the  maimer  in  which  he  would  have  | 

,h-,n  teach.         ""  \ 

'J'he  lucniorablc  events  of  the  day  of  peiitccost,  familiar  as  they  | 

ari!  to  every  reader,  must  also  be  adverted  to  when  considering  the  | 

([u.dilications  of  the  apostles.    The  gift  of  tongues,  which  they  then  \ 

received,  and  by  which  they  were  cnaliled,  not  only  to  understand  i 

fofcii^'ii  languages,  but  to  converse  intelligibly  v\  ith  men  "  of  every  \ 

nation  under   heaven,"    filled    the    minds    of  the    vast   multitude  | 

that  ]»ad  assembled  with  astonishment  and  aw'e.     It  would  be  an  | 

exceedingly  difficult  task  to  frame  an  argument  against  the  necessitj'-  | 

of  high  ministerial  acquirements  from  tlic  promise  of  Christ  to  his  \ 

first  disciples ;  or  from  the  remarkable  fulfilment  of  that  promise  I 

to  which  we  have  just  alluded.  | 

On  the  contrary,  their  whole  history  may  be  urged  with  great  I 

force  as  an  unanswerable  argument  for  diligent  study  on  the  pari  | 

of  successors  of  tlie  apostles  after  they  have  been  called  to  that 
facrcd  ofiice  ;  and  there  is  something  more  than  a  fancied  resem- 
blance between  the  disciples  of  Christ,  and  those  to  whom  we  more 
particularly  address  ourselves  in  the  present  article. 

Like  ihem,  the  younger  years  of  the  great  majority  of  those  now 
in  our  itinerant  ranks  were  spent  in  daily  toil  and  honest  industiy- 
Like  tlicm,  many  left  their  all,  at  the  summons  of  the  Master's 
voice.  With  constitutions  unimpaued  bj'  the  confinement  of  college 
v.alls,  or  undue  devotion  to  the  midnight  oil  in  their  j^outhful  days, 
ilicy  are  strong  to  labor,  and  to  endure  fatigue,  mental  as  well  as 
bodily.  The  licallh  and  vigor  thus  acquired,  and  the  practical 
Knowledge  of  human  natm-e,  the  knowledge  of  men  rather  than  of 
things,  oljlaincd  in  their  several  vocations,  have  laid  abroad  founda- 
tion, on  whicli  may  be  erected  a  glorious  superstructure  of  really 
nsefiil  knowledge. 

These  are  considerations  by  no  means  to  be  overlooked  or  under- 
valued. Even  in  the  limited  circle  of  our  own  acquaintance,  we 
could  point  to  some,  who,  although  well  versed  in  the  literature  of 
(■•roccc  and  Rome,  and  competent  to  read,  and  comment  upon  the 
f  acred  canon  in  the  original  Hebrew  ;  are  yet  as  ignorant  as  little 
<  InMren  of  liuinan  nature,  of  man  as  he  really  is.  They  live  in  an 
iJc;J  world :  ihcy  know  a  great  deal,  but  the  world  is  little  the 

Vol.  I.— 19 


294  Homiletics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

bolter  for  it.  So,  loo,  many  a  learned  divine  looks  back,  with  un- 
availing regret,  upon  the  fatal  errors  into  which  he  was  led  by 
3'oulhful  emulation  :  his  intellect  is  \vell  furnished  ;  but  his  physical 
powers  are  enfeebled  :  his  mind  is  sound,  but  his  constitution  is 
broken.  Gladly,  were  it  possible,  would  he  to-day  exchange  all 
his  liard-earned  knowledge  for  the  elastic  step  and  buoyant  spirits 
of  lu'm  who  last  year  left  his  plough-share  in  the  furrow,  or  his 
net  upon  the  beach,  that  he  might  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his 
Master,  and  seek  ihc  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel.* 

And  why  would  he  do  ihis  ?  Because  he  has  learned  to  look 
upon  his  scientific  atlainmcnts  as  of  little  value?  Because  he 
would  be  content  to  be  ignorant  if  he  might  have  health  ?  No,  in- 
deed :  having  tasted  the  sweets  of  knowledge,  and  reveled  in  the 
enjoyments  of  lilcratiu-e,  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  choose  ignorance 
for  its  own  sake.  lie  would  have  health,  and  the  restoration  of 
his  corporeal  faculties,  that  he  might  begin  anew  to  feed  the  flame  ; 
that,  from  the  sad  lessons  experience  has  taught  him,  he  juight 
pour  in  the  oil,  in  such  a  manner  as  not  again  to  endanger  the  safety 
of  the  vessel.  In  a  word,  that  he  might  occupy  precisely  that 
position  in  which  the  majority  of  the  junior  ministers  of  our  church 
are  now  placed;  and,  with  a  sound  body,  and  vigorous  constitution, 
follow  out  that  course  of  patient  and  persevering  study,  while  en- 
gaged in  the  active  labors  of  the  ministry,  which  we  are  aiming  to 
enforce  upon  their  attention. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  ihat  we  are  ignorant  of  the  obstacles  to 
be  encountered  by  the  J'oung  Methodist  preacher  ;  or  of  the  diftl- 
cullies  in  his  way  to  the  attainment  of  suitable  qualifications  for  his 

*  Dr.  Porter  in  one  of  hi.t  IccUircs  has  the  following  remarks,  in  a  note  re- 
lative tu  his  own  cviicricncc  : — "  I  entered  college  at  the  age  of  fifteen.  Those 
active  habits,  wl-.ich  had  iirevinnsly  sustained  my  health,  were  gradually 
diminished,  during  two  and  a  half  years  of  severe  study,  often  contmucd  to  a 
late  hour  at  niglit.  Without  one  admonition  or  apprehension  of  my  danger, 
my  strength  imperceptibly  declined,  till  a  single  cold  threatened  to  destroy  my 
lungs."  "  By  resorting  again  to  the  saddle,  to  mechanical  labor  at  the  work 
bench,  to  wood  sawing,  to  gardening,  and,  at  last,  to  holding  the  plough,  (instar 
omnium  in  my  case,)  sufficient  strength  was  gained  to  go  on  with  my  ministry  ; 
but  it  was  only  the  strength  of  an  invalid.  Now  it  was  my  calamity  to  have 
inherited  a  constitution  predisposed  to  catarrh  and  dyspcpsy ;  but  it  was  my 
fatdt  (and  a  grievous  one)  that  I  invited  disease,  by  indulging  love  of  study, 
without  a  more  settled  plan  of  daily  Mcrcise." 
19» 


1811.]  HomUetics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  295 

great  work.  On  the  contraiy,  because  we  do  know  these  tilings, 
wc  thus  write ;  and  it  is  possible,  that  in  noticing  a  few  of  these 
hinderancos,  wc  shall  hint  al  some,  that  have  not  occurred,  even  to 
llic  mind  of  tlie  itinerant  student  himself. 

The  most  common,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  absurd  rea- 
son llial  is  ofiered  for  neglecting  study,  is  a  want  of  opporlunily. 
Circuits  are  sometunes  large,  appointments  to  preach  are  nmnerous, 
and  a  great  deal  of  pastoral  visitmg  is  necessary.  These  things 
certainly  must  be  attended  to,  but  wc  have  never  yet  met  with  an 
instance,  where  these  duties  were  so  engrossing  as  to  deprive  a 
man  of  as  much  time  as  he  ought  to  devote  to  study.  It  is,  more- 
over, an  observation,  founded  on  experience,  that,  as  a  general 
thing,  the  most  studious  and  persevering  ministers  are  those  who, 
while  doing  this,  have  not  left  the  other  undone  :  giving  abundant 
evidence  that  there  is  nothing  incompatible  in  the  union  of  the  cha- 
racters of  the  faithful  pastor  and  the  diligent  student.  Indeed,  it 
is  lamentable  to  think,  for  how  many  wasted  hours  even  ministers 
of  Christ  are  accountable ;  in  how  many  instances  He  who  sees 
the  heart  knows  that  the  pica  of  want  of  time  is,  in  truth,  nothing 
but  want  of  inclination.  .  Take  the  man  Avho  has  so  often  quieted 
liis  conscience  by  this  excuse,  that  he  now  believes  it  himself; 
place  him  where  he  shall  be  free  from  every  other  care,  and  exempt 
from  every  other  duty ;  set  him  down  in  a  comfortable  study,  and 
surround  him  wth  a  spacious  libraiy  of  the  best  books  on  every 
subject;  let  him  have  an  easy  rocking  chair  withal ;  and  the  gicat 
probability  is,  ihnl  he  will  do  every  thing  else  but  study ;  and  that 
lie  will  cunie  forth,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  quite  as  great  a  novice 
as  when  he  entered.  By  diligent  redemption  of  time,  and  unwearied 
husbandry  of  opportunity,  there  is  no  circuit,  the  duties  of  which 
are  so  incessant,  as  not  to  leave,  at  the  absolute  disposal  of  the 
preacher,  as  much  time  in  the  coiurse  of  a  year  as  is  generally 
spent  in  study  by  the  students  during  the  same  period  at  a  college 
or  theological  seminary.  It  is  true,  he  may  not  have  this  time  in 
an  unbroken  scries,  or  always  at  the  most  convenient  seasons  ;  but 
let  any  one  make  the  calculation,  on  the  supposition  that  he  was 
detonnined  to  acquire  useful  knowledge,  of  how  many  hours 
he  mii^lit  save  from  sleep  ;  and  how  many  he  might  gain  by 
punctu-ility ;  and  hov,-  many  might  be  redeemed  by  abstain- 
ing from  ever)'  frivolous  and  unnecessarj'  pursuit,  and  his  own 


296  Homi'letics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

arilliinclic  will  startle  liiin,  and  bear-  us  out  fully  in  the  above 
position. 

Of  very  little  move  weight  is  the  plea,  sometimes  urged,  of  ina- 
bility to  obtain  the  necessary  books.  The  amount  of  money  actually 
received  by  Methodist  preachers  is,  indeed,  in  many  places,  piti- 
fully small ;  but,  by  the  admirable  economy  of  our  chm-ch,  just  in 
proportion  to  his  fidelity  to  tlic  duty  enjoined  upon  him  of  circulating 
the  publications  of  our  own  press,  will  be,  if  he  is  so  disposed,  the 
enlargement  of  his  own  library.  The  possession,  merely,  of  a 
great  ninny  books,  is  not  an  object  of  so  much  importance  as  is  by 
some  imagined.  A  man  nray  own  a  great  many  volumes,  while 
of  the  conleiils  of  a  si)igle  one  he  is  not  thoroughly  master.* 

The  selection  of  works  suitable  for  the  study  of  a  young  minister 
is  a  matter  of  great  importance.  It  depends  so  much  on  his  pre- 
vious habits  and  attainments,  that  it  is  impossible  to  prepare  a  cata- 
logue that  would  )iot,  on  the  one  hand,  contain  works  beyond  the 
present  ability  of  some  to  read  willi  profit ;  or,  on  the  other,  omit 
volumes  that  would  lie  of  essential  service  to  tliose  further  advanced. 
The  theological  student  must,  in  a  great  degree,  be  governed  in 
this  matter  by  liis  own  good  sense  :  aided,  as  he  may  generally  be, 
by  the  advice  of  judicious  friends. 

A  few  remarks  on  tliis  topic,  such  as  will  commend  themselves 
to  the  reader's  own  judgment,  arc  all  that  may  be  ventured  in  the 
present  article. 

And,  first,  it  will  be  seen  at  once,  that  no  man  is  worthy  the 
name  of  a  Methodist  preacher  who  is  not  thoroughly  versed,  not 
only  in  the  system  of  revealed  tnitli  as  held  by  the  generality  of 
evangelical  denominations,  but  especially  with  those  peculiarities 
by  which  the  church  of  his  choice  is  distinguished.  There  is  no 
scarcity  of  standard  works,  frotn  elementary  treatises  up  to  logical 
and  profound  dissertations  on  these  subjects.  There  is  no  good 
reason  wliy  any  Methodist  preacher  should  be  without  them  ;  and 

*  Observing  a  handsome  copy  of  Watson's  Institutes  in  possession  of  a 
young  minister  who  was  lainentiiirr  his  want  of  a  suitable  library,  we  ventured 
lo  ask  him  if  ho  had  road  that  work  !  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  yes ;  I  have  looked 
it  over."  Think  of  a  Methodist  minister  satisfied  with  having  looked  over 
such  a  work  as  Watson's  Institutes !  Of  what  u.=;g  would  a  library  be  to  him? 
An  occasional  loimging  visit  to  a  large  book-store,  where  in  a  little  while  he 
might  look  over  thousands  of  volumes,  ^vould  be  quite  as  beneficial,  and  much 
xnoie  economical. 


IS  11.]  Ilomilc/ics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  297 

;;b?riluiely  no  excuse  for  his  being  ignorant  of  llicii-  contents.  Tlicrc 
would  ho  ccrl.'iinlj'  a  great  advantage  to  the  young  niinislcr,  as  well 
as  a  .s.iving  of  lime,  if  there  were  among  us  a  school  for  the  ])ro- 
]>]u>;^,  ^\licre  ho  might  hear  these  things  from  the  lips  of  ihc  living 
K'clurer,  and  receive  that  direction  and  counsel  relative  to  his  llico- 
loyical  and  literary  studies  ^\'llich  his  peculiar  circitmstanccs  re(]>urc. 
The  chiuTh  v.-ill  see  this,  and  act :  our  successors  will  reap  the  bene- 
fil ;  and,  in  the  mean  time,  the  minisliy  of  the  present  age  must  aim, 
by  ihcir  own  efforts,  to  supply  the  deficiency,  each  for  himself. 

.i\nothcr  indispensable  qualification  is,  a  knowledge  of  the  lan- 
gnnge  in  which  he  is  to  preach ;  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the 
strength,  beauty,  and  peculiar  idioms  of  the  Englisli  tongue.  It  is 
perfectly  preposterous  for  any  man  to  waste  his  money  and  iiis 
time  in  pm-chasing,  and  poring  over  grammars  and  lexicons  of 
foreign  languages,  imtil  he  has  acquired  sufficient  knowledge  of 
liis  ow)i  to  speak  and  write  it  with  purity  and  precision.  Then  he 
7Ti:iy  soar  away  into  the  classic  regions  of  the  ancients ;  Ihcn  let 
him  slake  his  thirst  at  the  fountain  head  of  the  living  oracles.  But 
not  till  then.  For  while  it  is  indisputable  that  his  mind  may  be 
replenished  and  expanded  by  an  acquaintance  with  the  writings  of 
the  ancients,  it  is  also  equally  clear,  that  his  only  medium  of  com- 
numicating  the  results  of  this  study  must  be  the  common  language 
of  his  hearers ;  and  that  in  order  to  arrest  their  attention,  he  must 
be  able  to  present  his  thoughts  in  language  that  will  not  only  com- 
mand the  attention  of  the  ignorant  and  uneducated  ;  but  in  such  as 
will  not  shock  the  intellie;cnt  and  the  well  informed.  There  arc 
more  or  less  of  such  in  almost  every  religious  congregation  of  ihc 
present  day.* 

*  "But  il  iiwy  be  said,  tlie  greater  part  of  congregitioiis  consist  chicHy,  a'lil 
not  a  few  wholly,  of  plain,  illiterate  people.  Being  no  judges  of  language,  all 
they  require,  or  need,  is  the  communication  of  interesting  trutlis,  without  exact 
regard  to  words.  What  then  ?  Because  the  choice  of  words  claims  not  the 
preacher's  first  attention,  does  it  follow  that  it  is  a  matter  of  entire  iiidiflcr- 
ciice  %  Or  that  the  plain  language,  in  which  it  is  necessary  to  address  [iltiin 
hearers,  may  with  propriety,  or  must,  of  course,  be  incorrect!"  "In  every 
congregation  there  are  hearers  of  some  taste,  who  will  hardly  excuse  coarse 
and  incorrect  langunqe  in  a  preacher  any  more  than  they  would  excuse  him 
for  appearing  on  the  sabbath  in  the  apparel  of  a  c\ov/n."— Porter's  l.ect. 
on  ^'/y/r. 

"  Vulgarity  of  language  docs  inexpressible  injury  to  the  thought  conveyed 


298  Homiletics  and  Pulpit  Eloqvence.  [April, 

We  were  present  once,  at  a  meeting,  wliere  every  feeling  of 
solemnity  was  absolutely  overpowered  by  the  ludicrous  blunder  of 
one  who  was  called  on  to  load  the  devotions.  He  told  us,  design- 
ing, doubtless,  to  improve  on  that  passage  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
where  it  is  said  that  prayer  %yas  wont  to  be  made  by  the  side  of  a 
certain  river,  that  the  place  where  we  then  were  was  a  place 
where  prayer  was  7ni/ch  wanted  to  be  made.  But  this  was  not  so 
bad  as  an  example  Cjuotcd  from  the  Christian  Obsen-et  by  Dr. 
Porler  in  one  of  his  lectures  on  style  : — "  A  preacher  in  discoursing 
on  that  text,  Write,  blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord, 
made  this  observation,  '  There  is  a  right  blessedness,  and  a  wrong 
blessedness,  and  departed  saints  are  right  blessed,  that  is,  truly 
blessed.'  A  striking  jiroof,"  subjoins  the  Christian  Observer, 
"how  desirable  it  is  tliat  jmblie  teachers  should  be  able  not  only  to 
read  and  write,  but  also  to  spell." 

The  choice  of  suitable  subjects  for  pulpit  discussion,  the  best 
method  of  arrangement,  and  the  manner  most  likely  to  produce 
the  designed  eflecl,  are  topics  to  which  the  attention  of  him  whose 
whole  business  il  is  to  instruct  cannot  be  too  forcibly  directed. 
Tlic  age  in  which  we  live  abounds  in  models  for  the  instruction  of 
the  young  preaclicr,  and  the  press  is  constantly  teeming  with  the 
productions  of  profound  research  and  impassioned  eloquence.  The 
difliculty  is  not,  as  we  have  intimated  above,  that  there  is  any 
scarcity  of  suitable  works  of  this  kind,  but  in  directing  the  attention 
of  those,  -who  arc  not  cursed  with  a  superabundance  of  this  world's 
wealth,  to  such  as  will  be  most  beneficial  in  their  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances. 

From  the   volumes   nanrcd  at   the  head  of  tliis  ai'ticle,  much 

under  il,  how  jusl  and  iniiiortant  soever  it  may  be.  You  will  say  that  this  is 
the  elTcct  of  mere  prejudice  in  the  hearers,  consequently  unreasonable,  and  not 
to  bo  regarded.  Bo  it  that  this  is  prejudice  in  the  hearers,  and,  therefore,  un- 
reasonable. It  is  the  business  of  the  orator  to  accommodate  himself  to  men, 
such  as  he  sees  they  are,  not  such  as  lie  imagines  they  should  be.  But,  upon 
impartial  examination,  the  thing  perhaps  will  not  be  found  so  unreasonable  as 
at  first  sight  it  may  appear.  That  the  thought  may  enter  deeply  into  the 
mind  of  the  reader,  or  hearer,  there  is  need  of  all  the  assistance  possible  from 
the  cr/ircssion.  Little  progress  can  it  be  expected,  then,  that  the  former  shall 
make,  if  there  be  any  thing  in  the  latter  wliich  serves  to  divert  the  attention 
from  it.  And  this  effect,  at  least,  of  diverting  the  attention,  even  mere  gram- 
matical blunders  are  bpl  too  apt  to  produce," — CartipbcWs  Phil.  Rhet. 


ISII.]  Jlomilctics  and  Tulpit  Eloquence.  200 

vjluablc  instruction  may  be  derived.  They  arc  -Wiillcn  in  a  clear 
niiil  pleasing  style  ;  and  embody  the  results  of  irnicli  study  and 
practical  experience.  Bating  an  unnecessary  fling,  here  and  tlicrc, 
al  Anninianism,  but  with  which  we  are  not  disposed  to  cavil,  coming, 
as  it  docs,  from  a  Calvinistic  instructor,  ihey  may  be  confidently 
recommended  to  the  study  of  young  ministers  of  ever)'-  sect. 

Two  tlioughts  suggested  by  a  review  of  our  preceding  remarks 
may  be  here  added  on  the  subject  of  the  selection  of  suitable  books. 
The  one  is,  that  with  the  exception  of  mere  works  of  reference, 
such  as  Concordances,  for  instance,  it  is  unwise  for  a  minister  to 
lumber  the  shelves  of  his  library  with  books  that  lie  does  not  intend 
to  study.  His  time  may  be  better  employed,  and  his  money  laid 
out  to  better  advantage,  than  in  the  purchase  and  perusal  of  works 
designed  merely  for  recreation  or  literary  amusement.  His  leisure 
would  be  more  profitabl)'-  spent  in  composing  an  essay,  or  writing 
out  a  sermon  at  fidl  length.* 

The  other  thought  to  which  we  advert  is,  a  caution  against  re- 
jecting valuable  treatises,  merely  because  they  emanate  from  those 
^vho  diflcr  from  us  on  doctrinal  points.  The  bee  gathers  honey 
from  the  poisonous  flower ;  and  it  is  an  old  adage,  fas  est  ah  hoste 
doceri.  Several  of  the  Calvinistic  divines  of  the  present  day,  who 
have  been  recently  endeavoring  to  throw  light  on  the  doctrine  of 
Christian  perfection,  would  have  escaped  the  ridiculous  position 
they  occupy,  had  then-  attention  been  dii-ected  to,  and  had  they 
condescended  to  study  the  works  of  Wesley  and  Fletcher  on  tliat 
subject. 

'  We  take  great  jilcasure  in  transcribing-  tlic  foUowinr;  note  from  Dr.  Por- 
ter's lecture  on  the  style  of  the  pulpit.  It  has  ten-fold  force,  now  that  the 
proon  grass  waves  above  his  silent  pillow.  "  The  question  has  often  been  jHit 
to  ine,  '  To  what  extent  ought  a  theological  student  to  read  the  modern  ivorhs 
cffielion  with  a  view  to  improve  his  own  style  V  The  inquiry  has  commonly 
had  a  primary  regard  to  the  writings  of  Walter  Scott.  To  the  magic  of  his 
genius,  my  own  sensibilities  have  responded,  whenever  I  have  opened  his 
pages ;  but  the  very  enchantment  which  he  throws  around  his  subject  has 
warned  me  to  beware  of  putting  myself  in  his  power.  Tliis  is  one  reason  v.  hy 
1  have  read  but  two  or  three  of  all  the  volumes  of  fiction  trcm  his  prolitic  pen. 
Annlhcr  reason  is,  that  as  an  instructor  of  young  ministers  I  could  not,  wii.'i  a 
good  conscience,  devote  the  /fm?;  requi.sito  for  all  this  reading  of  romance  ;  nor 
am  I  willing  that  my  example  should  be  made  an  occasion  for  others  to  do  to 
tf ^'/i  /  am  in  my  gravc.^' 


300  Ho7/n'letics  aiid  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

The  frequent  changes,  consequent  upon  our  system  of  itinerancy, 
arc,  not  necessarily  indeed,  but,  nevertheless,  really  one  reason 
A\-hy  study  is  neglected,  and  so  many  of  our  teachers  are  them- 
selves untaught.  The  mind  i^^  naturally  prechsposed  to  sluggish- 
ness and  inactivity.  It  requires  resolute  determination  to  curb  its 
waywardness  and  to  bring  it  down  to  patient  study.  Whatever 
may  be  the  opinion  of  llic  thoughtless,  it  is  hard  work  to  think,  and 
menial  labor  is  even  more  fatiguing  than  bodily  toO.  Hence  it 
follows  that  niany  who  liavc  been  called  to  the  ministrj',  after  the 
first  year  or  two,  .seem  disjjosed  to  study  as  hlllc  as  possible  ;  to  get 
along  as  easily  as  tlicy  can.  Instead,  therefore,  of  pursuing  a 
.systematic  cour.-^!^  of  mental  culture  and  improvement,  they  sink 
into  a  state  of  torpiil  ajialhy ;  reading,  if  they  do  read,  without 
order,  without  method,  williout  design.  They  pass  their  j^ear,  or 
two  years,  if  there  is  not  a  remonstrance  against  their  being  sent 
back,  ill  preacliing  over  and  over  again  the  same  course  of  sermons 
which  fear  of  being  rejected  on  their  examination  induced  them 
to  prepare  during  the  lust  two  years  of  their  ministry.  The  pulpit 
efforts  of  such  men  have  been  compared,  with  as  much  truth  as 
quainlness,  to  the  maiuia  provided  for  the  children  of  Israel  in  the 
wilderness,  wliich  altliough  fresh  and  wholesome  when  gathered, 
j-et,  when  kept  over,  nolwitlistanding  all  their  care,  bred  worms 
and  stank.  There  i?  an  air  of  dishonesty  about  such  conduct,  that 
ouglit  to  make  a  Christian  minister  tremble  ;  it  is  a  species  of  im- 
position upon  the  people,  who  have  a  right  to  expect  the  best  of  his 
intellectual  efforts,  and  that  lie,  above  all  men,  will  not  attempt  to 
serve  God  with  tliat,  wliich  having  been  memorized  years  ago, 
now  costs  him  nothing.  Let  the  young  preacher  beware  of  attempt- 
ing to  get  along  easy.  He  is  sent  into  God's  vineyard  to  labor ; 
and  the  mere  repetition  of  a  stale  sermon,  tliough  he  may  exert  his 
lungs  in  its  delivery,  is  not  lalior ;  it  is  mere  "  bodily  exercise 
which  profitclh  hltle." 

We  would  not  be  understood  here,  to  imply  that  a  text,  because 
it  has  been  made  the  subject  of  a  sermon  once,  may  not  be  again 
used  by  the  preacher.  On  the  contraiy,  we  are  not  speaking  about 
the  text  at  all,  but  about  the  discourse  founded  thereon.  More  labor 
may  be  spent,  and  spent  profitably,  in  altering,  improving,  and  re- 
modeling a  sennon,  than  it  cost  in  its  original  composition.  We 
care  notlring  how  often  the  young  preacher  discourses  on  the  same 


ISIl.]  HomUctics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  r^Ol 

subject,  only  let  liim  see  to  it  that  he  neglect  not  suitable  care  and 
prcj)araliiin  ;  and  that  each  succeeding  etlort  be  an  improvement  on 
tiio  last  in  matter  and  in  style.  When  he  has  gone  so  far,  and 
arrived,  iu  his  own  opinion,  at  such  a  high  degree  of  excellence 
th.it  no  improvement  can  be  made,  it  is  time  for  him  to  lay  aside 
liiat  sermon,  and  to  preach  from  that  text  no  longer. 

The  approbation  and  applause  of  hearers,  upon  whose  judgment, 
in  other  matters,  the  preacher  would  place  no  reliance,  may  some- 
times encourage  him  in  his  neglect  of  suitable  preparation  for  the 
pul])it.  They  will  tell  him,  perhaps,  that  the  sermon  which  cost 
Jiim  little  or  no  mental  cfTort  was  one  of  his  best.  Predisposed  to 
idleness,  flattery  of  this  kind,  if  heeded,  will  make  him  a  very  drone. 
While  he  ought  to  listen  attentively  to  candid  criticism,  and  endeavor 
to  profit  by  judicious  advice  as  to  his  faults,  he  has  something  within 
that  will  not  fail  to  point  out  to  him  his  excellences  without  a 
prompter.  It  will  be  wise  in  him  to  close  liis  ears  to  the  voice  of 
indiscriininating  commendation,  let  it  come  from  what  source  it  may. 
It  was  .John  Bunyan,  if  our  memory  serves  us,  who  replied  to  one 
who  observed  in  his  hearing,  that  he  had  preached  an  excellent 
sermon — "  The  devil  told  me  that  before  I  came  out  of  the  pulpit." 

The  example  of  men  who  were  almost  without  education,  and 
who  scarce])'-  gave  any  attention  to  literary  pursuits,  and  whose 
labors  were,  nevertheless,  owned  and  blessed  of  God,  is  readily 
lu-ged  by  those  who,  determined  to  be  ignorant  themselves,  are 
seemingly  anxious  that  others  should  be  so  too.  But  what  a  bare- 
faced and  palpable  piece  of  sophistry  is  this.  It  assumes,  in  the 
fust  i)]acc,  what  cannot  by  any  possibility  be  proved,  that  these 
men  would  not  have  been  more  successful  in  winning  souls  to 
Christ  if  they  had  given  more  attention  to  the  cultivation  of  their 
own  minds.  And,  what  is  worse,  it  seems  to  imply,  for  here  is  the 
whole  gist  of  the  argument,  that  their  success  was  in  consequence 
of  their  ignorance.  Aji  absurdity  too  gross  to  impose  upon  any 
man  who  is  not  desirous  to  be  imposed  upon.  It  is  very  evident, 
that  the  men  to  whom  wc  have  alluded  (wc  honor  them  for  their 
works'  sake)  were  successful,  not  because  of  die  disadvantages 
under  which  they  labored,  but  in  spite  of  them.  The  peculiarities 
of  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  and  of  the  eircmnstances  under 
whirh  they  wore  placed,  may  accomit,  in  some  degi-ee,  for  their 
success ;  and  it  will,  at  least,  admit  of  a  question,  whether  the 


302  Jlomilclics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

same  men  with  the  same  zeal  would  be  equally  useful  at  the  pre- 
sent day '.'  Ardent  piety,  there  is  no  doubt,  is  always  more  dcsir- 
al>le  lh;m  mere  knowledge  ;  but  zeal  alone  is  no  equivalent  for  the 
two  combined. 

The  fact  is,  the  spirit  of  the  times  in  which  we  live  demands  high 
intellectual  attainments  on  the  part  of  those  who  profess  to  teach.  It 
is  not  onl)'  an  age  of  busllc  and  excitement,  but  an  age  of  reading. 
Volumes  of  sermons,  tmd  of  works  on  practical  Christianity,  arc 
published,  and  circulated,  and  read.  They  are  to  be  met  with,  not 
only  in  the  libraries  of  the  higher  classes,  but  on  tlie  tables  of  those 
in  middle  life.  By  the  praiseworthy  exertions  of  tract  societies, 
many  of  the  most  powerful  and  stirring  appeals  that  have  ever 
been  written,  are  put  into  the  liands  of  the  poor  and  the  illiterate. 
Whatever  may  be  the  truth,  as  to  the  number  of  real  Christians, 
it  is  beyond  controversy,  that  the  theory  of  Christianity  is  now 
better  understood  than  ever  it  was  in  all  preceding  time.  The 
contrast  between  the  dry  atid  cold  speculations  of  the  learned 
ministry'  of  a  former  day,  and  the  ardent  zeal  and  fervor  of  a  few  who, 
with  little  attention  to  the  graces  of  oratory,  preached  the  gospel  in 
the  demonstration  of  the  Spirit,  tciided  not  less  to  the  success,  than 
to  the  popularity  of  the  latter.  Rude  though  they  w'ere  in  speech, 
it  was  the  bread  of  life  they  broke  to  the  multitudes  who  thronged 
around  them,  forsaking  the  busks  and  chafi"  dealt  out  by  lliose  to 
whom  the  himgry  slicep  had  so  long  "  looked  up  and  were  not  fed." 
They  liad  in  their  favor  the  chann  of  novelty,  and  an  luiqucsliouable 
air  of  sincerity  and  singleness  of  purpose,  which  atoned  for  every 
deficiency,  and  contrasted  wonderfully  with  the  stale  and  threadbare 
liomilics  of  the  head  rather  than  the  heart,  so  universally  prevalent. 

But  that  day  has  gone  l)y.  The  mass  of  the  community  under- 
stand what  practical  piety  is,  and  know  full  well  what  a  professed 
minister  of  Clu-ist  ought  to  be.  They  will  not  be  satisfied  with 
dull  exhibitions  of  diy  and  prosing  morality  ;  nor  yet  with  zeal  and 
energy  iji  an  uncouth  garb,  when  they  may  have  them  adorned  with 
the  drapery  of  a  fascinating  eloquence  and  a  polished  style.  It  is 
perfectly  idle  to  say  it  ought  not  to  be  so.  We  must  take  men  as 
they  are,  and  instead  of  supposing  that  any  tiling  repulsive  can 
attract,  avoid,  as  far  as  in  us  lies,  every  thing  that  would  repel  the 
man  of  refined  and  cultivated  intellect,  as  carefully  as  we  would 
avoid  offending  the  weak  and  the  uneducated.     The  ministry  de- 


ISJI.I  Ilomilclics  and  Pulf  it  Eloquence.  303 

maiuled  by  llie  wants  of  the  piesent  age,  is  one  llial  shall  not  only 
be  holy,  and  fervent,  and  self-sacrificing  ;  but  educated,  enlightened, 
and  always  in  advance  of  the  surrounding  community.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  laid  down  as  a  rule,  admitting  of  but  few  exceptions,  that 
llie  ))reacher  will  always  be  in  advance  of  his  liearers  ;  for  if  lie  be 
not,  they,  as  a  general  tiling,  will  leave  liim,  and  seek  that  niinistiy 
by  wliicli  not  only  their  hearts  may  be  warmed,  but  tlieir  minds 
enlightened. 

Tills  is  tme  even  of  professing  Clmstians,  with  the  exception  of 
those  who,  from  conscientious  motives,  consent  to  sit,  until  a  change 
can  be  effected,  mider  the  ministrations  of  those  who  cannot  teach, 
because  the}^  will  not  learn.  So  far  from  piety  being  all  diat  is 
required  of  the  ministry  of  the  present  age,  there  is  no  more  com- 
mon form  of  expression,  when  censme  is  intended,  with  as  little 
harshness  as  may  be :  "  Brother  so  and  so  is,  no  douht,  a  tcnj 
good  man;  but — ."  Every  body's  experience  will  be;u-  testimony 
to  the  truth  of  this  remark. 

Another  feature  of  the  present  age  is,  the  unblushing  boldness  of 
error,  and  the  ten  thousand  varying  shapes  which  it  assmnes. 
Genius,  and  talent,  and  eloquence  are  pressed  into  its  service.     It  \ 

is  scattered  by  the  press,  disseminated  from  the  lecture  room,  aiid  \ 

instilled  by  tlic  pulpit.     In  our  own  coimtry,  where  the  rights  of  \ 

conscience  are  guarantied,  and  free  discussion  is  tolerated  on  almost  | 

every  topic,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  its  name  is  legion,  and  i 

that  its  votaries  are  many.     Now  the  ministry  of  Christ  have  been  | 

by  himself  constituted  the  guardians,  as  his  church  is  the  pillar  1 

and  ground  of  the  truth.     Is  it  enough  for  them  to  say,  tlie  tnuli  ■ 

is  on  our  side  ?    To  fold  their  arms,  while  error  is  riding  rampant  | 

through  the  land,  because,   forsooth,  the  old  adage  declares  thai  | 

truth  is  mighty  and  that  it  will  prevail !  Prevail,  w  ill  she  ?    Wliat,  j 

when  her  champions  he  wounded  and  bleeding  by  the  road  side, 
because  they  went  forth  illy  equipped,  nay,  only  half  armed  for  the 
contest  ?* 

*  There  was  a  public  controversy,  not  many  years  since,  between  a  Metlio- 
'list  minister  and  a  Universalist  on  the  doctrine  of  fuUire  punishment.  The 
perverted  ingenuity  and  sophistry  of  the  latter  were  more  than  a  match  for  tho 
simplicity  and  artlcssness  of  tho  former.  The  result  was  just  what  miglit  Ijivo 
wen  expcoted.  A  well-informed  member  of  our  church,  who  was  prestuv, 
declared  tliat  if  ho  had  not  been  fully  satisfied  of  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  from 


30-1  HomUetics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April, 

Yes;  llie  trath  will  prevail:  bat  God  has  decreed  that  lier 
triumph  shall  be  brought  about  hy  huiiian  instrumentality.  Her 
victories  ai-e  the  result  of  skill  and  energy  on  the  part  of  her  cham- 
pions :  skill  to  select  the  weapons  from  her  armory  and  energy  to 
wield  them. 

A  great  deal  is  said  about  the  beauty  and  the  power  of  simple 
and  uiiatloriied  truth  by  those,  who,  at  the  same  time,  overlook  the 
fact,  that  we  are  hving  in  a  world  in  which  truth  has  had  to  con- 
tend for  her  very  existence  from  the  first  hour  of  man's  apostasy  to 
the  present :  a  world  inhabited  by  men  of  like  feelings  and  dis- 
posilions  with  those  who,  when  the  truth  embodied  appeared 
among  thcni,  instead  of  embracing  it,  cried  out  for  the  scourge  and 
the  cross,  that  they  might  no  longer  endure  His  withering  glance. 
Men  love  darkness  nither  than  light,  no  less  now  than  they  did  in 
the  days  of  the  Savioiu" ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  error, 
in  her  protean  forms,  assiunes  the  garb  of  fascination,  and  seeks  by 
every  alhu-cment  to  increase  the  smiles  and  to  perpetuate  the 
homage  of  a  world  in  wliich  her  throne  is  erected.  To  teai'  off 
these  embellishments,  to  expose  sophistry,  to  chase  error  through 
her  many  windings,  and  to  present  unpalatable  truth  in  such  a 
manner  as  shall  induce  the  carnal  mind  to  listen,  and  listening,  to 
love  ;  this  is  the  work  for  heaven's  appointed  champions  ;  a  work 
of  constantly  increasing  difliculty,  and  for  the  accomplishment  of 
which,  with  the  anomting  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  learning,  and  skill, 
and  eloquence  arc  requisite. 

To  the  ministry  of  the  I\Ielhodist  Chiurch,  especially,  many  argu- 
ments may  be  advanced  bearing  on  the  importance  of  this  subject. 
We  will  merely  advert  to  a  few,  and  bring  this  article  to  a  close. 

The  fact  that  other  denominations  of  the  church  of  Christ  are 
insisting  on  a  higher  degree  of  piety  and  zeal  in  their  ministry,  as 
well  as  suitable  lileraiy  attainments,  is  an  omen  of  good  ;  a  subject 
for  unfeigned  rejoicing  among  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus.     It 

otlipr  .sources  ;  if,  in  other  words,  he  had  hnd  no  settled  opinion  on  that  subject, 
he  should  have  been  inclined  to  give  the  victoiy  to  the  Univcrsalist. 

We  shall  bo  censured,  perhaps,  for  givin;;  publicity  to  this  incident.  For 
our  own  part,  \vc  see  no  suflicicnt  reason  for  withholding;  it.  The  fact  is  as 
stated.  The  cfTort  of  our  brother  was  well  meant,  but  the  result — enough  to 
m.ake  an  angel  weep.  It  serves  to  illustrate  the  remarks  in  the  text ;  and  may 
stand  here  as  a  beacon  to  warn  men  front  undertalcing  that  to  which  they  are 
not  competent. 


IS  11.)  IIo?nilctics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  305 

miglil  be  difficult,  logically,  to  prove,  but,  in  our  minds,  there  is  no 
doubt  tint  this  is  in  a  gi-cat  degree  owing  to  a  holy  cmulatiou 
caused  by  llic  labors  and  the  success  of  the  ministry  of  our  church. 
No^^•,  while  we  would  not  have  this  ardor  in  any  degicc  cooled, 
nor  this  zeal  one  jot  abated,  wc  would  have  our  ministry-  able  to 
cope  with  that  of  any  other  branch  of  Christ's  church,  in  directing 
that  zeal  according  to  knowledge,  in  defending  peculiarities  of 
doctrine,  in  influencing,  swaying,  and  molding  the  public  mind. 
^^'c  hold  that  man  unworthj'  of  his  vocation,  we  doubt,  indeed, 
whether  he  has  not  mistaken  his  calling,  who  is  willing  that  the 
church,  of  which  he  is  a  minister,  should  be  thrown  into  the  back 
groujid,  or  should  rank  anjnvhere  but  first  in  its  inllucncc,  its 
power,  and  its  success. 

Do  we  really  bchcve  in  the  peculiarities  of  onr  creed  ?  Are  we 
convinced  that  there  is  more  of  truth  and  less  of  error  in  the  doc- 
trines of  our  own  than  ii\  those  of  oiu:  sister  churches  ?  Are  wc 
satisfied  that  the  "sect  everywhere  spoken  against"  is  destined  to 
embrace  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people,  when 
the  millcrmial  reign  of  Christ  shall  fill  the  earth  with  his  glory  ? 
Wc  profess  all  tliis.  That  we  axe  Methodists,  is  evidence  that  such 
is  oiu-  belief  and  om-  expectation  :  and  can  any  labor  be  too  great, 
or  any  toil  unnecessaiy  that  shall  tend  to  enable  the  ministry  of  our 
church  to  show  by  then  works  that  this  is  their  faith  ? 

Again,  the  tendency  of  om-  economy  is  evidently  and  unavoidably 
to  concentration.  Keeping  pace  with  the  population,  and  losing 
sight  of  territorial  limits,  the  district  becomes  a  conference  ;  and 
whnl,  in  many  instances,  was  once  a  circuit,  is  now  the  boundary 
of  a  district.  Stations  are  multiplying  everjnvherc  ;  and  within  a 
section  of  country  where  formerly  we  could  do  little  more  than 
fire  a  random  shot  at  different  places  once  a  month,  or  once  in  six- 
weeks,  now,  the  citadel  of  error  is  to  be  attacked  by  a  continued 
and  incessant  bombardment.  To  say  nothing  of  the  qualifications 
that  are  requisite  to  enable  our  ministry  to  appear  in  places  like 
these,  creditably,  when  compared  with  the  talent  and  eloquence  in 
the  pulpits  by  which  they  are  siurrounded,  the  wants  of  our  own 
people  demand  from  them  qualifications  that  they  cannot  have  with- 
out diligent  study  and  faithful  mental  discipline.  They  cannot  be 
s^ati^fifd  with  tedious  repetitions  and  reiterated  dulness  :  they  \vin 
not  be  satisfied  wth  awkwardness  or  monotony.    Hence  the  anxiety 


306  Hmniletics  and  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [April,  | 

of  our  people  to  secure  llie  services  of  sucli  men  as  they  suppose  are  | 

best  furnished,  intellectually,  for  tlie  pastoral  office,  is  pardonable,  | 

nay,  praiseworthy.     The  fact  that  a  man  is  a  Methodist  minister,  in  | 

good  standing,  is  satisfactory  evidence  of  his  piety ;  but  they  ask,  | 

with  solicitude  which  does  them  credit.  Is  he  qualified  to  meet  the  9 

opposition  that  ivp  have  to  contend  with  1    Can  he  feed  the  lambs  J 

of  our  flock  ?    Is  he  aljle  to  retain  our  congregations,  to  withdraw  i 

which  the  efforts  of  our  neighbors  are  skilful  and  vuiceasing  ?  "^ 

It  is  a  question  which  we  do  not  intend  to  answer,  but  which  we  | 

would  commend  to  those  who  are  loudest  in  their  denunciations  of  | 

what  is  called  the  "  petitioning  system,"  whether,  in  most  instances,  | 

that  practice  docs  not  arise,  on  the  part  of  our  people,  from  a  | 

sincere  and  ardent  desire  for  the  honor  arid  the  advancement  of  | 

Jlcthodism  ?    It  is  a  yet  gi-avcr  question,  and  one  still  more  per-  | 

tinent  to  the  subject  before  us,  whether  the  fault  complained  of  in  | 

this  respect  may  not  be  traced  to  the  door  of  the  ministry  ?    For  | 

tvho?n  do  the  people  petition?    Is  there  any  good  reason  why  all  ■, 

may  not,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  acquire  those  quahfications  for  ! 

which  the  church  asks  as  a  favor,  while  other  denominations  demand 
them  as  a  right  ?  In  fact,  the  embarrassments  of  our  executive  do 
not  arise  so  much  from  the  number  of  petitions,  with  whicli,  in 
some  conferences,  their  tables  groan,  as,  from  the  fact,  that  com- 
paratively but  a  few  men  arc  petitioned  for. 

Here  we  pause  for  the  present.  If  the  motives  urged  fail  to 
effect  the  object  for  which  we  ha\e  written,  the  fault  is  not  in  them, 
but  in  us.  In  ourselves,  we  mean,  because  we  have  not  presented 
them  with  sufffcient  vividness  and  energy;  or,  in  ourselves  still, 
for  we  are  one  among  our  brethren,  because  we  will  not  allow 
these  motives  to  have  their  due  inllucnce.  The  glory  of  God,  and, 
if  we  have  no  higher  object,  even  our  own  interest  for  this  world, 
as  well  as  for  that  which  is  to  come,  demand  from  every  minister 
of  ovu-  church  the  unceasing  improvement  of  the  talents  committed 
to  his  stewardship  :  lliat  Jlcthodism  may  be  urged  on  to  the  ac- 
complishment of  licr  destiny — the  publication  and  the  cmbracement 
of  a  FREE  and  a  fuli,  salvation  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  F. 


1 S 1 1 ,)  Christian  Perfection .  307 


Am-.  ^'II. —  1-  Scripture  Doctrine  of  Christian  Perfection,  v;ith 
oilier  kindred  Subjects,  illuslrated  and  confirmed  in  a  Scries  of 
])iscourses,  desig7ied  to  throw  light  on  the  Way  of  Holiness. 
By  Ivcv.  Asa  BIahan,  President  of  the  Oberlin  Collegiate  In- 
Miiutc.  Fourth  edition.  Pp.  193.  Boston:  published  by  D. 
.S.  King.  1810. 

2.  Christian  Perfection.  By  Exocir  Pond,  D.  D.,  Bangor  Theo- 
logical Seminary.  American  Bibhcal  Repository,  second  series. 
Vol.  I,  pp.  44-68. 

3.  Review  ofiMahan  on  ChristianPerfection.  By  Rev.  Nathaniel 
S.  FoLso.M.     Providence,  R.  I.     American  Biblical  Reposhoiy, 

.  second  scries.     Vol.  II,  pp.  143-166. 

4.  Strictures  on  Mr.  Folsoni's  Review  of  Mohan  on  Christian 
Perfection.  By  Rev.  Asa  Mahan,  President,  &c.  American 
Biblical  Repository.    Vol.  IV,  pp.  408^28. 

5.  Examination  of  the  Doctrine  of  Perfection,  as  held  by  Rev. 
Asa  Mahan,  President  of  the  Oberlin  Collegiate  Institute,  Rev. 
Chaixles  Fitch,  and  others  agrcehig  with  them.  By  Leonard 
Woods,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Theology  in  the  Theological  Semi- 
nar}',  Andover,  JIass.  American  Biblical  Repository.  Vol.  V, 
pp.  lGG-189. 

The  discussion  of  the  subject  of  Christian  perfection,  now 
pending  in  the  Presbyterian  and  Congregational  Churches,  is  a 
matter  of  no  small  interest  to  the  church  of  Chi-ist  in  general.  And 
at  present,  we  rejoice  to  say,  it  seems  to  be  assuming  a  tone  which 
augurs  a  favorable  result.  The  best  talents  arc  called  into  re- 
quisition, and  a  becoming  gravity  and  brotherly  feeling  characterize 
the  parties  engaged  in  the  investigation. 

We  are  not  at  all  disposed  to  intermeddle  with  questions  of  dif- 
ference among  other  denominations,  so  far  as  these  questions  are  j 
merely  local  or  only  interesting  to  them.  But  this  question  is  one 
of  general  interest,  and  such  is  the  relation  which  is  lield  to  it  by 
a!,  the  followers  of  Wesley,  that  it  cannot  be  supposed  they  ■\^■ill 
look  on  with  indifference.  Especially  as  the  views  of  Wesley  and 
the  Methodists  frequently  come  into  question ;  and,  as  we  think, 
arc  sometimes  but  badly  represented,  it  ought  not  to  be  taken 
amiss  that  we  should  interpose  at  this  time  a  brief  review  of  the 
controversy. 

Wc  have  read  Mr.  Mahan's  book  with  great  interest  and  satis- 


Christian  Pei-fection.  [AprO, 


faction.  Though  it  is  not  to  be  maintained  that  he  expresses  him- 
self jMcthodistically  iijioii  all  the  points  of  this  gieal  doctrine,  we 
are  satisfied  that  the  tiling  ^vhic•h  wo  mean  by  Christian  perfection 
is  truly  set  forth  in  that  work.  The  faikre  to  express  the  Wes- 
leyan  theory,  if  in  any  point,  is  in  not  sufficiently  distingiiishing 
between  legal  and  evangelical  perfection.  This  we  merely  hint 
bj'  the  way,  being  by  no  means  certain  that  there  is  any  real  dif- 
ference between  his  conceptions  of  the  subject  and  oiu:  own. 

The  point  vipon  which  we  feared,  wlien  wc  took  up  his  book,  we 
should  fijid  him  to  liave  failed,  is  the  distinct  and  proper  recognition 
oUlivinc  infucnce  as  the  efficient  cause  of  the  work  of  sanctification- 
But  his  language  upon  this  point  seems  sufficiently  cxphcit. 

We  shoidd  be  happj',  had  wc  room,  to  give  a  complete  analysis 
of  tliis  work,  but  after  \\\at  we  have  said,  we  must  leave  those 
who  wish  further  information  with  regard  to  its  character,  to  pro- 
cure and  read  it  for  themselves. 

We  shall  next  notice  Dr.  Pond's  article,  in  opposition  to  the 
doctrine  of  Clu-istian  perfection.     This  writer  first  gives  us  his  I 

views  of  the  diflferent  .schemes  of  "  the  pretenders  to  Christiaai  i 

perfection  ;"  sccondli/,  lie  attempts  to  meet  the  arguments  by  which  j 

its  abettors  labor  to  sujiport  it ;  and,   thirdbj,  he  brings  against  it  | 

several  objections.  | 

"The  question,"  Dr.  P.  saj-s,  "is  one  ol  fact.'"     He  does  not  ! 

deny  that  the  doctrine  is  taught  in  the  Bible  :  admits  that  we  arc 
commanded  to  be  perfect ;  that  the  apostle  prayed  that  his  Chris- 
tian brethren  might  be  made  perfect,  that  this  state  is  matter  of 
promise,  and  that  we  are  bound  ever  to  aspire  to  it ;  but  then  it 
turns  out  to  be  a  "  fact"  that  none  ever  arc  so.     That  no  man  since  \ 

the  full,  iL'hile  living,  ever  attained  to  this  state,  nor  will  any  in 
future  to  the  end  of  time.  We  shall  not,  at  present,  controvert 
this  point,  nor  attempt  an  answer  of  the  aiUhor's  arguments,  but 
shall  merely  undertake  to  set  him  right  in  some  things  in  which  he 
lias  failed  to  represent  what  the  "  fact"  really  is  in  the  case.  In 
this  controversy,  as  a  matter  of  course,  Mr.  Wesley  must  come  in 
for  a  share  of  praise  on  one  side,  and  of  blame  on  the  other.  But 
we  arc  sorry  that  a  VTiter  of  so  much  character  as  is  Dr.  P.  should 
have  been  so  very  careless  a  reader  of  Jlr.  Weslej^'s  ^\Titings,  and 
should  so  represent  liis  views  upon  important  points  connected  with 
this  question,  as  to  leave  a  false  and  an  injurious  impression. 


Iji-ll.]  Chrisliun  Perfection.  309 

]]i  a  note  Dr.  P.  says, — 

"Mr.  WoU'V  iliJ  not  intend,  perhaps,  to  depress  llic  standnrd  cf 
du!-,- ;  but  he  I'leld  to  the  repeal  of  '  the  Adamie  law,'  and  thouL'ht  it 
very  ecinsislenl  with  perfection  that  persons  should  fall  into  grc-dl  errors 
and  fuilix.     See  his  Plain  Account,  pp.  93,  94." 

"  (I'rcal  errors  aiid  faults''  are  not  Mr.  Wesley's  words,  Init 
wonU  wliicli  perhaps  suit  Dr.  P.  a  little  better  than  any  he  could 
find  in  llic  author  upon  wliom  lie  palms  such  obnoxious  doctrines. 

Dr.  P.  seems  entirely  to  have  overlooked  the  explanatory  clause 
ineludcd,  in  the  copy  before  us,  in  a  parenthesis,  but  which  origin- 
ally was  inserted  in  a  foot  note.  Having  said  that  "  Christ  is  the 
end  of  tlie  Adamie,  as  v.'cll  as  of  the  Jlosaic  law,"  that  "by  his 
death  he  liath  put  an  end  to  both  :  nor  is  any  man  living  bound  to 
observe  the  Adamie  more  than  the  Mosaic  law,"  Mr.  Wesley  adds 
lliis  explanation  :  "  I  mean,  it  is  not  the  condition  cither  of  present 
or  future  salvation."  Now,  had  Dr.  P.  noticed  this  very  important 
quahficalion,  he  could  not  consistently  have  stated,  \mqualificdly, 
tliat  iMr.  "Wesley  "held  to  the  repeal  of  the  Adamie  law."  His 
simple  view  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  this  :  that  present  and 
future  salvation  are  suspended  upon  the  condition  of  faith,  vith- 
vui  the  xoorhs  of  the  lav:.  But  if  Dr.  P.  takes  the  converse  of 
this  proposition,  and,  contrary  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Confession  ot 
Faith  of  his  own  church,  believes  in  salvation  by  the  law  as  a 
covenant  of  works,  let  him  come  out  and  say  so. 

Tlicrc  is  still  another  injurious  and  en-oneous  representation 
of  .Mr.  Wesley's  language  in  this  article.  After  saying  some 
things  of  those  who  profess  to  have  attained  Christian  perfection, 
not  highly  imbued  with  charit)-,  the  writer  adds  in  a  note, — 

"  In  illustration  of  what  is  here  said  I  cannot  forbear  quoting  a  few 
sentences  from  Mr.  Wesley's  '  Plain  Account'  of  some  of  his  perfect 
followers  in  London." 

He  now  quotes  several  paragraphs  of  what  Mr.  Wesley  says  of 
"  lliose  in  London  who  seem  to  have  been  latel}'-  renewed  in  love," 
but  who  were  evidently  wanting  in  tlie  characteristics  of  perfect 
Christians;  being  deficient  in  "gentleness,  goodness,  fidelity," '■'^c. 
And  in  the  conclusion  of  his  remarks  Mr.  Wesley  says,  "You  have 
not  wliat  I  call  perfection.  If  others  will  call  it  so,  they  may. 
However,  hold  fast  what  you  have,  and  earnestly  pray  for  what  you 
have   not."     Bui  how  Dr.  P.  could  quote  this  language  of  Mr. 

Vol.  I.— 20 


310  Christum  Perfection.  [April, 

Wesloy,  as  said  "  of  some  of  his  perfect  followers  in  London,"  and 
]io\v  lie  coidd  make  out,  even  after  all  Mr.  Wesley  says  of  them, 
that  these  people  were  "  far  gone  in  enor  and  sin,"  we  ai'e  utterly  at 
a  loss  to  see.  The  whole  is  an  effort  upon  the  part  of  Jlr.  "Wesley 
to  show  that  these  persons  were  not  entided  to  be  considered  as 
perfect  Christians.  lie  says  to  them  plainl}^  "  You  have  not  what 
I  call  perfection."  Can  it  be  possible  that  Dr.  P.  failed  to  under- 
stand a  few  plain  Enulisli  sentences,  written  with  characteristic 
perspicuity  ?  We  would  fain  hope  that  the  fault  was  in  his  power 
of  attention,  and  that  it  did  not  originate  in  a  design  to  make  a 
Avrong  impression.  Of  such  a  design  we  charitably  hope  the  doc- 
tor is  incapable. 

We  next  pass  to  notice  Jlr.  Folsom's  review  of  Mr.  Mahan's 
book.  After  premising  that  the  question  is  simply  a  question  of 
fact,  and  inflicting  a  slight  chastisement  upon  Mr.  M.  for  "not 
fairly"  stating  "  the  question  at  issue,"  Sir.  F.  proceeds  to  spend 
liis  strength  u])on  Mr.  M.'s  arguments ;  and  then  adduces  "  a 
few  brief  considerations,  to  slrengtlien  the  proof  which  has  long 
been  the  defense  of  the  church,  in  respect  to  the  doctrine  that  none 
ever  reach  a  state  of  ))erfcct  and  perpetual  holiness  in  the  present 
life."  His  brief  "coiisidi^rations"  consist  in  nine  assumptions,  which 
prove  nothing  at  all.  'J'liey  amount  to  about  this  :  tlie  doctrine 
that  no  one  ever  attains  perfection  in  this  life  is  proved  by  all 
those  passages  whicli  deny  the  fact  of  tlie  existence  of  perfect 
Christians  !  Where  these  "  passages"  are  he  leaves  his  readers 
to  find  out.  The  last  jwragraph  of  this  writer  is  not  a  little  remark- 
able.    The  following  is  a  ])art  of  it : — 

"  There  is  one  pcnnaiiont  and  \-isible  state  which  the  Christian  must 
reach.  It  is  that  whore  his  hie  will  be  in  general  accordance  with  the 
roqiiironu'iits  of  God's  word.  He  nuist  be  able  to  say  with  Paul,  I 
know  noihiiic;  by  myself.  He  nnist  live  free  from  open,  known  sin, 
free  from  Iransgrcssidn  in  secret.  His  growth  must  be  permanendy 
upward  into  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man  in  Christ." 

Now,  if  we  arc  not  deceived,  this  cotncs  very  httle  short  of  the 
very  state  which  this  gentleman  has  taken  so  much  pains  to  prove 
will  never  he  attained.  If  we  "  must  live  free  from  open  and 
known  sin,"  and  "'  from  Iransgi-ession  in  secret,"  what  place  is 
left  fur  sin  of  any  kind  ?    Is  not  all  "sin"  either  "open"  or  "secret?" 

President  Mahan's  rejily  to  Mr.  Folsom  is  written  with  abihty 
and  in  good  temper.  The  simple  question  at  issue  he  makes  to  be, 
20* 


1  SI  1 .]  Christian  Perfection.  3 1 1 

"  Whfilirr  we  may  now,  during  the  piogiess  of  the  present  life, 
nllain  to  fiuire  perfoetion  in  holiness,  and  whether  it  is  proper  for  us 
to  iiuUil"o  the  anticipation  of  making  such  attainments." 

Tlie  fact,  that  some  arc  represented  in  the  Scriptttres  as  Iwving 
atlaineJ  this  state,  he  only  adduced,  because  of  its  bearing  \ipon 
tliis  question.  The  question  of  fact  Mr.  M.  fairly  rests  upon  Scrip- 
ture ground,  but  we  have  not  space  for  a  specimen. 

The  next  who  enters  tlie  list  against  President  Mahan  is  Dr. 
Woods,  of  Andover.  This  gentleman  writes  in  good  temper,  and 
manifests  great  respect  for  the  cliaracter  and  feelings  of  tlie  man 
he  feels  constrained  to  oppose.  After  a  brief  introduction,  he 
makes  the  following  statement : — 

"When  a  man  tmdertakes  to  sustain  and  propagate  a  novel  sy.siem 
— a  system  different  from  what  has  commonly  been  entcrtaincnl  liy  the 
best  of  men — it  is  inadmissible  for  him  to  set  forth,  as  a  part  of  liis 
system,  any  opinions  which  are  held  by  those  from  whom  he  professes 
to  differ." 

To  this  no  valid  objection  can  be  made,  provided  he  confine  his 
restriction  to  the  question  in  debate.  But  there  is  a  countcr|)art 
to  this  proposition  upon  which  it  will  be  I\Ir.  Mahan's  privilege,  if 
he  should  see  proper,  to  insist ;  and  that  is,  that  in  opposing  a  novel  | 

doctrine,  nothing  should  be  assumed  as  common  ground  which  does  -i 

not  legitimately  constitute  a  part  of  tlie   ordinary  creed.     This  > 

latter  restriction  is  as  legitimate  and  as  important  a  rule  of  discus-  | 

sion  as  the  former,  and  one  by  which  Dr.  Woods  is  most  sacredly 
bound  to  be  governed,  ^^'hether  he  has  adhered  to  it  we  sliall 
presently  see  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  lie  tliinks  Mr.  i\I.  has  jiassed 
over  his  boundary. 

The  "views"  which  the  doctor  charges  Mr.  M.  with  maintain- 
ing as  "  dilforcnt"  from  those  commonly  entertained  by  his  brellireu. 
and  wliich  lie  maintains  are  not  "novel,"  but  equally  "hold  by 
those  from  whom  he  professes  to  differ,"  may  be  expressed  in  the 
simple  proposition,  that  Christian  perfection,  or  salvation  from  all 
sin,  is  ATTAiN..\.i3LE  Jioic,  during  the  present  life.  This,  all  Mr. 
Malian's  opponents,  so  far,  have  declared  to  be  common  ground. 
and,  consequently,  not  tlie  question  at  issue.  That  Dr.  Woods 
takes  this  ground  will  be  seen  in  the  following  passage,  wliich  coii- 
i^titutcs  but  a  small  portion  of  what  he  says  lo  the  same  purpose  :— 

"  .\\u\  bo  lavs  it  down  as  a  truth,  which  distinguishes  his  system 
from  ilie  one  generally  held,  that  'complete  holiness  is,  in  iho  liigbest 


312  Christian  Perfection.  [April, 

and  most  common  acceptation  of  tlio  term,  atiainahlc.  And  in  the  last 
nimibcr  of  the  I'cpository  (p.  109)  he  states  it  as  a  point  peculiar  to 
him  and  his  party,  'that  \ve  may  render  to  God  the  perfect  obedience 
which  he  requires.'  But  \vc  hold  to  this  as  much  as  he  docs,  and,  as 
1  suppose,  on  the  same  conditions ;  that  is,  we  may  render  perfect 
obedience,  if  we  apply  ourselves  to  the  work  as  wc  ought,  and  fully 
avail  oursclvex  of  the  f,rvacious  provisions  of  the  gospel.  He  surely 
would  not  say  that  we  may  render  perfect  oljcdience  in  any  other  way. 

"  I  nuist  iheriforc  protest  here,  as  I  did  in  the  former  case,  against 
Mr.  Mahau's  claiming  that,  ns  belonging  peculiarly  and  exclusively  to 
liim,  and  to  those  who  agree  with  him,  which  belongs  equally  to  others. 
We  hold  as  decidedly  as  he  does,  that,  in  the  common  acceptation  of 
the  term,  complete  holiness  is  aUuinahlc  in  the  present  life.  When  we 
assert  that  a  iliiug  is  atlai/iablc,  or  7miy  be  attained,  our  meaning  is,  tliat 
a  proper  use  of  means  will  secure  it ;  that  we  shall  obtain  it,  if  we  do 
what  we  ought ;  and  that,  if  wc  fail  of  obtaining  it,  truth  will  require 
us  to  say  we  might  have  obtained  it,  and  that  our  failure  was  owing 
altogether  to  our  own  fault." 

In  another  place  ])r.  W.  as.?erts,  that  "  devout  Christians  and 
orthodox  divines  jiavc  in  all  ages  maintained  this  precious  doctrine," 
and  that  he  "  mi.iiht  fill  volumes  ^vitll  quotations  from  evangelical 
writers,  froin  Auniislinc  down  to  the  present  day,  in  which  this 
grand  sentimciU  is  strongly  asserted  and  clearly  illustrated." 
Among  these  "  orthodox  divines"  he  names  Calvin,  Flavel,  Owen, 
Bunyan,  \^'alls,  Doddridge,  President  Davis,  Good,  IM'Latircn, 
and  .Tolm  Ncwlon. 

Wc  know  we  cannot  mistake  Dr.  W.'s  meaning,  for  lie  has  so 
varied  and  repeated  his  statements,  and  has  so  seriously  argued 
from  them,  through  tiie  whole  of  his  article,  that  there  is  no  room 
left  for  doubt,  'i'liis  learned  Calvinistic  divine  then,  not  only 
avows  his  belief  in  the  doctrine  of  the  attainableness  of  Christian 
perfection  in  the  present  life,  but  declares  this  to  have  been  the 
common  doctrine  of  "  orthodox  divines, — from  Augustine  down  to 
the  present  dayP  What  class  of  divines  the  doctor  means  by 
"  orthodox  divines,"  is  obvious  from  the  names  he  gives. 

Now,  we  hope  Dr.  W.  will  not  deem  it  impertinent  in  us  to  in- 
quire, whether  tliis  representation  is  historically  coiTCCt.  The  fact 
is,  that  the  very  gist  of  the  controversy  between  the  Methodists 
and  Calvinists  upon  the  subject  of  Christian  perfection  has  ever 
been  its  attainableness,  and  this  Dr.  W.  says,  "  orthodox  divines" 
liave  always  "  maintained."  Had  the  good  doctor  carefully  read 
Mr.  Fletcher's  Last  Check  to  Antinomianisrn,  he  could  Iiardly 
have  fallen  into  the  errors  in  point  of  fact  which  he  lias  evidently 


iSil-]  Christian  Perfection.  313 

coinniitlcd.  Messrs.  Hill,  Toplady,  I\Iartin,  and  others,  who  fiercely 
assailed  the  duclrine  of  perfection,  as  held  by  Messrs.  Wesley  and 
riolclicr,  did  explicitly  deny  the  attainableness  of  Christian  pcr- 
frrtii'ii  in  the  present  life,  and  steadily  assert  the  necessary  con- 
tiiiiiaiire  vf  indwelling  sin  until  the  hour  of  death.  This  fact  we 
iiiiqhl  prove  by  numerous  quotations,  had  we  room.  Now  will  the 
ductor  impugn  the  orthodoo^y  of  these  "  divines,"  and  allow  thai 
the  right  of  the  quarrel  was  on  the  side  of  Messrs.  Wesley  and 
Fli-tchcr  ?  This  ho  certainly  must  do,  or  stand  convicted  of  pal- 
pable error  in  point  of  historical  fact. 

There  are  others  who,  it  may  be  presumed.  Dr.  AV.  will  feel 
l)ound  to  acknowledge  as  "  orthodox  divines,"  who  have  explicitly 
taken  the  same  ground.  The  learned  and  truly  "  orthodox"  Wit- 
scus  says, — 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,  but  whoever  carefully  walks  in  this  way, 
shall  luukc  very  great  progress  in  sanctification.  and  daily  arrive  lunrc 
and  nwrc  at  a  nearer  conlbrmit}-  to  the  pattern  set  belbre  him.  llow- 
cvrr.  wc  are  not  to  imagine,  thai  ever  any  one  in  this  life  can  attain 
to  that  ])crfeciion  which  the  law  of  God  requires,  that,  li\dng  without 
all  sill,  he  should  wholly  employ  himself  in  the  service  of  God,  widi 
that  piirily,  thai  intenscuoss  of  all  his  powers,  that  the  divine  holiiic^s 
itself  could  find  notlung  in  lum  but  what  was  agreeable  to  it." — 
Economy  of  the  Covenants,  vol.  ii,  pp.  55,  50. 

Dr.  John  Dick  saj-s, — 

"  The  possibility  of  perfection  in  the  present  state,  could  be  con- 
ceived only  by  men  who  were  ignorant  of  Scripture  and  of  themselves 
Thoy  must  fust  have  lowered  the  standard  of  holiness.  They  nuist 
have  narrowi'il  and  abated  the  demands  of  the  divine  law,  to  meet  tlu  ir 
fancied  attainments." — Lectures  on  Theology,  vol.  ii,  p.  242. 

iJcv.  Charles  Buck  says,— 

'•  There  is  also  a  perfection  of  dcirrccs,  by  which  a  person  perforins 
all  the  commands  of  God,  with  the  full  exertion  of  all  his  powers,  with- 
out ihu  least  defect.  This  is  what  the  law  of  God  requires,  but  what 
the  saints  cannot  attain  to  in  this  life." — Theological  Dictionary,  Artielf^ 
Perfection. 

HcTC  arc  three  "  orthodox  divines"  wlio  explicitly  deny  the 
ottai/iablcncss  of  Christian  pafcclion  in  the  jnxscnt  life,  and  one 
of  them  chaVgcs  those  who  hold  "  the  possibility  of  perfection  in 
the  jiresent  slate,"  with  having  "lowered  the  standard  of  holiness' 
and  "  narruwed  and  abated  the  demands  of  the  divine  law."  Now 
as  Dr.  Wuoils,  Dr.  Pond,   Mr.  Folsom,  and  all  others  who  like 


314  Christian  Pcrftction.  [April, 

them  distinctly  admit  "  the  possibility  of  perfection  in  the  present 
slate,"  and  blame  Mr.  Jlaiian  for  announcing  this  as  a  new  doc 
trine,  one  not  received  by  the  churches  willi  which  he  is  in  con 
neclion  ;  they  must  come  in  for  a  share  of  tliis  condemnation,  and 
must  prepare  to  defend  tliemselvcs  against  the  very  serious  charge 
of  lowering  the  standard  of  holiness. 

Our  last  authority,  we  know,  has  Dr.  Woods'  highest  respect  and 
confidence :  it  is  the  General  Asseiidily  of  the  Preshyterian 
Church.  The  following  is  ihc  M9lh  question  and  answer  of  the 
"  Larger  Catechism  :" — 

"  Is  any  man  able  pcrfcctlij  to  keep  the  commandments  of  God  ? — No 
man  is  able,  either  of  "himself,  or  by  any  grace  received  in  this  life, 
perfectly  to  keep  the  coimn.nnhncnts  of  God  ;  but  doth  daily  break 
them  in  thought,  word,  and  t\ci.-i\."— Confession  of  Faith  and  Catechisms 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  tlie  United  States,  p.  268.  | 

This  article  wc  have  ever  supposed  sets  forth  the  doctrine  of  the  \ 

Presbyterian    Churcli,   and  though  Drs.   Pond   and  Woods,  and  | 

"  devout    Christians    and    orlliodox    divines,"    and    "  evangcHcal  f 

ministers  generally,"  of  the  same  communion,  have  taken  up  a  j 

dillerent  view  of  the  subject,  we  have  not  been  advised  that  the  i 

General  Asscmhhj  has  ever  rescinded  tliis  article  or  changed  its  I 

phraseology.     Can  Dr.  Woods  be  right  then  in  his  representation  | 

of  the  conimon  ground  upon  this  point  ?  | 

As  to  the  writers  whose  names  Dr.  W.  gives  in  support  of  his  j 

position,  tliat  the  attainablcncss  of  perfection  is  an  old  and  common  i 

doctrine  among  "  orthodox  divines,"  and  "  evangelical  ministers,''  i 

we  have  not   had    time   siiUlcicntly  to  examine  their  voluminous  | 

•writings  to  become  entirely  satisfied  whether  he  has  fairly  repre  ' 

sented  them.     One  of  them,  the  learned  and  pious  Dr.  Doddridge,  I 

says,—  I 

"  On  the  whole,  none  can  protend  to  say  that  it  is  absolutely  impos-  I 

sible  for  us  to  do  our  best,  or  that  God  now  requires  us  to  do  belter  I 

ihan  we  possibly  can  in  present  circumstances  ;  nor  can  we  certainly  \ 

say  that  no  one  has  ever  exerted  the  utmost  of  the  capacities  God  has  1 

given  him  in  any  particular  act  of  duty." — Miscellaneous  Works,  p.  459.  } 

But  in  tliis  instance  Dr.  Doddridge  goes  a  little  too  far  for  Dr.  j 

Woods,  for  he  not  oidy  admits  the  jjossibility  of  doing  all  that  God  ; 

require.*,  but  denies  tiiat  wc  can  be  sure  that  no  one  Juts  actually 
done  this.  Tiiis  is  a  little  mure  than  Dr.  Woods  wants,  to  make 
out  his  case. 


IS'II.]  Christian  Perfection.  315  ! 

Wc  will  now  leave  the  queslion  of  the  attainalilcncss  of  perfection,  j 

and  ucimitling  lliiit  Jlr.  Jlahan's   opponents   have  always  held  as  | 

firmly  to  tlii.s  doctrine  as  lie  does  ;  and,  if  you  please,  that  this  has  j 

always   been   ihe  doctrine  of  those  "divines"  whom   Dr.  Woods  | 

jecoi^niizes  as  "orthodox;"  we  will  now  inquire  wluit  is  the  true  1 

issue  helween  Mr.  Slahan  and  his  opponents,  accorLung  to  tlicni.  j 

Tlioy  say  the  question  is  simply  one  oifact : — That  Mr.  M.  ailirnis 
and  tliey  deny  the  fact  that  any  have  ever  attained  to  a  state  of 
Christian  perfection,  or  that  any  ever  ivill  attain  to  this  stale. 
Now,  though  this  indeed  seems  to  us  a  mere  evasion  of  the  real 
question  at  issue  ;  though  it  never  Avas  the  7nain  question  between 
the  nsscrtcrs  and  deniers  of  the  doctrine  of  Christian  perfection ; 
yet  wc  will  pass  to  see  how  much  is  gained  bj^  thus  clianging  ilic 
ground  of  the  discussion. 

Urs.  Pond  and  Woods  admit  that  we  are  commanded  to  be  per- 
fect, encouraged  to  seek  for  perfection,  authorized  to  pray  for  it, 
and  that  it  is  distinctly  promised  in  the  Bible,  and  yet  it  is  (/  rr- 
vcalcd  fact,  settled  and  fixed  by  the  pen  of  inspiration,  that  none 
ever  did  or  ever  will  attain  to  this  state  diui/ig  the  present  life. 
Now  liere  is  an  anomal3^  God  requires  us  to  scch  what  he,  at  the 
same  time,  tolls  us  we  never  will  obtain  !  Can  these  learned  divines 
sliow  us  any  other  instance  in  the  word  of  God  where  we  arc  re- 
quired to  seek  what  no  one  ever  attained  or  ever  will  attain  in  iliis 
life  ?  Wc  do\ibt.  And,  moreover,  we  doubt  whether  this  view  of 
tlie  subject  helps  the  matter  at  all.  Who  will  ever  set  himself 
seriously  to  seek  what  he  knows  he  never  will  fuid  ?  That  tlicrc 
is  very  little  dilTcrence,  in  this  case,  between  will  not  and  cannot, 
even  in  the  estimation  of  the  various  classes  of  the  opposcrs  of 
Cliristian  perfection,  is  perfectly  demonstrable. 

Dick,  as  is  seen  above,  identifies  holding  the  doctrine  of  "  th.c 
]'osj.ibility  of  perfection"  with  the  "fancied  attainments"  of  those 
who  liold  this  doctrine.  Witsius,  and  the  assembly  of  divines  in 
tlic  Larger  Catechism,  quote  precisely  the  same  passages  to  prove 
the  impossibility  of  perfection  that  Mr.  Mahan's  opponents  do  to 
prove  the  non-existence  of  Wiafact.  And  it  is  here  very  worthy  of 
remark,  that  of  all  the  passages  quoted  by  these  high  authoriiies, 
not  one  says  any  thing  about  the  unattainahlcness  of  pcrlcc 
t'n,  but  they  simply  assert  facts.  Now  supposing,  what  by 
the  by  wc  do  not  admit,  that  these  passages  mean  what  Calvini.-tic 


316  ■  Christian  Perfection.  [April, 

interpreters  contend  for  in  tlicir  pliilological  exegesis,  then  tlicj- 
simply  assert  the  fact  that  there  is  no  man  luiihout  sin.  Well, 
from  tliis/ac<,  asserted  by  the  sacred  WTiters,  as  they  suppose,  the 
learned  reformer  ahovc  referred  to,  Dr.  Dick,  Mr.  Buck,  and  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Prcsbjicrian  Church,  conclude  that  per- 
fection 25  not  attainable.  And  though  Dr.  Woods  and  others  on 
the  contrcury  assert  the  attainabJencss  of  a  state  of  perfection,  what 
practical  influence  will  this  have  ii]TOn  themselves  or  others,  so  long 
as  they  deny  x\\c fact  that  any  w'lW  ever  attain  to  this  state?  Will 
not  tlie  latter  bo  likely  to  practice  jnst  as  the  former  reason  ? 

Witsius,  with  singular  consistency,  carries  out  the  practical 
bearings  of  his  doctrine.     He  says, — 

"  Seeing  God  lins  expressly  declared  that  he  does  not  give  his 
people  absokite  perfection  in  thi«  life,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  to  acquiesce 
in  this  dispo>iti(ni  uf  ilic  divine  will,  nor  are  they  allowed  to  beg  of  God 
to  grant  tlieni  that  pcrfrrliou  here,  which  they  know  he  ha.s  not  ap- 
pointed for  thi:-,  but  for  the  other  life."' — Economy  of  the  Covenants, 
vol.  ii,  p.  CI. 

Now  litis  is  riglit.  No  man  should  feel  himself  authorized  to 
ask  of  God  71010  what  he  knows  is  in  the  divine  economy  "not 
apjunnled  for  this,  hut  for  the  other  life."  And  can  Dr.  Woods, 
with  his  present  views,  fervently  and  helievingly  pray  to  God  to 
onakc  him  perfect  now  1  Believing  him  to  be  constituted  just  hkc 
otlier  men,  iiotwilhstanding  all  he  has  said  upon  the  subject,  we 
still  have  some  doubts  as  to  this.  How  a  man,  in  the  exercise  of  a 
.sound  mind,  can  pray,  with  the  expectation  of  being  heard  and 
answered,  for  what  he  believes  never  was  and  never  loill  he,  is 
something  quite  beyond  our  comprehension. 

But  is  there  any  marked  difference  between  the  preaching, 
})raving,  and  the  actual  efforts  of  those  divines,  who,  with  the 
Catechism,  assert  that  ''  no  man  is  able,  either  of  himself,  or  by 
any  grace  received  in  this  life,  perfectly  to  keep  the  commandments 
of  God,"  and  tho.-^e  who,  with  Dr.  Woods,  simply  deny  the  fact 
that  any  ever  hare  perfectly  kept  the  comviamhncnts  of  God  or 
ever  xrill  do  so  ?  If  there  be  any  such  difference,  it  is  yet  for  us  to 
learn.  And  should  Drs.  Woods  and  Pond  begin  to  preach  the 
i?/unediale  attainahlencss  of  Christian  perfection,  assuring  their 
hearers  that  God  requires  and  prnmiscs  complete  and  perfect  holi- 
ness NOW,  and  tli.ii  they  arc  pcrinittrd,  and  even  hoiuid  to  seek 
for  it  as   at  present  within  their  reach,  how  long  would  it  be  ere 


1841.1  Christian  Perfection.  '  317 

llicy  would  be  suspected  of  strong  afiinity  with  the  views  of  the  | 

Obcrliii  divines  ?  | 

"\Vc  sludl  be  liajjpy  to  learn  that  tlicse  wise  and  good  men  are  j 

urgin;;  all  their  brethren  on  to  the  high  mark  of  entire  sanctification,  I 

ami  that  their  eftbrts  ai-e  producing  their  appropriate  effect.  % 

Tliore  is,  indeed,  one  light  in  which  the  concession  of  the  attain-  | 

ablrncss  of  a  state  of  entire  holiness  is  truly  important.     It  will  '| 

iKitarally  enough  be   concluded,   tliat  what  is   attainable  may  be  | 

attained — yea,  has  been,  and  ivill  again  be  attained.     And  so  the  | 

paralyzing  influence  of  the  doctrine  of  the  7ieccssary  continuance  | 

of  indwelling  sin  will  be  destroyed.    Indeed,  now  that  the  opposers  s 

of  the  doctrine  of  Christian  perfection  are  admitting  its  attainable-  \ 

iicss,  they  will  find  it  rather  difficult  long  to  hang  upon  the  simple  \ 

denial  of  the  fact.  | 

Mr.  Mahan's  opjjonents  say,  "  the  question  between  us  is  simpl)'-  | 

one  of  fact."     Though  this  is  not  conceded  by  Mr.  M.  to  be  "the  | 

question"  of  difference,  and,  as  we  have  before  said,  has  never  been  | 

considered  the  main  question  between  those  who  assert  and  those  -. 

who  deny  the  doctrine  of  Clirislian  perfection,  yet  in  consequence  of  | 

its  bearing  upon  that  question,  it  has  generally  been  mooted  in  the  | 

controversy.     And  now  after  conceding  that  the  doctrine  of  entire  | 

sanctification  is  taught  in  the  Bible,  and  that  the  state  is  attainable  j 

in  the  present  life,  how  can  any  prove  that  there  ai-e  no  instances  | 

of  this  state  among  men  ?    How  can  they  know  that  there  is  no  | 

existing  fact  corresponding  with  and  practically  carrying  out  the  | 

doctrine  ?    If  they  have  this  knowledge,  it  must  be  the  result  of  | 

a  universal  knowledge  of  mankind — they  must  "  Icnow  all  men,  and  | 

know  what  is  in  man,"— or  it  must  be  the  result  of  a  perfect  know-  | 

ledge  of  the  nature  of  things — they  must  loiow  a  priori  that  this  | 

jjcrfection  is  not  ]ircdicable  of  man  in  his  present  state — that  the  ? 
thing  is  impossible;  or  their  knowledge  must  rest  upon  a  specific 
revelation  of  the  fact  that  none  ever  was  or  ever  will  be  thus  per- 
fect. No  claim,  it  is  presumed,  will  be  set  up  to  cither  species 
of  evidence  above  named,  except  the  last.  The  question,  then,  to 
be  settled  is,  whether  God  has  revealed  in  his  word  the  fact  that 
no  man  ever  did  or  ever  wdll  attain  to  the  state  in  question. 

P'<it  even  if  we  should  find  this  fact  clearly  revealed,  we  arc  not 
quite  clear  of  embaiTassment.  We  have  the  anomaly  to  account 
for,  of  a  [)rinciple  or  doctrine  without  a  corresponding  fact.     \V  e 


318  Christian  Perfection.  [April, 

think  it  will  be  found  upon  the  most  careful  examination,  that  all 
the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  relating  to  the  improvement  of  man's 
moral  character,  have  corresponding  facts  illustrative  of  their  nature 
and  practical  tendency.  The  doctrine  of  repentance  is  exemplified 
in  the  life  and  conduct  of  the  true  penitent;  the  doctiine  oi  faith, 
in  the  believer ;  that  of  jtistficulion  in  the  justified ;  regeneratiori 
in  the  regenerated,  &c.  But,  according  to  the  views  we  oppose, 
here  is  the  doctrine  of  perfect  holiness  without  any  perfectly  hohj 
individuals  to  cxcmi)lify  the  doctrine.  Wc  do  indeed  read  in  the 
Bible  of  saints,  or  lioly  ones,  persons  sanctified.,  perfect,  &c.,  but 
as  the  "  fact"  of  the  existence  of  an  individual  cjitirely  holy  must 
not  be  admitted,  the  aids  of  criticism  and  logic  are  called  in  to 
deprive  these  terms  of  their  legitimate  meaning. 

A  specimen  of  the  Scripture  argument  upon  this  point  may  not 
be  inappropriate  in  this  place. 

1 .  To  say  nothing  of  Enoch,  Elijah,  Daniel,  and  others  who 
are  represented,  as  far  as  we  recollect,  as  without  offense,  we  pre- 
mise that  men  of  this  class  are  recognized  by  the  sacred  writers 
as  living  upon  earth.  The  psalmist  says,  "Blessed  are  the  tinde- 
fdcd  in  tlie  way,  ("-.--"■'p^ipn  perfect  of  the  way,)  who  walk  in  the 
law  of  the  Lord,"  Tsa.  rxix,  1.  Again  he  says,  "He  that  walkclh 
in  a  perfect  way,  he  shall  serve  me,"  Psa.  ci,  6.  And  Solomon 
says,  "  The  upright  shall  dwell  in  the  land,  and  the  perfect  shall 
remain  in  it,"  Prov.  ii,  21.  Our  Saviour  says,  "Blessed  are  the 
pure  in  heart,  for  they  sliall  see  God,"  Matt,  v,  8.  Professor 
Robinson  interprets  ol  KaOcjiol  7»;  Kapcha,  pure  in  heart ;  "  sincere, 
upright,  void  of  evil."  (See  Lexicon.)  And  Parhhv.rst,  "  clean, 
pure,  in  a  spiritual  sense,  from  the  pollution  and  guilt  of  sin."  (See 
Lexicon.)  After  giving  these  few  examples  under  this  head,  we  | 
must  pass                                                                                                       -  j 

2.  To  such  passages  as  speak  of  a  state  of  sanclification  as  pre- 
paratory- to  duties  which  arc  appropriate  to  the  present  state  of 
being.  The  psalmist  prays,  "  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God,  and 
renew  a  right  spirit  within  me,"  P.<a.  li,  10;  and  adds  in  the  13th 
verse,  "  Then  will  1  teach  transgressors  thy  ways ;  and  sinners 
shall  be  converted  unto  thee."  From  this  it  seems  evident  that 
the  psalmist  must  have  thought  of  living  to  do  good  in  the  world, 
after  he  should  have  "  a  clean  heart  and  a  right  spirit." 

And  the  prophet  Ezekiel  says  in  God's  name,  "  Then  will  I 


IKl).]  Christian  Perfection.  319 

sjirinklc  clean  water  upon  you,  and  yc  sliall  be  clean,"  i^c. ;  "  And 
cause  you  to  walk  in  my  statutes,  and  ye  sliall  keep  my  judgments, 
and  do  tlirni,"  Ex.ck.  xxxvi,  25-27. 

Si.  Peler  represents  our  election  to  be  "through  sand ifical ion  of 
die  Spirit  nntd  ohcJifiice"  1  Pet.  i,  2,  "  £(V  iira/co;/;' ;  i.  c.,  in  order 
lli.ii  iliry  should  obey  the  gospel." — Dr.  Bloomfieid.  {Sec  Greek 
'J\\sf':meiit,  zcitk  English  notes,  in  loc.)  In  all  these  cases,  and 
many  otlicrs  which  might  be  quoted,  sanctification  is  represented 
as  a  cjualification  for  the  great  duties  which  are  to  be  done  in  the 
present  world,  and,  consequently,  cannot  be  understood  as  only  to 
be  attained  at  death. 

H.  Particular  instances  of  this  state  of  holiness  mentioned  in  the 
Scriptures.  Some  of  these  are  declared  by  the  sacred  writers  to 
have  been  blameless,  perfect,  upright,  &c.  Among  these  are 
Zcchariah  and  Elizabeth ;  others  profess  to  have  attained  to  the 
.^late  indicated  by  these  qualifying  terms.  Among  these  wc  would 
mi-ntion  the  great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  But  we  cannot  here  go 
iii!o  t!ic  evidence. 

•4.  Passages  which  imply  gross  absurdity,  upon  the  supposition 
that  none  are  sanctified  until  death.  St.  Paul  prays  that  his  bre- 
thren of  the  clnircli  of  Thessalonica  may  be  sanctified  loholhj. 
Now  docs  he  pray  that  they  may  speedily  be  removed  from  the 
world  \  Our  blessed  .Saviour  prayed  that  his  disciples  might  be 
sanctified  :  "  Sanctify  them  through  thy  truth,"  John  xvii,  17.  Did 
he  pray  that  they  might  be  removed  hence  ?  This  could  not  be, 
fcr  he  had  just  said,  verse  15,  "  I  pray  not  that  thou  shouldst  take 
tlicrn  out  of  the  world,  but  tliat  thou  shouldst  kec])  them  from 
the  evil." 

The  entire  argument  of  Dr.  Woods  is  not  a  vciy  specious 
soj'hism  of  the  class  called  Ignoratio  Elenchi,  a  misapprehension 
ff  the  question.  And  whether,  from  the  light  he  has  shed  upon 
the  subject,  Mr.  JI.  and  his  friends  will  "  feel  themselves  bound 
in  truth  to  abstain  from  any  further  attempt  to  uphold  their  scheme 
by  the  arguments  which"  he  has  "  noticed,"  remains  to  be  seen. 
I  hey  may  be  sorry  indeed  that  Dr.  W.  should  be  so  "  gixatly 
disappointed"  as  to  the  success  of  his  argument,  but  we  fondly 
ln.pc  ijic  glorj'  of  God,  and  the  proper  elevation  of  the  church,  arc 
with  tlicin  objects  of  paramoimt  importance. 

Frhnuuy  10,  1S41. 


Critical  Notices.  [April, 


Art.  YIII.-CRITICAL   NOTICES. 

1.    The   School   District    LiliTary.      Thml   Serits.     New-York,   1810. 
Harper  and  Brothers.    60  vols.  ISino. 

The  publishers  of  those  scries  arc,  beyond  doubt,  rendering  a  very 
important  service  to  tlio  community.  The  cause  of  school  district 
libraries  is  identified  with  the  best  interests  of  the  people  ;  and  there 
is  no  way  in  which  it  can  be  eflectually  sustained  but  by  successive 
publications,  in  a  collective  form,  pf  cheap  and  good  books.  We  are 
happy  to  perceive  that  the  Messrs.  Harpers  continue  rightly  to  appre- 
ciate the  obligations  they  have  assumed  in  this  matter ;  their  third 
scries  is  an  admirable  one,  in  all  respects  worthy  of  being  placed  by 
the  side  of  those  which  have  preceded  it ;  and  this,  as  far  as  our 
knowledge  extends,  is,  without  any  exception,  the  judgment  both  of 
the  public  and  the  press.  The  number  of  original  works  in  this  series 
is  greater  than  in  cither  of  the  former,  and  we  notice  among  their 
authors  the  names  of  some  of  our  best  writers  and  most  distinguished 
scholars :  AVashington  Irving,  Dr.  Nott,  Professor  Renwick,  Dr.  Pot- 
ter, l^rofessor  Upham,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  &c.  Halleck  and  Bryant  have 
also  contributed  tliree  beautiful  volumes,  consisting  of  selections  from 
the  British  and  American  poets.  The  subjects  treated  of  are  exceed- 
ingly well  chosen,  and  embrace  the  most  interesting  departments  of 
usefid  knowledge.  It  woidd  be  difficult,  we  think,  to  find  in  any  other 
collection  of  the  same  compass  so  great  an  amount  of  varied  informa- 
tion. "While  every  thing  of  a  sectarian  nature  has  verj'  properly  been 
excluded,  we  are  glad  to  see  that  there  is  a  due  proportion  of  valuable 
religious  matter  in  the  present  series — such  as  Counsels  to  Young 
Men,  by  Dr.  Nott ;  Portions  of  the  Family  Instructor,  of  Professor 
Sedgwick's  admirable  Discourse  on  Study,  and  of  Dr.  Johnson's  ini- 
mitable Moral  Essays.  In  one  respect  the  volumes  in  this  collection 
are  worthy  of  all  commend.ition  ;  they  are  thoroughly  pure  in  language 
and  in  sentiment,  a  circumstance  of  vital  importance  in  books  intended 
for  sueh_  an  object.  There  are  several  works,  both  original  and  se- 
lected, which  on  account  of  their  .striking  merit  we  should  like  par- 
ticularly to  notice ;  but,  as  our  space  is  limited,  and  we  arc  desirous 
to  say  something  in  relation  to  the  great  importance,  &c.,  of  the  library 
system  as  established  in  this  state,  as  a  means  of  diflusing  usefiU 
knowledge  among  the  people,  or,  in  other  words,  of  educating  the 
entire  ntind  of  the  community,  we  must  content  oiurselves  M'ith  this 
general  expression  of  opinion. 

It  is  now  about  six  years  since  the  subject  of  scliool  district  libraries 


IS  11.]  Ciitica!  Notices.  321 

first  aitractcJ  the  attention  of  a  few  inJividuals  among  us,  deeply  inte- 
risHMl  ill  luiievolcnt  designs,  and  especially  in  the  improvement  of  our 
fivsleni  of  popidar  education.  They  hoped,  by  the  establishment  of 
those  lilirariis,  to  a\vakcn  a  spirit  of  inquiry  and  desire  of  imj)rovc- 
nieiil  ainoii"  our  youth,  that  wotdd  lead  them  to  habits  of  self-cultiva- 
tion, and,  at  t!ie  same  time,  were  persuaded  that  no  method  so  eflectual  ; 
cmiKl  be  denscd  for  the  spread  of  useful  information,  and  the  enlighl-  J 
eiiinijit  of  all  classes  in  the  community.  These  views  they  presented  to  - 
ilio  legislature  of  the  state  of  New- York,  and  in  the  spring  of  183o  an 
act  was  passed,  authorizing  the  inliabitants  of  any  school  district  to 
raise  b)-  tax  the  smii  of  twenty  dollars  the  first  year,  and  ten  dollars  in 
any  subsequent  year,  to  be  applied  to  the  purchase  of  books  for  a  dis-  \ 
irict  library.  Tliis  act,  however,  being  simply  permissive,  while  tlic  I 
subject  itself  was  entirely  new,  attracted  but  little  attention,  and  only  | 
a  very  small  number  of  districts  availed  themselves  of  its  provisions.  I 
Still,  the  friends  of  the  measure  were  not  discouraged.  They  again  | 
])ri  hscd  it  upon  the  notice  of  the  legisLature  with  renewed  earnestness  ;  \ 
and,  in  Ajiril,  1S38,  that  body,  in  a  spirit  of  enlightened  liberality  \ 
worthy  of  .'ill  praise,  appropriated  from  the  income  of  the  United  Stales  | 
dcjiosite  fund  (the  whole  of  which  had  been  nobly  set  apart  for  purposes  | 
of  education)  the  sum  of  fifty-five  thousand  dollars  annually  for  three  \ 
years,  to  be  apportioned  among  the  school  districts  according  to  the  i 
miinber  of  cliildren  between  the  ages  of  five  and  sixteen  that  they  were  | 
respectively  reported  to  contain,  with  the  condition,  that  it  should  be  1 
e.\pi'iidcd  by  them  within  the  year,  in  the  purchase  of  books  for  a  dis-  | 
trict  library  ;  directing,  at  the  same  time,  that  an  equal  amount  should  | 
be  raised  by  a  tax  on  the  people  at  large,  making  together  the  sum  of  I 
one  htatdred  and  ten  thousand  dollars,  to  be  applied  annually,  for  the  I 
jicriod  before  named,  to  this  object.  Tliis  period  was  extended,  in  the  | 
following  session,  from  three  years  to  five ;  after  which,  as  the  law  | 
now  stands, jliough  the  same  amount  will  continue  to  be  distrilnited,  | 
the  inliabitants  of  the  districts  will  be  at  liberty  to  employ  the  money  ! 
.so  received,  cither  for  the  maintenance  of  a  librarj-  or  the  payment  of  j 
l-acher.s'  wages,  at  their  discretion.  We  cannot  doubt,  however,  so  i 
thoroughly  convinced  arc  the  community  at  large  of  tlie  importance  of  | 
perpetuating  lite  s)-stem  so  happily  commenced,  and  of  giving  to  it  the 
fullest  development,  that  the  latter  period  will  be  further  extended,  or, 
what  is  perhaps  still  more  probable,  that  the  discretionaiy  clause  will 
be  ciiiirfly  withdrawn,  leaving  it  mandator)-  on  the  districts,  without 
any  limitation  of  time,  to  expend  the  money  for  the  .support  of  a  library-, 
snd  fur  nolliins;  else. 

1  ho  lirst  distribution  of  library  money  was  made  in  the  spring  of 


322  Critical  Notices.  [April, 

1S39.  In  Ills  report,  presented  to  the  legislature  tlie  follo%ving  spring, 
the  superintendent  states,  that  over  six  thousand  districts  had  provided 
themselves  with  libraries,  comprising  in  all  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  volumes.  But  as  this  was  only  the  first  starting  of  a 
new  and  widely  extended  system,  the  returns  had  necessarily  been 
vcr}'  imperfect,  and  the  number  of  districts  that  had  actually  purchased 
libraries  was  prolwbly  over  seven  thousand,  and  the  whole  number  of 
volunirs  not  less  th:ai  three  hundred  thousand.  The  number  of  eflicient 
school  districts  in  the  state  may  be  set  down  at  about  ten  thousand, 
and  the  delinquency  of  the  remaining  three  thousand  districts,  supposed 
to  have  been  without  libraries,  had  been  owing,  we  may  presume,  in 
most  cases,  cither  to  the  remoteness  of  their  situation,  or  the  smallness 
of  the  sum  received  by  them,  or  the  v.-ant  of  proper  knowledge  how  to 
proceed.  The  superintendent  not  having  yet  presented  his  report  for 
the  last  year,  we  can  only  refer  to  the  governor's  message,  recently 
delivered,  for  information  as  to  the  progress  of  the  cause  up  to  the 
present  period.  In  tliis  he  says,  "  There  arc  very  few  districts  wliich 
hare  not  complied  with  the  act  providing  for  the  establishment  of 
school  district  libraries,  and  there  are  at  tills  time  in  these  various  dis- 
trict libraries  about  one  million  of  volumes.  These  libraries  generally 
include  liistor}'  and  biograpliy,  voyages  and  travels,  works  on.  natural 
hi.'story  and  the  physical  sciences,  treatises  upon  agriculture,  commerce, 
manufactures-,  and  the  arts,  and  judicious  selections  from  modern  litera- 
ture." Thus  in  tluj  two  first  years  of  the  experiment,  two  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  dollars  have  been  distributed,  not  far  from  a  mil- 
lion volumes,  with  few  exceptions,  of  good  and  useful  books  have  been 
procured,  and  are  scattering  light  and  knowledge  over  every  portion 
of  the  state,  and  nearly  all  our  school  districts  are  furnished  with 
libraries. 

These,  it  must  be  admitted,  we  think,  are  highly  gratifying  results, 
and  full  of  ]iromise  for  the  future.  We  congratulate,  therefore,  the 
early  and  untiring  friends  of  this  measure,  on  the  signal  success  that 
has  crowned  their  cilbrts,  and  the  community  at  large,  who  have  so 
honorably  sustained  it,  and  who  will  not  fail  to  reap  its  rich  benefits. 
Of  their  own  noble  .state,  that  leads  the  way  in  this  great  and  good 
work,  its  citizens  may  feel  more  justly  proud  ;  and  wc  would  say  to 
ever)-  state  in  our  glorious  Union,  "  Go,  and  do  thou  likewise" — that  i 

throughout  all  our  borders  there  maybe  established  the  united  influence 
of  intelligence  and  virtue. 


1  SI  1 J  Critical  Notices. 


2.  O.rforJ  Divinity  compared  with  thai  of  the  Romish  and  Anglican 
C.lnirrlirs :  with  a  special  View  to  the  Illustration  of  the  Doctrine  of 
Jusltfication  by  Faith,  as  it  ivas  made  of  primary  Importance  by  the 
Rrfiirmcrs ;  and  as  it  lies  as  the  Foundation  of  all  Scriptural  Vicir.';  of 
the  Gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  By  the  Right  Rev.  Charlts 
Pi:rTiT  M'Ilvaine,  D.  D.,  Bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episoo;i:il 
Church  in  the  diocese  of  Ohio.  8vo.,  pp.  6-16.  Philadelphm : 
Joseph  Whcaton  &  Son.  1841. 

The  doctrines  of  the  Oxford  divines,  as  set  forth  in  the  cclehralcJ 
Tracts  for  the  Times,  and  other  publications,  have  been  considered  by 
many,  both  Protestants  and  Komanists,  as  a  departure  from  the  true 
doci'rines  of  the  Reformation,  and  a  virtual  return  to  those  of  popery. 
In  two  Catholic  discourses  upon  the  rale  of  faith,  which  we  heard 
last  May  in  Baltimore,  one  of  them  from  the  celebrated  Bishop  En^^r- 
land,  these  divines  were  quoted  in  proof  of  several  di.sting-uishing  doc- 
trines of  the  Romish  Church.  And,  in  our  view  at  least,  the  authnritii's 
were  pertinent  to  the  purposes  for  which  they  were  employed. 

P.ishop  M'Ilvaine  has  conclusively  pj-ouo/,  in  the  work  whusc  title 
is  given  above,  the  identity  of  Orfordism  and  Roma?iism.  His  di>^cus- 
sion  is  wholly  theological,  and  he  directs  his  attention  to  one  great 
and  leading  doctrine,  viz.,  "justification  by  fahh."  This  doctrine  is  by 
these  divines  confounded  with  sanctification,  and  so  rendered  entirely 
nugatory.  They  assert  the  "  real  identity,  in  matter  of  fact,  bctwt;en 
sanctification  and  justification,"  and  allege  that  "  justification  and  re- 
newal" are  "  convertible  terms."  Justification  is  represented  as  "  coming 
to  us  through  our  sanctified  wills  and  doings." 

But  their  notions  of  sanctification  itself  are  equally  crude  and  anti- 
scriptural.  They  hold  to  "  baptismal  regeneration,"  i.  e.,  that  the  soul 
is  really  renewed  by  this  external  ordinance.     So  according  to  this  | 

thoon,-,  baptism  is  the  grand  instrumental  cause  of  human  salvation  in  \ 

all  il.s  parts  !    These  doctrines  the  bishop  proves  to  be  fundamental  \\\  | 

the    Romi.sh   theology    and    wholly    antiprotcstant.     Numerous  other  i 

developments  of  the  peculiar  dogmas  of  Rome,  growing  out  of  these  j 

capital  errors,  are  detected  by  the  !>ishop.  I 

Jt  has  sotnetimes  been  said,  "A  great  book  is  a   great  o\il."     Ac-  < 

cordinir  to  this  maxim,  many  will  be  disposed  to  find  fault  with  the  i 

work  before  us.     Perhaps  for  popular  elVect  the  author  might  in  many  j 

places  liave  condensed  to  advantage  ;  but,  for  our  part,  we  read  the  < 

book  without  weariness  to  the  very  close.     The  quotations  from  the  j 

reformers  are  fvdl  and  pertinent,  and  refiect  much  light  upon  their 
theology.  Though  we  must  not,  by  tliis  notice,  be  supposed  to  indorse 
all  the  bishop's  views,  yet  in  general  we  consider  him  quite  evangelical ; 
and,  upon  the  whole,  would  most  earnestly  recommend  the  work  to  all 
who  wish  a  clear,  extended,  and  comprehensive  view  of  the  character 
and  tendency  of  Qj^ford  divinity. 

The  mechanical  execution  of  tlie  work  is  truly  creditable  to  the 
publisherB.     They  have  given  this  excellent  work,  of  an  excellent  j 

author,  a  most  beautiful  dress. 


324  Critical  Notices.  [April, 

3.   The  Converf.i  Guide  and  Preacher's  Assistant.     By  Rev.  T.  Merhitt. 

18mo.,  pp.  260.     New-York:  published  by  George  Lane.   18-11. 

This  mnnual,  as  the  title  impurls,  is  especially  designed  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  are  young  in  rcliLci'Mi.  The  directions  and  instructions  which  it 
contains  are  the  fruit  of  inucli  tliouL'ht  and  deep  experience  in  the  things  of 
God.  It  criii.'-tilulcs  a  com-isc  bndy  of  practical  divinity,  and  cannot  fiil  to  bo 
ciainently  i'  i':'  ^  .  !  '  ';  '  ilio  convert,  be  he  young  or  o!J  in  years,  to  a  right 
understaiuhii.  :     ,.   and  the  means  of  defense  against  the  numerous 

snares  wli;.;i  ,!  '  ii  his  feet.  It  will  be  found  an  cfi'ectivc  "  assistant" 
to  the  faitli:Vl  j  H  i.,  i  iiiii;  tlie  lambs  of  the  Jioch  with  the  ''■  sincere  milk 
of  the  word,  that  tliey  may  grow  thereby." 


-1.    The  Weslcynii  Student;   or,  ^fcmoirs  of  Aaron  Hayncs  Hurd,   late   a 
Memlicr   of  'the    ^yeslc)/an    University,   liliddtetown,    Conn.     By   Joskpu 
HoLDicHjA.  M.    ISino.,  pp.  263.   New-York  :  published  by  G.  Lane.  1641. 
AVhk.s  a  young  man  worlcs  his  way  through  numerous  difficulties  to  emi- 
nence as  a  siudetit,  and  by  exxessive  application  fritters  away  the  wheels  of 
life  before  he  cninphno";  his  collegiate  course,  we  naturally  inquire.  To  what 
purpose  is  ll  ■-  w  ,    ■    >■(    ir,  i,   il,   "id  talent,  in  the  mere  work  of  preparation 
for  a  ee;ir-     '  "  ,      :   '  \  :     ',   i~.  never  realized?    The  interesting  little 

volume  b>  fc:.  .     !       ._        ii.;i.     We  here  have  a  messenger  of  God, 

if  you  jilen-'  ,  :i   ;.,. . ;    '■'/  ■/,  ■  i.M  of  the  woods  of  Canada  into  our  higher 

iiti  r.iry  in-lilutieus  to  do  ius  Master's  work.  That  work  was  iccH  rfo;ic,  and 
the  fruit  will  long  remain.  We  have  not  space  adequately  to  describe  this  ex- 
cellent Mcmnirofan  CNcellcnt  and  most  prondsing  young  man.  But  we  would 
iMOi>t  earnestly  recommend  it  In  the  attention  of  all  who  wanf  a  rich  repast — a 
feast  of  rational  f  ritertainment  and  of  f-piritual  instruction.  Especially  would 
wc  commend  it  to  the  young,  and  mure  especially  to  students,  and  still  more 
cspeciallt/  to  tlio?e  who  have  at  any  tim.e  sustained  the  relation  of  a  student  in 
the  Oneida  Conferei]cc  .Seminary,  or  the  Wesleyan  University.  To  such  it 
will  have  a  peculiar  charm. 


5.    The   Oldicalions,    Subjects,   and   Mode   of  Baptism.     By   Rev.   Henry  l 

Slicer.     i6mo.,  pp.  202.     Ncw-Y'ork  :  published  by  G.  Lane.   1841.  1 

This  work  is  upon  a  subject  which  has  been  discussed  on  both  sides  by  I 

many  able  and  learned  divines,  and  yet  there  seems  little  prospect  of  a  termi-  | 

nation  of  tlie  coutrover-^y.     The  author  treats  the  subject  as  a  controversialist ;  ! 

and  brinjinsj  his  antnuonist  to  the  test  of  Scripture  and  argument,  he  exhibits  } 

in  a  clear  and  strong  light  the  weak  points  of  his  theory.    Though  perhaps  we  i 

ought  to  say.  his  touches  arc  .sometimes  too  caustic,  yet  our  author  has,  doubtless,  | 

shed  much  light  upon  this  truly  vexed  question,  for  which  the  public  ought  to  J 

be  grateful.  1 

Mr.  BnowN:.oN  complains  that  iiiiustice  is  done  him  in  our  .Tanuary  number,  t 

in  making  liini  oppose  "  the  institution  of  marriage,"  whereas  he  only  denies  it  j 

lo  be  "a  reh/i"".,  institution — a  sacrament,  rather  than  a  civil  contract."     We  1 

are  happy  to  Irani  that  Mr.  B.  does  not  maintain  what  our  correspondent  con-  ; 

aiders  the  leL-iiiinaie  consequences  of  his  jiositions  ;  but  would  be  still  better  3 

pleased,  should  he  see  i)roi.er  explicitly  lo  retract  liis  language  on  that  subject.  • 

Wc  have  not  room  for  ,Mr.  13. 's  letter,  or  wc  woidd  insert  it  entire,  though  it  is  | 

tjuitc  loo  small  a  covering  to  liide  the  absiuditics  of  his  system.  3 


;rf;aw|w;jiW'!«jyW:.jiV.!ij:y:.'»{';M.it^^^^^^ 


2~.*S:: 


I  I 


>  ■^^^fiM»?;.<Mgfey^ 


■jg  £ifS&isis§,mi!Mi^>i^^Mi^mm^Mi^^ 


y-c^b 


THE 

METHODIST  QUARTERLY  REVIEW 

JULY,  1311. 


EDITED    BY   GEORGE   PECK,   D.  D. 


Art.  I. — Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  MojrcU, 

OF  THE    NEW-JERSEY  COXi'EREN'CE. 

''The  fathers!  where  arc  tliey?"  is  an  exclaninlion  \vc  are 
wont  lo  repeat  when  tlie  reminiscences  of  bj'-gonc  days  come  up 
in  seasons  of  sohlude  and  meditation.  Especially  in  our  '•'  relii^ious 
hours"  of  conlemplation,  docs  the  memory  of  the  past  inspire  us 
^vitll  vivid  and  distinct  impressions  of  the  venerable  dead,  from 
Avhosc  lips  we  used  to  hear  the  lessons  of  heavenly  wisdom,  in  the 
days  of  our  childliood  and  youtli.  Nor  can  we  divest  ourselves  of 
an  indefinably  sad  and  melancholy  train  of  reflections,  ^vhen  their 
names,  their  countenances,  and  even  the  tones  of  their  voice,  recur 
to  us  with  all  the  freshness  of  reality,  stealing  over  the  senses 
during  our  waking  Lours,  or  mingling  in  our  slumbers  diu-ing  the 
visions  of  the  night. 

Hence  it  is  that  most  readers  find  ailraclion  and  cveii  fascination 
in  those  biographies  and  memoirs  of  the  venerable  dead,  which 
record  events,  incidents,  and  circumstances  of  men  and  things, 
liiat  are  associated  with  their  own  earliest  recollections.  And  . 
cspeciaily  is  this  the  case,  when  the  subject  of  such  biography  or 
memoir  was  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  whom  we  were  taught  to 
love  and  venerate,  in  his  sacred  office,  at  a  time  when  our  young 
hearts  were  unsophisticated  by  skepticism  or  misanthropy,  and 
when  whh  childlike  simplicity,  and  happy  innocence,  with  our 
br'ioved  parents,  we  sat  at  his  feet,  and  rejoiced  to  share  in  his 
Counsels  and  in  his  prayers.  As  our  fathers,  we  honor  the  names 
and  memory  of  such,  as  we  do  our  earthly  parents,  whom  wc  love 
next  to  oiir  Father  in  heaven ;  and  peculiarly  is  this  the  case  when 

Vol.  I.-21 


32G  Memoir  vf  the  Rev.  Thomas  Morrcll.  [July, 

they  can  truly  adopt  toward  us  the  language  of  the  apostle,  and 
"  though  they  be  dead  yet  speak"  to  us,  and  say,  "  Though  ye  have 
ten  thousand  instructors  in  Christ,  yet  have  yc  not  many  fathers ; 
for  in  Christ  Jesus  I  liavc  begotten  you  through  the  gospel." 

Among  the  sons  of  Wesley  in  Eiu-opc  and  America,  and  among 
the  children  of  Methodists  everywhere,  these  sentiments  will  find 
a  ready  response  and  ample  illustration.  The  name  of  Wesley 
lias  an  inconceivable  charm  to  the  children  and  children's  children 
of  those  who  were  tlie  direct  fruits  of  his  ministry,  and  will  con- 
tinue "  blessing  and  being  blessed"  to  the  latest  generation.  His 
son  in  the  gospel,  and  our  American  apostle,  Francis  Asbury,  ac- 
quired in  our  country  an  influence  and  authority  only  second  to 
Mr.  Wesley,  and  which  he  justly  merited,  by  his  labors  and  his 
successes,  his  zeal  and  his  usefulness.  And  such  is  the  affection- 
ate and  fervent  attachment  felt  by  the  present  generation  of  Ame- 
rican Meliiodists  to  the  name  and  memoiy  of  Bishop  Asbun,-,  iliat 
all  who  were  his  colleagues,  fellow  laborers,  and  helpers  in  the 
gospel,  or  identified  with  him  in  any  capacity,  however  subordi- 
nate, have  come  to  be  regarded  by  such,  as  v.'orthy  to  be  held  in 
everlasting  remembrance.  And  as  the  number  of  these  worthies 
is  now  but  few,  and  these  arc  rapidly  taken  to  their  reward,  it  is 
fit  that  we  should  pause  beside  their  opening  graves,  drop  a  tear 
over  tlieir  remains,  and  record  a  tribute  to  their  pielv  and  worth, 
as  they  pass  away,  one  by  one,  from  among  us.  Soon  all  who 
labored  and  suffered  with  our  Asbury,  as  his  sons  in  the  gospel, 
will  have  gone  the  way  of  all  the  earth,  their  record  will  be  on  high, 
and  their  reward  in  licavcn. 

Such  arc  the  reflections  which  spontaneously  suggest  themselves 
to  the  writer  of  this  brief  memorial,  while  he  inscribes  on  the  tablet 
which  bears  the  names  of  the  "  blessed  dead,"  another  of  our  fathers 
in  the  ministry,  who  has  fallen  asleep  in  Jesus,  and  now  "rests 
from  his  labors  where  his  works  do  follow  him." 

Thomas  Jlorrcll  was  bom  in  New-York  on  the  22d  of  November, 
1747,  and  his  mother  was  one  of  the  few  who  were  formed  into  a 
class  by  Piiilip  Enibun,'  in  the  year  17C6,  and  consequently  was 
among  the  first  ^Icthodists  in  America.  She  lived  until  the  year 
179G,  when  her  son  made  the  following  record  in  his  journal,  dated 
July  30th  :— 

"This  day  my  dear,  my  aged,  and  my  honored  mother  fell 


isll.]  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Thomus  MorrcU.  327 

asloop  in  Jcsiis.  Blessed  be  God  for  such  a  motlicr !  so  pious, 
so  tiMuicr,  so  aflectionatc  to  mc  and  lo  all.  She  was  indeed  a 
inolhcr  to  l!ic  preachers,  and  a  mother  in  Israel,  having  been  a 
('lirisii:iii  lliirty-six  years.  I  mourn  only  as  one  tliat  has  hope, 
M\d  iiiurniur  not.  TJiis  day,  while  she  is  a  corpse  in  the  house,  I 
do  afresh  dedicate  myself  to  God,  and  humbly  hope  through  mercy 
and  grace,  lo  persevere  to  the  end,  and  meet  my  dear  mother  in 
glory.     God  grant  it  for  Christ's  sake.     Amen." 

By  ihn  same  journal  it  appears  that  his  father  also  died,  in 
grral  pence,  in  liis  house  at  Elizabethtown,  September  2G,  1S05, 
at  the  age  of  eighty,  having  been  a  devoted  Christian  for  more 
than  forty  years.  The  event  is  recorded  in  tlie  same  sjjirit, 
and  with  the  same  pious  emotions  as  is  the  death  of  liis  moliicr 
just  mentioned,  and  he  hero  adds,  "  I  am  now  the  last  that  is  left 
of  the  main  branches  of  the  family,  having  lost  my  mother,  my  two 
liroihers,  my  only  sister,  my  two  daughters,  latel}'-  my  only  child, 
and  now  my  aged  father.  .Death  upon  death !  0  to  know,  to 
value,  and  to  redeem  my  time  in  a  suitable  manner  1  Lord,  sanctify 
this  fresh  stroke  of  thy  providence  to  me  and  my  wife'!  May  we 
be  devoted  to  God,  and  ready  to  follow  those  who  have  gone 
before  us  !" 

These  extracts  will  serve  to  show  the  character  of  those  pious 
parents,  whose  loss  was  thus  registered  by  filial  affection.  To 
the  prayers  and  example  of  his  modicr,  especially,  this  son  was 
doubtless  greatly  indebted.  In  1772  the  family  removed  from 
New-York  to  Elizabclhlown,  New-Jersey,  and  there  being  no 
Melhudist  society  there,  his  parents  attached  themselves  to  the 
I'risbyteri-jn  Church.  In  the  year  17S5  the  Rev.  John  Ilagerly, 
a  name  familiar  to  many  on  earth  and  in  heaven,  was  sent  by  Bishop 
A.-!i!iry  to  "  Newark  circuit,"  which  at  that  time  included  a  large 
jioriion  of  New- Jersey.  He  was  the  first  Methodist  preacher  sent 
lo  this  circuit,  and  on  arriving  at  Elizabethtown  he  was  directed  to 
the  iiousc  of  the  parents  of  Thomas  Morrell,  and  being  kindly 
entertained  there,  where  he  preached  his  first  sermon,  the  found- 
ation of  the  society  was  then  laid,  which  has  continued  to  this 
'I'ly.  Under  this  sermon  Thomas  Morrell  was  awakened,  lie 
V"'ing  then  thirty-eight  years  of  age.  The  following  brief  record 
made  in  Ins  journal  in  1832,  nearly  fifty  years  afterward,  cor- 
rcsjionds    with    one    made    at   the   time,    or   soon    after,    in    the 


323  JMcmoi?-  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Morrell.  [July, 

journal  which  is  still  presoivixl,  and  ccrlainlj-  deseiTCS  a  jjkce 
here  : — 

"I  was  born  in  New-York  on  the  22d  of  November,  17-17; 
moved  to  Elizabethtown  in  1772;  lived  a  gay  and  thoughtless  life 
generally,  lliough  I  hud  often  convictions  until  I  was  awakened  in 
1765,  inidcr  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  John  Hagerty,  the  first 
Jlcihodist  preacher  I  had  over  heard,  and  under  his  first  sermon  in 
Elizabethtowii.  I  found  the  Lord  early  in  that  year,  and  in  three 
months  afterward  began  to  preach  by  direction  of  Mv.  Hagerty ; 
and  Robert  Cloud  coming  in  the  fall  of  that  year  to  form  a  circuit, 
extended  his  preaching  to  Staten  Island,  and  a  great  revival  laldng 
place  there,  the  labor  was  too  hard  for  one  preacher,  and  I  was. 
constrained  to  enter  the  traveling  connection,  and  joined  brother 
Cloud.  It  was  then  called  the  Elizabethtown  circuit.  Here  I 
preached  twenty  months,  and  was  then  ordained  a  deacon,  and 
stationed  in  Trei;lon  circuit  in  1787.  In  17SS  I  was  stationed  in 
the  city  of  Ncw-^'ork  with  the  charge,  raid  Robert  Cloud  with  me. 
Here  a  great  revival  broke  out  in  February,  17S9,  and  in  this  year 
I  was  ordained  an  elder,  and  continued  in  New^-York  five  years. 
In  1791-95  I  was  stationed  in  Philadelphia;  here  taken  sick,  and 
did  not  recover  fully  till  1799  ;  then  stationed  in  Bahimore  two 
years,  till  ISOl  ;  and  in  1S02-3  stationed  again  in  New- York  two 
years.  This  was  my  last  station  out  of  Elizabethtown,  though  I 
continued  to  preach  for  sixteen  years  as  often  as  when  I  traveled 
more  extensively,  till  the  year  1822,  and  then  preached  mostly  in 
Elizabethtown  every  sabbath,  except  unwell,  and  have  continued  to 
preach  once  eaclr  Sunday  to  the  time  I  am  writing  this  account, 
Januaiy,  1833.  Blessed  be  God  for  health,  and  that  mv  mental 
powers  arc  still  preserved,  so  that  I  can  labor  a  little  for  God  and 
the  salvation  of  my  feilov/  men,  though  now  eighty-five  years  and 
two  months  old.  Through  the  mercy  and  goodness  of  God  I  have 
lived  to  see  the  beginning  of  the  year  1833.  I  hope  to  grow  in 
grace  if  spared." 

The  foregoing  is  a  specimen  of  the  records  which  arc  frequently 
made  in  his  journal,  which  for  neatness  and  accuracy,  as  v>'ell  as 
its  exhibitions  of  fen-ent  piety,  is  worthy  of  being  preserved,  and 
lithographed  for  the  benefit  of  jiostcrily.  Every  anniversary  of  his 
birth,  evcr\'  New- Year's  day,  and  cvcry^  special  religious  season 
was  improved  by  some  new  record  in  his  journal,  some  tribute  of 


IS  11.]  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Morrdl.  329 

^T-alcfiil  Jiicly  toward  God,  and  benevolence  to  men.  Tlie  readers 
(if  this  incuioir  will  be  interested  in  a  few  of  these,  among  the  latest 
of  Ills  life.  They  are  transcribed  from  his  own  manuscript,  witli 
ihf  dates  affixed  by  his  own  hand  ; — 

"Juimun/,  183-1.  Through  the  tender  mercy  of  God  I  have 
been  spared  to  sec  the  beginning  of  another  year,  in  licallh  of  body 
and  of  mind  ;  my  faculties  but  little  impaired ;  my  soul  in  some 
inensurc  engaged  with  God.  I  am  able  generally  to  preach  once 
on  eacli  sabbath  with  my  former  strength  of  mind  and  voice.  To 
God  be  all  the  praise.  My  family  in  tlieir  usual  health;  my  son  on 
Belvidcre  circuit  is  useful  and  acceptable.  I  hope,  if  spared  the 
part  or  the  whole  of  this  year,  to  be  more  holy,  more  engaged,  and 
}nore  useful.     0  Lord,  revive  thy  work  in  Elizabethlown  !" 

"January  1st,  1835.  By  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God  I 
liave  lived  to  see  the  beginning  of  another  year,  and  liave  now 
jn.ssed  my  eighty-seventh  year,  an  unusual  term  of  life,  granted  to 
few.  I  have  been  an  unprofitable  servant,  and  solicit  from  the 
mi.'rcy  of  God  pardon  for  Christ's  sake  of  all  my  errors,  frailties, 
i'.ml  sins,  and  earnestly  desire  to  be  renewed  in  love.  By  the 
influenza  I  have  partially  lost  my  hearing,  but  hope  the  Lord  in 
mercy  will  restore  it  again  ;  if  not,  I  desire  to  be  fully  resigned  to 
God's  will.  Blessed  be  God,  I  have  all  the  comforts  of  life,  mj"- 
family  in  health,  and  all  my  children  and  wife  serving  the  Lord ; 
my  son  remarkably  successful  as  a  jjreacher.  Would  to  God  I 
was  as  thankful,  as  humble,  as  holy,  as  resigned  as  I  ought  to  be  ! 
1  have  not  preached  since  October,  1834,  but  hope  in  a  week  or 
two  to  resume  my  public  labors,  if  the  Lord  please,  and  if  spared 
a  pari  or  the  whole  of  the  pret;cnt  year,  I  hope  to  be  more  holy  and 
useful  than  in  the  past  year." 

During  this  year,  1835,  father  llorrell's  health  only  allowed  him 
to  preach  occasionally,  until  August  9lli,  wdien  he  delivered  his 
last  sermon  in  the  church  at  Elizabcthtown  from  Luke  xvi,  21, 
"  If  they  jiear  not  Moses  and  the  prophets,  neither  would  they  be 
Jicrsuaded  ihougli  one  rose  from  the  dead." 

But  thour^h  his  feeble  health,  and  serious  affection  of  the  tln-oat 
constiaiiied  him  to  desist  from  ]iulpit  labors,  now  that  he  was  nearly 
ciL'hty-ciL'ht  years  of  age,  yet  his  soul  was  still  ardently  engaged  in 
thr  wcrk,  and  whenever  he  was  able,  he  took  his  accustomed  .seat 
in  tlie  h(iu--u  of  God,  and  .still  continued  regidarhj  to  meet  his  class 


330  Memoir  of  ihc  Rev.  Tlwmas  MorreU.  [July, 

weekly.  Ilis  jonnial  was  still  posted  up  as  formerly,  recording  the 
names  of  the  preachers  who  ofliciatcd,  and  ever-)'  important  incident 
connected  with  the  church,  and  especially  every  mstancc  of  awalicn- 
hig,  conversion,  or  revival. 

On  the  22d  day  of  Novenihcr,  1837,  I  find  the  following 
record : — 

"  This  is  my  birth-day,  and  on  this  day  I  am  ninety  years  of 
age,  and  am  a  rare  instance  of  mercy,  long-suffering,  and  patience 
of  my  heavenly  Father,  having  the  use  of  my  mental  powers  as 
well  as  I  had  forty  years  ago,  my  sight  tolerably  good,  my  hearing 
as  good  as  formerly.  An  instance  of  such  advanced  age,  with 
health  of  body  and  strength  of  mind,  demands  my  most  ardent 
thanks,  and  would  to  God  I  was  more  grateful  than  I  am.  I  feel 
devoted  to  the  service  of  my  God,  and  earnestly  desire  to  be  more 
holy,  heavenly  minded,  and  .spiritual ;  my  wife  and  family  arc  in 
health,  and  all  religious,  my  son  a  very  successfid  preacher,  and 
wc  abound  in  earthly  things.  0  to  be  continually  praising  God  ! 
I  meet  my  chsR  lueckly,  and  have  GocVs  blessing  with  us  on  every 
occasion  of  meeting.  Lord,  prepare  rac  and  mine  for  thy  heavenly 
kingdom  !" 

The  last  entry  in  the  journal  was  made  on  the  23d  day  of  April, 
183S,  wj'.en,  after  alluding  to  the  illness  of  himself  and  wife,  from 
which  they  had  then  partially  recovered,  and  a  prayer  that  the 
aflliction  may  be  sanctil'icd  to  his  ]ircparation  for  departure  out  of 
time,  he  mentions  tlic  marriage  of  his  youngest  daughter,  and 
adds,—  * 

"  May  ll.e  Lord  sanctify  lliis  union,  and  may  the  parents,  with 
this  and  my  other  children,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  have  a  happy 
meeting  in  heaven  at  last  to  part  no  more  for  ever  !" 

This  is  the  la.st  sentence  he  was  able  to  write  in  a  journal  kept 
for  more  than  lialf  a  ccntuiy,  wh.ich  begins  and  ends  with  j^rayer. 
From  this  time  his  health  continued  to  decline,  and  in  the  midst  of 
protracted  suflerings,  at  times  severe,  his  mind  was  kept  in  perfect 
peace,  he  continued  to  witness  a  good  confession,  talked  much  of 
lieavcn  and  glory,  the  prospect  of  which  was  without  a  cloud,  spoke 
of  his  conlidencc  in  the  divine  mercy,  through  which  he  exclaimed, 
"I  have  gotten  the  victory  !"  and  in  the  last  conflict  he  was  heard 
to  say  with  his  nxjiiring  whisper,  "  All  is  well,"  and  soon  after, 
wliilc  a  peaceful  smile  v.-as  seen  upon  his  face,  his  happy  sjjirit  was 


ISll.]  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Tltomas  Morrcll.  331 

released  from  its  clay  tenement,  and  father  Morrell  was  at  rest. 
Tilt;  hvgc  asseinlilagc  of  his  friends  who  attended  his  funeral 
solemnities,  (including  the  clergymen  of  all  the  ditfcrent  denomina- 
lioiis  in  the  vicinity,)  and  united  with  his  family  connections  in 
tlieir  lust  tiibiitc  of  respect,  attested  how  many  knew  and  loved  him 
while  living,  and  mourned  for  him  when  dead.  A  discourse,  from 
(Jen.  V,  21,  was  delivered  on  the  occasion  in  the  church  neai-  his 
rc.-itlcncc,  to  which  the  body  was  conveyed  before  interment  in  the 
family  vault.  In  the  solemn  and  alTecting  services  of  the  occa- 
.sioii,  both  at  the  house  and  the  grave,  ministers  of  different  denomi- 
nations united. 

Thus  lived  and  died  Thomas  MorrcU,  at  the  advanced  age  of 
ninety  j'cars  eight  months  and  sixteen  days,  having  continued  to 
preach  regularly  ever)'  sabbath  until  within  t.wo  years  of  his 
death ;  a  period  of  half  a  century  spent  in  the  ministry,  though 
he  did  not  enter  upon  the  sacred  office  until  he  v,-as  thirty-eight 
years  old. 

]5ul  the  writer  of  this  memoir,  liaving  already  availed  himself  of 
ihc  highly  interesting  journal  which  father  Morrell  kept  so  diligently  | 

to  the  end  of  his  life,  cannot  hope  to  answer  the  just  expectations,  I 

which  the  possession  of  these  documents  inspires  in  the  minds  of 
the  relatives  and  friends,  without  making  still  further  extracts.  In- 
deed, so  judiciously  has  this  diary  been  kept,  with  so  much  ele- 
gance and  taste,  even  in  its  chirography,  that  a  leaf  from  it  would 
be  a  treasure  in  any  museum  of  autographs,  especially  those  parts 
of  the  journal  written  long  after  he  had  passed  his  fourscore  years 
on  earth.  ]5ut  as  wc  cannot  transfer  to  these  pages  a  fac  simile, 
liowever  desirable  it  luay  seem  to  the  reader,  we  must  be  content 
with  a  few  brief  illustrations  of  its  matter,  wliich  cannot  fail  to 
inleicsl  all  who  knew  its  venerable  author. 

From  the  year  17S9  he  records  in  tables  all  the  texts  on  which 
lie  preached,  with  the  date  of  each  sermon,  during  the  whole 
course  of  his  ministiy,  in  the  cities  of  New-York,  Philadelphia, 
liallimore,  and  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  and  since  at  Elizabcth- 
lown,  New-Jersey,  and  elsewhere,  in  each  of  which  places  he  was 
stationed  a  longer  or  shorter  lime  by  Bishop  Asbury.  The  sea- 
sons of  revival  in  each  of  these  cities,  with  circumstances  and  rc- 
sulf?,  arc  carefully  noted,  together  with  every  important  event  which 
triti-|)ircd,  especially  the    occurrence   of  yellow  fever  and  other 


332  Memoir  of  the.  Rev.  Thomas  Morrell.  UxAy, 

epidemics,  in  the  midst  of  whicli  lie  was  called  to  labor  and  to 
sufier.  Of  his  colleagues  he  makes  honorable  mention  in  all  cases. 
Among  them  I  find  the  names  of  Robert  Cloud,  Jethro  Johnson, 
J.  Merrick,  Jacob  Brush,  Wni.  Jcssop,  Richard  Whatcoal,  J.  i\Iann, 

D.  Smith,  Lewis  Jlunsfickl,  N.  Snethcn,  M.  Coate, Williston, 

Wilson,  and  George  Roberts.    Of  the  last  he  says, — "Brother 

George  Roberts  was  my  last  colleague  in  Bahimore  in  1800-1. 
We  had  a  glorious  revival,  and  mj'  colleague  was  one  of  the  most 
excellent  of  men,  I  think  superior  in  every  point  of  view  to  any 
I  liad  ever  been  stationed  with." 

It  appears  by  this  journal,  that  he  was  accustomed  to  preach 
three  limes  every  salibalh,  besides  week-day  services,  when  sta- 
tioned in  the  several  cities,  and  he  sometimes  preached  also  in  the 
streets  and  market  liniises  in  addition  to  Ins  other  labors,  of  which 
latter  services  he  records  instances  of  signal  usefulness,  especially 
in  Baltimore.  After  his  removal  to  Elizabethtown,  being  no  longer 
able  to  travel,  when  his  health  permitted,' he  continued  for  many 
years  to  preach  twice  every  Sunday,  and  often  three  times,  and 
tliis  w;v.s  tlie  case  until  he  was  more  than  threescore  years  and 
ten.  After  this,  the  con.ference  provided  assistance,  first  \>y  making 
it  a  circuit,  and  afterward  a  station.  Among  the  preachers  who 
were  stationed  in  Elizabethtown,  and  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his 
counsels  in  tluiir  early  minislrj%  I  fmd  the  names  of  Joseph  Ijybrand, 
G.  G.  Cookmnn,  l^rofcssor  lloldich,  Thomas  B.  Sargent,  Professor 
M'Clinlock,  E.  S.  Janes,  W.  II.  Gilder,  J.  Buckley,  W.  A.  Wil- 
mer,  and  otliers,  all  of  whom  are  registered  in  his  journal,  the 
nature  and  extent  of  their  ministerial  services  recorded,'  together 
with  his  testimonial  of  Christian  confidence  and  regard  for  all  of 
them,  whom  he  loved  as  sons  in  the  gospel.  And  as  his  journal  is 
complete  so  far  as  ser%-ices  in  the  church  at  Elizabethtown  are 
concerned,  every  brother  in  the  traveling  or  local  ministry  who  ever 
occupied  the  pulpit  there,  is  here  registered  by  his  own  hand, 
whether  he  v.'us  himself  present,  or  absent  from  ill  health,  which 
alone  ever  kept  him  from  the  sanctuary.  In  this  respect  he  was 
truly  e.xcmphry,  in  a  point  in  which  he  has  few  imitators,  among 
preachers  or  people. 

It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  so  little  can  now  be  learned  of 
the  history  of  father  MorrelFs  early  life,  especially  as  he  lived  in 
the  times  which  "  tried  men's  souls,"  and  we  have  reason  to  believe 


1^11.]  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  MorrcU.  333 

th:it  lie  filled  a  prominent  and  impoitant  place  in  civil  and  military 
liCc  up  to  the  period  of  liis  conversion  and  call  to  the  minislrj-. 
'I'lial  his  jiraclicc  of  journalizing  every  important  event  in  his  diary 
was  not  the  rcr-.iilt  of  his  conversion,  but  had  been  adopted  in  early 
lifi-,  we  jiavc  the  evidence  among  his  papers,  in  which  he  records 
and  do)ilorcs  the  loss  of  all  his  revolutionary  manuscripts,  includ- 
ing certificates  of  funded  debt  in  continental  money,  and  other 
valuable  documents,  which  were  pillaged  or  destroyed  by  a  body  of 
n-higces,  who  in  1780  made  an  irruption  into  Elizabethtowu  at  the 
liine  the  Presbyterian  church,  court  house,  and  academy  were 
burned,  and  the  houses  of  the  whigs  plundered.  His  house  was 
among  those  which  suffered  from  this  outrage,  he  being  at  that 
liiiic  absent  in  the  army,  and  having  been  odious  because  of  the 
active  duty  lie  liad  performed  in  disarming  the  lories,  and  search- 
ing for  concealed  arms  and  ammunition,  under  the  orders  of  the  com- 
mittee of  safety,  in  wliosc  service  he  had  been  zealous  and  useful. 
By  certain  records  in  the  war  department  at  Washington,  however, 
as  Well  as  by  the  history  of  those  times,  the  nature  and  extent  of 
the  military  services  he  performed  in  the  revolutionary  war,  during 
which  he  held  the  commissions  of  captain  and  major,  are  detailed ; 
;ind  go  to  show,  that  in  fighting  and  bleeding  for  his  country  he  was 
as  zealous  and  intrepid  as  he  afterward  became  in  the  Lord's  army. 
In  ]  775  we  find  him  in  command  of  one  of  the  boats  which  boarded 
and  captured  the  transport  ship  "  Blue  j\Iountaiu  Valley,"  about 
twenty  miles  from  Sandy  Hook.  She  was  laden  with  provisions 
and  coal  from  England  for  the  supply  of  the  British  army  in 
America,  mounted  twelve  carriage  guns,  and  was  manned  by  forty 
men.  Having  surjiriscd  and  captured  her,  she  was  safely  brought 
round  by  the  way  of  Amboy  to  Elizabethtown  Point,  and  her  cargo 
toon  landed  by  these  intrepid  Jerseymen.  Tliis  was  immediately 
after  the  lirst  American  blood  had  been  spilled  at  Lexington.  Soon 
after  he  v.as  at  the  licad  of  a  company  of  volunteers,  raised  by  a 
patriotic  address  whicli  he  himself  delivered  to  a  body  of  Jersey 
militia,  and  composed  of  the  most  respectable  young  men  of  the 
s-'tate ;  and  he  marched  with  them  to  New- York  to  join  General 
^\  ashington's  army.  They  were  soon  ordered  to  join  General 
Sullivan  on  Long  Island,  and  at  the  battle  which  followed,  on  the 
li''i.'iits  of  Flaibush,  they  received  the  first  attack  of  the  Britisli 
army.     Here  Captain  Morrcll  received  a  musket  ball  in  his  rigiil 


334  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Morrcll.  [July, 

breast,  which  passed  through  his  body  about  an  inch  above  his 
lungs,  and  fractured  his  slioulder  blade.  Another  ball  struck  the 
fusee  he  held  in  his  hands,  which  split  the  ball,  and  a  part  of  it 
passed  through  his  right  hand.  Thus  severeh'  w^ounded,  and  fallen 
upon  the  field,  by  feigning  himself  dead,  he  escaped  further  injury 
from  the  advancing  ioc,  and  being  afterward  brought  to  the  lines, 
his  wounds  were  dressed  b}'  the  surgeon,  and  he  was  carried  upon 
a  hurdle  to  New- York,  when,  by  the  advice  of  tlic  surgeon-general, 
and  the  dirrrtion  of  General  Washington,  six  soldiers  were  dis- 
jiatchcd  to  convey  him  to  his  father's  house  at  Elizabethtow^n. 
Before  he  liad  fully  recovered  from  his  wounds  he  received  a  com- 
mission as  major  of  the  fourth  Jersey  regiment  of  the  continental 
army,  and  was  in  the  battle  of  Brandywiae,  where  his  regiment 
suffered  severely,  and  though  his  health  rapidly  declined  from  his 
premature  cx])Osurc  and  arduous  duties,  yet  he  marched  all  night 
with  the  army  to  the  attack  at  Germantown,  after  which  he  v.-as 
directed  b}'  General  Washington  to  retire  from  the  army  mitil  he 
should  recover  from  liis  wounds,  the  principal  one  being  not  yet 
Jiealcd. 

During  the  war,  however,  he  performed  many  other  acts  of 
heroism  and  hardsiiip  in  the  service  of  his  country,  and  )'et  it  was 
not  until  a  few  years  before  his  death  that  this  old  revolutionary 
soldier,  officer,  and  patriot,  was  placed  on  the  pension  list,  to  which 
his  services  and  his  wounvls  gave  him  so  strong  a  claim.  He  bore 
the  scars  to  liis  grave,  and  though  he  lived  more  than  half  a  century 
after  these  dangerous  wounds,  received  hi  the  battles  of  his  countr}'-, 
yet  much  of  the  affliclions  of  his  long  life  were  owing  to  the  injury 
thus  inflicted  upon  his  otherwise  vigorous  constitution.  The  pre- 
servation of  his  life,  after  a  gunshot  wound,  the  ball  passing  through 
his  chest,  and  fracturing  the  shoulder  blade  in  its  exit,  is  an  extra- 
ordinary instance  of  jirovidential  interposition,  and  was  ominous  of 
the  subsequent  life  of  usefulness  for  which  he  was  destined,  and 
which  was  protracted  by  the  same  Providence  so  far  beyond  the 
age  generally  allr.itcd  to  man. 

Of  the  religious  and  ministerial  character  which  father  Morrcll 
sustained  from  the  period  of  his  conversion  in  1785,  sufficient  lias 
been  said  in  the  former  jiart  of  this  memoir,  and  the  few  extracts 
from  his  diary  which  have  been  given,  may  suffice  to  show  the 
uniformity  and  consistency  of  his  Christian  character,  the  ardent 


JSII.]  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Tlwmas  Morrcll.  335 

ami  (Icvdtcd  pict)'  of  liis  life,  as  well  as  the  qualifications  for  minis- 
l.-ni;i!  usefulness  by  which  he  was  distinguished.  As  a  husband 
and  f.ilhcr,  he  was  an  eminent  example  of  affecliou  and  kindness, 
ai;d  i:\  the  domestic  circle  of  his  home,  an  atmosphere  of  devotion 
and  f.uniiv  religion  seemed  ever  to  abide  and  prevail.  From 
]5i.-!;(-p  A.sbury's  time  until  the  period  of  his  death,  his  house  was 
the  li.iinc  of  the  v.ay-wom  pilgi-im,  a  retreat  to  which  our  ministry, 
rs|iorjal]y  the  aged  and  the  afllicted,  were  wont  to  be  welcomed 
wiih  llic  most  afiectionale  hospitality.  His  bereaved  widow,  and 
Ills  cliildren,  a  son  and  two  daughters,  all  of  whom  rejoice  in  the 
.•salvation  of  God,  have  lost  their  aged  counsellor,  exemplar,  and 
friend,  and  they,  more  than  all  others,  know  the  desolation  of  that 
liome  which  father  Morrcll's  presence  so  long  sanctified  and 
ciicercd.  But  many  on  earth,  and  more  whom  he  has  embraced 
in  heaven,  lemember  with  gratitude  to  God  the  seasons  of  prayer 
and  j)raisc,  in  which  they  have  been  privileged  to  mingle  at  that 
family  altar,  when,  like  another  patriarch,  this  venerable  mail 
would  read  and  expound,  as  was  his  custom,  the  book  of  God, 
uniio  in  a  song  of  praise,  and  then  in  simplicity,  meekness,  and 
fiTvor,  pour  out  his  soul  to  God  in  prayer.  In  such  seasons  the 
writer  has  often  felt  "  quite  in  the  verge  of  heaven,"  and  can  never 
lose  the  cherished  recollections,  of  which  many  others  have  spoken, 
that  were  inspired  by  familiar  intercourse  and  communion  with 
this  man  of  God. 

]jul  he  is  gone;  and  we  may  appropriately  adopt  the  language  of 
llic  psalmist,  and  exclaim,  "Help,  Lord,  for  the  godly  man  ccascth, 
for  ihi;  faithful  fail  from  among  the  children  of  men."  He  was  a 
true  Wcsleyan  in  his  spirit  and  practice,  and  to  the  day  of  his  death 
v.T.y  a  .Metliodist  of  ilie  old  school.  To  the  venerable  Asbury  he 
was  ardently  attaclicd,  shared  his  most  intimate  counsels  and  friend- 
.^lii]',  and  was  liis  chosen  traveling  companion  in  1701-2,  accom- 
pnnyiiig  him  in  his  circuitous  journeyings  from  Baltimore  to 
Ghavleston,  South  Carolina,  visiting  the  several  conferences,  dis- 
tiicts,  and  stations,  preaching  alternately  with  him,  and  aiding  him 
in  confirming  the  churches.  Having  fdled  many  of  the  most  im- 
portant stations  by  his  appointment,  until  1S04,  father  Morrcll 
v.a-!  constrained  to  retire  from  cllicicnt  itinerant  labor,  and  remain 
at  Idi/.ihcihlown,  Ncw-.Tcrsey,  in  a  supernumerary  relation  to  the 
coiifcrcncc,  mostly  in  charge  of  the  station,  with  a  junior  preacher. 


336  '  Cousin's  Psijchologi/.  [July, 

until  his  age  and  infinnitv  rendered  liim  "sr.pcramiuate."  Here  liis 
long  rcsidcnee  had  served  to  endear  liim  greatly,  not  only  to  his 
own  denomination,  but  to  Christians  of  every  name,  and  indeed  to 
the  entire  commiinily.  His  Catholicism  and  liberality  of  sentiment 
were  so  well  kiu)V>  n,  and  liis  freedom  from  all  bigoted  sectarianism, 
that  with  the  sueceisive  pastors  of  the  other  churches,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  numerous  church  of  the  Presbyterian  order,  so  long 
and  favorably  known  to  exist  here,  the  closest  intimacy  was  per- 
petuated. An  interchange  of  pulpits,  and  united  communion,  were 
at  all  times  mutually  asjrecable,  and  more  than  once  father  Jlorrell 
was  selected  to  prcacli  in  the  Presbyterian  church  on  occasions  of 
religious  celebrations,  in  which  all  denominations  were  wont  to 
unite :  for  his  religion  constrained  him  to  abound  in  every  good 
■word  and  work,  and  in  his  heart  he  was  ever  ready  to  saj',  "  Grace 
be  to  all  them  who  love  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity'." 

Thus  lived  and  died  this  venerable  and  venerated  man  of  God. 
Having  served  liis  generation  according  to  the  will  of  God,  he 
fell  asleep,  and  lias  been  gathered  with  his  fathers  to  his  own  tomb: 
whence  tlie  Lord  will  raise  him  up  in  the  last  day,  and  having 
turned  many  to  righteousness,  these  shall  be  stars  in  the  crown  of 
his  rejoicing,  for  ever  and  ever.  J\lay  the  mantle  of  his  primitive, 
evangelical,  apostohc  spirit  fall  on  his  sons  and  successors  in  the 
ministry  till  tlie  heavens  shall  bo  no  more  !  D.  M.  R. 


Art.  II. — 1.  Ifi^toirc  Jc  la  PJtiJosopltie  au  dix-hiiiticme  siicle. 
Par  M.  V.  Corsix,  Profcsseur  do  la  Philosophic  a  la  Faculte 
des  Lcttrcs  de  Paris.     2  vols.,  8vo. 

2.  EJcmrjits  of  Psijchology,  indudcd  in  a  critical  Exa)ni?iation 
of  Locke's  Ersciij  Oil  the  Hnman  Understanding,  herni;  a  Trans- 
latinn  from  th"  French  of  ten  Lectures  of  tltc  second  Vohi/ne  of 
the  uhorc — from  the  sixteenth  to  the  tioentij-ffth  inclusive.  By 
Pev.  C.  S.'IInNuv,  D.D. 

There  is  not  another  living  philosopher  who  occupies  so  much 
of  the  attention  of  the  philosophic  world  as  J\I.  V.  Cousin,  the 
Parisian  eclectic.  To  this  he  is  entitled',  not  only  on  account  of 
his  prodigious  and  unremitted  labors  in  the  cause  of  pliilosophy 
ihrougli  a  period  of  more  than  thirty  years  ;  but  also  for  the  new 
and  important  prmciples  his  labors  have  evolved  in  metaphysical 


f 


ISll.]  Cousins  Ps!/choIogi/.  337 

science,  and  tlic  new  and  elevated  turn  he  is  giving  to  the  course 
of  p!ii!osonliy  in  the  French  nation.  Cousin  is  distinguished  no 
less  for  the  boldness  and  originality  of  his  ideas,  than  for  the  elo- 
quence and  cficctivcness  v/iih  vihich  they  are  m-ged  upon  his 
iinmensc  auditories.  He  claims  to  be  the  partizan  of  no  sect  in 
p!ii!oso[)liy,  and  the  dupe  of  no  S3^>tem.  He  contends  for  the  most 
.-ib,H)hitc  iVccdoin  of  tliought  and  investigation ;  and  tlius  trammels 
linnself  willi  the  leading  strings  of  no  exclusive  system.  But  when 
I  say  lliat  he  is  a  most  absolute  free-thinker  in  philosopliy,  let  me 
not  be  misunderstood.  He  is  also  a  Christian,  a  believer  in  reve- 
lation and  religion  ;  and  his  philosophy,  instead  of  being  hifidel  in 
its  character  or  tendency,  is  essentially  Christian  throughout.  In- 
deed, he  claims  for  religion  a  high  place,  even  in  an  efficient  system 
of  national  education ;  and  distinctly  declares  "  that  a  system  of 
common  instruction  cannot  be  cfTcctual  in  restraining  vice,  unless 
it  is  based  on  rcliE,ion."  It  was  a  very  jnst  and  apposite  remark  of 
l.nibcrg,  that  "  Cousin  avows  every^where  distinctly,  and  without 
reserve  or  hypocrisy,  his  firm  belief  in  the  tnitli  of  the  Christiaii 
religion."  It  is  no  small  triumph  on  the  part  of  Christianity,  that 
infidel  France  condescends  to  listen  with  attention  and  reverence  to 
a  philosopher  with  whom  revelation  and  religion  are  the  very 
foundations  of  all  sound  philosophy  and  all  truth.  It  is  true, 
f'hc  once  abjured  religion — that  her  philosophers  sacrilegiously 
laid  their  hands  upon  the  ahaxs  of  the  hving  God,  and  sought  to 
blot  all  knowledge  of  him,  and  reverence  for  him,  from  the  minds  of 
llie  pi'opie.  Voltaire,  and  his  associate  v^Tetchcs,  sought  to  crush 
the  Bible,  and  to  bring  all  the  forms  of  religious  worship  into 
universal  contempt ;  and  under  the  auspices  of  sensualism  and 
m:iterialism,  they  had  well  nigh  accomplished  their  nefarious  pur- 
pose. Ikit  under  the  influences  of  "  the  new  philosophy,"  Chris- 
tianity in  France  is  undergoing  a  resurrection  from  the  grave  of 
licentiousness  and  infidelity — thus  proving  to  the  worid  that  though 
ovrrwliclmed  for  a  time,  it  was  not  destroyed.  It  is  "  irrepressible, 
invulnerable  ;  and,  like  Milton's  angels, 

'  Cannot  but  by  annihilating  die'  " 

\\  e  jiavc  already  intimated  that  Cousin  is  a  disciple  of  no  one 
of  t'nc  systems  which  have  heretofore  been  thought  to  embrace  all 
phi!oso])hors.     Rather,  perhaps,  we  shoidd  have  said,  he  is  the 


338  Cousi/L\s  Fsychology.  [July, 

disciple  of  all  llic  philosupliical  schools  and  llie  antagonist  of  all. 
He  enters  the  penetralia  of  every  system ;  but  bows  only  before 
the  shrine  of  truth.  It  is  his  province,  as  a  ^philosopher,  to  embrace 
the  part  of  trutli  discovered  in  each  system ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  he  makes  war  upon  error  wherever  and  whenever  found.  And 
on  this  rests  his  eclecticism,  the  "method"  of  which  wc  shall 
examine  by  and  by.  ■  I 

But  whoever  looks  for  a  system  of  philosophy  from  the  hand  of  | 

Cousin  will  be  disappointed.     His  system,  as  yet,  is  to  be  drawn,  | 

by  inference,  from  his  works.     It  is  tmc  that  its  distinct  featmcs  \ 

may  be  discovered  in  his  Philosophical  Fragments,   and  in  the  1 

Introduction  to  the  History  of  Philosopliy,   and   also  in   several  j 

programms  wliich  he  has  sketched  out.      But  he  has  as  yet  given  | 

no  full  and  sy-slcmatic  exposition  of  the  principles  of  Ms  philosophy.  1 

And  it  yet  remains  to  be  seen  whether  he  possesses  as  much  ability  i 

to  build  up  as  to  pull  down,  to  form  a  new  and  faultless  system  of  I 

philosophy,  as  to  expose  the  eiTors  of  systems  aheady  formed.  | 

Around  him  lie  the  colossal  fragments  of  exploded  systems  ;   but  | 

will  he,  from  these  scattered  fragments,  cause  another  temple  of  | 

philosophy  to  arise,  faultless  in  its  proportions,  grand  in  its  dimen-  | 

sions,  and  indestructible  as  truth  itself?    To  pull  down  the  already  | 

dilapidated  and  tottering  structure  is  comparatively  easy  ;  but  upon  | 

its  ruins  to  cause  another,  more  grand  and  durable,  to  rise,  hie  opus,  I 

hie  hhor  est.  1 

Cousin  a(!o])ls  llie  maxim,  that  the  philosopliy  of  mind  is  to  be  \ 

discovered  and  developed  by  a  careful  examination  and  critical  \ 

analysis    of  tlie    history  of  mind.     Hence  he  essays  to  go  back  | 

to  the  very  beginnings   of  recorded  thought,  and  thence  follow-  I 

ing  the  onward  flow  of  philosophy,  to  trace  out  its  developments  i 

and  analyze  its  various  systems.     This  he  has  done  with  great  | 

ability  and  cflcct,  exhibiting  everywhere  the  most  profound  and  | 

accurate  knowledge  of  the  whole  range  of  philosophy  and  philo-  | 

sophical  systems.    Perhaps  no  one  is  so  deeply  read  in  philosojthy  ;  | 

no  one  has  been  admitted  to  such  familiar  intercourse  with  the  i 

giant  intellects  of  antiquity.     Nor  has  he  penetrated  this  exhaust-  \ 

less  mine  in  vain,  but  has  returned  laden  with   abundant  materials  i 

to  strengthen  and  adorn  the  magnificent  temple  of  modern  philo-  I 

so])hy.     He  is  a  critic;    but  lie  criticises   only   for  the  sake  of  | 

truth.     Aiid  the  broad  and  deep  incisions  he  lias  made  on  systems  I 


jgll.]  Cousin's  Psycltology.  339 

tliat  liave  been,  or  may  now  be  in  vogue,  were  made  that  philo- 
siiplnc  tmlh  niia;ht  flow  witli  freer  course.  He  has  touched  no 
sdtiiid  and  hca!lh_y  part ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  he  has  endeavored 
10  liMVL-  unaniputatcd  no  diseased  and  sickly  limb.  Ever  holding  the 
turi-h.  1  if  reason  above  him,  he  gropes  his  way  onward  in  search  of  in//7i. 

lie  traces  out  the  development  of  philosophy,  its  spirit  and  its 
nictluKi,  tlirough  its  successive  periods,  exhibiting  what  is  peculiar 
in  tlic  development  of  each  period.  And  from  this  examination  of 
the  hision/  of  philosophy,  he  educes  a  classification  of  its  spirit,  as 
cxlnbiicd  in  every  epoch  of  the  world,  into  four  general  and  dis- 
tinct schools  or  systems,  viz.,  sensualism,  idealism,  skepticism, 
and  mysticism.. 

'I'liat  these  terms  may  be  distinctly  apprehended,  it  may  not  be 
amiss  to  subjoin  a  brief  definition  of  them. 

1 .  The  term  sensualism  is  used  in  no  invidious  sense  ;  but  to 
dosipiatc  that  system  in  philosophy  which  takes  sensation  as  the 
solo  principle  of  knowledge.  It  assumes  that  there  is  not  a  single 
cli-uicnt  of  knowledge  or  consciousness,  which  may  not  be  explained 
by  and  referred  to  sensation. 

".  Idealism  is  the  antagonist  of  sensualism.  It  denies  to  matter 
an  existence — finds  all  reality  in  mind  alone — and  absorbs  all 
tilings,  God  and  the  universe,  into  individual  consciousness,  and 
tliat  into  thought.  So  that  it  is  willing  to  allow  a  real  existence  to 
ideas  only. 

3.  Skepticism  throws  the  mists  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  over  all 
things.  It  admits  only  one  thing  as  certain,  and  that  is,  there  is  no 
certainty  in  any  thing. 

■1.  Jlyslicism  is  expressive  of  a  philosophic  system,  which  has 
been  and  still  is  in  some  places  exceedingly  prevalent.  The  system 
of  tlic  mystics  proceeded  upon  the  doctrine  of  the  Platonic  school, 
tliat  the  divine  nature  was  diffused  through  all  Imman  souls.  Hence 
the  mystics  affirmed  that  the  faculty  of  reason,  from  which  proceed 
the  health  and  vigor  of  the  mind,  was  an  emanation  from  God 
and  comprehended  in  it  the  principles  and  elements  of  all  trutli, 
human  and  divine. 

Mysticism,  however,  as  the  term  is  understood  and  used  by 
CouMii,  is  not  the  renunciation  of  reflection;  but  reflection  itself, 
biiiMiM^  its  system  upon  the  eternal  principle  of  reason  in  the 
liuiuaT!  mind. 


340  Cousin's  rsyclwhgy.  [July, 

Tliis,  1  admit,  is  an  im])erfect  account  of  these  schools ;  hut  it 
is  as  extensive  as  my  present  limits  will  allow.  In  these  four 
systems,  Cousin  claims,  iiuiy  be  found  the  fundamental  clcmciils  of 
all  pb.ilosophy,  and  consequently  in  tracing  out  these  systems  wc 
embrace  the  entire  history  of  philosophy. . 

At  the  head  of  the  sensual  school  he  has  placed  Locke,  as  i(s 
father  and  expounder.  Not  that  Locke  was  the  fn-st  sensualist. 
For  he  funis  the  sensual  school, 

"  Willi  all  its  distinctive  traits,  in  the  philosophy  of  India ;  he  traces 
it  tlirouidi  iho  twelve  cciUurics,  filled  by  Grecian  philosophy,  from  its 
ccimiiii'iii-cmenl  in  the  Ionian  school  to  Aristotle  and  the  Peripalctics  ; 
thenc  In  i;-;  n';ij>|i(  arancc  in  the  middle  age,  involved  in  the  scliolasiic 
Koniiiuili- 111  (if  Decani;  ihcnce  to  its  more  decided  annonncemcnl  in 
Poni])()nat!ii>,  Zclcsio,  and  CanipancUa,  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries  ;  and  fniully  in  modern  philosophy,  in  Hobbcs,  Gassendi, 
and  others,  the  immediate  predecessors  of  Locke." — Introduction  to 
Psychology,  p.  3S. 

But  still  it  was  Locke  that  gave  fonn  and  consistence  to  scn- 
sualisni  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Cousin  claims  it  to  he  a  legi- 
timate olTspring  of  Locke's  researches  in  a  preceding  century,  njid 
therefore  declares  him  to  be  the  true  father  of  sensuahsm  hi  that 
perio<l. 

But  we  design  to  notice  more  particularly  the  critical  examination 
of  the  E«?ay  upon  the  Understanding.  This  is  a  master-piece  of 
logical  criticism ;  and  the  learned  translator  has  done  an  essciitial 
scn-icn  to  the  cause  of  philosophy  in  liis  own  country,  in  presenting 
it  to  llic  American  ptiblic.  Every  one,  who  can  appreciate  its 
merits,  mu<t  admit  that  Cousin  has  cxliibited  in  this  work  the  most 
masterly  jiower  of  critical  analysis.  Neither  Leibnitz  nor  Rcid. 
ever  lutikd  ludf  so  formidable  a  club  at  the  inetaphysical  colossus 
of  Locke.  'I'hc  formidable  empiricism*  of  Locke  lias  met  with  a 
stern  rebuke  in  the  eclecticism  of  Cousin. 

He  speaks  thus  of  the  spirit  of  Locke's  philosophy  : — 

"  A  sin^^le  (.dance  is  enough  to  show  that  Locke  is  a  free  seeker  of 
Inifh.  Everyuhcrc  he  appeals  to  reason.  He  starts  from  this  autho- 
rity, and  from  this  alone  ;  and  if  he  subsequently  admits  another,  it  is 

•  Empiricism  was  a  term  used  to  designate  the  pliilosopliical  system  of 
Locke,  because  ho  mailc  experience  {cii-ei^ia)  tlie  exclusive  source  of  knov.-- 
ledge.  Willi  him  experience  was  two-foltl,  sensation  and  rcfleciion.  And  to 
tlicse  two  sources  of  knowk^Jgc  he  attempted  to  refer  the  origin  of  all 
o\a  ideas. 


It^Jl.]  Cousi?;\<;  rsijcholog!/.  341 

I. realise  ho  avrivod  at  it  by  reason ;  so  that  it  is  the  renson  which 
novenis  him,  ami,  as  it  were,  holds  the  reins  of  liis  ininJ.  Locke 
ilwii  lirloriL's  to  the  great  family  of  independent  philosophers.  The 
r;.vs:iv  111'  ihe  I'liderstaiiding  is  a  fruit  of  the  movement  of  iuch>peiuleiice 
ill  the  (■iulili'''iiih  reiitur)-,  and  it  has  sustained  and  redoubled  that 
moviaici'.i.  This  character  passed  from  the  master  to  his  whole 
mIuioI,  and  was  thus  reeommonded  to  all  the  friends  of  laiuian  reason. 
I  .sliuuld  add  that  in  Locke,  independence  is  always  united  with  a 
sincere  and  profound  respect  for  every  thing  worthy  of  respect.  Locke 
is  a  piiilosopher,  and  he  is  at  the  same  lime  a  Christian.'' — Elements 
of  Psychology,  p.  4L 

fSo  mucli  for  tlic  spirit ;  now  for  the  mctliod.  Speaking  of  the 
Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  he  says, — 

"  It  is  a  work  of  psychology  and  not  of  ontology.  Locke  does  not 
investigate  the  nature  and  principle  of  the  understanding,  but  the 
action  itself  of  this  faculty,  the  phenomena  by  which  it  is  developed 
and  manifested.  Now  the  phenomena  of  the  understanding  Locke 
calls  idras.  This  is  thr  tecliincal  word  ^vhich  he  evorvwhrve  employs 
to  d..-HL'nate  lluit  by  wiiirh  the  undrrst;i;i(!)iir;-  maiiifc-ls  il.-.ell' and  that 
to  wli:r)i  it  imme'diattlv  ajqilies  its.-H."  '■  The  stiidv  of  the  und'T- 
stnnJing  is  with  Locke,'  and  Willi  all  his  school,  ihe'study  of  ideas  ; 
and  hcucc  the  celebrated  word  ideology,  recently  formed  to  designate 
the  science  of  the  human  understanding.  The  source  of  this  e.xpres- 
sioii  aheady  lay  in  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  and  the 
ideological  school  is  tlie  daughter  of  Ijocke." — Psychology,  ]ip.  61,  52. 

Understanding,  as  in  Locke,  ideas  to  embrace  all  liuman  cog- 
nitions, Cousin  is  no  loss  an  ideologist  than  Locke.  Indeed,  wp 
may  safely  affirm,  that  inasmuch  as  we  may  not  enter  into  the  in- 
terior s;mctuarj'  of  the  soul,  and  then  comprehend  its  essence  and 
nature,  it  is  only  by  its  developments,  its  manifestations,  or,  in 
olhcr  words,  idca^  that  wc  can  discover  any  thing  of  its  nature 
aiul  it.s  laws.  Let  no  one  be  startled  at  this,  as  though  we  were 
about  to  shroud  the  study  of  mind  in  iinponetrablc  mystery.  Wc 
cnvcli)])  l!ic  mind  in  just  as  much  mystery  as  every  thing  else  in 
iialiirc  is  shrouded,  and  no  more.  For  instance,  in  the  study  of 
Jiiatlcr,  or  any  portion  of  it,  is  its  essence  in  any  way  directly 
developed  to  the  individual  consciousness?  Rather,  do  wc  not 
become  acquainted  with  it  in  its  rclalions  1  and  study  it,  through 
its  fiualilies,  as  they  are  manifested  to  the  understanding  tlu-ough  the 
medium  of  the  senses  ?  The  sensation,  it  is  true,  is  not  a  quaUtij 
of  matter,  neither  are  ideas  qualities  of  mind,  but  as  our  sensations 
develop  to  the  understanding  the  properties  and  laws  of  rnatler,  so 
ideas  develop  the  principles   and  laws   of  mind.     Again,   as  our 

Vol.  L-20 


312  Cousin's  PsyclioJogy.  [July, 

knowledge  of  mntlcr  is  limited  to  a  cognizance  of  its  qualities,  so 
our  knowledge  of  the  mind,  soul,  spirit,  (or  whatever  you  please  to 
call  it,)  is  limited  to  a  cognizance  of  the  actual  state  of  human 
knowledge,  its  law  of  dcvclojimcnt  and  being. 

But  again,  with  reference  to  ideas,  as  tending  to  unfold  the 
nature  and  princijilcs  of  mind,  there  are  three  verjr  important,  yet 
distinct  questions,  which  embrace  a  complete  system  of  ideolog)\ 

1.  AMiat  arc  the  actual  characteristics  of  ideas  as  they  are  mani- 
fested to  the  individual  consciousness? 

2.  What  is  the  origin  of  those  ideas  ? 

3.  Wliat  is  iheir  certaintj'  or  validity  ? 

A  complete  system  of  psjxhology  must  comprehend  the  solution 
of  these  three  qiicstions.  But  with  which  shall  it  commence  1 
Shall  it  begin  by  investigating  the  actual  characters  of  our  ideas  1 
or  by  tracing  out  their  origin  ?  Cousin  thus  enters  upon  this  in- 
q>iiry  : — 

"  Sliall  \vn  licL'in  -ivilh  the  question  of  the  origin  of  ideas  ?  In  the 
first  jjl^cc,  it  is  lull  of  obscurity.  The  mind  is  a  river  which  we  can- 
not cnsily  asccntl.  Its  source,  like  that  of  the  Nile,  is  a  mystery. 
How,  imlccj,  shall  wc  catch  the  fuijhive  phenomena,  by  whicli  the 
birtli  and  first  sprinsinrj  up  of  thought  is  marked?  Is  it  by  memorj- ? 
IJut  you  Imvu  I'dvyolten  what  passed  wuhin  you  tlien  ;  you  did  not  even 
remark  it.  Life  and  lliought  then  go  on  without  our  heeding  the  man- 
ner in  whicli  we  thiid;  and  live  ;  and  the  memory  yields  not  up  the 
deposit  that  was  never  intrusted  to  it.  AVill  you  consult  others  ? 
They  are  in  the  same  perplexity  with  yourself.  Will  you  make  the 
infant  mind  your  study  ?  But  who  will  unfold  wdiat  passes  bcncadi 
the  veil  of  infant  lliought?  The  attempt  to  do  it  readily 'conducts  to 
conjectures,  to  hy]iotheses.  But  is  it  thus  you  would  begin  an  experi- 
mental science  ?  It  is  in-ident,  then,  tliat  if  you  start  with  tliis  question 
concerning  tlic  origin  of  ideas,  you  start  with  precisely  the  most  diffi- 
cult question.  Now  if  a  sound  method  ought  to  proceed  from  the 
better  known  to  the  less  known,  from  the  more  easy  to  the  less  easy, 
I  would  a.sk,  whether  it  ought  to  commence  with  the  origin  of  ideas  \ 
This  is  the  first  objcclion." 

"  Look  at  another.  You  begin  by  investigating  the  oric^in  of  ideas  ; 
J-QU  begin,  tlu-n,  by  investigating  the  origin  of  that  of  which  you  arc 
ignorant,  of  phenomena  M-hich  you  have  not  studied.  What  origin 
could  you  then  find,  but  a  hypothetical  origin  1  And  this  hypothesis 
will  be  either  true  or  false.  Is  it  true  ?  Very  well,  then  ;  you  have 
happened  to  divine  correcdy  ;  but  as  divination,  even  the  divination  of 
genius,  is  not  a  scientific  process,  so  the  truth  itself  thus  discovered 
cannot  claim  the  rank  of  science  ;  it  is  still  but  hypothesis.  "Wisdom, 
then,  good  sense,  and  logic  demand,  that  omitting  provisionally  the 
question  of  the  origin  of  ideas,  wc  should  be  content  first  to  observe 
22» 


J  811.]  Coiisiii's  rsycJioIogij.  313 

tlio  iiloas  as  tlicy  now  arc,  the   charnntPrs  vvlii.  li   tlio  plicnomrna  of 
}iitclli!,'cnco  iicUially  lirive  at  prosent  in  tlio  consciousness. 

"  'I'liis  iloiie,  in  order  to  comjilcte  our  iiivcstinalions,  in  order  to  no 
10  llic  cxtcnl  of  our  capacity,  and  of  tlie  wants  of  the  huiuan  mind,  and 
of  the  dcaiunds  of  the  experimental  problems,  we  may  then  interroj,'atc 
ourselves  as  to  ^^hat  have  been,  in  their  origin,  the  ideas  which  wo  at 
present  jiossess.  Either  we  shall  discover  the  truth,  and  experimental 
science,  tlic  science  of  observation  and  induction,  will  be  compb  tely 
achieved  ;  or  wc  shall  not  discover  it,  and  in  that  case  nothing  will  be 
cither  lost  or  compromised.  "We  shall  not  have  attained  all  possible 
Initli,  but  wc  shall  have  obtained  a  great  part  of  the  truth.  We  shall 
know  what  is,  if  we  do  not  know  what  was ;  and  we  shall  ahvay.s  he 
prcjiarcd  to  try  attain  the  delicate  question  of  the  origin  of  ideas,  in- 
stead of  having  all  our  ulterior  investigations  iinpaired,  and  observation 
perverted  beforehand,  by  the  primary  vice  of  our  method  in  getting 
bewildered  in  a  premature  inquiry." — Psycliology,  pp.  56-58. 

Such  is  undoubtedly  tlie  true  method,  tlic  Baconian  mcilioJ  in 
philosoph}- ;  and  such  must  ever  be  the  experimental  mclliod. 
Wc  must  first  know  what  things  are  before  wc  can  know  how  ilicy 
became  what  lliey  arc.  Any  odicr  course  than  tins  would  vitiate 
llie  whole  course  of  our  investigation.  The  error  would  be  funda- 
mental. For  al  the  very  outset  of  our  inquiry  into  things  as  they 
arc,  we  shoidd  find  upon  us  the  trammels  of  a  system,  wliich,  in 
some  measure,  must  prejudge  the  w-hole  case.  Nor  is  it  a  par- 
ticidar  error,  affecting  some  particular  case ;  but  the  error  would 
be  general,  universal,  affecting  the  whole  range  of  science.  There 
is  no  argument  which  can  be  wielded  against  such  a  method  in 
physical  science,  which  may  not  be  urged  with  equal  justness  and 
force  in  mental  science,  or  in  the  invcsligalion  of  ideas.  What 
would  you  say  of  the  geologist,  who  instead  of  entering  uj^oii  ll'.c 
exploration  of  nature  as  she  is,  in  all  her  vastncss  and  wildues,?, 
instead  of  diving  nito  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  there  endeavoring 
to  discover  the  relative  poshion  of  the  different  strata ;  who,  instead 
of  observing  the  actual  phenomena  of  the  earth  as  it  is,  and  then 
deducing  his  system,  should  first  sit  down  and  form  his  system,  or 
hypothesis,  (for  hypothesis  it  must  be,)  with  regard  to  the  order 
and  origin  of  these  phenomena,  and  postpone  the  question  of  the 
phenomena  themselves  till  afterward?  Such  a  geologist  would 
■^valk  forth  to  make  his  observations  and  experiments  with  hi-s 
sij.\tnii,  like  a  coal  of  mail  around  him ;  and  what  avails  it  that 
after  liis  hypothesis  is  adopted,  he  nobly  detcrmhics  to  be  an  cx- 
])crimental,    an  inductive  philosopher?     His    experiments  are  all 


344  Cousin's  Psycltohsxy.  [July, 

subject  to  and  prcjiulgcd  l)y  bis  cillicr  true  or  false  liypothcsis,  and 
llic  vhoje  course  of  liis  iii<l\iction  is  put  upon  the  same  train.  Tin's 
is  first  embracing  our  theory  and  then  attempting  to  establish  it  by 
facts  ;  but  the  true  method,  the  inductive,  the  Baconian  method  is, 
first  to  examine,  to  analyze  all  the  facts  that  can  be  discovered  in 
relation  to  the  subject,  and  then  from  these  facts,  as  thc)^  are,  with- 
out being  prejudged  by  any  system  or  hypothesis,  to  deduce,  our 
system.  This  is  building  the  system  upon  the  phenomena ;  the 
other  method  is  edging  down  and  distorting  the  phenomena  to  fit 
thciii  to  the  system.  It  is,  as  if  the  tailor  should  fii-st  make  the 
coal,  and  tlicn  attciupt  to  fit  the  man  to  the  coat,  instead  of  the  coat 
to  the  man.  This  course  of  prejudging  facts  and  experience  by 
liypothcscs,  has  over  been  one  of  the  greatest  obstacles  to  the  ad- 
vancement of  true  science.  It  would  be  interesting  to  pause  here, 
and  show  how  it  has  fettered  and  led  astra}-  some  of  the  brightest 
and  noblest  intellects  that  ever  appeared  on  the  field  of  philosophy  ; 
but  time  would  fail  me. 

We  sec  then  the  method  of  Cousin.  He  would  defer  the  ques- 
tion of  llic  origin  of  ideas  till  after  the  ideas  themselves,  their  cha- 
racters as  they  exist  in  the  consciousness  of  cverj'  individual,  have 
been  thoroughly  and  criticallj-  examined  and  tested.  It  remains 
now  to  inquire  liow  Locke  lias  proceeded,  and  in  what  order  ho 
has  taken  up  the  discussion  of  these  problems  concerning  our 
ideas.  He  says,  (Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  b.  i,  sec. 
3,)  "  First,  I  shall  inquire  into  the  original  of  those  ideas,  notions, 
or  whatever  else  you  jilcaso  to  call  them,  wliich  a  man  observes, 
and  is  conscious  to  himself  he  has  in  his  mind  ;  and  the  ways 
whereby  the  iindcrstandintr  comes  to  be  furnished  with  them." 
Here,  then,  we  see  that  Locke  proposes  to  consider  as  the  first 
question  in  philosophy,  the  origin  of  ideas.  He  inquires  into  their 
origin,  before  lie  investigates  their  nature,  or  inquires  what  they 
arc.  Hero  Locke  and  Cousin  take  leave  of  each  other ;  and 
henceforth  we  find  the  eclectic  of  the  nineteenth  century  arrayed 
in  conflict  with  the  empiric  of  the  seventeenth.  They  are  both 
independent  seekers  after  truth  ;  they  are  both  ideologists,  resolv- 
ing the  study  of  mind  into  the  study  of  ideas ;  but  having  thus  far 
marched  side  by  side,  the\''  thenceforward  pursue  different  routes; — 
Locke  in  his  perilous  journey  to  solve  the  intricate  and  diificult 
question  of  the  origin  of  ideas,  before  he  has  ascertained  what  they 


18-11.]  Cotisia's  Psi/cJiologi/.  3.J5 

arc  ; — Cousiii  proposes,  indeed,  to  march  right  onward  in  tlie  road 
of  investigation,  "  to  investigate,  without  any  systematic  prejudice, 
by  observation  solely,  in  simplicity-  and  in  good  faith,  the  pheno- 
mena of  the  understanding  in  thcii-  actual  state  as  they  exist  iu  the 
consciousness."  Ilis  first  maxim  is,  to  omit  none  of  the  pheno- 
mena attested  by  consciousness.  The  second  is,  to  imagine  none, 
or  to  lake  upon  supposition  none  that  do  not  really  exist.  This  is 
a  fair  setting  out.  The  "  land-marks"  of  the  -true  philosophic  me- 
thod arc  very  clearly  defined.  But  still  the  champion  stays  to  "do 
battle"  with  the  eiToncous  method  of  Locke,  and  to  inquire  if  that 
erroneous  method  did  not  lead  Locke  into  error  in  carrying  out  the 
details  of  his  metaphysical  system. 

Having  tluis  obtained  a  foothold  and  planted  his  engines  of  attack 
within  the  domains  of  Locke,  he  marches  boldly  forward  into  the 
very  heart  of  his  system,  carefully  discriminating  its  part  of  truth 
from  ils  part  of  error.  The  ordeal  into  wliich  the  system  of  Locke 
is  here  thrown  is  too  searching  for  it  to  withstand,  and  it  cruu'liles 
into  pieces  in  the  operation,  ^^'e  would  gladly  trace  out  this  con- 
test to  its  issue  ;  but  our  time  and  space  will  not  permit  us  to  give 
even  a  synopsis  of  its  results. 

It  may  be  proper,  however,  in  passing  to  another  branch  of  the 
subject,  to  remark,  that,  though  tlie  origin  of  ideas  was  agitated 
long  before  Locke,  yet  he  was  the  first  who  made  this  the  iirst  and 
grand  problem  in  philosophy.  And  since  his  time  it  has  been  the 
predominant  method  of  all  his  school.  But  this  can  no  longer  be 
the  method  of  this  science.  Cousin  has  demonstrated  its  absurdity, 
and  endeavored  to  put  it  upon  the  true,  Baconian  method.    And  in  | 

doing  this,  even  if  he  go  no  further,  he  has  done  great  service  to  | 

metai)hysical  science.  | 

We  have  seen  in  oiu:  foregoing  remarks,  that  Cousin  charged  | 

the    system  of  Locke  as  being   pregnant  with  sensualism ;    if  it  | 

did  not,    in  itself,  embody  its  very  essence.     We  are  now  pre-  | 

pared  to  sustain  that  charge  ;  and  we  undertake  to  show,  in  a  few  | 

words,  and  wc  trast  xery  clearly,  that  the  system  of  Locke  is  liable 
to  this  charge  in  ils  full  extent ;  that  it  embodies  the  very  essence 
of  .■sensualism. 

Let  us  bring  the  matter  to  the  test.  Locke,  commencing  with  l!ie 
inquiry  into  the  "  original  of  ideas,"  before  he  had  prescril)cd  their 
cliaraclcrislics,  as  they  exist  in  the  human  intelligence,  claims  that  in 


3-16  Cousin's  Psychology.  [July, 

the  twill  fountain,  sensation  and  rcfleclion,  he  has  discovered  their 
true  "original."  From  these  two  sources,  according  to  his  theory, 
flow  all  the  ideas  which  can  enter  the  human  understanding.  But  let 
us  appeal  to  his  own  language,  b.  ii,  ch.'i,  sec.  2.  Under  the  enun- 
ciation, "  All  ideas  come  from  sensation  or  reflection,"  he  remarks, 
"  These  two  are  the  fountains  of  knowledge,  from  whence  all  the 
ideas  we  have,  or  can  naturaUy  have,  do  spring."  The  same 
statement  is  reiterated  in  several  of  the  succeeding  sections. 

A  new  question  here  necessarily  arises,  namely.  What  are  the 
conditions  under  which  these  two  sources  are  developed?  Are  they 
develo])ed  sinudlaneously  and  independently,  or  is  there  an  order 
of  succession,  and  a  dependence  one  upon  the  other  ?  If  so,  what 
is  that  order  ;  or,  in  other  words,  which  is  subsequent  and  depend- 
ent ?  The  solution  of  these  questions  Locke  gives  with  singular 
assurance  :  "  I  see  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  soul  thinks  before 
the  senses  have  furnished  it  ideas  to  think  on."  And  again,  he 
gives  the  spccilic  and  expressive  enunciation  to  sec.  8,  ch.  i,  b. 
ii,  "  Ideas  of  reflection  later,  because  they  need  attention."  Such 
then  is  tlie  theory  of  Jjocke  with  regard  to  the  "original  of  ideas." 
They  all  spring  from  sensation  and  rcfleclion.  But  without  sensa- 
tion for  its  antecedent,  there  could  be  no  reflection,  because  reflec- 
tion, according  to  Lrckc,  springs  from  and  is  based  upon  its  ante- 
cedent sensation.  1  fence,  though  reflection  is  an  accredited  source 
of  ideas,  it  becomes  such  only  by  virtue  and  in  consequence  of 
sensation,  whicii  thus  becomes  the  fundamental  source  of  all  our 
knowledge.  Here  then  Locke  sets  forth,  clearly  and  distinctly,  the 
doctrine  of  the  mind's  dependence  upon  the  senses  for  its  ideas ;  and 
this,  though  it  is  couched  in  terms  less  objectionable,  is,  in  substance 
and  reality,  sensuali.^m.  The  French  sensualists  took  one  step  fur- 
ther, and  hut  one,  when  they  denied  to  the  mind  any  essential  dis-  \ 
tinctiiess  from  the  body.  Then  followed,  in  easy  and  early  train, 
utter  contempt  and  mockery  of  all  forms  of  religion,  all  faith  in  the 
Bible,  or  Goil,  or  a  licreafter; — then  scenes  of  anarchy,  and  wo, 
and  massacre,  in  which  all  the  restraints  of  virtue  and  truth  were 
thrown  aside,  and  scenes  were  enacted  over  which  humanity  will 
never  cease  to  weep.  Instil  into  the  minds  of  the  people  that  they 
are  brutes,  and  when  they  have  once  given  credence  to  your  doc- 
trine, they  will  nccil  no  further  arpumcnls  to  mduce  them  to  pursue 
a  course  of  action  appropriate  to  the  place  you  have  assigned  them 


jS-il.l  Ccmsi?i's  Fsijchohgi/.  3-17 

in  ihc  scale  of  being.  Here  we  cannot  fail  to  discover  that  nicta- 
jitiysieal  science,  instead  of  being  a  77icre  matter  of  abstract  spccu- 
l;iunn,  )i;\s  an  imporlant  bearing  and  influence  upon  the  cliaracler 
and  conduct  of  the  human  race. 

J  laving  sliown  the  immediate  proximit)'  of  sensualism  and 
Locl;o's  jiliilosophy,  ^ve  will  turn  our  attention  more  critically  to 
.some  of  tiic  characterislics  of  the  "now  philosophy." 

Cousin  professes  to  be  an  eclectic.  Let  us  examine  the  ground 
of  this  claim,  and  the  cliaracterislics  of  his  eclecticism.  3 

Mclcclicism  is  a  word  of  wide  and  varied  application.     It  is  1 

used  to  designate  that  class  of  philosoplicrs,  who  embraced  neither  \ 

of  tlic  prevailing  systems  of  philosophy  as  a  whole,  but  sougiit  to  ' 

e.vlract  from  each  such  principles  and  opinions  as  they  thoiiglit  j 

sound  and  rational.     Such  philosophers  there  have  been  in  every  j 

age.     In  fact,  eclecticism  is  almost  as  old  as  philosophy  itself.     It  | 

gave  character  to  the  Alexandrian  school,  and  was  in  a  flourishing  | 

stale  when  our  Saviom-  was  upon  the  earth.     The  early  eclectics  I 

formed  the  design  of  selecting  from  the  doctrines  of  all  former  phi-  | 

lofoijhers  such  opinions  as  seemed  to  ajiproach  nearest  the  truth,  | 

and  of  combining  tliem  into  one  system.     In  the  second  centiny  | 

the  eclectic  philosophy  was  further  developed  and  perfected  by  the  j 

sect  of  the  Amnionians  or  New  Platonists,  who  also  blended  Chris-  I 

tianity  with  tlicir  philosophy.     From  that  time  to  the  jiresent,  the  | 

."spirit  of  eclecticism  has  been  stirring  on  the  arena  of  pliilosophy.  j 

(See  Watson's  Bib.  Die;  also  Ed.  Enc.  | 

Cousin,  himself,  declares, —  i 

"  Kfloclicism  is  not  of  yesterday.     It  was  born  tlie  moinrnt  that  a  « 

sniiiid  head  and  a  feelini:;  heart  undertook  to  reconcile  two  pa.ssionatc  | 

adversaries,  by  showing  them  that  the  opinions  which  they  combated 
von-  not  irreconcilable  in  themselves,  and  that,  with  a  few  mutual 
sritrifiecs,  they  might  be  brought  together.  Eclecticism  was  long  ago 
ill  tbe  mind  of  Plato;  it  was  Ihe  professed  enterprise,  whether  Icgiti- 
ni.itc  or  not,  of  the  school  of  Alexandria.  Among  the  moderns,  it  was 
not  ()nly  professed  by  I,oibnitz,  but  it  was  constantly  pracdccd  by  him  ; 
and  it  is  everywhere  presented  in  the  rich  historical  views  of  the  new 
German  philosophy."— P/r/oc-  to  the  Translation  of  Tcnncmaii's  Out- 
hncs  of  the  History  of  Philosophy. 

Again,  eclecticism  rejects  no  one  system  as  a  whole.  It  pro- 
fosses  to  discover  some  truth  in  every  system  ;  and  to  this  element 
of  truth  the.  system  owes  its  existence.  It  further  assumes,  as  its 
own  j.eculiar  province,  to  detect  the  truth  in  each,  and  to  separate 


34S  Coi/sin's  Pst/cholng!/.  [July, 

it  from  the  error  in  each  ;  and  so,  bjr  bringing  the  disjected  mem- 
bers of  truth,  found  in  the  different  systems  of  philosophy,  together, 
lo  form  a  new  and  conij)lctc  system,  which  should  embody  no 
clement  of  error,  but  be  absolute  truth.  Such  a  system,  were  it 
possible  to  be  attained,  would  not  inherit  the  frailty  and  error  that 
belongs  to  man.  It  would  be  truth ;  but  truth  is  absolute  and 
immutable,  therefore  our  system  would  be  subject  to  no  change. 
The  speculations  of  no  succeeding  philosopher  coidd  undermi.ne  its 
foundations  ;  and  no  t:orrodii>gs  of  time  could  deface  its  beauty  or 
afl'cct  its  stability. 

Eclcclicism,  then,  has  a  lofty  aim.  It  searches  for  truth  ;  and 
truth,  whenever  and  Vihercver  found,  it  embraces.  It  crouches 
before  the  dogmas  of  no  exclusive,  partial,  and  imperfect  system; 
but  labors  to  concentrate,  in  one  focus  of  brilliancy  and  power,  all 
the  scattered  rays  of  inlcllectual  light  that  m.ay  an\-where  appear. 
This  is  tlic  very  spirit  which  inspires  the  French  philosopher  with 
cnerg)',  vigor,  and  orlginalily  in  his  extended  researclies  ;  and  so 
far  Cousin  is  an  eclectic ;  so  far  he  is  eminently  vrorthy  of  the 
honorable  title  he  courts,  and  the  kiiidredship  of  which  he  is  ambi- 
tious, lie  cliiims  tli.'it  an  entirely  false  system,  or  one  that  contains 
only  error,  is  utterly  impossible.  And  further,  asserts  that  it  is  only 
by  virtue  of  the  truth  which  is  mingled  with  it,  that  error  finds  its 
way  into  the  mind.  Absolute  error  is  inadmissible,  impossible.  It 
exists  only  in  connection  with  and  for  the  sake  of  truth.  Every 
system  has  within  it  a  central  truth,  which  props  it  up  and  imposes 
it  upon  tliC  human  understanding.  And  it  is  in  its  endeavors  lo 
embrace  the  truth  I'lat  tlie  mind  is  duped  into  a  reception  of  th.c 
error. 

Now,  as  v.'c  have  already  remarked,  it  is  the  province  of  the 
eclectic  philos(.phy  tf>  search  out  the  central  truth  of  each  system 
and  dcsccatc  it  from  the  mass  of  commingled  truth  and  error.  AVe 
come  now  lo  the  severest  test  of  eclecticism.  In  what  manner, 
and  by  virtue  of  what  shall  we  determine  what  is  truth  and  v.hat  is 
error  iii  the  various  systems  that  come  imder  our  observation  ?  In 
a  word,  what  shall  be  the  "method"  of  our  investigation?  What 
shall  satisfy  and  limit  our  rcscarcli  ?  Where  is  to  be  found  our 
standard,  our  test  of  universal  truth  ?  The  right  determination  of 
these  questions  has  ever  been  the  grand  obstacle  in  tlie  way  of 
eclecticism.     Here  is  tijc  rock  on  which  it  has  too  often  split. 


1811.]  Cousin's  Psychology.  319 

Here  lie  concealed  ihe  quicksands  in  which  arc  deeply  bLuicd  the 
^\TCcks  of  loo  many  eclectic  systems.  They  stand  as  beacon  ligiits 
to  warn  the  fiiliu-c  eclectic  that  the  part  truth  and  llic  part  error, 
instead  of  the  pure  truth,  is  too  likely  to  be  obtained.  And  tliat 
these,  when  brought  together,  form  only  another  system  of  error 
and  truth — a  system  partaking  of  all  the  frailty  of  the  nature  of 
man,  and  marking  the  finitude  of  his  capacity. 

"  Jlcthod,"  the  "  true  method,"  is  of  as  deep  and  vital  importance 
in  eclecticism  as  in  empyricism.  An  error  in  the  "method"  or 
course  of  investigation,  in  either,  will  be  a  fundamental  error,  and 
jircjndice  the  whole  course  of  subsequent  investigation.  But  true 
eclecticism  has  a  method ;  and  so  far  as  I  can  comprelicnd  its  Iriio 
order,  it  seems  to  be  thus  : — First,  To  analyze  each  and  every 
system  with  the  closest  scrutiny,  to  apply  to  each  tlie  just  principles 
of  rational  criticism,  to  bring  in  every  collateral  fact,  every  possible 
test,  found  in  consciousness,  in  reason,  in  sense,  and  in  observation ; 
and  then  to  commence  its  process  of  comparison,  to  compare  the 
discovered,  developed,  and  exalted  truth  found  in  each  system  with 
find  fc;und  in  the  otiicr,  and  both  these  with  some  immutable,  abso- 
lute standard.  The  true  luethod  in  eclecticism,  then,  is  first  one 
of  analysis,  and  tlien  one  of  comparison ;  in  both  of  which  opera- 
tions there  must  be  some  immutable  standard  to  which  the  ultimate 
apjieal  must  be  made.  It  is  a  standard  not  discovered  in  the 
analysis,  not  developed  in  the  comparison.  It  grows  not  out  of 
the  collision  of  any  system  or  systems.  It  is  not  weighing  sen- 
sualism by  idealism,  and  then  idealism  by  skepticism,  6cc.  This 
process,  even  according  to  the  admissions  of  eclecticism  itself, 
woidd  be  weighing  each  system  in  a  false  balance.  A  hopeless 
v,'ay,  truly,  to  the  discovery  of  the  real  merit  of  either.  Weighed 
in  a  false  balance,  every  rcstdt  would  necessarily  partake  more  or 
less  of  error ;  and  the  aggregate  of  results  thus  obtained  be  only 
a  complication  of  more  subtle  and  abstruse  errors.  | 

It  remains  now  to  inquire  whether  the  eclecticism  of  him  v.'ho  I 

has  refuted  the  errors  of  Locke,  and  carried  war  into  the  very  heart  j 

of  the  old  systems  of  philosophy,  has  been  steered  clear  of  those  | 

dangerous  shoals  and  quicksands.  Let  us  see  whether  he  who  has 
so  successfully  combated  the  erroneous  method  of  Locke,  and  uiili 
suHi  accuracy  and  spirit  pointed  out  "the  true  method"  in  phil.>- 
sophy,  has  committed  no  error  in  "  method"  in  the  application  of 


350  Coiisiri's  Fsijchohgy.  [Juljr, 

his  peculiar  eclecticism.     But  on  tliis  subject,  \vc  will  let  Cousin 
speak  for  himself. 

"  I  have  loved  to  rejical,"  .sayt;  he,  "  that  each  of  these  schools  has 
existed,  therefore  there  was  .sonic  reason  or  ground  for  the  existence 
of  each.  If  these  scliools  liad  been  purely  absurd  and  extravaL'ant, 
they  could  not  have  existed ;  for  the  absurd,  by  itself,  could  have  found 
neither  place  nor  credit  in  the  human  mind,  nor  could  it  ever  have 
gained  reputation  or  acquired  authority  in  any  age,  still  less  in  an  age 
so  enlightened  as  the  eighteenth  century.  Hence,  from  the  simple 
fact  that  the  sensual  seliunl  has  existed,  it  follows  that  it  had  a  reason 
for  existing,  that  it  po.ssessed  some  element  of  truth.  But  there  were 
four  schools,  and  nul  lucrcly  one.  Now,  absolute  truth  is  one  ;  if  one 
of  these  schools  lind  possessed  absolute  truth,  there  would  have  been 
only  that  one  school,  and  not  four.  They  are,  therefore  there  is  a 
reason  for  their  being,  and  they  contain  some  truth ;  but  they  are  four, 
therefore  neither  contains  the  whole  truth  entire,  but  each  of  them, 
■with  an  element  of  trutli  v.hich  has  caused  it  to  exist,  contains  some 
element  of  error,  wliich  reduces  it  to  exist  only  as  a  particular  school. 
It  was  my  duty,  then,  at  once  to  vindicate  and  combat  all  these  schools. 
I  was  to  vindicate  the  sensual  school  as  having  had  its  part  of  truth  ; 
and  I  was  to  combat  it,  as  having  blended  with  the  part  of  truth,  which 
reeoinmcnded  it,  many  errors  and  extravagances.  And  in  what  way, 
with  what  was  1  to  comliat  the  school  of  sensation  ?  I  promised  you 
to  combat  the  errors  of  one  seliool  liv  the  truth  of  its  antagonist  school. 
1  was  to  combat  the  ('x;iei,'eratiuns  of  sensualism  by  all  that  was  sound 
and  reasonable  in  idealism.  This  I  have  done.  At  a  future  day  I 
shall  take  up  the  spirittud  school ;  I  shall  examine  it  in  its  positive 
elements,  and  then  I  shall  turn  against  it,  against  its  sublime  errors 
and  myslic:il  leni'.eiuies,  the  weapons  which  the  good  sense  of 
empyrieir-m  and  -  Ij  'I'leism  will  frequently  furnish."- — Histoire  de  la 
Phiiosuphic,  vol.  ii,  ),.  5j3;   Psychuhgy,  p.  317. 

Hero  wo  have  developed  a  method — the  method  adopted  bj^ 
Cousin  in  the  application  of  iiis  peculiar  eclecticism.  And  not 
only  so,  but  wc  liavc  the  fundamental  reason  of  that  method,  the 
fulcrum  on  which  tlic  lever  is  planted.  He  says, — "  If  either  of 
these  scliools  possessed  absolute  trnllt,  tiicre  would  have  been  only 
tliat,  and  not  four."  Again, — "  They  are  four,  therefore  neither 
contains  the  wliolc  tnuli."  These  propositions  are  ^vide  and  ex- 
pansive ;  and  admittinL;  their  truth  and  pertinency,  v/e  can  have  no 
difficully  in  admitting  also  the  summarj'-  process  of  battering  down 
sensualism  by  idealism,  and  then  idealism  by  skepticism,  &c.,  till 
fi-om  this  war  of  systems,  another  system,  like  the  Corintliian  /Es, 
formed  hy  the  fusion  of  many  metals,  should  come  forth  radiant 
througliout  with  tiulli.  But  to  these  sweeping  propositions  wo 
have  an  objection  to  propose.     Now,  can  it  be  made  to  appear  by 


1  SI  1.1  Col/Shi's  PstjcJioIogij.  351 

any  j"--^t  course  of  reasoning,  because  there  were  four  systems,  lliat 
a!l  of  llicin  inusl  partake  more  or  less  of  error  ?  All  of  llicin,  it  is 
true,  if  llicy  conflict,  cannot  be  absolute  truth ;  but  docs  it,  of 
Di-cessiiy,  follow  that  all  must  contain  error,  that  all  must  be  false? 
ISut  so  liave  we  learned  philosophy.  If  four  witnesses  stand  up 
and  give  conflicting  testimony  in  a  court  of  justice,  docs  it  follow 
that  no  one  among  them  speaks  "the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 
iiotliing  but  the  truth?"  We  admit  .that  each  of  these  schools  liad 
its  part  of  error  and  its  part  of  truth,  but  on  different  grounds  and 
fur  a  different  reason  than  that  given  above.  Merely  because  sen- 
sualism existed,  we  do  not  feel  authorized  to  draw  the  conclusion 
that  the  ideal  system  is  not  absolute  truth.  This  must  be  learned 
from  an  examination  of  the  system  itself,  and  testing  it  b)--  the 
inunulublc  principles  of  truth  and  reason  already  in  the  human 
mind. 

Now  if  two  philosophical  systems  exist,  which  are  contradictory 
to  each  otlicr,  we  infer  that  both  cannot  be  true*  that  -one  of  thcni 
7!nisi  possess  some  part  of  error,  and  j^crliaps  both  do  ;  else  there 
would  be  no  antagonism,  for  truth  cannot  antagonize  with  truth. 
It  becomes,  then,  the  trae  business  of  philosophy,  by  a  critical 
examination  and  analysis  of  each  system,  to  ascertain  where  the 
error  lies — whether  in  both — and,  if  not  in  both,  in  which  system, 
— and  also  in  what  particular  part  of  each.  If  sensualism,  then,  is 
all  truth,  it  follows  that  idealism  is  not  all  truth ;  but  it  docs  not 
follow  tliat  idealism  contains  no  element  of  ti-uth. 

Here  we  discover  the  first  departure  of  Cousin  from  the  true 
sy.stcm  of  eclectical  philosophy;  his  frrst  aberration  from  the  "true 
method."  The  ground  here  assumed  is  tnily  "  vantage  ground  ;" 
anil  the  "  method"  of  warfare  to  which  it  leads  unique  ;  for  it 
piiablos  him  to  1\un  the  weapons  of  his  adversaries  against  each 
other.  Here  then  is  his  "  method" — "  to  combat  the  errors  of  each 
school,  with  the  truths  of  the  antagonist  school.  I'o  combat  the 
mors  of  sensualism  by  all  that  is  just  and  reasonable  in  idealism," 
kVc.  Tin's  method,  or  mode  of  philosophical  warfare,  does  not  even 
recognize  what  must  ever  be  a  primary  element  in  any  true  system 
of  eclecticism.  For  what  is  it  but  first  being  an  idealist  for  the 
.=  ikc  of  combating  sensualism,  and  then  a  skeptic  till  alike  office  is 
JT  rfi.rnied  for  idealism  ?  And  it  is  in  accordance  with  thi.s  tendency 
of  Ins  m.Mhod,  that  wc  fmd  Cousin  wavering  in  the  lofty  imncijilcs 


352  Cousin^s  Psychologij.  [July, 

of  liis  eclecticism,  and  fulling  ujioii  the  shambles  of  sensualism, 
idealism,  skepticism,  ov  mysticism,  just  as  lie  may  happen  to  de- 
termine each  particular  question.  "  Combat  the  errors  of  one 
school  by  the  truths  of  its  antagonist  school !"  Now  this  is  all 
very  well  on  one  condition,  and  that  is,  that  we  commence  with 
truth,  and  not  with  error ;  tliat  wc,  in  some  one  system,  shall  first 
separate  its  part  of  truth  from  its  part- of  error.  For  since  iTuth 
cannot  antagonize  with  truth,  it  will  then  follow  that  whatever  we 
fnid  in  any  otiier  system,  antagonist  to  our  discovered  truth,  must 
be  error,  and  therefore  ought  to  be  rejected.  But  how  are  we  to 
gel  at  this  truth,  unless  by  virtue  of  some  more  interior  and  decisive 
princijili'  tiian  lias  been  here  recognized  ?  Where  is  our  standard 
by  which  we  may  know  that  we  are  not  bringing  the  errors  of 
idealism  into  iliis  contest  with  sensualism?  Let  us  ajiply  this 
inelliod  : — 'I'lie  truths  of  sensualism  are  to  be  reached,  the  system 
is  to  be  luibliinatcd,  its  ore  and  alloy  to  be  cast  away.  How  shall 
it  be  done  ?  ^V'hat  is  the  process  ?  Shall  we  combat  the  system 
with  liic  truths  of  idealism  ?  But  idealism  is  not  all  true.  How 
then  rue  its  truths  to  be  extracted  from  its  errors?  Whore  is  the 
iui)j)iic  that  is  to  decide  what  is  truth  in  idealism,  that  we  may  turn 
that  truth  against  the  errors  of  sensualism  ?  Without  some  high 
and  autlioritativc  umpire,  eclecticism  becomes  speculation,  nor 
can  science  expect  much  real  advancement  from  its  operations. 
So  long  as  error  may  be  blended  with  and  become  imbedded  in 
partial  initli,  just  so  long  may  this  method  of  conflicting  system 
with  system  be  carried  on,  unless  upon  the  arena  of  philosophy 
some  sagr.  should  api)Car  to  give  practical  evidence  of  "  the  infinite 
perfectibility  of  humanity,"  in  the  exhibitions  of  his  own  intellect. 
Again,  wo  repeal  of  this  S3'-stcm  or  "  method,"  it  is  radically  de- 
ficient. It  is  utterly  averse  to  the  Baconian  method  of  investiga- 
tion. It  is  not  a  careful  induction  of  general  principles,  which  may 
be  combineil  into  a  complete  and  perfect  system,  from  particular 
truths  which  come  under  the  direct  cognizance  of  our  intellectual 
faculties,  and  arc  addressed  to  individual  consciousness.  And,  it 
is  marvelous  that  so  able  a  refuter  of  Locke,  so  able  an  expounder 
of  the  "  true  method"  in  philosophy,  should  so  soon  have  fallen 
upon  the  shoals  and  quicksands  of  philosophical  speculation. 

We  have  not  time   now   to  return   and  trace  out  "  tlie  critical 
examination  of  the  Essay  upon  tlie  Human  Understanding"  into  its 


ISll.]  Cousin's  Psijchohgy.  353  , 

results.     But  \YC  would  remark  that  the  cmjjiricism  of  Locke  in  \ 

this  conflict  receives  a  signal  discomfiture  :  no  system,  it  is  true,  is  j 

wielded  at;;iiiist  it ;  but  that  wliicli  is  infinitely  more  powerful,  ihc  | 

jirnieijiles  of  inalienable  reason  and  good  sense.  | 

V>u{  there  is  one  thing  for  which  Cousin,  as  we  have  already  | 

remarked,  deserves  great  credit;  and  that  is,  the  elevation  he  is  | 

aiviiig  to  the  character  of  metaphysical  science  in  France.     It  is  | 

well  known  that  the  philosoph)'-  of  France  has,  for  some  time,  been  | 

essentially  infidel :  the  philosophy  of  Locke  bordered  hard  upon  | 

the  inner  temple  of  sensualism ;  and  from  sensualism  to  material-  I 

isin,  and  tlience  to  deism  and  rank  atheism,  the  descent  is  gradual,  | 

but  rdmost  unavoidable.     Such  undoubtedly  is  the  downward  ten-  f 

dcncy  of  the  ]iliilosophy  of  Locke  ;  but  ycX  Locke  was  a  Chrislian,  | 

or  rather,  as  Cousin  says,  "  upon  the  limits  of  Christianity."     This  | 

tendency  of  his  principles,  though  Locke  himself,  perhaps,  did  not 
discover  it,  was  early  discovered  and  promptly  met  by  the  Scotcli 
jiliilosophers,  Reid,  Stewart,  and  Brown ;  but  in  France  no  such 
antidote  checked  its  progi-ess,  and  French  philosophy,  in  company 
wuh  French  morals,  sunk  into  one  common  maclstroom  of  infidelity. 
Such  was  the  fruit  of  Locke's  philosophy  in  France ;  and  with 
Voltaire  for  its  patron,  and  Condillac,  Helvetius,  and  D'HoUiacli 
for  its  expounders,  we  cannot  wonder  at  the  result.  The  revolu- 
tion in  the  sjiirit  of  French  philosophy,  it  is  true,  was  commenced 
by  Roger  Collard,  and  Jouffroy,  his  pupil ;  but  it  was  reserved  for 
Cousin  to  push  forward  the  conflict  to  its  present  auspicious  stage. 
lie  stands  conspicuous  in  the  field,  raid  stands,  too,  like  a  giiuit 
still  girded  for  the  contest.  All  his  works  that  have  come  wilhin 
my  reach  have  been  read  with  increasing  interest  and  avidity.  His 
unsurjiassed,  if  not  unequalled  power  of  critical  analysis,  his  inde- 
))cndcncc  as  a  philosopher,  his  comprehensive  and  accurate  know- 
ledge of  the  historjr  of  philosophy  and  of  philosophical  systems,  the 
sjiiritcd  and  elevated  style  in  which  he  discourses,  command  my 
admiration ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  his  ingenuousness,  the  freedom 
with  which  he  acknowledges  the  real  excellences  of  those  whose 
errors  he  is  called  to  expose  and  refute,  inspire  in  me  sentiments 
of  the  highest  possible  esteem  for  the  man,  in  whom  is  blended  so 
many  of  tlie  virtues  that  give  dignity  to  the  philosopher,  and  honor 
to  luiir.aii  nature.  I  can  only  hope  for  Cousin  that  he  may  do  for 
llic  mctnphysical  philosoi^hy  of  France,  v.hat  Reid  and  Stewart 


351  Translation  from  rrofcssor  TlwlucTi.  [July, 

have  already  done  for  tli.it  of  England  and  America.  Cousins 
philosophy  is  also  becoming  extensively  known  and  as  cxlcnsivcly 
admired  in  this  counlry;  and  the  author  of  these  fragmentary 
tlioughls  will  not  esteem  his  labor  lost  if  they  shall  be  the  means 
of  directing  any  to  a  mine  so  replete  willi  knowledge  and  trutl). 
Amcnia,  N.  Y.,  ISll. 


AiiT.  III. — Translation  from  Professor  ThoJuck. 

TiiK  author  of  tlic  following  piece  (Professor  Tholuck,  of  Halle) 
is  already  favorably  known  to  the  American  public  as  a  Christian  | 

and  scliolar  ;  and  as  Imvirig  borne  in  our  age  an  active  and  influential  | 

part  in  the  revival   of  evangelical  religion  throughout  Germany.  | 

Tiic  unhappy  infidel  tendency  of  the  close  of  the  last  and  tlie  be-  | 

ginnhig  of  tlic  present  century  was  not  confmcd  to  France.     The  I 

Ciiristian  world  everywhere  felt  it  more  or  less  ;  and  while  France  | 

was  its  mainhokl,  wlierc  it  exhibited  its  direst  effects,  and  most  | 

revolting  fruit:?,  yet  the  form  that  it  assumed  among  Germans,  by  | 

courting  an  alliance  with  their  learning  and  industrj^  was  more  s 

dangerous.     As  it  did  not  there,  as  in  France,  banish  the  church,  | 

and  as  the  union  of  church  and  state  is  so  intimate  as  to  affect,  \ 

more  or  less,  men's  fortunes  in  all  departments  of  life,  it  naturally 
became  an  infidelity  in  tlie  church — and  while  all  men  were  in  its 
pale,  it  was  not  uncommon  to  find  theological  professors  and 
ministers  of  the  altar  disowning  every  essential  doctrine  of  the 
Bible — indeed,  denying  revelation  itself.  The  strange  anomaly 
was  presented  of  a  Christian  people  rejecting  Christ.  The  moral 
decencies  of  life  were  the  only  duties  acknowledged  by  the  mass, 
and  too  often  tliesc  were  sliamcfiilly  neglected. 

But  it  is  one  of  the  pleasing  fruits  of  the  passing  century  that 
•  this  malign  religious  iullucnce  has  year  by  year  been  sensibly 
wearing  out.  Under  Bonaparte  matters  had  already  somewJiat 
improved ;  but  especially  since  liis  fall,  and  the  return  to  Europe 
of  peace,  commerce,  and  prosperity,  lias  the  advancement  of  tlie  ! 

interests  of  true  religion  and  true  learning  been  rapid.     For  fifteen  .] 

or  twenty  years  Professor  TJiohick  has  been  a  prominent  assistant 
in  this  revival  of  evangelical  principles.     By  his  books,  and  largely 


]W1.]  Translation  from  Professor  ThohicJc.  355 

as  ]irofcssor  of  tlicolog)',  by  his  influence  upon  stiulcnta  annually 
npciiing  into  ministers,  has  he  been  instrumental  in  redeeming 
jiiety  from  the  odium  into  which  it  had  fallen,  and  shaking  the 
iiilhieiicc  of  rationalism,  which  for  a  long  time  had  been  triumjiliaiit. 
At  liim,  perhaps  more  than  at  any  other  individual,  have  the  attacks 
of  the  opposite  party  been  directed.  This  contest  lias  issued  in  as 
^ii^ial  defeat  to  his  opponents  as  the  most  happy  disciphne  of 
Christian  character  in  liimself.  In  the  cause  of  Christ,  there  have 
been  also  many  other  able  and  amiable  men,  of  whom  it  is  not  our 
j>rcscnl  purpose  to  speak.  Through  their  united  influence,  with  llic 
blessing  of  Heaven,  the  cause  of  holiness  for  the  last  few  years  lias 
become  strong — it  gives  all  indications  that  it  is  in  the  ascendant— 
and  the  world  has  yet  much  good  to  expect  from  the  Gennan  Church. 

The  piece  here  offered  to  the  English  reader  was  among  Pro- 
fessor Thohick's  early  pubhcations.  Perhaps,  in  its  abridged  form, 
the  transitions  in  the  course  of  thought  and  illustration  may  not 
always  appear  easy. 

llandvlph  Macon  College,  Va.,  March  15,  1811. 


Apologetical  Hints  for  the  Study  of  the  Old  Testament.    Trans- 
lated and  abridged  from  the  German  of  Professor  A.  Tholvck. 

In  the  last  ten  years  the  error  lias  almost  universally  spread 

itself,  as  well  in  the  theological  world  as  elsewhere,  that  the  study  \ 

of  the  Old  Testament  for  theologians,  and  the  reading  of  the  same  | 

by  liic  lait)'-  for  the  purpose  of  edification,  arc  cither  wholly  unnc-  ; 

ccss;iry,  or  but  little  beneficial.     With  especial  reference  to  thco-  \ 

iouians,  we  will  at  present  cursorily  develop,  1st.  How  important  | 

the  study  of  the  Old  Tcslxunent  loould  be,  even  thovgh  it  had  no  i 

connection  viilh  the  New.    2d.  Hotu  deep  and  wisely  founded  icere  | 

the  institutes  of  the  Israelites  and  the  divine  dispensation  toward  | 

them.     3d.  How  the  New  Testament  entirely  rests  vpon  the  Old,  \ 

and  how  Christ  is  the  kernel  of  all  the  Old  Testament.  \ 

As  this  our  undertaking  has  invited  the  attention  of  profound  men  | 
of  all  age.s,  much  that  is  good  has  already  been  said  on  the  subject 
by  others,  so  that  the  main  design  of  this  composition  cannot  be  to 
fiivc  much  that  is  new,  but  to  present  only  that  wliich  is  called  for 
by  the  condition  of  our  age. 


356  Translation  from  Professor  Tliohick.  [July, 

I.  How  far  do  the  hooks  of  the  Old  Testament  deserve  a  diligent 
studi/,  even-  if  tliey  were  ?iot  connected  loith  Christianity  1 

If  stahiUty  is  praiscwortliy  as  a  great  disiinclion  in  an  individual 
man,  it  is  111  a  double  degree  so  in  a  whole  people.  Joscpluis 
says,  {Contra  Ap.,)  "  Were  our  nation  not  known  to  all  men,  and 
were  mankind  not  gencrall}'  acquainted  with  our  voluntar}-  subjec- 
tion to  the  law,  and  should  a  person  describe  and  represent  oui- 
institutions  to  the  Greeks,  or  say,  that  out  of  the  limits  of  the 
known  world,  he  had  met  with  a  people  that  had  so  sublime  con- 
ceptions of  God,  and  for  so  many  centuries  had  remained  true  to 
the  same  laws,  ihcy  would  be  altogether  astonished,  since  among 
themselves  they  know  nothing  but  perpetual  change." 

Variety  and  cliange  create  vivacity,  an  objector  will  reply,  and 
on  account  of  this  very  vivacity  is  the  Greek  nation  to  be  considered 
great  and  exalted,  while  the  whole  East  from  the  remotest  times 
to  the  present  languislics.  But  a  mere  busy  activity  of  the  mind 
w-ithout  object  (which  the  Persian  Dschelaleddin  compares  to  the 
constant  flow  of  a  stream)  cannot  be  the  end  of  life.  If  the  truth 
is  once  found,  it  is  useless  to  be  ever  seelung  it  anew ;  and  hence 
the  npostlc  of  the  Gentiles  gives  the  most  striking  picture  of  all 
licatliens,  bolli  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  when  he  says,  "  They 
are  ever  learning,  and  never  able  to  com.e  to  the  jcnowlcdgc  of  the 
truth,"  2  Tim.  iii,  7.  The  Hebrews  had  a  worship  of  God,  whicli, 
as  we  shall  sec,  salisficd  the  requirements  of  an  humble  mind,  but 
one  not  yet  arrived  at  high  intellectuality.  To  this  they  remained 
true,  according  to  this  they  fashioned  their  whole  life  ;  and  hence 
Josephus  can  rightly  say,  "  It  can  be  no  reproach  to  us,  that  we 
have  discovered  nothing  new,  but  it  affords  this  testimony,  that  we 
needed,  nothing  hcltcry  "  What  can  one  think  of  more  beautiful," 
continues  this  sagacious  man,  "  than  a  wdiole  people,  whose  entire 
government  resembles  a  general  religious  festival  ?  WTiile  other 
nations  can  hold  tlicir  feasts  and  mysteries  scarcely  a  few  days 
together,  we  celebrate  our  religious  precepts  without  change  from 
century  to  ccntur)-."  If  now  sucli  a  continuance  in  established 
institutions,  i^prings  not  from  the  cncnation  or  ossification  of  a 
people,  it  is  something  truly  sublime.  The  praise  of  Sparta,  in- 
deed, resounds  in  history,  because  she  was  able  for  several  centu- 
ries to  remain  faithful  to  the  brazen  laws  of  Lycurgus.  But  who 
can  accuse  the  Israelites  of  enervation,  who,  without  unity  in  the 


1811.1  Translalirm  from  Professor  Thobirh.  357 

limo  of  t!ic  jiulgos,  flourishing  in  the  splendid  period  of  a  David  or 
SoIdihoh,  split  and  at  enmity  under  the  kings,  trodden  down  by 
CMi-inies  during  the  Babylonish  captivity,  and  under  the  Maccabees 
preserving  with  heroic  power  their  ancient  lienor — passed  through 
ail  till',  catastrophes  wliich  nations  suffer.  At  the  time  of  Christ 
til.  ir  wc.-ikness  and  decline  are  not  to  be  mistaken,  but  then  even 
."■■ii.-iiriiiiiig  unusual  occurred.  Friglitfully  did  the  remaining  power 
CdMvulso  ilscif  when  the  ruins  of  Jerusalem  buried  tlie  antiquated 
yaiieiuary  now  stripped  of  meaning;  as  once  at  Nineveh  the 
Miiuldcring  palace  overvvhelmed  the  effeminate  Sardanapalus,  and 
wi'li  him  the  fallen  gloiy  of  Assyria.  Instructive  must  it  therefore 
be  to  become  acquainted  with  the  source  of  this  iron  constancy  of 
temper,  which  long  ago  the  Greek  HecatKres  Abderila  acknow- 
lcd.:^ed  and  admired  in  this  people. 

If  cmc  now  asks  bow  the  Spartan  state  became  what  it  was,  and 
if  lie  1)C  forced  to  answer  the  question  bj-  showing  that  ambition 
anil  unchecked  haughtiness  were  the  nurses  of  the  Spartan  con- 
.^'lilution,  and  that  Lycurgus  endeavored  to  augment  the  hardness 
of  cliaracter  natural  to  tlie  Doric  tribe,  and  founded  the  greatness 
of  ihe  citizens  of  Sparta  upon  the  brutal  degradation  of  the  Lace- 
demonians, the  legitimate  inhabitants  of  the  land ;  the  Hebrew 
people  will  then  exhibit  themselves  in  a  light  ])roportionably  tlie 
more  beautiful  as  the  following  words  of  Joscphus  are  true  : — 
"  That  our  legislation  was  by  far  more  useful  than  all  others,  must 
undoubtedly  be  regarded  as  the  cause  of  our  unchangeable  faith  in 
('c<I  and  his  commandments.  For  Moses  did  not  make  picit/  a 
pari  ofinrtuc,  but  all  virtues  he  rnade  parts  of  tlie  fear  of  God, 
by  allributing  to  all  our  actions  a  reference  to  God."  And  no  im- 
partial historian  will  deny  that  in  just  this  constant  reference  of  all 
events  to  God  lay  the  source  of  the  great  power  of  the  Israelites  : 
.'^incc  limes,  when  the  fear  of  God  was  extinguished,  mostly  failed 
in  firnt  and  manly  characters,  Avhich  are  the  products  only  of  a 
fmuidation  in  God. 

Next  to  the  stability  of  the  Hebrew  people,  is  their  antiquity 
(already  tlie  subject  of  much  praise)  worthy  of  our  respect.  More 
tl>;ui  six  hundred  years  before  Lycurgus,  Moses  gives  his  lav.s; 
.six  hundred  years  before  Pindar,  the  king  of  the  Hebrews  coni- 
)'( ;-rs  his  divine  Psalms.  Moreover,  three  hundred  years  before 
i!ic  mythic  heroes,  Orpheus,  Hercules,  and  Theseus,  go  against 

Vol.  I.— 23 


358  Translation  from  Professor  Tlioliick.  [July, 

Colchis,  Moses  founds  liis  divinely  wise  theocracy.  If  the  antiquity 
of  the  Pentateuch  be  not  allowed,  still  the  historical  facts  arc  certain. 
But  the  antiquity  of  the  PciUatcuch  is  not  called  in  question  by 
historical  inquirers,  but  only  b}'  theologians  who  are  displeased 
with  its  rcjircscnuuion  of  miracles.  It  is  with  the  most  remote 
antiquity,  as  witli  cliildliood.  "  Tola  ilia  ffitas  pcriit  diluvio,  sicut 
infantiam  mcrgcre  solel  oblivio,"  says  St.  Augustine.  We  know 
but  little  of  it,  but  what  tradition  preserved  out  of  the  primitive 
age,  Moses  has  given  us  much  clearer  than  the  confused  fables  of 
Greeks,  Egyptians,  Hindoos,  or  Chinese.  Allow  that  which  Moses 
takes  from  the  period  before  the  patriarchs  to  belong  to  a  dark 
region,  where  much  disfiguration  has  taken  place,  yet  no  one  can  deny 
the  great  truths  wliich  llic  chapters  on  the  creation  and  fall  contain, 
and  no  one  can  mistake  the  truly  historical  representation  which 
the  history  of  tlic  patriarchs  exhibits.  Let  us  begin  with  the  his- 
tory of  Abraham.  Who  can  dare  assert  that  after  a  thousand  or 
si.xtecn  hundred  years,  when  everything  had  changed,  some  person 
fell  upon  the  invention  of  tlic  expedition  of  the  five  kings  against 
Sodom,  in  the  narrative  of  which  every  thing  portrays  the  people 
of  thai  age  ?  Pits  of  asjiliallum,  and  the  crust  of  the  earth,  con- 
sumed by  asphallnm,  hinder  ihe  flight  of  the  Sodomites,  while  they 
sink  through  the  thin  surface.  Fugitives  come  over  the  mountains 
of  Judea,  and  enter  tlie  grove  where  Abrahanr  has  his  tent,  and 
give  him  information.  Three  hundred  and  eighteen  servants 
accompany  Abralianr — llirce  allies  are  with  him — on  their  return 
ihey  are  hospitably  received  by  the  priestly  king  of  Salem — pre- 
sents are  exchanged.  How  truly  antique  and  historical  is  all  this  ! 
Would  not  all  this  in  the  annals  of  any  other  people  be  acknow- 
ledged as  histor)'  ?  If  one  will  not  allow  the  genuineness  of  Ossiau 
because  in  him  mention  is  made  of  ships  at  a  time  when  the  Cale- 
donians had  only  boats,  Avovcn  of  willows  and  covered  with  oxhides ; 
becau.sc  chimneys  are  mentioned  among  a  people  that  had  scarcely 
huts ;  because  the  hunted  deer  is  spoken  of  where  Martial  says, 
"Nuda  Caledonia  sic  pcctora  pra^chidit  iirso  ;"  why  shall  not  this 
rust  of  antiquity — this  childlike  simplicity  of  manners — be  admitted 
as  an  evidence  for  the  authenticity  of  Moses  and  the  patriarchal 
history?  Abr.iliant  avails  himself  of  deceit,  not  to  tell  a  falsehood, 
but  to  conceal  the  truth  ;  (for  Sarai  was  also  his  sister;)  Rebecca 
deceives  old  Isaac  ;  Jacob  increases  his  own  flock  to  Laban's  dis 
23* 


l^H.]  Translation  from.  Professor  Tholuclc.  359 

fiilvaiil^igc :  llicso  things  the  Tindals  and  Celsuscs  of  every  age 
liavc  hroiiglil  forward  against  the  character  of  the  Bible  ;  but  tlie 
coiisiaiU  roply  is,  Is  not  this  an  evidence  of  the  inlogrity  of  tlie 
narrator  ?  Only  reflect,  lohat  did  not  an  interpolator  have  atnple 
oj!i>ortuniti/  tu  inlcnueave  for  the  adorning  of  the  story  1  Sclilazer 
«i:iys,  ill  his  History  of  the  World,  "  The  Jews  are  a  leading  people 
of  the  vorld,  not  only  as  the  people  of  God  in  ecclesiastical  history, 
hut  a  powerful  nation,  which,  at  the  period  of  its  greatness,  con- 
sisted of  more  than  five  millions  of  souls  ;  a  cultivated  people,  the 
depository  of  all  the  knowledge  we  have  of  that  oldest  state  of  the 
world  before  the  existence  of  the  more  modem  Greeks."  Of  these 
modern  Greeks  Joscphus  speaks  beautifully :  "  I  am  astonislied 
that  men  think,  they  must  in  old  matters  trust  the  Greeks,  but  not 
us  and  other  men.  I  believe,  however,  that  if  men  would  not 
follow  idle  opinions,  but  search  out  the  truth  of  things,  they  must 
pur.suc  the  exactly  opposite  course  ;  because  among  the  Greeks 
every  thing  is  new,  as  it  were  of  to-day  or  yesterday — the  foun- 
dation of  states,  the  estahlishmcnt  of  trades  and  legislation,  and 
latest  of  all,  their  historical  writings." 

If  wc  now  consider  the  spirit  that  breatlies  in  this  old  liistor}', 
we  will  find  everywhere  the  idea  of  divinity  (sensus  Numenis) 
most  lively.  Diodorus  Siculus  calls  historians  the  servants  of 
Providence.  Lessing  says,  "  0  Providence  !  let  me  not  doubt  thy 
existence,  because  I  cannot  scan  thy  way  !"  In  the  world's  history 
retributive  justice  (Nemesis)  stands  powerfully  dominant,  and  even 
a  Plato  exclaims,  "Divinity  measures  all,"  (6  eroj  -avra  yeu/uTpei.) 
In  the  hi.storj'  of  the  Hebrews,  indeed,  this  presiding  divinity 
(pr;cMiis  Numcn)  exhibits  himself  not  only  as  a  dim  and  unknown 
aveiiijcr  of  wrong,  but  rcucals  himself  as  an  absolute  God,  i.  c.,  an 
imlcjicndent-ft^tl,  wlio,  in  the  face  of  his  creatures,  with  a  wise 
and  uncontrolled  power  creates  and  destroys.  Philo  says,  "  In 
the  creatures  the  Greeks  have  forgotten  the  Creator.  So  the  his- 
torians, who  are  without  God  in  the  world,  have  forgotten,  and  yet 
forgca,  that  God  is  over  and  in  the  world,  disposing  all  things.  They 
miss  of  recognizing  that  breath,  which,  through  the  wire-work  of 
the  bones,  sets  the  wandering  skeleton  in  motion."*    If  Herodotus, 

*  1  Icnl.-r  fays, "  Ilislory  without  the  Spirit  of  God  is  an  imago  of  Polyphemus 
vinilir.  eye  put  out."  In  Bancroft's  History  of  the  United  States,  third  vohiiiic, 
arc  tuiiic  uxccIJmit  remarks  on  tliis  true  idea  of  history. — TransUlor. 


360  Translat'wn  from  Professor  llioluck.  [July, 

who  nowhere  forgets  the  hand  which  out  of  eternity  talces  a  hold 
in  time,  moves  us,  liow  much  more  important  is  it  for  us  to  see  tiic 
God  who  is  "  the  possessor  of  heaven  and  earth,"  (as  i\Ielchiscdck 
called  him,  Gen.  xiv,  10,)  acting  a  part  in  the  history  of  the  Hebrews! 
Justice  (Adraslea)  as  a  winged  goddess  appears  in  the  histories  of 
the  Greeks,  but  Judaism  and  Cliristianily  first  exhibit  to  us  in  the 
events  of  the  world  a  guiding,  sympathizing,  and  loving  God. 
"God  is  the  sj)licrc  whose  centre  is  everywhere,  and  circumference 
nowhere."     ^^'llere  is  this  more  true  tlian  in  histon- 1 

Thanks,  then,  to  the  Hebrews,  who  immediately,  and  also 
through  Chri.^tianily,  have  taught  us  this  holy  spirit  of  history  !  It 
is  evident  that  the  East,  in  general,  strives  with  holy  zeal  to  dis-  ' 
solve  the  world  into  God,  and  thus  destroy  freedom  of  life  ;  equall}'- 
evident  is  it  the  endeavor  of  the  West,  with  downright  coldness,  to 
dissipate  God  into  the  ^vorld,  but  there  is  always  a  safe  middle  way, 
and  he  who  is  ta\ight  of  God  in  these  matters,  also  recognizes  it. 
And,  as  in  the  history  of  the  Israelites,  faith  on  a  universal  and 
wise  government  of  the  Higiiest  is  everpvherc  predominant ;  so 
does  their  doctrine  of  faith  on  his  fatherly  care  for  every  individual 
pervade  it  in  a  lovely  and  comforting  manner.  The  spiritual  eye 
of  the  noble  Plutarch  could  recognize  in  die  breast  of  Arion,  while 
in  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  this  beautiful  thought,  that  he  wished  to 
be  saved,  mostly  that  hereafter  he  might  put  the  stronger  trust  in  die 
gods.  Well  did  .lohannes  Von  Miiller  say,  "  Will  not  this  heathen 
pha;ronean  some  day  stand  up  a  witness  for  the  truth  against  many 
theologians  ?"    Where  belter  than  in  the  book  of  Psalms  can  we  .■ 

leani  the  struggle  of  the  pious  man  with  the  oppression  of  troubles  j 

wliich  enkindles  his  faith,  as  wind  docs  a  conflagration  ?    There  wc  | 

never  see  a  liardy  struggle  against  dark  power,  but  trial  and  pre-  \ 

servation  beget  luope — a  hope  that  never  shall  be  put  to  shame.  \ 

But  the  internal  benefits  of  these  books,  which  breathe  a  high  and  | 

divine  spirit,  are  too  numerous  for  us  to  speak  of  them  here  par-  1 

ticularly.     Wc  will  point  out  but  one ;  that  connected  with  the  | 

Israelitish  idea  of  God's  holiness,  and  the  consequent  sense  of  sin  « 

and  liumility.      The  more  like  men  the  heathen  gods  were,  the  f 

more   like   gods  did    men    consider   themselves.     Wicked    pride  | 

desecrated  all  tlie  bloom  of  the  world.     One  Socrates  alone  stands  \ 

in  all  antiquity,  who  thought  himself  r/c/i  through  \\h  poverty ;  and  \ 

0  !  that  he  could   have  banished  that  scoffing  sneer  that  sprung  \ 


ISII.)  Translation  from  Professor  TlMhick.  361 

from  tlic  pride  of  liis  humility  !  Hiere  is  a  deep  thoiiglitfuhiess 
that  grovels,  and  a  simplicitij  that  conqi/.ers  heaven.  And  if  UaviJ 
li:ui  been  a  tlircefold  greater  sinner  than  he  was,  his  sin  Jiad  been 
dosiroyod  by  tliat  simple  humility  and  penitence  which  id  all 
lirathoiis  was,  is,  and  ever  will  be  folly.  Let  one  dwell  ii|:ion  the 
rcaJin:;'  of  the  single  book  of  Psalms,  and  inexhaustible  riches  of 
the  decjirsl  moral  ideas  will  unveil  themselves  to  his  eye.  "  Before 
J  was  afflicted  I  went  astray ;  but  now  have  I  kept  thy  word," 
Tsa.  c\i.\-,  67.  Such  a  maxim  of  humility,  throughout  all  proud 
Greece,  is  not  found.  We,  however,  must  turn  from  this  subject 
and  seek  to  show  briefly, 

II.  How  ivisc  and  deep  were  the  divine  guidance  and  religious 
iristilutions  of  the  Hebrews. 

We  speak  first  of  the  guidance*  (experience)  of  the  Israelites. 
"  True  ])hilosophy,"  says  Leibnitz,  "  is  contained  in  history,"  and 
thorouijhly  established  is  the  declaration  of  Clarke,  "  In  religion 
men  arc  apt  to  be  more  easily  wrought  upon,  and  more  strongly 
aflcctcd  by  good  testimony  than  by  the  strictest  arguments."  {Dis- 
course concerning  God.)  Not,  therefore,  through  system  and 
demonstration,  but  through /ac/s  only  can  sensual  men  receive  the 
Irulh  ;  so  also  the  doctrines  and  wonders  of  Christianit}',  though 
they  may  be  taught,  can,  nevertheless,  not  be  rightly  believed  ex- 
cept by  him  who  has  experienced  them.  The  twice  cf  its  fate 
(lot)  is  the  most  intimate  voice  of  God  to  every  human  heart,  there- 
fore through  their  fortunes  were  the  Israelites  taught  doctrines  and 
ethics.  An  inquirer  now  asks,  why  God  chose  but  one  people  to 
\vliom  to  reveal  himself?  Why  arrived  other  people  without  special 
direiXion  almost  so  far  ?  Why  was  the  Jewish  nation  in  jjarlicular 
chosen  f  The  first  question,  the  intelligent  Saint  Martin  answers 
by  asking  a  second  :  Why  has  the  body  but  one  marrowbone,  since 
Eo  many  limbs  also  need  it  1  The  other  questions  Lessing  meets 
by  a  comparison  of  the  individual  man,  the  antitype  of  the  human 
race  :  Does  education  appear  worthless,  because  children  of  nature 
may  equal,  if  they  do  not  sometimes  excel  the  children  of  educa- 
tion ?  and,  Is  not  this  the  chief  consideration,  that  even  upon  the 
nidcst  and  most  unyielding  people,  God  built,  that  the  struggle 

*  'I'liore  is  a  dimciilly  in  fittinfr  an  appropriite  Enslisli  word  to  llic  German 
furh.rvn-^.  Divine  yuijanco  or  dispensation,  I  tliink,  expresses  tlic  idea  near 
enouL'h. 


3G2  Translation  from  Profcssoi- Tlioluck.  [July, 

bclween  the  divine  and  Iiuman  might  be  exhibited  in  the  most 
striking  manner  1  ]5otli  of  llicsc  replies  are  true,  j'et  Lcssing  has 
overlooked, — 1st.  That  no  people  (though  the  Persians  were  far 
before  the  Greeks)  really  equalled  the  Hebrews  in  that  which  was 
and  is  esseiitial  i'?i  the  humble,  true  knowledge  of  God,  for  all  other 
things  are  but  trillos ;  '2d.  That  nations,  whose  eye  is  not  single, 
are  entirely  unqualified  for  divine  revelation  ;  that,  therefore,  neither 
the  phantasy  of  the  Indians,  nor  the  vanity  and  speculation  of  the 
Greeks,  nor  the  iiauglitincss  of  the  Romans,  could  have  received  a 
revelation,  witiiout  disfiguring  it.  If  we  consider  the  records  of  the 
Hebrews,  v.-e  discover  that  the  outward  and  historical  directions  of 
God  constitute  the  mainhold,  which  kept  this  degenerate  race  from 
entirely  abandoning  that  God,  who  in  Isaiah  xliv,  6,  7,  emphatically 
exclaims  :  "  Besides  me  there  is  no  God,  and  who,  as  I,  shall  call, 
and  shall  declare  it,  and  set  it  in  order  for  me,  since  I  appointed 
the  ancient  poojilo  ?" 

Along  wilh  the  divine  guidance  of  the  Israelites,  the  law  and  the 
prophets  were  established  as  God's  means  of  grace.  .Tohannes 
Von  Miiller  says  sublimely  of  the  law  :  "  Moses  led  the  Israelites 
into  this  land  of  wonders,  and  from  the  summit  where  primitive 
worship  had  existed  they  received  their  law,  hut  the  spirit  of  this 
law  uas  itself  a  miracle."  This  law,  and  the  manner  in  which  it 
was  given,  has  always  been  a  stumbling-block  to  those  who  believed 
not  in  Christianity.  Few  heathens,  like  Strabo,  could  praise  the 
law,  and  among  its  Christian  apologists  there  is  found  great  dis- 
agreement. The  learned  Spencer  gives  himself  trouble  to  prove 
that   something  necessarily   must   have   been   borrowed  from  the  ^ 

Jicatiiens  to  keep  the  hard-necked  race  from  becoming  apostate  ;  | 

in  opposition  to  hiui  Witsen  strives  to  show  that  all  which  Israel  | 

had,  was  peculiarly  their  own  ;  and  between  the  two  Warburlon  | 

comes  in,  to  prove  that  the  law  must  have  been  divine,  because  it  | 

exhibits  nothing  but  earthly  reward  and  punishment.     Since  now  5 

we  must  hold  this  in   particular,  that  the  other  races  of  the  earth  | 

bad  not  been  fully  abandoned  by  God,  and  that  out  of  the  original  | 

revelation  much  tiiat  is  divine  had  been  obtained  through  tradition  ;  | 

wc  will,  if  wc  search  into  the  foundation  of  the  general  economy  B 

of  God,  find  it  clear,  how  so  much  is  found  in  common  wilh  the 
Israelites  and  }icath"ns.  For  i(  ap]icars  in  the  general  economy 
of  the  divine  counsel  to  be  settled  that  a  ceremonial  worship  and 


1 S 1 1 .]  TramJalion  from  Professor  Thohick.  3G3 

y.irrinccs  shrill  precede  tlicworsliipin  spiritaiid  in  truth.  Whclhcrlhe 
natiuii.s  would  not  al  first  have  received  a  spiritual  doctrine,  whether 
tiic  ("liiucsc  and  Japanese  are  not  yet  ripe  for  a  jjurcr  fuilh,  are 
tpicslions  which  no  human  being  dare  assume  to  answer.  We  shall 
uiiderslaiid  this  when  the  dialplate  of  the  world's  great  clockwork 
shall  bo  removed.  Therefore  we  find  among  all  heathens  cere- 
monial pomp — and  therefore  the  Jews  had  a  glittering  external 
worshiii,  but  (and  here  is  the  great  difference)  monotheism  and 
Kjnibdlic  and  typical  significancy  gave  to  the  Israelitish  w^orship  a 
jieculiar  character.  Two  great  objects  are  seen  in  the  religious 
laws  of  the  Jews ;  to  write  the  faith  of  monotheism  in  the  most 
secret  heart,  and  to  awaken  a  lively  sense  of  sin.  Sin,  sin  !  is  the 
word  that  resounds  again  and  again  in  the  Old  Testament ;  and  had 
it  not  fur  centuries  rung  in  ears  and  hearts,  the  sound  o(  grace  for 
f^racr,  the  great  watchword  of  the  New  Testament,  could  not 
have  been  heard  at  the  time  of  Christ.  What  need  have  heathens 
of  grace,  who  wish  to  hear  nothing  of  sin,  because  only  they  have 
too  nnich  thereof!  The  priesthood  and  the  whole  system  of  sacri- 
fices existed,  that  all  llesh  jnight  know  that  it  is  but  grass.  Who 
cannot  sec  that  in  this  way  the  law  essentially  prepared  the  way 
for  Christianity  ?  The  sacrificial  service  was  in  general  one  of  the 
deepest  institutes  of  the  ancient  world.  However  wonderfully  and 
lively,  uncorrupted  nature,  even  without  grace,  may  feel  its  de- 
jiendent  relation  on  God,  and  its  great  guilt,  yet  we  are  forced  to 
ad(.pt  the  following  words  :  "  Doivnvjord,  or  how  this  reverence 
t<A\;ird  the  unseen  God,  when  it  was  once  introduced  among  men, 
should  extend  to  following  generations,  the  answer  is  not  difficult. 
The  water  runs  easily  down  the  mountain,  and  finds  its  own  way  ; 
but  by  a.scent  one  finally  arrives  at  the  highest  point.  To  that 
point  the  water  cannot  flow,  but  must  descend  from  it.  It  is  iri- 
drrd  a  deeper  question  than  many  a  one  supposes,  how  the  first 
offerer  arrived  at  the  idea  of  an  offering." 

The  advantage  for  piety,  that  this  faith  on  one  God  has  wrought, 
Ins  never  yet  been  sufficiently  appreciated.  The  gods  of  the 
C5 recks  were  exalted  men,  who,  unequal  in  strength,  were  constantly 
warring  against  each  other.  As  that  man,  who  knows  of  no  other 
Jirol'Tiioa  and  safely  but  the  favor  of  powerful  party,  can  never 
ainve  :a  peace  of  mind — as  he,  now  full  of  anxiety  lest  his  party 
may  hul,   nov,-  troubled  lest  it  rnay  prove  faithless  to  him,  ever 


364  Translation  from  Vrojcssor  Tlioluck.  [July, 

nourishes  in  his  bosom  foar  and  doubl ;  so  in  llic  heart  of  no  reli- 
gious Greek  could  ihcrc  spring  up  a  joyous  and  contented  life.  No 
Greek  could  say,  wiih  tiie  Psuhuist,  lly  soul  is  quiet  before  God. 
An  eternal  ebb  and  How  af^italcd  the  fainting  heart.  Otherwise 
was  it  with  the  Hebrew.  lie  knew  tliat  his  God  was  the  God  of 
heaven  and  earth,  who  had  appointed  their  habitations  to  all  peo- 
ple, to  whom  every  knee  shall  bow,  and  ever)'  tongue  shall  swear. 
What  cflect  this  constant  flowing  of  the  soul  to  the  only  God  pro- 
duces, tliey  will  understand  who  live  a  spiritual  life.  What  it  is 
to  look  away  entirely  from  men,  and  alo;ie  to  God,  the  holy  men 
of  Judaism  and  Clu-istianily  and  all  the  martyrs  understood.  Luther, 
too,  fell  it  wiicn  he  said  to  the  elector,  '"  You  cannot  protect  me 
by  your  power,  hut  I  can  you  by  my  pirayersy  Thus  operated  the 
faith  on  one  God  ;  but  still  more  blessed  was  the  faith  on  one  (iod, 
as  the  God  of  holuic^s,  that  presides  over  all.  As  the  world  of 
gods  among  the  Greeks,  in  its  principle  rested  alone  on  nature, 
there  was  nothing  in  it  by  which  man  could  transport  himself 
beyond  the  limits  of  time.  Not  only  so,  but  earthly  nature  was  by 
the  Greek  consecrated,  so  that  to  him  it  seemed  presumption  to 
wish  for  superiority  over  it.  The  law  of  Moses  in  its  political  part 
is  inferior  to  none  other.  The  natural  feeling  of  humanity  and 
equity  is  its  foundation,  and  out  of  this  spring  most  of  the  precepts. 
Mildness  and  compassion  are  enjoined  toward  strangers,  widows, 
orphans,  and  animals.  How  delicate  and  affecting  is  Exod.  xxiii, 
9  ;  xxii,  2]  !  "  Also  thou  shall  not  oppress  a  stranger  :  for  ye  know 
the  heart  of  a  stranger,  seeing  yc  were  strangers  in  the  land  of 
Egypt."  Also  Lev.  xix,  34,  "  And  thou  shall  love  him  (the 
stranger)  as  thyself."  Also  the  many  commandments  respecting 
widows  and  orphans,  as  Exod.  xxii,  22,  "  Yc  shall  not  afflict  any 
widow  or  fatherless  child.  If  thou  aftlict  them  in  any  wise,  and 
they  cry  at  all  unto  me,  I  will  surely  hear  their  cry  ;  and  my  wrath 
shall  wax  hot,  and  I  will  l;ili  you  with  the  sword ;  and  your  wives 
shall  be  widows,  and  your  children  fatherless."  Compare  Exod. 
xix,  13,  32;  Deut.  xv,  7;  xxiv,  10,  1-1,  and  17:  and  for  ani- 
mals, Exod.  xxiii,  11  ;  Lev.  xxii,  24;  Deut.  xxii,  1.  And  before 
all  commands,  "  Thou  shall  love  Ood  above  every  thing,  and  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself."  Thi.s  law,  and  this  worship  given  to  men, 
were  only  the  hull,  and  toward  the  time  of  Christ  became  constantly  I 

dryer,  and  more  devoid  of  sap ;  but  then  at  length  the  winged 


1811.]  Translation  fro7n  Professor  llioluck.  3G5 

PsycliC.  burst  ihrougli  the  obsolete  cln ysalis,  and  directed  its  fliglit  , 
to  liciivcn.     Till  lliis  gTcat  event  happened,  (or  nearly  to  the  time,) 
men   \vc;re  constantly  sent,  in  whom  the  Spirit  of  God  Ijreatlied, 
quickening  their  age.     We  poor  mortals  are  fallen,  and  have,  so 
long  as  we  arc  unenlightened  from  above,  no  standard  in  us  for 

what  is  divine,  wherever  it  meets  us  ;  and  hence  the  contempt  of  \ 

tlic  natural  man  for  holy  writ.     First,  through  a  long  struggle  and  S 

clForl   are  we  made  partakers  of  some  illumination,  and  since  in  | 

divine  things  each  one  Jawius  only  so  much  as  he  himself  is,  we  i 

recognize  in  Scripture  what  is  divinely  excellent  only  in  the  same  | 

measure  as  it  begins  to  grow  in  us.     Thus  is  it  especially  in  the  . 

reading  of  the  prophets.     Their  words  appear  dry  and  unfruitful  I 

to  every  heathen,  and  one  cannot  blame  them  if  they  had  a  bun-  j| 

drcd  times  rather  take  up  Homer  or  Anacreon.     But  possessed  of  | 

tlic  Spirit  of  God  as  teacher,  man  sees  therein  a  new  sense.     He  | 

sees,  1st,  The  propliccy;  2d,  Wonderful  annunciations;  .3d,  Infiiiile  » 

dcjilh  of  spiritual  meaning.     Of  this,  however,  more  hereafter.  ] 

If  we  wish  to  obtain  a  correct  idea  of  the  propliels,  w^e  must  | 

transfer  ourselves  fully  into  antiquity.     Origen  takes  it  for  granted  \ 

that  the  heathen  obtained  a  knowledge  of  futurity ;  and  that  the  j 

Jews  might  not  fall  behind  them,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  i 

have  prophets,  and  that  God  should  give  them.     From  whatever  j 

source  the  knowledge  of  the   future  may  have  been  derived  by  , 

heathen  priests,  it  is  certain  that  the  Jewish  prophets  had  theirs  j 

from   God.     All  the  ancient  world  lived  in  much  move  intimate  ? 

connection  with  the  supernatural  world  than  the  present  age ;  hence  j 

the  liveliest  feeling  of  necessity  to  do  nothing  without  God,  (sine  \ 

Numinc.)     The  prophets   should  also  be  looked  upon  from  this  J 

point  of  view,  and  be  regarded  as  standing  in  every  thing  between  i 

Ood  and  men.     As  the  direction  of  the  political  fortunes  of  the  j 

Hebrews  had  a  specially  important  influence  upon  religion,  as  their  i 

dorlrincs  are  written  in  capital  letters  on  their  destinies,  it  was  : 

ncccssaiy  that  prophecy  should  have  its  immediate  reference  to  j 

tliem.     While  thus  the  wijl  of  God  was  poured  into  the  souls  of  | 

his  saints,  there  remained  a  continued  and  intimate  union  of  the  | 

people  with  their  God.     Perverted,  therefore,  is  the  new-fashioned  j 

vi'.-^w  of  those  who  will  sec  in  the  prophets  nothing  but  demagogues  j 
nnd  poets.     Isaiah  v;as  as  little  the  war  minister  of  Ilezekiah,  as 
Tircsi.-is  was  the  minister  for  religion  to  GSdipus,  or  the  Brahmin 


366  Trarislntion  from  Professor  ThohicJc.  [July, 

Bidpai,  state  chancellor  to  the  Wise  Dabsliclim  of  India.  SiiU 
more  wonderful  docs  it  sound,  wlicn  some  speak  of  court  prophets 
as  of  court  comedians.  JIow  can  those  men  be  called  demagogues 
who  manifested  zeal  about  public  matters  only  in  reference  to  tlie 
prosperity  or  decline  of  God's  worship — who  threatened  war  only 
against  ungodliness,  promised  peace  only  as  a  reward  for  piety— 
who  never  sought  self — who  announced  futurity  and  still  remained 
cowherds,  (Amos,) — wlio  in  times  of  declension  from  God  had  to 
expect  only  persecution  and  the  sword  ?  ^^'ho  can  place  such  men, 
of  wliom  tlic  world  was  not  worthy,  by  the  side  of  Cleon  the  tanner? 
And  what  idea  of  poetry  has  a  man,  when  he  inlroduccs  Jeremiah 
and  Isaiali  in  the  character  of  poets  ?    To  them  the  form  was  | 

nothing,  and  therefore  they  cannot  be  called  poets  ;  but  their  spirit  \ 

and  highjlight  of  thought  cannot  be  called  poetry  only,  when  one  | 

believes  that  the  Spirit  of  God  was  active  in  these  men  of  God,  | 

and  tliat  more  is  discoverable  in  the  books  than  human  elevation  | 

of  mind.     If  the  Spirit  of  God  intimated  what  lies  without  the  i 

sph.ere  of  man,  the  words  of  the  prophets  were  not  merel)'-  the  out-  ? 

ward  representations  of  the  excited  mind,  they  were  the  word  of  i 

God.     Had  lliis  not  been  so,  how  could  it  have  been  complained  i 

by  them  of  false  prophets  not  sent  of  God  ?    If  their  view  had  been  | 

dim  and  dcccjilivc,  how  could  a  fact  succeed  for  confirmation  ?    In  | 

Jeremiah,  chapter  twenty-eight,  it  is  said,  "  And  Hananiah  spake,  | 

saying,  Thus  sailh  the  Lord  :  even  so  will  I  break  the  yok.e  of  i! 

Nebuchadnezzar."    "  Then  said  the  prophet  Jeremiah  to  Hananiah  | 

the  prophet,  Hoar  now,  Hananiah,  the  Lord  hath  not  sent  thee,  but  | 

thou  niakcst  tliis  people  to  trust  in  a  lie.     Therefore  thus  saith  the  | 

Lord  :  Behold  I  will  cast  thee  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth  :  this  | 

year  thou  shalt  die,  because  thou  hast  taught  rebellion  against  tlie  | 

Lord.     So  Hananiah  the  prophet  died  the  same  year,  in  the  seventh  I 

month."     Could  Moses  by  a  prophet  have  meant  a  poet  or  a  spe-  | 

cious  demagogue,  where  he  thus  threatens  in  Deut.  xviii,  20?  "  But  | 

the  prophet,  which  shall  presume  to  speak  a  word  in  my  name,  | 

which  I  have  not  commanded  him  to  speak,  or  that  shall  speak  in  | 

the  name  of  oilier  gods,  even  that  prophet  shall  die.  And  if  thou 
say  in  thy  heart,  How  shall  wc  know  the  word  which  the  Lord 
hath  not  spoken?  "When  a  prophet  speakcth  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  if  the  thing  follow  not,  nor  come  to  pass,  that  is  the  tiling 
which  the  Lord  hath  not  spoken." 


1611.]  Trauslalion  from  Professor  TholucTi.  3G7 

\Vc  now  pass  to  tlic  third  and  most  important  point,  to  show, — 

III.  How  the  New  Testament  depends  entirely  on  the  Old,  and 
that  Christ  is  the  kernel  of  all  the  Old  Testament.  (Nou  sapit 
vclii.s  iScriptura,  si  non  Christus  in  ca  intelligatur. — Augustine.) 

'I'liis  intimate  connection  of  the  New  with  the  Old  Testament 
niay  he  comprehended  under  a  threefold  division: — 1.  The  prin- 
ci[)les  of  all  the  New  Testament  morality  depend  upon  the  ideas 
cont.-.incd  in  the  Old.  2.  The  entire  doctrine  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment is  the  perfected  religious  system  of  the  Old  Testament. 
.3.  'J'he  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament  are  fulfilled  in  the  New, 
Christ  being  the  centre  of  all.  We  speak  first  of  inorality.  The 
three  great  tones  cognizable  in  the  complete  Christian  life  are, 
hinnilitij,  faith,  and  love.  Of  these  three,  the  clement  and  antici- 
pation arc  found  in  Judaism,  and  of  the  two  first,  only  in  Judaism. 

Humility,  as  we  h.ave  seen,  was  contemplated  by  the  wliole  of 
tlic  sacrificial  system  ;  to  awaken  a  feeling  of  sin  wove  the  priest- 
liood  and  the  law  ordained.  For  this  reason  we  find  such  great 
evidences  of  humility  in  the  Old  Testament.  Psa.  xxxiv,  ]  8,  "The 
Lord  is  nigh  unto  them  that  are  of  a  broken  heart ;  and  savcth  such 
as  bo  of  a  contrite  spirit."  Micali  vi,  8,  "  He  hath  showed  thee, 
0  man,  what  is  good  ;  and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee,  but 
to  do  justly  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God?" 
Isa.  Ivii,  15,  "For  thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth 
eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy  :  I  dwell  in  tlic  high  and  holy  place, 
with  liim  also  that  is  of  a  contrite  and  humble  spirit,  to  revive  the 
spirit  of  ilie  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the  contrite  ones." 
Isa.  Ixvi,  2,  "For  all  those  things  hath  my  hand  made,  and  all  those 
things  have  been,  saith  the  Lord ;  but  to  this  man  will  I  look,  even 
to  him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  contrite  spirit  and  trcmblcth  at  my 
word."  Everywhere,  therefore,  we  find  that  poverty  of  spirit — 
nn  Inimblc  feeling,  (animus  demissns,  humilis  fractus,)  to  the 
heathens  a  crime,  [Cic.  Off.,  iii,  32,)  was  to  the  Hebrews  the  true 
and  correct  disposition  of  the  soul.  While  the  heathen  praises  a 
high  and  lofty  mind,  {-^iiJio^  uyavor,)  it  is  said  in  the  economy  of 
l.srael,  "God  rosisteth  the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  unto  the 
luunblc."  If  we  take  a  glance,  in  reference  to  this  important 
in-ilii-.r,  at  the  oriental  heathen,  we  shall  find  something  more 
cxa'i'-d  and  better  than  among  the  Greeks,  and  yet  the  eiistoru 
world,  by  the  force  of  inference,  strayed  upon  giddy  heights.    The 


368  Translation  from  Professor  TlioJuck.  [July, 

Indo-Chinese  book  Suche-uUi-cliang-king  tenches:  "  Man  must 
abandon  father,  mother,  every  fcchng,  every  good,  every  wish,  that 
he  may  sink  into  that  annihilation  where  he  may  think  as  God." 
The  Nyaya  sect  teaches,  "  When  the  true  light  of  God  comes, 
then  is  self-annihilation  so  entire,  that  knowledge  ceases."  In  the 
East,  therefore,  we  see  abandonment  of  self, — annihilalion.  This 
is  a  fruitless  sjioculation,  without  influence  on  the  life ;  but  a 
deeper  signification  lies  in  it,  than  in  the  Grecian  views  of  worldly 
enjoyment. 

The  other  Clivistian  clement  in  .Judaism  \s  faith.  This,  too, 
was  an  idea  wiiolly  foreign  to  heathenism.  Faith,  in  the  Christian 
sense,  is,  "An  actual  possession,  a  rca]forefccling  (participation) 
of  a  higher  mode  of  existence,  into  wliicli  a  man  may  enter  by  the 
condition  of  i\is  spirit,  although  he  be  unable  to  comprehend  it. 
While  we  carry  in  the  innermost  ground  of  our  nature  the  image 
and  seed  of  a  higiier  life,  unknown  to  this  world  in  which  we  now 
exist ;  we  have  it  lliercby  in  our  power  to  become  conscious  of  the 
reality  of  tliose  ra;^  s  of  life  which  arc  shed  into  us  from  on  high, 
and  to  feel  within  ourselves  the  certainty  of  that  better  state  which 
is  appointed  for  ns.  Therefore  the  apostle  John  says,  not  only 
emphatically  and  figuratively,  but  with  true  and  deep  significancy, 
'lie  that  behcveth,  halh  eternal  life,  and  hath  passed  from  death 
unto  life.'  The  Saviour  himself  shows  clearly  the  deep  meaning 
of  this  expression  when  he  says,  '  The  water  that  I  give  you  shall 
be  in  yoti  a  well  of  water  springing  up  unto  eternal  life.'  " — Neandcr. 
In  this  full  extent  the  Hebrews  possessed  not  faith,  yet  the  uncon- 
ditional and  full  surrender  to  God  which  we  find  exercised  by  the 
fathers  of  the  Old  Testament  was  the  most  glorious  introduction  to 
it.  What  a  power  of  spiritual  life  was  exhibited  when  Abraham, 
because  the  voice  of  God  called,  could  give  up  his  so}i,  his  only 
heir,  liun  who  had  been  given  in  answer  to  inanj'  prayers,  upon 
whcni  hung  the  promise  of  ilie  seed!  In  the  night,  the  command 
of  that  God  whom  he  knew,  came  to  him.  Early  in  the  morning 
lie  sets  furtli  with  two  servants.  To  no  one,  not  to  tlie  inother,  the 
son,  or  the  servants  does  he  disclose  his  conflict  of  faith.  His 
lacerated  Jieart  speaks  only  in  tlic  words,  "My  son,  the  Lord  will 
provide  an  offering  lor  himself."  Tliis  was  a  faith,  this  was  a 
surrender,  that  was  sulliciciU  to  make  him  the  father  of  the  faithful. 
The  idea  of  the  submission  of  faith  reigns  throughout  all  the  books 


ISU.]  Translation  fr'om  P7-ofcssor  Thohick.  3G9 

of  llic  oil!  covenant.  And  even  this  word  covenant,  if  we  will 
regard  it,  discloses  the  greatness  of  this  idea  of  faith.  Wliat  a 
tluuudil !  tliat  God  should  make  a  covenant  villi  win!  A  prc- 
»uMi|itiioiis  tlioiiglil,  if  discovered;  a  high  one,  if  given.  It  is 
necessary,  tlmugli  difficult  for  man  to  come  to  this  divine  faith. 
I'liiio  f.iys,  "  Ever}'  thing  around  us  tempts  to  the  laying  our  trust 
ill  iicahli,  strength,  prudence,  power,  &c.,  but  to  turn  away  from 
llioin  all,  and  depend  only  upon  God,  is  a  gixat  and  heavenly  slate 
of  the  soul." 

Ihit  love ;  is  its  stamen  also  to  be  found  in  Hebraism  ?  God  the 
lioril  speaks  to  Israel,  Deut.  vi,  5,  "  Thou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy 
God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
might."  Bui  what  does  he,  wlio  would  thus  be  loved,  promise  in 
order  to  seem  worthy  of  love?  Isa.  liv,  10,  "For  the  mountains 
shall  depart  and  the  hills  be  removed ;  but  my  kindness  shall  not 
dejinrt  from  thee,  neither  shall  the  covenant  of  my  peace  be  re- 
muvod,  saith  the  Lord  thai  halh  mercy  on  thee."  Also  Isa.  xlix, 
M,  15,  "  llul  Zion  said,  The  Lord  halh  forsaken  me,  and  my  Lord 
hath  fui-noUen  me.  Can  a  woman  forget  her  sucking  child,  that 
she  should  not  have  comjiassion  on  the  son  of  her  womb?  Yea, 
they  may  forget,  yet  will  I  not  forget  thee."  This  is  indeed  the 
language  of  love,  a  language  able  to  excite  the  heart  of  man  on  its 
l)art  to  fulfd  the  law  of  love.  But  if,  however,  after  so  many  re- 
freshing streams  of  love,  the  fire  of  his  zeal  should  sometimes 
break  forth,  yet  was  the  afi'ection  decided,  and  the  purpose  tender. 
Sunicient  proof  of  this  is  found  in  the  consideration  of  the  deliver- 
ances of  the  people  which  the  Holy  One  had  taken  as  his  own. 
These  deliverances  produced  an  inward  trust — and  where  there  is 
trust  there  must  be  love.  But  here  the  old  objection  meets  u?, 
that  Israel's  God  was  a  jealous  and  wrathful  God.  But  the  Hebrew 
expression  represents  this  jealousy  as  proceeding  always  from  love 
— and,  therefore,  so  far  from  its  meaning  any  bad,  it  becomes  the 
most  endearing  epithet.  One  must,  then,  meet  the  objection  as 
did  Origen ;  the  sinner  needs  not  only  to  be  protected,  but  to  be 
alarmed.  Even  after  the  message  of  love  has  come  to  us  in  the 
gospel,  we  read  these  alarming  voices  of  awakening  with  an  humble 
arkiiowledgment  that  to  ns  also  in  our  ever-returning  weakness, 
Oiey  can  be  recalled  with  profit.  Moreover,  this  jealous  God  spoke 
to  his  chosen  ones  quite  othenvisc  than  to  the  stiif-neckcd  people. 


370                  TransladoJi  from  Prof cssor  Tlwluck.              IJuIy,  I 

] 

When  Elijah  spake  wilh  God,  it  is  said,  (1  Kings  xix,)  "And  be-  i 

hold,  the  Lord  passed  by,  and  a  great  and  strong  wind  rent  the  | 

mountains,  and  brake  in  ]ucccs  the  rocks  before  the  Lord ;  but  the  | 

Lord  was  not  in  the  wind  :  and  after  the  wind  an  earthquake  ;  but  « 

the  Lord  v.'as  not  in  the  earthquake  :  and  after  the  earthquake  a  I 

fire ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  fire  :  and  after  the  fu-e  a  still  i 

small  voice.     And  it  was  so,  when  Elijah  heard  it,  that  he  wrapped  | 

his  face  in  liis  mantle  and  went  forth."     This  is  the  love  of  God  to  | 

man,  and  of  man  to  God,  but  how  can  love  of  man  lo  man  be  more  1 

strongly  expressed  than  in  the   command.   Thou  shall  love  thy  | 

neighbor  (the    stranger)   as  thyself.     Here   is   love   placed  high  | 

enough ;  and  it  can  be  no  derogation  from  the   command,   that  j 

future  selfishness  confmcd  it  to  lower  limits.     Thus  in  Moses  and  I 

the  prophets  by  anticipation,   the  heavenly  harmony  of  Christian  | 

life  sounded  m  its  threefold  tones,  and  as  humility  and  love  were  | 

practical,  there  were  ever  humble  and  loving  hearts,  as  of  Hannah,  5 

Elizabeth,  Mary,  Simeon,  and  Joseph,  ready  to  give  it  a  response.  ? 

If  the  jirincijJcs  of  the  Christian  moralitj'-  can  be  pointed  out  in  ^ 

Judaism,  slill  easier  is  the  task  to  show  the  connection  of  Christian  | 

(loclnncs.     Theologians,  although  universally  admitting  the  most  ] 

intimate  dogmatical  relation  between  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  J 

yet  draw  therefrom  directly  opposite  opinions.     Some  think  that  j 

bjf  this  very  relation  it  can  be  shown  how  the  gospel  could  arise  | 

out  of  Iltbr.iism  in  the  natural  way  of  human  development ;  while  i 

others,  assuming  a  continued  direction  of  God  among  the  Israelites,  | 

endeavor  to  cstablisli  that  it  was  the  design  of  the  Ancient  of  days  | 

gradually  to  prepare  all  hearts  and  spirits  for  the  day  of  the  appear-  1 

ancc  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world.     If  one  desire  to  arrive  at  the  3 

truth  in  ihi.s  matter  by  inference,  he  can  at  once  show  that  the  j 

Hebrew  nation  is  lo  the  historian  an  unsolved  riddle  ;  that  their  | 
cliaractcr,  and  law,  and  destiny  are  wonders :  and  then  from  the 
condition  of  the  world,  and  of  that  nation  at  the  time  of  Christ,  as 
well  as  from  the  history  of  the  Lord,  conclude  with  the  greatest 
clearness  that  Christianity  never  could  have  arisen  out  of  Judaism 
in  a  natural  way.  But  this  mode  of  proof  is  not  so  convincing  as 
to  enter  into  the  system  of  salvation  by  Christ,  learn  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ciliosl,  and  then  seek,  moved  by  the  authority  of  Christ, 
more  in  .ludai:>m  than  meets  the  view  at  first,  and  be  convinced 
that  ihcfc  is  no  natural  development  williout  the  special  guidance 


J  61 1.1  Translation  froi7i  Professor  Tholuck.  371 

of  God.  "\^' hocvcr  pursues  this  way,  whoever  .siibmits  lo  the  new 
liirth  of  the  Spirit,  will  get  rid  of  all  liis  doubts — for  it  is  not  liis 
under-standiiig,  but  his  will,  that  doubts.  Wiat  arc,  then,  tlic  doc- 
trines of  the  iS'ew  Testament  to  be  found  in  the  Old  ?  All  of  them, 
1  .siipi>osc,  arc  to  be  found  there,  more  or  less  clear.  The  proof  in 
each  particular  need  not  here  be  adduced ;  and  we  shall  confine 
ourselves  to  some  general  remarks  on  the  history  of  Old  Testament 
dogmas.  It  is  undeniable  that  many  doctrines  first  make  their 
appearance  in  the  course  of  ages  and  after  ihc  Babyloni.sh  captivity. 
]f  ihc  doctrines  of  immortalitjr — of  the  resurrection — of  judgment 
— of  demons,  were  borrowed  from  foreign  nations,  are  they  there- 
fore false  and  fabulous  ?  Alas  !  testimonies  from  the  time  of  the 
captivity  are  so  deficient,  that  we  are  left  to  liypothcses,  without 
liaviiig  any  thing  positive.  With  the  authority  of  Christ,  and  the 
maxim  of  Cicero  and  Augustine,  Nulla  falsa  doctrina  est,  qua;  non 
ali<iuid  veri  pcrmisceat,  (There  is  no  false  doctrine  but  has  some 
truth,)  wc  may  assimic  that  tlicre  was  something  divine  and  true 
in  all  ancient  religions,  (particularly  among  the  Persians,)  since  God 
lias  not  left  liimsclf  among  any  people  without  a  witness.  On  the 
other  hand,  however,  wc  find  intimations  of  these  doctrines  in  the 
books  of  ih.c  Old  Testament,  as,  of  immortality  in  the  translations 
of  Enoch  and  Elijah — of  the  resmrection  in  Psalm  xvii,  15 — of  the 
judgment  in  the  frequent  expression.  Terrible  day  of  the  Lord — 
and  of  demons,  in  Genesis  iii,  and  Lev.  xvi,  8,  (where  Gesenius, 
too,  explains  by  demon.)  We  cannot,  therefore,  resist  the  belief 
(v.  Dc  Welle  (unl  Bnisius)  that  the  Jews  had  a  species  of  secret 
doctrine  which  was  perpetuated  among  the  wise  ones  (elders)  by 
tradition,  and  makes  its  appearance  only  liere  and  there  in  the 
.Scriptures  in  a  general  and  indistinct  light.  This  assertion  can  be 
supjiortcd  by  the  universal  reception  among  the  Jews  of  an  oral 
law ;  or  at  least  this  Jcv.ish  reception  shows  that  such  a  thing  is 
not  entirely  without  foundation.  If  this  supposition  be  well- 
pioundcd,  a  similar  occurrence  appears  to  have  taken  place  in 
Judaism,  as  occurred  in  the  sinking  of  lieathenism.  Creuzer  has 
^hown,  that  the  heathens,  when  Christianity  threatened  to  overcome 
every  tiling,  drew  forth  from  their  mysteries  to  the  light  of  day 
wlnti-vcr  was  analogous  to  Christianity— and  here  and  there  modi- 
fi«l  it  by  the  Christian  doctrine.  Even  so,  by  the  divine  provi- 
dence, Judaism  seems  to  Jiave  come  into  so  near  contact  with  the 


372  Translaiion  from  Professor  Thobick.  FTuly, 

Persian  doctrines,  tliat  what  liati  been  long  taught  in  the  dimness 
of  secret  tradition,  at  tiuil  lirnc  came  forth  to  the  liglit,  and  perfect- 
ing itself  througli  the  Periiun,  served  for  the  foundation  of  a  new 
order  of  things  which  Christ  brought  in.  This  is  to  us  the  most 
probable  genesis  of  these  doctrines.  They  were  according  to  the 
plan  of  providence  disseminated  just  before  the  advent  of  Christ,  so 
that  he,  who  was  to  bring  in  the  new  spirit,  and  by  it  crush  the  hull 
of  the  law,  but  perfect  the  form  of  doctrine,  should  not  be  under 
necessity  to  give  any  new  doctrine,  but  by  his  living  and  teaching 
announce  this  one  great  doctrine  :  That  God  has  loved  the  ivorld. 
The  posl-Bubylonian  doctrines  were,  however,  so  transformed  by 
Jesus  and  the  apostles,  that  they  now  in  a  pure  and  perfect  form 
exhibit  that  spirit  which  has  departed  from  the  lifeless  body  of 
Rabbinic  fuilh. 

Wc  now  turn  to  the  prophecies,  the  third  point  of  connection 
between  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  A  distinction  may  be 
made  between  those  which  relate  to  the  time  of  Christianity,  (the 
kingdom  of  heaven  on  earth,)  and  those  which  treat  only  of  the 
person  of  Christ.  If  anywhere  a  confused  treatment  of  the  sacred 
Scri])tiires  has  done  injury  to  the  faith,  it  has  happened  in  the 
apprehension  of  the  prophecies  of  the  Old  Testament.  Without 
regard  to  the  facts  that  the  New  Testament  was  written  within  a 
short  period  by  the  disciples  of  one  teacher,  hut  the  Old  during  the 
lapse  of  eleven  centuries  by  priests,  kings,  cowlierds,  and  lawgivers 
of  different  characters,  though  excited  by  the  same  spirit ;  the  com- 
mentator lias  explained  the  Old  Testament  in  the  same  manner  as  | 
tlie  New,  without  distinguishing  time  from  time.  We  who  now  | 
stand  at  the  point  of  nearly  six  thousand  years  from  the  commence-  | 
ment  of  the  world,  must,  with  a  universal  historical  view,  overlook  | 
the  entire  past,  in  order  rightly  to  understand  the  plan  of  the  Ancient  I 
of  days  in  the  liistory  of  the  Jewish  people.  He,  however,  who  | 
measures  the  waters  in  his  fist,  and  compasses  the  heaven  with  a  | 
span,  hath  also  set  limits  to  knowledge;  and  if  the  bucket  fills  I 
itself  only  after  thousands  of  years  by  drop  succeeding  drop,  we  < 
must  consider  that  a  thousand  years  with  him  are  as  one  day —  I 
and  who  is  he  that  can  give  him  understanding,  or  teach  hini  what  \ 
is  right?  Wc  find  that  the  idea  of  a  kingdom  of  God,  and  the 
idea  of  a  day  of  judgment,  as  well  as  that  of  a  spiritual  king  of 
Israel,  only  gradually  developed  themselves  among  llie  people  of 


lyll.]  Translation  from  Professor  Tiiohick.  373 

Hod.  Wc  propose,  not  to  be  full  on  lliis  lopic,  but  to  tlirow  out  the 
I'-culinr;  ideas.  There  arc  in  the  nature  (mind)  of  man  (as  Jos. 
.Sc-aliger  calls  thoiu)  the  seeds  of  eternity,  (scmiua  a-teniitalis  :) 
1.  c.,  ctcrnaiiv  existing  ideas,  which  the  rational  belief  of  man  seizes 
and  lidlds  fast  in  the  whirlpool  of  ever-changing  lime.  8ucli  ideas 
wcic  among  the  ancient  heathens,  and  arc  still  prevalent  with  many 
j(,iL;ans  of  the  present  age.  But  in  Europe  many  persons  consider 
iht  nisclvcs  too  wise  to  acknowledge  and  entertain  such  ideas.  O, 
that  tiie  words  of  a  true  philosopher  (Solger)  could  be  heartily 
accepted  !  "  The  conviction  is  spreading  itself,  that  tiie  lately  so 
called  free-thinking  rests  upon  a  weak  foundation,  and  that  it  requires 
a  far  freer  and  stronger  mind  to  believe  wonders  without  quibbling 
and  false  interpretation,  than  to  get  rid,  by  an  insipid  and  timid 
denial  of  all  that  does  not  harmonize  with  the  most  common  laws 
of  experience.  Among  these  seeds  of  eternity  may  be  reckoned 
the  ideas  of  (Jod,  freedom,  and  immortality,  wliich  the  self-corn-  i 

]irc-!u  iiding  .-ijiirit  a])preliends  and  holds  fast  by  means  of  a  rational 
faiih  that  overtops  all  knowledge — that  does  not  prove,  but  refers  i 

to — that  does  not  consintct,  but  vindicates.     On  the  same  ground  | 

may  be  defended  the  idea  of  a  former  lost  blessedness  of  the  human  t 

race — of  an    intimate    union  between   the   spiritual   and  material  j 

worlds — -of  a  revelation  of  God — of  a  Saviour  of  the  world— and  of  | 

future  happiness.     Among  all  races  of  the  earth  spake  and  speaks  ; 

yet  tlic  feeling  of  tliese  truths  in  the  most  varied  manner.     The  | 

same  feeling  dwelt  with  the  Jews.     With  them  this  seed  gradually  | 

waxed,  and  became  a  tree  in  wliose  shadow  the  fowls  of  heaven  j 

niiglit  rest.     Two   stars,   a   period    of  earthly  prosperity  and    a  | 

lledeemer,  gleamed  upon  tlieir  wise   ones  with  uncertain  light.  | 

And  ihc  nearer  the  time  approached  in  which  the  two  should  appear  | 

united,  the  more  brilliant  became  the  light  of  these  stars.     Indeed,  | 

the  liope  of  a  Savioiu"  in  different  forms  was  foiuid  among  other  I 

)>^o|)lc  ;  the  Chinese,  the  Thibetians,  the  Indians,  the  Persians,  and  j 

the  Greeks  have  their  reports  of  a  golden  age,  and  of  its  return —  1 

wiih  the  Indians,  Krishna ;  with  the  Persians,  Oshandevbami ;  with  j 

ilie  Icelanders,  Tlior  is  the  hero  who  shall  establish  the  redemption  | 

of  the  world,  but  this  fabulous  glinnner  shines  with  doubtful  light :  j 

ani'.iig  the  Jews,  on  the  contrary,  the  ^lessiah  is  the  confirmed  and  j 

glowing  centre  of  all  hope  ;-— at  all  times  they  believed  him  near,  | 

as  liie.  apostles  the  day  of  the  Lord— the  second  advent  of  the 
Vol.  I.— 21 


374  Translation  from  Professor  Tholuch.  [July, 

Messiah.  I  do  not  assert  tliat  Eve  (Gen.  iv,  1)  already  supposed  lint 
the  Messiah  had  been  born  of  her,  but  Jacob  certainly  believed  his 
advent  near,  as  also  David,  and  hence,  also,  no  objection  can  be 
made  against  Isaiah,  chapter  ix,  as  inappropriately  giving  the  signs 
of  a  near  event  to  what  was  veiled  in  the  darkness  of  distant 
futurity ;  for  to  the  Israelite  it  was  the  most  cevtain  matter  that 
a  Redeemer  should  at  some  time  come,  and  while  the  prophet 
brings  this  most  certain  fact  of  redemption  into  his  contemplation, 
and  expands  and  confirms  it,  the  nearness  of  the  promise  gains  in 
certainty.  So  deeply  had  the  idea  of  a  Messiah  penetrated  into 
the  conceptions  of  the  Hebrew,  that  the  prophet  returns  to  it  in 
the  eleventh  chapter,  because  he  that  was  to  come  would  supply 
all  wants — bring  peace  on  earth,  and  establish  righteousness,  holi- 
ness, the  state,  religion,  and  law.  Without  dispute,  by  the  promise 
of  a  seed  that  should  bruise  the  serpent's  head,  (Gen.  iii,)  the 
Messiah  is  designated.  7'his  the  Christian  asserts  as  confidently 
as  the  Indian  asserts  the  snake  whose  head  Krishna  mashes 
with  his  heel,  or  the  heathen  Icelander  asserts  the  dragon  whose 
liead  'J'hor  breaks,  is  the  evil  enemy.  This  great  promise  flew 
from  race  to  race  until  He  came  who  was  to  come.  Zoroaster 
tcaciics  :  In  the  last  age  of  the  world,  the  holy  man  Oshanderbami 
will  come  to  fight  with  the  evil  demon  twenty  years,  that  he  will 
finally  conquer,  that  righteousness  will  return,  kings  will  obey  him, 
and  p>cace  will  be  on  earth.  The  next  appearance  of  this  joyful 
hope  in  the  Old  Testament  is  in  Gen.  xlix,  10,  where  the  dying 
patriarch,  fanned  by  the  breath  of  eternity,  pronounces  it.  That  the 
Messiah  in  Deut.  xviii,  is  meant,  there  is  some  doubt.  First,  in 
David's  Psalms  this  cheering  light  again  shows  itself.  No  sound 
interpretation  can  explain  Psalms  ii,  and  ex,  of  any  other  person 
but  the  Messiah.  Up  to  this  period,  the  expected  Anointed 
appeared  as  a  king — as  a  priestly  king.  His  spiritual  kingdom 
and  character  liad  not  been  described,  which  is  first  done  by  the 
prophets.  Nearly  all  of  them  look  upon  Him  that  was  to  come, 
but  as  the  sun-beam  breaks  itself  into  a  thousand  tints,  so  did  this 
prophetic  light  of  heaven,  according  to  the  disposition  of  cacli 
recipient  spirit.  He  is  a  priestly  king  with  most  of  the  seers. 
With  clearness  Isaiah  views  him,  and  recognizes  him  as  God— as 
the  eternal  Father,  and  points  to  the  place  of  his  appearance,  Isa. 
ix,  1 :  "As  in  former  time  Zcbulon  and  Naphtali  suffered  most,  thcre- 
24* 


IS  11.]  Translalion  from  Professor  Tholuch.  375 

f'jrc  Uic  wiiy  of  the  sea,  this  side  Jordan,  Galilee  of  the  Ocntiles 
fliall  bo  ulorihed.  The.  people  that  walked  in  darkness  shall  see  a 
grc;\t  lijhi."*  In  Isaiah  liii,  the  same  Deliverer  is  seen  in  his  suf- 
fering slalc  ;  and  I\Ialachi,  the  last  herald  of  God,  views  liim  that 
was  t"  coine  as  tlie  covenant  Angel  of  the  Lord,  "who  comes  to 
liis  teiiiiile,"  ]\Ial.  iii,  4.  Tin's  Angel  of  the  covenant  is,  however, 
the  s.inic  wlio  led  the  Israelites  in  all  their  travels,  and  therefore 
coiiipK'tely  the  divine  Rcvealer. 

Here  the  old  covenant  closes,  and  the  stillness  that  precedes  the 
storm  now  reigned  for  nearly  four  centuries,  while  the  materials 
were  collecting  for  the  time  when  the  foundations  of  the  earth  should 
i\\vd]ic.  In  this  interim,  the  Angel  of  the  covenant  assumed  the 
inijiroved  shape  of  Wisdom  and  the  Word  of  God — and  St.  John 
avails  himself  of  these  to  represent  the  person  of  the  Saviour.  Tlie 
years  from  I\Ialachi  to  the  Baptist  constitute  a  period  of  prime 
importance.  The  (semina  a^lerna)  religious  ideas  of  all  Asiatic 
creeds  were  introduced  into  AVestcrn  Asia  ;t  what  was  valuable  to 
cnliglitcn  and  improve  tlie  world  was  brought  to  Judea,  in  order 
that  llint  portioiv  which  should  stand  for  all  ages  might  be  woven 
into  tlie  web  of  Jewish  doctrine.  How  could  John  have  depicted 
the  worth  of  his  Master,  had  not  Providence  directed  the  idea  of  the 
liOgos  to  be  generally  known  and  disseminated  ?  In  the  prophets, 
parallel  with  tlie  doctrine  of  the  Messiah,  runs  the  anticipation  of 
the  liiiigdom  of  the  Messiah.  This  point  deserves  extensive  con- 
sideration, but  we  must  now  confine  ourselves  to  the  showing  how 
the  ideas  of  the  seers  at  one  time  mounted  to  a  high  glon,-,  and 
at  aiuiiher  time  remained  in  an  inferior  conception.  The  lowest 
re|.r(jsctilation  of  this  kingdom  is,  tliat  Israel  shall  enjoy  perfect 
jieare  from  witliout,  shall  be  served  by  her  enslaved  enemies,  shall 
(iiiiclly  dedicate  liersclf  to  God,  and,  under  a  ruler  of  the  race  of 
iJavid,  be  liappy.  Luke  i,  74.  With  this  is  united  the  idea  of 
jiarliciilar  righteousness  and  holiness  which  eacli  individual  shall 
exhibit.  Isa.  ki,  G-11:  "Ye  shall  be  named  the  priests  of  the 
Lord  :  men  shall  call  you  the  ministers  of  our  God" — *  *  *  *  • 
"  I'or  as  the  earth  bringelh  forth  her  bud,  and  as  the  garden  causeth 
t!ic  tilings  that  are  sown  in  it  to  spring  forth  ;  so  tlie  Lord  God  will 

•Tliis  j.ussage  is  dilTcrcntlv  translated  in  both  the  EiirIIsIi  and  German 


Trrv, 


t  .Mu.-lly  by  Alcxander'a  Indian  expedition. 


376  Translation  from  Professor  Tholuck.  [July, 

cause  riglitcousncss  and  praise  lo  spring  forth  before  all  the  nations." 
Zcch.  xiii,  1 :  "In  that  day  tlicrc  shall  be  a  fountain  opened  lo  the 
house  of  David,  and  to  the  inhabilanls  of  Jerusalem  for  sin  and  for 
unclcanncss."  The  Kodccincr  will  come  to  the  penitent  and  take 
away  all  sin :  (Isa.  lix,  ~0 :)  "  And  the  Redeemer  shall  come  to  Zion 
and  unto  ihcrn  that  turn  from  transgression  in  Jacob,  saith  the  Lord." 
Isa.  xliv,  22 ;  "I  have  blotted  out  as  a  thick  cloud  thy  transgrcs- 
BJons,  and  as  a  cloud  thy  sins  :  return  unto  me  ;  for  I  have  redeemed 
tlicc."  United  with  this  picture  of  the  holiness  and  righteousness 
of  Israel,  is  the  anticipation  of  the  healing  that  is  also  preparing  for 
the  Gentiles,  and  it  is  in  this  confident  expectation  that  all  nations 
shall  acknowledge  the  God  of  Israel,  that  the  divinity  of  the  pro- 
phecies is  particularly  evident.  Isa.  Ixv,  1 :  "  I  am  sought  of  them 
that  asked  not  for  me  :  I  am  found  of  them  that  sought  me  not :  I 
said,  Ik'lujld  me,  behold  me,  unto  a  nation  that  was  not  called  by 
my  name."  Isa.  Ix,  5:  "Then  thou  shalt  see,  and  flow  together, 
and  thy  heart  shall  fear,  and  be  enlarged  ;  because  the  abundance 
of  the  sea  shall  be  converted  unto  thee,  the  forces  of  the  Gentiles 
shall  come  uiilo  thee."  Still  higher  mounts  the  prophecy  in  Isaiah 
Ixvi,  IS,  19,  and  to  the  conclusion  of  the  book,  where  Judaism 
a])pcars  almost  lo=t  in  the  grand  representation,  wdien  the  prophet 
announces  that  the  Lord  will  take  of  the  heathen  for  priests  and 
for  Levitcs,  and  that  missionaries  of  the  Jews  shall  go  into  all  lands 
to  proclaim  the  Lord  to  the  Gentiles.  The  prophet  can,  therefore, 
predict,  "  Tlic  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as 
the  waters  cover  the  sea,"  Isa.  xi,  9.  Also,  Zecli.  xiv,  9,  "And 
the  Lord  shall  be  king  over  all  the  earth ;  in  that  day  shall  there 
be  one  Lord,  and  his  name  one."  As  we  cannot  imagine  before- 
hand the  divine  preparations,  but  must  deduce  the  laws  of  God 
from  events  as  they  happen,  we  need  not  wonder  that  the  annun- 
cialion  of  the  coming  salvation  was  made  in  ways  so  different  and 
general.  We  remark  too,  with  confidence,  that  whenever  any  thing 
divine  is  exhibited  in  time,  it  accommodates  itself  more  perfectly 
to  the  state  of  diings,  than  was  anticipated  by  the  \\ndcrstanding  of 
man.  Hence  it  is  explicable,  why  the  conceptions  of  the  kingdom 
of  God  were  so  different  among  the  Hebrews  ;  and  why  the  uni- 
versal conversion  to  the  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  appeared  as  a  con- 
version to  the  Jsraelitiish  Jehovah,  and  to  the  sanctuary  at  Jerusalem. 
As  tune  was  fulfilled,  it  was  shown  what  the  Spirit  of  God  had 


IS  11.]  Translation  from  Professor  Thohick.  377 

signified.  But  liow  does  it  happen  diat  friglitfiil  judgments,  and 
tlie  fe^irful  day  of  the  Lord  generally,  are  connected  with  the  annun- 
ciation (if  redemption  through  the  Messiah  ?  The  idea  springs  up 
lui-ily  of  ilscif,  tliat  good  can  never  make  its  appearance  without 
iiivdlviiiL'  a  s]iirilcd  contest  with  evil;  hence  the  reconciliation  of  the. 
two  n-ijrescntalions  can  be  made  in  a  very  natural  way.  Even  ihe. 
15a]iiist,  when  he  saw  the  Lamb  of  God  bearing  the  sins  of  the 
world,  also  imagined  as  near  the  sifting  of  the  wheat,  the  winnow- 
i!ig-fan,  and  the  axe.  The  disciples  too  were  expecting  the  day  of 
vengeance,  and  the  throes  of  time ;  j-et  what  does  Jesus  ?  He 
jilacfs  centuries  between  his  appearance  and  the  catastrophe  of 
time — and  distinguishes  a  second  coming  of  the  Messiah.  If  we 
now  draw  conclusions  from  events,  we  shall  see  how  the  prophets, 
in  gazing  at  the  future,  crowded,  as  if  by  the  laws  of  perspective, 
times  upon  times,  and  confounded  the  dawning  of  God's  earthly 
kmL'doin  with  that  of  his  eternal.  Nevcrtlieless,  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  below  and  above  is  one  ;  for  when  a  man  now  enters  into 
till'  iieavcidy  salvation  of  Jesus  Cln-isl,  he  at  once  becomes  a  citizen 
of  the  eternal  ccoiiomy— he  feels  the  influences  that  flow  from 
above — he  wallis  on  earth,  but  lives  in  heaven.  Hence  our  Lord 
.speaks  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  at  one  time  as  something  already 
appeared — and  at  another  as  something  yet  to  come.  From  this 
point  of  view,  all  the  significations  of  the  phrase  (Schleusner  gives 
eight)  coincide  in  one  of  peculiar  and  eternal  significancy. 

The  development  of  these  glorious  ideas  might  be  extended  ; 
but  we  wish  to  add  a  word  on  the  typical  and  symbolical  meaning 
of  the  ritual  and  history  of  the  Israelites.  Whoever  does  not  bring 
an  accurate  knowledge  of  thcEast  to  the  consideration  of  this  subject, 
will  err  in  iiis  opinions.  In  the  East,  all  is  symbol.  Primitive 
Greece,  with  its  mysteries  and  rites,  breathes  the  oriental  spirit ; —  I 

and  that  every  thing  in  the  erection  of  the  tabernacle  and  temple  j 

should  have  a  secret  meaning  is  very  natural.     The  oriental  loves  | 

all  intuitive  (meditative)  modes  of  instruction.  Calm,  and  claim- 
ing (as  it  were)  but  one  faculty  of  the  soul,  that  of  contemplation,  he 
feels  an  aversion  to  all  discuisive  (investigating)  modes  of  com- 
inviiiicating  knowledge.  As  nature  in  the  East,  unfolding  itself 
wiiJKnii  established  rcgiflarily,  ever  swells  and  germinates,  so  is  the 
orif^nl  il  in  his  mode  of  instruction.  He  produces  an  image  complete, 
and  fdlcd  with  variegated  stuff" — and  then  another  and  anollier,  but 


378  Translation  from  Professor  Tliohicl:  [July, 

never  attempts  to  analyze  the  rich  blossom,  leaf  by  leaf.  Hence 
with  him  speculation  becomes  poetry  ;  history  fable  (mythe  ;)  and 
religion  symbol.  llcncc  is  incorrect  the  opinion  of  those  who 
bcheve  that  all  the  ritual  laws  have  no  end,  (aim ;)  as  well  as  of 
those  who  acknowledge  a  deeper  meaning  in  the  principal  ones  \ 

only.     (Tiic  first  opinion  Maimonides  refuted  among  the  Jews,  the  ^ 

second  'I'homas  Aquinas  defends  in  his  Qu;csliones.)     In  the  same  \ 

way,  also,  much  was  symbolical  among  the  Indians,  Cliinese,  Per-  | 

sians,  Egyptians,  and  Greeks;  but  in  this,  however,  did  Judaism  j 

distinguish  herself,  that  in  her  symbols  for  the  most  part  fixed,  if  \ 

at  the  time  not  recognized  intimations  of  the  future,  were  involved,  | 

so  that  the  symbols  were  not  only  copies  and  images,  but  were  j 

also  types  and  models.     And  as  old  theologians  have  deviated  far  \ 

from  the  point,  it  is  important  that  a  firm  and  intelligent  view  of  the  | 

Old  Testament  types  be  formed,  which  shall  be  able  to  stand  the  5 

attacks  of  moderns.    This  will  be  accomplished  by  making  a  distinc-  ' 

tion  between  iJca  and  fact — ^between  conscious  and  iinconsciovs.  | 

What  I  mean  is  this.     We  should  inquire  wdiethcr  a  fact  of  itself  | 

awakened  in  the  Hebrews  the  additional  idea,  that  a  similar  fact  I 

.should  at  some  time  take  place  in  the  Jlessiah ;  or  whether  the  | 

Hebrews  were   made  funiliar  with  the  mere  knowledge  of  naked  I 

facts,  (as  the  lifling  of  the  serpent,)  or  of  commands,  (as  the  sin-  | 

oflcrings.)      The  last  appears  to  be  true,  for  nowhere  do  we  find  s 

that  ]\Ioses  or  his  people  had  definite  views  of  the  coming  Messiah.  | 

Wc  cannot  then  assume  tlic  consciousness  or  knowledge  of  the 
tyjies  at  the  time  ;  but  must  believe  that  their  use  was  limited  to 
the  general  disscminalion  among  llie  pcojile  of  certain,  and  other- 
v.'ise  not  atlainalilo  ideas,  which  might  be  the  basis  of  some  further 
instruction,  (as  wil.J\out  s\ich  preparatory  ideas  Isaiah  could  not  well 
have  introduced  the  jirojihccy  of  Ins  fifty-third  chapter,)  and  thus 
to  the  preparation  of  the  Christian  economy.  In  this  sense  is 
applicable  to  the  tyjies  on  the  whole  what  Lehmus  has  correctly 
spoken  of  the  prophecies: — "All  Judaism  is,  in  a  particular  sense, 
prophecy,  and  individual  passages  of  its  holy  books  are  but  the 
liighest  expression  of  that  spirit  which  animates  the  whole."  Con- 
sonant with  what  has  here  been  said  are  the  texts  Col.  ii,  17,  and 
Hcb.  X,  1 : — The  shadow  is  the  dim  and  imperfect  image  which 
falls  so  far  short  of  the  glory  and  splendor  of  the  reality,  that  it 
raises  only  the  most  indistinct  ideas  in  reference  to  it.     Let  us  hear 


1811.]  TrunsJalion  from  Professor  Thohtch.  379 

wliat  a  new,  wnrni,  though  not  always  simple  and  clear  commenla- 
tor  (I-uccke)  says  on  the  symbol  of  the  serpent  thai  was  lifted  up 
in  ilic  wilderness  : — "  The  view  which  Jesus  appears  to  take  of  the 
allegory,  is  lliis,  (John  iii,  14  :)  he  considers  the  Old  Testament 
nan  tiivc  as  an  unexplained  symbol  of  the  idea  of  reconciliation. 
And  ilieroin  we  clearly  find  the  two  chief  elements  of  this  idea  :  1st. 
'J'hc  ([uickening  faith,  the  spiritual  trust,  which  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment yet  needed  sensual  sight,  but  in  the  New  is, purely  spiritual 
in  liio  regenerated  people  of  the  Lord  ;  2d.  The  propitiatory  power 
of  death  for  what  is  sinful  and  corruptible, — whence  in  the  Old 
'Yci\MncT\i  figuratively,  but  in  the  New,  in  reality  and  trulli,  death 
is  the  source  of  life — there  earthly  life — here  heavenly.'''  In  this 
sense  the  lifting  up  of  the  serpent  was  ordained  through  divine  Pro- 
vidence as  a  type  and  model  of  that  which  was  to  appear,  that  in 
later  time  faith  in  a  spiritual  redemption  might  be  confurmcd  by  the 
certainly  of  the  antecedent  earthly  one. 

In  the  symbolical  treatment  of  the  history  of  the  Israelites,  we 
refer  to  a  sentiment  in  Solgcr's  Philosophical  Conversations : 
— "  I  low  important  is  it  in  the  consideration  of  history  to  be  able 
to  recognize  some  great  idea  in  every  principal  event  ?"  If  in 
general  history  great  and  divine  ideas  are  to  be  recognized,  we  are 
Jed  to  grant  that  the  ideas  expressed  in  the  histoi-}'  of  the  people 
cf  God  are  much  superior  to  those  found  elsewhere.  Here,  how- 
ever, it  is  not  advisable  to  pursue  this  topic. 

V\'c  thus  see  that  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament  arc  worthy 
of  respect  for  their  antiquity,  doctrine,  and  history  ;  that  the  people 
of  Israel  arc  great;  and  that  the  New  Testament  in  its  doctrine, 
morality,  and  liistory,  depends  upon  the  Old.  .It  is  to  be  much 
desired  tlicn,  that  they  who  design  to  be  laborers  in  the  needy 
vineyard  of  the  King  of  heaven,  should  read  the  books  of  the  old 
covenant  with  that  zeal  and  holy  earnestness  they  deserve,  that  in 
.spirit  they  may  be  prepared  to  act  the  part  of  Phillips  in  opening 
and  explaining  the  Bibles  which  the  Bible  societies  are  nobly  scat- 
tering— and  that  while  they  make  clear  what  the  Spirit  spoke  in 
dark  prophecy,  they  may  point  to  the  morning-star  which  shines  in 
a  dark  place.  The  time  is  past  when  the  Bible  was  trodden  under 
foot ;  but  one  has  reason  to  take  heed  lest  he  fly  awajj^  and  neglect 
Jl.  Api)roach  then  the  Holy  Scriptures,  as  a  book  to  many  very 
lioly  and  valuable— examine  with  reverential  earnestness,   for  the 


3S0  Translation  from  Professor  Tliohich.  [July, 

proving  of  j'our  own  licarl,  wlicllicr  it  conlains  the  trulh.  Passing 
b)'  at  first  those  difficulties  at  which  the  understanding  takes  offense, 
prove  that  only  whicli  concerns  your  heart  and  its  corruption.  If 
the  truth  in  this  rosjiect  be  ap})rchended  aright,  there  will  arise  a 
hunger  for  a  Saviour  and  for  heavenly  power,  without  which  man 
can  never  become  holy  and  pure.  And  when  the  faith  thus  founded 
on  a  rock  has  been  secured,  the  words  of  tlic  Saviour  have  divine 
aulhoritv,  all  else  in  the  Bible  acquires  a  higher  significancy,  and  a 
spirit  of  interj)rctation  is  found  which  in  vain  is  searched  for  in 
many  of  our  crilical-jihilological  commentaries,  but  which  guided 
the  fathers  of  the  churcli  in  the  first  centuries, — which  guided  Lu- 
ther, Calvin,  and  Melanclhon,  and  introduces  into  those  deptlis 
which  the  Spirit  of  God  alone  explores.  With  truth  did  the  noble 
Bacon,  one  of  those  genial  spirits  that  bowed  themselves  before 
the  gospel,  say,  "  Speculative  philosophy  is  like  the  lark,  which, 
warbling  and  thrilling,  rises  high  into  the  air,  but  descends  with  ; 

nothing  ;  while  on  the  other  hand  practical  philosophy  is  compara-  | 

blc  to  tiie  falcon  which  lifts  itself  to  the  clouds,  only  that  it  may  | 

descend  upon  its  prey."     ]5ut  where  can  a  man  of  desire  (and  the  | 

old  witness  for  Jesus,  Amos  Comcnius,  thanked  God  that  from  his  | 

j'oulh  he  had  ever  been  a  man  of  desires— vir  desideriorum)  find  ! 

satisfaction  in  the  striving  and  struggling  of  our  time  after  unfruitful  | 

speculative,  iieighls,  where  the  heart  is  not  full,  and  the  spirit  not  < 

warm  ?    Every  one  who  has  experienced  what  presses  with  ncces-  ' 

sily  on  the  Inunan  heart,  will  exclaim  with  Epicurus:  "  Thanks  to  j 

nature  who  has  made  what  is  necessary,  light ;  and  what  is  difficult,  ^ 

not  necessary."      Moses  too,   says,  Deut.  xxx,  11-14,   "Fortius  j 

commandment  whicli  I  command  ihee  this  day,  it  is  not  hidden  j 

from  thee,  neither  is  it  far  off.     It  is  not  in  heaven,  that  thou  s 

shouldest  say,  \^'ho  shall  go  up  for  us  to  heaven,  and  bring  it  unto  i 

us,  that  wc  may  hear  it,  and  do  it?     Neither  is  it  beyond  the  sea,  i 

that  thou  shoulilest  say,  Who  shall  go  over  the  sea  for  us,  and  bring  ; 

it  unto  us,  that  we  may  hear  it,  and  do  it  ?  But  the  word  is  very 
nigh  unto  thee,  in  thy  moutli,  and  in  thy  heart,  that  thou  mayest 
do  it." 


]Sll.]  Eloquence. 


_\,,.,.  |\\__77,e  PhihsopJuj  of  tlic  Human  Voice:  cmhradng  its 
rhi/si(i!n^ii(il  Ifislory ;  together  ivilh  a  System  of  Piinciph's, 
III/  Vhtdi  Criticism  in  the  Art  of  Elocution  may  he  rendered 
inliiliaihte,  and  Instruction,  dtjiniic  and  comprehensive.  To 
v'hieh  ts  added  a  brief  Analysis  of  Song  and  Kecitalivc.  By 
Jamks  Kusif,  M.D.  Second  edilion,  enlarged.  Pliiladclphia  : 
Grigg  &  Elliott,  1S33.  8vo.,  pp.  432. 

No  ronsidcration  is,  perhaps,  more  humiliating  to  the  pride  of 
Dicrc  intellect,  than  that  contained  in  the  remark  of  Quintilian, 
"'I'hal  an  indilTerent  discourse,  assisted  by  a  lively  and  graceful 
action,  v.ill  have  greater  efficacy  than  the  finest  liarangue,  which 
wants  tiial  advantage."  This  being  the  uniform  sentiment  of  men, 
in  all  ages  and  in  all  the  diflerent  stages  of  civilization,  proves  that 
man  is  a  creature  of  feeling  as  well  as  of  intellect.  Though  the 
ICgyplians  were  the  first  to  cultivate  eloquence  as  an  art,  its  origin 
was  siiuiiltancous  with  the  development  of  tlie  ideas  of  the  just  and 
llu'  licaiuiful — with  the  development  of  tlic  spirit  of  self-interest  and 
arnbiliuii  in  luuiian  society,  which  rendered  it  necessary  to  animate 
a.'id  ]ier.-u':ide  men  to  the  protection  of  their  rights,  or  to  the  defense 
of  oppressed  innocence  ;  and  of  that  in  the  human  inind  which  dis- 
criminates in  sound  between  harmony  and  discord,  and  in  speech 
between  what  is  fit  and  proper,  and  what  is  unfit  and  disagreeable. 
It  owes  its  birth,  then,  to  the  same  age  with  that  of  poetry;  and 
from  the  obscurity  of  its  origin  the  fables  of  the  poets  have  always 
ascribed  it  to  the  gods.  Aristides  calls  eloquence  the  gift  of  Jlcr- 
cury  ;  and  the  people  of  Lystra  supposed  Paul  himself  to  be  that 
god,  calling  liim  Mercurius,  "  because  he  was  the  chief  speaker." 
Ucason  is  the  gift  of  nature;  so  is  the  faculty  of  speech.  But 
as  the  rules  of  logic  are  the  invention  of  man,  and  have  had  their 
origin  in  the  love  of  the  truth  and  of  intellectual  superiority  ;  so  is 
the  art  of  speaking  the  invention  of  man,  and  eloquence,  in  its 
widest  acceptation,  has  sprung  from  that  exquisite  sensibility  im- 
jilanted  in  his  nature,  which  makes  the  mind  feel  with  warmth  and 
energy  the  charms  of  what  is  lovely,  great,  and  good.  In  the  pro- 
fTcss  of  this  art  toward  its  jiresent  state  of  perfection,  it  has  com- 
bined with  a  natural  perception  of  what  is  excellent  in  speech  the  aid 
of  obstrvalion ;  so  that  the  Roman  critic  was  right  when  he  said,  "As 
in  phytic,  men,  by  seeing  that  some  things  promote  health  and  others 
d(  btroy  ii,  fuiined  the  art  upon  those  observations;  in  like  manner,  by 


382  Eloquence.  [July, 

perceiving  that  some  tilings  in  discourse  arc  said  to  advantage,  and 
otlicrs  not,  they  accordingly  marlccd  tliose  things,  in  order  to  imitate 
the  one  and  avoid  the  other;  they  also  added  some  tilings  from 
their  own  reason  and  judgment,  which  being  confirmed  by  use,  they 
began  to  teach  others  wiiat  they  knew  themselves."  Thus  schools 
were  early  established;  and  it  is  deserving  of  remark,  that  in  them 
were  trained  all  the  master  orators  of  Greece  and  of  Rome,  where 
W'c  find  the  most  perfect  models,  and  from  which  sources  we  have 
derived  many  of  oiur  most  valuable  principles 

The  first  great  end  to  be  attained  by  speaking  is  conviction  ;  and 
this  may  often  be  ellecled  simply  by  the  reasoning  power,  strength- 
ened and  directed  by  rules  and  exercise.  Eloquence  is  more  fre- 
quently employed  to  inlhience  the  conduct  of  men  and  to  persuade 
them  to  action  ;  hence  it  has  been  called  "  the  art  of  persuasion." 
Its  nature,  however,  may  be  best  understood  by  the  remark,  that 
its  ver}'  soul  and  essence  consist  in  charming  the  mind,  moving  the 
passions,  and  cajilivating  the  heart ;  and  as  this  may  often  be  done 
where  neither  conviction  nor  action  are  called  for,  a  more  perfect 
definition  would  perlia})s  be,  that  it  is  the  power  of  vividly  exciting 
in  the  minds  of  others  the  deep  or  the  lively  emotions  which  exist 
in  the  speaker's  own  mind,  or  which  it  is  his  purpose  to  excite.  If 
this  is  a  correct  view  of  the  subject,  one  of  the  most  obvious  de- 
ductions is,  that  speaking  is  far  from  always  being  eloquence  ;  and 
another,  not  quite  so  obvious,  is,  that  eloquence  in  some  of  its 
forms  is  suited  to  all  subjects  and  to  all  occasions,  and  is  as  w'ell 
fitted  to  improve  the  charms  of  conversation,  to  add  new  zest  to  all 
the  sweets  of  society,  and  thus  to  multiply  the  sources  of  innocent 
pleasure,  as  it  is  to  shake  the  senate  house,  or  to  thunder  in  the 
forum  or  the  pulpit. 

I'Vom  the  liistory  of  eloquence  we  learn,  that  one  of  the  causes 
which  have  conlribvited  to  its  cultivation  and  perfection  is  civil 
hhcrtij.  Where  force  has  taken  the  place  of  persuasion,  where 
tj'ranny  has  wrested  from  man  his  native  freedom  of  thought  and 
speech,  or  where  corruption  and  venality  have  assumed  the  control 
of  public  affairs,  there  is  left  but  a  small  field  for  the  action  of  elo- 
quence. Another  cause  is  found  in  the  perfection  of  language. 
Great  orators  have  never  arisen  in  a  nation  till  the  language  of  that 
people  has  attained  a  very  good  degree  of  perfection,  nor  after  the 
language  has  lost  its  original  force  and  power.    These  things  being 


l&ll.]  Eloquence.  383 

cqii.il,  llie  c\iltivation  of  eloquence  depends  grcall)'  on  tlie  tcmpcra- 
viciil.  of  a  people.  The  Romans  were  dull  and  plilcgmalic,  com- 
pared Willi  the  Athenians ;  and  hence,  probably,  as  well  as  on 
ncioiiiit  of  their  government  being  less  democratic,  with  all  the 
master  pieces  of  Grecian  eloquence  before  them  as  models,  they 
never  arrived  at  the  perfection  attained  by  the  Grecian  orators.  The 
dillcrence  between  the  eloquence  of  the  Irish  and  the  English  may 
also  furnish  an  illustration  of  this  principle. 

By  common  consent  it  is  admitted  that  eloquence,  and  particu- 
larly oral  eloquence  or  oralorj',  has  never  risen  to  any  high  degree  of 
excellence  in  England  or  in  America.  We  are  not  certain  that  it 
is  well  understood,  to  what  cause  the  failure  to  attain  excellence  in 
this  art — an  art  the  practice  of  which  is  allowed  to  ])osscss  such 
extraordinary  attractions — is  to  be  referred  ;  but  apprehend  there  is 
a  vague  impression  abroad  that  there  exists  some  natural  impodi- 
mcnt  to  its  exercise.  On  the  contrary,  wc  have  no  hesitation  in 
refciring  it  entirely  to  the  want  of  study.  This  is  perfectly  obvious, 
if  tlie  princijiles  which  we  have  deduced  from  the  history  of  the 
art  arc  rorrcct.  For  as  this  cannot,  especially  in  our  cuuiitry,  have 
its  origin  in  a  want  of  civil  liberty,  so  it  has  not  its  origin  in  the 
characteristics  of  our  language,  or  in  the  constitution  of  our  mental 
character.  The  susceptibility  of  emotion  exhibits  itself  strongly 
when  addressed ;  which  presents  satisfactory  evidence  that  liiis 
element  of  the  eloquent  man  is  not  generally  wanting  among  us. 
And  as  to  our  language,  while  it  is  superior  in  several  important 
respects  lo'any  other  modern  tongue,  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be 
dclicienl  in  anj'  thing  requisite  to  a  strong  and  effective  eloquence. 
In  simplicity  and  copiousness  it  excels  even  the  classic  tongues, 
while  in  strength  it  is  inferior  only  to  them.  Among  the  modem 
hinguagcs,  its  flexibility  is  excelled  only  by  the  Italian  ;  and  its 
powers  of  versification  surpassing  those  of  all  others,  prove  that  it 
cannot  be  wanting  in  harmony.  An  English  reviewer  has  then 
well  remarked,— "  The  English  language  is  not  so  destitute  of 
cither  beauty  or  force,  that  we  need  despair  of  seeing  a  consummate 
I'nL'lish  orator." 

'l"hc  failure,  on  the  part  of  American  speakers  at  least,  to  attain 
excellence  in  tlie  practice  of  tliis  art,  is  then  most  obviously  to  be 
relerreil  lo  the  iicc;lecl  to  study  it.  And  let  him  who  doubts  whether 
Kuch  neglect  really  exists,  examine  our  systems  of  education.    The 


384  Eloquence.  [July,  3 

idea  of  teaching  eloquence  is  often  even  ridiculed  ;  and  men  of  the  'I 

,bcst  sense  may  be  found  who  arc  afraiil  to  atlen:pt  any  improvement  | 

of  what  they  call  ihcir  natural  elocution,  Icsl  they  should  spoil  it.  i 

Milton,  and  Ijocke,  and  Sheridan  have  informed  us  that  the  same  I 

defect  lias  marked  the  systems  of  educalion  in  England.     For  this  | 

neglect  to  acquire  so  valuable  a  possession,  there  must  be  some  i 

widely  diffused  and  pervading  causes,  which  being  overcome,  we  | 
may  expect  to  be  furnished  with  an  eloquence  which  will  be  cha- 
racterized by  "  thoughts  that  breathe  and  words  that  burn,"  accom- 
panied with  an  elocution  which  will  want  neither 

"Action,  nor  utterance,  nor  tlie,  power  of  speech, 
To  stir  men's  blood." 

Tlicse  causes,  so  far  as  regards  secular  eloquence,  arc,  Jirsl, 
the  secluded  habits  of  most  of  those  who  prepare  themselves  for 
the  liberal  professions,  or  who  enter  upon  their  practice.  These 
liabits  give  them  accuracy  of  thought  and  maturity  of  judgment  in 
regard  to  abstract  matters,  but  cut  them  off  from  those  habits  of 
thought  and  feeling  which  must  always  characterize  true  eloquence. 
A  second  cause  is  found  in  the  form  of  our  government,  and  in 
those  usages  of  society  which  deprive  men  of  direct  appeals  to  the 
people  by  oral  addresses.  The  facilities  afforded  by  the  press  of 
acii)ig  on  the  public  mind  are  obviously  tending  to  the  neglect  at 
least  of  oral  eloqticnce  ;  and  in  the  recent  exhibitions  of  slump 
oraton/  in  states  from  which  it  has  heretofore  been  excluded,  some 
of  our  most  discerning  men  see  the  dawning  of  a  brighter  day  for 
American  eloquence.  A  tliird  cause  is  found  in  the  modesty  of 
our  public  speakers,  in  conceding  to  their  auditors  all  their  claims 
to  good  sense,  and  thus  avoiding,  as  a  piece  of  inexcusable  arro- 
gance, every  appeal  to  the  passions  or  the  imagination.  How 
strange  the  infatuation,  that  eloquence,  whose  very  essence  is  truth 
and  honesty,  must  be  used  only  to  misguide — that  to  excite 
the  jiassions  is  but  to  mislead  the  judgment !  Stranger  still, 
that  those  wliom  nature  has  endowed  with  the  rich  gift  of 
eloquence,  should,  in  concession  to  this  error,  founded  only  in 
ignorance,  bury  their  talent  in  the  earth  !  Nature  liorself  gives  the 
lie  to  this  theory  of  intellectual  pride,  when  she  compels  men  to 
bow  down  before  the  power  of  elociuencc,  in  spite  of  their  specula- 
tions.    Whitcficld,  and  Chatham,   and  Garrick,  and  Henry  have 


j.s'.ll.]  Pulpit  Eloquence.  3S5 

diuvKmstvalcd  llic  power  of  the  orator's  art,  to  battle  down  all  the 
(.•iitii'iichmcnts  of  this  kind,  behind  wliich  a  mere  unfeeling  stoicism 
can  tiike  slu'llcr ;  and  have  equally  demonstrated  the  truth,  that 
cul.i  rcasciti — however  wc  may  assume  that  it  ought  to  govern  man- 
|;,,,,l_...^,•l(ll)ln  docs.  The  gestures,  tlic  expressions  of  the  counte- 
nance, wuA  the  tones  of  the  voice,  when  legitimately  called  forth, 
and  chastened  by  art,  being  but  the  natural  language  of  emotion, 
cxcrl  a  power  that  can  never  fail  to  reach  the  heart,  and  to  call 
forth  a  syjnpalhelic  response.  To  these  causes  for  the  neglect  of 
iho  study  of  eloquence  may  be  added,  as  regards  the  pleader  at  the 
bar,  the  necessity  imposed  on  him  of  drawing  his  arguments  from 
strict  laws,  statutes,  and  precedents,  in  opposition  to  the  ancient 
usage  of  making  the  appeal  to  the  equity  and  common  sense  of 
the  judges. 

'J'hc.-;e  causes  of  our  inattention  to  the  claims  of  eloquence  arc 
not  indeed  ob=!Cure  ;  but  their  effects  force  themselves  on  our  atten- 
ti'in.  When  Demosthenes  was  to  plead,  Cicero  tells  us,  that  men 
flocked  to  Athens  from  every  part  of  Greece  to  hear  him.  "With 
u.-;,  men  .scarcely  feel  themselves  rewarded  for  llic  loss  of  a  dinner 
by  the  proudest  displays  of  our  oratory ;  and  if  we  turn  to  the 
stage,  where  alone  the  art  of  speaking  is  cultivated,  we  shall  find 
the  sentiment  of  the  English  essayist  of  a  hundred  years  ago 
equally  applicable  to  our  own  time  and  country  : — "  When  old 
Cibber  is  to  act,  the  curiosity  of  the  public  is  more  excited  than 
when  our  prime  minister  is  to  defend  himself  from  a  motion  for 
liis  removal  or  impeachment." 

If  from  secular  eloquence  we  turn  our  attention  to  the  p^ilpit,  how- 
stands  the  case  ?  Here  is  enjoyed  a  freedom  of  discussion  and  of 
appeal  unlaiown  at  the  modern  bar,  and  the  privilege  of  a  direct  oral 
address  to  the  people,  unknown  in  our  halls  of  legislation.  Here, 
then,  we  ought  to  find  a  more  effective  delivery ;  and  more  of  that 
stirring  eloquence  which  in  ancient  days  made  even  the  Roman 
governors  tremble.  And  perhaps  we  should  not  be  saying  loo  much, 
were  we  to  assert,  as  the  universal  sentiment  of  the  judicious,  both  at 
home  and  abroad,  that,  on  the  whole,  the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit 
among  us  is  far  in  advance  of  our  secular  eloquence  ;  and  we  might 
even  say,  that  the  American  pulpit  furnishes  some  examples  of 
vrry  finished  orators,  did  we  not  fear  that  the  remark  would  be 
co.-isidcrcd  as  comprehending  a  greater  number  than  is  intended. 


386  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [July, 

But  is  sacred  eloquence  among  us  wliat  it  might  be  ?    Is  it  wlial  it 
should  be  ? 

"  If  any  one,"  says  the  Edinburgh  Review,*  "  were,  for  the  first 
time,  informed  what  preaeliing  was — -if,  for  example,  one  of  the  ancient 
critics  liad  been  tohi  that  the  time  would  come  wlien  vast  multitudes 
of  persons  should  assemble  regularly,  to  be  addressed,  in  the  midst  of 
llieir  devotions,  upon  the  most  sacred  truths  of  a  religion  sublime  be- 
yond all  the  speculations  of  philosophers,  yet,  in  all  its  most  important 
points,  simple,  nud  of  the  easiest  apprehension  ;  that  with  those  truths 
were  to  be  minglcrl  discussions  of  the  whole  circle  of  human  duties, 
according  to  a  system  of  morality  singularly  pure  and  attractive  ;  tliat 
the  more  dignilied  and  the  more  interesting  parts  of  national  alTairs 
were  not  to  be  excluded  from  the  discourse — that,  in  short,  the  most 
elevating,  the  most  touching,  and  the  most  interesting  of  all  topics, 
were  to  be  the  subject  matter  of  the  address,  directed  to  persons  sulll- 
cicntly  versed  in  them,  and  assembled  oidy  from  the  desire  they  felt 
to  hear  them  handled — surely  the  conclusion  would  at  once  have  been 
drawn,  that  such  occasions  must  train  up  a  race  of  the  most  consum- 
mate orators,  and  that  the  efTusions  to  which  they  gave  birth  must 
needs  cast  all  other  rhetorical  compositions  into  the  shade.  How, 
then,  comes  it  to  pass,  that  instances  are  so  rare  of  eminent  eloquence 
in  the  pulpit  ?" 

To  answer  this  question  fully,  would  carry  us  beyond  the  limits 
prescribed  in  this  article ;  and  yet,  to  make  it  as  practical  as  we 
intended,  it  cannot  be  passed  by  without  at  least  a  brief  notice. 
And,  in  passing,  we  must  express  our  conviction,  that  the  habit  of 
reading  sermons  in  the  pulpit  has  done  more  than  perhaps  any  thing 
else  to  degrade  pulpit  orator}'.  Says  Quintilian,  "The  richest  fruit, 
and,  as  it  were,  the  fairest  reward  of  an  orator's  long  and  laborious 
coiuse  of  study,  is  the  power  of  spealiing  extempore."  The 
wretched  elocution  usually  employed  in  the  reading  of  sermons, 
divests  the  composition,  however  eloquently  written,  of  one  half  its 
power  to  move  the  auditor,  while  it  reacts  on  the  mind  of  him  who 
reads ;  tlnis  at  the  same  time  removing  most  of  the  occasion  for 
excitement,  and  also  the  power  1o  become  excited.  No  practice 
whicli  should  leave  the  sacrcdness  of  the  office  unaffected,  could 
lend  more  strongly  to  divest  the  pulpit  of  its  ligitimatc  power  and 
cfiiciency,  even  if  a  rival  profession  had  devised  the  means  for  pro- 
ducing sucli  a  result. 

But  there  is  an  al]-])crvading  cause  of  tliis  neglect  to  study  pulpit 
eloquence,  both  oral  and  written,  on  which  even  this  practice  of 
reading  sermons  itself  more  or  less  directly  depends ;  and  wliicli 
•  No.  kxxix,  pp.  147, 118. 


IS II.]  Pii!2nt  Eloquence.  387 

is  at  least  co-cxtcnsivc  with  it,  as  regards  the  bounds  of  its  influ- 
ciKc.  This  cause  is,  tlic  prejudice  against  appeals  to  the  passions 
from  the  pulpit,  ostensibly  founded  on  the  idea  tliat  llicy  are 
unworthy  the  dignity  of  the  jjlace,  or  are  ill  suited  to  produce  the 
clTLCts  intended.  Whichever  form  this  objection  takes,  we  shall 
fall  it  the  infidd  objection  to  pulpit  eloquence ;  because,  however 
lio]-,i-sily  it  may  now  sometimes  be  proposed,  but  for  the  existence 
of  .1  sko])licism  ever  jealous  of  the  success  of  Christianity,  we  believe 
ii  never  would  have  been  made.  Till  this  objection  can  be  removed, 
it  will  be  vain  to  commend  to  him  who  is  preparing  for  the  sacred 
o.ljcc,  or  who  lias  entered  upon  it,  any  work  which  promises  to 
imjirove  his  natural  dclivcr)^ 

When  this  objection  assumes  its  undisguised  form,  and  the  open- 
ing of  our  cluurches  on  the  sabbath,  and  the  religious  meetings 
which  are  held  on  otlier  days,  are  enumerated  among  the  causes 
of  insanity*  it  needs  no  opposition, — it  refutes  itself.  But  it  some- 
times puts  on  a  more  attractive  guise,  and  presents  us  with  appeals 
to  the  passions,  as  at  variance  with  addresses  to  the  imderstanding; 
forgetting,  however,  that  it  is  a  great  law  of  our  mental  constitution, 
that  no  passion  can  be  addressed,  no  emotion  excited,  but  through 
the  medium  of  the  intellect.  The  sophistry  is  hid  under  the 
insinuation  that  we  would  excite  the  passions,  while  the  judgment 
remains  unaffected.  Here  are  two  errors;  the  first  lies  in  assum- 
ing that  the  judgment  of  those  who  have  read  the  Bible,  and  heard 
the  gospel  preached  from  childhood,  as  is  the  fact  with  most  of 
those  composing  our  religious  assemblies,  has  remained  unaffected  ; 
the  other,  in  supposing,  that  if  this  were  the  case,  we  could  find 
way  to  the  sensibilities  and  the  heart.  All  observation  and  philo- 
sophy pronounce  both  these  suppositions  false. 

To  come  up  directly  to  this  subject,  let  us  inquire.  What  is  the 
use  of  the  sensibilities,  or  passions,  as  soinetimes  called  ?  We 
answer,  Jirst,  they  constitute  the  only  medium  thi-ough  which  we 
tan  reach  the  will,  or  produce  action.  Where  the  essential  truths 
of  the  gospel  arc  understood  then,  the  leading  object  of  preaching 
ought  to  be  to  excite  the  sensibilities  and  move  the  heart.  But  a 
sirond  use  of  the  sensibilities  is  to  react  on  the  intellect,  and  stimu- 
l.ilc  its  operations.     The  minds  of  the  most  intellectual  rarely  act 

*  -See  "  Uemarks  on  the  Influence  of  Menial  Cultivation,  and  Mentil  E^- 
ciicwcnl  upon  Health.    By  Amaziah  Brigham,  U.  D."  sect.  v. 


38S  Pulpit  Eloquence.  [July, 

with  energy,  except  when  under  the  slinnikis  of  the  emotions. 
What  then  ought  we  to  expect  of  others  ?  They  never  examine, 
reason,  or  think  closely,  except  when  their  feelings  are  moved  ;  the 
consequence  is,  though  their  judgment  is  not  altogether  uninformed, 
yet  if  their  sensibilities  are  aroused  by  some"  appeal  to  their  hopes 
or  their  fears,  they  will  learn  more  of  religious  truth  by  a  single 
sermon,  or  Ijj-  an  hour's  reading,  than  perhaps  they  ever  before 
learned.  By  interesting  the  passions,  you  insure  the  recurrence 
of  those  thoughts  and  images  which  have  been  wont  to  pass  away 
and  be  forgotten.  Did  not  our  hearts  burn  u-ilhin  us  while  he 
talked  viith  its  on  the  way  ?  is  the  expressive  account  given  us  of 
His  eloquence  who  spake  us  never  man  spake. 

If  these  things  are  so,  it  appears  that  while  direct  appeals  to  the 
feelings  are  iin]Hirlant  in  all  cases,  with  the  great  majority  of  men 
they  are  indispensable.  And  why  should  not  these  appeals  be 
allowed  in  the  pulpit,  as  well  as  in  any  of  the  fields  for  the  display 
of  secular  eloquence  ?  The  objects  to  be  accomplished  are  the 
same ; — to  convince,  to  persuade,  and  to  move, — to  point  out  the 
approach  of  evil,  or  the  existence  of  danger,  and  to  warn  men  to 
flee  from  it,  or  to  guard  against  it ;  and  the  laws  by  which  the 
human  mind  is  governed  are  the  same  in  matters  of  religion  as  in 
other  matters.  When  these  appeals  are  made  from  the  pulpit  with 
the  same  power  as  in  other  cases,  they  are  made  with  at  least  equal 
success  ;  and  here  wc  see  why  it  is,  that  those  who  have  wielded 
the  mightiest  j)owcr  in  tlie  pulpit,  have  studied  and  practiced  elo- 
quence ;  and  also,  why  infidelity  should  deny  it  to  the  puljiit, 
and  a  cold  and  spiritless  form  of  Christianity  reject  it.  God 
works  by  means,  and  we  believe  eloquence  to  be  ainong  the  means 
be  employs  to  save  men.  The  pulpit  may  refuse  its  aid ;  but  it 
ought  to  be  considered,  that  whether  used  to  enforce  truth  or  not, 
it  will  be  used  to  enforce  error  ;  and  whether  or  not  it  is  employed 
to  throw  attractions  about  the  exercises  of  the  sanctuary,  and  to 
illustrate  that  book  in  wliich  is  found  ever)'  ornament  of  style  and 
beauty  of  expression,  it  will  be  employed  to  throw  attractions  about 
the  exercises  of  the  stage — that  fountain  of  mord  corruption  and 
of  sin — and  to  cmbelhsh  and  enforce  whatever  is  dangerous  to  the 
Ijest  interests  of  man.  So  trac  is  it,  that  "the  children  of  this  world 
are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children  of  light." 

The  reason  why  wc  are  so  well  satisfied  with  our  frigid  and  spi- 


1841.]  EJoculion.  3S9 

riilcss  eloquence  is,  tlmt  wc  so  rarely  meet  witli  any  filing  better. 
The  ancients  liad  bolli.  There  is  reason  to  believe  tliat  the  modem 
clu(iuence, — calm,  elegant,  and  subtile,  which  instructs  the  reason, 
leaving  tiic  passions  unmoved,  and  which  seldom  raises  its  tone 
above  argument  or  common  discourse, — is  the  Attic  eloquence  of  the 
ancients.  Such  was  the  eloquence  of  Lysias  among  the  Athenians, 
and  of  Calvus  among  the  Romans.  These  were  esteemed  in  their 
time  ;  but  when  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  arose,  who  superadded 
lu  all  llic  excellences  of  these,  the  power  to  move  the  heart  wilh  the 
).:illietic  and  the  sublime,  the  glory  of  the  former  was  eclijjscd  like 
the  brightness  of  the  midnight  tajaer  when  set  in  the  rays  of  the 
meridian  sun.  So,  we  predict,  is  the  eloquence  of  our  day  des- 
tined to  fade  before  the  more  effective  mode  of  address  which 
shall  hereafter  be  adopted,  and  which  shall  break  through  all  the 
arbitrary  rules  which  infidelity,  a  spiritless  piety,  and  a  false  taste 
have  cstablislicd. 

It  is  intended  in  this  discussion,  at  nn  lime  to  lose  sight  of  its 
bearing  on  pulpit  oratory.  If  we  have  succeeded  in  showing,  that 
the  failure  to  arrive  at  excellence  in  dehvery  in  our  country  is 
t<j  be  referred  to  the  neglect  to  make  it  a  study,  and  that  this,  in 
sacred  eloquence  particularly,  is  to  be  referred  to  theoretical  error, 
we  may  consider  our  way  prepared  to  introduce  the  subject  of 
ELOCUTION,  having  thus  bespoken  it  a  favorable  reception. 

Eloquence  can  be  predicated  of  a  book  as  well  as  of  an  oration, 
and  thus  tcch.nically  defined,  relates  mainly  to  the  language  and  the 
thought.  Oratory  is  a  more  specific  term,  embracing  in  its  exten- 
sion only  the  idea  of  eloquence  combined  with  a  graceful  and 
i!n])ressive  dcliveiy ;  and  hence  it  is  styled  oral  eloquence.  In 
a  comparison  of  oratory,  as  thus  defined,  with  mere  grapliic  com- 
position, we  find  the  precise  nature  of  elocution, — oratory  being  a 
harmonious  union  of  the  two.  As  a  science,  elocution  teaches  the 
rules  for  the  effective  delivery  of  wliat  is  eloquent  in  thought  and 
language  ;  as  an  art,  it  is  the  actual  embodying  in  deliver}'  of  every 
accomplishment,  whether  of  voice  or  oi  gesture,  by  which  oratorical 
excitciiicnt  is  superadded  to  the  eloquence  of  thought  and  language, 
and  implies  the  cultivation  of  ever)'  external  grace  with  which  the 
deliver}'  of  language  should  be  accompanied,  whetlier  in  reading, 
in  ri'L-itation,  or  in  spontaneous  utterance.  The  nature  of  the  work 
\UK,CT  review,  however,  excludes  from  the  present  article  the  con- 

VoL.  I.— 25 


390  Elocution.  [July, 

sidcration  of  ^C5^«rc.     If  opporl unity  should  of^'er,  we  may  notice 
this  part  of  the  subject  at  sonic  future  lime. 

As  regards  the  branch  of  elocution  which  relates  to  the  voice, 

the  first  question  which  arises  is, — Can  its  principles  be  taught?  | 

That  they  can  be  made  subjects  of  instruction  may  be  inferred,  j 

first,  from  analogy.     The  voice  and  all  its  modifications  are  the  | 

result  of  voluntary  muscidar  action.     Until,  then,  it  can  be  shown  | 

that  the  muscles  by  which  the  voice  is  produced  and  modified  arc  | 

further  removed  from  the  control  of  the  will,  than  the  other  volun-  I 

tary  muscles,  it  follows  that  this  branch  of  elocution  may  be  taught,  | 

as  well  as  penmanship,  or  the  art  of  wrestling.     Now  the  anatomj^  I 

of  the  vocal  organs  is  well  understood  ;  and  though  we  do  not  know  | 

so  much  of  tlieir  ]ihysiolog}', — of  the  historj'-  of  the  various  vocal  | 

functions,   and  the  mechanisms  on  which  they  severally  dcpejid,  | 

yet  it  is  known,  as  a  matter  of  personal  experience,  that  these  func-  .  | 

tions  may  be  subjected  to  tlie  control  of  tlie  will.     The  analogy  | 

then,  between  the   vocal   functions   and  the  voluntary  powers  of  i 

other  parts  of  the  body,  is  neither  remote  nor  doubtful.     In  support  | 

of  this  inference,   we  maj'-  refer,   secondly,  to  the  influence  of  a  | 

single  example  in  a  public  body,  or  in  a  neighborhood.     It  not  ;j 

infrequently  happens,  that  the  vocal  peculiarities  of  a  single  popular  | 

speaker  give  tone  to  the  delivery  of  all  who  fall  within  the  influence  \ 

of  liis  example, — sometimes  even  to  that  of  a  nation,  or  of  the  age  in  | 

wliich  lie  lives.    Such  cases  could  not  occur,  if  the  peculiar  quality,  | 

inflections,  and  intonations  of  the  voice  were  as  inflexibly  deter-  \ 

mined  by  nature  as  many  suppose.  | 

But  another  question  arises  here, — Can  the  principles  of  this  1 

branch  of  elocution  be  so  taught  as  to  become  practically  useful?  | 

It  is  generally  admitted  that  few  persons  can  safely  rely,  for  the  | 

efl'ecl  of  tlicir  discourses,  solely  on  a  favorable  combination  of  cir-  | 

cumstanccs,  or  on  their  weight  of  cliaracter,  or  even  on  mere  force  ' 

of  thought  or  eloquence  of  language.     Can  instruction  do  any  thing,  | 

especially  as  regards  the  voice,  to  add  to  the  effect  which  may  be  3 

expected  from  these  causes  where  they  exist,  or  in  any  degree  to  | 

supply  their  deficiency  when  wanting  ?      To  this  interrogatory  it  | 

might  seem  sulTicient  to  reply,  that  the  attractions  of  the  stage  in  all  \ 

ages  have  dejiendcd  mainly  on  the  power  of  elocution  possessed  by  J 

the  actors — a  power  wholly  acquired,  and  acquired  too,  in  the  only  , 

schools  where,  in  modern  times,  the  art  of  speaking  has  been  cul-  | 

25*  I 


1641.]  Elocution.  391 

livatcd.     Bosidcs  lliis,  the  Iwo  great  orators  of  antiquity  studiud  | 

elocution  as  an  art.     DcinoslliL-ncs,  whose  voice  was  weak,  whose  | 

ariiculaticn  was  defective,  and  whose  tongue  stammered,  after  an  i 

^nl^l.h•ee^-iul  ellbrt  in  wliich  lie  was  hissed  from  the  assembly,  was  ^ 

jn'isuaded,  by  a  play-actor  whom  he  met,  to  undertake  the  study  | 

of  (.locution  i  and  by  a  course   of  training  such  as  few  have  ever  | 

suljjecied  llieniselves  to,  he  demonstrated  that  the  practical  applica-  | 

lion  of  llie  principles  of  this  art  can  be  learned.    Even  his  great  adver-  } 

sarv  and  rival  in  oratory,  after  reciting  before  the  Rhodians,  at  their  | 

rciiucst,  the  oration  ofDenfiosthenes  for  Ctesiphon, replied  to  their  ex-  | 

picssions  of  admiration,  "What  would  you  have  said  if  j'ou  had  heard  | 

liim  deliver  it !"     With  Cicero,  too,  elocution  was  an  art.     At  the  | 

age  of  twenty-seven,  according  to   Plutarch,  after  having  arrived  I 

at  some  eminence  as  a  pleader,  "though  his  voice  had  a  variety  | 

of  inflections,   it  was   at  the    same  time   harsh   and   unformed ;  i 

and  as  in  the  veliemcncc  and  enthusiasm  of  speaking,  he  always  | 

ruse  into  a  loud  key,  there  w-as  reason  to  apprehend  that  it  might  | 

injure  his  health."     He  consequently  applied  himself  to  teachers.  i 

At  a  subsequent  period,  this  writer  tells  us,  "  his  voice  was  formed;  / 

and  at  the  same  time  that  it  was  full  and  sonorous,  had  gained  a  ; 

sufiicient  sweetness,  and  was  brought  to  a  key  which  his  constitution 
could  bear."  But,  to  show  how  eloquence  was  studied  in  ancient 
limes,  he  stopped  not  here,  but  visited  Asia  and  Rhodes,  to  listen 
to  the  greatest  orators,  or  to  receive  instruction  from  tlie  best 
tearhers.  And  it  was  at  the  latter  place,  when  declaiming  in  Greek 
before  A])ollonius,  that  the  rhetorician,  with  sadness  of  heart  at 
tin-  recollection  of  the  wasted  glory  of  his  native  land,  the  country 
of  Dcmiisthcncs,  said,  "As  for  you,  Cicero,  I  praise  and  admire 
yon,  but  I  am  concerned  for  the  fate  of  Greece.  She  had  nothing 
Icfi  her  but  the  glory  of  eloquence  and  erudition,  and  you  are 
carrying  that  too  to  Rome."  The  ancient  orators  and  rhetori- 
cians all  treated  of  the  voice  as  among  the  first  objects  of  culture  ; 
:eid  wherever  gi-cal  excellence  was  attained  in  its  management, 
il  was  duly  appreciated.  Speaking  of  Trachallus,  Quintilian 
says  :— 

"  .\s  to  his  voice,  it  did  not,  as  Cicero  requires,  upproacli  to  that  of 
asi^  '■xccUfinl  aclor,  for  it  excelled  the  voice  of  tlie  best  actors  1  ever 
b'  li-M.  I  rfnipinbcr,  when  he  pleaded  before  the  first  court  in  ibe 
Jiii;  III  Il.-iU,  while  all  the  other  courts,  as  was  usual,  v.-ere  sittiii?,  and 
full  of  pleaders  speaking  at  their  bars,  he  was  seen  and  hoard  over 


392  Elocution.  [Ju]3^ 

thpn\  all  ;  nay,  applinnlcj  b)'  all  tlic  four  courts,  to  tlic  no  sraaU  mortifi- 
cation of  the  oilier  pleaders." 

TIlis  science  lias  ;ilso  been  studied  b)-  many  of  England's  most 
eminent  orators.  i\Ir.  Pill  learned  elocution  under  llic  tuition  of 
liis  noble  and  eloquent  father ;  and  it  was  of  one  of  his  speeclies 
that  even  Fox  could  say,  "  The  orators  of  antiquity  would  have 
admired,  probably  would  have  envied  it ;"  and  after  listening  to 
anollicr,  i\Ir.  Windham  says  of  himself,  that  "  ho  walked  home  lost 
in  amazement  at  the  compass,  till  then  unknown  to  him,  of  human 
eloquence."  The  case  of  Sheridan  is  a  more  striking  one  still. 
To  adopt  the  language  of  Lord  Brougham, — "  With  a  position  by 
birth  and  profession  little  suited  to  command  the  respect,  of  ihc 
most  aristocratic  couulry  in  Europe — the  son  of  an  actor,  the 
manager  himself  of  a  theatre — he  came  into  that  parliament  which 
was  enlightened  by  the  vast  and  various  knowledge,  as  well  as 
fortified  and  adorned  bj'  the  most  choice  lilerar}'  fame  of  a  Burke, 
and  which  owned  the  sway  of  consummate  orators  like  Fox  and 
Pitt."  But  he  had  studied  the  elocution  of  the  stage — his  father 
liad  been  his  teacher ;  and  although  he  never  acquired  any  great 
eminence  as  a  slalesman,  yet  Pitt  himself  at  one  time  writhed  under 
liis  eloqucucc.  And  it  was  at  the  close  of  his  celebrated  speech 
before  the  House  of  Commons,  upon  the  Begum  charge  in  the 
proceedings  against  Hastings,  that  the  practice  of  cheering  the 
speaker  was  first  introduced ;  and  it  was  on  this  occasion  that  Sir. 
Pitt,  then  prime  minister  of  England,  besought  the  house  to 
adjourn  the  decision  of  the  question,  as  being  incapacitated  from 
forming  a  just  judgment  under  the  influence  of  such  powerful 
eloquence.  Several  of  our  distingTu'shcd  American  orators,  also,  it 
is'  asserted,  arc  ever  ready  to  acknowledge  their  indebtedness  to 
the  stud}'  of  the  principles  of  that  art.  which  is  procuring  for  tliem 
so  rich  a  reward  of  fame.  And  some  of  those  who  have  been 
most  admired,  are  far  from  being  those  for  whom  nature  had  done 
tlie  most. 

Tlicre  is  another  point  of  view  in  which  we  wish  to  place  the 
practical  value  of  the  study  of  the  voice.  We  believe  it  is  now 
the  almost  vmiversal  opinion  of  intelligent  physiologists,  that  the 
"  clerg}"mcn's  disease,"  so  called,  or  the  lan/ngitis,  which  is  be- 
coming so  common  among  the  members  of  the  clerical  profession, 
is  to  be  referred  mainly,  if  not  exclusively,  to  an  artificial,  monoto- 


jv^ll.]  Elocution.  393 

jioiis  niodo  of  speaking,  ;vliicli  violates  all  the  laws  of  the  lunmu 
voice  ns  well  as  of  good  taste.  Under  the  influences  that  arc  now 
at  woi-k,  thi'j  defective  elocution  can  never  be  successfully  avoided 
bui  by  a  1-. ireful  and  scientific  study  of  the  vocal  functions,  in  many 
ca.-;cs,  at  least,  under  a  teacher.  We  have  not  space  to  enlarge  on 
tiiis  viiL'!rcstion  here;  but  hope  that  it  will  call  forth  the  atlcnliou 
of  lliosc  concerned.  And  while  so  many  are  retiring  from  tlic 
.sacred  ollicc,  or  are  filling  it  so  inefficiently,  in  consequence 
of  this  alfcclion,  who  does  not  feel  himself  concerned  in  this 
matter! 

^\'c  scarcely  need  stop  to  answer  the  remark,  that  no  kno\\'ledgc 
of  the  principles  of  elocution  is  sufHcicnt  of  itself  to  secure  excel- 
lence in  oratory.  This  we  allow ;  but  at  the  same  time  assert, 
that  from  the  nature  of  the  case  it  must  be  so  with  every  qualifica- 
tioii  fur  the  practice  of  any  art  or  profession,  where  excellence 
docs  not  depend  on  a  single  power.  The  other  qualifications 
necessary  to  constitute  a  perfecl  orator  arc  not  hidden.  They 
must  have  for  their  foundation  a  well-balanced  mind  :  an  intellect 
cajiable  of  a  full  development,  sensibilities  lively  and  susceptible  of 
powerful  action,  and  the  elements  of  a  will  adequate  to  the  control 
and  regulation  of  all  the  powers  of  the  mind.  The  possession  of 
these  must  be  accompanied  with  judicious  and  various  exercise :  the 
mind  must  be  stored  with  knowledge,  the  reasoning  power  improved, 
the  judgment  matured  and  perfected,  the  powers  of  invention  and 
memory  strengthened,  and  the  imagination  cuhivated  and  chastened; 
the  original  susccptibilitj'-  of  emotions  must  be  kept  alive,  and  a  good 
taste  grafted  thereon  ;  and  the  will  must  be  trained  to  a  perfect  self- 
possession.  If  to  these  natural  powers,  thus  trained,  we  add,  a 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  a  command  of  language,  a  sound  body, 
and  a  good  moral  character,*  little  can  be  wanting — but  a  good 
elocution.  This  last,  however,  is  to  all  the  rest  what  the  living 
lustre  is  to  the  eye,  or  the  play  of  intelligence  to  the  features  of 
beauty.  Strong  as  this  expression  may  be  deemed,  it  is  biU  an 
echo  of  the  judgment  of  the  world.     And  the  failure  of  the  eariy 

*  In  tlu!  pulpit  orator,  there  must  be  suporacldod,  Christian  sonsibiht}',  and 
an  cxpuiisiiiii  and  elevation  of  soul,  which  can  arise  only  from  a  just  pcropptioii 
of  n  1.  -luus  truth,  and  from  a  full  conviction  of  bein^  moved  b)-  the  Holy  Ghost 
lo  »i:i:iil  in  itp.i  sacred  place.  Otherwise,  preaching,  with  every  attraction  that 
cait  be  thrown  about  it,  will  be  but  '"  as  soundmg  brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal." 


391  Elocution.  [July, 

cflbrls  of  llic  great  Grecian  orator  of  itself  proves,  that  if  the  elocu- 
tion is  clecidedl)'  defective,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  amiul  the  cflcct 
of  every  other  possible  excellence.  A  good  speaker  may  be  formed 
by  nature  alone ;  but  excellence  in  oratory  is  the  result  only  of  a 
combination  of  natural  and  acquired  powers.  These  natural  powers, 
when  possessed  in  a  high  degree,  constitute  what  men  call  genius; 
and  that  this  rich  gift  is  bestowed  in  diflerent  measures,  who  can 
doubt,  when  one  of  the  greatest  mathematical  prodigies,  with  all 
the  attractions  of  Drury  Lane  for  the  first  time  before  him,  and 
Garrick  on  the  stage,  on  leaving  could  only  tell  the  mmiher  of 
luoriJs  uttered  by  the  actor.  As  genius,  however,  is  the  possession 
of  but  few — not  one  in  an  age — it  cannot  but  be  a  most  interesting 
inquiry,  hovv  far  that  cultivation,  which,  united  with  genius,  could 
produce  excellence,  can  atone  for  its  absence,  when  wanting ;  or 
to  what  extent  acquired  abilities  can  be  brought  in  to  co-operate 
with  tliosc  original  endowments,  which  to  most  persons  nature  has 
given  so  sparingly.  Though  it  is  conceded  that  instruction  alone 
cannot  make  a  great  orator,  we  can  find  in  this  no  reason  wh}'  it 
should  not  do  what  it  can ;  and  even  if  it  is  said,  that  it  can  do  but 
little,  we  reply,  that  this  furnishes  no  reason  why  that  little  should 
be  withheld.  ■ 

But  what  must  be  the  nature  of  a  good  system  of  instructions 
for  the  voice  ?  In  the  fust  place,  the  entire  system,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, should  be  a  system  of  principles  and  not  of  specific  rules. 
This  will  make  them  few  in  number  ;  and  will  effectually  guard 
against  all  that  constraint  and  stifi'ncss,  which  result  from  a 
mechanical  application  of  a  set  of  minute  technical  rules.  Of  the 
effects  of  instruction  according  to  such  systems,  we  have  had 
too  many  examples  ;  "  but,"  as  has  well  been  said,  "  to  imbue  the 
mind  witii  great  general  principles,  leaving  them  to  operate  imper- 
ceptibly upon  the  formation  of  habit,  and  to  suggest,  without  dis- 
tinct consciousness  of  their  presence,  the  lesson  which  the  occasion 
demands,  is  a  very  different  thing." 

A  second  important  clement  in  this  system  is,  that  these  principles 
must  be  drawn  from  nature.  By  this  is  meant,  that  they  nnist  not 
be  the  result  of  arbitrary  invention,  but  must  be  deduced  from  the 
instinct  and  (uiiversal  taste  of  mankind.  In  the  quality,  and  in  the 
movements  of  the  voice,  as  in  the  fine  arts,  there  is  a  standard  of 
taste,  which  can  be  discovered  only  by  the  most  careful  study  of 


]S11.)  Eloculhn.  395  | 

nature,  and  to  -wliicli  ever)'-  rule  for  their  regulation  must  conform,  f 

or  be  injurious  ratlier  llian  useful.  | 

A  third  characteristic  of  this  s)-slcm,  and  one  towhicliwe  attach 
great  iniporlancc,  is,  that  its  principles,  when  applied  to  practice, 
must  leave  the  man  in  possession  of  his  natural  peculiarities.  Their 
entire  oljject  must  be  to  refine  and  perfect  nature  ;  not  to  pervert  it. 
The  greatest  orators,  even  the  most  popular  players,  are  those  who 
have  made  art  subservient  to  the  development  of  their  own  native 
)K)\vcrs ;  and  who,  at  least,  seem  to  have  been  formed  on  no  model. 
lloro,  as  elsewhere,  art  is  but  the  handmaid  of  nature. 

From  the  results  of  some  sj'stems  of  elocution  ^vhich  have  been 
promulgated,  the  impression  has  gone  extensively  abroad,  that  ihcy 
arc  all  \iscless,  or  worse  than  useless  ;  and  this  lias  furnished  to 
men  in  all  stations  and  ranks  in  life — from  the  archbishop  to  the 
IccHu-er  before  the  village  tyceum— occasion  for  animadversion  on 
all  systems  of  elocution,  which  profess  to  teach  by  rules  the  art  of 
delivery.  Few,  however,  I  apprehend,  coidd  o!)jcct  to  a  system 
which  should  be  in  strict  accordance  with  the  principles  just  laid 
down.  Let  us  sec,  then,  whether  an  eflective  system  can  be 
established  under  those  restrictions  ;  in  other  words,  to  what  extent 
instruction  in  the  branch  of  elocution  under  discussion  can  be 
carried,  without  violating  or  transcending  these  principles. 

We  remark,  then,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  articulation 
can  be  perfected.  A  defective  articulation  is  to  be  referred 
mainly  to  bad  habits  ;  though  it  may  arise  from  some  defect  in 
the  organs  of  speech,  especially  as  regards  those  sounds  \vhich 
are  in  themselves  difficult  of  utterance.  The  fact  that  few  arti- 
culate witli  perfect  distinctness,  from  whatever  cause  it  arises, 
is  gcncrcilly  admitted  ;  while  a  good  articulation,  both  by  the 
ancients  and  the  moderns,  has  ever  been  esteemed  a  primary  ex- 
cellence in  delivery.  That  a  good  articulation  can  be  taught  will 
not,  then,  be  deemed  a  small  matter,  especially  when  it  is  con- 
sidered, that  this  is  one  of  the  marked  excellences  of  some  of  oiu: 
most  effective  orators.  Closely  connected  with  this  is  the  enun- 
ciation, which  relates  to  the  pronunciation  as  exhibited  in  the  com- 
I'liuuds  of  speech,  and  which  can  doubtless  be  perfected  by  a 
^  iiimble  course  of  training.  A  correct  enunciation  is  opposcil  to  an 
uii'.istinct  and  feeble  utterance,  and  also  to  every  thing  in  ))ronun- 
ciation  vulgar,  dialectic,  or  provincial  in  its  charactcv.     \Mio  u  uu!d 


396  Ehculion.  [July, 

wisli  to  liavc  liis  Linhplacc  known  by  the  violations  of  any  of  tlie 
establislicd  usages  of  speech,  or  of  llic  standard  laws  of  vocal  move- 
ment, of  which  lie  should  be  guilty  ?  And  3'Ct,  what  careful  ob- 
server cannot  detect  the  local  inducnces  to  whicli  any  speaker  has 
been  subjected,  whose  elocution  has  been  but  the  acquirement  of 
practice  1 

Tlic  cur,  also,  (-an  be  taught  to  discriminate  in  regard  to  any 
and  all  of  the  vocal  functions.  No  sense  is  more  capable  of  in- 
stmction  tliaii  the  car;  and  yet  there  are  many  who  commence 
speaking  in  public,  and  some  even  who  subsequently  acquire  vciy 
considerable  skill  in  music,  who  cannot  distinguish  between  a  high 
a!id  a  low  note,  or  between  the  rising  and  falling  inflection.  Every 
teacher  of  elocution  or  of  music  knows  well  that  this  is  the  case. 

As  it  is  with  the  car,  so  the  intellectual  taste,  through  neglect, 
may  fail  to  di.-tinguish  between  the  tones  and  inflections  which  mark 
tlie  various  emotions  of  the  mind.  An  individual  tlius  destitute  of 
lastc  has  no  knowledge  as  to  the  mode  in  which  nature  does  really 
express  licrsclf.  llis  own  tones  and  niflections  are  a  language 
■whicli  he  hiin^flf  does  not  imderstand ;  and  hence  he  never  per- 
ceives in  his  own  delivery  the  defects  which  he  may  have  early 
acqviired  by  the  innuence  of  bad  example,*  of  bad  instruction,  or 
of  a  false  reserve,  and  consequently  never  sets  himself  to  work  to 
improve  them.  This  want  of  delicacy  of  perception  cuts  him  oft' 
from  t!ie  power  of  selecting,  from  the  elements  within  his  reach, 
those  which  might  be  the  most  cHicient,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
makes  him  liable  to  be  led  still  further  astray,  by  any  bad  influence 
to  which  he  may  be  exposed.     Hence  the   contagious  nature  of 

*  Many  of  t!ic  iiripprfcclions  and  defects  in  speech  which  are  referred  to 
imluTC,  it  is  bcli.^vcil  .ire  entirely  the  result  of  habits  acquired  under  tlic  irillii- 
ence  of  bad  example.  What  says  Qiiiiitilian  on  this  subject ■? — "First  of  all, 
nurses  oujlit  to  lie  free  from  all  impediment  and  imjiropriety  of  speech.  It  is 
true,  their  morals  ought  to  be  the  first  consideration,  but  it  is  requisite  that 
they  should  speak  witli  propriety.  Their  speech  is  the  first  the  child  hears, 
and  ho  li^ps  out  an  imitation  of  their  words.  By  nature,  we  are  ver)-  tenacious 
of  what  we  imbibe  in  the  dawn  of  life,  in  the  same  manner  as  new  vessels  retain 
the  flavor  which  tliey  first  drink  in.  There  is  no  recovering  wool  to  its  native 
whiteness  aAer  it  is  dyed.  Even  a  child,  therefore,  ought  to  be  used  to  nothing 
in  his  infancy  which  lie  must  afterward  be  at  pains  to  unlearn."  He  adds, — 
"As  to  play-fellow.*,  atid  the  companions  of  young  gentlemen,  I  recommend 
the  same  thing  as  1  do  concerning  nurses." — Instil.,  lib.  i,  c.  1. 


1811.1  Ehciilion.  397 

most  kinds  of  afTcclation  ;  and  licnce  the  existence  of  tliosc  peculiar 
tones,  so  well  expressed  by  the  word  cant,  which  distinguish  the 
cleiixv  of  every  church,  with  but  individual  exceptions,  from  those 
of  e\erv  uthcr  cliurch ;  and  all  of  these,  with  as  few  exceptions, 
from  ihc  members  of  the  other  learned  professions.  These  are 
C4\Killv  at  variance  with  the  true  dignity  of  pulpit  eloquence,  and 
with  the  principles  of  an  effective  elocution.  The  intellectual 
tas'.n,  this  important  discriminating  jjower,  can  be  instracted  and 
rcfmed. 

'i'he  voice  itself  can  be  cultivated.  No  speaker  of  improved 
taste,  whose  voice  has  been  neglected,  but  has  felt  perfectly  av.-axe 
of  tlie  difiiculty  of  executing  what  his  taste  or  his  feelings  have 
directed  him  to  perform,  as  suited  to  his  subject,  or  the  sentiments 
he  was  uttering.  The  cultivation  of  the  voice,  of  which  we  speak, 
may  consist  of  an  increase  of  its  power,  of  its  compass  and  of  its 
flexibility,  and  also  of  an  improvement  in  its  quality.  That  the 
voice  may  be  improved  in  all  these  respects,  is  placed  beyond  con- 
troversy, by  a  reference  to  the  universal  experience  of  the  world, 
wherever  vocal  music  has  been  cultivated ;  and  to  satisfy  ourselves 
that  it  needs  improvement  in  this  last  particular,  as  well  as  in  regard 
to  the  others,  we  need  but  listen  to  the  guttural  or  the  nasal  tones 
which  characterize  not  only  individual  speakers,  but  which  some- 
times extend  to  those  of  a  state  or  country. 

The  ear,  the  intellectual  taste,  and  the  voice  being  thus  improved, 
errors  of  modulation  may  most  obviously  be  corrected,  bad  iiabits, 
so  imivcrsally  formed,  whether  they  relate  to  the  tones,  the  inflec- 
tions, the  emphases,  or  the  cadence,  may  be  broken  up ;  and 
whatever  is  judged  to  be  excellent,  and  the  now  refined  taste  shall 
approve  as  dictated  by  nature,  can  be  incorporated  into  practice, 
and  soon  become  as  familiar  to  the  speaker  as  though  he  had  never 
fallen  under  any  bad  influence,  and  thus  had  never  departed  from 
these  natural  principles.  Without,  however,  such  a  previous  pre- 
paration as  w^e  have  referred  to,  this  work  of  improvement  can 
never  be  performed  successfully.  To  set  the  value  of  all  these 
improvements  in  another,  and  perhaps  stronger  light,  we  need  only 
alhidc  to  the  common  experience  of  speakers,  as  regards  the  sym- 
p.iihy  between  the  feelings  and  the  voice.  How  often  are  the 
toiuitT,  or  even  the  strong  emotions  suppressed  by  the  rcfusrd  of 
the  voice  lo  give  them   expression,  or  by  a  restraint  laid  on  the 


398  Elocution.  [July, 

voice,  wliicli  proliibits  tlicir  cx])ression !  and,  on  the  contrary',  llo^v 
often  are  they  cxcilcd  and  kciit  alive  by  the  use  of  the  appropriate 
melodies  of  speech  !  He,  then,  who  can  modulate  his  voice  at 
pleasiu-e,  and  who  uiidcrslauils  the  language  of  intonation,  has  the 
double  advantage  of  being  able  to  cxjircss  what  he  feels,  and  also 
of  bemg  able  to  give  direction  to  his  feelings,  by  the  control  which 
he  exercises  over  liis  vocal  powers. 

"Without  ])rcU'nding  to  have  enumerated  all  the  points  toward 
whicli  instruction  in  this  department  of  elocution  can  be  directed 
in  accordance  wiih  the  three  princii^les  on  which  we  conceded 
that  all  such  instruction  sliould  be  conducted,  we  may  here  re- 
mark, tliat  until  practical  ehjcution,  as  connected  with  the  voice, 
shall  be  carried  beyond  what  v/e  have  here  indicated,  there  surely 
need  be  no  apprehension  that  it  is  transcending  its  legitimate 
limits. 

Having  now  shown  that  that  branch  of  elocution  which  relates 
to  the  voice  can  be  taught,  and  that  it  can  be  so  taught  as  to  become 
practically  useful ;  and  having  indicated  some  of  the  principles  on 
whicli  a  system  of  elocution  should  be  established, — we  now  pro- 
pose to  enter  immediately  upon  the  examination  of  the  work  whose 
title  is  placed  at  the  head  of  this  article,  with  a  reference  to  ascer- 
taining how  far  it  conforms  in  its  principles  to  those  laid  down,  and 
liovv  far  it  nny  be  considered  as  adapted  to  become  the  basis  of  a 
system  of  practical  elocution.  For  though  not  of  itself  a  practical 
maimal  on  lliis  subject,  by  pointing  out  and  describing  the  actual 
phenomena  of  the  human  voice,  it  does  profess  to  furnish  the  basis 
on  which  tucli  a  work  may  be  established ;  and  this  is  distinctly 
announced  by  the  author  in  the  following  language: — 

"  Tlio  precHHliiig  history  will  furnisli  most  of  the  materials  for  erect- 
ing cliioitinii  into  a  science  :  and  we  must  wait  for  the  nice  observa- 
tions, comparisons,  and  conclusions  of  taslp,  to  frame  a  body  of  rules 
for  (liri'ctin'j;  tiie  best  use  of  tlifso  materials.  Our  analysis  will  not 
only  afibrd  the  means  of  reducing  tlic  vague  and  arbitrary  fashion  of 
the  voire  to  that  standard  of  general  princijiles,  to  which  tlio  fine  ;ivl3 
may  be  brouLdit :  but  it  opens  a  new  tiebl  on  tlie  s\ibject  of  instruction. 
ah' arts  wliicli  liavc  boon  sojiaralod  into  their  oloinoiils,  bavo  born 
recoinposed  into  t;ra!innali(al  solnnn-s  (or  tcachiii!^  by  tliose  eb^niontr,  : 
and  it  now  boeomos  iis  to  try  whal  may  be  t!io  advantaijes,  as  to 
economy  of  time,  ar.il  precision  of  oxcculion,  frDui  following  an  ele- 
mentary ])lan  ill  conimimicating  a  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  uses 
of  human  speech.'' — P.  3  IG. 


1611.]  On  the  Human  Voice.  399 

In  regard  to  this  s)-stcm  wliich  professes  to  be  established  on 
tlic  "philosophy  of  tlic  liuman  voice,"  we  inquire,  then,  for  the 
jHirposc  of  bringing  it  to  the  test  of  rules  already  laid  do\vii, — Is  it 
indeed  a  system  of  principles,  as  contradistinguished  from  a  system 
of  technical  rules  ?  This  point  can  be  best  determined  by  com- 
parison. For  this  purpose  we  will  take  "  Walker's  Elements  of 
Elocution."*  And  we  will  select  an  example  which  will  fairly  ex- 
hibit the  difference  between  the  two  systems.  Mr.  Walker,  after 
devoting  twenty-six  common  duodecimo  pages  to  introducing  and 
exjilaining  the  "  theory  of  inflections,"  proposes  a  "practical  system 
of  the  inflections  of  the  voice."  This  system  he  extends  to  the. 
"compact  sentence,"  and  the  "loose  sentence."  Under  the  former 
he  considers  the  "direct  period,"  and  the  "inverted  period  ;"  and 
under  the  latter,  "  the  antithetic  member,"  "  the  penultimate  mem- 
ber," "the  series,"  "the  compound  series,"  "the  series  of  scrieses," 
"  the  final  pause,  or  period,"  "  the  interrogation,"  "  the  exclama- 
tion," and  "  the  parenthesis  ;" — embracing,  in  the  entire  discussion, 
some  thirty  five  distinct  "  rules,"  with  illustrations,  exceptions,  and 
explanations,  extending  thi'ough  more  than  a  hundred  pages.  Not 
to  inquire  as  to  the  correctness  of  these  rules,  being  founded  as 
they  are  entirely  on  the  structure  of  tlie  sentences,  they  must  ob- 
viously be  of  the  most  technical  character. 

The  course  pm-sued  by  the  author  of  the  Philosophy  of  the 
Human  Voice,  on  the  contrary,  is  first  by  observation  to  learn  what 
are  the  actual  phenomena  presented  by  these  vocal  movements, 
their  number,  and  the  extent  and  character  of  eacli ;  and  then,  by 
induction,  to  ascertain,  as  far  as  possible,  with  the  expression,  of 
wiiiit  kind  of  emotion  nature  has  connected  each.  Of  this  last  part, 
however,  but  little  more  than  an  outline  is  presented, — the  minute 
application  of  the  principles  being  rather  the  part  of  a  practical 
elocutionist,  than  of  a  philosophical  analyst. 

Again,  we  inquire, — Are  these  principles  drawn  from  nature  ? 

"  In  entering  on  this  inquiry,"  says  the  author,  "  I  dcteriniued  to 
avoid  an  express  reference  to  the  piodia-tions  of  former  writors,  until 
thu  iiillucnce  of  natine  over  the  car  should  be  so  far  csinhlisliiMl  as  to 
oliviriie  the  danger  of  aJopling  nnqueslioned  errors,  whicli  the  strongest 
<n"orl  of  independence  often  finds  it  so  diflicult  to  avoid.  Even  a  faint 
ncollottiou  of  school  inslruction  was  not  without  its  forbidilini;  inter- 
r  r.'.ico  with  my  first  endeavors  to  discover,  by  the  car  alone,  tho 
luiMcii  processes  of  speech. 

•American  edition,  1811. 


400  On  the  Hitman  Voice.  [July, 

"  After  obtaining  an  oii'.liiie  of  tlir  -woik  of  aature  in  ilie  voice,  sui'ii- 
cientto  enable  me  to  avail  niysflf  of  the'  useful  tnitlis  of  other  ob^erv,  r^, 
and  to  guard  againl.  llicir  mistakes,  1  consulted  all  accessible  tn-aii^c.s 
on  ;nc  subject,  ])avticul:irly  the  European  compilations  of  the  day,  ilie 
authors  of  which  line  opporluuilics  lor  selection,  not  enjoyed  in  this 
country.  FinJiii j,  on  comparison,  that  the  following  history  of  the 
voice  represents  its  nature  more  extensively  and  dclinitcly  than  any 
knov.-n  system,  I  am  induced  to  oflcr  it  to  the  public.  iSIany  errors 
may  be  found  in  it ;  but  if  the  leading  points  of  analysis,  and  the  gene- 
ral method  be  not  a  copy  from  nature,  and  do  not  prompt  others  to 
carry  the  subject  into  practical  detail,  I  shall  for  ever  regret  the  pub- 
lication. 

"  It  becomes  me,  however,  to  remark,  that  as  this  work  ha.s  not  been 
made  up  from  the  quoted,  or  controverted,  or  accommodated  opinions 
of  authors,  I  shall  totally  disregard  an)'  decision  upon  its  merits,  which 
is  not  made  by  a  scrutinizing  comparison  with  nature  herself." — Intro- 
duction, pp.  xiii,  xiv. 

And  where  and  how  he  studied  nature,  we  may  infer  from  a  sub- 
sequent remark,  touching  a  single  subject  of  his  examination. 

"  The  principles  on  the  subject  of  intonation  have  been  drawn  partly 
from  the  best  practice  of  the  stage  ;  partly  from  tlie  almost  infinite 
variety  of  common  speech  ;  and  partly  from  a  consideration  of  the  suit- 
ableness of  the  various  fashions  of  elocution,  and  a  selection  from 
them,  which  promises  to  be  the  most  cfl'ective  in  ojieration,  and  t'.ie 
most  durably  pleasing  to  a  cultivated  ear." — P.  403. 

'J'iie  third  inquiry  is — Would  a  system  of  elocution  cslalilislied 
on  tlicse  principles  tend  to  divest  a  man  of  his  natural  peculiarities  ? 
Tiiis  is  often  judged  a  matter  of  great  importance,  especially  by 
tliosc  wlio  are  already  known  to  tlie  public.  Tliey  riglilly  fear  an 
atteinpt  to  substitute  an  "  artificial"  voice  and  manner  for  tltat 
which  they  already  have.  The  answer  to  this  question  is  almost 
determined  by  tliosc  given  to  the  preceding.  There  are  but  two 
ways  of  teaching  elocution — one  by  imitation,  the  other  by  prinei- 
plcs.  Tlie  first  may  mislead  ;  the  latter,  if  the  principles  are  drawn 
from  nature,  cannot ;  and  can  never  do  more  than  bring  the  scholar 
back  to  nature,  if  he  has  departed  from  her  teachings,  and  devcloj) 
and  improve  those  powers  which  nature  has  imparted.  The  dcciderl 
preference  which  the  author  under  review  gives  to  the  latter  moiie, 
is  seen  on  every  page  of  his  work  ;  and  it  is  this  that  distinguishes 
it  so  strongly  from  all  works  on  elocution  which  preceded  it.  'J'luis 
he  say.^,  after  liaviiig  given  a  full  analysis  of  the  vocal  functions  : — 

"  It  would  be  possible,  even  without  regard  to  the  alphabet,  to  teach 
a  savage,  by  making  him  follow  a  master  in  reading  current  discourse. 


jStl.l  On  tlic  Htrman  Voice.  401 

So  speakers  liave  been  lauyht  by  a  similar  jirocess  of  imitative  instnic- 
lion.  Bui  I  know  well.  ;nHl  iitlicrs  shall  know  hereafter,  that  the  ana- 
hsis  of  words  into  a  >rraphic  alphabet,  and  the  rudiniental  mode  of 
leaeiiin'^  instituted  thereupon,  do  not  give  more  facility,  in  iho  dis- 
criininaiiiiiis  of  the  eye  on  a  written  page.tlian  the  mode  here  proposed 
will  atlnrd  to  the  student  of  elocution,  who  wishes  to  excel  m  all  tho 
useful  and  elegant  purposes  of  speech." — Pp.  361,  362. 

Ami  of  his  entire  reliance  iipon  the  resources  of  nature,  as  coii- 
tradislinguishcd  from  what  is  arbitrary  or  conventional,  lie  gives 
ihu  following  proof : — 

"  Perhaps  I  am  not  wrong  in  asserting  that  the  art  of  speaking  well 
duos  not  consist  of  those  accidents,  which,  by  arbitrary  use,  are  apt  to 
lead  to  debasement.  Some  of  the  fine  arts  may  receive  the  addition 
of  ornament,  properly  so  called  ;  which,  holding  but  a  separable  rela- 
lionship  to  its  subject  or  principal,  leaves  taste  to  order  the  degree  of 
iis  application,  or  its  total  exclusion.  The  art  of  speaking  is  siibjocl  to 
no  ;^uch  conditions.  The  iinbodying  of  sense  by  sound,  and  the  color- 
ing of  feeling  by  its  expressive  modes,  are  fixed  in  tin  ir  aiiienily  by 
the  unalterable  instincts  of  nature,  or  the  s:ili.->laelory  doeision.,  of  ton- 
ventioii.  All  addition  to  the  nmnbered  signs  of  its  In  nonage  is  re- 
dundancy, and  all  misplaced  utterance  is  aftectation." — Iiilnahictton, 
pp.  xxvii,  xxviii. 

Of  ihe  s3-stem  thus  formed,  and  tlie  art  to  be  cstablislicd  on  it, 
he  thus  speaks  : — 

"  The  system  represents  corrected  and  dignified  nature,  under  that 
form  of  severe  simplicity,  which  is  not  at  first  alluring  to  him  who  is 
unaccustomed  to  look  into  the  resources  and  effects  of  the  arts.  The 
art  of  reading,  thus  established,  will  be  found  to  possess  an  excellence 
which  must  grow  into  sure  and  irreversible  favor,  whenever  it  receives 
that  studious  attention  which  serves  to  raise  the  punsuits  of  the  wise 
above  those  of  the  vulgar.  It  would  lie  too  trite  to  tell  the  whole  story 
of  the  great  painter,  who,  with  his  mind  full  of  fancies  on  the  powers 
of  KalTacUe,  was  disappointed  at  his  lirst  sight  of  the  walls  of  the 
"Vatican,  and  disconsolate  after  his  last." — Pp.  403,  404. 

The  chapter  on  "  the  Mode  of  Instruction  in  Elocution"  antici- 
pates the  inquiry  as  to  the  extent  to  which  instruction  can  be 
carried,  on  the  principles  investigated  in  the  body  of  the  work  ;  and 
it  is  there  most  conclusively  sho\^Ti  that  all  the  objects  can  be  se- 
cured by  a  system  of  practice  based  on  those  principles,  which  it 
falls  within  tlie  province  of  this  department  of  elocution,  as  we  have 
Set  ilicm  forth,  to  teach.  Dr.  Jonathan  Bai'bcr,  in  a  work  entitled 
"  A  (Grammar  of  Elocution,"  has  still  fiuther  developed  these  prin- 
ciples into  an  art ;  and  many  a  teaclier  of  elocution,  we  doubt  not, 


402  On  the  Human  Voice.  [July, 

is  wailing  with  some  interest  his  return  from  Europe,  to  furnisli  a 
new,  and  pcriiajjs  imiirovcil,  edition  of  this  work, — no  longer  now 

in  llie  market.     We  Icirn  from  the  former  publisher,  that  this  may  1 

be  expected  ;  and  wlicn  excculcd  it  will  again  leave  us  little  to  | 

regret,  unless  it  be  that  the  accomplished  author  of  the  Philosophy  j 

of  the  Human  Voice  should  not  himself  consent  to  prepare  a  text  | 

book  for  the  student,  imbodying  the  application  of  the  fmictions  | 

of  the  voice,  as  set  forth  in  his  analysis  to  the  art  of  speaking.    We  i 

fear  it  will  be  long  before  any  other  will  be  found  who  can  carry  I 

the  system  into  practical  detail  so  successfully,  as  could  he  who  \ 
perhaps  as  yet  is  alone  master  of  the  subject. 


Little  remains  but  to  set  forth  more  specifically,  though  briefly,  \ 

what  we  deem  to  be  the  leading  excellences   of  the  work  under  | 

examination.     And  what  will  be  considered  no  small  excellence  in  I 

a  work  of  our  own  daj^  is,  that  it  is  original — being  based  on  no  old  | 

system,  and  standing  pledged  to  the  support  of  no  theor)^     In  the  | 
history   of  analytical   or   of  inductive  science,  nothing  has   been       '        | 

more  common  than  the  transmission  of  traditional  en-ors — errors  | 

introduced  through  impatience,  or  for  watit  of  the  means  or  the  \ 

power  of  extensive  and  accurate  observation,  and  handed  down  on  l 

trust,  without  examination.    Though  often  attempted,  the  field  upon  \ 

which  Dr.  Rush  entered  had  never  in  fact  been  explored ;  and  \ 

it  was  from  the  hidden  treasures  of  vocal  science  that  lay  beyond  \ 

the  researches  of  those  who  had  preceded  him,  that  he  drew  forth  ^ 

those  elements  that  rendered  the  discoveries  of  others  to  him  com-  3 

parativcly  useless,     llis  work  is  the  first  in  which  a  tme  and  com-  | 

prehensivc  record  of  the  vocal  functions  has  been  made  ;  and  being  | 

one  of  the  most  masterly  specimens  of  analysis  that  modern  limes  \ 

have  furnished  in  any  department  in  science,  it  is  well  styled  The  \ 

TmLosornr  cif  the  Human  Voice.  | 

By  resolving  the  functions  of  speech  into  their  elements,  it  lays  | 

the  fovmdalon  for  a  system  of  elocution  beautiful  for  its  simplicity.  | 

A  system  established  on  these  elementarj'  principles  sustains  the  j 

same  relation  to  our  old  systems  that  a  WTitten  language  provided  | 
with  a  jierfect  alphabet — where  each  elementary  sound  has  but 
one  character  to  represent  it,  and  each  character  but  its  appropriate 
sound — sustains  to  a  language  hkc  the  Chinese,  provided  only 
with  its  iiiiwieldy  system  of  wTitten  signs.  The  advantages  thus 
afforded  to  the  learner  are  well  set  forth  by  the  author : — 


IS  11.1  On  the  Human  Voice.  403 

"  Wlicn  an  aitcinpt  is  made  to  teach  an  art  wiiliout  commencing 
wiih  ils  nio«;l  siinplu  clonicnls,  combinations  of  elcnu-nts  pass  with  the 
pupil  for  th(^  flcnunts  themselves,  and  liolding  tliem  to  he  almost  iu- 
liuiU',  he  aliandoiis  his  task  as  hopeless.  An  education  by  the  method 
w  nrc  here  ricommcnding  reverses  tliis  disheartening  duty.  It  reduces 
till'  seeining  iiiliiiity  to  compul.ible  numbers  ;  and  1  anticipate,  with  no 
liiile  conridcnce,  lliat  one  of  the  first  comments  on  the  foregoing  ana- 
ly.-is  will  refer  to  the  unexpected  simplicity  of  means  which  is  there 
f-liown  10  be  operative  in  the  production  of  the  unbounded  permutations 
of  speccli." — P.  361. 

This  work  also  furnishes  new  facilities  for  improving  the  voice, 
as  regards  all  its  characters  of  e.Ycellence, — especially  for  giving 
distinctness  of  enunciation,  power,  compass,  flexibility,  and  a 
nnisical  sweetness  of  voice,  and  correctness  of  intonation.  iVmong 
these  we  may  mention  the  more  careful  analysis  of  the  vocal  ele- 
ments, and  of  the  vocal  inflections,  than  any  writer  has  before  given, 
together  v/itli  the  suggestion  of  a  new  system  of  practice  on  them. 
A  thorough  course  of  practice  on  the  former  cannot  fail  of  impart- 
ing precision  and  accuracy,  as  well  as  energy  to  the  functions  of 
the  organs  of  speech ;  and  the  practice  on  the  latter  will  produce 
a  corresponding  ellect  as  regards  modulation.  And  of  the  effect 
of  these  acquisitions  in  relieving  the  public  spealcer  from  fatigue, 
and  saving  him  from  exhaustion,  he  who  practices  the  ordinary 
dull  manner  can  have  no  conception.  Indeed,  when  we  hear  the 
constrained,  monotonous  manner  which  prevails  in  so  gi-eat  a  portion 
of  the  pulpits  of  cm-  countiy,  we  wonder  that  the  "  clergyman's 
disease"  is  confined  to  so  few ;  and  when  we  chance  to  listen  to 
tlie  speakers  of  the  bar  and  the  senate,  we  wonder  almost  a.<  much 
that  it  should  have  to  bear  the  name  it  does.  It  is  worthy  of  re- 
mark, in  passing,  that  the  acquisitions  of  which  we  are  speaking 
relate  as  avcII  to  the  reader  as  to  the  speaker.  At  the  same  time 
that  they  enable  liim  to  read  v,-ith  ease  to  himself,  they  enable  him 
to  read  well. '  And,  not  to  allude  to  reach'ng  as  a  very  extensive 
source  of  personal  and  social  pleasure,  since  so  many  on  every 
sabbath  have  to  listen  to  the  reading  of  sermons,  as  well  as  the 
Scriptures,  this  surely  is  not  a  consideration  of  small  moment. 
For  if  sermons  must  be  read,  they  at  least  ought  to  be  read  in  the 
best  manner.* 

*  "  IIow  Is  it,"  asked  a  divine  of  a  celebrated  actor,—"  hov.'  is  it,  tlial  pco]>\e 
li.--l..-n  Willi  Eo  much  emotion  to  what  you  say,  which  they  know  to  be  all  ticli- 
tious,  bciidca  that  it  would  bo  no  concern  of  theirs,  even  if  true  ;  w  liilc  V^y 


404 


On  the  Human  Voice. 


:.lu]y, 


On  ihe  general  subject  of  tlic  susceptibility  of  improvement  wliicK 
attaches  to  the  voice,  and  of  the  adaptation  of  his  sj'steni  to  this  end, 
our  author  gives  us  the  following  : — 

"  I  have  thus,  here  and  elsowherc,  enumerated  the  elements  that 
constitute,  as  Air  as  1  know,  ilie  whole  of  speech.  The  only  question 
upon  the  mode  of  instruction  to  be  employed,  is,  whether  we  should 
aim  to  ac.i\:irc  a  full  power  over  these  constituents,  from  their  assem- 
blage in  curirni  discourse,  or  from  a  separate  and  repeated  practice 
on  tlk'ir  iiulividual  forms. 

"  I  uc(  i\  nol  propose  arguments  in  favor  of  the  analytic  and  ele- 
mentary .^\  stciu  10  those, \\ho,  from  the  habit  of  acquiring  the  sciences, 
have  forini'd  for  llieinsclvcs  economical  and  effective  plans  of  educa- 
tion. It  is  well  for  all  olhcrs  to  take  opinion  in  this  matter,  for  a  while 
at  least,  upon  I'ailh  ;  and  lo  know  that  the  only  reason  why  elocution- 
ists have  never  employed  ibis  mode,  is  because  they  have  been  igno- 
rant of  the  subdivided  functions  of  speech.  There  are  too  many 
examples  in  .science  of  the  useful  application  of  the  result  of  analysis 
to  the  purpose  of  rudimental  instruction,  to  suppose  that  the  same 
means  woidd  not  have  been  adopted  in  elocution,  if  they  had  been 
within  reach  of  the  master. 

"  I  look  for  no  more,  from  a  well-devised  practical  system  of  elocu- 
tion, than  we  are  every  day  receiving  from  established  arts.  All  men 
speak  and  re-jsun  ;  for  these  acts,  as  far  as  we  know,  are  as  natural 
as  passion  ;  but  ihe  arts  of  grammar,  rhetoric,  and  logic,  teach  us  to 
do  these  things  iu  the  best  manner.  In  short,  doing  them  in  the  best 
manner  is  signified  by  the  name  of  these  arts. 

"  The  sulijcct  of  elementary  instruction,  here  in  view,  may  be  re- 
gardeil  under  another  aspect. 

"  There  is  in  man  a  will ;  with  a  system  of  muscles  M'hich  the 
common  rails  of  exercise  render  obedient  to  that  will,  and  which 
thereby  produces  motion  in  every  direction,  not  forbidden  by  the  nature 
of  the  joints.  Now,  there  is  scarcely  a  boy  of  any  physical  activity 
or  enterprise,  who  docs  not,  on  seeing  a  circus  rider,  desire  to  imitate 
liim ;  to  calch  and  keep  the  centre  of  gravity  through  all  the  varieties 
of  balance  and  motion.  Yet  this  will  not  prevent  liis  fall,  on  a  first 
trial,  however  natural  the  tie  between  liis  will  and  all  his  muscles  may 

licar  wil)i  comparative  npalliy  from  us,  truths  the  most  suUime,  and  the  n;iost 
iinjwtaut  to  thoiu !"  The  answer  was,—"  Because  wc  utter  fictions  as  if  ihey 
were  rccilitics  ;  you  uUer  realities  as  if  they  wore  fictions." 

We  bcUcve  there  are  many  tliird  or  fourth  rale  actors,  who,  if  they  were  to 
read  the  .Scriji'nrcs  from  our  pulpits,  would  do  it  with  fat  more  effect,  than  ihey 
arc  read  hy  m.iny  of  our  most  distinguished  divines.  Surely  these  things  ought 
not  lo  be.  The  faculty  of  speech  is  the  gift  of  God,  not  less  tlian  is  the  grace 
necessary  to  make  the  minister ;  and  is  one  of  the  talents  for  the  imjirovcment 
of  which  the  Chrlilian  minister  will  ho  held  rcsponsihlc.  How  full  of  meaning 
is  that  expression  of  our  Lord,  "  These  things  ought  ye  to  have  done,  and  not 
to  leave  the  other  undone !" 


1611.]  On  the  Human  Voice.  405 

br.  The  truth  is,  that  without  long  experience,  he  knows  not  what 
is  to  he  tlone  ;  or,  if  ho  knows,  he  is  unable  to  effect  it.  With  some 
aii;i!otry  (o  this  c.ise,  there  are  many  persons,  not  destitute  of  feeling 
or  ]);isVi(iM,  wlio  have  a  free  command  of  the  voice,  on  the  common 
(M-c:isions  nf  lifr,  hut  who  betray  a  faltering  tongue  if  they  attempt  to 
inui:it>'  the  varied  power  of  the  long-pracliccd  speaker.  When  the 
voire  is  pri'jnred  by  elementary  trial,  the  feeling  which  prompts  the 
expression  wil!  find  the  pliant  and  strengthened  organs  ready  to  fur- 
iiisli  a  s.itisfaetory  and  elegant  accomplishment  of  its  designs.  The 
(iru'ans  of  speech  are  capable  of  a  certain  range  of  exertion,  and  to 
fiihi!  all  the  demands  of  a  complete  elocution,  they  should  be  carried 
to  the  full  extent  of  that  capability.  Those  persons  who  possess  bolli 
active  and  delicate  feelings,  and  who  exercise  themselves  in  recitation, 
are  always  approximating  toward  this  utmost  play  of  power  in  the 
voice  by  the  ordinarj'  mode  of  instruction  ;  and  do,  in  a  course  of 
years,  effect  nearly  all  that  the  organs  are  susceptible  of.  But  the 
elcinentavy  mode  here  proposed,  being  founded  on  an  analysis  of 
speech,  at  once  points  out  to  the  pupil  what  is  to  be  attained,  and  thus 
invites  him  to  the  accomplishment  of  every  vocal  possibility.". — Pp. 
35S-3G0. 

In  this  work,  likewise,  tliore  are  subjected  to  analytical  investi- 
gation many  cf  the  most  iinportant  functions  of  the  voice  and  of 
sprccli,  vvliirh  have  never  before  received  special  attention.  As 
one  most  striking  example,  we  may  mention  the  entire  subject  of 
intonation,  which  has  been  styled  the  language  of  the  passions,  as 
words  are  tlie  language  of  the  intellect.  This  subject — as  developed 
in  the  discussion  of  the  "waves,"  with  the  more  simpile  inflections 
of  the  voice,  in  the  various  forms  of  the  cadence,  and  of  the  cin- 
pliasis,  and  in  the  "  phrases  of  melody" — is  one  of  transcendant 
interest  to  liim  who  would  become  an  accomplished  speaker.  To 
this  wc  may  add,  as  a  few  from  among  the  oilier  most  important 
practical  matters,  the  distinction  between  the  functions  of  speech 
and  cf  song,  the  different  kinds  of  stress,  the  doctrine  of  "  syllabi- 
cation," the  "grouping  of  spcecli,"  and  the  more  full  development 
of  the  "  rhyllunus  of  speech,"  which  subjcrt  was  first  introduced 
by  Mr.  Steele."*  When  the  student  of  elocution  shall  have  made 
liiniself  master  of  tliis  science,  then  will  he  be  prepared  to  appre- 
ciate the  service  rendered  by  these  investigations  ;  and  we  have  no 
licsiiation  in  adopting  the  language  of  our  author,  "that  in  the 
future  history  cf  elocution,  as  it  now  is  with  song,  the  masters  of 

*  In  "  An  Essay  toward  establishing  tbe  Melody  and  IMeasure  of  Speech,  to 
bo  exprtss.-(l  and  perpetuated  by  peculiar  Symbols,"  by  Joshua  Steele, 
London,  1775. 

Vol.  I.— 2G 


406  On  the  Human  Voice.  [July, 

its  practice  must  always  be  masters  of  the  science."  For  where 
has  ever  genius  or  industr}-  raised  a  mail  to  the  rank  of  a  master  in 
any  of  the  fine  avis,  who  has  not  applied  his  genius  and  his  in- 
dustry to  the  study  of  its  princijilcs  ? 

The  classilicalions  of  this  work  are  more  perfect  than  have 
usuall}'  characterized  works  on  elocution.  This  is  because  nature 
has  been  taken  as  their  basis.  One  example  must  suffice,  where 
many  might  be  given.  Walker  classes  the  "monotone"  with  llie 
inflections.  Now,  the  inflections — the  rising,  the  falling,  and  the 
circumflex — are  all  given  on  a  single  syllable,  while  the  monotone, 
if  given  in  the  same  way,  ceases  at  once  to  be  a  function  of  speech, 
and  becomes  a  function  of  song.  Designating,  then,  as  it  does,  not 
the  movement  of  the  voice  in  the  pronunciation  of  a  single  syllabic, 
but  of  several,  it  is  here  clas.sed,  where  it  most  obviously  belongs, 
among  the  "  phrases  of  melody." 

On  a  very  perfect  analysis,  and  a  ver)--  beautiful  classification, 
our  author  l>as  constructed  for  this  science  a  nomenclature,  such 
that  all  llic  functions  of  speech  and  of  vocal  movement  admit  of  an  » 

acctrrale  verbal  description.     This  excellence  cannot  but  be  appre-  ! 

ciated,  when  we  refer  to  the  indefiniteness  of  the  terms  heretofore  j 

used.     Let  us,  for  a  single  illustration  must  suffice,  refer  to  those  | 

used  to  indicate  the  various  modulations  of  the  voice.     Walker,  in  | 

liis  chapter  on  "  The  Passions,"  says,  that  in  raillery,  "  the  tone  of  j 

the  voice   is  sprightly,"  and  in  S7icer,  that  it  is  "  sly,  arch,  and  I 

satirical."     And  he  goes  on   speaking  of  "  sweetness  of  voice,"  | 

"compassionate  tenderness  of  voice,"  of  a  "mild  tone  of  voice,"  a  i 

"  benevolent  tone  of  voice,"  and  "  a  tone  chiding,  unequal,  surly,  | 

and  vehement ;"  of  a  "  voice  which  has  the  softness  of  love,  inter-  j 

mixed  with  the  firmness  of  courage,"  and  of  a  "  voice  plaintive  and  | 

inclining  to  eagerness,"  &c.,  &c.     All  these  arc  expressions  which  | 

have  never  been  defined,  and  which  consequently  have  no  fixed  s 

meaning.     They  will  vary  with  everj'  one's  conception  ;  and  espe-  j 

cially  will  they  fail  to  communicate  any  definite  idea  when  brought  | 

down  through  an  age,  or  carried  to  another  countn,'.     They  are  a  : 

circulating  medium  with  no  fixed  standard  of  value.  And  this  is 
but  a  common  defect  in  all  the  old  attempts  at  a  description  of  the 
vocal  functions,     ^^'eslcy*  speaks  of  a  "  full  and  lofty  accent,"  an 

•"Particular  Pailrs  fur  varying  the  Voice." — VVbr^-.s,  vol.  vii,  p.  490,  el 
seq.,  New-York,  1633. 

2G* 


1811.]  On  the  Human  Voice.  407 

"  acccnl  lively  and  cliccrful,"  "  slow  and  mournful,"  or  "  warm  and 
piissionate."  Again,  he  designates  tlie  "  voice"  as  "  soft,  smooth, 
and  niching,"  as  "  sharp  and  sullen,"  as  "  full  and  overflowing,"  as 
"  soft  and  submissive,"  or  as  "  lively  and  cheerful."  \Viicn  he 
uses  llicword  "lone,"  it  is  with  the  same  indefiniteness, — speaking 
of  a  "  dull,  languishing  tone,"  a  "  sharp  and  impetuous  tone,"  and 
again,  of  "  such  a  tone  as  expresses  horror  and  detestation."  After 
alluding  to  some  equally  incfTectual  attempts  at  description  in  this 
branch  of  elocution,  our  author  uses  the  following  language  : — 

"  Those  who  know  what  constitutes  the  accuracy  of  terms,  must 
confess  that  these,  and  similar  attempts  to  name  the  signs  of  expres- 
sion, have  no  more  claims  to  the  title  of  clear  elemental  description, 
than  belojigs  to  the  rambling  signification  of  vulgar  nomenclature.  We 
arc  not  aware  that  no  describable  perceptions  are  assoriatoJ  witli  tliese 
plnasos,  until  required  to  illustrate  them  by  some  definite  discrimina- 
lion  of  vocal  sounds.  '  Grandeur  of  feeling,'  says  a  writer,  '  sliould  be 
expressed  with  pomp  and  magnificence  of  tone  ;'  and  we  in;iy  jircsiune, 
that  if  he  h:id  been  asked  how  pomp  and  magnificence  of  feeling  should 
be  expressed,  he  would  have  said,  by  grandeur  of  tone.  Tliese  are 
words,  not  explanations.  Nor  ca.n  any  v/eight  of  authority  give  them 
the  power  of  description  :  since  the  terms  '  sorrowful  expression'  and 
'  tone  of  solemn  dignity'  in  the  precepts  of  an  accomplished  elocution- 
ist, liave  no  more  precision  of  meaning,  as  to  pitch,  time,  and  force  of 
sound,  than  those  of  '  fine  turned  cadence'  and  '  chaste  modulation,'  in 
the  idle  criticism  of  a  daily  gazette."- — Introduction,  pp.  xix,  xx. 

This  nomenclature  has  been  taken  from  that  of  music,  so  far  as 
its  terms  could  be  applied  to  the  functions  of  speech.  This  will 
suggest,  that  one  who  is  familiar  with  the  scientific  terms  employed 
in  music  will  find  lilllc  diflicully  in  mastering  this  system  ;  which, 
when  fully  introduced  into  our  works  on  practical  elocution,  will 
afi'ord  facilities  for  communicating  instruclion  and  con-acting  errors,* 

*  "  Even  the  faults  of  speakers,"  says  Dr.  Rush,  "though  almost  infinite  in 
variety,  consi--t  of  no  unir.iiiiecl  elements.  Ir  seems  as  if  nature  had  assumed,. 
in  hr-r  ailjusteJ  system  of  si;:ii3,  all  the  jiracticalile  functions  of  the  voice.  The 
corruptuig  art  of  the  tongue  in  deforaiing  her  works,  makes  no  addition  to  their 
constilucnls,  but  performs  its  part  in  human  error  by  misplacing  them."— P.  379. 

And  William  Russell,  Esq.,  of  &[assachusctts,  a  practical  teacher  of  elocu- 
tion, bears  a  testimony  wluch  is  conclusive  on  tliis  point : — "So  far  as  it  is  in 
iiiy  own  power  to  speak,  from  long  critical  observation,  and  raanv  years'  prae- 
tiee  in  instruction,  I  can  freely  declare,  that  there  is  no  quality  of  voice,  used 
m  iho  most  poetic  passages  of  recitation,  and  in  the  most  delicate  and  ethereal 
mierance  ever  occurring,  even  in  these,  that  may  not  be  distinctly  and  exactly 
proscnlcd  to  the  eye,  or  to  the  mind,  by  means  of  the  characters  and  the  nonien- 


408  On  the  Human  Voice.  [July,  | 

I 
such  as  can  never  attach  to  any  system  heretofore  promulgated.  j 

It  will  almost  create  a  new  i]c]iartnicnt  of  criticism — •fiirnisliing  to 
the  critic  in  elocution  tlie  principles  of  his  art,  as  well  as  the  ini-  '. 

plemcnts  for  its  practice ;  and  it  will  furnish  the  means  by  which 
the  hitherto  mysterious  functions  of  speech  can  be  accurately  de- 
scribed, and  any  peculiar  style  of  eloquence  be  handed  down  to  all 
succeeding  ages.  And  what  would  not  the  orator  of  our  day  give 
could  he  read,  in  a  language  which  he  could  not  misunderstand,  a 
full  description  of  the  living,  breathing  intonations  which  infused 
life  and  cncrg)-  into  the  .'speeches  of  the  Grecian  and  Roman  mas- 
ters ?  or  the  Christian  minister,  could  he  hear  the  voice  of  the 
apostles  or  llic  reformers,  as  he  can  read  their  thoughts,  or  per- 
chance sec  their  features  ?  The  graphic  art  can  catch  and  transmit  \ 
to  us  the  flcctiiig  ihought,  the  painter  or  the  sculptor  can  skelcli  all  \ 
the  lincaincnls  of  the  face  and  the  form  ;  but  hitherto  we  have  had  | 
no  means  cf  seizing  upon  and  preserving  the  modulations  of  the  1 
hving  voice.  The  tones  of  that  eloquence  which  first  proclaimed  1 
a  free  salvation  to  our  fatliers,  and  even  of  that  which  stiiTed  them  | 
lip  to  fight  the  battles  of  freedom,  are  fast  dying  away  ;  and  when  a  | 
few  more  shall  pass  from  among  us,  no  record  of  them  will  remain  * 
among  the  living.  The  specific  merits  and  defects  of  future  | 
speakers  of  eminence  shall  go  down  to  posterity  along  with  | 
their  fame.                                                                                                          | 

The  author's  mode  of  illustrating  this  subject  by  diagrams  and  | 

by  the  aid  of  die  musical  scale,  is  also  singularly  perfect.     The  j 

simplicity  and  great  o.\cellence  of  this   element  in  the  work  we  \ 

cannot  here  present;  but  our  admiration   of  it  has  been  greatly  | 

heightened  by  comparing  it  with  the  other  attempts  to  illustrate  I 

the  functions  of  speech,  by  figures  presented  to  the  eye,  which  have  | 

fallen  under  our  notice.     Whoever  will  carefully  examine  Walker's  | 

illustrations  cf  the  Inflections,  and  compare  them  with  those  of  our  j 

author,  will  settle  down  on  the  conclusion,  that  while  the  latter  is  i 

an  exact  illustration  of  nature,  as  hourly  presented  to  the  ear,  the  \ 

former  illustrates  perfectly  none  of  the  vocal  movements  of  the  I 

American  speaker.        .  ! 

We  feel  now  prepared  to  suggest,  finally,  as  a  crowning  excel-  i 

lence  of  Ur.  Rush's  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Voice,  that  it  fur-  | 

clature  e.Tcliibitcd  in  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Voice.'''' — Lectures  Icfore 
the  American  Jiistitute  of  Instruction,  1S37,  p.  248. 


18'11.]  On  the  Human  Voice.  409 

nislics  l!ie  basis  of  a  system  of  elocution  which  tends  directly  to  the 
dcvi.'lopmcnt  of  original  genius.  We  can  conceive  that  a  system 
of  aiiificial,  or  even  of  minute  and  technical  rules,  may  serve  but 
to  cr;iiii[)  and  embarrass  the  action  of  genius  ;  but  this  system  puts 
the  cli-monls  into  the  hands  of  the  scholar,  with  some  general 
jniiirijili's  to  direct  their  application,  while  it  leaves  him  to  make 
for  I'.iiusclf  this  application  to  the  improvement  and  exercise  of  his 
various  natural  powers,  which  constitute  his  genius,  so  far  as  he 
may  be  its  possessor.  As  we  use  the  term  genius  in  diesc  re- 
marks in  the  sense  in  wliich  it  is  used  by  our  author,  we  will  let 
liim  dcline  it : — 

"  Finally,  I  would  recommend  this  analysis,  and  the  practical  in- 
ferences which  have  been  drawn  from  it,  to  tliose  ^^dlo  declare  witli 
contradisliugnishinn-  ascription,  that  elocution  cannot  be  taught,  but 
must  1)0  the  work  of  genius  alone.  Such  persons  look  upon  the  ]iowers 
(if  the  mind  as  a  kind  of  sleight :  the  ways  and  means  of  which  are 
unknown  and  innneasurable.  But  genius,  as  far  as  it  appears  from  its 
works,  is  only  an  aptitude  for  that  deep,  wide,  and  exclusive  attention 
whiidi  jicrccivcs  and  accomplishes  more  than  is  done  without  it ;  and, 
ihrrefurc,  is  not  altogether  removed  beyond  the  reach  of  rules  ;  though 
in  Its  course  of  instruction,  genius  is  oftenest  the  pupil  of  itself 

"  ],ct  those  Mho  are  deluded  by  this  mystic  notion  of  genius  turn 
their  eyes  from  impostors  who  cannot  define  an  attribute  wdrich  they 
do  net  comprehend  ;  let  them  look  to  the  great  sachems  of  mankind, 
and  learn  from  the  real  possessors  of  it,  how  much  of  its  manner  may 
he  described.  Thoy  will  tell  us  that  genius,  in  its  high  meaning,  is 
always  cndiusiastic :  always  characterized  by  passionate  perseverance  ; 
by  the  love  of  an  object  in  its  means  as  well  as  its  ends  ;  by  that  un- 
shaken confidence  in  its  own  powers,  which  converts  the  evils  of  dis- 
coiir.iirenieut  uilo  the  benelits  of  success  ;  wdiich  cares  not  to  be  alone, 
and  is  loo  much  engrossed  with  its  own  triuhs  to  be  disturbed  by  the 
opinions  of  others:  with  a  disentangling  spirit,  to  see  things  as  thoy 
nn'gl'.t  be  ;  and  au  econo.my  of  purpose  to  execute  them  as  they  ought 
lo  be  ;  soaring  iibovc  that  musty  policy  \vhich,  in  its  wary  tact  of  the 
expedient,  would  with  a  world-serving  cpnotude  preserve  them  always 
as  lliey  arc  :  having  the  power  to  accomplish  great  and  useful  works, 
only  because  it  wastes  no  time  on  small  and  selfish  ones,  and  passing 
a  hie  of  warfare  in  detecting  the  impostures  and  follies  of  its  own  age, 
tli.-it  ilip  next,  like  the  consulted  oracle  of  Delphi,  may  pronounce  it 
ihu  cliief  in  wisdom  and  in  virtue." — P.  407. 

As  an  act  of  justice  to  the  author,  as  well  as  to  the  future  reader 
of  the  riulosophy  of  the  Human  Voice,  it  ought  perhaps  to  be  more 
distinctly  staled,  that  it  is  the  work  of  a  physiologi-st,  and  not  of  a 
rh'  lorician  or  an  elocutionist.     As   such,   by  him  who  has  little 


410  On  the  Human  Voice.  [Julv, 

knowledge  of  the  language  or  the  practice  of  music,  and  who  per-  \ 

haps  has  taken  little  notice  of  the  vocal  functions  in  speech,  this  j 

work  can  be  studied  only  with  great  labor,  except  by  the  aid  of  a  ; 

teacher.     With  the  aid  of  the  diagrams,  however,  and  the  well-  | 

defined  vocabulary  of  terms,  the  musician,  or  he  who  is  in  any  way  | 

versed  in  the  science  of  the  voice,  with  but  a  tithe  of  the  perse-  '\ 

verance  tliat  produced  the  work,  will  find  in  its  study,  even  without  ; 

the  aid  of  a  teacher,  a  rich  reward.     In  regard  to  this  view  of  the  ] 

subjcfl,  ihc  author  discourses  thus  :■ —  | 

"  When  llio  iiiijciuious  reader  reviews  the  preceding  history,  I  mu^l  \ 

beg  liini  to  bear  in  mind  its  object.     The  purpose,  was  to  analyze  tlio  j 

funtiinns  of  speech,  williout  a  strict  limitation  of  the  search  to  those  | 

points  wliieh  inii;ht  bo   readily   cognizable  in  ordinary  utterance,  or  \ 

prriclically   inii)iirl:inl  in   oratorical   instruction.     I   have   recorded  no  i 

phenomiMiii]!,  liie  discovery  of  which  has  not  been  the  result  of  patient  | 

ob.scrvuii'jii  iind  oxpeiimeut.     There  are  many  parts  of  the  detail  that  5 

will  at  once  be  recptjnized  b)'  the   competent   critic  :   others   will  bo  | 

afterward  received  into  the  growing  familiarity  of  his  inquiry  :   while  ^ 

some  of  ihir  de.scriptions,  even  if  atlmitied  to  be  true,  will  still  be  con-  \ 

sidcred  as  niceties  of  disputable  application,  and  beyond  the  assigning 
power  of  nde.  As  a  physiologist,  I  conceive  I  have  done  no  more 
than  my  duty  in  this  record,  however  presently  useless  some  of  its 
niinnlinc  may  be.  .Much  of  the  accmnulated  wealth  of  science  is  not 
at  inlcrebt ;  biU  the  borrowers  may  one  day  come. 

"  In  iluis  opening  the  way  for  a  change  of  elocution  from  an  imitative 
art,  with  its  iMliercnt  defects,  to  a  science  with  all  its  constituent  use-  i 

fulness  and  boatity,  it  was  necessary  to  set  forth  every  existing  fimclion : 
that  the  materials  might  tlicreby  be  furnished  toward  the  future  esta- 
blishment (if  a  system  of  instruction,  for  those  who  liave  the  rare  aim 
in  scb.olarship  of  seeking  high  accomplislnneiU,  through  the  abundant 
cncompassihi:  of  principles,  and  the  condensing  economy  of  systematic 
mi'ans.  Th:it  the  inquiry  into  this  subject  has  produced  nmch  that  will 
be  iinj)eice])liblo  to  the  fust  scrutinies  of  the  general  ear,  I  must  be 
convinced  from  the  past  history  of  human  improvement.  The  work  of 
vocal  mybtery  has  been  at  all  times  so  despairingly  abandoned,  as 
beyond  ihe  reach  of  an;dytic  perception,  that  this  supposed  impossi- 
biiily  alone  will  form  a  heavier  argument  against  its  adntission  than  tVie 
real  biU  snrmouiUable  difliculty  of  encountering  nature  in  new  fields  of 
sensation.  Many  wlio  in  fine  organization  of  ear,  and  a  capability  of 
dctie.'.ie  analy.-cis,  possess  the  means  of  successful  investigation,  will, 
too  ]'rolialily,  shrinlc  from  the  labors  of  experiment,  and  seek  to  justify 
infirmity  ol'  resoluliim  by  defensively  assuming  the  hopelessness  of 
trial." — Pp.  31.0.  310. 

It  seems  but  proper,  in  conclusion,  to  allude  to  the  spirit  with 
which  Dr.  Rush  has  prosecuted  and  presented  to  the  public  these: 


1841.]  On  the.  Human  Voice.  411 

laborious  invcsligations,  wliich  arc  so  inipcrfecily  set  forth  in  lliis  ' 

article  : —  i 

"  The  icccption,"'  says  he,  "  -which  may  await  the  following  work,  \ 

can  bo  of  no  important  intprest  to  mc.     By  taking  care,  to  untcilate  tho  i 

season  of  its  rewards  and  jiunishmeiils,  I  have  already  found  them  ia  i 

the  varied  plcasiuc  and  perplexity  of  its  accomplishment.     I  leave  it,  | 

therefore,  for  the  service  of  him  who  may  in  future  desire  to  read  tho  | 

history  of  his  voice.     Tho  system  here  exhibited  will  satisfy  much  of  | 

liis   curiosity  :   for  I  feel  assured,  by  the  result  of  the  rigid  mode  of  | 

ohservalion  employed  throughout  the  inquiry,  that  if  science  should  | 

over  come  to  one  consent  on  tliis  point,  it  will  not  differ  essentially  | 

from  the  ensuing  record.     The  world  has  long  asked  for  light  on  this  | 

subject.     It  may  not  choose  to  accept  it  now  ;  but  having  idl)-  suffered  | 

its  own  opportunity  for  discovery  to  go  by,  it  must,  under  any  capricious  j 

postponement,  at  last  receive  it  here.  ^ 

"  Sir  Jo.shua  Reynolds  has  a  pretty  thought  on  the  labors  of  ambition  ; 

and  tlie  choice  of  fame.     I  do  not  remember  his  words   exactly  ;  but  | 

he  figures  the  present  age  and  posterity  as  rivals — and  those  who  re-  | 

ccivc  the  favor  of  the  one,   as  being  outcasts  from  the  other.     This  | 

condition,  while  it  allows  a  full  but  transient  satisfaction  to  the  zeal  j 

which  \\orks  only  for  a  present  reward,  does  not  exclude  all  prospect  > 

from  tliose  who  are  contented  in  the  anticipation  of  deferred  success.  | 

Tnitli,  whose  fir.st  steps  should  be  always  vigorous  and  alone,  is  often  ^ 

obliged  to  lean  for  support  and  progress  on  the  arm  of  lime  ;  who  then  ! 

only,  when  supporting  her,  seems  to  have  laid  aside  his  wings." —  j 

Introduction,  pp.  xxix,  xxx.  s 

It  is  about  fourteen  years  since  the  Philosopliy  of  the  Human  j 

Voice  was  first  published  ;  and  by  about  that  time  is  its  author  in  j 

advance  of  his  age.    The  work  has  passed  through  but  two  editions ;  j 

of  which  the  publication  of  the  first  was  declined  "  by  the  foremost  | 

publishing  patron  of  American  works,"  on  tho  express  ground  that 
it  was  not  suited  to  this  country.  But  never  lias  truth  leaned  more 
securely  for  support  and  progress  on  the  arm  of  time,  as  another 
age  will  show,  than  she  has  done  in  the  present  case.  While  tiiis 
work  siiall  secure  to  its  author  an  enduring  fame,  it  will  reflect 
honor  on  the  country  and  the  age  that  has  produced  it. 

Dickinson  Colhs:e,  March  22,  1841. 


412  Democracy  m  America.  [July, 


Art.  V. — Democracy  in  America.  Part  II.  The  Social  In- 
jluence  of  Dcrnociacy.  15y  Alkxis  1)e  Tocquuville,  Member 
of  the  Inslitnlc  of  France  and  of  ihe  Chamber  of  Deputies, 
&c.,  &c.  Translated  by  IIenky  Reeve,  Esq.  With  an  Ori- 
ginal Preface  by..1oiiN  C.  SpeiVcer,  Counsellor  at  Law.  New- 
Vcrk.:  J.  &  11  .'G.  Langley,  57  Chatham-street.  1 

The  existence  of  a  government  like  that  of  the  United  States,  \ 

continued,  as  it  has  been,  through  more  than  half  a  century  without  | 

material  change,  and  controlling  a  territory  nearly  equal  to  two-thirds  5 

of  the  entire  continent  of  Europe,  with  a  rapidly  increasing  popula-  I 

lion,  which  has  already  reached  about  seventeen  millions  of  souls,  | 

prosperous,  enterprising,  and  happy,  presents,  to  the  nations  of  the  \ 

old  world,  a  problem,  at  once  so  novel  and  so  diflicult  of  solution  * 

as  to  have  made  it  a  study  of  no  ordinary  interest.     Hence  the  I 

great  variety  of  books  on  America,  descriptive,  abusive,  and  philo-  | 

sophical,  which  liave  teemed  from  the  press,  and  the  greedy  avidity  | 

with  which   every  thing  on  this  topic  has  been  received  by  our  | 

transatlantic  brethren.  1 

.   Nor  is  tliis  at  all  surprising.    A  democracy  like  that  under  which  I 

wc  live  is  an  anomaly  in  the  history  of  the  world.     Such  a  degi-ee  | 

of  human  liberty  as  wc  enjoy  seems  never  to  have  entered  into  the  | 

conceptions  of  the  most  enliglitened  political  philosopher,  much  less  | 

to  have  been  ingrafted  on  any  particular  form  of  government.    From  | 

the  days  of  Adam  downward,  political  freedom  has  been  no  part  1 

of  the  policy  of  nations  ;  although  it  has  gradually  been  gaining  a  | 

foothold  as  light  and  knowledge  have  been  diffused  among  the  masses  ^ 

of  mankind,  and  the  gloomy  superstition  of  past  ages  lias  been  lost  | 

in  the  beams  of  that  glorious  reformation  in  which  wc  live.  | 

The  empires  of  Alexander  and  of  the  Cesars  were  a  vast  im-  | 

provemcnl   on  the  grand  and  gloomy   despotisms   of   China  and  j 

Egypt ;  and  the  rude  tribes  of  the  north  who  despoiled  the  great  | 
Ivoman  empire,   and  parceled  out  its  walled  cities  and  cultivated  | 

fields  among  their  warrior  chiefs,  unconsciously  adopted  into  their  % 

feudal  governments  those  elements,  which,  like  the  leaven  "  hid  in  | 

the  three  measures  of  meal,"  have  ever  since  been  silently  working  | 

the  fnelioration  of  oiu-  race,  and  have  carried  on  the  great  reform  :  >. 

but  still  the  cause  of  human  rights,  as  it  pursued  its   "  course  of  I 

empire"  from  the  ancient  despotisms  of  the  East  toward  the  setting  | 


1811.]  Deynocmaj  in  America.  413  | 

tun,  paused  not  in  its  career  of  glory  until  it  found  a  genial  resting  | 

jiiare   amid  the   sublime  forests   and  mighty  prairies  of  the  new  ? 

world.  I 

It  must  not,  liowcvcr,  be   forgotten,  that,  for  a  long  lime,  the  3 

general  tendency  of  events  tliroughout  the  world  had  favored  this  | 

consunmiation.     The  feudal  barons  of  Europe,  who  had  inherited  \ 

with  t!ic  soil  the  reins  of  government,  and  who  exacted  from  their  I 

vassals  the  most  servile  obedience,  had,  at  an  early  day,  adopted  f 

the  Christian  failli,  and  as  the  clergj'  opened  its  ranks  to  all  classes,  | 

when  the.  church  arose  into  power,  a  way  was  prepared  by  wliich 
llic  degraded  serf  could  take  his  scat  among  the  proudest  of  the 
nobles — the  wars  of  tlic  Crusades  divided  the  possessions  of  the 
aristocracy,  and  caused  the  lower  orders  to  feel  their  strength — the 
invention  of  fire-arms  destroyed  the  supremacy  of  the  priv  ilegcd  orders 
on  the  field  of  battle — the  art  of  printing  cheapened  the  researches 
of  wisdom,  and  carried  the  same  information  to  the  door  of  the 
cottage  and  the  palace — the  growing  taste  for  literature  opened 
chances  of  success  to  learning  and  talent — tlic  enactment  of  civil 
l.nvs  made  room  for  judges  and  advocates,  and  the  wealth  acquired 
bj'  commerce  gave  imjjortance  to  skill  and  enterprise. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  serfs  and  menials  of  the  feudal  ages  gi-ew 
gradually  into  importance  until  in  most  European  kingdoms  they 
liavc  acquired  a  representation  in  tiic  deliberative  bodies,  limited, 
it  is  true,  but  still  beyond  all  price.  "  The  value  attached  to  the 
privileges  of  birth,"  says  M.  de  Tocqueville,  in  liis  .introduction,  | 

"  decreased  in  the.  exact  proportion  in  which  new  paths  were  struck  | 

out  to  advancement.     In  the  eleventh  century  nobility  was  beyond  i 

all  price ;  in  the  liiirloenth  it  might  be  purchased ;  it  was  conferred,  \ 

for  the  first  time,  in  1270  :  and  equality  was  thus  introduced  into  | 

the  government  by  the  aristocracy  itself."  .  j 

But  notwithstanding  these   general  tendencies  in  favor  of  the  | 

emancipation  of  man— notwithstanding  all  that  had  been  gained  by  ! 

tlie  pcojjlc  in  their  oft-repeated  struggles,  the  democratic  principle  | 

was  not  permitted  fully  to  prevail  in  the  old  world ;  nay,  we  may  I 

safely  afiirm,  that  there  it  is  neither  appreciated  nor  understood :  ; 

and  although  its  progress  is  evidently  onward,  and  it  is  destined  ere 
long  to  undermine  the  tottering  thrones  of  those   sovereigns  who  j 

hvild  their  power  by  divine  right,  and  to  level  still  further  the  arti-  j 

filial  distinctions  of  European  society  ;  yet  is  its  course  as  silent  as  { 


414  Democracy  in  America.  [July, 

tlie  smooth  waters  of  some  mii^lily  river  wliosc  restless  current 
sweeps  from  before  it  all  the  feeble  impediments  of  man. 

But  this  principle,  which  has  thus  been  struggling  for  a  feeble 
existcuce  in  feudal  Europe,  is  indigenous  to  America.  It  dwells 
in  the  fastnesses  of  her  hills — it  riots  unrestrained  in  her  deep  and 
gloomy  forests— its  altar  is  found  wherever  the  free  air  braces  the 
nerves  of  her  hardy  sons.  The  little  company  of  forty-one  pilgrims, 
who  formed  themselves  into  a  republic  on  board  the  Mayflower, 
in  Plymouth  harbor,  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  adopted,  as 
the  basis  of  their  compact,  the  sovereignty  of  the  people,  and  from 
that  time  to  the  present,  neither  the  ties  of  consanguinity,  nor  the 
reverence  entertained  b_Y  the  children  for  their  father-land,  nor  the 
]iresencc  of  lio.'^lilc  amiies  sent  to  awe  them  into  submission,  has 
had  power  to  swerve  the  inhabitants  of  the  new  world  from  their 
deep  devotion  to  democratic  freedom. 

"  In  the  bosoms  of  this  people  there  was  burning,  kindled  at 
diflcrcnt  furnace.s,  but  all  furnaces  of  affliction,  one  clear,  steady 
flame  of  liberty ."  The  democratic  principle  was  here  suffered  to 
separate  ilsclf  from  all  those  influences  which  had  repressed  its 
gT-o\\t!i  in  llic  old  world.     It  struck  deep    into  llie  soil,   it  was  I 

mingled  with  the  atmosphere  which  the  emigrants  inhaled,    and  i 

its  consequences  arc  written  on  the  whole   outline  of  American  | 

society.     They  arc  to  be  seen  in  the  perfect  freedom  of  our  institu-  | 

tions- — in  the  cejuality  recognized  by  oiu-  laws — in  the  energy  and  j 

enterprise  of  our  citizens — in  the  liigh  tone  of  our  morals,  and  tb.e  I 

general  education  and  intelligence  of  our  people.  | 

It  is  not,  then,  we  repeat,  a  matter  of  surprise  that  America,  | 

directed  by  influences   so  totally  different  from  those  which  still  » 

cling  to  the  ancient  aristocracies  of  Europe,  should  continue  to  be  ^ 

an  interesting  study  to  the  political  philosopher,  and  that  a  book 
which  discloses  some  of  the  hidden  springs  of  our  success — which, 
in  the  spirit  of  candor  and  fairness,  seeks  to  investigate  all  the 
great  bearings  of  that  wonderful  principle  which  lies  at  the  founda- 
tion of  our  in.<litutions,  and  which  thus  leaves  its  impress  on  every 
thing  American,  should  liavc  awakened  the  curiosity  of  Europe, 
and  produced  a  sensation  throughout  the  civilized  world. 

The  first  part  of  l^cmocracy  in  America  has  been  a  long  time 
before  the  public.  Tlie  author,  ^I.  de  Tocqucvillc,  was  one  of 
two  commissioners  (the    other    being    JI.   de   Beaumont)  sent  to 


1811.]  Democracy  in  America.  415 

Ainciica  some  years  ago,  by  the  Frencli  government,  to  examine 
our  jirisoiis  and  penitentiaries.  On  their  return  to  France  tliey  made 
such  a  report  a.s  produced  an  entire  change  in  the  prison  discipline 
of  JMance.  Eacli  of  them,  soon  after,  brought  out  a  book  on 
Anicrira,  and  tliat  of  JI.  de  Tocqueville  has,  within  a  few  months, 
been  succeeded  by  a  second.  Tiie  value  of  these  books  may  be 
cstiinuled  from  the  rank  which  they  liave  already  acquired  in  the 
lileralurc  of  the  age.  It  is  said  that  M.  Thiers,  while  prime 
minister  of  France,  and  after  the  publication  of  the  first  volimie  of 
"  Democracy  in  America,"  expressed  In'mself  pubhcly  in  his  place 
in  Uic  chamber  of  deputies  as  happy  to  have  lived  in  the  same  age 
that  produced  this  book.  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  other  English 
authorities,  liave  expressed  equal  admiration  of  M.  de  Tocqucville's 
labors  ;  and  Jlr.  Spencer,  the  secretary  of  state  for  New-York,  in 
announcing  the  second  part,  tells  us,  in  his  preface,  that  "  in  Europe 
it  has  taken  its  stand  with  Montesquieu,  Bacon,  Milton,  and 
Jjocke."  This  is  high  praise — much  too  high,  certainly — but  it 
will  serve  to  show  the  interest  which  M.  de  Tocqucville's  labors 
iiavc  excited. 

\\'liat  adds  particularly  to  the  value  of  these  books  is  the 
fact  that  tlic)-  have  not  been  written  for  America,  but  for 
]'Airopc.  In  his  preface  to  the  first  book,  M.  de  Tocqueville,  says, 
— "  It  was  not,  then,  merely  to  satisfy  a  legitimate  curiosity  that  I 
Iiavc  examined  America.  My  wish  has  been  to  find  instruction  by 
which  we  migiit  ourselves  profit."  And  again: — "I  sought  the 
image  of  democracy  itself,  with  its  inclinations,  its  character,  its 
prejudices,  and  its  passions,  in  order  to  learn  what  we  have  to 
iioj)e  and  fear  from  its  progress."  And  having  adverted  to  some 
of  the  causes  which  have  been  at  work  in  Europe,  and  to  which 
we  have  already  alh.ided,  showing  that  the  democratic  principle  is 
developing  itself  more  and  more,  and  that  a  silent  revolution  is 
goinn  forward  in  the  old  world,  lie  says  : — 

"  Tlic  Cliristian  nations  of  our  age  seem  to  me  to  present  a  most 
alarming  sjieclaclc  ;  the  impulse  which  is  bearing  them  along  is 
so  .'Strung  that  it  cannot  be  stopped,  but  it  is  not  yet  so  rapid  tliat  it 
c.-innot  be  guided  ;  their  fate  is  in  their  hands  ;  yet,  a  little  while, 
and  it  may  be  so  no  longer."  He  then  proceeds  to  ])0int  om  the 
duty  which  this  fact  seeins  to  enjoin  ; — "  The  dul}-,"  he  continues, 
"  which  is  at  this  time  imposed  upon  those  who  direct  our  afiairs, 


416  Dcmocrary  in  America.  [July, 

is  to  educate  tlic  democracj' ;  lo  warm  its  faith,  if  that  be  poss;ibic ; 
to  purify  its  morals  ;  lo  direct  its  energies ;  to  substitute  a  know-  j 

ledge  of  business  for  its  iucxiicricncc,  and  an  acquaintance  with  its  5 

true  interests  for  its  blind  propensities ;  to  adapt  its  government  to  | 

time  and  place,  and  to  modify  it  in  compliance  with  the  occurrences  i 

and  the  actors  of  the  age."  f 

In  his  second  book  he  seems  eqirally  anxious  that  the  nations  of  ; 

Europe  should  profit  by  the  secret  revolution  which  is  everywhere 
going  on  in  favor  of  democratic  equality.  At  the  close  of  the 
volume  iic  sums  up  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  wliich  must 
attend  such   a  revolution,   and  ends   with   these  words: — "The  I 

nations  of  our  lime  cannot  prevent  the  conditions  of  men  from  be-  | 

coming  equal ;  but  it  depends  upon  themselves  whether  the  prin-  1 

ciple  of  equality  is  to  lead  them  to  servitude  or  freedom,  to  know-  i 

ledge  or  barbarism,  to  prosperity  or  wretchedness."     It  is  clear  | 

from  these  passages,  as  well  as  from  the  whole  tenor  of  the  work,  | 

tliat  the  author's  chief  object  was  to  produce  an  impression  in  his  i 

own  coiuitr)'  and  in  western  Europe  generally.  3 

"Democracy  in  America"  is  written  in  a  most  attractive  style, 
ratiicr  diflusc  and  florid,  perhaps  too  mucli  so  for  the  definiteness 
which  the  sulijcct  required.  A  little  more  precision,  method,  and 
accuracy,  wuukl  have  added  value  to  these  volumes,  though  tliey 
would  scarcely  have  increased  their  interest.  But  apart  from  the 
mere  choice  of  language  and  form  of  expression,  the  author  has, 
throughout,  maintained  a  seriousness,  dignity,  and  good  faith  which 
is  above  all  commendation,  and  which  contrasts  so  admirably  wiili 
the  flippancy  and  vulgarity  which  are  so  common  in  foreign  books 
on  America,  as  at  once  to  insure  the  confidence  of  tlie  reader.  lie 
lius  certainly  fallen  into  errors,  some  of  which  are  important,  but 
his  volumes,  nevertheless,  contain  no  faults  which  are  not  entirely 
consistent  with  the  most  upriglit  intentions,  while  they  evince  gi-eat 
reach  of  ihnught,  strong  powers  of  observation,  and  a  freedom 
from  ])rejudicc  which,  more  than  an}^  thing  else,  commands  our 
admiration. 

The  first  ]iarl  of  his  work  has,  in  America,  passed  through  four 
editions.  It  ha-,  of  course,  been  extensively  read  and  commented 
on.  Nearly  half  of  it  is  devoted  to  an  account  of  the  political  insti- 
tutions of  this  country,  federal,  state,  and  municipal,  which  is  given 
with  great  accuracy  and  fidelity,  and  is  probably  the  best  condensed 


1811.]  Democracy  in  America.  417 

doscn'plior,  of  tlic  machinery  of  our  govcrnnicnl  before  tlio  public, 
'Jlic  rcninimler  is  more  speculative,  and  consists  of  a  scries  of 
essays,  not  particularly  dependent  on  each  other,  in  wliich  lie  in- 
vcstigalrs  the  tendency  of  various  influences  at  work  in  our  system 
of  gcivernment,  and  traces  their  eiTects.  In  this  part  he  treats  of 
llio  sovereignty  of  the  people — the  character  of  parties — the  liberty 
of  the  press — tlie  government  of  the  democracy — the  advantages 
resnliiny  from  the  government  of  the  deniocracj' — the  omnipotence 
of  niajnrities — the  causes  which  tend  to  maintain  a  democratic 
govcrnnicnt — and  the  probable  future  condition  of  the  three  races 
by  which  our  country  is  peopled. 

We  liave  recounted  some  of  the  most  important  subjects  dis- 
cussed, that  the  reader  who  has  not  found  leisure  to  peruse  the 
volume  may  Understand  something  of  the  grave  matters,  which  the 
author  undertakes  to  handle.  It  contains  several  errors,  which,  in 
this  country,  are  generally  regarded  as  important,  and  which  have 
been  jirdly  fully  noticed  b)'  the  public  press.  These  have  proba- 
bly resulted  from  the  limited  observation  which  a  j'ear's  residence 
afforded,  and  although  they  are  to  be  regretted,  yet  they  by  no 
means  destroy  the  interest  of  the  voliune.  As  it  has  been  a  long 
time  before  the  public,  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  bring  its  corjtents 
under  revision. 

The  second  part  of  "  Dcrnocrac)'-  in  America"  has  but  lately 
issued  from  the  press  in  this  countr}',  and  is  a  continuation  of  the  | 

subject.     The  first  part  was  occupied  in  tracing  the  influence  of  \ 

democracy  on  our  political  institutions :  the  second  part  traces  the  | 

same  cause  in  its  operation  on  oiu:  social  relations.     It  is  divided  | 

into  fo\ir  books,  possessing  all  the  ease  and  elegance,  the  ingenuity  | 

and  vivacity,  of  the  former  volume :  and  those  who  followed  the  \ 

author  with  pleasure  through  the  labyrinth  of  his  speculations  on  | 

om  political  condition,  will  be  equally  delighted  with  his  views  of  f 

tiic  tastes,  feelings,  habits,  and  manners  of  American  society. 

His  first  division  treats  of  the  influence  of  democracy  on  public 
opinion,  thought,  religious  belief,  the  cultivation  of  the  arts,  litera- 
ture, and  language.  The  second  is  devoted  to  the  influence  of 
democracy  on  our  feelings  ;  its  tendency  to  produce  association,  to 
foster  a  disposition  for  thrift,  to  make  us  dissatisfied,  restless,  and 
enterprising.  Jn  the  third  he  examines  the  influence  of  democracy 
on  our  manners ;  explains  how  it  renders  our  intercourse  simple 


418  Democracy  in  America.  [July,  \ 

and  easy  ;  how  it  affects  llie  education  of  women,  and  their  course  i 

of  conduct  as  wives  and  niotlicrs  ;  how  it  diminislies  the  distance  \ 

between  masters  and  servants,  and  produces  a  healthful  action  on  j 

the  morals  of  society.     In  the  fourth  he  discusses  the  influence  of  J 

democratic  opinions  and  sentiments  on  political  society,  the  subjects  i 

of  which  are  more  connected  with  those  treated  of  in  his  first  | 

volume.  \ 

It  will  be  seen  by  this  outline  that  JI.  de  Tocqueville  has  under-  i 

taken  fo  tntcc  the  influence  of  democracy  through  all  the  ramifica-  I 

lions  of  society,  and  his  object  seems  to  be  to  discover  in  what  | 

manner,  and  to  what  extent,  it  has.  changed  the  usages  of  former  | 

times,  and  what  is  to  be  the  final  result  of  that  great  democratic  | 

revolution  which  he  bcliolds  progressing  so  rapidly  around  him.  1 

His  tone  is,  on  the  whole,  decidedly  favorable  to  the  cause  of  de-  1 

mocracy,  though  there  are  many  instances  in  which  he  throws  the  | 

advantage  on  the  other  side.     His  work  is  a  philosophical  inquir}'-  .; 

after  political  and  moral  truth,  and  he  sets  down  the  result  as  he  ^ 

finds  it,  without  regard  either  to  his  own  individual  preferences,  or  ■ 

tliosc  of  the  reader.  i 

Wc  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  the  vast  diiTerence  between  M.  de  ] 

Tocqueville  and  the  common  herd  of  tourists  who  visit  America,  \ 

and  one  feature  of  this  difl'crcncc,  we  think,  has  been  pointed  out  ; 

by  a  contemporary.     It  is,  that  when  he  speaks  of  the  principles  of  \ 

government  he  knows  what  he  is  talking  about.     He  docs  not  \ 

expect  to  find  in  a  countiy,  whose  government  is  based  on  the  j 

sovereignty  of  the  people,  the  same  distinctions,  the  same  tastes, 
the  same  quiet  case  and  dignity,  which  he  sees  where  the  aflfairs 
of  the  slate  are  guided  by  the  privileged  few ;  but  he  is  not  re- 
luctant to  acknowledge  that  although  we  lose  in  some  things,  yet 
wc  gain  in  more. 

The  democratic  principle  of  government  is  so  far  removed  from 
the  aristocratic  that  no  man  in  his  senses  can  expect  it  to  produce 
the  same  effects  on  society.  When  we  cast  our  eye  backward  on 
the  splendid  despotisms  of  antiquity,  we  behold  widi  wonder  the 
grand  results  which  they  have  accomplished.  The  gorgeous 
tombs,  the  gigantic  statuaiy,  the  spacious  temples,  the  lofty  pyra- 
mids wliich  are  so  profusely  scattered  through  the  valley  of  the 
Nile,  and  whose  solid  and  massive  structure  has  caused  thorn  to 
outlive  their  own  histoiy,  strike  us  with  amazement,  and  call  forth 


ISll.]  Democracy  in  America.  419 

all  our  admiration  far  the  wonderful  people  who  could  have  erected 
such  vast  monuments  to  their  ow-n  gloiy.  But  when  we  reflect 
that  these  magnificent  works  could  have  been  constructed  only 
\inder  the  most  perfect  despotism — that  to  accomplish  them,  re- 
quired a  nation  of  slaves,  conti-olled  by  the  will  of  an  absolute 
master,  wc  fall  back  with  pleasure  on  the  general  freedom  of 
modem  ages,  and  are  quite  content  to  part  with  the  giandeur  of 
Egyjit  for  the  comforts  diffused  through  society  bj'  the  milder  sway 
of  etjual  laws. 

It  is  impossible  that  any  one  government  should  combine  the 
advantages  of  all.  As  the  inclination  of  the  earth's  axis  to  the 
cclijjtic  causes  a  variety  of  climates,  each  of  which  favors  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  production,  so  do  the  various  forms  of  government 
develop  their  own  peculiar  results.  In  a  countiy  wlicre  every 
man  is  at  liberty  to  appropriate  his  own  labors,  an  air  of  thrift  and 
comfort  is  diffused  through  every  part  of  the  community,  and  the 
desire  of  well-being  actuates  every  bosom — in  a  country  where 
these  labors  are  plundered  by  the  slate,  or  diverted  to  the  support 
of  aristocratic  pride,  a  privileged  few  may  live  in  the  splendors  of 
royally,  but  the  mass  of  the  people  will  be  chained  to  squalid 
peiuirj'  and  sen'ile  degradation. 

This  is  too  plain  a  proposition  to  have  escaped  the  obscn'ing 
mind  of  such  a  man  as  M.  do  Tocqueville.  "  I  fmd,"  says  he, 
"  that  a  great  number  of  my  contemporaries  undertake  to  make  a 
certain  selection  from  among  the  institutions,  the  opinions  and  the 
ideas  which  originated  in  the  aristocratic  constitution  of  society  as 
it  was  :  a  portion  of  these  elements  they  would  willingly  relinquish, 
but  llicy  would  keep  the  remainder  and  transplant  them  into  their 
new  world.  I  apprehend  that  such  men  are  wasting  their  time  and 
their  strength  in  virtuous  but  unprofitable  efforts.  The  object  is 
nut  to  obtain  the  peculiar  advantages  which  the  inequality  of  con- 
ditions bestows  upon  mankind,  but  to  secure  the  new  benefits 
which  equality  may  supply.  Wc  have  not  to  seek  to  make  our- 
selves like  our  progenitors,  but  to  strive  to  work  out  that  species 
of  greatness  and  happiness  which  is  our  ouii." 

Tliis  is  the  philosophy  which  should  direct  modern  nations,  and 
v-luclihas  particularly  prevailed  in  the  structure  of  our  own  govern- 
ment. ITcrc  the  democratic  principle,  by  which  wc  mean  the 
l^nucq.le  of  vesting  in  the  mass  of  the  people  the  free  direction  of 


420  Democracy  in  America.  [July,  \ 

the  civil  government,  has  been  sufTcrcd  to  take  an  ahriost  unhmitcJ  i 

control  of  the  state.  "There  is  a  country  in  the  world,"  says  M. 
de  Tocqucviile  in  tlic   jircfacc   to  his   first  volume,  "where  the  1 

great  revolution  which   J  am   speaking  of  seems  nearly  to  have  . 

reached  its  natural  limils."     jMearly,  but  not  wholly.     The  framers  '| 

of  our  constitution  thought  fit  to  iutroJuce  into  the  government  a  | 

variety  of  checks  and  balances  in  order  to  guard  against  what  they  \ 

conceived  to  be  the  tendency  in  democracies  to  sudden  and  violent  j 

changes ;  but  willi  this  qualification  the  democratic  principle  pre-  3 

vails  to  its  fullest  extent,  and  its  results  are  recorded  in  our  rapidly  1 

increasing  population,  in  the  productive  energy  of  our  country,  in  1 

the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  our  citizens.  | 

Tliere  is  a  part  of  the  volume  before  us  which  v.ill  be  read  with  i 

peculiar  pleasure.     Wc  mean  those  chapters  Avliich  treat  of  the  | 

influence  of  democracy  on  kindred,  female  education,  and  domestic  \ 

morals.     j\I.   dc   Tocqueville    has    studied   the    character  of   our  \ 

domestic  relations  with  peculiar  care,  and  very  happily  traces  out  \ 

the  changes  which  democracy  has  introduced  into  the  family  circle.  ^ 

He  sees  tiiat  the  principle  of  equality  which  has  so  modified  our  j 

political  institutions,  has  also  diminished  the  distance  between  father  : 

and  son,  wife  and  husband,  master  and  servant,  causing  a  closer  ■ 

connection  and  a  more  easy  familiarity  between  them,   and  pre-  ' 

serving  the  level  in  the  domestic  circle  as  perfectly  as  he  has  shown 
it  to  exist  in  the  political.  He  speaks  in  a  high  tone  of  eulogv'  of 
American  women — sketches  the  difference  between  their  education 
and  that  of  other  nations — and  shows  the  influence  which  this  edu- 
cation exerts  on  their  lives.  His  observations  on  this  subject  are 
to  the  point,  and  worthy  of  public  attention.  He  also  contends  that 
there  is  more  equably  between  the  sexes  in  America  than  else- 
wlicrc,  and  in  his  chapter  on  this  subject  has  placed  the  relative 
standing  of  the  sexes  on  its  true  and  natural  grounds. 

Tiic  elevation  of  women  lias  of  late  been  a  fruitful  topic  of  dis- 
cussion. There  arc  those  who,  unmindful  of  tlic  characteristic 
distinctions  of  tlic  sexes,  would  make  the  man  and  woman  not  only 
equal,  but  alike.  "  They  would  give  to  both  the  same  functions, 
impose  on  both  the  same  duties,  and  grant  to  botli  the  same  rights: 
they  would  mix  them  in  all  things — tlicir  occupations,  their  plea- 
sures, their  business."  Wc  cannot  but  think  that  such  an  equality 
thus  gained  by  setting  at  naught  tlic  clearest  indications  of  the 


IS II.]  Democracy  in  America.  421 

Creator's  will,  and  by  clistorling  that  beautiful  harmony  which  has 
been  dilVused  through  all  the  works  of  the  great  Architect,  instead 
of  elevating  the  ciiaracter  of  tlie  one  sex,  degrades  them  both,  pro- 
ducing "  weak  men,  and  disorderly  women." 

We  arc  rejoiced  to  see,  that  although  such  doctrines  have  frc- 
ciucntly  been  advocated  in  this  countiy,  the  French  philosopher 
1  egards  us  as  particularly  free  from  tlieiv  influence.  "  In  no 
country,"  he  says,  "has  such  constant  care  been  taken  as  in 
America  to  trace  two  clearly  distinct  lines  of  action  for  the  two 
sexes,  and  to  make  them  keep  pace  one  with  another,  but  in  two 
pathways  whicli  are  always  dift'ercnt.  American  women  never 
manage  the  outward  concerns  of  the  family,  or  conduct  a  business, 
or  lake  a  part  in  political  life  ;  nor  are  they,  on  the  other  hand,  ever 
compelled  to  jjcrform  the  rough  labor  of  the  fields,  or  to  make  any 
of  those  laborious  exertions  which  demand  a  great  outlay  of  physical 
strength,  llcncc  it  is  that  the  women  of  America,  who  often  ex- 
hibit a  masculine  strength  of  understanding  and  a  manly  energy, 
generally  preserve  great  delicacy  of  personal  appearance,  and 
always  retain  the  manners  of  women,  although  they  sometimes 
show  that  they  have  the  hearts  and  minds  of  men. 

"  Thus  the  Americans  do  not  think  that  man  and  woman  have 
cither  the  duty  or  the  right  to  perform  the  same  offices,  but  they 
show  an  equal  regard  for  both  their  respective  parts  ;  and  though 
their  lot  is  different,  they  consider  both  of  them  as  being  of  equal 
value.  Tiiey  do  not  give  to  the  courage  of  woman  the  same  form 
or  the  same  direction  as  to  that  of  man  ;  but  they  never  doubt  her 
courage  :  and  if  they  hold  that  man  and  his  partner  ought  not  always 
to  exercise  their  intellect  and  understanding  in  the  same  manner, 
they  at  least  believe  the  understanding  of  the  one  to  be  as  sound 
as  that  of  the  other,  and  her  intellect  to  be  as  clear.  As  for  myself," 
lie  continues,  "  I  do  not  hesitate  to  avow,  that,  although  the  women 
of  the  United  States  are  confined  within  tho  narrow  circle  of  do- 
mestic life,  and  their  situation  is,  in  some  respects,  one  of  extreme 
dependence,  I  have  nowhere  seen  women  occupying  a  loftier  posi- 
tion ;  and  if  I  were  asked,  now  that  I  am  drawing  to  the  close  of 
tins  work,  in  M'hich  I  have  spoken  of  so  many  important  things  1 

done  by  ilic  Americans,  to  what  the  singular  prosperity  and  grow-  j 

ing  strength  of  that  people  ought  mainly  to  be  attributed,  I  shoidd  i 

reply— 7  o  the  superiority  of  their  women" 

Vol.  I.— 27 


422                              Democracy  in  America.                           [July,  \ 

We   confess   lliat  tliis  view  of  llie  subject,    by  one  who  has  -i 

proved  himself  to  be  so  accurate  an  observer  of  society,  has  afforded  '■■ 

us  the  highest  satisfaction.     It  places  the  equality  of  the  sexes  in  , 

a  view  so  natural  and  easy,  as  to  put  to  shame  those  political  phi-  ; 

losopliers,  who,  acting  on  the  false  supposition  that  women  are  j 

degraded,  because  they  arc  not  permitted  bj^  the  usages  of  society  | 

to  mount  the  rostrum,  to  exercise  the  elective  franchise,  and  to  | 

figure  in  the  halls  of  legislation,  are  clamoring  for  their  elevation.  \ 

We  are  not  among  those  who  contend  for  the  intellectual  inferiority  | 

of  women  :  but  there  is  a  beautiful  fitness  in  all  the  works  of  God,  J 

and  it  docs  not  require  the  eye  of  a  philosopher  to  discover  that  her  ^ 

empire  is  not  amid  the  tumult  and  strife  of  the  great  and  stormy  % 

world, — that  to  maintain  her  equality  with  her  lord,  it  is  not  ncces-  J 

sary  to  measure  swords  with  him  on  the  field  of  battle,  nor  to  force  ^ 

the  gentle  tones  of  her  voice  into  the  masculine  strain  of  bold  debate  | 

in  the  senate.     She  is  his  equal  in  another  and  a  belter  sense,  and  J 

wc  rejoice  that  JI.  do  Tocqueville  has  not  found  in  the  influences  i 

of  democracy  a  power  to  lure  her  from  the  true  sphere  of  her  glor)',  | 

or  to  destroy  the  beautiful  harmony  of  that  law  which  the  Deity  3 

impressed  upon  our  natures,  when  he  said,  "  It  is  not  good  for  man  I 

to  be  alone :  I  will  make  him  a  help  meet  for  him."  \ 

It  has  long  been  an  observation  of  foreigners,  which  has  generally  i 

been  conceded  as  true,  here,  that  the  higher  sciences  have  made  h 

much  less  progress  in  the  United  Stales  than  in  the  civilized  nations  j 

of  Europe ;  and  that  celebrated  writers,  and  great  poets,  artists,  &c.,  I 

are  proportionally  rare.     JMany  persons,  struck  by  these  facts,  have  i 

regarded  them  as  the  legitimate  results  of  democracy,  and  have  '| 

supposed  that  if  similar  systems  of  government  were  generally  to  | 

prevail,  "  the  human  mind  would  gradually  find  its  beacon  lights  I 

grow  dim,"  and  society  relapse  into  its  pristine  barbarism.     M.  de  | 

Tocqueville  combats  this  idea,  and  contends  that  there  is  nothing  J 

in  democracy  incompatible  with  the  loftiest  pursuits  of  science.    He  \ 

regards  the  result  in  America  as  having  risen  from  causes  purely  j 

accidental.  | 

.  In  treating  of  this  subject  he  dwells  on  the  peculiar  relation  be-  | 
twecn  the  United  Stales  and  the  old  world,  a  circumstance  which 
has  nol  been  suflicicnlly  attended  to.  We  have  generally  been 
regarded  as  a  young  people,  just  sprung,  as  it  were,  into  existence, 
and  liable  to  be  molded  into  any  form  which  the  course  of  events 
27* 


1811.]  Democracy  in  America.  423 

iii;iy  impress  upon  ns.  Notliing  can  be  more  incorrect.  Wc  are 
a  branch  loiiped  olT  from  an  old  and  liiglily  cullivatcd  nation.  Tlic 
artists,  scholars,  j)octs,  and  philosophers  of  Great  Britain  arc  all 
curs.  We  have  had  the  same  origin  with  that  )iation,  speak  the 
same  language,  and  have  perpetuated  the  same  general  opinions, 
manners,  customs,  and  pursuits.  Our  country  has,  however,  been 
iiui.<tly  filled  up  by  adventurers  in  pursuit  of  gain,  and  such  has 
been  tlie  bountiful  returns  which  it  lias  yielded  to  industry,  that  tlie 
struggle  for  wealth  has  hitherto  been  so  much  the  leading  idea 
of  American  society,  that  all  oilier  pursuits  have  obtained  but  a 
secondary  place.  "  I  cannot,"  says  M.  de  Tocqueville,  "  consent 
to  separate  America  from  Europe,  in  spite  of  the  ocean  that  inter- 
venes. I  consider  the  people  of  the  United  States  as  lliat  portion 
of  tlic  English  people  wdiich  is  commissioned  to  explore  the  wilds 
of  the  new  world ;  while  tlie  rest  of  the  nation,  enjoying  more 
leisure,  and  less  harassed  by  the  drudgery  of  life,  may  devote 
its  energies  to  thought,  arid  enlarge,  in  all  directions,  the  empire 
of  the  mind." 

This  view  of  tlic  case  will  gencrall)'  be  acknowledged  as  correct. 
Tlic  Americans,  with  the  storc-iiouse  of  English  arts  and  letters 
open  to  tliem,  could  not  fail  to  be  a  cultivated  people,  although  tliey 
Jiave  not  distinguished  themselves  in  literatiure  or  the  fine  aits.  But 
whoever  has  watched  the  progress  of  society  here,  will  have  disco- 
vered that  as  capital  accumulates,  and  the  pm-suits  of  men  admit 
of  greater  leisure,  the  taste  for  the  fine  arts  has  gradually  imj)rovcd, 
and  men  who  make  literature  and  science  the  business  of  their 
lives  arc  becoming  less  and  less  rare.  Within  the  last  few  years 
Anlhon,  Wayland,  Upham,  Stuart,  Da)s  Bancroft,  Sparks,  Prescott, 
and  otlicrs,  iiave  given  to  the  world  works  of  that  standard  and 
sterling  ciiaracler  which  will  go  far  to  prove  that  the  temper  of 
democracy  is  not  unfriendly  to  the  cultivation  of  letters.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  true  that  in  America,  and  probably,  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent,  in  all  democratic  countries,  the  people  arc  naturally  dis- 
posed to  practical  rather  than  theoretical  science.  The  general 
equality  of  conditions,  and  the  ease  with  which  men  rise  from  one 
p'»:ition  in  society  to  another,  prove  a  constant  stimulant  to  exertion 
aiiii  enterprise.  The  people  are  therefore  restless,  ambitious,  and 
constantly  seeking  some  shorter  road  to  wealth  and  fame.  Every 
inacliine  which  spares  labor,  evciy  instrument  which  diminishes 


424  Dcinoaacy  in  America.  tJ"ly> 

llie  cost  of  production,  every  invention  wliich  promises  in  any  way 
to  be  useful,  and  every  discovery  that  promotes  the  well  being  of 
man,  possesses  a  peculiar  value.  Hence  all  the  powers  of  the  mind 
arc  brought  to  bear  on  practical  results.  "  These  very  Americans," 
sa3's  do  Tocqucville,  "  wlio  have  not  discovered  one  of  the  general  \ 

laws  of  mechanics,  have  introduced  into  navigation  an  engine  which  | 

changes  the  aspect  of  the  world."  5 

It  is  also  this  everlasting  struggle  for  something  higher  and  bet-  | 

ler,  resulting  from  a  feeling  that  actuates  every  bosom,  but  which  I 

in  America  is  brought  out  into  the  foreground  by  the  freedom  of  | 

our  condition,  which  produces  that  perpetual  disquiet — that  inordi-  J 

nate  love  of  excitement — that  peculiar  "unrest'"  which  has  so  fro-  | 

quently  attracted  the  notice  of  foreigners.     "  A  native  of  the  United  ? 

States,"  says  the  French  tourist,  "  clings  to  this  world's  goods  as  i 

if  he  were  certain  never  to  die  ;  and  he  is  so  hasty  at  grasping  at  | 

all  williin  his  reach,  that  one  would   suppose  he  was  constantly  3 

afraid  of  nut  living  long  enough  to  eiijoy  them.     He  clutches  every  i 

thing,  he  holds  nothing  fast,  but  soon  loosens  his  grasp  to  pirrsue  | 

fresh  gratifications.     A  man  builds  a  liouse  to  spend  Isis  latter  years  | 

in,  and  sells  it  before  the  roof  is  on  :  he  plants  a  garden,  and  lets  it  ? 

just  as  the  trees  are  coming  into  bearing  :  he  brings  a  field  into  | 

tillage,  and  leaves  other  men  to  gather  the  crops  :  he  embraces  a  3 

profession,  and  gives  it  up :  he  settles  in  a  place  which  he  soon  after  ] 

leaves  to  carr)-  his  cliangeablc  longings  elsewhere.     If  his  private  1 

affairs  leave  liim  any  leisure,  he  instantly  plunges  into  the  vortex  ^ 

of  politics  :  and  if  at  the  end  of  a  year  of  unremitting  labor  he  finds  | 

he  has  a  few  days'  vacation,  his  eager  curiosity  whirls  him  over  | 

the  vast  extent  of  the  United  States,  and  he  will  travel  fifteen  hun-  | 

drcd  miles  in  a  few  days  to  shake  off  his  happiness.     Death  at  I 

length  overtakes  him,  but  it  is  before  he  is  weary  of  his  bootless 
chase  of  that  complete  felicity  which  is  ever  on  the  wing." 

M.  de  Toccjucville  justly  observes,  that  this  spectacle  is  not  in 
itself  a  novelty,  but  that  the  novelty  consists  in  the  fact  of  a  whole 
nation  bring  actuated  by  the  same  unconquerable  restlessness  at 
the  same  time,  which  doubtless  results  from  the  great  freedom  of 
our  condition,  and  the  part  which  every  man  takes  in  public  affairs. 
Here  every  thing  must  necessarily  lie  in  motion.  Public  opinion 
is  the  basis  of  all  public  action,  and  to  direct  it  ever)'  effort  is  put 
into  requisition.     Eloquence,  argument,  association,  the  pulpit,  the 


1841.]  Democracy  in  x\mcrica.--  425 

press,  all  do  their  pari.  The  Dutch  smoke  over  every  thing,  the 
Americans  talk  over  every  tiling.  Here  the  people  arc  met  to  decide 
on  the  huilding  of  a  church  ;  there  they  are  canvassing  for  the  next 
election ;  a  little  further  on  they  are  discussing  some  public  im- 
provement ;  and  in  another  direction  they  are  passing  censures  on 
the  government.  Schools,  colleges,  roads,  canals,  morals,  and 
almost  every  thing  else  are  patronized  liere  by  the  public,  as  they 
are  abroad  by  the  nobility.  This  feature  alone  gives  an  air  of  bus- 
tle to  the  country,  which,  however,  is  greatly  increased  by  the  rich 
reward  which  is  sure  to  follow  energy  and  enterprise. 

The  disposition  to  associate  for  the  accomplishment  of  any  gi-cat 
object,  though  not  peculiar  to  America,  is,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
carried  to  a  much  greater  extent  here  than  in  Europe,  and  for  rea- 
sons similar  to  those  which  have  been  assigned  above.  '^I'liis  cir- 
cumstance could  not  fail  to  attract  the  attention  of  so  acute  an 
observer  as  de  Tocqueville.  "  The  most  democratic  country  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,"  he  observes,  "  is  that  in  which  men  have,  in 
our  time,  carried  to  the  highest  perfection  the  art  of  pursuing,  in 
common,  the  object  of  their  common  desires,  and  have  applied  this 
new  science  to  the  gi-catest  number  of  purposes.  Is  this  the  result 
of  accident  ?  or  is  there  in  reality  any  necessary  connection  between 
the  principle  of  association  and  that  of  equality  ?" 

The  conclusion  to  which  he  arrives  is,  that  it  is  a  natural  result 
of  democratic  society.  Here  individuals,  being  less  powerful  than  in 
aristocratic  countries,  find  it  more  necessary  to  combine  their 
strength  :  and  hence  the  accomplishment  of  those  gigantic  works 
which  are  everywhere  going  on  around  us,  and  which  without  such 
combination  could  never  be  efrccted.  "Wherever,"  he  says,  "at 
the  iicad  of  some  new  undertaking,  you  see  the  government,  in 
France,  or  a  man  of  rank,  in  England,  in  the  United  States  you 
are  sure  to  find  an  association."  The  associations  for  moral  and 
intellectual  cultivation  seem  particularly  to  have  attracted  his  atten- 
tion, and  he  speaks  frequently  of  their  importance  and  influence. 
"The  first  time,"  says  he,  "I  heard  in  the  United  States  that  a 
huiulrcd  thousand  men  had  bound  themselves  publicly  to  abstain 
from  spirituous  liquors,  it  appeared  to  mc  more  like  a  joke  than  a 
serious  engagement;  and  I  did  not  at  once  perceive  why  these 
temperate  citizens  could  not  content  themselves  with  drinking  water 
by  ihcir  own  firesides.    I  at  last  imderstood  that  these  hundred  thou- 


426  Dcmonacy  in  America.  [Jul}', 

sand  Americans,  alarmed  by  the  progress  of  drunkenness  around 
ihem,  had  made-up  their  minds  lo  patronize  temperance.  They 
acted  just  in  tlic  same  way  as  a  man  of  high  rank  who  should  dress 
very  jilainly  in  order  to  inspire  the  humbler  orders  with  a  contempt 
for  luxur}-." 

The  great  propensity  for  speech-making  in  our  representative 
assemblies  is  very  ajijiroprialely  noticed  by  JI.  de  Tocqueville,  and 
the  causes  wliicii  produce  it  pointed  out.  "  In  America,"  he  says, 
"  it  generally  liappcns  that  a  representative  becomes  somebody 
from  his  position  in  the  assembly.  He  is  therefore  perpetually 
haunted  by  a  craving  to  acquLie  importance  there,  and  he  feels  a 
petulant  desire  to  be  constantly  olHrading  his  opinions  on  the 
bouse.  ITis  own  vanity  is  not  the  only  stimulant  which  urges  him 
on  in  tiiis  cour.sc,  but  that  of  his  constituents,  and  the  continual 
necessity  of  propitiating  them." 

This  idea  is  followed  through  several  pages,  and  the  author  un- 
dertakes to  show,  what  is  probably  clear  enough  to  the  reader,  that 
the  more  intimate  and  immediate  the  dependence  between  the  repre- 
sentative and  his  constituents,  the  more  will  this  disposition  be 
encouraged.  In  all  democratic  countries  eloquence  must  neces- 
sarily be  one  of  the  great  levers  by  which  society  is  moved,  as  it  is 
more  a]il  to  iiisjiire  admiration  among  the  masses  than  any  other 
quality,  unless  it  may  be  personal  courage.  Public  speaking  is, 
therefore,  the  shortest  road  to  fame,  and  it  is  consequently  crowded 
with  votaries.  But  as  the  spirit  of  our  institutions  causes  a  con- 
stant change  in  our  representative  bodies,  it  follows  that  a  multitude 
of  persons  must  always  fuid  their  way  to  our  legislative  halls  who, 
while  they  have  the  disposition  to  distinguish  themselves  by  a 
speech,  arc  little  skilled  in  the  graces  of  oratory.  It  is  some  con- 
solation, however,  to  know  that  what  v.e  thus  lose  in  dignity,  we 
gain  in  h.oncst  intentions  and  purity  of  purpose.  A  frequent  change 
of  representation  is  a  strong  safeguard  against  corruption. 

We  had  purposed  to  devote  a  portion  of  this  article  to  an  examina- 
tion of  those  parts  of  I\I.  de  Tocqueville's  work  which  we  hold  to 
be  erroneous  :  liis  doctrine  of  the  tyranny  of  majorities — his  views 
of  the  instability  of  our  laws — his  chapter  on  the  aversion  of  demo- 
^cracics  to  revolutions — the  legal  profession,  and  other  things  which 
have  occurred  to  us  in  the  course  of  our  reading.  Sonic  of  these 
topics  are  mainly  discussed  in  the  first  part  of  Democracy  in  Amc- 


)  841.1  Democracy  in  America.  427 

rica,  but  as  they  arc  reiterated  in  the  voUime  before  us,  ihey  very 
properly  come  within  the  scope  of  this  article.  But  we  have  already 
occupied  so  much  space  as  to  prevent  the  fulfilment  of  this  design, 
aiid  we  shall  only  advert  in  brief  terms  to  that  strange  position 
assumed  by  the  French  tourist,  that  democracies  arc  averse  to 
revolutions,  because  the  mass  of  the  people  hold  property,  and  all 
revolutions  threaten  the  tenure  of  property.  We  are  the  more  sur- 
jivised  at  this  position  because  do  Tocqueville,  in  the  main,  seems 
to  understand  us,  and  for  the  further  reason,  that  the  real  cause 
why  great  revolutions  so  seldom  take  place  in  democratic  govern- 
ments is  so  very  apparent. 

Since  the  final  separation  of  this  country  from  Great  Britain,  a 
period  of  some  sixtj'-five  years,  we  have  never  had  what  in  Europe 
would  be  regarded  as  a  revolution.  It  is  true  that  we  have,  during 
that  time,  changed  our  form  of  government,  but  this  has  never  been  j 

regarded  cither  in  Europe  or  America  as  a  ?-evohUion,  and  produced  i 

not  half  the  commotion  which  has  sometimes  been  exhibited  in  the  i 

election  of  a  president.     If  we  turn  to  France,  the  country  in  | 

which  de  Tocqueville  resides,  during  the  same  lime,  we  shall  find  | 

quite  a  difTerent  state  of  things.     When  Mr.  Jefferson  wrote  the  j 

immortal  Declaration  of  Independence,  Louis  X\  I.  had  just 
ascended  the  throne  of  France.  Scarcely  had  the  independence 
of  America  been  acknowledged  by  the  different  powers  of  Europe, 
wiicn  we  behold  the  monarch  deposed,  tried,  condemned,  and  be- 
headed. A  succession  of  great  revolutions  followed  each  other 
with  astonishing  rapidity.  The  different  constitutions  of  the 
national  assembly,  the  convention,  the  directoiy — the  usm-palions 
of  Napoleon,  the  consulate  for  ten  years,  the  consulate  for  life,  the 
empire — then  the  restoration — then  again  another  mighty  revolu- 
tion caused  by  the  appearance  of  Napoleon  from  Elba — the  hun- 
dred days — the  second  restoration — then,  after  a  longer  period  of 
fiuiet,  the  three  days — and,  finally,  the  accession  of  Louis  Pliilippc. 
But  this  fearful  catalogue  of  revolutions  bears  no  proportion  to  the 
unsuccessful  allempts  at  violent  changes  which  have  interrupted 
the  short  intervals  of  tranquility  between  the  chief  acts  of  the 
drama.  For  the  last  few  years  there  has  scarcely  been  an  arrival 
from  the  "land  of  corn  and  wine,"  without  bringing  us  some 
account  of  infernal  machines  or  trials  for  high  treason. 

Such  a  contrast  could  scarcely  have  escaped  the  observations 


428  Democracy  in  America.  fJuIy, 

of  De  Tocqucvillc,  and  yet,  witli  all  lus  sagacity,  he  can  discover  no 
other  reason  for  the  greater  permanency  of  things  in  America,  than 
that  the  mass  of  the  people  hold  property,  and,  therefore,  dread  a 
change.  This  is  the  more  singular,  because  our  only  rcvolulion, 
that  which  separated  us  from  Great  Britain,  originated  among  the 
property  holders  and  was  sustained  by  them,  and  our  wars  have, 
also,  always  been  chiefly  sustained  by  the  same  class.  Has  it 
never  occurred  to  the  French  tourist,  that  in  democracies,  where 
all  power  is  vested  in  the  people,  and  tiiey  are  at  libert}'-  to  change 
their  government  just  as  often  as  they  please,  no  violent  revolutions 
can  ever  take  place  ?    Violent  revolutions  and  bloody  civil  wars  t 

occur  in  the  kingdoms  of  Europe,  because  one  power  in  the  state  | 

is  airayod  against  another;  the  king  against  the  people,  or  the  1 

people  against  llie  king  :  but  in  pure  democracies  there  can  be  only  | 

a  single  power  in  the  state,  viz.,  the  poiuer  of  the  people.     When  | 

Ciiarles  the  First,  of  England,  and  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  of  France,  i 

came  to  the  block,  it  was  because  they  set  up  the  power  of  the  ;i 

throne  in  ojiposition  to  the  will  of  the  subject :  and  the  revolutions  | 

of  France,  in  the  lime  of  Napoleon,  were  produced  by  the  army,  a  s 

power  altogether  distinct  from  that  of  the  people.  3 

Thcfo  elements  of  revolution  cannot  exist  in  a  democracy.  All 
power  is  diiTuscd  through  the  ranks  of  the  people,  who  put  in,  and 
thrust  out,  and  change  at  their  pleasure.  So  long  as  this  democratic 
princi])le  prevails — so  long  as  the  mass  of  the  people  have  every 
thing  accordiiig  to  their  own  wishes — there  is  no  motive  for  violent 
revolutions,  and  the  government  jogs  on,  apparently  without  change, 
■while,  in  fact,  it  is  undergoing  constant  and  essential  changes  all 
the  time.  The  ascendency  of  the  Jefferson  party  in  1801  was, 
doubtless,  the  greatest  revolution  which  this  country  has  ever 
experienced  since  its  independence,  and  yet  we  glided  into  it  with 
less  physical  disturbance  than  frequently  attends  the  review  of  a 
troop  in.  the  old  world. 

Such,  then,  is  the  simple  reading  of  this  proverb,  so  difficult  to 
be  understood  by  iliose  who  have  been  nurtured  in  the  school  of 
aristocracy.  It  nnisl  be  acknowledged,  however,  that  even  ice  are 
not  entirely  free  from  the  danger  of  revolutions,  although  such 
danger  results  from  causes  altogether  different  from  those  which 
produce  the  same  ctlbcts  in  Europe.  The  two  most  prominent 
that  occur  to  us  arc,  the  clashing  interests  of  individual  states  and 


]S11.]  Democracy  in  America.  429 

sfclions  of  the  Union,  and  iho  question  of  domestic  slavery.  Wc 
liavc,  liowevcr,  but  little,  apprehension,  even  from  these  causes,  and 
liilherto,  public  opinion  alone,  with  a  few  trifling  exceptions,  has 
been  sufllcicnt  to  control  the  occasional  excitement  to  which  they 
have  given  rise. 

Oji  the  whole,  wc  see  no  reason  to  doubt  the  permanency  of  our 
admirable  form  of  government,  and  firmly  believe  that  the  course 
of  our  country  is  upward  and  onward,  and  that  she  will  long  con- 
tinue to  run  that  career  of  glory  which  she  has  so  brilliantly  com- 
menced. Her  free  institutions  continue  day  by  da}'  to  develop  new 
resources  of  enterprise,  to  devise  new  modes  of  improvement,  to 
seek  out  new  channels  of  enjoyment.  Since  the  adoption  of  the 
federal  constitution  we  have  continued  steadily  to  advance  in  wealth 
and  population,  and  our  country  has  thrown  out  its  arms  to  embrace 
a  nation  of  freemen  then  unborn.  From  the  margin  of  the  Atlantic, 
where  the  colonics  were  first  planted,  wc  have  spread  deep  into  the 
western  wilds,  and  great  states  have  sprung  up  in  the  very  heart  of 
tlic  wilderness.  The  number  of  the  states  has  doubled,  and  the 
population  lias  quadrupled,  but  our  form  of  government  is  more 
iirmly  fi.xed  in  the  affections  of  the  people  the  further  wc  advance, 
and  there  is  mucli  less  prospect  of  internal  disturbances  or  a  dis- 
solution of  the  Union-at  this  moment,  than  at  any  former  period. 

Ours  is  indeed  a  wonderful  country.  Vast  in  extent — vast  in 
resources — vast  in  its  mighty  rivers  and  lofty  mountains,  but  still 
more  wonderful  in  that  freedom  of  thought  and  action,  which  arises 
from  its  beautiful  system  of  government.  When  the  members  of 
our  great  national  congress  assemble  at  the  capitol  in  Washington, 
the  free  representatives  of  the  sovereigns  at  home  :  from  what  dis- 
tances do  they  come  ?  Through  what  a  variety  of  climates  ?  Along 
what  majestic  rivers  ?  But  although  they  are  gathered  from  Maine 
and  from  Florida,  and  from  Wisconsin  and  Missouri,  yet  do  they 
speak  tiic  same  language,  feci  the  same  patriotism,  the  same  love 
of  the  constitution.  Although  tliey  meet  from  such  distant  portions 
of  this  great  continent,  yet  we  venture  to  say,  tluil  not  one  out  of 
the  two  hundred  and  forly-two  representatives  and  fifly-lwo  senators 
harbors  a  thought  of  revolution  or  change,  further  than  the  mere 
administration  of  the  government  is  concerned ;  and  that  of  the 
twenty-six  independent  nations,  who  convene  in  one  united  congress, 
there  is  not  one  which  is  not  proud  of  its  attachment  to  the  Union. 


Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 


Art.  VI. — Magnolia  Christ i  Americana  :   A  Revicia  of  Cotton 
JIather's  Account  of  I  Vitchcraft  in  New-England. 

Under  tlic  general  denomination  of  witchcraft  may  be  compre- 
hended wliatcver  relates  to  divination,  astrology,  nccrotnancy,  and  I 
omination.  These  all  may  claim  a  kindred  relation,  for  the}'-  | 
evidently  iiavc  a  family  resemblance,  and  arc  manifestl}^  derived 
from  tlic  same  source,  namely,  an  inlierent  propensity  in  the  human 
mind  to  pry  into  futurity,  and  a  desire  to  achieve  that  which  is 
naturally  beyond  human  power  to  ciTect. 

There  is,  indeed,  in  the  human  heart  a  natural  fondness  for  the 
marvelous,  a  desire  to  astonish  others  with  wonderful  achievements, 
with  bold  and  daring  deeds.  Hence  the  many  stories  which  have 
been  manufactured  by  cunning  and  artful  men,  recited  by  old 
mirses  in  tiic  hearing  of  unsophisticated  children,  and  believed  by  \ 

the  credulous  of  all  classes  and  in  all  ages.     That  this  thirst  for  I 

gaining  dominion  over  the  minds  of  others,  which  seems  to  be  an  I 

inherent  principle  of  human  nature,  has  prompted  men  to  fabricate  1 

and  trumpet  forth  for  truth  those  stories  of  marvelous  adventures  | 

which  arc  calculated  to  excite  the  wonder  and  admiration   of  their  a 

auditors,  and  thereby  to  elevate  themselves  in  the  estimation  of  a  I 

credulous  multitude,  is  abundantly  verified  in  the  history  of  our 


race,  particularly  in  the  many  vicious  novels  which  have  teemed  | 

from  the  press,  and  the  easy  belief  which  is  given  to  the  many  idle  | 

stories  concerning  the  acliievemcnts  of  wizards  and  witches.  I 

We  arc  not  unaware  that  we  may  run  the  risk  of  forfeiting  the  | 

favorable  opinion  of  those  who  seem  to  think  that  a  belief  in  divine 
revelation  is  inseparably  connected  with  faith  in  the  arts  of  necro- 
mancy, wilclicrafl,  and  in  all  those  ghostly  stories  with  which  tlic 
annals  of  mankind  have  been  incumbered.  We  must  beg  of  all 
such,  liowcvcr,  to  suspend  their  judgment  until  they  have  carefully 
heard  and  weighed  what  we  have  to  say  on  this  subject.  And  lest 
ihey  should  be  shocked  in  advance  by  what  they  may  consider  a 
bold  and  unwarrantable  attack  upon  a  favorite  theory,  we  wish  to 
apprise  them  beforehand,  that  we  have  no  doubt  that  both  wizards 
and  witches  have  existed  ;  and  we  hope  to  furnish  good  and  sub- 
stantial reasons  why  the  Almighty  doomed  them  to  such  severe 
punishments  for  the  manner  in  which  they  practiced  their  wily  and 


1811.]  Colton  Mather  071  Wilclicrajt.  431 

wicked  arls ;  and  also,  lliat  tliougli  tliey  hid  tlicmselves  from  tlie 
scrutinizing  eye  of  philosophical  inquiry  for  a  season,  their  diabolical 
arts  have  been,  and  may  be  detected  and  exposed. 

Bui  wliilc  \vc  make  this  avowal,  we  are  equally  free  to  confess 
our  unbelief  in  ihc  reality  of  those  things  which  have  been  generally 
ascribed  to  a  secret  league  which  human  beings  have  held  with 
invisible  spirits,  by  which  they  have  been  enabled  to  inflict  pain 
and  miser)'  upon  their  fellow  men. 

That  witcher)',  in  some  form,  has  existed,  even  from  the  earliest 
periods,  is  not  denied.  As  before  said,  there  seems  to  be  in  the 
human  lieart  a  strong  propensity  to  believe  in  the  marvelous,  to  pry 
into  the  secrets  of  futurity,  and  to  ascertain,  by  some  means,  what- 
ever relates  to  ourselves  and  our  friends  or  enemies.  Hence  the 
various  arts  of  cunning  and  designing  men,  to  impose  upon  the 
credulous  disposition  of  an  ignorant  multitude,  by  attempting  to  lift 
the  veil  whicli  hides  futurity  from  human  view,  and  to  disclose  that 
which  God  has  wisely  hidden  in  the  secrets  of  his  own  mind.  This 
propensity  has  developed  itself  among  all  nations,  not  excepting  the 
most  learned  and  philosophical,  entwining  itself  into  all  systems  of 
religion,  whether  pagan,  Jewish,  or  Christian.  The  oracles  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  as  well  as  the  sorcerers  of  Egypt,  and  the  false 
prophets  in  the  land  of  Israel,  all  attest  the  existence  of  this  pro- 
pensity, and  show  the  necessity  of  guarding  against  its  mischievous 
influence.  The  history  of  Rome  declares  that  no  people  w^ere  more 
addicted  to  this  superstition  than  the  ancient  Romans.  On  almost 
all  great  occasions,  the  people,  and  even  the  senate,  sought  to 
ascertain  a  knowledge  of  future  events  by  the  flight  of  birds,  and  the 
entrails  of  beasts,  as  well  as  by  the  auguries  of  the  priests.  These 
omens,  as  they  were  called,  were  relied  on  by  the  wisest  men  of 
the  nation,  as  sure  indications  of  what  was  to  happen,  either  of  a 
calamitous  or  j)rosperous  character,  and  they  seldom  entered  upon 
any  great  enterprise  without  resorting  to  those  omens  as  premo- 
nitions of  the  issue  of  every  such  enterprise. 

The  responses  of  the  oracles,  generally  adapted  liy  the  cunning 
artifices  of  those  who  were  beliind  tlic  screen  to  the  prejudices  and 
wishes  of  those  who  consulted  them,  were  received  with  respectful 
deference,  and  quoted  as  a  defense  against  the  censures  conse- 
quent ui)on  a  failure  in  an  enterprise.  And  that  bribery  was  often 
resorted  to  fiu-  the  purpose  of  eliciting  such  a  response  as  suited 


432  Cotto7i  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

llic  inclination  of  the  iinjuircr,  is  known  to  all  who  arc  acquainted 
with  their  history. 

Let  us,  however,  turn  our  attention  to  the  origin  and  character 
of  tlie  several  classes  of  arts  by  which  so  many  have  been  debased 
and  deluded.  They  have  been  by  soiiie  comprehended  under  the 
general  name  of  "  occult  science,"  because  the  secret  artifices  by 
which  their  abettors  have  carried  on  their  nefarious  designs  have 
been  c;u-cfully  hidden,  as  far  as  possible,  from  Imman  view.  Under 
this  veil  the  adepts  of  the  science  have  concocted  their  plans,  pre- 
pared the  wires  by  which  their  mysterious  machinery  might  bo 
moved,  and  purposely  imposed  upon  the  senses  and  understandings 
of  their  deluded  followers. 

There  can  be,  we  think,  little  doubt,  that  these  crafts  originated 
in  that  prevailing  desire  we  liave  already  noticed  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  wonders  of  the  invisible  world,  and  to  pry  into 
the  secrets  of  futurity.  This  led  to  an  effort  to  imitate  the  prophets 
of  the  true  God.  These  were  holy  men,  to  whom  God  revealed 
his  will.  They,  therefore,  "spake  as  they  were  moved  by  the 
Holy  Ghost."  Tiicy  foretold  future  events,  and  in  the  name  of 
God  wrought  miracles,  and  denounced  liis  judgments  upon  the 
wicked,  and  promised  his  blessings  to  the  righteous.  In  conse- 
quence of  these  things  they  became  famous,  were  patronized  by 
kings  and  potentates,  and  generally  venerated  by  the  truly  pious 
as  servants  of  the  Most  High  God.  These  things  excited  the 
jealousy  and  envy  of  their  enemies.  They  were  hence  provoked 
to  an  clTort  to  innlatc  them  in  their  predictions,  and,  consequently, 
to  pretend  to  a  knowledge  of  secret  things,  and  of  future  events. 
Hence  the  "  lyir.g  oracles"  were  but  deceptive  imitators  of  the 
"  oracles  of  God,"  and  the  "  false  prophets"  hypocritical  mimics  of 
the  true  prophets,  while  the  various  omens  in  the  licavens  and  the 
earth  were  substitutes  for  those  symbols  of  the  divine  presence  by 
wliich  Go(^l  proclaimed  himself  imto  his  chosen  people. 

Tlic  messages  of  these  panderers  to  the  corrupt  desires  of  de- 
praved men  were  delivered  with  that  pomp  and  show  which  ex- 
cited popular  belief  and  applause.  To  keep  up  their  credit  among 
ihc  ignorant  multitude  they  must  have  some  semblance  of  authority 
for  what  they  said  and  did,  and  thi.'?  they  pretended  to  derive  from 
invisible  spirits.  To  elude  detection,  however,  by  inquisitive 
minds,  their  "  cvuiningly  devised  fables"  were  concocted  and  per- 


1841.]  Collon  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  433 

fcctcd  in  secret — "  in  the  secret  chambers  of  imager}'" — hence  this 
"  science,  falsely  so  called,"  has  been  properly  denominated  occult, 
being,  as  was  alleged,  beyond  the  rcacli  of  ordinary  minds,  and 
unknown  to  all  who  were  not  initiated  into  their  dark  and  diabolical 
mysteries.  Docs  not  the  apostle  allude  to  these  things,  when  he 
speaks  of  the  "  unfruitful  works  of  darkness,"  and  says,  "  It  is  a 
shame  even  to  speak  of  those  things  whicli  are  done  of  them  in 
secret  ?" 

The  magicians  of  lEgypt,  the  soothsayers  of  Chaldea,  the  astro- 
logers of  Persia,  and  the  wizards  and  witches  which  have  infested 
all  lands,  less  or  more,  all  come  under  the  same  general  class  of 
"  lying  impostors."  These  all  have,  at  times,  gained  such  dominion 
over  the  minds  of  their  bewildered  followers,  as  to  be  considered 
some  "  gi-cat  ones."  The  veneration  which  was  thus  excited  for 
them,  shows  the  extent  and  sort  of  influence  which  they  exerted. 
Nor  does  it  require  any  great  stretch  of  intellect  to  perceive  how 
these  jugglers  succeeded  in  playing  off  their  tricks  upon  an  ignorant 
populace,  who  understood  none  of  the  laws  of  nature,  and  were, 
therefore,  in  the  habit  of  considering  every  phenomenon  as  the 
production  of  supernatural  influence. 

But  that  we  may  have  a  more  distinct  view  of  this  curious  sub- 
ject, let  us  classify  the  several  sorts  of  deceptions  by  which  those 
who  inveigled  the  people  were  nominally  distinguished. 

1.  Those  who  prognosticated  future  events  by  omejis — hence 
their  art  is  called  omination.  None  were  more  addicted  to  thia 
superstitious  practice  than  the  ancient  Romans.  On  all  important 
occasions,  as  before  said,  they  were  in  the  habit  of  consulting  the 
appearance  of  the  heavens,  the  flight  of  birds,  the  entrails  of  beasts, 
as  well  as  the  augury  of  the  priests  and  priestesses. 

The  secrecy  of  this  artful  imposture  invested  it  with  all  its  im- 
portance ;  for  had  its  real  character  been  known  to  llie  people,  it 
would  have  been  stripped  of  all  its  sacredness,  and  exposed  to  its 
merited  contempt.  So  also  the  signs  which  the  augurs  professed 
to  discover  in  the  aspect  of  the  heavens,  in  the  flight  of  birds,  or  on 
the  entrails  of  beasts,  were  understood  onlj'  by  those  who  afTected 
a  knowledge  of  the  science,  and  the  ominous  appearances  were 
aniiuunccd  to  the  people  as  oracular,  the  secret  of  the  craft  being 
known  only  to  the  initiated.  It  is  on  this  account  that  tliis  branch 
of  the  art  of  deceiving  the  multitude  is  classed  among  iha' occult  or 


434  Coilon  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

hidden  sciences.      All  its  charm  consisted  in  its  dark  and  unex-  '. 

plained  mysteries,  and  the  juimp  with  which  its  ceremonies  were  ] 

conducted.  i 

2.  Those  v.'ho  foretold  future  events  hy  divining — hence  the  art  has  | 

been  called  divination.     This  comprehends  the  art  of  interpreting  \ 

dreams,  of  fortune  telling  by  various  external  signs  in  the  heavens,  i 

in  the  atmosphere,  lines  in  the  hand,  or  prominent  features  in  the  | 

counlcnauQC,  the  position  of  some  star  in  the  heavens  when  one  is  \ 

born,  and  various  otlier  means  which  the  ingenuity  of  men  has  | 

invented.    This  is  a  very  ancient  custom.    It  prevailed  all  over  the  | 

eastern  country,  infected  all  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  has  been  handed  \ 

down,  in  some  shape  or  form,  to  most,  if  indeed  not  all  of  the  Eu-  | 

ropean  nations.     It  prevails  extensively  in  England  and  Scotland  I 

to  tliis  day.     The  divining  rod,  used  for  the  discovery  of  mines  1 

and  fountains  of  water,  is  but  a  relic  of  this  old  superstition.  I 

But  the  mo.st   common  form  of  divination  among  the  ancients  \ 

was  by  means  of  the  cup,  1o  which  reference  is  made  in  Gen.  xliv,  | 

2-12.     From  the  manner  in  which  Joseph  speaks  of  this  cup,  it  is  \ 

apparent  that  the  practice  of  divining  by  the  cup  was  recognized  \ 

as  a  very  connnon  tiling.  It  would  appear  that  the  practice  origi- 
nated among  the  Persians,  and  was  thence  diifused  among  the  ^ 
several  Asiatic  nations,  and  no  doubt  prevailed  much  among  the  | 
Egyptians,  with  whom  Joseph  then  resided  as  the  second  man  in  | 
the  kingdom.  Tiiis  cup,  it  is  said,  filled  with  the  elixir  of  immor-  ;; 
tality,  was  found  when  digging  for  the  foundation  of  Persepolis,  1 
and  is  said  to  be  of  such  a  structure  as  to  exhibit  the  universe,  and  ' 
lience  the  conceit,  that  by  its  means  those  who  understood  its  use  ? 
came  to  a  knowledge  of  all  events — past,  present,  and  to  come.                     | 

From  Acts  xvi,    15-19,  it  appears  that  this  was  not  the   only  | 

method  by  which  the  art  of  divination  was  practiced.     Here  we  '] 

have  an  accoiuil  of  a  "  certain  damsel,  possessed  of  a  spirit  of  divi-  \ 

nation,"  wlio  followed  Paul,  and  said,  "  These  ai'e  the  servants  of  \ 

the  Most  High  God,  which  show  unto  us  the  way  of  salvation."  It 
is  no  part  of  the  present  inquiry  by  what  means,  or  for  what  pur- 
poses this  testimony  was  given  to  the  character  of  Paul  and  his 
companions,  nor  in  what  sense  the  damsel  was  possessed  of  this 
spirit.  It  is  sufilcient  for  our  purpose  to  know  that  she  was  under 
diabolical  induciice,  and  that   "  her  masters,"  those  who  employed  i 

her,  were  induced  to  do  it  on  account  of  the  "  much  gain"  which  ■ 


IS II.]  Cotton  Mather  oji  Witchci-aft.  435 

flowed  into  iheir  coffers,  by  her  artful  incantations.  Hence  the 
malice  with  wiiich  they  excited  the  multitude  and  the  magistrates 
ti'Tiiinst  Paul,  after  he  had  silenced  the  artful  pythoness,  from 
whoso  deceitful  tricks  they  had  received  so  much  profit.  That 
holh  she  and  tliey  knew  that  they  imposed  upon  the  ignorant  cre- 
dulity of  the  multitude,  who  paid  them  for  her  incantations,  is 
inferable  from  the  fact,  that  they  were  justly  condemnablc  for  their 
conduct,  and  were  compelled  to  yield  up  both  their  arts  and  gains 
at  the  command  of  a  higher  power.  It  seems,  indeed,  highly  pro- 
bable, that  this  divination  partook  much  of  the  character  of  modern 
witclicraft,  and  was  equally  coiidcmnable  with  it,  for  the  gross  and 
wicked  manner  in  which  it  deluded  the  people. 

3.  AstroJogy.  This  science  was  highly  cultivated  in  ancient 
times,  and  was  much  relied  upon  by  the  Persians  and  Chaldeans, 
as  an  index  to  the  fates  of  individuals  and  communities.  Ks  its 
name  imports,  the  science  teaches  the  effects  and  influences  which 
llie  stars  have  upon  human  destinies,  and  how  to  foretell  future 
events  by  their  position  in  the  heavens,  and  the  different  aspects 
they  may  assume.  Hence  war,  pestilence,  and  famine,  as  well  as 
peace  and  prosperity,  were  predicted  by  the  astrologers,  from  the 
varied  appearances  of  the  heavenly  bodies  ;  and  the  fate  of  indi- 
viduals was  determined  by  ascertaining  under  what  particular  star 
they  were  born.  A  relic  of  this  superstition  is  still  retained  among 
us  by  an  exhibition  in  all  our  almanacs  of  the  twelve  signs  of  the 
zodiac,  pointing  to  the  different  parts  of  the  human  bod}^  as  if  the 
])erson  were  more  or  less  affected  by  the  star  of  his  destiny.  What 
a  j)ity  that  this  heathenish  practice  should  be  patronized  by  Chris- 
tians, as  though  they  believed  themselves  and  tlicir  offspring  were 
under  the  influence  of  tlic  stars,  instead  of  being  governed  by  those 
laws,  as  free  agents,  which  emanate  from  elcmal  wisdom,  tnith,  and 
goodness  !  It  shows  the  strong  hold  which  heathen  superstition, 
because  sanctioned  by  antiquity,  has  upon  the  human  mind,  and 
the  necessity  of  its  being  eradicated  by  the  power  of  Cluristian 
truth. 

These  astrologers  were  the  harbingers  of  good  or  evil  to  the  peo- 
ple, and  from  the  confidence  reposed  in  their  prognostications,  could 
inflict  misery  or  convey  pleasure  to  their  minds,  almost  at  will. 
Hence  they  were  called  wise  men;  and  tlie  eastern  viagi,  whence 
wc  have  the  word  magician,  were  star-gazers,  or  astrologers,  be- 


436  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

cause  lliey  professed  to  foretell  future  events  from  the  position  and 
aspects  of  the  starry  heavens.  As  it  is  probable  that  these  rnagi 
originated  in  Persia,  where  fire  was  worshiped  either  as  a  god  or 
as  a  symbol  of  the  Deity,  the  very  name  by  which  they  were  distin- 
guished is  cxjilaiiicd  by  a  Persian  author  as  signifying  a  wor- 
shiper of  fire.  These  were  the  wise  men  of  the  cast,  who,  being 
directed  by  an  uncommon  star,  or  meteor  in  the  heavens,  came  to 
pay  their  homage  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  these  magi  having  associated 
much  with  the  Jews,  and  no  doubt  familiarized  themselves  witli 
the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  might  have  been  led  to  the  inference  that 
this  lumhious  appearance  in  the  heavens  was  a  fulfilment  of  the 
prophecy  of  Balaam.  Num.  xxiv,  17.  Being  passionately  fond  of 
contemplating  the  .starry  heavens,  and  considering  them  as  a  brilliant 
symbol  and  splendid  residence  of  the  Deity,  they  were  wont  to  infer 
that  some  c.xlraordinarj'  event  was  indicated  by  any  uncommon 
apjicarance  and  movement  in  the  visible  heavens. 

But  that  all  predictions  of  astrologers  respecting  future  events, 
and  the  destinies  of  individuals,  were  merel}'-  conjectural,  and, 
therefore,  impositions  on  the  people,  is  manifest  from  the  numerous 
instances  in  which  they  were  confounded  when  called  upon  to 
interpret  dreams,  and  to  decipher  other  omens  which  appeared  hi 
the  heavens  and  the  earth.  Tiius  w'hen  the  magicians,  and  all  the 
wise  men  of  Eg}'|)t,  were  called  upon  to  show  the  interpretation  of 
Pharaoh's  dream,  they  were  utterly  confounded,  and  stood  rebuked 
for  their  folly  in  the  presence  of  both  the  royal  dreamer  and  his 
humble  and  persecuted  interpreter.  Had  there  been  any  infallibihty 
in  the  science  of  these  astrologers,  they  had  not  suffered  themselves 
to  be  put  to  confusion  on  an  occasion  so  important  as  this — an 
occasion  which,  could  they  have  relied  upon  their  art,  would  have 
established  their  reputation  for  ever. 

The  same  occurrence  took  place  in  the  days  of  Daniel,  as  is 
related  in  the  second  chapter  of  his  book.     The  dream  of  Nebu-  l 

chadnezzar  was  a  perfect  enigma  to  those  astrologers,  sorcerers,  | 

and  magicians,  notwithstanding  all  their  pretensions  to  a  knowledge  | 

of  the  secrets  of  nature,  or  the  ominous  appearance  of  the  heavens.  I 

"What  stronger  proof  do  we  need  of  the  perfect  nullity  of  this  pre- 
tended science  !  And  hence  the  deception  practiced  upon  the 
people  must  have  been  known  to  those  who  were  under  its  influ-  ' 

ence.    Nor  could  they  escape  from  a  detection  of  their  artful  im- 


IS  11.]  Cotton  Mather  on  Wiichcraft. 


post 


on  ihc  two  important  and  notorious  occasions   to  which 


reference  has  been  made.  In  tlie  case  of  Ncbucliadnczzar  espe- 
cially, liis  conversion  to  an  acknowledgment  of  the  true  God  fol- 
lowed the  interpretation  of  his  dream  by  Daniel,  and  the  ccn- 
firnuition  of  its  triitli,  by  the  coming  to  pass  of  the  events  which 
lie  had  predicted.  Daniel  and  his  God  were  exalted,  while  the 
aslroloijers  and  their  science  fell  into  contempt. 

4.  Necromancy  and  loitcJicraft  may  very  well  be  clas.scd  together, 
as  tlicy  involve  each  other,  and  imply  an  art  of  deception  which 
has  been  rnorc  generally  practiced  tlian  any  of  the  deceptive  niaclu- 
nations  we  have  already  mentioned.  Necromancy  pretends  to  reveal 
future  events  by  holding  intercourse  with  the  dead,  or  bj-  a  familiar 
commerce  with  departed  spirits.  By  means  of  the  agency  thus 
secured,  witclics,  wizards,  or  necromancers,  or  by  whatever 
name  they  may  be  distinguished,  pn'ofess  to  have  power  over  the 
living,  to  torment  them  at  pleasure,  to  frighten  them  by  raising 
ghosts  and  hobgoblins  before  their  eves,  who  ma}'  reveal  to  them 
the  secrets  of  the  invisible  world.  This  artful  imposture  appears 
to  be  of  Egyptian  origin,  from  whom  the  Israelites  learned  it,  on 
account  of  which  the  practitioners  of  this  diabolical  art  were 
denounced  in  the  severest  terms  by  the  prophets  of  God. 

But  it  has  not  been  confined  to  Egypt,  nor  to  the  land  of  Canaan ; 
it  has  spread  through  all  nations  and  ages,  not  excepting  die  most ' 
Christian  and  civilized  comitries.  Our  ancestors  appear  to  have 
been  infected  with  this  vile  imposture  as  fully  as  were  the  ancient 
Israelites  themselves,  and  its  belief  has  been  productive  of  untold 
mischief.  Indeed,  such  was  the  prevalent  opinion  respecting  the 
reality  of  this  art,  tlial  many  an  innocent  person  has  sufl'ered  even 
the  penally  of  death  for  his  supposed  league  with  the  devil,  and 
for  carrying  en  a  commerce  with  invisible  spirits — for  evoking  their 
aid  in  inflicting  bodily  and  mental  sufiering  upon  their  fellow 
mortals.  It  is  therefore  well  worthy  of  inquiry,  whether  there  be 
in  reality  any  just  ground  to  believe  that  such  intercourse  has  been 
and  is  now  lield  with  the  manes  of  the  dead,  as  this  theory  seems 
to  imply. 

That  such  beings  existed,  and  that  thoy  practiced  their  diabolical 
arts  for  the  deception  of  mankind,  cannot  be  denied.  Undcrstand- 
nig  the  laws  of  nature,  they  were  able,  by  chimical  analysis  and. 
combinations,  to  produce  such  phenomena  before  the  eyes  of  iho 

Vol.  1.-28 


43S  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  fJuly, 

uninformed  multiludc  as  to  invuigle  their  senses,  and  make  ihcm 
believe  that  they  were,  hkc  Simon  Magus,  the  noted  sorcerer, 
some  "  wonderfid  persons,"  to  whom  the  power  of  controlling  th.e 
elements  of  nature  liad  been  given,  by  a  league  with  invisible 
spirits.  Tiicy  were  not  unlike  the  rope-dancers,  fire-eaters,  ven- 
triloquists, and  other  cunning  craftsmen,  of  modern  days ;  and  if 
the  people  generally  were  as  ignorant  now  as  then,  these  men 
might  as  easily  pass  themselves  off  for  some  wise  ones,  who  are 
assisted  by  invisible  spirits,  as  did  the  necromancers  of  ancient 
limes.  Nay,  those  chimists  wlio  have  learned  the  art  of  separat- 
ing and  combining  the  elements  of  natnrc,  so  as  to  produce  those 
phenomena  at  which  some  gaze  with  so  much  astonishment,  were 
ihcy  surronnded  with  an  ignorant  multitude,  who  knew  nothing  of 
their  arts  or  the  means  by  which  tliey  produced  such  effects,  would 
be  considered  as  wizards,  or  as  persons  aided  by  infernal  spirits. 
How  easily  could  a  skilful  ventriloquist  impose  upon  the  uninformed 
mass,  by  making  them  believe  that  he  carried  on  a  conversation 
with  invisible  spirits,  that  he  could  evoke  them  at  pleasure,  and 
make  them  serve  his  purposes  whenever  he  chose  to  command 
them  !  Tliese  arc  the  wizards  of  modern  days.  But  happily  for 
the  j)cn])lc,  there  is  now  too  much  light  upon  these  subjects  to 
permit  ihcm  to  assume,  even  if  they  would,  any  other  character 
than  ih.-it  which  belongs  to  them.  Impostors  they  arc  not,  because 
they  pretend  to  nothing  more  than  they  are,  and  every  body  knows 
by  wliat  means  they  perform  their  miraculous  feats. 

Thnl  there  have  hcen  wonderful  effects  produced  by  what  is 
called  t-lcighl  of  hand,  we  are  not  disposed  to  question.  But  that 
they  were  produced  by  supernatural  agencies  or  ghostly  influence, 
we  do  not  believe.  However  ine.vplicable  they  may  have  been,  or 
may  be,  we  must  have  more  evidence  than  any  we  have  yet  seen, 
before  wc  can  credit  the  man^elous  adventures  with  which  the  page 
of  history  has  been  burdened,  or  which  may  have  been  handed 
down  in  oral  tales  from  father  to  son,  from  nurse  to  child,  respect- 
ing the  influence  which  ghosts  and  hobgoblins,  witches  and  wizards, 
have  had  over  the  actions  and  destinies  of  others.  Tiie  credulity 
of  the  age  in  which  these  things  arc  said  to  have  occuiTcd,  may 
account  for  the  facility  v.-itli  which  thoy  were  believed.  Such  was 
the  general  bias  of  the  ])ul)lic  mind  in  favor  of  these  hobgoblin 
stories,  that  every  unusual  ujjpcarance  in  a  neighborhood  was  ini- 
28* 


1S31.]  Collon  Matlirr  on  Wilchcraft.  439 

nu'dialoly,  and  without  any  thorough  and  impartial  investigation, 
ascribed  to  llie  power  of  witchcraft,  and  the  person  suspected  of 
the  criminal  commerce  with  an  infernal  spirit,  was,  by  common 
consent,  doomed  to  sufler  tlic  jienalty  of  his  or  her  oflciiccs. 

Without  going  liack  to  oklcn  limes  to  verify  the  truth  of  these 
remarks,  we  will  quote  a  few  of  the  stories  recorded  by  the  Rev. 
Cotton  Milliter,  in  liis  "  JIagnalia  Christi  Americana." 

It  is  well  known  that  Dr.  jMather  was  an  eminent  Congregational 
minister  settled  in  North  Boston,  at  an  early  period  of  our  colonial 
history,  and  that  he  was  famous  for  his  industry  in  collecting  and 
recording  facts  which  accompanied  the  early  settlement  of  the 
country.  Among  other  interesting  matters  which  he  records,  he 
very  minutely  describes  a  number  of  instances  of  witchcraft  that 
look  place  in  Boston,  Salem,  and  other  towns,  greatly  to  ilie  an- 
noyance of  the  inhabitants,  and  the  disgrace  of  those  more  imme- 
diately implicated  in  tliose  nefarious  transactions.  In  chapter  vii, 
of  his  second  volume,  he  adduces  no  less  than /ow?-/cc«  examples, 
all  of  which  are  recorded  with  all  the  gravity  and  particularity  of  a 
Jiistorian  who  fully  believes  what  he  writes,  and  yet  with  a  riiinute- 
iicss  of  detail  and  flourish  of  arg\mients  in  tlieir  favor  which  indi-  i 

ca'.e  a  conviction  that  their  natural  incredibility  would  occasion  I 

much  hesitancy  in  the  reader  respecting  their  reality.     They  are  1 

too  long  to  recite  in  full.     The  subjects  of  the  painful  visitations  I 

were  suddenly  seized  with  fls — uttered  strange  and  unintelligible  | 

language — sometimes    lai/gju'ng,    then    crying — at   other   times  j 

skipping    about   the   liousc,    "  yelling   and   howling,    and   looldng  i 

hideously." 

One  is  represented  as  uttering  "words  from  her  throat,  sometimes 
when  her  mouth  was  wholly  shut,  and  sometimes  when  lier  mouth 
was  wide  open ;  but  no  organs  of  speech  were  used  therein."  These 
Mords  consisted  chiefly  in  "horrid  railings  against  the  godly  minis- 
ters of  the  town  ;  but  sometimes  he"  (the  supposed  demon,  of  which 
she  was  said  to  be  possessed,  and  who  spoke  through  her  in  tliis 
••^trange  way)  "likewise  belched  out  most  ncfandous  blasphemies 
against  the  God  of  heaven." 

At  another  time,  in  a  house  which  was  said  to  be  haunted  : 
■'  Bncks,  .sticks,  and  stones,  by  some  invisible  hand,  were  thrown 
at  the  iiousc  ;"  a  "  long  staff  would  dance  up  and  down  in  llie 
chimney" — "boxes,    boards,    shoes,"    and   various   other  articles. 


440  Cotlo?i  Mallicr  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

^volild  he  llirown  about  tlie  house,  to  the  no  small  disturbance  of  the 
family,  and  the  amazement  of  all  who  beheld  tlicse  pranks  played 
off  by  this  invisible  hand,  this  malicious  foe  to  human  happiness. 

Some  would  complain  that   ihcy  were   struck  by  an  invisible  | 

hand,  that  jjins    perforated   their  flesh,   wliile    their  bodies   were  | 

■writhed  and  twisted  into  horrible  contortions.     The  children  that  | 

were  afflicted  would  cry  out  with  anguish,  and  when  at  length  they  | 

■were,  able  "  to  discern  the  shaj^es  of  the  spectres"  from  whom  they  I 

received  the  strokes  with  which  they  were  bruised,  "  a  blow  at  the  | 

place  where  ihcy  saw  the  spectres  was  always  felt  by  the  boy  | 

himself,  in  that  part  of  liis  bod}'  that  answered  what  might  be  \ 

stricken  at."'     "  Tiie  calamities  of  these  children  went  on  till  they  I 

barked  at  one  another  like  dogs,  and  then  ■purred  Wka  so  many  | 

cats.     They  would  complain  that  they  were  in  a  red  hot  oven,  and  % 

sweat  and  ])ant  as  much  as  if  they  had  been  really  so.     Anon  they  | 

would  say  that  cold   water  was  thrown   on  them,  at  which  tliey  | 

would  siiivcr  very  much."     These,  and  the  like  complaints  of  the  | 

bewitched  cluldrcn,   filled  the   spectators   with  wonderment,  and  | 

excited  the  sympathy  of  the  wdiole  community  in  their  behalf,  and  | 

finally  led  to  the  condign  punishment  of  some  of  the  perpetrators  \ 

cf  the  mischiefs  and  miseries.     I'or  those  who  became  suspected,  | 

by  the  wily  accusations    of  such  as   were  the  subjects  of  these  | 

strange  exorcises,  as  the  guilty  authors  of  tliese  calamities,  were 
arrested  by  tlie  magistrates,  before  whom  many  confessions  were 
extorted,  confirmatory  of  the  accusations  brought  against  them,  and 
finally  condemned  and  executed.  Among  others  was  "  Goody  F., 
who  said  that  she,  with  two  others,  one  of  whom  acknowledged  the 
same,  rode  from  Andover  to  the  same  village  witch  meeting,  upon 
a  slick  above  tlic  ground,  and  that  in  the  way  the  stick  broke,  and 
gave  the  said  F.  a  fall,  ii'Jterehy,  said  she,  I  got  a  fall  of  which  I 
am  still  sore" 

Various  methods  were  used  to  exorcise  the  demons,  as  well  as 
to  detect  the  cunning  and  malicious  authors  of  all  this  misen,'. 
After  giving  an  account  of  one  of  these  afflicted  persons,  about 
whose  innocent  neck  "  an  unseen  rope,  with  a  cruel  noose,  was 
put,  whereby  she  was  shocked  until  she  was  black  in  the  face,"  the 
author  gives  the  following  curious  facts  respecting  the  trials  whicli 
were  made  to  allay  the  phrcnsy  under  which  she  labored : — 

"  A  Quaker  book"  (the  Quakers  were  licld  in  utter  abhorrence 


]S11.]  Colton  MatJicr  on  Witchcraft.  441 

by  llie  pilgrim  fatliers,  as  they  disturbed  their  equanimity  nearly 
as  much  as  the  reputed  witches  themselves)  "  beting  brought  lier, 
she  would  quietly  read  wliole  pages  of  it ;  only  the  name  of  God 
and  Christ  she  still  skipped  over,  being  unable  to  pronounce  it, 
except  sometimes,  stammering  a  minute  or  two,  or  more  upon  it ; 
and  when  we  urged  her  to  tell  what  the  word  was  that  she  missed, 
she  would  say,  I  must  not  speak  il :  they  say  I  must  not.  You 
know  what  it  is :  'tis  G,  and  0,  and  D.  But  a  book  against 
Quakerism — they"  (meaning  the  witches,  under  whose  influence 
she  was  supposed  to  act  and  speak)  "  would  not  allow  her  to 
meddle  with,"  (being,  as  was  pretended,  too  holy  to  permit  such 
profane  eyes  to  look  upon.)  "  Such  books  as  might  have  been 
profitable  and  edifying  for  lier  to  read,  and  especially  lier  cate- 
chisms, if  slic  did  but  offer  to  read  a  line  in  them,  she  would  be 
cast  into  hideous  convulsions,  and  be  tossed  about  the  house  like  a 
foot  ball :  but  books  of  jests  being  shown  her,  she  coiitd  read  them 
well  enough,  and  have  cunning  descants  upon  thorn.  I'opish  books 
//tcy"  (that  is,  her  tormentors)  "would  not  hinder  her  from  reading; 
but  (they)  would  from  reading  books  against  popery.  A  book  that 
pretends  to  prove  that  there  arc  no  toitchcs,  was  easily  read  by  her; 
only  the  name  devils  and  witches  might  not  be  uttered.  A  book 
^vhich  proves  that  there  are  luitcJtcs,  being  exliibitcd  to  her,  she 
might  not  read  it." 

"  Divers  of  these  tricks  were  made  by  many  witnesses  :  but  I, 
cons-idering  that  there  might  be  a  snare  in  it,  put  a  seasonable  stop 
to  this  fanciful  business.  Only  I  could  not  but  be  amazed  at  one 
thing  :  a  certain  prayer  book  being  brought  her,  she  not  only  could 
read  it  very  well,  but  she  also  did  read  a  large  part  of  it  over, 
calling  it  her  Bible,  and  putting  a  more  than  ordinary  respect  upon 
it.  If  she  were  going  into  her  tortuies,  at  the  tender  of  this  book, 
she  would  recover  herself  to  read  it :  only  when  she  came  to  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  now  and  then  occurring  in  that  book,  she  would 
have  her  eyes  put  out,  so  that  she  must  turn  over  a  ncw^  leaf,  and 
then  she  would  read  again.  Whereas,  also,  there  are  scriptures  in 
that  book,  she  could  read  them  there  ;  but  if  any  showed  her  the 
very  same  scriptures  in  the  Bible  itself,  she  should  sooner  die  than 
read  them.  And  she  was  likewise  made  unable  to  read  the  Psalms 
in  an  ancient  metre,  which  this  prayer  book  had  in  the  same 
volume  with  it-" 


442  Cotton  Mather  oii  WitcJicrafl.  [July, 

After  a  minute  accoiiiit  of  the  f^jilastic  tricks  by  which  this 
same  niotiern  py)honcss  imposed  upon  tlie  credulity  of  the  people 
Avlio  beheld  her  exploits,  the  historian  adds,  with  all  the  gravity 
imaginable, — 

"  Besides  these,  there  was  another  inexplicable  thing  in  her 
condition  :  every  now  and  then  an  invisible  horse  would  be  brought 
unto  her  by  those  whom  she  early  called  {them)  and  {her  co?ripnni/," 
still  alluding  to  those  who  had  bewitched  her,  as  she  pretended,) 
"upon  tlie  approach  of  which  her  eyes  would  still  be  closed  up: 
'  for,'  said  she,  '  thrij  say  1  can  a  tell-tale ;  and,  therefore,  they 
will  not  let  me  sec  them.^  Hereupon  she  would  give  a  spring,  as 
one  mounting  a  liorse,  and  setting  herself  in  a  riding  posture,  she 
would  in  her  chair  be  agitated,  as  one  sometimes  ambling,  some- 
times trotting,  and  sometimes  galloping  ver}'  fuiiously.  In  these 
motions  we  coidd  not  perceive  that  she  was  moved  b)^  the  stress 
of  her  feet  u])on  the  ground,  for  often  she  touched  it  not.  When 
she  had  rodi-  a  minute  or  two,  she  would  seem  to  be  at  a  rendez- 
vous with  (than)  tliat  were  {her  company,)  and  then  she  would 
maintain  a  discourse  with  them,  asking  them  many  questions  con- 
cerning iiersi-lf,  [we  gave  her  none  of  ours,]  and  have  answers 
from  th.^m,  v.hich,  indeed,  none  but  herself  perceived.  Then 
would  s!ie  return  and  inform  us.  How  (they)  did  intend  to  handle 
her  fur  n  doij  or  tiuo  aftenvard,  and  some  other  things  that  she 
iiiquircd.  Her  liorse  would  sometimes  throw  her  with  much  vio- 
lence ;  osp!'fi:d!y  if  any  one  stabbed  or  cut  the  air  under  her.  But 
she  would  liii>kly  mount  again,  and  perform  her  fantastic  journeys, 
mostly  in  lier  chair ;  but  sometimes,  also,  she  would  be  carried 
from  her  chair,  out  of  one  room  into  another,  very  oddly,  in  the 
postures  of  a  riding  woman.  At  length,  she  pretended,  that  her 
linrse  could  ride  up  the  stairs  ;  and  unto  admiration  she  rode  (that 
is,  was  tossed  us  one  that  rode)  up  the  stairs.  There  then  stood 
tlic  .study  of  one  belonging  to  the  family  :  into  which  entering,  she 
stood  immediately  on  her  feet,  and  cried  out,  '  They  are  gone! 
They  are  L'oar  !  They  say  that  they  cannot — God  can't  let  'em 
come  here.'  .\dding  a  reason  for  it,  which  the  owner  of  the  study 
thought  more  hind  than  true.  And  she  presently  and  perfectly 
catne  to  herself,  so  that  her  whole  discourse  and  carriage  was 
altered  unto  the  greatest  measure  of  sobriety." 

^Yhilc  she  remained  in  this  study,  it  seems  that  her  tormentors 


IS  11.]  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  443 

had  no  power  over  lier  ;  but  no  sooner  was  slie  removed  from  it 
tlian  they  fell  upon  her  with  all  their  unrestrained  fury,  hurrying 
her  into  acts  for  which  she  was  deeply  commiserated  by  the  pious 
part  of  the  community. 

But  the  most  remarkable  instances  of  tliese  enchantments  came 
to  pass  in  the  town  of  Salem,  in  1G92.  Quite  a  number  of  persons, 
clued}'  females  and  j'outh,  were  so  affected,  that  they  were  declared, 
even  by  their  physicians,  to  be  "bewitched."  The  persons  sus- 
pected as  the  guilty  instruments  of  these  afflictions,  were,  as  usual 
in  such  cases,  arrested,  and,  on  their  examination,  confessed  that 
ihcy  had  sold  themselves  to  the  devil ;  and  then  these,  in  turn, 
accused  others  of  tormenting  them  for  their  perfidy  in  exposing  the 
craft,  as  it  was  concocted  and  carried  on  at  their  "  witch  meetings." 
So  bewildered  were  tliey  with  this  delusion  that  children  would  bear 
testimony  against  tlieir  mothers,  sisters  against  their  sisters,  and 
servants  against  tiiemselves. 

Among  those  who  were  tried  and  condemned,  nineteen  were 
executed,  all  of  whom  died  protesting  their  innocence  of  the  crime 
laid  to  their  charge.  At  length  the  magistrates,  and  the  more  sober 
and  thinking  part  of  the  community,  became  alarmed  at  these 
proceedings.  And  well  they  might — for  about  one  hundred  were 
already  accused  as  being  concerned  in  this  wicked  conspiracy 
against  the  peace  and  happiness  of  individuals  and  society,  among 
whom  were  persons  eminent  for  their  piety,  for  the  blamelessness 
of  their  lives,  and  respectability  of  their  character.  To  sacrifice 
these  persons  at  the  shrine  of  such  a  system  of  witclicraft,  so  art- 
fully contrived  and  conducted,  was  too  much,  even  m  that  credulous 
ago.  The  legal  proceedings  were  therefore  stopped,  and  the  land 
had  rest. 

Now  mark  the  consequence  of  staying  tlie  prosecutions.  The 
historian  informs  us,  that  "  when  this  prosecution  ceased,  the 
Lord  so  chained  np  Satan  that  the  afflicted  grew  presently  well : 
the  accused  are  generally  quiet ;  and  for  five  years  since,  we  have 
no  such  molestation  by  them."  On  recording  this,  the  writer,  Jlr. 
John  Hales,  makes  the  following  ingenuous  confession  : — 

"  It  sways  much  with  me,  which  I  have  since  heard  and  read, 
of  the  like  mistakes  in  other  places.  As  in  Suffolk,  in  England, 
about  the  year  1645,  was  such  a  prosecution,  until  they  saw  tliat 
unless  they  put  a  slop,  it  would  bring  all  into  blood  and  confusion. 


444  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

The  like  hath  been  in  France,  until  nine  hundred  were  put  to  death. 
And  in  some  other  places  the  like.  So  that  New-England  is  not 
the  only  place  circumvented  by  the  wiles  of  the  wicked  and  wily 
scijicnt  in  this  kind." 

It  would  seem,  tliercforc,  that  even  those  who  had  been  for  some 
time  imposed  upon  by  the  wily  arts  of  these  bewitched  women  and 
childi-en,  were  at  length  convinced  of  their  error,  and  very  wisely 
hasted  to  correct  their  mistake,  and  thereby  lo  retrieve,  as  far  as 
practicable,  the  character  of  those  who  had  been  implicated  in  these 
perplexing  aflairs.     And  though  it  was  but   a  poor  consolation  to  | 

know  that  they  were  the  deluded  imitators  of  others  who  had  been  I 

involved  in  the  like  difficulties,  yet  it  is  an  evidence  of  their  sin-  | 

eerily  that  they  at  last  yielded  to  conviction,  and  did  all  they  could  * 

to  arrest  the  progrcs.s  of  such  an  artful  imposture.  | 

Now,  though  we  do  not  pretend  to  be  able  to  account  for  all  the  I 

phenomena  wliich  accompanied  these  strange  proceedings,  yet  we  I 

must  be   permitted  to  demur  at  these  things,  and  to  assign  some  I 

reasons  for  our  dissent  from  the  theory  advocated  by  the  believers  | 

in  these  witchcraft    stories.     We  remark,  however,  by  way    of  j 

concession, —  i 

1.  That  v.'c  have  no  doubts  respecting  the  existence  of  evil  | 
spirits,  and  of  one  jn-imc  leader  of  tliem  all,  called,  by  way  of  dis-  | 
tinction,  The  Devil.  Nothing,  indeed,  is  more  plainly  and  un-  .| 
equivocally  revealed  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  than  this.                                   | 

2.  It  is  equally  plain,  that  "  he  now  worketh  in  the  children  of 
disobedience"— that  "  Satan  gocth  about,"  as  he  did  in  the  days  of 
Job,  "as  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour" — and  that 
all  his  wily  and  diabolical  arts  are  directed  against  the  happiness 
of  man,  and  more  especially  against  the  saints  of  the  Most  High 
God,  templing  ihcm,  by  every  stratagem  his  "  hellish  malice"  can 
invent,  to  commit  sin,  to  withdraw  their  allegiance  from  the  "  King 
of  kings,"  and  to  pay  their  homage  to  him. 

3.  Nor  is  it  less  certain  that  he  co-operates  with  the  corrupt 
passions  and  appetites  of  sinful  men,  who  become  inveigled  by  the 
many  motives  which  he  may  suggest  to  their  minds  to  induce  thera 
to  continue  in  a  course  of  disobedience  to  the  laws  of  God.  Hence 
they  are  said  to  be  his  servants. 

4.  And  how  far  he  may  fall  in  with  the  "  cunning  craftines.s"  of 
men,  and  assist  them  in  their  cunning  devices  to  deceive  them- 


1641.]  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  445 

selves  and  others,  we  pretend  not  to  determine.  But  if,  as  St. 
John  afErms,  "  the  whole  world  lielh  in  tiic  wicked  one" — if  sinners 
are  led  "  captive  by  the  devil  at  his  will" — there  is  nothing  in- 
credible in  the  supposition  that  those  who  give  themselves  up  to 
"  work  wickedness  with  greediness"  are  greatly  influenced  by  this 
wicked  one  in  their  evil  machinations — nor  that  they  sliould 
be  able  to  perform  those  exploits  which  may  astonish  the  be- 
holder, and  especially  him  who  is  not  deeply  versed  in  human 
nature,  and  in  the  laws  which  govern  the  moral  and  physical  world. 

5.  But  beyond  this  we  do  rot  believe  Satan  has  power  to  go. 
Man  is  a  free  agent.  Satan,  therefore,  cannot  compel  htm  to  sin 
against  God,  no  more  tlian  he  can  have  power  over  his  soul  and 
tody  through  tlie  medium  of  his  fellow  men.  In  respect  to  the 
righteous,  God  is  their  protector.  And  though  he  may,  for  wise 
purposes,  permit  this  enemy  of  all  righteousness  to  afflict  llicm 
with  cruel  temptations,  yet  he  cannot  surrender  his  control  over 
them  to  Satan,  nor  suffer  them  to  be  deluded  by  his  artful  wiles. 
Much  less  are  we  to  suppose  that  tliose  men,  wlio  profess  to  be  in 
league  with  Satan,  can  have  the  rule  and  government  of  God's 
people.  Satan  may,  indeed,  be  permitted  to  afflict  their  bodies  and 
to  harass  their  minds  for  a  season,  but  in  tlie  midst  of  all  they 
shall  liave  an  inward  consciousness  of  God's  presence,  and  an  un- 
shaken confidence  in  his  protection. 

With  these  Scriptural  truths  before  us,  let  us  see  if  wc  cannot 
account  for  some  of  those  strange  appearances  wliicli  wc  liave 
recounted,  without  supposing  that  they  were  purely  the  cITect  of 
witchcraft,  in  the  popular  acceptation  of  that  word. 

Let  it  be  remembered,  then, — 

1.  That  a  belief  in  witches  was  very  generally  prevalent  at  that 
time,  not  in  New-England  only,  but  also  in  almost  every  part  of 
the  world.  Among  the  "  doctrine  of  devils" — or  of  dcmoiis,  as  the 
word  devils  should  be  more  properly  rendered — said  to  have  been 
invented  by  the  corrupt  Church  of  Rome,  was  this  concerning  the 
existence  of  infernal  spirits  and  their  influence  over  the  souls  and 
bodies  of  men.  This,  no  doubt,  was  boiTowed,  among  other  absurd- 
ities, from  the  "heathen  round  almut  llicm,"  and  was  retained  as  a 
relic  of  that  superstition  with  which  llie  minds  of  tlie  ignorant  were 
so  easily  deluded.  In  transferring  to  the  Christian  churcli  the  idols 
of  heathenism,  under  the  more  winning  names  of  St.  Mary,  St. 


446  Colton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

Peter,  St.  Paul,  and  a  host  of  other  saints,  by  which  the  worship 
of  Christians  was  assimilated  to  the  mythological  reveries  of  poly- 
theism, tlie  doctrine  concerning  their  subtile  demons  easily  slipped 
in,  and  became  a  bc\\  itching  pari  of  a  corrupted  form  of  Cliris- 
tianity.  This  accounts  for  its  general  prevalence  throughout  the 
Christian  world,  Protestant  as  well  as  Catholic,  in  those  days. 

2.  Allowing  that  Satan  and  his  aids  now  work  in  the  hearts  of 
the  children  of  disobedience,  who  can  tell  to  what  lengths  of  de- 
ception he  may  enable  them  to  go  ?  And  wlioever  will  carefully 
and  impartially  examine  the  instances  recited  in  the  preceding 
pages,  with  a  little  acquaintance  with  human  nature,  together  with 
the  laws  whicli  govern  our  physical  and  moral  being,  will,  it  is 
behcved,  satisfy  himself  that  nothing  more  was  necessary  than  a 
little  cunning  .'irtifice,  mixed  with  a  suitable  degree  of  moral  de- 
linquency, and  a  deliglit  in  the  marvelous,  to  enable  them  to  per- 
form all  these  wonderful  feats  :  that  fondness  to  excite  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  others,  so  predominant  in  the  human  breast, 
especially  in  those  unrenewed  b}'  divine  gi'ace,  no  doubt  was  a 
strong  propelling  motive  to  those  who  were  the  unhappy  subjects 
of  these  delusions,  and  ojjerated  as  a  powerful  stimulant  to  keep  up 
the  excilomcnl  wliich  was  produced  by  these  marvelous  exploits. 

3.  But  in  the  next  place,  the  most  of  these  strange  things  rested, 
for  their  trutli  and  reality,  on  the  testimony  of  the  subjects  of  these 
afflictions  themselves.  The  hand  that  smote  them  was  invisible — 
the  pins  stuck  in  their  flesh,  the  horse  upon  whicli  the  bewitched 
rode,  were  not  seen  by  the  bystanders,  but  llie  persons  on  whom 
the  supposed  witches  practiced  their  cruel  arts  said  that  these 
tilings  were  so.  Take  as  an  instance  of  this  the  person  who  "  rode 
from  ^Vndnver  upon  a  stick  above  ground,  and  that  on  the  v/ay  the 
stick  broke,  and  gave  the  said  F.  a  fall,  '  lohcisby,^  said  she,  '  I  got 
a  fall  and  hurt,  of  tvhich  I  am  still  sore.^ "  Here  it  will  be  ob- 
served, that  the  grave  narrator  of  this  wonderful  journey  through 
tlie  air  had  iiolhing  but  the  bare  word  of  tlie  said  F.  for  tlie  truth 
of  this  aerial  voyage.  The  whole,  too,  was  performed  in  the  in- 
visible world.  And  yet  "  the  slick  broke,"  and  she,  of  course,  fell 
to  the  earth !  But  to  confirm  her  testimony  and  to  clear  herself, 
she  artfully  contrives  to  accuse  two  others,  who  were  already  in 
prison  on  suspicion  of  being  witches,  as  the  guilty  instruments  of 
her  aflliclion.     How  plausible  was  all  this  !    And  yet  how  easily, 


1811.]  Cotto7i  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  447 

had  not  the  minds  of  tlic  people  been  bcwiklcred  with  a  previous 
bchef  in  these  absurd  stories,  miglit  the  deceit  have  been  de- 
tected ! 

4.  Lotus,  however,  select  one  case  as  a  fair  sample  of  the  whole, 
namely,  tliat  of  the  ho7-se  rider. 

Though  she  rode  upon  a  horse,  slie  did  not  go  out  of  the  house, 
notwithstanding  she  sometimes  "  ambled,"  sometimes  "  trotted," 
and  at  other  times  '•'  galloped  very  furiously."  All  this  took  place 
in  the  room.  How  far,  think  you,  did  she  amble,  and  trot,  and 
gallop,  without  going  out  of  a  common-sized  room  ?  They  could 
not,  indeed,  ''perceive  that  she  moved  by  the  stress  of  her  feet 
upon  the  gi-ound,  for  often  she  touched  it  not."  Sometimes,  and 
indeed,  most  of  the  time,  it  seems  she  did  touch  the  ground,  for 
"  oftentimes"  only  she  did  not.  The  reader  will  observe,  more- 
over, that  all  this  time  she  was  sitting  in  her  chair,  for,  says  the 
historian,  "  she  would  in  her  chair  be  agitated,"  when  "  she  would 
give  a  spring  as  one  mounting  a  horse,  and  setting  herself"  (that  is, 
still  in  the  chair)  "  in  a  riding  posture." 

Now  it  appears  to  us  that  it  required  no  gTcat  skill  in  the  arts 
of  legerdemain  to  play  off  these  antic  tricks  so  as  to  mimic  a 
riding  mistress,  even  while  scaled  in  a  chair.  H'ad  the  pythoness 
actually  risen  from  the  floor,  with  or  without  her  chair,  and  sailed 
through  the  air,  either  in  an  ambling,  trotting,  or  galloping  motion, 
and  then  descended  from  her  air}-  flight,  and  lighted  on  the  ground 
in  sight  of  tlio  spectators,  there  had  been  some  foundation  for  the 
belief  that  she  was  indeed  assisted  by  an  invisitilc  peison.  But 
nothing  of  this.  Seated  in  her  chair,  she  suddenly  exerts  her 
muscular  energies  as  if  mounting  upon  a  horse,  and  then  not  unlike 
some  of  our  more  modern  proficients  in  "animal  magnet  ism,"  is 
suddenly  agitated  with  violent  motions,  into  which  every  artful 
impostor  might  throw  herself,  in  imitation  of  a  person  on  horseback, 
ambling,  trotting,  or  galloping  through  the  air,  though  all  this 
time  she  is  snugly  seated  in  her  chair.  Hence  she  is  truly  be- 
witched ! 

But  "her  horse,"  says  the  historian,  "would  sometimes  throw 
licr  ofl"  with  much  violence,  especially  if  any  one  stabbed  or  cut  the 
air  under  her."  How  did  the  spectators  know  this  ?  All  these  things 
were  carried  on  in  the  invisible  world.  They  neither  saw  nor  felt 
the  horse.     Her  bare  word  was  all  the  warrant  they  had  that  such  an 


448  Cot.lon  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July,  | 

animal  was  there.     And  having  so  far  imposed  upon  their  crcduhly  % 

as  to  induce  a  belief  in  licr  veracity,  liow  easily  could  she  lead  | 

them  on  in  the  delusion,  by  throwing  herself  violently  upon  the  \ 

floor  whenever  they  sundered  the  elastic  foundation  upon  which  i! 

the  horse  trode,  by  stabbing  or  cutting  the  air !    She  sees  the  | 

fearful  stroke  of  the  sword  about  to  sever  the  sightless  floor  upon  \ 

which  her  horse  trotted,  and  then  throws  herself  with  violence  upon  | 

the  ground,  charging  the  whole  mischief  upon  an  absent  person  | 

by  whom  she  is  bewitched,  or  upon  malicious  spirits  who  had  con-  t 

spired  against  l;cr  happiness.  5 

Yet  there  is  one  exploit  not  so  easily  accounted  for.    "At  length,"  1 

says  the  narrator,  "  she  pretended  that  her  horse  could  ride  up  the  1 

stairs ;  and  unto  admiration  she  rode  (that  is,  was  tossed  as  one  | 

that  rode)  up  the  stairs."     No  doubt  she  cut  a  strange  figure  in  | 

thus  r\iimicing  the  riding  woman,  while  the  invisible  horse  was  I 

striding  wiili  its  load  up  these  stairs  !     Here,  however,  the  spirits  i 

were  confounded.      Entering  the   study  of  the  good  man,  "  she  | 

stood  immovably  upon  her  feel,  and  cried  out,  Thci/  are  gone !  | 

Theij  arc  gone  !    Tlicy  say  they  cannot — God  won't  let  'cm  come  1 

here."  I 

Here  the  cunning  craftiness  of  the  damsel  was  most  strikingly  J 

manifested.     Slie  knew,  doubtless,  that  her  pastor  was  in  high  re-  | 

pulation  for  the  sanctity  of  his  character.     And  therefore  to  profess  | 

such  a  reverence  even  for  the  study  of  the  holy  man  of  God,  as  ? 

not  to  allow  the  evil  spirits  themselves,  with  all  their  bold  malevo-  | 

lence,  to  desecrate  it  by  their  presence,  was  a  master  stroke  of  I 

policy  to  gain  credit  for  her  sincerity  among  all  the  pious  part  of  ; 

the  community.     These  infernal  beings  had  not  half  the  courage  | 

their  master  possessed,  who  had  the  audacity  to  assail  the  Son  of  | 

God  himself  for  forty  days  in  the  wilderness,  and  then  to  take  him  | 

upon  the  pinnacle  of  the  holy  temple,  whence  he  templed  him  to  \ 

cast  himself  down,  urging  as  a  motive,  that  for  such  a  presumptuous  | 

act,  "God  shall  give  his  angels  charge  concerning  thee,  and  in  | 

their  liands  shall  they  hear  thee  up."     Nor  yet  so  much  as  Satan  had  | 

when  he  entered  paradise  and  approached  even  the  holy  mother  of  | 

the  human  race  v.-ith  the  subtilety  of  his  lies  against  God ;  for  I 

surely  this  pious  man's  study  was  not  more  holy  than  paradise,  \ 

nor  its  owner  than  were  .\dam  and  Eve.  And  yet,  w'hile  the  latter  | 
were  approached  by  the  serpent,  and  that  most  successfully  too, 


IB'Il.]  Cotton  Mather  on  Witclicraft.  449 

tlic  study  of  the  former  was  so  holy  as  to  suspend  the  power  of 
tlicsc  infernal  spirits,  and  the  possessed  was  instantly  restored  to 
jicr  right  mind  !     Sucli  was  the  magical  influence  of  the  study  ! 

There  is  yet  another  instance  of  the  foresight  of  this  afflicted 
maid,  and  an  evidence  too  that  she  was  by  no  means  destitute  of 
common  sense,  however  destitute  she  might  have  been  of  common 
honesty.  A  Quaker  bool;,  a  popish  booh,  and  a  prayer  hook,  she 
could  read  with  the  same  composcdness  that  she  could  a  book  of 
jests  and  plays.  How  exactly  did  she  suit  herself  to  the  vulgar 
prejudices  of  th.c  age  !  She  knew  perfectly  well  that  the  Quakers 
were  held  in  as  much  abhorrence  by  these,  our  Puritan  fathers,  as 
were  the  witches  themselves,  because  they  had  been  treated  with 
the  same  severity.  How  perfectly  adapted,  therefore,  was  this 
conduct  to  win  the  favor  of  the  people,  by  making  them  believe 
that  a  Quaker  book  was  so  agreeable  to  these  nefarious  complotters 
against  the  peace  and  happiness  of  community,  that  they  were 
quite  willing  their  servants  should  read  it,  only  when  they  came 
to  tlic  Scriptural  terms  God  and  Christ,  they  must  be  passed  over. 
The  same  prejudices  also  existed  against  popish  books  and  the 
prayer  book,  which  the  girl  could  read  by  the  permission  of  her 
infernal  prompters.  This,  she  knew  perfectly  well,  was  humoring 
the  prejudices  of  her  admuxrs,  and  would,  therefore,  tend  much  to 
conciliate  their  favor. 

If  it  be  said  that  these  were  mere  human  compositions,  and 
therefore  might  be  read,  though  she  could  not  read  the  Holy  Scriji- 
turcs  ;  it  is  answered,  that  her  catechism,  which  she  was  forbidden 
to  rend,  was  also  a  human  composition ;  but  this  catechism  was 
considered  orthodox,  while  Quaker  books,  the  prayer  book,  and 
popish  books,  all  of  which  .she  could  read  composedly,  were  con- 
sidered heterodox,  and  therefore  favored  the  cause  of  antichrist, 
which  the  evil  spirits  were  anxious  to  establish. 

5.  These  considerations  clearly  establish,  in  our  mind,  one  thing, 
and  that  is,  that  all  these  feats  may  be  accounted  for  without  re- 
sorting to  the  intervention  of  invisible  agencies,  any  further  than 
Satan,  by  his  wily  arts,  may  work  upon  the  minds  of  those  who 
arc  beguiled  from  the  simplicity  of  truth  and  honest}'-,  to  induce 
them  to  act  tlie  hypocrite  for  base  and  selfish  purposes.  To  what 
lengths  the  human  mind  may  go  in  the  arts  of  deception,  influ- 
enced only  by  the  common  impulses  of  a  wicked  lieart,  and  led  on 


450  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

by  the  temptations  of  llic  arcli  adversary,  wlio  can  tell  ?  Wc  are 
told,  indeed,  of  "  lying  wonders,"  of  the  "  deceivablcness  of  all 
unrighteousness."  And  when  onc_c  a  person  lias  given  himself  up 
to  work  wickedness,  ho  may  turn  himself  into  a  thousand  shapes, 
invent  a  thousand  ways  to  carry  on  his  recondite  plans  of  decejition, 
so  as  to  elude  detection,  and  among  others,  may  artfully  contrive 
to  make  liis  easy  dupes  believe  that  others  have  bewitched  him,  or 
that  he  is  tormented  by  an  invisible  hand. 

6.  That  this  was  so  in  the  present  cases,  we  have  evidence  from 
one  of  the  relators  of  these  maiTclous  stories,  who  seems  not  to 
have  been  so  easily  gulled  as  some  others.  Dr.  Mather,  indeed, 
indorses  the  narrative,  and  tells  us  that  he  took  it  from  the  manu- 
script of  the  author ;  but  the  credulity  of  Mather  was  proverbial, 
especially  in  every  thing  which  tended  to  throw  discredit  upon  iiis 
antagonists,  and  to  blazon  forth  the  fame  of  his  own  denomination. 
We  do  not,  indeed,  question  the  honesty  of  his  purpose,  his  piety, 
or  his  learning;  but  that  he  too  easily  fell  in  with  the  prejudices 
of  the  age,  and  fostered  a  strong  sectarian  feeUng,  is  manifest  from 
all  his  writings,  and  in  none  more  strikingly  than  in  his  remarks 
about  the  Quaker  and  popish  books,  the  prayer  book,  and  those 
written  in  favor  of  or  against  witches.  Some  of  his  contemporaries, 
hov/cvcr,  were  much  less  credulous.  It  would  seem,  therefore, 
that  the  more  thinking  part  of  the  community  began  to  be  suspi- 
cious that  all  was  not  right,  and  hence  they  were  led  to  adopt 
measures  to  detect,  if  possible,  and  expose  the  character  of  the 
witchcraft  with  which  tliey  had  been  deluded,  to  arrest  proceedings, 
and  to  suppress  the  accumulating  evils,  which  evidently  flowed 
from  those  transactions.  That  the  reader  may  see  for  liimself 
how  these  things  were  brought  about,  we  will  give  him  the  author's 
own  relation  of  the  facts.     He  remarks  as  follows  : — 

"  By  these  tliiuCTS  you  may  see  how  this  mrittcr  was  cnnicd  on,  viz.y 
chiefly  by  llio  comjilaints  and  accusations  of  the  afllictcd  (bewitched 
ones,  as  it  was  supposed)  and  then  by  the  confessions  of  the  acrused 
comlcninin'5  themselves  and  others.  Yet  experience  showed,  that  the 
more  there  were  ;iiiprehenderl,  the  more  were  still  afflicted  by  Sa!,in  ; 
and  the  nuinlier  of  confessors  increasinfr,  did  but  increase  tlie  miiiiber 
of  the  acnisdl ;  riiul  ihe  oxcevitiiiij;  of  some,  made  wav  fur  the  :r|i|ire- 
hending  of  otlirrs  :  for  still  the  alllictcd  complained  of  beini;  tormented 
by  new  objects,  as  llie  former  v/ere  removed.  So  that  those  that  were 
concerned,  grew  amazed  at  the  number  and  quality  of  the  persons 
accused  and  feared  that  Satan  by  his  wiles  had  enwrapped  innocent 


1S41.]  CoUon  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  451 

persons  under  tlie  imputation  of  that  crime.  And  at  last,  it  was  evi- 
dently seen,  that  tliore  nnist  be  a  stop  put,  or  the  generation  of  the 
children  of  God  would  fall  under  that  condeinnalion.  Henceforth 
therefore  the  juries  generally  acquitted  such  as  were  tried,  fearing  they 
had  gone  too  far  before.  And  Sir  'William  Phips,  the  governor,  reprieved 
all  that  were  condemned,  even  the  confessors  as  well  as  others.  And 
the  confessors  generally  fell  off  from  ihcir  confessions,  some  saying, 
thcij  remembered  nothing  tchat  thet/  had  said ;  others  said,  they  had  helicd 
thcmsches  and  others.  Some  broke  jirison  and  ran  away,  and  were  not 
strictly  searched  after.  Some  acijuittcd,  some  dismissed,  and,  one  way 
or  otl^r,  all  that  had  been  accused  were  set  or  left  at  liberty.  And, 
although  had  the  times  been  calm,  the  condition  of  the  confessors 
might  have  called  for  a  mcUus  cnquirendinn ;  yet,  considering  the  com- 
bustion and  confusion  this  matter  had  brought  us  unto,  it  was  thought 
safer  to  underdo  than  overdo,  especially  in  matters  capital,  where 
what  is  once  comjilcted  cannot  be  retrieved  ;  but  what  is  left  at  one 
time  may  be  corrected  at  another,  upon  a  review  and  clearer  discovery 
of  the  state  of  the  case.  Thus  this  matter  issued  somewhat  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  It  may  he  queried.  How  doth  it  appear  that  there  was  a  going  too 
far  in  this  affair  1 

"By  the  numbers  of  the  persons  accused,  which  at  length  increased 
to  about  a  himdred ;  and  it  cannot  be  imagined  that  in  a  place  of  so 
much  knowledge,  so  many,  in  so  small  a  compass  of  land,  should  so 
abominably  leap  into  the  devil's  lap  all  at  once. 

"  The  quality  of  several  of  the  accused  was  such,  as  did  bespeak 
letter  things,  and  things  thai  accompany  salvation ;  persons  whose 
blameless  and  holy  lives  before  did  testify  for  them;  persons  that  had 
taken  great  pains  to  bring  up  their  children  in  the  nurture  and  admoni- 
tion of  the  Lord  ;  such  as  we  had  charity  for,  as  for  our  own  souls  : 
and  charily  is  a  Christian  duty  commended  to  us. 

"  The  number  of  the  afflicted  daily  increased,  until  about  fifty  per- 
sons were  thus  vexed  by  the  devil.  This  gave  just  ground  to  suspect 
some  mistake,  which  gave  advantage  to  the  accuser  of  the  brethren  to 
make  a  breach  upon  us. 

"  It  was  considerable,  that  nineteen  were  executed,  and  all  denied 
the  criiue  to  the  death,  and  some  of  them  were  knowing  persons,  and 
had  before  this  been  accounted  blameless  livers.  And  it  is  not  to  be 
imagined,  but  that  if  all  had  been  guilty,  some  would  have  had  so 
much  tenderness,  as  to  seek  mercy  for  their  souls,  in  the  w-ay  of  con- 
fession and  sorrow  for  such  a  sin.  And  as  for  the  condemned  confes- 
sors at  the  bar,  (they  being  reprieved,)  we  had  no  experience  whether 
they  would  stand  to  their  self-condemning  confessions  when  they  came 
to  die. 

"  When  this  prosecution  ceased,  the  Lord  so  chained  vp  Satan,  that 
the  aniicted  grew  presently  well :  the  accused  arc  generally  quiet;  and 
for  live  years  since,  we  have  no  such  molestation  by  them." 

It  was  certainly  a  mark  of  wisdom  and  benevolence  for  llicm  to 
slay  ilieir  proceedings,  and  the  effects  which  followed  are  a  proof 


452  Cotlon  Mallwr  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

that  a  fanatical  delusion  had  seized  the  minds  of  all  concerned  in 
these  unhappy  affairs. 

To  all  that  has  been  said  uj)on  this  subject,  it  may  bo  objected, 
that  the  sacred  Scriptures  give  their  sanction  to  the  existence  of 
■nnlchcraft.  That  '\vitchcs  did  exist  in  tlie  land  of  Israel  is  not 
disputed.  But  that  they  were  what  they  pretended  to  be,  is  denied. 
That  they  did,  by  their  "  cunning  craftiness,"  impose  upon  the 
minds  of  others,  by  making  them  believe  in  their  supernatural 
power.s,  that  they  derived  assistance  from  invisible  agents,  to  enable 
them  to  perform  their  wonderful  exploits,  is  a  truth  amply  sup- 
ported both  by  profane  and  sacred  history.  But  that  they  were 
hypocrites,  and  tliereforc  used  their  arts  of  necromancy  for  the  v'ile 
purpose  of  deceiving  the  people,  is  ccjually  evident.  To  be  con- 
vinced of  this,  let  us  examine  some  of  the  instances  of  witchery 
and  necromancy  left  on  record  in  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

The  cliarar-ter  and  conduct  of  those  people  are  well  described 
in  Isa.  xxix,  4,  "  And  thou  shalt  be  brought  down,  and  shalt  speak  :| 

out  of  the  ground,  and  thy  speech  shall  be  low  out  of  the  dust,  and  | 

thy  voice  shall  be,  as  of  one  that  hath  a  familiar  spirit,  out  of  the  i 

ground,  and  thy  speech   shall  whisper  out  of- the  dust."      Here  j 

l!io»e  who  professed  to  have  a  "familiar  spirit,"  that  is,  who  pre-  1 

tended  to  be  under  the  influence  of  invisible  ghosts,  who  had  risen  | 

from  the  dead,  uttered  their  words  in  a  low,  sepulchral  tone  of 
voice,  which  they  feigned  for  the  pm-po.=e  of  deceiving  their  hearers, 
making  them  believe  it  was  the  voice  of  the  ghost  instead  of  their 
own.  It  is  said  thai  they  had  a  method  of  uttering  their  words  as 
if  they  proceeded  froiu  the  chest,  and  not  from  the  natural  organs 
of  speech,  and  could  so  impose  upon  the  hearer  as  to  induce  a 
belief  that  the  sound  came  from  beneath  the  ground,  from  a  great 
distance,  and  even  from  an  opposite  direction  from  what  it  did  in 
reality.  And  docs  not  every  body  know  that  our  modem  ventrilo- 
quists possess  this  art  in  the  highest  perfection — that  they  can 
imitate  a  variety  of  human  voices,  high,  low,  shrill,  or  hoarse, 
sepulchral  or  otherwise,  and  make  you  imagine  that  they  are  holding 
conversation  with  anodier  at  a  distance,  and  by  the  modulations 
of  the  voice  bring  him  apparently  nearer  and  nearer,  until  an  actual 
contact  terminates  in  a  violent  collision  between  the  interlocutors? 
Nay,  that  they  will  imitate  the  pnrrings  of  the  cat,  the  barking  of 
the  dog,  the  squealing  of  the  pig,  or  the  gruntings  of  the  hog,  or 


1841.]  Collon  Maihcr  on  Wilchcraft.  453 

even  the  throlllings  of  a  dying  animal,  as  well  as  the  gurglings  of 
water  swiftly  poured  from  a  bottle.  These  prartks,  which  are 
played  off  with  so  much  dexterity,  are  but  imitations  of  the  ancient 
wilclies  and  necromancers,  who  infested  the  land  of  Israel,  and 
who  spread  themselves  through  all  lands,  but  especially  the  land 
of  New-England  in  the  days  of  Cotton  JIather. 

It  was  doubtless  on  account  of  the  crafty  manner  in  which  they 
imposed  upon  the  ignorant  multitude,  who  were  so  easily  beguiled 
by  their  bewitching  enchantments,  that  God  said  unto  his  chosen 
people,  "  Regard  not  them  that  have  familiar  spirits,  neither  seek 
after  wizards,  to  be  defiled  b);-  them,"  Lev.  xix,  31.  And  in  Exod. 
xxii,  18,  it  is  said,  "Thou  shalt  not  sufler  a  witch  to  live."  Why 
this  strict  prohibition,  and  this  severe  penalty  1  Doubtless  because 
it  was  well  known  that  the  wizards  and  witches,  pretending,  as 
dieir  name  indicates,  to  be  uncommonly  wise,  sported  with  the 
credulity  of  the  uninformed  multitude,  gulled  them  out  of  their 
time  and  money  b)--  performing  tlicir  antic  trickeries,  under  the 
guise  of  supernatural  agencies.  This  was  their  crime  and  their 
shame.  They  were  in  fact  guilty  of  blasphemy  against  the  true 
God;  for  in  pretending  to  a  knowledge  of  invisible  things,  and  a 
foresight  into  futurity,  they  impiously  assumed  the  prerogatives 
of  the  Most  High,  and  daringly  usurped  a  place  in  his  government 
of  llie  world.  It  was  indeed  for  being  so  deeply  involved  in  tlicsc 
wicked  practices,  together  with  other  acts  of  idolatry,  injustice,  and 
licentiousness,  that  God  caused  the  Canaanites  to  be  destroyed,  as 
is  manifest  from  the  following  words,  Deut.  xviii,  10-14,  "There 
sh.all  not  be  found  among  you  any  one  that  maketh  his  son  or  his 
daughter  to  pass  through  the  fire,  or  that  uselh  divination,  or  an 
observer  of  times,"  (one  that  pretends  to  foretell  future  events  from 
the  aspects  of  the  heavens,  the  position  of  the  stars,  &c.,  like  the 
astrologers  of  Egypt  and  Chaldea,)  "  or  an  enchanter,  or  a  witch,  or 
.1  charmer,  or  a  consulter  with  familiar  spirits,  or  a  wizard,  or  a 
necromancer.  For  all  that  do  these  things  are  an  abomination  to 
the  Lord :  and  because  of  their  abominations  the  Lord  thy  God 
doth  drive  tiiem  out  before  thee.  Thou  .shall  be  perfect  with  the 
Lord  thy  God.  For  these  nations,  which  tliou  shalt  possess,  heark- 
ened unto  observers  of  times,  and  unto  diviners  :  but  as  for  thee, 
the  Lord  thy  God  hath  not  sufi'ercd  thee  so  to  do."  And  if  the 
Israelii cs  were  forbidden  to  pollute  themselves  with  these  aboiniii- 

YoL.  I.— 29 


451  Cotlon  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

able  idolators,  and  to  familiarize  themselves  with  these  wicked 
enchanters,  witches,  and  necromancers,  how  much  more  should 
Christians  deprecate  any  connection  with  such  vile  pretenders  to  a 
knowledge  of  invisible  things  and  of  future  events — a  kno^vledge 
professedly  derived  from  such  a  corrupt  source,  even  from  the 
infernal  spirits  of  the  invisible  world  ! 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  difficult  instances  to  be  accounted  for, 
is  that  concerning  Saul  the  falleji  king  of  Israel  and  the  witch  of 
Kndor,  as  it  stands  recorded  in  1  Sam.  xxviii,  6-25.  The  woman 
of  whom  this  fallen  and  troubled  king  inquired  concerning  his  fate 
was  one  who  "  liad  a  familiar  spirit,"  or  who  professed  to  have  in- 
lercour.se  with  an  invisible  demon,  over  whom  she  had  such  influ- 
.cncc  that  she  could  evoke  it  at  her  pleasure.  Now,  it  is  certain 
that  this  vile  woman  was  deceived  herself,  that  the  spirit  on  whom 
slie  called  did  not  come  forth,  and  therefore  Samuel  did  not  show 
himself  at  her  command,  but  at  the  command  of  a  liigher  power. 
That  she  was  deceived  in  her  expectation  of  evoking  her  familiar 
spirit,  is  evident  from  what  is  said  in  verse  12:  "And  when  the 
woman  saw  Samuel,  she  cried  with  a  loud  voice :  and  the  woman 
said,  Thou  hast  deceived  me  !  for  thou  art  Saul."  It  moreover  ap- 
pears, from  verse  M,  that  this  pythoness  did  not  know  Samuel, 
for  instead  of  calling  him  by  name,  she  said,  "  An  old  man  cometh 
up  ;  and  he  is  covered  with  a  mantle."  It  was  Saul,  not  the 
woman,  who  "perceived  that  it  was  Samuel."  From  the  whole 
accoiuU,  ihcreforc,  it  appears  undeniable  that  whatever  power  this 
enchantress  might  have  had  over  another  spirit,  she  had  none  over 
Samuel,  for,  contrary  to  her  expectations,  he  came  forth,  doubtless 
at  the  command  of  God,  while  all  her  enchantments  failed  of  their 
cfll'ct.  llciicc  it  is  right  to  conclude  that,  however  much  she  might 
have  imposed  upon  the  senses  of  her  deluded  followers  under  other 
circumstances,  she  utterly  failed  here,  and  all  her  machinations 
were  confounded  by  the  interposition  of  a  higher  and  holier  power. 

The  wickedness  of  this  woman's  character  is  clearly  depicted  in 
the  horror  which  she  felt  wlien  the  identity  of  King  Saul  -was  dis- 
closed to  her,  and  when  the  witchery  with  which  she  pretended  to 
work  her  miracles  was  discomfited.  Of  the  fearful  consequence 
resulting  to  her  in  case  she  hearkened  to  the  proposal  of  the  dis- 
guised monarch,  she  was  fully  aware,  when  he  came  to  inquire  of 
her,  "  for  the  wontan  said  unto  him,  Behold,  thou  knowest  wliat 
29* 


1841.]       ■  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  455 

Saul  halli  done,  how  lie  hath  cut  off  those  that  have  familiar  spirits, 
and  the  wizards  out  of  the  land.  Wiicrcfore  thou  laycsl  a  snare 
for  my  life,  to  cause  mc  to  die."  And  when  she  found  herself 
deceived  by  this  unhappy  king,  and  that  her  incantations  had  no  effect 
in  evoking  from  the  invisible  world  the  spirit  with  which  she  pro- 
fessed to  be  "  familiar,"  slie  uttered  a  cry  of  fear  and  astonishment, 
and  claimed  the  fulfihnent  of  his  promise  to  her,  that  her  life  sliould 
not  be  forfeited  for  complying  with  his  request.  See  ver.  21. 

That  Samuel  actually  appeared  to  Saul,  rebuked  him  for  liis 
folly  and  wickedness,  and  predicted  his  overthrow  and  death,  is 
undeniable,  and  therefore  we  have  an  evidence  here,  that  God  has 
permitted  and  commanded  disembodied  spirits,  for  wise  and  bene- 
volent purposes,  to  visit  the  earth,  and  to  converse  with  men.  So 
Moses  and  Elias  appeared  to  our  blessed  Saviour  on  Mount  Tabor, 
and  conversed  with  him,  probablj^  assuming  for  the  occasion  a 
visible  vehicle  for  the  purpose  of  making  themselves  known  to  the 
disciples  who  were  in  companj'-  with  their  divine  Master,  during 
the  splendid  exhibition  of  his  glory.  Eut  these  were  very  im- 
portant and  mo-st  extraordinaiy  events,  sufficient  to  justif}-,  even  in 
the  eye  of  reason,  such  miraculous  interpositions  of  the  divine 
Hand,  and  do  not  furnish  any  precedents  for  those  evcry-day  ap- 
pearances of  ghosts  with  which  the  wild  imaginations  of  the  credu- 
lous seem  to  be  filled  and  bewildered. 

Allowing  therefore  that  God  has  done  this,  and  may  do  the  like 
again,  it  fiunishes  no  just  ground  for  believing  in  those  incredible 
stories  respecting  the  diabolical  influence  whicli  infernal  spirits 
empower  a  human  being,  who  professes  to  be  in  league  with  the 
devil,  to  have  over  otlier  human  beings,  so  as  to  torment  them  with 
))ains,  to  transport  them  from  one  place  to  another,  and  to  force 
their  bodies  into  horrible  writhings  and  contortions. 

Upon  a  candid  review  of  this  whole  subject,  we  are  led  to  the 
conclusion,  that  the  popular  belief  in  witchcraft,  necromancy,  and 
fortune  telling,  has  its  foundation  in  an  ignorant  superstition*  on  the 

*  A  poet,  describing  a  person  living  in  great  ignorance,  very  aptly  says 
of  him, — 

" His  judgment  so  untaught, 

That  wliat  at  evening  played  along  the  swamps, 

Fantastic,  clad  in  robes  of  fiery  hue, 

He  thought  the  devil  in  disguise,  and  fled 

Wiih  quivering  heart,  and  winged  footsteps  home." 


456  Cotton  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

one  hand,  and  in  the  cunning  craftiness  of  hj-pocritical  pretenders 
to  an  insight  into  futurity  cm  the  otlicr.  These  jugglers,  under- 
standing something  of  those  physical  laws  known  to  chiniisls, 
taking  advantage  of  the  ignorant  credulity  of  the  uninfonncd 
multitude,  and  of  the  natural  bias  of  the  human  mind  to  a  super- 
stitious reverence  for  all  marvelous  appearances,  have  exerted  their 
skill  in  se])arating  and  combining  the  elements  of  nature,  or  of 
controlling  its  laws,  and  of  changing  and  modifying  their  own 
voices,  so  as  to  impose  upon  the  understandings  and  inveigle  the 
senses  of  their  fellow  men.  Let  any  man  who  is  unacquainted 
■wilh  the  causes  which  produce  the  various  phenomena  that  at  limes 
appear  in  ihc  heavens,  witness  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  or  moon, 
the  shooling  of  stars,  the  sudden  appearance  and  falling  of  meteors, 
or  the  coruscations  of  light  in  the  northern  heniisphere,  and  it 
would  be  easy  to  make  him  believe  that  those  appearances  indi- 
cated the  approach  of  some  extraordinary  event,  and  were  produced 
by  siipumatural  agencies — wliile  the  philosophical  inquirer  knows 
full  well  that  they  are  but  the  effects  of  natural  causes,  always, 
however,  under  the  control  of  His  hand  who  rules  the  universe. 

What  but  a  superstitious  veneration  for  these  natural  phenomena 
lias  caused  the  untaught  barbarian  to  suppose  that  every  uncommon 
appearance  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  in  caves  and  moimlaiu 
chasms,  in  the  unusual  swelling  of  the  tides,  in  earthquakes,  burn- 
ing fountains  of  water,  and  volcanic  eruptions,  are  either  indica- 
tions of  supernatural  interpositions  or  symbols  of  invisible  spirits, 
whicli  ought,  therefore,  to  be  worshiped  ? 

And  if  one  of  these  untaught  sons  of  nature  were  to  enter  the 
laboratory  of  the  skilful  chimist,  and  behold  the  exhibitions  of  his 
art,  in  the  analysis  and  combination  of  the  various  substances  of 
nature,  by  which  their  qualities,  colors,  and  powers  are  changed 
— were  he  to  witness  the  expansive  power  of  the  gases,  or  the 
electric  shock,  or  even  to  see  the  power  of  steam  propelling  a  boat 
through  the  water  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  or  twenty  miles  an  hour, 
without  masts  or  sails,  lie  would  be  struck  with  astonishment,  and 
could  easily  be  made  to  believe  tliat  the  chimist  was  a  wizard,  and 
tliat  the  steamboat  was  forced  through  the  water  by  an  invisible  hand. 
AJl  these  phenomena,  though  produced  by  the  art  of  man,  by  his 
skilful  control  of  the  elements  of  nature,  would  be  as  mysterious  and 
as  incomprehensible  to  his  untutored  mind  as  were  the  pranks  of  the 


1841.]  Cotton  Malhcr  on  Witchcraft.  457 

New-England  witclics  to  the  mind  of  Cotton  Mather,  or  as  would 
be  the  appearance  of  the  meteors  in  the  heavens  to  an  uninslructcd 
Hottentot,  and  as  unaccountable  as  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  to  an 
American  savage.  Nor  would  the  multitudinous  stories  respect- 
ing haunted  castles,  bewitched  men,  women,  and  children,  were 
they  investigated  with  the  keenness  of  candid,  enlightened  criti- 
cism, remain  any  more  mysterious  and  unaccountable,  it  is  believed, 
than  the  marvelous  adventure  of  the  French  minister  of  slate  who 
followed  the  pretended  ghost  into  his  cell,  and  there  found  him 
converted  into  a  companion  of  a  den  of  robbers.  Many  of  these 
strange  appearances  are  no  doubt  the  mere  effects  of  a  frighted 
imagination,  others  the  illusions  of  the  senses,  and  not  a  few  the 
productions  of  cunning  and  designing  men,  who  have  managed 
their  feats  of  legerdemain  so  dexlrously  as  to  elude  detection, 
while  they  succeeded  in  deluding  their  willing  dupes  into  a  belief 
■  of  their  supernatural  powers.  All  these  combined,  have,  at  times, 
exerted  an  influence  as  unhallowed  in  its  character  as  it  has  been 
mischievous  in  its  consequences. 

The  apostle  Paul,  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Galatians,  classes  ivitch- 
craft  among  the  "  works  of  the  flesh,"  and  affirms  that  "  they  that 
are  Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh,  with  the  affections  and  lusts." 
That  this  sort  of  witchcraft  exists  and  prevails  extensively,  we  have 
no  doubt.  All  those  who  are  under  tlie  dominion  of  merely  fleshly 
appetites,  or  are  "beguiled  from  the  simplicity  of  Christ,"  by  the 
fascinating  charms  of  human  eloquence,  the  pompous  show  of 
worldly  grandeur,  or  the  more  debasing  sorceries  of  a  corrupted 
form  of  Christianity,  are  as  much  bewitched  as  were  the  Galatians 
by  the  false  teachers  who  came  among  them.  Nor  are  the  "works 
of  the  flesh"  in  modern  days,  as  exemplified  by  the  gallantries  of 
voluptuous  men  and  women,  who  refuse  to  be  governed  by  the 
restraints  of  religion  and  morality,  any  the  less  worthy  of  being 
denominated  xuitchcraft,  than  were  tliose  who  deserved  that  re- 
proach in  the  days  of  the  apostle  Paul. 

This  inspired  apostle  contrasts  these  v^orks  of  the  fcsh  with 
\\\o.  fruit  of  the  Spirit;  and  as  he  considers  the  former  as  evi- 
dence of  a  species  of  witcJicraft,  so  he  dislinguisiies  the  latter  as 
an  evidence  of  Christian  character,  declaring  that  those  who  bring 
forth  this  fruit,  and  who  "walk  in  the  Spirit,"  are  no  longer  subject 
to  those  bewitching  sorceries  which  beguile  the  soul  from  the  purity 


458  Cotlon  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  [July, 

of  gospel  truth  and  holiness.    And  although  he  asks  them,  in  the  laji- 
giiage  of  strong  rebulie,  "Who  hath  hewilched  you,  that  )'e  should  not  \ 

obc}'  the  truth?"  he  manifestly  teaches  them  that  all  those  who  are  1 

under  the  government  of  Jesus  Christ  arc  no  longer  infatuated  by  3 

those  bewitching  errors,  nor  insnarcd  by  those  alluring  vices,  which  j 

distinguish  and  debase  the  characters  of  apostates  from  the  truth.  -1 

This  suggests  tlie  remedy  for  all  these  evils.     With  whatever  «. 

pertinacit}'  some  may  plead  for  the  existence  of  witchcraft,  in  the  \ 

popular  acceptation  of  that  word,  it  is  manifest  that,  in  the  opinion  | 

of  St.  Paul,  all  who  had  "  put  on  Christ,"  who  "  walked  in  new-  1 

ness  of  life,"  and  were  therefore  really  and  truly  Christians,  were  \ 

in  no  danger,  so  long  as  they  resisted  the  "  works  of  the  flesh"  and  \ 

"  lived  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,"  of  being  led  away  by  this  "  eiTor  I 

of  the  wicked."     Let,  then,  Christianity  prevail  in  all  its  purity  and  J 

renovating  power,  and  all  wizards  and  witches,  necromancers  and  \ 

sorcerers,  of  whatever  class,  shall  be  banished  frQm  human  societ)-.  | 

Their  books  shall  be  burned,  their  wily  arts  confounded,  and  tlieir  j' 

fascinating  charms  sliall  have  lost  their  bewitching  allurements,  and  | 

ihc  entire  craft,  with  all  its  means  of  deception,   shall  be  utterly  | 

anniliilatcd.  3 

Saul  went  not  to  the  witch  of  Endor  until  the  Lord  had  departed  ^ 

from  him.     And  this  is  a  lamentable  instance  of  the  changeability  l; 

of  human  nature.     He    who    once    denounced  witchcraft   in  the  :| 

boldest  terms,  and  placed  its  abettors  under  the  ban  of  his  empire,  | 

punishing  them  with  the  penally  of  death  for  all  such  treasonable  | 

offenses,  now,  t))al  God  had  forsaken  him,  threw  himself  into  tlie  I 

arms  of  this  artful  pythoness,  and  invoked  in  his  behalf  a  power  | 

which  heretofore  he  had  derided  and  condemned  !    Such  is  the  fate  | 

of  those  who  forsake  the  true  God  !  | 

Hence  no  one  who  is  "  fdlcd  with  the  Spirit"  of  God,  will  feel  i 

any  inclination  to  resort  to  these  deceitful  oracles  to  ascertain  his  <| 

own  fate,  or  tlic  fate  of  others.     He  has  "  a  more  sure  word  of  | 

propliccjr,  unto  which  he  does  well  to  take  heed,  as  unto  a  liglit  that  | 

shincth  in  a  dark  place  ;"  and  so  long  as  he   follows  this  liglit,  he  f 

will  not  only  shun  the  darkness  occasioned  by  these  dense  clouds  | 

of  error  and  superstition,  but  he  shall  have  "  the  light  of  life,"  and  I 

it  will  shine  upon  him,  both  on  his  understanding  and  conscience,  \ 

"more  and  mure  milo  the  perfect  day."  i 

Here,  then,  is  die  sovereign  remedy.     Christianity  can  have  no 


1841.]  CoUon  Mather  on  Witchcraft.  459 

concord  willi  this  demon  of  darkness.  Its  light,  its  power,  its 
purity,  disdain  an  alliance  with  the  prince  of  darkness,  weakness, 
and  impuril}-,  and,  therefore,  they  cannot  both  hold  dominion  in  the 
same  heart  at  the  same  time.  The  "  strong  man,  who  keepelh  his 
goods  in  peace,"  and  has  bewildered  the  understanding,  and  cor- 
rupted the  imagination  of  his  deluded  followers,  "  when  a  stronger 
than  he  is  come,"  must  submit  to  bo  bound,  to  have  his  goods  spoiled, 
and  to  be  cast  out,  and  dispossessed  of  his  usurped  dominion. 

That  the  illuminations  of  Christian  truths,  beaming  forth  through 
the  medium  of  a  refined  and  cultivated  intellect,  will  banish  the 
darkness,  not  only  of  heathen  idolatry,  but  also  of  all  the  trickeries 
of  witchcraft,  who  can  doubt?  The  only  effectual  way,  therefore, 
to  banish  this  doctrine  of  demons,  and  those  works  of  the  flesh, 
which  are  its  legitimate  fruits,  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  is  to 
secure  by  a  holy  hfe,  and  by  an  active  benevolence,  the  complete 
triumph  of  Christianity  all  over  the  inhabited  globe.  While  "  God 
is"  thus  "  in  his  holy  temple,  all  the  earth  shall  keep  silence 
before  him." 

How  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  If  he  take  possession  of  his  temple, 
can  the  usurper  hold  his  court  there  ?  But  Clmstians  "  are  the 
temples  of  the  living  God."  If  he,  therefore,  become  enthroned 
in  their  hearts,  shall  he  not  put  down  all  thrones  and  dominions 
which  exalt  themselves  against  him?  And  has  he  not  denounced 
war  and  death  against  all  witches,  wizards,  necromancers,  and 
sorcerers,  as  blasphemers  of  his  name,  as  workers  of  treason  against 
his  throne  and  kingdom,  and  as  complollcrs  with  all  his  other 
enemies  against  his  holy  and  peaceful  reign  upon  earlh  ?  Who, 
then,  that  has  sworn  allegiance  to  this  high  and  holy  King,  will 
seek  to  these  enchanters  in  preference  to  confiding  their  interests 
to  the  Lord  of  hosts  ? 

Let,  therefore,  this  religion  prevail.  Let  Christianity  lift  up  its 
banners,  and  let  its  sons  and  daughters  fight  under  the  Captain  of 
their  salvation,  and  they  need  not  fear  all  the  powers  of  darkness. 
Neither  wizards  nor  witches  shall  invade  their  habitation,  nor  have 
power  to  "  hurt  or  destroy  in  all  God's  holy  mountain,"  so  long  as 
they  arc  guarded,  protected,  and  supplied  by  the  King  of  Zion. 

Weslci/an  University,  1841. 


Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  [Ju'v, 


Art.  VII. —  The  Lfc  and  Poems  of  Rev.  George  Crabhc,  LL.B. 

In  1834,  Rev.  Gcorgo  Crabbe,  A.M.,  furnished  the  public  with 
a  memoir  of  his  venerable  and  talented  father,  then  lately  deceased. 
Very  seldom  has  a  "  Life"  been  \vritten  -which  was  so  peculiarly 
appropriate,  in  the  style  of  its  literary  execution,  to  the  character 
porlrayed,and  certainly  none  wherein  the  writer  has  more  thoroughly 
revealed  his  own  character  in  the  act  of  exhibiting  that  of  another 
person.  From  this  production,  and  the  few,  very  few,  biographical 
notices  of  this  poet,  with  wliich  the  public  has  been  favored  by  the 
magazines,  we  shall  endeavor  to  present  a  short  outline  of  his 
literary  career,  and  a  brief  analysis  of  his  poetical  works. 

George  Crabbe,  "  the  poet  of  the  poor,"  was  the  eldest  son  of 
the  salt  master  of  Aldborough,  Suffolk,  England.  His  father  was 
a  man  of  vigorous  mind  and  strong  passions,  and  famous,  in  his 
owTi  neighborhood,  for  his  facility  in  mathematical  calculations. 
Tiie  village  in  which  the  poet  was  born,  at  the  period  of  his  birth, 
was  a  poor,  miserable,  straggling  town,  lying  between  a  cliff  and 
the  ocean's  beach.  "It  consisted  of  two  parallel  and  unpaved 
streets,  running  between  mean  and  scrambling  houses,  the  abodes 
of  sea-faring  men,  pilots,  and  fishers.  The  range  of  houses  nearest 
the  sea  had  suffered  so  much  from  rejicatcd  invasions  of  the  waves, 
that  only  a  few  scattered  tenements  apjieared  erect  among  tlie 
desolation."  The  beach  was  covered  with  loose  shingles,  and  the 
remnants  of  the  fishing  boats  which  had  gone  to  pieces,  sometimes 
covered  with  fishermen  preparing  for  departure,  or  sharing  the 
spoils  ;  "  and  nearer  the  gloomy  old  town-hall  (the  only  indication 
of  municipal  dignity)  a  few  groups  of  mariners,  chiefly  pilots,  taking 
their  quick,  short  walk  backward  and  forward,  every  eye  watchful 
of  a  signal  from  the  olHng." 

The  neighboring  landscape  consisted  of  "  open  commons  and 
sterile  farms,  the  soil  poor  and  sandy,  the  herbage  bare  and  rushy, 
the  trees  '  few  and  far  between,'  and  withered  and  stunted  by  the 
bleak  breezes  of  the  sea."  Here,  where  nature  had  forgotten  to 
drop  beauties,  among  men  whose  manners  were  never  familiar  with 
cultivation,  and  whose  passions  were  never  the  obedient  subjects  of 
moral  restraints,  he  spent  the  first  days  of  his  life. 

His  father,  in  the  earliest  period  of  the  poet's  life,  was  of  a 


ISII.]  Life  and  Poans  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  4C1 

domestic  habit ;  and  altliougli  more  devoted  to  mathematical  calcu- 
hition  than  to  any  other  intellectual  pursuit,  he  was  accustomed 
"  occasionally  to  read  aloud  to  his  family  in  the  evenings,  passages 
from  Jlillon,  Young,  or  some  other  of  the  graver  classics,  with,  as 
his  son  thought  long  afterward,  remarkable  judgment,  and  with 
powerful  cftcct." 

Though  Crabbe  was  born  so  near  the  water,  he  "  had  few  of  the 
qualifications  of  a  sailor,"  and  on  their  little  fishing  excursions  his 
father  would  frequently  lose  his  patience  at  beholding  the  awkward- 
ness of  George,  and  exclaim,  "That  boy  must  be  a  fool !  John, 
and  Bob,  and  Will,  ai'e  all  of  some  use  about  a  boat ;  but  what 
will  that  thing  ever  be  good  for  V  The  memoir  informs  us  that 
this  was  a  mere  temporary  ebullition  of  anger,  for  Jlr.  Crabbe  did 
not  fail  to  perceive  indications  of  more  than  ordinary  talents  in  his 
eldest  boy,  and  did  all  that  he  possibly'  could  to  furnish  him  with 
a  good  education.  The  poet's  first  reading,  like  that  of  most  boys 
of  lively  minds,  led  him  principally  to  romance ;  and  when  that 
came  in  the  charming  dress  of  verse  it  was  doubl)'-  acceptable. 
His  father  Teceived  a  periodical  publication  called,  "  Martin's 
Philosophical  Magazine,"  each  number  of  which  contained  a  sheet 
of  poetry ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  year,  when  he  sent  the  work  to 
the  binder's,  he  cut  out  these  sheets,  which  "  became  the  property 
of  his  son  George,  who  read  their  contents  until  he  had  most  of 
them  by  heart."  He  became  famed  tlirougliout  the  neighborhood 
for  his  fondness  for  books,  and,  of  course,  was  considered  quite  a 
prodigy.  One  day  as  ho  was  passing  through  the  village,  he  hap- 
pened to  displease  one  of  his  companions,  who  immediately  ex- 
liibitcd  signs  of  inilicting  a  chastisement ;  but  another  boy  interfered 
in  behalf  of  "  the  studious  George."  "  You  must  not  meddle  with 
]w?i,"  said  he,  "  let  him  alone,  for  he  ha'  got  laming." 

Our  poet's  first  stanza  was  addressed  to  a  fair  little  lady  who 
attended  the  same  school  with  himself,  cautioning  her  not  to  be 
"  too  mucii  elevated  about  a  new  set  of  blue  ribands  to  her  straw 
bonnet."  When  he  arrived  at  his  fourteenth  year  his  father  deter- 
mined to  apprentice  him  to  a  surgeon ;  and,  consequently,  he  was 
removed  from  school.  No  situation  could  be  immediately  found, 
and  George,  meanwhile,  was  employed  as  an  assistant  to  his  father 
in  the  warehouse,  and  engaged  in  drudgeries  which  he  most 
thoroughly  detested.     He  soon  found  a  situation,  and  was  appren- 


468  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crabbe.  [Jul}', 

ticcd  to  a  surgeon  near  Bury  St.  Edmund.  Tliis  master  not  only 
gave  George  instruction  in  his  own  business,  but,  very  gratuitously 
indeed,  furnished  him  with  sundry  opportunities  to  engage  in 
agricultural  pursuits  on  his  own  farm ;  which,  together  with  the 
manner  in  which  he  was  fed  and  lodged,  was  not  so  verj'  agreeable 
to  him  :  and  he  consequently,  after  having  remained  about  three 
years  here,  went  to  a  Mr.  Page,  at  Woodbridgc,  near  Aldborough, 
wliere  lie  concluded  his  apprenticeship. 

While  at  Woodbridgc  he  became  acquainted  with  Miss  Sarah 
Elniy,  the  niece  of  a  weallhy  farmer  in  the  neighborhood  of  Par- 
ham,  for  whom  he  cherished  an  ardent  affection  for  twelve  long, 
painful  years,  and  to  whom  he  was  finally  married.  Shortly  after 
this,  when  he  was  in  his  eighteenth  or  nineteenth  year,  he  contended 
for  a  jirize  on  the  subject  of  hope,  in  one  of  the  minor  literary 
magazines  of  the  day,  and  tells  us  himself,  that  "  he  had  the  mis- 
fortune  to  gain  it."  Only  the  conclusion  of  that  poem  has  been 
preserved  in  a  note  in  the  memoir. 

Before  he  left  Woodbridgc,  he  published  at  Ipswich  a  short  poem, 
entitled  "  Inebriety."  His  memoir  tells  us  that  it  was  rude  and 
unfinished,  and  exhibited  a  marked  devotion  to  the  style  of  Pope. 
In  it  lie  took  more  than  one  occasion  of  "  girding  at"  the  cloth,  as 
his  son  expresses  it.     He  has  these  two  lines, — 

"  Champagne  the  courlier  drinks,  the  spleen  to  chase, 
The  colonel  Burgundy,  and  Port  his  grace." 
To  these  lines  his  biographer  very  appropriately  subjoins  the  fol- 
lowing remark  :  "  He  was  not  yet  a  ducal  chaplain."  There  are 
one  or  two  other  extracts  which,  if  our  article  were  not  hmited,  we 
would  copy.  They  paint  a  faithless  priest,  betraying  the  cause  of 
liis  Master  by  joining  in  the  unholy  indulgence  of  a  bacchanahan 
revel.  They  were  written  in  our  author's  twentieth  year,  before  lie 
attached  himself  to  the  church,  and,  we  may  add,  before  the  com- 
mencement of  the  temperance  reformation.  This  poem  was 
unsuccessful. 

In  1775  lie  concluded  his  apprenticeship  and  returned  to  Ald- 
borough, hoping  to  be  able  to  visit  London,  and  to  complete  liis 
professional  education  there.  His  father's  aflairs  being  somewhat 
deranged,  he  found  liis  hojics,  in  this  respect,  blasted.  He  had 
now  quite  as  much  leisure  as  he  could  ]iossibly  desire,  and  Lc 
devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  botany,  for  which  he  ever  maintained 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhc.  4G3 

a  great  fondness.  After  considerable  time  spent  in  Aklborougli,  liis 
father  found  means  to  send  liim  to  the  metropohs,  in  order  lo  make 
some  improvement  in  llic  knowledge  of  his  profession.  Here  he 
remained  eight  months,  but  his  funds  were  so  limited  that  when 
his  money  was  spent  and  he  returned  to  Suffolk,  he  was  "  but 
little  the  better  for  the  desultory  sort  of  instruction  which  had  alone 
been  within  his  reach." 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  Aldborough,  he  was  induced  to  "  set 
up  for  himself,"  but  with  very  little  success  indeed.  He  was 
obviously  not  fitted  for  the  calling  he  had  embraced.  "  The  sense 
of  a  new  responsibility  pressed  sorely  and  continually  on  liis  mind ; 
and  he  never  awoke  williout  shuddering  at  the  thought  that  some 
real  difliculty  might  be  thrown  in  his  way  before  night.  Ready 
sharpness  of  mind,  and  mechanical  cleverness  of  hand,  arc  the  first 
essentials  in  a  surgeon ;  and  he  wanted  tliem  both,  and  knew  liis 
deficiences  better  than  any  one  else  did."  Hope  seemed  revived 
in  him  at  one  period.  The  Warwickshire  militia  being  quartered 
in  the  town,  he  liad  the  practice  among  them,  which  somewhat  in- 
creased his  emoluments.  He  was  fortunate  in  making  the  acquaint- 
ance of  some  of  their  officers,  especially  of  Colonel  Conway,  (who 
afterward  became  a  celebrated  field  marshal,)  who  presented  him 
with  several  Latin  works  on  his  favorite  subject,  botany.  This  led 
him  to  the  study  of  Latin,  and  his  acquirements  in  that  language 
opened  the  works  of  Horace  to  him.  In  the  mean  time  he  carefully 
perused  the  British  poets,  and  filled  his  desk  with  his  own  pro- 
ductions. This  business,  however,  scarcely  afforded  him  the 
means  of  subsistence  ;  and  now  he  began  to  "  indulge  the  dreams 
of  a  yo\mg  poet." 

"One  gloomy  day,  toward  the  close  of  the  year  1779,  he  had 
strolled  to  a  bleak  and  cheerless  part  of  the  clift",  above  Aldborough, 
called  tlie  Marsh  Hill,  brooding,  as  he  went,  over  the  humiliating 
necessities  of  his  condition.  He  stopped  opposite  a  shallow,  muddy 
piece  of  water,  as  desolate  and  gloomy  as  his  owti  mind,  called 
the  Leech  Pond,  and  '  it  was  while  gazing  on  it,'  lie  remarked  to 
his  son,  one  happy  morning,  'that  I  determined  to  go  to  London 
and  venture  all.'  " 

Some  time  before  Jlr.  Crabbc's  death  an  article  appeared  in  the 
New  ■Monthly  Magazine,  which  then  bore  the  strongest  indications 
of  being  an  auto-biography.     We  arc  now  assiu-ed  in  his  memoir 


464                    Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.                 [July,  1 

that  it  was  actually  such.     Jn  that  sketch,  he  thus  alludes  to  the  ' 

period  of  his  history  at  which  \vc  have  arrived  : —  | 

"With  the  best  vcrsf.s  lie  coulil   MTite,   and  with  very  little   more,  | 

he  quitted  the  jihiee  of  his  Milh  ;  not  without  the  most  serious  appre-  | 
hensioiis  of  tlio  L()nse([uciicc  of  sr.ch  :i  step — apprehensions  which  were 
conquered,  and  burely  conquered,  by  tlie  more  certain  evil  of  the  pros- 
pect before  liiin,  should  he  reiuain  wliere  he  was.  When  he  thus  lied 
from  a  t,dooiny  jtrospect  to  one  as  uncertain,  he  had  not  heard  of  a 
youthful  adveriinrer,  whoso  file,  it  is  probable,  would,  in  some  decrvee, 
have  alVeclid  b.i-  sjiiril-.,  if  it  had  not  caused  an  alteration  in  his  pur- 
pose. Of  ChaUei  i<Mi,  bis  extraordinary  abilities,  his  enterprisini,r  spirit, 
Lis  writing  in  ])crio(Iical  publications,  his  daring  project,  and  his 
melancholy  fate,    he  had  yet  learned  nothing ;  otherwise   it   may  be 

supposed  that  a  warning  of  such  a  kind  would  have  had  no   small  iu-  :; 

fluence  u])on   a  mind  rather  vexed  with  the  present  than   expecting  | 

much  from  tlie^  future,  and  not  sufficiently  happy  and  at  ease  to  draw  I 

consolatiun  Iroiii  \  unity — much  less  from  a  comparison  in  which  vanity  > 

would  have  found  no  small  mortification."  | 

However,  he  had  delermincd  to  go :  it  only  remained  to  obtain  | 

possession  of  the  wiiercwilhal.     Of  himself  he  had  no  resources —  | 

liis  relatives  were  all  poor.     He  apphcd  to  Mr.  Dudlej'  North,  g 

whom  his  father  had  served  at  some  elections,  and  his  letter  was  | 

so  cxlraordinarj'  for  so  youthful  an  author,  that  llr.  North  did  not  | 

licsilate  a  moment.     The  sum  he  requested,  fve  pounds,   was  j 

immediately   advanced ;    George   started  for  the  metropolis,  and  \ 

landed  in  Lomiuii,  the  "  master  of  a  bo.x  of  clothes,  a  small  case  of  .1 

surgical  instruiiients,  and  three-  pounds  in  money."  I 

And  now  that  wc  have  accompanied  tlie  poet  to  London,  we  are  \ 

with  him  at  tlie  most  interesting  period  of  his  life.     With  all  the  | 

great  obstaeles  which  lie  had  to  encounter,  he  went  to  town  at  a  | 

time  not  inifavor;ible  to  a  new  candidate  in  poetry.     The  opening  J 

of  the  liiirJ  chajjier  of  his  memoir,  by  his  son,  is  so  very  descrip-  | 

live  of  the  state  of  the  literary  world  at  that  period  that  we  cannot  ] 
forbear  inserting  it : — 


"  The  giants,  Swift  and  Pope,  had  passed  away,  leaving  each  in  his 
departinent  examples  never  to  be  excelled  ;  but  the  style  of  each  had 
been  so  lon-j  imitated  by  inferior  persons,  that  the  world  was  not  un- 
likely to  welcome  some  one  who  should  strike  into  a  newer  patli.  Tho 
strong  and  pov,.rfid  .^atiri'^t,  Churchill,  the  classic  Gray,  and  tlic 
inimitable  (;o!dsiiiii!i,  had  also  departed:  and,  more  recently  still, 
Chatterton  had  paid  the  bitter  prnalty  of  his  imprudence,  under  cir- 
cumstances which  must  surely  have  rather  dis]iosed  the  patrons  of 
talent  to  watch  the  next  ojiporiunily  that  might  offer  itself  of  encou- 


18-il.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.Crahhc.  465 

raging  genius  'by  povrrty  depressed.'  The  stupendous  Johnson, 
unrivaled  in  general  literature,  had,  from  an  early  period,  M'ithdrawn 
liinisclf  from  poetry.  Cowpcr,  destined  to  fill  so  large  a  -space  in  the 
public  eye,  somewhat  later,  had  not  yet  appeared  as  an  author;  and 
as  for  Bums,  he  was  still  unknown  beyond  llie  obscure  circle  of  his 
fcUow-villagcrs." 

Wjien  he  arrived  in  London  lie  had  but  one  acquaintance,  Mrs. 
Burcham,  a  particular  friend  of  his  lady-love,  and  the  wife  of  a 
linen-draper,  in  Cornhill.  They  invited  him  to  make  their  house 
his  home,  but  he  declined  doing  so,  (he  was  quite  as  proud  as 
poor !)  yet  took  lodgings  near  them,  with  a  Mr,  Vickery,  a  very 
respectable  hair-dresscr.  In  this  lodging  he  spent  more  than  a 
year,  endeavoring  to  improve  himself  in  versification,  and  in  the 
study  of  human  nature.  He  formed  an  acquaintance  with  three 
talented  young  men,  then  as  poor  and  obscure  as  himself,  but  who 
afterward  arose  to  high  stations  in  society ;  Mr.  Dalby,  late  Pro- 
fessor of  JIathematics  at  Marlow,  Jlr.  Reuben  Burrow,  who  died 
in  a  high  civil  ofSce  in  Bengal,  and  Mr.  Bonnycastle,  for  many 
years  the  master  of  the  Military  Academy  at  Woolwich. 

As  soon  as  he  had  completed  some  short  pieces  in  verse  he 
offered  them  for  publication,  but  they  were  rejected.  He  attributed 
this  to  lack  of  merit,  and  devoted  himself  more  assiduously  to  his 
studies.  "While  he  was  preparing  a  more  favorable  piece  for  the 
inspection  of  a  gentleman  whom  he  had  then  in  view,  he  hazarded 
the  publication  of  an  anonymous  performance,  and  had  the  satis- 
faction of  hearing,  in  due  time, -that  something  (not  much,  indeed — 
but  a  something  was  much)  would  arise  from  it."  His  publisher, 
however,  failed  ;  and  profit  and  fame  were  still  only  prospective. 
The  production  alluded  to  was  called,  "  The  Candidate,  a  Poetical 
Epistle  to  the  Authors  of  the  Monthly  Review,"  and  was  published 
in  17S0.  The  faiku-e  of  his  publisher  threw  him  into  considerable 
embarrassment,  and  now  he  was  reduced  to  an  extreme.  He  wrote 
to  the  premier,  Lord  North  ;  to  Lord  Shelburne  ;  and  to  the  chan- 
cellor Thurlow,  but  without  success. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  ^Ir.  Crabbe's  memoir  is  the  journal 
which  he  kept  during  three  months  of  the  miserable  year  he  spent 
in  London.  It  is  dedicated  to  his  "  Jliva,"  a  name  under  which 
lie  chose  to  celebrate  l\liss  I'^lmy.  V\^c.  shall  give  detached 
passages,  showing  the  melanclioly  position  in  which  he  was 
placed. 


46G  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhc.  [July, 

"  April  28,  1780.  I  tliank  Heaven  my  spirits  arc  not  at  all  afTectcd 
by  Doilsley's  refusal.  I  have  not  been  able  to  get  the  poem  ready  for 
Mr.  Becket  to-day,  but  ^^■ill  take  some  pains  with  it.  I  find  myself 
tmdcr  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  vending  or  pawning  some  of  my 
more  useless  articles  ;  accordingly,  have  put  into  a  paper  snch  as  cost 
about  two  or  three  guineas,  and,  being  silver,  have  not  greatly  lessened 
in  their  value.  'I'he  conscientious  pawn-broker  allowed  me — '  he 
ihovi'hl  he  iiv.i;ht' — half  a  guinea  for  them.  I  took  it  very  readily, 
being  deterjuiiicd  to  call  for  them  very  soun,  and  then,  if  I  afterward 
wanted,  carry  them  to  some  less  voracious  animal  of  the  kind. 

"May  10.'  Mr.  Becket  said  just  what  Mr.  Dodsley  wrote,  'twas  a 
very  pretty  thing,  '  but,  sir,  these  little  pieces  the  town  do  not  regard : 
it  has  merit — perhaps  some  other  may.'  It  will  be  offered  to  no  other, 
sir.  '  AVcll,  sir,  I  am  obliged  to  you,  but,'  etc.,  and  so  these  little 
aflairs  have  their  end.  *  *  *  I  don't  think  there's  a  man  in  London 
wortli  hut  fuiirprrice-lialfjHnni/ — for  I've  this  moment  sent  seven  farthings 
for  a  pint  of  porter — who  is  so  resigned  to  his  poverty. 

"May  ]().  O!  my  dear  Mira,  how  you  distress  me!  You  inquire 
into  my  afl'yirs,  and  love  not  to  be  denied — yet  you  must.  To  what 
purpose  should  1  tell  yon  the  particulars  of  my  gloomy  situation  ;  that 
I  have  parted  wit!i  my  money,  sold  my  wardrobe,  pawned  my  watch, 
am  in  di-bt  to  my  landlord,  and,  finally,  at  some  loss  how  to  eat  a 
week  longer  ?  Yet  yoii  say.  Tell  me  all.  Ah,  my  dear  Sall_y,  do  not 
desire  it ;  you  must  not  be  told  these  things.  Appearance  is  what 
distresses  me  :  I  must  have  dress,  and  am  horribly  fearful  I  shall 
accompany  fashion  with  fasting  ;  but  a  fortnight  more  will  tell  me  of  a 
certainty. 

"  J^[lll/  18.  A  day  of  bustle — twenty  shillings  to  pay  a  tailor,  when  the 
stock  amounted  to  thirteen  and  threepence.  Well;  there  were  instru- 
ments to  jiart  with,  that  fetched  no  less  than  eight  shillings  more  ;  but 
twenty-one  shillings  and  threepence  would  yet  be  so  poor  a  superfluity, 
that  the  nnisc  would  never  visit  till  the  purse  was  recruited;  for,  say  men 
what  they  will,  she  does  not  love  empty  pockets  nor  poor  living.  Nov/, 
you  must  know,  m)'  watch  was  mortgaged  for  less  than  it  ought,  so  I 
redeemed  and  repledged  it,  which  has  made  me — the  tailor  paid,  and 
the  day'.s  expenses — ^at  this  instant  worth  (let  me  count  my  cash)  ten 
sliillinys — a  rare  case,  and  most  bountiful  provision  of  fortune  ! 

"  May  20.  The  cash,  by  a  sad  temptation,  greatly  reduced.  An 
unlucky  book-stall  presented  to  the  eyes  three  volumes  of  Dryden's 
"Works,  octavo,  five  shillings.  Prudence,  however,  got  the  better  of 
the  devil,  wlien  she  whispered  me  to  bid  three  shillings  and  sixpence  : 
after  some  hesitation,  that  prevailed  with  the  woman,  and  I  carried 
reluctantly  home,  I  believe,  a  fair  bargain,  but  a  very  ill-judged  one. 

"It's  liic  vilest  thing  in  the  world  to  have  but  one  coat.  My  only- 
one  lias  happened  with  a  mischance,  and  how  to  manage  it  is  some 
difliculty.  A  confounded  stove's  modish  ornament  caught  its  elbow, 
and  rent  it  half  away.  I'inioncd  to  the  side  it  came  home,  and  I  ran 
deploring  to  my  loft.  In  the  dilemma,  it  occurred  to  me  to  turn 
lailor  myself;  but  how  to  get  materials  to  work  with  puzzled  me.  At 
last  I  went  running  down  in  a  hurry,  with  three  or  four  sheets  of  paper 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhc.  467 

in  my  hand,  and  begged  for  a  needle,  &c.,to  sew  llicni  together.  This 
fiiiislied  my  job,  and  but  that  it  is  somewhat  thicker,  the  elbov/  is  a 
good  one  yet. 

"  These  arc  foolish  things,  Mira,  to  write  or  speak,  and  we  may 
laugh  at  them  ;  but  I'll  be  boimd  to  say  they  are  much  more  likely  to 
make  a  man  cry  where  they  hajipen — though  I  was  too  much  of  a 
philosopher  fur  that,  however  not  one  of  those  who  preferred  a  ragged 
coat  to  a  whole  one." 

These  arc  a  few  of  the  passages  whicli  malcc  up  the  "  Poet's 
Journal,"  with  the  addition  of  scraps  of  poetry,  skelclies  of  sermons, 
and  very  devout  prayers.  He  was  now  reduced  lo  the  greatest 
straits,  without  friends,  without  money,  starvation  and  a  prison 
staring  him  in  the  face,  with  no  earthly  resources  but  tliose  lo 
which  honesty  forbad  him  to  stoop.  He  looked  around  him  for  a 
friend  and  a  guide,  and  finally  "  he  fixed,  impelled  by  some  pro- 
pitious influence,  in  some  happy  moment,  upon  Edmund  Burke." 
His  letter  to  this  honorable  gentleman,  in  whicli  he  presents  him 
with  a  short  .sketch  of  his  career,  and  an  account  of  his  circum- 
stances, is  a  most  masterly  performance,  and  but  for  its  length  we 
should  be  pleased  to  insert  it  entire.  The  immense  burden  of  duty 
which  pressed  upon  the  statesman  at  this  period  did  not  prevent 
liim  from  giving  immediate  attention  to  this  letter  and  its  writer. 
He  sent  for  Crabbe,  "  and  the  short  interview  that  ensued,  entirely 
and  for  ever  changed  the  nature  of  his  worldly  prospects.  He  was, 
in  the  common  phrase,  '  a  made  man'  from  that  hour.  He  went 
into  Mr.  Burke's  room  a  poor  young  adventurer,  spurned  by  the 
opulent,  and  rejected  by  the  publishers,  his  last  shilling  gone,  and 
all  but  his  last  hope  with  it :  he  came  out  virtually  secure  of  almost 
all  the  good  fortune  that,  by  successive  steps,  afterward  fell  to  his 
lot."  Had  this  assistance  been  withheld  another  week,  or  another 
month,  the  names  of  Chattcrton  and  Crabbe  might  have  been 
written  in  one  epitaph.  This  generous  act  will  throw  a  halo 
around  Edmund  Burke^s  name  when  his  mighty  achievements 
upon  the  political  arena  will  be  comparativel}'  forgotten.  He  took 
the  young  poet  to  his  own  house,  introduced  him  to  his  principal 
friends,  among  whom  were  Mr.  Fox,  Sir  Joshua  RejTiolds,  and  Dr. 
Samuel  Johnson.  He  submitted  lo  Mr.  Burke  a  mass  of  mis- 
cellaneous poems,  from  which  those  called  "  Tlie  Library,"  and 
"The  Village,"  were  selected  forpublication.  Mr.  Burke's  patronage, 
doubtless,  had  some  influence  in  producing  the  favorable  notices 


468  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahbe.  [July, 

of  these  poems  wliicli  ajipcarcd  in  the  magazines  at  the  time. 
Success  now  attended  his  efforts,  and  hope  rewarmcd  his  heart. 
The  great  began  to  pay  some  attention  to  him,  and  Lord  Chancellor  I 

Thurlow,  wlio  had  neglected  two  of  his  letters,  now  invited  him  to  J 

breakfast,  and,  at  parting,  presented  him  with  a  letter  which,  when  I 

he  opened  upon  his  return  to  his  lodgings,  he  found  to  be  a  bank  \ 

note  for  a  himdred  pounds.  | 

It  was  soon  discovered  that  Mr.  Crabbe's  inclination  let}  him  to  \ 

tlie  churcli,  and  no  sooner  was  it  known  than  it  was  favored,  and  ; 

after  an  examination  by  the  bishop  of  Norwich,  he  was  admitted  to 
deacon's  orders,  in   London,   December  21,   1781,   and'  ordained  \ 

priest  in  the  following  August.     Lnmediately  upon  his  admission  ' 

to  deacon's  orders  lie  repaired  to  Aldborough,  to  officiate  as  curate  j 

to  the  rector  of  that  cinirch.     The  place,  however,  was  no  longer  i 

a  home  for  him.     His  fornjer  equals  envied  his  success,  his  mother  \ 

was  no  more,  his  father  had  contracted  an  imprudent  matrimonial  t 

aUiancc ;  and  after  experiencing  all  the  neglect  a  prophet  finds  in  \ 

his  own  country,  he  accepted  the  invitation  so  condescendingly  | 

given  by  the  duke  of  Rutland  to  become  his  domestic  chaplain.  I 

This  appointment  was  secured  to  Mr.  Crabbe  by  the  kindness  of  his  j 

great  patron,  Mr.  Burke.   At  Belvoir  Castle  our  poet  was  surrounded  \ 

by  much  that  would  tend  to  make  him  happy.     He  was  honored  f. 

by  the  duke  and  his  noble  lady,  and  there  formed  an  acquaintance  | 

with  the  duke  of  CJuecnsberry,  the  marquis  of  Lothian,  Dr.  Watson,  \ 

the  celebrated  bishop  of  Llandaff,  and  Dr.  Glynn.     These  gentle-  ^ 

men  were  foremost  in  showing  him  attention.  j 

While  at  Belvoir  Castle  he  completed  for  the  press  his  poem,  1 

entitled  "  The  ^'illage,"  a  production  for  which  he  procured  the  \ 

revision  and  commendation  of  Dr.  Johnson.     It  was  published  in  % 

May,  1783.     Its  success  was  wonderful;  it  was  praised  by  the  | 

magazines,  sold  rapidly  and  extensivel)'-,  and  secured  the  author's  i 

reputation.     It  was  about  this  time  that  he  obtained  the  degree  of  | 

LL.B.  from  the  archbishop  of  Canterbur)'.     In  17S4  the  duke  of  | 

Rutland  went  to  Ireland  as  lord  lieutenant,  but  Mr.  Crabbe  pre-  | 

ferred  to  remain.     Tlic  duke  offered  him  his  castle  as  a  home  while  | 

he  was  gone,  and  promised  to  place  him  in  an  eligible  situation  j 

upon  his  return.     That  event,  however,  never  took  place,  as  the  < 

duke's  demise  occurred  shortly  after  his  settlement  in  Ireland. 

In  December,  1783,  Mr.  Crabbe  was  married  to  IMiss  Elmy,  so 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahbe.  4G9 

long  the  object  of  liis  love.  Shortly  after  this  he  removed  from 
Iklvoir  Castle  to  the  obscure  parsonage  of  Strathorn,  where  he 
resided  four  successive  years.  In  17S5  he  published  "  The  News- 
paper," a  poem  whicli  fully  sustained  the  poetical  reputation  he  had 
accjuircd.  From  the  publication  of  this  poem,  for  the  long  space 
of  Iwcnty-two  years,  I\Ir.  Crabbc  retired  from  public  life,  devoting 
himself  to  his  studies  and  the  duties  of  a  parish  priest.  In  the 
meanwhile  lie  engaged  himself  busily  in  writing.  Most  of  the 
productions,  however,  were  never  presented  to  tlic  public  eye. 
His  son  records  one  instance  of  his  making  a  bonfire  of  his  manu- 
scripts in  the  open  air,  in  which  all  the  children  assisted  in  bringing 
out  tlie  literary  fuel  and  stirring  up  the  fire.  Among  these  was  a 
valuable  essay  on  his  favorite  subject,  botany,  whicli  was  destroyed 
because  a  pedantic  university  acquaintance  condemned  it  in  toto, 
as  it  was  not  written  in  Latin  !  Besides  that,  he  wrote  two  or  three 
novels,  some  characters  of  wliich  his  son  thought  were  drawn  with 
extraordinary  power ;  but  which  were  destroyed  soon  after  having 
been  finislicd.  We  need  not  dwell  on  the  minuti^  of  his  life  while 
in  tliis  long  seclusion  ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that  he  was  expanding  his 
mind,  acquiring  power  for  other  and  liigher  poetical  efforts,  and 
blessing  his  fellow  men  by  the  discharge  of  tlie  nobly  useful,  yet 
unobtrusive  duties  of  a  country  clergyman.  As  we  merel}'  wish  to 
jiresent  a  sketch  of  his  literary  cai-ecr,  it  is  not  necessary  to  dwell 
on  these  points. 

In  September,  1807,  Mr.  Crabbe  broke  from  his  seclusion,  and 
made  his  rcapjioarance  as  an  author.  He  presented  the  public 
with  a  new  edition  of  his  former  poems,  to  which  were  added 
"  The  Paris))  Register,"  "  Sir  Eustace  Grey,"  "  The  Birth  of 
Flattery,"  and  other  minor  pieces.  The  success  of  this  work  was 
unprecedented.  The  Edinburgh  Review,  that  severe  dispenser  of 
critical  dicta,  contained  a  very  flattering  notice  of  the  poems,  and 
two  days  after  its  appearance  the  whole  impression  was  disposed 
of.  In  his  "  Parish  Register,"  Mr.  Crabbe  exhibited  his  powers 
to  their  full  extent  for  the  first  time,  gave  the  most  palpable  pre- 
fciilaiion  of  his  mental  peculiarities,  and  assumed  his  appropriate 
Jilace  among  the  British  poets.  Complimentary  letters  now  flocked 
in  upon  him,  from  former  friends,  from  men  high  in  literary  repu- 
tation and  occupying  exalted  places  in  the  state. 

In  1810  "The  Borough"  made  its  appearance,  and  in  six  years 
Vol.  I.— 30 


470  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  [July, 

passed  through  six  editions.  The  reviewers,  almost  unanimously, 
pronounced  it  an  improvement  upon  his  last  effort,  "  containing 
greater  beauties  and  greater  defects  than  its  predecessor."  \\'e 
shall  speak  more  fully  of  it  when  we  come  to  an  analysis  of  his 
■works.  As  early  as  1812  his  "  Tales  in  Verse"  made  theu-  ap- 
pearance, and  found  a  more  cordial  welcome  from  the  public  than 
any  of  liis  preceding  poems.  They  were  distinct  narratives,  v.iih- 
out  any  of  the  slight  connection  between  the  parts  which  was 
attempted  in  "  The  Borough."  The  following  year  his  family  and 
himself  were  visited  with  a  heavy  domestic  calamity,  the  demise 
of  his  wife.  Not  long  after  this  he  received,  from  the  hands  and 
the  kindness  of  the  duke  of  Rutland,  the  living  of  Trowbridge,  in 
"Wiltshire.  Tliis  was  a  more  eligible  situation  in  many  respects 
than  the  one  which  he  formerly  occupied. 

In  this  new  residence  he  was  placed  near  a  brother  poet,  Kcv. 
W.  L.  Bowles ;  and,  being  in  the  vicinity  of  Bath,  he  was  often 
thrown  into  London  society.  This  succeeded  in  drawing  him  from 
his  retreat  to  the  metropolis,  which  he  visited  in  the  summer  of 
1817.  At  the  liouse  of  Mr.  Bowles  he  first  became  acquainted  with 
the  poet  Rogers,  whose  pressing  invitations  to  visit  London  he 
finally  accc])tcd.  When  he  arrived  in  town  he  took  lodgings  near 
that  gentleman's  residence,  to  whose  entire  circle  of  friends  lie  was 
presented,  and  who  received  him  with  a  sincere  and  cordial  wel- 
come. The  ])osition  Mr.  Rogers  held  in  society  commanded  for 
him  the  acquaintance  of  "  almost  every  one  distinguished  in  politics, 
fashion,  science,  hterature,  and  art ;"  and  in  this  brilliant  constella- 
tion our  poet  was  considered  a  star  of  no  mean  magnitude.  His 
association  in  early  life  with  such  men  as  Burke  and  Johnson,  his 
literary  reputation,  his  dignified,  gentlemanly  bearing — which  bore 
no  vestige  of  his  [humble  origin — and,  above  all,  his  warm  and 
gentle  iicart,  endeared  him  to  all  who  had  the  felicity  to  acquire  his 
acquaintance.  These  visits  he  repeated  several  successive  years, 
always  finding  an  increasingly  cordial  welcome.  The  journals 
which  he  kept  during  these  visits  contain  many  valuable  remarks 
upon  all  the  principal  personages  of  the  time,  for  there  were  few 
public  men  v.'ith  whom  he  had  not  become  acqiininled.  The  poet 
Moore  remarks,  that  "  they  much  resemble  the  journalizing  style 
of  Byron."  Our  limits  do  not  permit  us  to  insert  any  extracts  from 
them.    Tliey  modestly  show  how  the  man  was  valued,  and  the  poet 


1641.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  471 

caressed  ;  ihc  literarj'  of  all  ranks  extended  to  him  the  right  hand 
of  fellowship,  and  he  was  considered  a  wclconne  visitor  at  the  houses 
of  the  first  nobility.  His  modesty  is  beautifully  and  strongly  ex- 
hibited in  the  fact,  that  upon  his  return  from  these  visits  he  would 
resume  lii.s  usual  clerical  duties  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  inter- 
rupt their  regularity  ;  and  his  own  children  had  no  idea  how  much 
attention  was  paid  to  him  until  these  journals  came  to  light  after 
his  decease. 

In  .Tune,  1819,  the  "Tales  of  the  Hall"  were  published.  The 
original  name  which  the  poet  intended  for  this  production  was, 
"  Remembrances."  For  the  "  Tales  of  the  Hall,"  and  the  copy- 
right of  all  his  previous  poems,  the  celebrated  London  publisher, 
Mr.  Murray,  gave  him  the  generous  sum  of  three  thousand  pounds. 

From  1822,  to  his  death  in  1S31,  the  tic-doloreux,  a  disease 
which  had  been  for  some  time  previously  very  troublesome  to  him, 
increased  in  the  frequency  of  its  visits  and  the  pain  it  produced. 
But  Crabbe's  old  age  was  not  one  of  ])eevishiiess ;  he  was  no 
burden  to  his  friends.  The  sweetness  of  his  disposition  seemed  to 
exhibit  itself  more  plainly  as  his  life's  sun  descended,  and  the 
unanimous  record  of  all  who  saw  him  in  his  green,  fresh  old  age, 
is,  that  tlie  remembrance  of  him  is  the  picture  of  a  sage's  \Yisdom, 
sweetly  blending  with  childliood's  innocent  simplicity.  With  liis 
children  around  him,  having  discharged  his  ministerial  obligations 
to  the  church ;  having  inscribed  his  name  in  a  prominent  place  in 
fame's  temple  ;  having  enjoyed  the  respect  of  the  world,  and  the 
love  of  a  large  circle  of  friends,  leaving  behind  him  the  sweet  savor 
of  an  industrious  and  pious  life,  with  the  strong  confidence  of  a 
Christian's  hope,  he  glided  into  eternity  on  the  3d  of  February, 
1832,  in  the  seventy-eighth  year  of  his  age. 

This,  then,  was  the  career  of  the  "  poet  of  the  poor ;"  his  birth 
was  humble  and  obscure  ;  his  boyhood  studious,  yet  unpromising ; 
his  youth  gloomy  and  miserable  ;  his  manhood  dignified  and  happy ; 
his  old  age  honored  and  loved  :  his  life  was  active,  liis  death  was 
peaceful. 

[To  be  concluded  in  the  next  number.] 


472  Critical  Notices.  [July, 

Art.  VIIL-CRITICAL   NOTICES. 

1.  Mcmonah  of  Smith  Africa.  By  Bakxahas  Shaw,  Wcsleyan  Mis- 
sionary, resident  in  the  countrv  nearly  twenty  years.  I'imo.,  pp. 
317.  'New-York  :  piiblislied  by  G.  Lane  &  P.  P.  Saudford.  1841. 
This  volume  is  itself  an  argument  in  favor  of  missionary  eflbrts 

wliich  cannot  be  successfully  controverted.  It  contains  a  history  of  the 
beginning  and  the  progress  of  the  efforts  of  the  Wesleyan  Methodist 
Missionary  Society  in  Southern  Africa  ;  and  as  a  collection  of  inte- 
resting incidents,  exceeds  any  thing  we  have  met  with  for  a  long 
time.  Mr.  Shaw  in  general  speaks  of  what  came  under  his  own  per- 
sonal observation.  His  story  is  concerned  with  facts  and  not  fiction, 
and  witli  us  this  circumstance  does  not  diminish  the  interest  of  the 
details.  There  is  much  in  the  work  that  is  instructive,  some  things 
which  are  anuising ;  but,  as  a  whole,  it  is  an  exhibition  of  the  power  of 
the  gospel  to  tame  and  reclaim  barbarous  men,  and  to  restore  the  most 
dcgraik-d  human  beings  to  the  practice  of  pure  religion  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  its  blessed  hopes.  There  is  in  the  style  of  the  writer  an 
elegant  simplicity  and  a  suitableness  to  the  subject  upon  which  he 
writes,  wliicli  is  an  exhibition  of  great  judgment  and  a  good  literary 
taste.  We  cannot  attenij)t  an  adequate  description  of  the  work,  but 
would  most  earnestly  recommend  the  reader  to  procure  and  read  it 
for  himself,  being  certain  that  he  will  consider  himself  amply  rewarded 
for  his  pains. 

2.  Scripture  Views  of  the  Heavenly  World.  By  J.  Edjiondson,  A.  M., 
18mo.,  pp.251.  New-York:  published  by  G.  Lane  &  P.  P.  Sand- 
ford.   18-11. 

This  manual  is  upon  a  subject  at  all  limes  most  welcome  to  the 
heart  of  the  pious.  This  world  is  not  our  home,  and  the  good  rejoice 
that  it  is  not :  they  "  would  not  live  always"  here.  Yet  they  are  com- 
pelled to  take  a  part  in  the  interests  of  the  present  world  while  they 
live  in  it,  and  they  engage  in  many  interesting  duties,  and  form  very 
pleasant  associations.  Sometimes  we  are  in  danger  of  making  too 
much  of  ilie  v.orld,  and  at  otlicrs  of  falling  into  uncomfortable  vexations 
from  its  changes  and  disappointments.  Under  these  circumstances, 
especially,  it  is  important  that  our  minds  should  be  directed  to  our 
eternal  rest.  How  many,  just  now,  stand  in  need  of  a  remembrancer 
to  direct  their  attention  and  afl'ections  to  the  heavenly  world.  They 
may  be  too  deeply  in  love  with  earth.  The  most  excellent  work 
which  we  have  before  us  will  admonish  them  not  to  rest  here,  but  to 
act  as  pilgrims  seeking  a  oily  out  of  sight.    They  may  be  embarrassed 


1841.]  Critical  Notices.  473 

in  their  temporal  circumstances ;  here  they  will  be  pointed  to  a 
sovereign  remedy.  Heaven  is  a  treasure  that  never  fails.  Let  them 
lay  up  their  interest  there,  and  it  will  be  for  ever  secure.  Earthly  joys 
are,  at  best,  imperfect,  and  mixed  with  sorrow,  but  the  bliss  of  heaven 
is  without  alloy.  Heaven  is  a  place  of  perfect  hohucss.  0,  to  be 
absorbed  in  God !  what  a  glorious  consummation !  There  is  no  sor- 
row-, no  night,  no  war,  no  death  in  heaven  !  O  glorious  place !  the 
home  of  the  wanderer — of  the  banished  !  How  worthy  of  our  constant 
and  devout  meditation  ! 

This  blessed  subject  is  discussed  in  the  volume  we  now  commend 
to  the  attention  of  our  readers  in  a  clear  and  interesting  manner.  The 
writer  has  evidently  thought  mucli  upon  tlie  subject,  and  become 
baptized  with  its  spirit.  For  those  who  may  wish  to  form  a  correct 
estimate  of  the  comparative  value  of  earth  and  heaven,  or  may  desire 
to  have  their  afl'ections  elevated  to  that  blessed  world,  or  may  wish  for 
comfort  imder  bereavements,  this  little  volume  will  constitute  a  most 
agreeable  and  profitable  companion. 


3.  A  Treatise  on  the  Scriptural  Doctrine  of  Justification.      By  the  Rev. 

Edw.mid   Hare.     18mo.,    pp.  253.     New-Yoik:    published  by  G. 

Lane  &  P.  P.  Sandford.   1841. 

The  doctrine  oi justification  by  faitli  alone  is  a  funJamcutal  doctrine 
of  the  gospel.  And,  hence,  without  a  clear  understanding  of  its  nature 
there  can  be  no  adequate  notions  of  the  plan  of  salvation  instituted  by 
Christ.  Important  and  essential  to  salvation  as  this  doctrine  is,  and 
clearly  as  it  is  set  forth  in  the  New  Testament,  especially  by  St.  Paul, 
partial  and  erroneous  views  of  it  have  been  entertained  and  ])ropagatcd 
jjy  professed  Christians  in  all  ages  of  the  church.  The  school  of  St. 
Augustine  and  Calvin  hold  to  justification  by  the  imputed  righteousness 
of  Christ,  or  by  making  over  to  the  sinner  Christ's  active  obedience  : 
the  Oxford  Tractarians,  after  the  Romanists,  maintain  that  the  sinner 
is  justified  because  he  is  first  made  inherently  righteous  or  holy  ;  and 
the  Soeinian  thinks  men  entitled  to  be  considered  righteous  because, 
in  fact,  they  were  never  otherwise!  But  the  true  Scripture  doctrine  is 
at  an  equal  distance  from  all  these  erroneous  dogmas.  This  doctrine 
is,  that  the  sinner  is  justified  through  the  atoning  merits  of  Christ, 
and  hy  faith  alone,  without  the  works  of  the  law.  Amidst  the  grief 
inllicted  by  the  tide  of  error  upon  this  great  doctrine,  which  has 
recently  been  flooding  Great  Britain  and  this  country,  it  is  refreshing 
to  meet  with  such  a  book  as  the  one  before  us.  Here  every  thing  is 
plain,  and  exactly  suited  to  our  wants.     Mr.  Hare  stands  at  an  infinite 


474  Critical  Notices.  [July. 

distance  from  all  mysticisiu  and  legalism.  The  great  excellaace  of  Itis 
work  is,  that  it  rests  ujion  Scripture.  The  anthor  does  not  first  give 
lis  a  theory,  and  then  lalior  to  make  the  Bible  prove  it;  but  he  gives  us 
numerous  passages,  at  length,  which  treat,  of  set  purpose,  upon  this 
specific  doctrine,  and  then  gives  us  the  results  of  a  common  sense  ex- 
position and  comparison  of  these  passages.  This  is  indeed  the  only 
way  to  arrive  at  truth  in  the  discussion  of  any  Christian  doctrine.  And 
if  theologians  had  more  generally  adhered  lo  this  course,  it  had  been 
better  for  the  church  and  the  world.  The  inquiry  should  always  be, 
"  What  sailh  the  Scriptures  ?"  and  not  what  ought  they  to  say. 

The  style  of  the  writer  is  pure,  perspicuous,  and  forcible.  His  de- 
finitions are  short  and  yet  sufficiently  full.  His  reasoning  is  always 
to  the  point,  and  never  cither  tame  or  vague  and  inconclusive.  His 
deductions  come  right  home  to  our  common  sense  and  our  enlightened 
faith,  and  are  to  the  mind  of  an  unbiased,  unsophisticated  Christian, 
entirely  satisfactory. 

We  cannot  doubt  but  this  little  manual  conies  from  our  press  just 
at  this  time  most  appropriately,  and  we  believe  it  will  do  much  good 
should  it  meet  with  an  extensive  circulation.  We  commend  the  work 
cspcci;i!ly  lo  young  Christians,  and  young  ministers. 


4.  An  Inquiry  into  the  Constitution,  Discipline,  Unity,  and  Worship  of 
the  Pnimtivc  Church,  that  Jlourishrd  within  the  first  three  hundred 
Years  after  Christ.  Faithfully  collected  out  of  tJiC  extant  Wntincrs 
of  those  Ages.  By  Sir  Peter  King,  Lord  High  Chancellor  of 
England.  With  a  Preface  by  the  Editor.  12mo.,  pp.  300.  New- 
York ;  published  by  G.  Lane  &  P.  P.  Sandford.    IS-U. 

Tilt;  work  now  presented  to  the  public  in  a  new  dress  has 
been  considered  by  many  of  the  most  learned  divines  not  only  as  a 
rare  exhibition  of  patient  and  impartial  investigation,  but,  in  its  leading 
facts,  a  true  representation  of  the  government  and  usages  of  the  primi- 
tive church.  But  it  is  rendered  especially  interesting  to  the  Methodists 
as  the  instrument  of  breaking  down  the  high  church  prejudices  of  Mr. 
John  Wesley,  and  so  of  preparing  the  way  for  the  distinct  organization 
of  the  Methodist  llpiscopal  Church  in  the  United  States. 

In  his  Journal  for  January  20,  1746,  Mr.  Wesley  says,  "  I  set  out 
for  Bristol.  On  the  road  I  read  over  Lord  King's  account  of  the 
primitive  church.  In  .spite  of  the  vehement  prejudice  of  ray  education, 
I  was  ready  to  believe  that  his  was  a  fair  and  impartial  draught ;  but 
if  so,  it  would  follow  that  bishops  and  presbyters  are  (essentially)  of 


18-11.]  Critical  Notices.  475 

one  order ;  and  that,  originally,  every  Christian  congregation  was  a 
church  independent  on  all  others." 

Thirty-eight  years  after  the  above  was  written,  in  his  letter  "  to  Dr. 
Coke,  Mr.  Asbury,  and  the  brethren  in  North  America,"  dated  Bristol, 
September  10,  1784,  Mr.  Wesley  says,  "Lord  King's  account  of  the 
primitive  church  convinced  me,  many  years  ago,  that  bishops  and 
presbyters  are  the  same  order,  and  consequentU^  have  the  same  right 
to  ordain.  For  many  years  I  have  been  importuned  from  time  to  time 
to  exercise  this  right,  by  ordaining  part  of  our  traveling  preachers. 
But  I  have  still  refused,  not  only  for  peace'  sake,  but  because  1  Avas 
determined,  as  little  as  possible,  to  violate  the  established  order  of  the 
national  Church  to  which  I  belonged." 

Our  venerated  founder  was  thoroughly  read  in  the  history  and  monu- 
ments of  the  primitive  church,  and  perfectly  intimate  with  the  writings 
of  the  fathers,  upon  which  the  conclusions  of  Lord  King  arc  founded. 
And  that  such  a  mind — one  so  well  stored  with  classical  learning  and 
the  records  of  antiquity — should  be  so  affected  by  a  perusal  of  this 
book,  is  certainly  not  a  liitle  in  favor  both  of  its  facts  and  reasoning. 

It  must  however  be  borne  in  mind,  that  Mr.  Wesley  called  no  man 
father  upon  earth ;  and,  in  several  instances,  in  the  organization  of  the 
connection,  he  departed  from  what  Lord  King  supposes  the  primitive 
practice.  In  one  point,  (and  that  is  a  very  important  one,)  IMr.  Wes- 
ley's system  is  more  strictly  apostolic  than  the  draught  of  the  "  Primitive 
Church"  by  our  author.  We  refer  to  the  conncctional  principle,  acting 
through  a  general  itinerant  supcrintendency.  Upon  this  point  our  author 
is  not  so  satisfactory,  and  incautious  readers  need  to  be  put  on  their 
guard. 

When  he  asserts  that  there  was  "  but  one  bishop  in  a  church,"  his 
meaning  must  bo  restricted  to  those  primitive  churches  or  congregations 
in  populous  places  which  assembled  in  "  one  place."  These  churches 
expanded  until  it  became  necessary  to  divide  and  subdivide  them,  and 
so  the  appropriate  officers  were  multiplied  to  meet  the  emergency. 
There  were  certainly  several  sttwko-ol,  bishops,  in  the  church  of  Ephesus 
in  the  apostles  days.  (See  Acts  xx,  17,  28.)  Bishops  in  primitive 
times  were  properly  pastors ;  and  as  their  age  or  eminent  holiness  en- 
titled them  to  more  than  ordinary  respect,  for  the  edification  of  the 
body,  they  were  by  general  consent  invested  with  a  jurisdiction  over 
the  ordinary  pastors  and  their  flocks ;  but  this  did  not  constitute  them 
a  elifl'ercnt  orckr  from  that  of  presbyter. 

In  the  present  edition  the  original  is  sfrirtly  followed,  except  in  the 
orthography  of  some  words,  and  a  sketch  of  the  author's  life  is  given 
from  a  late  London  edition.  All  the  original  references  are  retained, 
and  thus  the  excellences  of  several  previous  editions  are  preserved  with- 


476  Critical  Notices.  [July, 

out  their  defects.  This,  we  believe  is  the  first  American  edition  of  this 
■work,  and  as  it  throws  much  light  upon  subjccl.s  which  at  present  are 
considerably  agitated  in  tliis  country,  wc  presume  the  publisher,  and 
the  book  committee  who  recommended  its  republication,  will  have  the 
thanks  of  an  enlightened  public  for  putting  it  into  their  hands  in  its 
present  form. 


5.  A  Hiftonj  ofthr  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.     By  N.  B.\xgs,  D.  D. 
.  Vol.  IV.  "  From  1838  to  1810.     12mo.,  pp.  Aqq.  '  New-York:  pub- 
lished by  G.  Lane  &  P.  P.  Sandford.  1841. 

This  volume  brings  down  Dr.  Bangs'  history  to  the  present  time. 
The  preceding  volumes  have  been  before  the  public  so  long  tliat  their 
character  and  merits  are  generally  understood  ;  and  it  may  be  pre- 
sumed that  it  will  be  a  sufllcient  recommendation  to  the  one  now 
noticed  to  say,  that  there  is  no  falling  off,  either  in  the  interest  of  its 
facts  or  its  execution.  The  world,  but  more  particularly  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  have  great  cause  to  be  grateful  to  the  author  for 
rescuing  from  oblivion  the  material  facts  connected  with  our  history  as 
a  church.  It  would  be  marvelous  indeed  if  there  should  be  found  in 
those  volumes  nothing  to  correct,  as  the  facts  they  detail  are  so  nume- 
rous, and  are  o;iiliercd  from  such  a  mass  of  undigested  materials.  But 
there  can  be  no  duulit  but  these  volumes  will  be  highly  estimated 
and  read  with  iuttrest  long  after  their  author  shall  have  gone  to  his 
reward. 

Lee's  History  of  the  Methodists,  long  since  out  of  print,  is  now 
sought  as  high  antliorit)-  upon  man}-  points,  merely  because  the  author 
wrote  of  his  own  times,  and  recorded  many  important  events  which 
came  under  his  own  observation.  It  will  not  be  long  before  the  same 
reason  will  give  additional  interest  to  the  history  before  us. 

Few  are  acquainted  with  the  difficulty  of  executing  a  work  of  this 
character.  Considering  the  number  of  books  and  records  which  he  has 
been  obliged  to  read,  and  thoroughly  examine,  it  is  indeed  marvelous 
that  the  author,  with  all  his  characteristic  industry,  has  succeeded  in 
bringin<j  his  work  to  such  a  state  of  perfection.  Every  Methodist,  and 
especially  every  Methodist  preacher,  should  give  this  work  a  place  in 
his  librarv. 


I 


G.    The  Life  of  l!ic  Rrv.  John  Emory,  D.  D.,  one  of  the  Bishops  of  the 
Methodist  'Episrnpol  Chirch.     By  his    eldest  Son.     8vo.,   pp.   380. 
New- York:  published  by  George  Lane.  1811. 
In  the  department  of  biography  we,  in  America,  have,  so  far,   fallen 

much  behind  our  Britisli  brethren.     With  the  V/csleyans,  over  the 


1841.]  Critical  Notices.  477 

water,  the  lives  of  their  holy  men  arc  gathered  up  and  transmitted  to 
posterity  for  their  instruction.  But  we  often  sufler  ours  to  be  lost  to 
ilie  world  for  want  of  a  faithful  record  of  their  great  virtues  and  emi- 
nent usefulness.  Whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  this  apparent  neglect, 
vhelher  the  diliiculty  of  the  task  of  collecting  materials,  or  the  want  of 
suitable  encouragement,  we  are  certain  it  is  not  for  the  want  of  respect 
for  the  memory  of  our  departed  fathers  and  brethren. 

We  are  happy,  however,  to  see  indications  of  an  improvement  in 
this  respect.  The  Life  of  Bishop  Emory  is  a  cheering  specimen  of 
•what  can  be  done  in  this  department  by  persevering  industry.  If  we 
shall  have,  as  we  confidently  hope,  following  this  most  interesting 
biography,  a  life  of  Bishop  Asbury,  one  of  Bishop  JM'Kendrec,  and  one 
of  Dr.  Fisk,  executed  in  a  manner  worthy  of  these  eminent  servants 
of  God,  we  may  then  begin  to  look  up,  and  congratulate  ourselves  that 
we  have  done  much  toward  wiping  away  a  reproach  which  has,  up  to 
this  time,  rested  upon  this  branch  of  our  literature. 

Dr.  .lohnson  says,  every  life  has  enough  in  it  of  interest  to  be  worth 
preserving  from  oblivioTL  If  this  be  true,  what  a  mine  of  precious 
materials  have  v,-o  in  the  lives  of  our  holy  and  self-sacrificing  fathers 
and  brethren  !  Now,  shall  these  materials  be  wrought  out  and  made 
permanently  tangible  and  useful,  or  shall  they  be  consigned  to  oblivion? 

It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  say  any  thing  to  excite  high  expecta- 
tions in  relation  to  the  work  here  noticed.  The  subject  was  one  of 
our  first  and  best ;  and  the  author  is  favorably  known  to  the  public. 
The  high  expectations  already  raised  in  the  public  mind,  we  have  no 
doubt  will  be  fully  realized.  The  selection  and  arrangement  of  the 
facts,  the  slyle  of  the  composition,  and  the  elaborate  discussion  of  many 
deeply  interesting  and  dilficult  topics  connected  with  the  history  and 
government  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  all  show  a  grade  of 
literary  taste,  a  power  of  discriniination,  and  a  comprehensiveness  of 
view  every  way  worthy  of  the  son  of  Bishop  Einory. 

It  will  be  seen  and  felt  by  all  that  the  author  had  a  very  delicate 
task  to  execute.  He  had  to  present  the  character  of  his  revered  and 
much-loved /<i.'7(fr.  How  he  could  divest  himself  of  undue  partialities 
for  the  subject  of  his  narrative,  is  a  question  of  difficult  solution.  We 
knew  the  bishop  well,  and,  perhaps,  we  might  say,  inlimatcly  ;  and  the 
graphic  and  striking  picture  hero  presented  of  his  shining  qualities- 
it  is  presumed  will  not,  by  those  who  were  best  acquainted  with  him,  be 
considered  as  too  highly  coloured.  But  we  nmst,  after  this  brief 
notice,  leave  the  reader  to  judge  for  himself.  We  have  no  doubt  but 
the  Life  of  Bishop  Emory  will  take  a  high  rank  among  works  of  tho 
class. 


478  Critical  Notices.  [July, 


7.  Dclincaiion  of  Roman  Catholicism,  drawn  from  the  authentic  and  ac- 
knowledged Standards  of  the  Church  of  Rome ;  namely,  her  Creeds, 
Catechisms,  Decisions  if  Councils,  Papal  Dulls,  Roman  Catholic 
Writers,  the  Records  of  History,  etc.,  etc. :  in  vihich  the  Peculiar 
Doctrines,  .Morals,  Covcrnm'Vit,  and  Usages  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
are  stated,  treated  at  large,  and  confuted.  By  Hev.  Charles  Elliott, 
D.  D.  Vol.  1,  8vo.,  pp.  492.  New-York:  published  b}'  George 
Lane.    1841. 

Romanism  is  at  iho  present  time  a  subject  of  deep  interest  to  this 
country.  It  is  so  natural  and  almost  necessary  for  this  specie;  of 
heresy  to  hold  a  political  bearing,  that  the  politician  is  compelled  to 
notice  its  niovcineiiis  and  leading  positions  in  relation  to  groat 
political  rpicstions.  "W'haU'Aer  are  the  professions  of  Romanists,  the 
designs  of  their  ])rii'sthood  most  obviously  are  to  work  themselves  into 
power,  and  to  exercise  an  undue  influence  in  civil  matters.  As  men, 
we  would  rc.^]ioct  them  according  to  their  individual,  intellectual,  and 
moral  worth;  as  strangers  nnd  foreigners,  (for  such  most  of  them  are,) 
we  would  treat  them  with  kindness  ;  hut  as  politicians  and  Christians, 
wa  should  adiiiinisiiT  to  llnin  a  wholesome  rebuke  whenever  we  con- 
ceive it  iK^essaiy  fur  their  correction  or  the  public  safety.  Their  in- 
fluence we  siiDuM  not  coii.-.ider  as  materially  dangerous  to  our  institu- 
tions, were  it  not  that  the  mass  always  move  together,  and  move  in 
obedience  lo  the  v.iU  of  the  jirieslhood.  But  under  c'xisting  circum- 
stances we  can  but  regard  their  increasing  sti^ength  and  influence, 
whether  tlirougli  i migraiion  or  proselytism,  as  eminently  dangerous 
to  our  free  insiitulions. 

But  will  this  view  suggest  an)'  persecuting  or  proscriptivc  measures  ? 
Not  at  all.  iXolliing  is  necessary  but  to  look  to  their  movements,  and 
investigate  the  features  and  bearings  of  their -system.  This  is  all  wo 
can  do — all  wc  oit^lu  to  do.  If,  as  we  suppose,  they  are  in  error,  does 
this  alienate  their  claims  upon  our  justice  and  our  sympathies  ?  In  no 
wise.  They  are  slill  our  brethren,  and  are  entitled  to  be  treated  as 
such.  But  when  ihry  come  forward  and  tell  us,  as  the  bishop  of  this 
city  has  done,  that  ttiry  eaunot  conscientiously  participate  in  the  public 
provisions  for  llie  educali(m  of  the  rising  generation,  until  wc  shall 
giee  them  Ike  control  of  the  books  and  the  course  of  instruction,  in  our 
public  seliools,  or  at  least  shall  exclude  the  Holy  Scriptures,  it  is  time 
for  us  to  pause. 

But  we  nuisl  not  go  into  this  argument  in  a  mere  notice  of  a  book. 
The  volume,  whose  title  is  at  the  liead  of  this  article,  is  a  discussion  of 
the  histon/  and  thrntogy  of  Ivomanism — its  consistency  with  the  Scrip- 
tures, V  iib  common  sense,  and  with  itself.  A\'cighed  in  these  balances 
the  system  is  "  foinid  v.anling."  To  avoid  this  test  the  Romanists 
repudiate  reason,  ermeeal  from  the  popidar  eye  the  book  of  divine 
revelation,  and  iniibTivnr  to  elude  scrutiny.  But  our  author  follows 
them  in  all  their  lurking  plai-es,  and  tears  ofi"  the  veil  from  the  mystery 
of  iniquity. 

The  work  is  cue  of  vast  labor  and  of  diligent  research.     Dr.  Elliott 


1 84 1 .]  CHtical  Notices.  479 

luis  spent  upon  it  the  toil  of  years,  and  lias  gone  to  the  original  sources 
of  information.  We  here  see  what  Rom;inism  is,  how  it  is  defended 
by  its  advocates,  and  how  it  conflicts  with  truth  and  the  best  in- 
terests of  man.  Among  the  many  modern  works  upon  this  subject 
which  have  come  under  our  notice,  we  have  seen  none  which  exhibits 
an  equal  amount  of  deep  and  original  investigation. 

The  style  of  this  work  will  often  be  found  defective  in  point  of 
euphony,  and  sometimes  as  to  grammatical  construction  and  arrange- 
ment, but  seldom,  if  ever,  in  point  of  perspicuity  and  force. 

The  references  to  antiquated  and  rare  works  which  are  brought  into 
the  margin,  will  be  valuable,  particularly  to  such  as  wish  to  go  into  an 
original  investigation  of  the  subject  and  have  not  the  works  at  hand 
upon  wliich  our  author  has  levied  his  contributions.  Another  great 
excellence  of  this  work  is,  its  copious  index.  Here  in  a  few  minutes 
the  reader  can  take  a  consecutive  view  of  the  whole  work,  and  he  can 
never  be  at  a  loss  as  to  tlie  page  where  any  particular  topic  or  autho- 
rity is  to  be  foiuid.  "W'e  crave  for  this  work  a  fair  and  impartial 
readinjr. 


8.  A  Classical  Dictionary^  containing  an  Account  of  the  principal  Proper 
Names  mentioned  in  Ancient  Authors,  and  intended  to  elucidate  all  the 
important  Points  connected  with  the  Geography,  History,  Biography, 
Mythology,  and  Fine  Arts  of  the  Greeks  and  Rojnans,  together  with  an 
Account  of  Coins,  Weights,  and  Measures,  with  Tabular  Values  of  the 
same.  By  Ch.iri^es  Antho.n,  LL.D.  New-York:  Harper  and 
Brothers,  pp.  1423. 

We  have  experienced  gi'eat  satisfaction  in  tlie  examination  of  Dr. 
Anlhon's  new  Classical  Dictionary,  and  had  intended  to  notice  it  at 
some  length  in  our  present  number;  but  this  we  are  obliged,  by  the 
prior  claims  of  other  matter,  to  postpone  until  our  next.  At  pre- 
sent, therefore,  we  can  only  state  generally,  and  in  a  very  (c,\v  words, 
what  are  our  impressions  in  regard  to  this  important  work.  Of  its 
great  supcriorit)'-  to  the  dictionary  of  Jjcmpricre,  not  excepting  the 
latest  and  most  improved  editions  of  the  latter,  there  can,  we  think,  be 
no  doubt.  Its  articles  are  both  more  numerous  and  more  fullv  treated, 
its  criticisms  more  learned  and  exact,  its  authorities  more  coinplete, 
and  its  style  more  uniformly  correct  and  finished.  Entire  jiurity  of 
thought  and  language  pervades  the  work,  and  nothing  is  met  with  that 
can  oflend  the  most  sensitive  delicacy.  Our  knowledge  in  regard  to 
ancient  geography,  &c.,  has  been  greatly  enlarged  by  the  researches 
of  modern  travelers,  and  the  learned  author  has  enriched  his  pages 
with  a  vast  amount  of  most  interesting  and  valuable  information  ob- 
tained from  these  sources.  From  his  familiarity,  also,  with  the  lan- 
guage and  literature  of  Ciermany,  he  has  been  enabled  to  consult,  with 
great  advantage,  the  best  authors  of  that  country.  In  short,  he  has 
.spared  no  pains  to  reiulor  his  work  complete.  We  are  much  gratified 
to  learn  that  the  publishers  are  about  issuing  a  second  edition. 


480  Critical  A'oliccs.  [July, 

9.  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  Europe  in  the  Fifteenth,   Sixteenth,  J 

and  Seventeenth  Centuries.     By  IlExnY  Hallam,  "F.R.S.A.     2  vols.,  3 

8vo.    New-York:  llurper  &  Brothers.  k 

We  arc   gratifinl  to  see  this  very  interesting  and  able  work  made  : 

accessil)li'  to  the   American  reader.     The  high  encomiums  bestowed  ; 

upon  it  bv  the  Jlnulish  press,  and  the   character  of  its  distinguished  J 

author's  prc\ious  juilihcations,  liad  prepared  us  to  expect  a  rich  intel-  , 

lectual  treat  ;  unr  liave  we  been  disappointed.     As  a  polished  writer  • 

]\lr.  Halhiin   li:is   lew  e(|uals  ;  h\\\  it  is  not  the  beauties  of  his   style,  j 

striking  as  llicv  are,  that  we  so  much  regard,  as  the  value  of  his  fuels,  | 

and  the  depth  and  originality  of  thought  so  conspicuous  in  his  prodiic-  I 

lions,  giving  eviileuce  not  only  of  a  great  mind,  but  of  patient  and  | 

laborious  research,  which,  in  tliese  times  of  action  rather  than  of  study,  ; 

even  great  minds  too  much  neglect.  J 

The  author's  object  in  this  work  is  to  give  such  an  account  of  the  \ 

rise  and  progress  of  modern  learning,  that  the  reader  may  have  pre-  \ 

sented  before  him  a  connected  view  of  all  that  is  most  interesting  in  \ 

relation   tu   it — the   various  circumstances  and  events,  whether  of  a  \ 

social,  political,  or  religious  nature,  thnt  were  favorable  or  unfavorable  | 

10  its  advance  ;  llie  inlluence  of  tlie  cultivation  of  letters  in  meliorating  | 

the  condition  of  so -iiiy  ;  the  distinguished  men  who,  by  their  intellect-  j 

ual  labors  in  the  dilTereul  departments  of  literature  and  science,  have  \ 

most  largely  c  nniributed  to  their  improvement ;  the   most  remarkable  1 

literary  and  scieniilic  j)roduciioiis,  and,  in  short,  all  such  matters  as  1 

directly  belong  to,  or  remotely  bear  upon,  tliis  interesting  and  important  \ 

subject.     The  jieriod  embraced  in  Air.  Ilallam's  history  is  in  its  reli-  | 

gious  as  well  as  literary  aspects  the  most  important  in  the  annals  of  ? 

mankind.     It  is  the  period  of  the  I'rotcstant  Reformation — that  great  ' 

revolution  v,  Inch  elVected  the  downfall  of  superstition,  corruption,  and 
error,  and  reslund  to  the  human  mind  its  liberty,  to  conscience  its 
rights,  and  to  religion  its  ]irisline  simplicity  and  pin'ity. 

The  progres-;  of  h-arning  in  these  centuries  was  so  identified  with 
that  of  the  KefoiniatiM;;,  that  the  two  must  necessarily  be  considered  in 
their  connectio]!  with  each  other.  Hence  Mr.  Hallam's  volumes  should 
be  studied  by  all  who  fel  a  united  interest  in  the  spread  of  pure  Chris- 
tianity and  of  soimd  learning  ;  and  to  no  class  of  readers  will  they 
prove  more  valualjle  than  to  ministers. 


10.  A  Comjirndius  Eeclesiastical  History  from  the  earliest  period  to  the 
present  time.  By  the  Rev.  William  Palmf-r,  A.  M.,  of  Worcester 
College,  O.xford,  author  of  Origines  Liturgies,  &e.,  &e.  With  a 
Preface  and  Notes,  by  an  American  Editor.  12mo.,  pp.232.  New- 
York:   Swords,  Stanford,  &.  Co.   1841. 

The  department  of  ecclesiastical  history  is  likely  still  to  be  vexed 
by  partizan  writers.  It  is  indeed  to  be  lamented,  that  a  liistorian  of  the 
church  cannot  make  such  citations  from  the  mass  of  facts,  which  has 


1841.]  Critical  Nvl ices.  481 

survived  the  ravages  of  time,  as  to  leave  a  correct  general  impression. 
]5iil  when  men  iinclerlakc  these  investigations  for  the  purpose  of  fmding 
in  the  primitive  churcli  the  type  of  their  own  peculiar  creed  and  form 
of  discipline,  their  views  are  necessarily  partial,  and  the  general 
results  at  which  they  arrive  doubtful. 

The  American  editor  of  the  work  before  us  (understood  lo  be  the 
bishop  of  the  diocese  of  Maryland)  gives  us  what  he  conceives  the 
real  character  and  the  best  recommendation  of  "the  work  in  these 
words  : — 

"  The  Scriptural  catalogue  of  '  fruits  of  the  Spirit,'  is  his  test  of 
that  Sjiiril's  jiresence,  not  any  human  scheme  of  doctrine.  The  bond 
of  union,  by  which  he  traces  Christian  failh  and  holiness  up  to  their 
source  in  Christ,  is  a  real  and  tangible  bond  of  ordinances  and  institu- 
tions, not  the  figmentary  connection  of  agreement  in  certain  arbitrary 
views." 

This  "  real  tangible  bond  of  ordinances  and  institutions,"  is  what 
the  author  has  piincijially  labored  to  bring  out  from  the  rubbish,  lie 
first  provides,  as  matter  of  course,  for  a  regular  and  undoubted  suc- 
rrs.sion  of  diocesan  bishops  from  Peter  and  Paul.  Then  ( A.  D.  1 78-250) 
lie  lets  us  know  (with  as  much  confidence  as  he  could  had  he  lived  in 
those  times)  of  "  god  fathers."  Next  he  finds  "  confirmation,"  though 
anciently  it  "  was  gcnerallv  administered  soon  after  baptism."  He 
l)resenily  finds  "creeds"  and  '"liturgies."  And  anon  he  tells  us  that 
"  those  who  committed  great  sins  in  secret  were  recommended  to 
disclose  their  guilt  to  discreet  and  judicious  ministers  of  God,  and 
receive  from  them  directions  for  the  course  of  private  penitence 
which  they  ought  to  pursue."  It  is  no  marvel  that  he  next  finds  his 
"  fruits  of  the  Spirit"  in  the  "  ascetics  and  sacred  virgins."  Here  he 
expatiates  upon  the  "  character  of  ascetic  religion  in  the  early  church;" 
and  gives  us  ample  illustrations  of  the  subject  from  the  lives  and  self- 
denial  of  "St.  Anthony,"  "  St.  Martin,"  Sec,  S:c.  Through  what  is 
commonly  called  "  the  dark  ages,"  he  can  find  in  tlic  "  monasteries"  an 
abundance  of  the  true  "  fruits  of  the  Spirit,"  and  brings  down  "  the 
succession"  in  all  its  beauty  and  freshness  to  the  period  of  the  Re- 
formation. 

Some  of  the  reformers,  perhapson  accountof  their  ultra-protestantism, 
get  from  our  author  rather  faint  praise.  WicklifTc,  Jerome  of  Prague,  and 
John  IIuss,  he  dispatches  in  a  few  lines.  They  had  indeed  "  declared 
against  the  popes,  and  against  several  abuses,"  "  but  their  opinions 
were  mingled  with  much  that  was  exceptionable."  But  we  have  not 
space  to  t  iilarge.  The  "  American  editor"  has  fairly  shown  his  doc- 
trinal tendencies  in  his  "  preface  and  notes,"  and  what  is  the  "  tangi- 
ble bond  of  ordinances  and  institutions,"  which  he  considers  essential 
to  the  existence  and  integrity  of  the  true  church.  The  object  of  this 
work  is  no  doubt  to  illuniinalo  the  popular  mind  upon  "  the  Scriptural 
catalogue"  and  the  "  tangible  bond  of  ordinances,"  according  to  Oxford- 
ism,  alias  TJomrtn?.?;;!.  But  he  does,  in  i3.c\,c\\uhi\.m\unscriptuTalcatalogue 
of  carnal  ordinances,  which  have  never  had  any  other  efioct  than  to  mar 
the  beautiful  features  of  Christianity,  and  to  destroy  its  legitimate  effects. 


482  Critical  Notices.  [July, 

11.  The  Antiquities  of  the  Christian  Church.  Translated  and  compiled  from 
the  ^Vorks  of  Aiis^usti,  tnlh  innnerous  Additions  from  Khicnwald,  ISicgat, 
and  others.  Dv  Hcv.  I,Yjr  an  Colkman.  8  vo.,  pp.  557.  Andovcr  :  Gould, 
Kewman,  &  Saxlon.     Nfu-Yorl;.    1841. 

The  antiquities  o!"  the  clinrcli  constitute  a  deqdy  interestingf  and  imj)ortaiit 
Buhjcct  of  invcsli;4;ilion.  lint  tlie  Holy  Scrijilures  being  the  only  ciite- 
rion  of  the  diviiic  ri>ilit  of  jmsitivo  in.stitution.s,  we  car,  of  course,  bind  upon 
no  man's  conscience  any  institution  or  usage  not  clearly  presented  in  the  Bible. 
Still,  the  usa^'ts  of  the  primitive  church,  which  nrc  not  in  opposition  to  the 
general  provi^ions  of  the  New  Testanaent,  arc  worthy  the  serious  consideration 
of  the  church  in  all  ages. 

This  sniiject  is  at  present  studied  with  deep  interest  and  great  diligence, 
p.sjiccially  in  JOurope.  And  the  influence  it  has  upon  the  Rouiish  aud  high 
chnrcli  controversy,  gives  it  a  high  degree  of  importance  in  this  country.  Those 
genlleiiiiui  who  "  dcl'cr  to  tradition,"  must  be  met  upon  tlicit  own  ground.  .And 
if  it  shall  appear,  as  upon  the  most  thorough  and  iiripartial  invcstignticni  it  cer- 
tainly will,  ih;j;  thi^y  are  not  supported  by  the  example  of  the  church  in  its 
earliest  and  purest  nces,  to  what  will  they  flee  next !  If  they  come  down  to 
later  ages,  tlicy  thru  labor  under  the  disadvantages  of  diminished  authority  and 
diversity  of  practice,  not  to  insist  that  superstition  and  corruption  had  changed 
many  of  the  onginal  features  of  the  church. 

The  u.Nr.L'rs  of  the  church,  through  several  successive  centuries,  are  care- 
fully and  dili^Tnily  collecU'd,  and  clearly  exhibited  in  the  volume  now  ujion  our 
table.  We  liave  hcie  the  results  of  the  labors  of  several  of  the  best  German 
schohirs,  nut  ineuinbtred  with  strong  sectarian  biases.  Upon  the  whole,  we 
are  sure  this  volume  will  be  highly  useful  to  the  student  of  ecclesiastical  anti- 
quities, and  we  most  cordially  thaiik  the  translator  and  compiler  for  his  labor. 


12.  Wcslci/an  Methodism,  considered  in  llclalion  to  tlic  Church;  to  trhieh  is 
subjoined  a  Plan  for  their  Union  and  more  effectual  Cc-ojieralion.  By  the 
Rev.  Kicii.Uio  lIoncsoN,  A.  M.,  Kveniiig  Lecturer  of  St.  Peter's,  Cornhill. 
Tnis  is  on  the  w  hole,  rather  a  curious  production,  especially  considering  the 
source  wh^:i'e  it  emanates.  It  is  from  a  minister  of  the  Establishment,  and  it 
proposes  a  union  between  the  Wesleyan  Methodists  in  Great  Britain  and  the 
Church  of  Kngland.  It  is  also  a  little  singular,  that  at  about  the  same  time 
this  proposition  came  from  a  distinguished  clergyman  of  that  church,  a  simdar 
one  should  be  made  by  a  bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  to  the 
Methodists  in  this  country,  ^\'helhe^  the  one  took  his  cue  from  the  other,  or 
whether  it  wa."  a  coincidence  arising  from  a  like  feeling  of  the  utility  of  the 
measure  pervading  the  breasts  of  these  two  eminent  men,  is  more  than  we  can 
Bay,  nor  is  it  a  iiialli  r  of  much  importance,  as  it  is  not  likely  to  succeed,  if  we 
niav  judije  fr.mi  the  tone  of  a  review  of  this  pamphlet  in  the  "Church  of 
England  Quarterly  IJevicw"  fur  April  last. 

In  this  It. view,  the  Wsleyans,  notwithstanding  the  writer  pours  the 
flattering  unction  upon  the  Methodists  with  an  unsparing  hand,  will  not  feel 
ihemsidves  very  highly  complimented.  Wesley,  though  no  heretic,  is  con- 
sidered a  stdusiiiatie,  liocause  he  established  societies  in  the  church,  and  orga- 
nized a  churi-li  in  the  United  States. 

The  lecturer  purposes  to  ordain  one  of  the  Wesleyan  ministers  a  bislinp. 
And  he  oven  nominates  the  man,  namely,  Dr.  Bunting,  thinking  that,  by  this 
measure,  the  oil  of  consecration  would  be  transmitteil,  jiure  from  all  adultera- 
tion, from  the  soft  hands  of  the  acebbishop  of  Canterbury  to  the  adopted  offspring, 
and  that  lience  would  spring  u])  a  race  of  legitimates  which  would  hereafter  bo 
recognized  as  lawlul  heirs  tu  the  succession.     This  is  a  mighty  stretch  of 


1841.]  Critical  Notices.  483 

charity,  and  would,  were  it  not  a  littlo  too  selfish,  cover  tlie  multitude  of 
canonical  sins  which  Wesley  and  his  followers  have  committed. 

Of  the  propriety  of  this  measure,  the  reviewer  has  strong  doubts.  These  are 
founded  upon  tlie  "  love  of  caste."  Were  tlic  Methodist  preachers  admitted  to 
orders,  they  would  be  exalted  to  an  equality  with  their  elder  brethren.  This, 
he  thinks,  would  never  do.  It  would,  notwitlistanding  the  purifying-  process  of 
consecration  by  a  true  legitimate  in  regular  succession  from  the  apostles,  cor- 
rupt the  blood;  yet  he  has  a  remedy.  What  is  it,  think  you,  gentle  reader'! 
Why,  he  proposes  to  introduce  a  now,  or  rather  to  revwe  an  ancient  order, 
which,  for  convenience,  he  calls  "  sub-deacons."  These  should  be  a  sort  of 
"  /ay  clergy,"  forming  a  connecting  link  between  the  lower  class,  the  "  shop 
keepers"  and  "  stock  jobbers,"  and  the  higher  classes,  and  between  the  "  high 
born,"  the  older  sons  of  the  church,  or,  in  other  words,  the  regular  clergy  of 
the  Establishment,  and  the  rabble.  This  is  a  luost  admirable  expedient,  and 
must  bo  quite  flattering  to  the  Wesleyans.  It  is  as  if  he  had  said,  'j'he  Method- 
ists may  have  the  privdcge  of  associating  with  our  servants  in  the  kitchen,  if 
they  will  consent  first  to  acknowledge  that  they  are  all  illegitimates,  and  then 
receive  absolution  for  their  crimes  by  an  approving  smile  from  the  lord  of 
the  mansion. 

To  what  does  all  this  amount  1  To  just  this,  and  no  more  :  God  has  owned 
and  blessed  the  Methodists  in  such  an  unparalleled  manner,  that  they  are  now 
the  largest  and  most  nourishing  denomination  in  tiie  Protestant  world.  If  we 
let  thcin  alone,  they  will  "  take  our  church  and  nation."  What  shall  wc  do  ] 
AVhy,  "  wo  will  entice  them."  They  shall  intermarry  with  us,  provided  we 
may  have  the  privilege  of  celebrating  the  nuptials,  and  tlien  they  shall  do  our 
work,  and  we  will  enjoy  the  benefit  of  their  toils.  We  hope  the  Jlethodists, 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  will  beware  of  this  snare. 

Uoth  of  the  writers  above  noticed  speak  in  flattering  terms  of  Wesley,  and 
of  his  followers.  But  they  take  good  care  to  let  us  know  what  they  think  of 
us,  nevertheless.  For  more  than  a  century,  we  have  been  nialdng  an  unjusti- 
fiable, innovation  upon  the  church.  All  the  ordinances  adminislered  by  us 
have  been  desecrated.  Our  children  have  been  profanely  baptized,  and  the 
Lord's  supper  no;  "  duly  administered."  And  now  tliese  gentlemen,  in  great 
charity,  come  forward,  and  most  kindly  ofler  us  the  cloak  of  succession,  to 
cover  our  nakedness,  and  to  screen  us  from  impending  wrath '. 

Now,  the  simple  question  is.  Are  the  Methodists  prepared  to  acknowledge 
thai  for  nearly  sixty  years  they  have  been  deluding  the.  people  with  the 
erroneous  idea,  that  they  have  had  the  "  pure  word  of  God  preached,  and  the 
sacraments  duly  administered  V  Arc  they  prepared  to  succumb  to  the  doc- 
trine of  succession — a  thing  which  has  no  existence  but  in  the  fancy  of  high  j 
churchmen  and  Roiuanists — and  which  Mr.  Wesley  declared  he  knew  to  be  i 
"a  fable V                                                                                                                                I 


13.   The  Nestorians ;    or,  the  Lost   Tribes.     Containing  Evidence  of  their 
Identity,  an  Account  of  their  Manners,  Customs,  and  Ceremonies,  together 
with  Sictchrs  of  Travel  in  ancient  Assyria,  Armenia,  Media,  and  Mesopo- 
tamia, and  niustrniions  of  Scripture  Prophecy.     By  Asaiicl  Gk.4NT,  M.  D. 
12mo.,  pp.  385.     New-York:   Harper  &  Brothers.    1811. 
This  is  a  most  interesting  and  instructive  volume.     One  third  of  the  book 
is  occupied  with  sketches  of  the  author's  travels  among  the  Nestorians  and 
reighboring  tribes.     These  people  live  in  the  mountains  between  Armenia, 
Media,  and  Mesopotamia.     They  are,  in  all  respects,  a  most  singular  and  in- 
teresting people.     They  profess  Christianity,  into  which  profession  they  were 
probably  brought  by  the  apostles  of  Christ  or  their  immediate  successors. 
The  author's  graphic  descriptions  of  the  wildness  of  the  country  and  the  rude- 


1 1,    Thrmcsfor  the  Piilpil ;  bring  a  Collection  of  nearly  three  thousand  Topics 

tritlt  Tcils,  auilnhlr  for  jniOtic  Discourses  in  the  Pulpit  and  Lecture  Room. 

MostU/  ci'inpilnl  from  the  published  Works  of  ancient  and  modern  Divines. 

15y  AciiAiiAM  C."  li.iLDWiN.    1-3I110.,  pp.  354.     New- York :  M.  W.  Dodd, 

Urick  Cliiircli  Cliapcl,  opposite  Ihe  City  Hall.   1841. 

The  book  now  u))on  our  table  purporls  to  be  designed  as  a  help  to  ministers 
in  finding  p;is>aircs  suitable  for  the  various  occasions  which  present  themselves 
in  the  rniirsc  ofminLs'iC rial  duly.  Such  assistance  rnay,  in  some  instances,  be 
iiccdfnl,and  may  relieve  the  burdened  mind  of  the  preacher,  whose  pastoral  duties 
scarcely  pive  him  Xnne.  to  read  his  Bible  ;  but  it  looks  to  us  quite  jirobable  that 
it  will  much  mure  frcr|ucntly  encourage  indolence,  if  not  a  neglect  of  the  Scrip- 
lures.  l'\ir  ourselve.s,  ue  look  with  suspicion  upon  these  labor-saving  e.vpe- 
dienls;  especially  .-luch  as  will  relieve  a  preacher  from  the  necessity  of  a 
thorough  acquaiulance  with  the  Bible. 


15.  The  Poetry  and  History  of  Wyoming,  containing  CampbclVs  Gertrude^ 
\cith  a  IJiogmphical  Shetch  ef  the  Author.  By  Washington  Irvimc  ;  and  the 
History  of  Wyoming,  from  its  Discovery  to  the  Begintiing  of  the  present  Ccn- 
luri/.  Bv  William  L.  Stone.  l'2mo.,  pp.  324.  New-York  and  London  ; 
Wiley  A;'Putnain.   1641. 

Tills  is  a  volume  of  no  ordinary  interest.  Campbell's  poem,  entitled 
"  Gertnidc  of  ^V'yonling,'"  as  a  composition,  has  long  very  justly  been  admired. 
But  the  interest  of  the  History  will  generally  be  regarded  as  vastly  greater  than 
thai  of  llie  fictitious  tale,  however  beautifully  told.  The  History  is  a  detail  of 
facts,  (>aihiTi'd  from  authentic  records  and  living  witnesses.  The  facts  have 
been  collccirii  with  commendable  industry,  and,  in  geneial,  are  accurately  and 
elegantly  drawn  out. 

Our  relation  to  the  beautiful  valley  of  Wyoming,  and  to  many  of  the  heroes 
of  the  story,  doubtless  eivos  the  colonel's  book  an  interest  in  our  feelings  which 
it  will  not  have  in  the  feelings  of  all  its  readers.  This  far-famed  valley  is  our 
earthly  liomo.  We  stand  connected  by  marriage  with  the  family  of  Mrs. 
Myers,  whose  story  our  author  took  from  her  own  lips.  We  arc  intiiiiaitly 
acquainted  with  the  primitive  settlers,  who  still  survive,  and  have  long  been 
accuslonied  to  li.-ileii  to  their  tales  of  wo  and  grief— of  blood  and  slanghter — of 
fire  and  flood — of  nakedness  and  famine.  No  one  will  dispute  our  right,  under 
these  circumstances,  to  welcome  the  History  of  Wyoming  by  Col.  Stone. 
Had  the  author  gathered  all  the  interesting  anecdotes  which  may  still  ba 
collected  from  the  survivors  of  the  scenes  he  desenbes,  his  book  would  have 
been  much  larger,  and  not  at  all  diminished  in  its  interest.  The  coloneFs 
Bketchcs  are  not  pretty  fancies  ;  they  are  rather  diDi  outlines  of  the  reality. 


.484  Critical  Notices.  [July. 

Bess  of  the  people  are  enchanting.  But  the  fact  that  the  way  seems  open  for 
the  revival  of  leligion  and  a  higher  state  of  civilization  among  the  inhabitants  1 

of  these  mountains  is  by  far  the  most  important  presented  in  this  work.  -| 

The  remainder  of  the  vohime  consists  princijially  of  an  argument  to  prove  ^ 

the  Israelitish  oricrin  of  tlii-^  singular  people.     This  part  of  the  work,  whether  ^ 

it  may  be  deemed  eniiicly  conclusive  or  not,  is  well  worthy  of  consideration. 
In  this  investigation  tin'  author  has  shown  both  learning  and  research.  The 
mass  of  facts,  prophetic,  historical,  topographical,  and  philological,  which  he 
brings  tobearu|)on  his  argument,  is  indeed  striking,  and  cannot  fail  to  awaken 
in  the  retider's  mind  a  deep  interest  in  the  Nestorian  Christians,  though  it 
should  fail  to  secure  his  full  assent  to  the  author's  theory  with  regard  to 
their  origin.     Success  to  Dr.  Grant  and  his  book. 


^      ir^rt^^' /:^V'/^J^^r.>:  y 


Vj>^ 


THE 

METHODISI'  QUARTERLY  REVIEW, 
OCTOBER,  isn. 


EDITED    BY   GEORGE   PECK,   D.  D. 


Art,  I. — A  Critical  Grammar  of  the  Hebrew  Language.  Bv 
Isaac  Nordheimer,  Doctor  in  Pliilosophy  of  the  l.'niversity  of 
JIunich ;  Professor  of  Arabic,  Syriac,  and  other  Oriental  Lan- 
guages in  the  University  of  the  Oily  of  A"e\v-York.  In  two 
volumes,  Svo.  Vol.  I,  pp.  2S0.  Nc'-.v-York :  Wiley  and  Pnt- 
nam.  183S.     Vol.  II,  pp.  3G0.  181 1. 

The  attention  which  has  been  bestowed  upon  the  stud)''  of  lan- 
guages during  the  last  fifty  years  has  j)roduccd  gTeat  and  inipoilant 
results.  For  it  has  been  not  merely  the  study  of  words  and 
gi'ammatical  forms,  but,  in  addition,  an  extended  and  comprehen- 
sive view  of  the  general  principles  of  language,  of  the  changes  it 
has  undergone,  and  of  the  causes  whicli  have  produced  such  diver- 
sities of  speech  in  different  nations.  The  investigations  of  the 
philologist  have  not  been  restricted,  as  was  once  the  case,  within 
tlie  limits  of  the  languages  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome;  but  every 
region  of  the  earth  has  been  penetrated,  and  the  dialects  of  almost 
every  nation  or  tribe  brought  to  light  and  critically  analyzed,  for  the 
purpose  of  discovering  the  primitive  elements  of  speecli.  During 
no  period  in  the  history  of  literature  liavc  so  much  labor  and  re- 
search been  bestowed  upon  long-mooted  questions  in  philolog}'-,  and 
at  no  time  have  so  many  attacks  been  made  upon  positions  long 
since  regarded  as  established.  The  result  of  the  labors  and  in- 
vestigations carried  on  witliin  this  period  has  been,  if  not  the 
creation,  at  least  the  perfecting  of  the  science  of  ethnography  or 
comparative  philolog}' : — A  science  which  lias  unfolded  mj-steries  for 
the  solution  of  which  neither  history  nor  tradition  had  afforded 
any  clew ;  it  lias  gone  back  further  than  the  conjectures  of  fabulous 
or  jjoctic  history ;  it  lias  traced  the  migi-ations  of  tribes,  the  revolii- 

VoL.  I.— 31 


486  Nordhcimrr^s  Hchrcw  Grammar.  [October, 

tions  of  ages,  and  the  genealogy  of  mankind,  with  a  certainty  no  tra- 
dition could  afford.  For  as  Home  Tookc  (the  learned  and  ingenious 
author  of  tlie  Diversions  of  Purley)  says,  "  Language  cannot  lie ; 
and  from  the  language  of  every  nation  -we  may  with  certainty 
collect  its  origin." 

To  corroborate  the  Mosaic  account  of  the  creation  and  dispersion 
of  mankind,  early  philologifts  had  rested  content  with  the  hypothesis 
that  all  languages  were  resolvable  into  one,  and  that  the  Hebrew. 
This  was  a  mere  hypothesis,  which  their  limited  researches  had  by 
no  means  definitely  established ;  consequently,  upon  the  discovery 
of  the  numerous  dialects  of  America,  Africa,  and  Polynesia,  its 
advocates  were  beset  with  difficulties  .seemingly  insurmountable. 
Philologists,  both  Christian  and  infidel,  were  now  abroad  searching 
for  all  dialects,  resolving  them  to  their  primitive  elements,  and 
seeking  for  the  ultimate  atoms  from  which  all  these  varied  inflec- 
tions had  been  formed.  Every  day  new  languages  were  brought 
to  light,  and  the  difficulty  of  referring  all  to  one,  primitive  and 
universally  diffused,  seemed  proportionally  to  increase.  The  old 
philologist  was  driven  from  his  point,  and  the  unbeliever,  placing 
confidence  in  untenable  hypotheses  or  half-completed  researches, 
"exultingly  jiroclaimed  that  here  was  another  science  which  gave 
the  lie  to  the  divine  records,  and  would  allow  the  Jlosaic  history  to 
be  nothing  more  than  a  "  significant  jnythus,"  or  an  illustrative 
fable.  But  infidelity  in  this,  as  in  other  similar  instances,  had  come 
to  premature  conclusions.  The  decision  was  made  before  all  the 
witnesses  had  been  brought  to  the  stand,  even  before  Inlf  the  lan- 
guages of  the  world  had  been  examined.  And  not  only  was  the 
conclusion  defective  iu  this  respect,  but  another  great  error  existed 
in  the  manner  in  which  the  comparison  of  languages  was  made. 
Trifling  and  whimsical  analogies  of  words  merely  had  been  dis- 
covered, and  these,  in  a  science  which  had,  as  yet,  no  settled  prin- 
ciples of  investigation  laid  down,  were  made  to  prove  a  near  afl^nity 
between  languages :  so,  on  the  other  hand,  a  dissimilarity  of  sounds 
was  thought  to  cstabhsh  a  radical  difference. 

This  system  of  procedure  was  now  to  be  changed.  Discoveries 
had  been  made  sufficient  to  show,  that  tracing  affinities  by  such 
a  method  as  this  was  entirely  unphilosophical,  and  while  it  gave 
unbounded  hcense  for  fanciful  conjecture,  at  the  same  time  it 
afforded  no  true  principle  for  correct  judgment.  Words  alone  were 
31^ 


1841.]  Nordheimcr''s  Hebrew  Grammar.  487 

not  to  be  compared,  tlic  external  appcarnncc  of  language  was  not 
to  be  the  only  object  of  study,  but  words  in  tlicir  arrangement  and 
consecution  were  to  be  analyzed,  and  liie  internal  structure  of 
speech  critically  investigated.  For  there  is  an  inlicrent  tendency 
in  language  to  change  its  vocal  sounds,*  even  while  its  grammar 
remains  fixed  and  determinate.  Hence,  in  proceeding  upon  the 
system  of  merely  comparing  a  certain  number  of  words,  the  philo- 
logist was  liable  at  every  stage  of  his  progress  to  fall  into  errors. 
Thus  tlie  conclusions,  to  which  many  arrived  as  to  the  radical  dif- 
ference of  tlie  languages  they  had  investigated,  afforded  the  infidel 
ground  for  his  denial  of  the  ^Mosaic  account  of  the  peopling  of  the 
world  from  a  single  pair,  and  of  the  subsequent  dispersion  of  man- 
kind. For,  he  argued,  if  the  whole  ^^'orld  was  originally  "  of  one 
language  and  of  one  speech,"'!  whence  come  these  numerous 
dialects  so  radically  diiferent?  Why  have  not  languages  more 
affinhies  common  to  all  ?  But  he  was  reasoning  on  false  hypotheses, 
or  rather  on  premises  not  fully  established.  For  the  elder  Hum- 
bolt,  whose  linguistic  researclies,  together  with  those  of  his  brother, 
gave  new  impulse  to  liiis  science,  says,  "  Languages  are  much 
more  strongly  chai'aclerizcd  b)'  their  structure  and  grammatical 
forms,  than  by  the  analogy  of  their  sounds  and  roots ;  and  the 
analog)'  of  sounds  is  sometimes  so  disfigured  in  the  different  dialects 
of  the  same  tongue  as  not  to  be  distinguishable  ;  for  the  tribes  into 
which  a  nation  is  divided,  often  designate  the  same  object  byAvords 
altogether  heterogeneous.  Hence  we  are  easily  jnistaken,  if, 
neglecting  the  study  of  inflecliosis  and  consulting  only  the  roots, 
we  decide  upon  the  absolute  difference  of  two  idioms  from  the 
simple  want  of  resemblance  in  sound."J  This  v/as  the  rock  upon 
which  the  presumptuous  philologist  had  split — passing  by  the  in- 
ternal structure  of  speech  and  consulting  external  appearances 
alone ;  neglecting  the  grammar  of  language  to  observe  merely  the 
resemblance  or  dissimilarity  of  sounds.  Thus,  it  was  asserted  not 
onl)'  tluit  tlic  }iunierous  dialects  of  our  American  aborigines  were 

*  "  The  Jesuits  in  China  inform  \is,  th;it  in  that  great  empire,  with  a  written 
language  intcUigible  to  half  tlie  people,  the  inliahilants  of  one  village  can 
scareely  understand  the  speech  of  anotiicr." — Dr.  Lang's  View  of  the  Pohj- 
ncsinn  Nation. 

t  See  Genesis  xi,  1. 

t  See  "Humboldt's  Personal  Narrative." 


46S  N'ordhciiiicr''s  Ilchrew  Grammar.  [October, 

entirely  different  from  the  Ifinguagcs  of  the  eastern  liemisplicre,  bm 
that  dissimilarities  existed  in  the  dialects  of  different  tribes  sulli- 
cicnt  to  mark  them  as  distinct  and  peculiar.  So  Dr.  Von  JIariius, 
who  bestowed  considerable  labor  and  research  upon  the  dialects  of 
the  South  American  Indians,  in  view  of  what  he  considered  such 
striking  differences,  unable  to  conceive  of  their  proceeding  from 
the  eastern  continent,  pronounced  the  American  Indians  to  be  indi- 
genous.* Such  miphilosophical  conclusions  can  only  be  accounted 
for,  by  sujiposing  that  their  authors  wished  in  every  possible  way 
to  invalidate  the  Jlosaic  history.  More  recent  and  extended  rc- 
scarclies  have  proved  such  theories  to  be  false,  for  although  there 
does  exist  great  diversity  in  the  external  features  of  the  American 
languages,  yet  tiicre  is  "  a  common  principle  of  mechanism"  in 
their  internal  structure,  which  we  cannot  explain  otherwise  than  by 
referring  them  to  a  common  origin.  Our  countiyman,  the  late  Dr. 
Barton,!  bestowed  much  labor  and  investigation  upon  this  subject, 
and  in  examining  eighty-tlu-ce  different  American  languages,  lie 
discovered  in  them  a  wonderful  similarity  of  structiue.  Later,  yet 
independent,  rcsearclies  have  proved  these  languages  to  be  cognate 
to  those  of  Ea.stern  and  South-eastern  Asia.  The  various  dialects 
of  the  Polynesian  natioTis  are  also  on  strict  philological  principles 
referred  to  an  Asiatic  origin.  'J'luis  we  find  that  tlie  great  diversity 
of  languages  is  more  apparent  than  real,  and  that  all  can  be  referred 
to  a  few  prominent  divisions.^ 

After  discovering  and  investigating  the  structure  of  a  multitude 
of  languages, 4  the  elhnographist  arrived  at  still  more  definite  con- 
clusions. He  has  succeeded,  1st.  In  demonsti-aling  the  original 
unih,-  of  language ;  2d.  In  showing  that,  independent  of  revc- 
lalinn,  wc  must  suppose  some  violent  disnipliou  of  society, 
(and  not  a  gradual  change  or  different  arrangement  of  clc- 
jncnts,)  in   order  to    account    for  the    existing    diversity    of  lan- 

•  "  Ipsos  Gcrmunos  indigenos,  crediderim." — Tacitus,  Dc  Morihus  Gcr- 
manorum. 

f  Tlie  results  of  liis  labors  will  be  found  in  "Mithridates,"  vol.  iii,  cominlcJ 
by  A'ater. 

I  Sir  William  Jones  was  of  the  opinion  thai  three  great  branches  of  laiiguago 
were  sudicitnt  to  account  for  all  the  cxi.sting  dialects. 

}  The  "  Saoijio  prattico  dclle  Linguc"  of  Ilervas  contains  the  Lord's  prayor 
in  three  hundred  diU'ercnt  dialects,  with  explanatory  and  grammatical  notes. 
The  "  Miibridates"  of  Adclung  and  Vaicr  is  still  mure  extensive  and  criiic.d. 


1811.]  Nonlheimcr^s  Hehrciv  Grammar.  489 

guagc*  Thus  we  sec  that  these  researches,  instead  of  disproving 
the  Mosaic  account  of  the  creation  of  man  and  the  confusion  of 
tongues,  only  the  more  fully  corroborate  it — another  science 
is  wrested  from  unhallowed  liands,  and  brought  to  vindicate 
the  truth  of  the  word  of  God.  We  have  given  the  above  views  on 
the  subject  of  ethnography,  not  only  from  a  conviction  of  the  in- 
trinsic importance  of  the  science,  but  in  view  of  its  peculiar  con- 
nection with  the  study  of  the  Hebrew  language,  both  with  regard 
to  the  impulse  given  to  its  pursuit  by  the  invcsiigations  of  com- 
parative philology  and  the  opinion  of  many  that  the  primitive  lan- 
guage to  wliich  all  others  should  be  referred  is  the  Hebrew.  We 
see  no  reason  for  supposing  that  the  primitive  language  was  entirely 
lost  in  the  confusion  of  tongues,  but  we  prefer  the  opinion  that  the 
Hebrew  has  retained  the  characteristics  of  this  original  form  of 
speech,  though  not  without  changes  in  its  structure.  There  appears 
nothing  improbable  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  and  argimients 
drawn  from  the  nature  of  the  Hebrew  might  be  adduced  in  support 
of  it.  As  it  appears  to  be  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  account  of 
Jloses,  and  as  so  many  facts  tend  to  substantiate  it,  we  prefer  to 
hold  this  view  until  its  opponents  bring  forward  weightier  reasons 
for  rejecting  it. 

But  to  leave  that  question.  We  think  it  will  not  be  disputed  at 
the  present  day,  that  the  Hebrew  is  the  oldest  language  of  all 
those  whose  literary  records  we  possess.  This  was  once  denied, 
and  wlien  in  "rolls  of  old  Brahminic  lore"  the  Sanscrit  was  dis- 
covered, some  of  its  ardent  friends  affirmed  that  here  were  records 
which  dated  back  beyond  the  time  stated  by  I\Ioses  as  the  creation 
of  man  ;  its  less  enthusiastic  disciples  declared  that  we  must  allow 
these  works  an  antiquity  as  high  as  fourteen  centuries  before  the 
Christian  era.  The  arguments  by  which  these  pretensions  are 
supported  have  a  value  corresponding  to  the  fabulous  tales  of  the 
Brahmins,  on  wliich  they  seem  to  be  founded.!     Hence  we  regard 

*  For  a  popuUr  and  somewhat  extruded  view  of  the  origin  and  progress  of 
Ethnography,  sec  Dr.  Wiseman's  "  Lectures  on  the  Comparative  Study  of 
Languages." 

t  After  all,  the  Sanscrit  must  be  considered  a  language  of  high  antiquity, 
and  we  would  by  no  means  adopt  the  theory  Dugald  Stewart  has  advanced, 
that  the  "  Sanscrit  is  a  jargon  of  Greek  and  Latin."  Such  a  theory  the  merest 
tyro  in  philology  ought  to  be  able  to  refute. 


490  .         Nordhcimcr''s  Ilehreto  Grammar.  [October, 

it  as  an  established  point,  that  llie  records  of  our  holy  religion  date 
nearer  the  creation  tlian  any  other  known  writings.  With  tliis 
acknowledged,  wliat  an  interest  is  attached  to  the  study  of  the 
Hebrew  !  We  approacli  with  veneration  a  language  of  such  high 
pretensions.  It  is  tlie  language  of  patriarchs,  prophets,  and  poets  ; 
of  men  w!io  helJ  converse  with  God.  No  language  of  earth  has 
liigher  and  holier  claims  upon  our  attention  than  this  :  for,  in  it  wc 
have  the  first  transcript  of  the  words  of  Jeliovah.  Here  is  legisla- 
tion in  its  purest  form;  here  is  poctr}' in  its  highest  and  lofliest, 
strains,  even  that  wiiicli  was  prompted  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  And 
here  arc  proplietic  visions  invested  with  all  the  certainty  of 
liistory. 

"Though  for  more  than  two  thousand  years  the  Hebrew  has 
ceased  to  be  a  spoken  language  ;  though  tlie  voices  of  heaven- 
commissioned  prophets  are  no  longer  heard,  proclaiming  "  the  day 
of  vengeance  of  our  God ;"  and  minstrel  kings  have  ceased  to 
sing  the  songs  of  Zion  among  the  hills  and  valleys  of  Judea,  yet, 
through  the  protecting  care  of  Providence,  the  Hebrew  Bible  has 
come  down  tn  us  almost  as  perfect  as  it  proceeded  from  the  mind 
of  Jehovah.'  This  fact  should  malcc  its  study  desirable  and  inte- 
resting to  every  Chriitian  scliolar.  To  the  man  whom  God  has 
called  as  one  of  his  ajipoinlei]  servants,  it  appears  to  us  that  a 
knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  is  of  almost  indispensable  importance. 
Without  it,  hiiw  can  he  be  fully  prepared  to  vindicate  the  truths  of  our 
holy  religion  ?  how  can  he  answer  all  the  cavils  of  infidels,  or  defen>l 
those  doctrines  which  he  claims  to  have  drawn  from  the  word  of 
Cud  ?t  It  may  be  answered  that  we  have  a  translation  which  con- 
veys to  us  the  very  meaning  of  the  inspired  original.  Such  an 
answer  indicates  lamentable  ignorance  of  the  first  principles  of 
language.     .Ml  translations  are  defective,  and  ours  is  so,  of  neccs- 

*  In  llio  early  jinrt  of  itie  scvciitcenlh  century  a  controversy  M'as  carried  on 
Willi  rcrrarJ  to  the  integrity  of  the  Hebrew  te.\t.  Buxtorf  maintained  tluit  the 
labors  of  t!ie  !4[:isoritcs  had  preserved  the  text  from  any  corruptions.  This 
was  denied  fiy  CiipelUis  and  his  foUov.crs.  The  general  opinion  of  scholars  if, 
that  variations  and  errors  exist,  yet  (>f  sneli  a  nature  as  to  be  of  little  importance. 
This  view  is  sujiporlcd  by  the  (.■olhaion  of  numernns  nuni'iscripts. 

I  Infidels  have  often  taken  udv.ini.iL'e  of  iiirn-cnralc  or  fnlsu  translations.  \vi 
appeal  to  the  orij,'inal  will  t;ener.illv  ebi  o  llieir  monlhs.  Thus  all  diffieiiltie< 
with  regard  to  ihe  lr3M?;u'tio:is  .^pulcii  of  \n  V,\oA.  iii,  20,  and  1  Chron.  xx,  3, 
arc  removed  by  a  correct  iindcrslanihuL;  of  the  verbs  used  in  those  passages. 


1811.]  Nordlieime)-''s  Hebrew  Grammar.  491 

sity,  both  on  account  of  tho  low  plale  of  Hebrew  learning  at  the 
lime  it  was  made,  and  the  few  manuscripts  that  could  be  obtained. 
Dr.  Macknighl,  in  reference  to  our  authorized  version,  says,  "  It  is 
by  no  means  such  a  just  representation  of  the  inspired  originals  as 
merits  to  be  implicitly  relied  upon  for  determining  the  controverted 
articles  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  for  quieting  the  dissensions 
which  have  rent  the  church."  If  we  examine  the  manner  in  which 
our  present  version  was  made,  we  think  that  the  truth  and  justice 
of  the  above  remaiks  wih  be  readily  acknowledged. 

When  the  stud}-  of  the  Hebrew  was  extensively  introduced  among 
Christians,  it  was  learned  through  the  Vulgate,  a  version  made  by 
Jerome  in  the  fourth  century,  and  which  is  the  only  publicly  autho- 
rized version  of  the  Romish  Church.  Hence  all  the  translations 
published  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  are  directly 
or  indirectly  dependent  upon  this.  Wickliffe's,  made  in  13S0,  was 
acknowledged  to  be  directly  from  it.  Luther  in  j)reparing  liis 
German  translation  was  obliged  to  consult  the  A'ulgate  for  the 
meaning  of  Hebrew  words.  Tyndale,  who  completed  his  in  1526, 
was  greatly  indebted  to  Luther's.  Cranmer's  (1540)  was  only  a 
corrected  copy  of  the  one  published  by  Tyndale  and  Rogers  in 
1537,  and  commonl)'  called  Jlatthew's  Bible.  A  revision  of  Cran- 
mer's was  made  in  1 568  by  Archbishop  Parker ;  iiencc  it  is  often 
called  the  Bishops'  or  Parker's  Bible.  In  1604  it  was  determined 
that  a  new  revision  should  be  made  under  the  direction  of  .Tames  I, 
and  he  recommended  that  in  doing  this  "the  ordinary  Bible  read 
in  the  church,  commonly  called  the  Bishops'  Bible,  be  followed, 
and  as  little  altered  as  the  original  will  permit."*  Thus  it  can  be 
readily  seen  that  our  present  authorized  version  was  not  an  inde- 
pendent translation,  but  merely  a  compilation  of  several  preceding 
ones,  all  of  them  placing  much  reliance  upon  the  Vulgate.t  The 
fact  that  so  many  learned  Biblical  scholars  have  called  for  a  new 
translation,  or  revision  of  the  authorized  version,  is  proof  enough 
of  its  imperfections.  Among  those  who  have  desired  that  such  a 
revision  should  be  made,  are  Archbisliop  Ncwcombe,  Bishops 
Lowlh  and  Jlarsh,  Dr.  Kennicott,  Dr.  White,  Jlr.  Wesley,  and 
Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  together  with  some  of  the  first  Biblical  scholars 

*  This  was  Olio  of  the  rules  given  by  Kinj  James  to  the  comiiilers. 
\  For  fuller  information  on  this  subject  liishop  i\Iursh's  "  .Second  Lecture 
on  the  Interprelaliou  of  the  Bible"  may  be  consulted. 


492  Nordhcimcr's  Hebrew  Grammar.  [October, 

of  our  own  country.  Yet,  after  all,  \vc  doubt  whether,  under 
present  cii-cumslanccs,  while  there  exist  so  many  dissensions  in 
the  church  of  Christ,  sucli  a  revision  would  be  expedient  or  even 
practicable. 

The  great  remedy  for  our  imperfect  version  must  be  in  a  ministi-y 
able  to  drink  at  those  fountains  of  inspiration — the  original  Scrip- 
tures. Shall  a  "  steward  of  the  mysteries  of  God"  place  all  his 
confidence  in  tiie  labors  of  uninspired  men  ?  or  shall  he  not  rather 
go  and  read  the  first  transcript  of  the  law  of  heaven?  In  one 
prominent  and  very  important  particular  all  translations  must  be 
defective.  \\^e  allude  to  the  subject  of  prophec)^  In  proof  of  this 
assertion  we  <iuote  the  following  from  Bishop  Marsh*  : — "  It  is  im- 
possible to  enter  into  the  true  spirit  of  Hebrew  prophecy  without  a 
knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  language.  -The  prophetic  style  of  Scrip- 
ture is  of  a  peculiar  kind,  and  it  is  always  difficult  and  sometimes 
impossible  to  express  in  English  what  is  expressed  in  Hebrew. 
Words  in  one  language  may  express  a.  Jigurative  meaning,  while 
the  corresponding  in  the  translation  will  give  only  a  literal.  Here, 
it  woidd  be  impossible  to  get  the  meaning  of  the  original  writer 
from  the  translation." 

Ill  view  of  these  considerations,  and  for  reasons  already  adduced, 
we  think  that  implicit  confidence  ought  not  to  be  placed  in  any 
translation  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  ;  still  less  should  we  trust  to  one 
made  by  men  who,  from  the  circumstances  of  the  times  in  which  it 
was  made,  were  not  so  well  alile  to  judge  of  the  true  import  of  the 
sacred  writings  as  we  of  the  present  age.  The  compilers  were 
not  learned  in  the  languages  kindred  to  the  Hebrew,  they  had  but 
few  early  translations  to  consult,  very  few  original  manuscriptst  to 
collate,  and,  above  all,  this  version  was  made  when  the  English 
language  ilsqlf  was  not  fully  settled.^  These  remarks  are  here 
introduced  neither  for  the  purpose  of  undervaluing  the  labors  of 
those  men  who,  with  commendable  zeal,  sought  to  place  the  Bible 
in  the  hands  of  every  one,  nor  to  set  too  low  an  estimate  upon  our 

*  See  his  "  I.cclnros  on  the  InferpreULtioti  of  the  Bible." 

f  Dr.  Keimicotl,  for  his  edition  of  the  Hebrew  Bible,  obtained  five  hundred 

and  eighty-one  inanu.soripts  for  collminii ;  Professor  Dc  Rossi,  in  1808,  had 

increased  the  number  to  six  hundred  and  eighty. 

J  An  aulhoriztd  translation  had  the  cfiect  of  plaeing  the  language  on  a  more 

settled  basis.     Slill,  in  our  present  verision  we  have  many  obsolete  words. 


1841.]  Nordheimcr^s  Ilchrcw  Grcnn/yiar.  493 

present  version,  for  we  believe  it  was  made  witl\  all  possible  accu- 
racy under  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  but  we  have  thus  written 
that  wo  might  urge  the  necessity  and  importance  of  the  study  of  the 
original  Scriptures  to  him  who  professes  to  deliver  the  whole 
counsel  of  God. 

On  this  point  we  will  quote  from  Wesley  in  his  "  Address  to  the 
Clerg}^."  Speaking  of  the  importance  of  an  accurate  knowledge 
of  the  Scriptures,  and  of  an  ability  to  derive  practical  benefit  from 
them,  he  continues  : — "  But,  can  he  do  this  in  the  most  effectud 
manner,  without  a  knowledge  of  the  original  tongues  ?  Without 
this  \vill  he  not  frequently  be  at  a  stand  even  as  to  texts  which 
regard  practice  only  ?  But  he  will  be  under  still  greater  difllcultics 
with  respect  to  controverted  scriptures.  He  will  be  ill  able  to 
rescue  these  out  of  the  hands  of  any  man  of  learning  that  would 
pervert  them  ;  for  wlienever  an  appeal  is  made  to  the  original,  his 
mouth  is  stopped  at  once."*  Though  we  believe  there  is,  at  the 
present  day,  no  church  or  body  of  men  ready  to  re-echo  the  papis- 
tical doctiine  that  any  translation  has  been  made  by  inspired  mcn,t 
and  is,  consequently,  infallible,  yet  does  not  this  seem  to  be  affirmed 
by  those  ministers  of  Christ  who  undervalue  the  importance  of  a  j 

know^ledge  of  the  original  Scriptures  ? 

We  have  insisted  the  more  strongly  upon  a  knowledge  of  tlie 
Hebrew,  because,  1st.  Without  it  we  cannot  understand  the  New- 
Testament  Greek ;  for  this  is  not  a  dialect  of  the  Greek  classic 
writers,  but  a  peculiar  modification,  resulting  from  an  admixture  of 
Hebrew  words,  but  more  especially  Hebrew  forms  of  expression. 
The  writers  of  the  New  Testament  were  Jews,  and  had  not  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  classic  Greek.  Their  habits  of  thought  were  dif- 
ferent, the  subject  of  their  ^^Titings  was  of  a  higher  nature.  Hence 
tlie  New  Testament,  or  Hellenistic  Greek,  is  distinct  from  the 
language  of  the  classic  writers,  and  for  a  jjroper  understanding  of  | 

it  we  must  go  back  to  the  source  of  its  pccidiarities — the  Hebrew. 
In  the  second  place  we  have  given  greater  projninence  to  the  I 

*  See  Wesley's  Works,  vol.  vi. 

■f  The  early  Christians  placed  more  confidence  in  the  Septuagint  than  in  the  i 

original,  supposing  it  to  have  been  made  by  inspired  men  ;  the  Council  of  Trent,  ! 

held  in  15-15,  declared  the  Vulgate  version  should  be  regarded  as  authentic, 
and  was  to  be  referred  to  in  all  controversies  as  decisive.  Many  Catholics 
have  affirmed  thai  St.  Jerome  (the  translator)  v,as  inspired. 


494  Nm-dJieimcrs  Hebrew  Grammar.  [October, 

Hebrew,  because  hitherto  its  cLiiins  have  been  too  httlo  appreciated 
by  the  Christian  sclioLir.  The  languages  of  heathen  Greece  and 
Rome  are  studied  in  all  our  places  of  learning,  and  the  Christian 
dwells  with  delight  upon  the  productions  of  their  poets,  orators,  and 
philosophers.  We  complain  not  of  this,  but  we  ask,  has  not  the 
language  in  which  stand  the  first  records  of  our  holy  religion,  at 
least  equal  claims  upon  our  time  and  attention?  Has  it  not  a 
better  right  to  a  place  in  our  courses  of  college  study  than  the  lan- 
guages of  those  heathen  nations  ? 

In  Europe  great  advances  have  been  made,  of  late,  in  this 
studJ^  The  labors  of  men,  holy  and  unholy,  have  been  directed 
to  unfolding  its  fomis  and  gi-ammatical  structure,  tracing  its  origin 
and  dificrent  changes.  Interest  is  awakened  among  all  classes  of 
educated  men  to  critically  examine  a  language  which  claims  to  have 
been  spoken  in  the  earliest  ages  of  society.  To  show  how  rapidlj' 
this  interest  had  increased,  Gcsenius  stated  that  during  his  Hebrew 
Lectures  for  l\\  cnty  years,  his  hearers  had  risen  from  fourteen  to 
more  than  five  hundred.  In  our  own  country,  owing  to  the  labors 
of  a  few  prominent  Biblical  scholars,  the  interest  in  the  study,  and 
the  facilities  for  prosecuting  it,  have  been  greatly  augmented  diuring 
the  last  quarter  of  a  centurj-.  Wc  fondly  hope  that  the  time  is 
not  far  distant  when  a  regular,  systematic,  and  critical  study  of  the 
Hebrew  will  be  incorporated  into  every  course  of  college  study, 
and  when  no  one  will  be  called  educated  who  is  ignorant  of  this — 
the  primitive  langxiagc  of  man. 

To  show  ihc  bearing  which  the  study  of  Hebrew  grammar  has 
upon  the  interpretation  of  the  Bible,  we  will  give  as  an  illustration 
an  instance  referred  to  by  Dr.  Wiseman.*  The  fifty-third  chapter 
of  Isaiah  has  usually  been  considered  by  Christians  as  prophetic  of 
the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ.  In  the  earliest  ages  of  the 
church  the  Jews  endeavored  to  elude  the  force  of  this  prophecy  by 
asserting  that  it  referred  to  some  gi-eat  prophet,  or  to  the  whole 
prophetic  body.  The  German  Rationalists  have  favored  the  idea 
that  the  svdlVrings  and  captivity  of  the  Jewish  people  are  here 
represented.  Tluou^hout  the  chapter  the  singular  is  used,  until 
in  the  last  clause  of  the  eighth  verse  we  find  the  expression, 
".?3!S)  533  ■'"?  ""?'?!  'IS  our  version  has  il,/o?-  the  transgression  of  rmj 

*  Sec  his  "  First  Lecture  on  Sacred  Literature." 


1841.]  Nordheimer''s  JJchrew  Grammar.  495 

people  was  he  siricknn*  But  it  is  asserted  that  tl)e  poetical  pronoun 
i?;?  is  always  plural,  and  tliat  it  was  jicrc  used  by  the  propliet  in 
order  to  prevent  any  ambiguity  in  rendering  tlie  passage.  In  ac- 
cordance witli  tliis  view,  and  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  his 
comment  on  tliis  chapter,  Gesenias  lays  it  down  as  a  certain  rule 
of  Hebrew  grammar  that  the  poetical  pronoun  is?  is  plural,  and 
although  sometimes  referring  to  singular  nouns,  it  is  only  so  when 
they  are  collective.  This  has  been  denied  by  Ewald,  and  he 
brings  forward  passages  wlierc  this  pronoun  occurs,  and  the  con- 
text clearly  shows  that  it  must  liave  a  singular  signification,  as  in 
Job  xxvii,  23  ;  Isa.  xliv,  15.  The  grammatical  difficulty  is  thus 
removed,  and  in  a  most  able  manner  is  this  important  propiiecy 
wrested  from  the  hands  of  these  men,  who  deny  the  inspiration  and 
autlioritjr  of  tlie  oracles  of  God. 

We  come  now  more  particularly  to  examine  the  work  we  have 
placed  at  the  liond  of  our  article.  The  first  volume  has  been  for 
some  time  before  the  public,  and  has  been  favorably  noticed  by 
reviewers,  both  at  home  and  abroad.  The  second  is  just  published, 
and  has  redeemed  tlie  pledge  whicli  the  aulhor  made  on  the  appear- 
ance of  the  first.  In  noticing  these  volumes  we  will  follow  the 
order  the  aulhor  lias  taken,  and  wliile  we  attempt  to  point  out 
some  of  the  peculiar  excellences  of  his  system,  we  shall  also  note 
some  views  from  wliich  we  are  obhged  to  dissent.  The  general 
an-angement  of  the  plan  of  the  work  is  clear  and  systematic,  and 
the  exphcation  of  it  accurate  and  philosophical. 

Perliaps  no  one  has  ever  entered  upon  the  investigation  of  tlio 
grammatical  structure  of  the  Hebrew  witli  a  better  preparation  for 
the  work,  than  our  author  appears  to  have  done.  Possessing  an  en- 
tluisiastic  fondness  for  tlie  Hebrew,  he  has  broiiglil  to  bear  upon  its 
study,  not  only  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  cognate  dialects,  but 
also  of  the  general  principles  of  comparative  philology.  He  has 
availed  himself  of  the  labors  of  learned  Biblical  critics  and  com- 
mentators, and  his  acquaintance  with  the  works  of  the  early  Jewish 

*  Dr.  KcnnJcott  is  of  tlic  opinion  that  this  passage  originally  read  r^"b. 
The  clause  would  then  be  rendered,  "for  the  transgrcssioix  of  my  people  he 
it-as  smitten  to  death."  This  view  is  supported  by  the  reading  of  the  Scptuagint, 
vhich  has  Vif  Oavarov.  Bishop  Lowth  and  Dr.  Adam  Clarke  adopt  this  emen- 
dation. By  so  doing  we  escape  the  grammatical  dithcuky,  yet  wo  think  there 
is  not  suflicient  authority  for  such  a  correction. 


496  No!dJicimcr''s  Hebrew  Gmrtvinar.  [October, 

and  Christian  grammarians  lias  ^ivcn  him  many  advantages  for  the 
prosecution  of  his  investigations.  He  has  liad  a  great  mass  of 
materials  to  consult,  and  he  appears  to  have  used  all  requisite  care 
in  his  selection.  j\Iust  grammarians  have  entered  upon  the  inves- 
tigation of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Hebrew  with  preconceived  pre- 
judices, arising  in  a  measure  from  their  more  intimate  luiowledgc 
of  languages,  wliich  present  appearances  so  dissimilar  to  the  one 
they  are  attempting  to  explain.  The  author  of  the  work  before  us 
seems  to  have  discovered,  at  the  outset,  that  this  error  was  the 
cause  of  so  many  failing  to  accomplish  what  they  had  imdertaken. 
He  appears  to  have  divested  himself  of  all  such  prejudices,  and  by 
a  critical  study  of  coanparative  philology,  and  a  careful  examination 
of  the  general  principles  of  speech,  to  have  become  well  prepared 
for  the  diflicull  task  of  explaining  on  philosophical  principles  the 
internal  features  of  so  primitive  a  language  as  the  Hebrew.  He 
shows  us  that  the  gi-cat  discoveries  and  advances  made  ui  general 
philology  have  had  their  corresponding  influence  in  modifying  the 
principles  upon  wliich  an  examination  of  the  peculiarities  of  tlic 
Hebrew  should  lie  made. 

Gcsenius  accomplished  mucli  by  his  copious  collection  and 
skilful  arrangement  of  facts  pertaining  to  the  study  of  the  language; 
yet  the  defects  of  his  "  Critical  System"  of  the  Hebrew  were  so 
apparent,  that  Ewald  rushed  into  the  opposite  extreme,  and,  placing 
no  reliance  upon  the  opinions  of  others,  lie  has  stalled  bold  and 
fanciful  theories,  and  often  indulges  in  a  kind  of  "philological 
mysticism."  Still  his  grammar  has  many  just  and  original  views, 
and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  midertook  its  construction  upon 
such  ^^^■on^  principles  of  procedure. 

Our  author,  comparing  the  course  he  has  taken  with  reference  to 
these  two  jiromincnl  grammarians,  remarks, — 

"  Tltat,  while  in  forming  liis  opinion,  he  Ims  remained  completely 
indcpt-mlcnt  of  liOih,his  aim  has  been  to  preserve  a  course  intermediate 
to  those  whicli  ilicy  have  pursued,  remembering  that, 


-Sunt  ccni  cienique  fines, 


Qiios  ultra  cilraque  nequit  consistere  rectum.' 

"  Thus,  on  the  one  hand,  the  author  has  not  shunned  the  discussion 
of  the  most  forniiduble  topics  thnt  present  themselves  in  the  course  of 
the  etymolo<cy,  even  to  the  minutest  particulars.  Nor  has  he  rested 
satislicd,  in  altempiiug  their  illustration,  with  adducing  as  a  ground 


1S41.]  Nordhciiners  Hebrew  Grmnviar.  497 

fi'i-m  some  similrir  ajipearancc  in  llio  Arnmnic  or  Arabic  ;  for  indispen- 
sable as  a  know  l^'dLiC  I'l'  iho  si-ster  iliak-cts  certainly  is  1o  a  thorongli 
acquaintance  witli  the  Hebrew,  the  tnie  use  of  sneli  luiowled^e  consists 
not  in  ihc  bare  c:itation  of  parallel  cases,  but  in  iho  application  of  the 
principles  which  regulate  their  phenomena  to  the  illustration  of  the 
Hebrew  within  its  own  limits." 

Thi.s  is  certainly  a  right  principle  to  proceed  upon,  and  our 
author  has  successfully  carried  it  out;  at  tlic  same  time  helms  not 
been  led  by  the  mere  thirst  for  novelty,  in  advancing  theories  op- 
posed to  the  views  of  preceding  grammarians.  He  has  given  us  a 
system  simple  and  full,  founded  on  the  primitive  laws  of  speech,  in 
the  place  of  those  wjiich  were  highly  artificial  and  complicated. 

His  remarks  upon  the  powers  and  representatives  of  the  Hebrew 
letters  appear  to  be  just  and  discriminating.  In  some  points  he 
differs  from  the  manner  of  pronunciation  most  common  among 
Hebrew  scholars  of  this  country.  Yet  after  all  it  is  a  m.ailcr  of 
but  little  consequence,  provided  we  have  a  system  of  universal 
applicability,  at  the  same  time  founded  on  the  general  principles  of 
the  language. 

The  chapter  on  the  vowels  is  peculiarly  clear,  and  presents  us 
with  some  striking  and  original  views  on  the  common  nature  of  the 
vowel  sounds.  There  can  be  no  question  at  the  present  day  as  to 
the  fact  that  the  Hebrew  was  originally  writlcji  without  the  vowel 
signs.  The  early  Hebrew  sciiolars,  trusting  to  rabbinical  tra- 
ditions, confidently  believed  that  the  vowel  points  were  coeval  with 
the  consonants,  but  the  discovery  of  the  Samaritan  pentateuch  (in 
which  there  are  no  vowel  signs)  gave  them  new  views  upon  the 
subject.  Accordingly,  Louis  Capellus  strongly  contended  for 
their  modern  origin,  and  the  younger  Bu.xtorf  as  strenuously 
asserted  their  antiquity.  Tlic  controversy  was  carried  on  for  a 
number  of  years,  and  as  late  as  1770  Dr.  Robertson,  of  Edinburgh, 
published  a  dissertation  defending  their  antiquity.  Several  distin- 
guished German  scholars  of  the  last  century  proposed  a  middle 
path  ;  asserting  that  in  the  earliest  stages  of  the  language  use  was 
made  of  some  vowel  points,  probably  three,  but  allowing  that  tlie 
present  S3'stem  was  an  invention  of  the  Masoritcs. 

Our  author  thinks,  that  as  long  as  the  language  continued  to  lie 
a  spoken  one,  no  vowel  signs  were  employed  ;  but  when  it  ceased 
to  be  spoken,  tlie  inconveniences  arising  from  the  want  of  tlicni 
began  to  be  felt.     Hence,  the  literati,  whose  veneration  for  tlic 


49S  NordIichnc7-''s  Hebrew  Grammar.  [October, 

sacred  tongue  would  not  jicrmit  tlicm  to  alter  its  orthographical 
system,  in  order  to  represent  the  principal  vowel  sounds,  employed 
those  consonants  which  were  nearest  allied  to  them.  The  one:* 
thus  used  were  s,  1,  and  i ;  these  represented  respectively  a,  v, 
and  ?.*  He  then  proceeds  to  demonstrate  that  these  are  the  chief 
vowel  soiuids,  the  others  being  merely  inlcrmcdiate  modifications 
of  them.j 

"^  10.  1.  Of  :i!l  ihe  sounds  which  enter  into  the  composition  of 
Rpet.-1-li  tli-.t  of  t'le  \(r,vi.'l  a  is  the  simplest  and  the  n]Ost  easily  produced, 
it  consisiiiit;  ,,[■ ,,  nu'ic,  iiiiission  of  ihe  voice  through  the  unclosed  lips ; 
and  on  tliis  .■n'rnuiit  it  ranks  lirst  in  most  alphabets.  2.  The  vowel  i  is 
produced  by  tiir  sreatcst  horizontal  dilatation  of  the  mouth,  or,  in  other 
words,  it  is  thai  vnwcl  in  the  enunciation  of  which  the  oral  aperture  is 
exiciidi'd  ion^iludiiially  in  the  greatest  decree.  3.  The  utterance  of 
its  opposite  II  is  clircicd  liy  the  closest  approximation  of  the  corners  of 
the  niontb.  during!  the  emission  of  the  voice.  The  remaining  vowel 
sounds  are  the  imcrmcdiates  of  the  three  principal  ones  :  thus  the 
diphthon>;:il  vowel  <  lies  l.ielv.'cen  a  and  i,  both  of  which  sounds  enter 
into  its  compoMiinn,  \'. hence  it  is  frequently  denoted  both  in  English 
and  French  by  llie  two  conjoined,  thus  fniJ,  gait,  niaison,  fraichc ;  so 
too  the  diphihoujjai  vowel  o,  the  medium  between  a  and  ii,  is  repre- 
sented in  the  latter  tongue  by  a  combination  of  its  elements,  thus, 

There  v,as  a  jieculiar  appropriateness  in  employing  the  weak 
conson.-uits  ;*,  t,  and  i,  to  represent  the  three  principal  vowel  sounds ; 
but,  as  there  were  no  characters  to  denote  their  modifications,  the 
system  v.as  as  yet  only  imperfectly  developed.  Hence,  after  the 
destruction  of  Jcrtisalcm  and  the  dispersion  of  the  .lews  throughout 
the  world,  there  arose  difliculties  as  to  the  correct  manner  of  pro- 
nunciation. These  could  only  be  removed  by  the  introduction  of 
mere  vov,-el  signs  ;  in  this  way  the  system  was  gradually  improved 
until  it  was  completed,  probably  at  the  close  of  the  seventh  century. 

'J'he  ([ucstion  has  been  often  asked.  If  the  vowel  system  is  com- 
paratively of  so  recent  origin,  what  importance  is  attached  to  it ' 
And  may  wc  not  in  some  instances  correct  the  reading  when  it  is 
entirely  dependent  upon  the  vowel  points  ?    To  the  first  part  of  this 

*  Those  are  lo  bo  pronounced  according  to  the  continental  mode  of  pvoniia- 
ciation. 

\  Professor  .\mli(in,  in  accoidancc  with  tlie  opinion  of  eminent  German 
philologists,  reinaiks:— "It  is  liighly  probable  that,  in  all  languages,  only  the 
simple  vowels  a,  i,  and  u  |)riinarily  existed,  and  tli.at  all  other  vowels  arose  out 
of  these  three  elementary  iouiids."    Sec  his  'Tndo  Germanic  Analogies." 


ISll.]  NonIhci?ner's  Hebrew  Grammar.  499 

question  we  reply  tluit  great  respect  sliould  be  paid  to  the  rmthority 
of  lliis  system,  as  it  is  the  result  of  the  labors  of  thai  faithful  body 
of  Jewish  critics,  the  IMasorites.  No  one  can  point  to  an  instance 
in  which  they  have  corrupted  the  sacred  text ;  on  the  coritrary,  they 
have  bestowed  upon  it  the  most  patient  and  conscientious  labor, 
and  have  taken  the  strictest  care  to  preserve  the  Holy  Scriptures 
in  their  original  purity.  To  the  second  part  of  the  question  we 
answer,  that  the  present  reading  should  be  well  weighed,  and  all 
the  arguments  duly  considered,  before  w-e  venture  to  alter  that  which 
has  been  established  bj^  competent  autliority.  On  no  account  should 
we  admit  emendations  which  are  merely  conjectural.  ' 

The  utility  of  the  vowel  points  to  a  learner  of  the  Hebrew  is 
very  great.  Hence  the  sj-stem  of  Masclef  and  Parkhurst,  which 
rejects  the  use  of  them,  cannot  be  too  severely  ccnsuj-ed.  This 
system  is  destructive  of  the  correct  principles  of  interpretation,  as 
it  blends  together  nouns  and  verbs,  and  different  species  of  the 
verb.  By  it  the  student  is  rapidly  advanced  in  the  first  part  of  his 
course,  but  it  fails  of  making  sound  and  critical  Hebrew  scholars. 
Their  rejection  of  the  vowel  points  is  the  more  to  be  wondered  at, 
when  we  consider  that  the  vowels  have  a  more  important  part  to 
act  in  the  Semitish  than  in  the  occidental  languages,  for  in  the  for- 
mation of  words  from  primitive  roots,  the  Orientals  aim  to  preserve 
the  original  length  of  the  words,  and  accordingly  express  difTcrcnce 
of  signification  by  different  vowels  ;  and  thus  by  rejecting  the  vowel 
system,  we  throw  into  uncertainty  and  confusion  principles  of  inter- 
jjrctation  which  have  been  fixed  by  men  in  every  way  coinjjctcnt  for 
the  work. 

One  of  the  most  perplexing  tasks  of  the  philologist  is  to  correctly 
investigate  and  apply  those  laws  of  euphony  which  regulate  the 
vowel  and  consonant  changes.  This  is  a  most  important  department 
of  his  science,  for  by  it  h.e  is  enabled  to  trace  afFmities  of  languages 
which  otherwise  he  might  never  have  discovered.  Nations,  for 
the  sake  of  eupliouy,  not  only  interchange  letters  in  derivatives  of 
their  own  dialects,  but  in  adopting  words  from  other  languages,  they 
assimilate  them  to  the  genius  of  their  own  by  a  similar  process.* 
Thus  in  all  languages  there  is  a  frequent  interchange  of  /  and  r. 
The  Japanese  pronounce  r  in  the  place  of  /;  with  the  Chinese  it 

•  This  is  especially  practiced  with  proper  names,  as  all  languages,  both 
ancient  and  modern,  clearly  show. 


500  Nordheimer's  Hchrew  Grammar.  [Octdbor, 

is  just  the  reverse.  In  the  Indo-European  languages  several  otiur 
consonants  are  thus  interchangeable.  When  we  consider  the 
importance  of  these  consonant  changes  in  estalilishing  linguistic 
afilnities,  we  regret  that  our  author  has  not  given  us  a  more  full 
and  extended  view  of  the  subject.  The  views  he  has  advanced  are 
uncommonly  clear,  and  his  arrangement  appears  to  be  correct,  and 
wc  only  lament  that  he  has  confined  himself  within  such  narrow 
luiiits,  as  this  appears  to  us  the  place  where  a  more  elaborate  dis- 
sertation on  the  subject  might  have  been  introduced. 

In  treating  of  the  imperfect  letters  our  author  has  displayed  great 
research,  and  has  pointed  out  most  clearly  tlicir  distinctive  pecu- 
liarities. In  view  of  the  influence  these  letters  exert  to  produce 
those  appearances  of  verbs,  which  fonner  gi-ammarians  have  called 
irregularities,  we  would  recommend  an  attentive  perusal  of  this 
chapter  to  liim  wlio  wishes  to  know,  not  only  that  such  peculiarities 
exist,  but  would  also  have  the  reason  philosophically  explained ; 
so  that,  instead  of  burdening  his  memory  with  a  multitude  of  ]iar- 
liculars,  he  may  have  a  few  general  principles  to  which  he  can 
refer  all  seeming  anomalies  for  solution.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
"grammar  is  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  science,  ib.e  study  of  which 
constitutes  a  mental  discipline  of  the  highest  order."  It  is  also 
more  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  age;  for  scholars,  rejecting 
the  old  method  of  learning  languages,  arc  accomplishing  their 
object  with  much  less  labor,  and  with  a  far  greater  amount  of 
mental  cultivation. 

We  now  come  to  the  chapter  on  the  formation  of  words  ;  and 
the  clear  and  ingenious  manner  in  which  he  has  introduced  com- 
parative analogies,  renders  it  peculiarly  interesting,  not  only  to  the 
Hebrew  scholar  hut  also  to  tlie  general  philologist.  A  cert-u"n 
number  of  primitive  words  comprise  the  ultimate  particles  of  speech, 
and  these  words,  in  all  languages,  are  monosyllabic  ;*  for  though  a 
word  in  its  present  form  is  composed  of  a  number  of  syllables,  yet 
wc  fmd  that  one  expresses  the  prominent  idea,  and  that  the  others 
serve  merely  to  modify  its  meaning.  Tliis  is  the  opinion  of  l!ie 
most  eniinenl  scholars,  and  is  almost  universally  adojiled  at  liie 
present  day.     \\'\\\\  regard  to  those  rools  wiiich  sonic  have  con- 

•  Dr.  ^[a^■;ly  cnrries  this  ijpa  to  a  ridiculous  excess  \vlieii  lie  asserts 
that  all  tho  European  languages  arc  formed  from  nine  monusyllaWcs 
endinpt  in  "?• 


ISn.]  Nordhcimcr's  Ilchrcio  Grammar.  501 

sidcrcd  dissyllabic,  Adclung,*  a  disiinguislied  German  philologist, 
asserts  that,  "  Every  word,  without  exception,  may  be  reduced  to 
a  monosyllabic  root,  and  ought  to  be  so  reduced  if  we  wish  to  follow 
the  path  -ivhich  nature  has  traced  out  for  us.  If  the  grammarians, 
who  labored  on  the  Semitic  tongues,  misled  by  a  Wind  regard  for 
rabbinical  authority,  still  hold  to  the  doctrine  of  dissyllabic  roots, 
this  error  only  shows  the  proncness  of  man  toward  every  thing 
complicated  and  intricate,  at  the  expense  of  simplicity  and  the 
clearest  indications  of  nature."  Our  author,  in  investigating  the 
structure  of  Hebrew  roots,  rejecting  that  authority  which  has  misled 
so  many,  gives  us  the  following  general  conclusions  : — 

"^  113.  As  radical  words  are  those  -which  express  the  .simplest 
ideas  without  qualification  or  restriction,  the.y  are  naturally  constructed 
in  the  simyjlcsl  manner,  that  is,  of  the  fev.cst  letters.  In  the  InJo- 
Europcan  lang-uages  these  letters  are  not  restricted  to  any  particular 
iiuinbcr;  in  whicli  respect  they  differ  essentially  from  those  of  the 
Shennsh  family,  whose  roots,  for  the  most  part  verbs,  consisted  as  a 
general  rule,  of  three  consonants  originally  formed  into  a  monosyllable 
by  the  niil  of  the  simplest  vowel,  «,  which  to  facililate  the  pronunciation 
was  given  to  the  second  letter,  and  thus  each  separate  idea  was  express- 
ed by  a  single  impulse  of  the  voice,  rendered  as  distinct  as  possible  by 
botJi  connuencing  and  ending  in  a  vowelless  consonant,  e.  g.,  i~p 
to  hill,  t]";^  to  reign.  The  degree  of  simplicity,  and  even  rudeness, 
manifested  in  this  fundamental  point,  forms  a  striking  proof  of  the  anti- 
quity of  the  languages  in  which  it  obtained.  As,  however,  the  Hebrew 
advanced  in  cultivation,  these  sounds  came  to  be  considered  as  too 
harsh  and  abrupt ;  and,  in  consequence,  a  euphonic  vowel  was  given  to 
the  first  letter,  which  transformed  each  root  into  a  dissyllable,  thus, 

Although  the  majority  of  the  roots  consist  of  three  consonants, 
yet  there  are  a  considerable  number  originally  biliteral,  which,  in 
accordance  with  the  analogy  of  the  language,  have  been  changed 
into  triliterals,  either  by  the  redtiplication  of  one  of  the  existing 
radicals,  or  by  the  addition  of  a  new  one.  Besides  tliis  class  of 
words,  there  arc  a  small  number  which  have  retained  their  original 
length. 

The  comparison  of  personal  pronouns  has  been  considered  one 
of  the  most  important  elements  employed  by  etlinographists  in 
determining  linguistic  affinities.  In  the  chapter  our  author  lias 
devoted  to  personal  pronouns,  we  find  an  extensive  knowledge  of 

*  See  "  Mitluidates,"  vol.  i. 
Vol.  I.— 33 


I 


503  N'ordheirncrs  Hebrew  Grammar.  [October, 

comparative  philology  displayed.  From  the  analogies  here  exhi- 
bited, which  are  foiuided  on  the  surest  of  all  bases,  a  grammatical 
analysis,  \yc  are  more  than  ever  convinced  that  all  existing  idioms 
have  "  originated  in  a  common  source,"  and  that,  consequently,  all 
members  of  the  human  family  have  descended  from  "  a  common 
pai-entage." 

If  \vc  were  to  point  to  anj'  one  particular,  as  denoting  the  ex- 
cellence of  this  grammar,  it  would  be  the  natural  and  systematic 
manner  in  which  the  verb  and  its  various  modifications  have  been 
explained.  In  every  language  this  is  the  most  important  word, 
and,  as  otur  a\ithor  remarks, — 

"§  132.  In  no  language  has  the  verb  a  greater  claim  to  this  sujio- 
rioiiiy  ih;in  in  the  Hebrew  ;  since  here  it  not  only  gives  life  to  dis- 
course by  its  ovm  use  and  signification,  but  likewise  furnishes  the 
principal  elements  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  many  odicr 
words,  as  well  nouns  as  particles  ;  while  the  verb  can  be  considered 
only  in  a  very  few  cases  as  derived  from  any  otber  part  of  speech. 
All  verbs,  therefore,  with  but  a  trifling  number  of  exceptions,  are  to  be 
looked  ujion  as  primitive  words." 

The  verb,  being  the  jmmitiic  word,  in  its  simplest  form,  con- 
sists of  only  three  letters,  termed  radicals ;  consequently,  in  order 
to  express  its  various  significations,  the  root  must  be  modified  by 
means  of  those  letters  termed  serviles. 

In  examining  those  appearances  of  the  Hebrew  verb,  which  some 
grammarians  have  termed  conjugations,  our  author  has  divested 
them  of  their  former  artificial  arrangement,  and  has  given  us  a  class- 
ification which,  though  simple,  embraces  all  the  verbal  peculiarities. 
He  uses  the  tcnn  species,  instead  of  coiijugaiions,  to  express  the 
different  m.odifications  of  the  verb.  We  a])provc  of  the  substitution 
of  this  term  for  the  old  one,  as  many  of  the  difficulties  of  the  Hebrew 
have  resulted  from  the  use  of  a  tcrminolog)-  belonging  to  another 
class  of  languages.  He  has  also  very  properly  rejected  tho?e 
forms,  which  the  grammarians,  who  labored  to  invent  them,  have 
called  unusual;  and  by  phdosopliically  explaining  the  cause  of 
llicir  presenting  such  appearances,  he  has  classed  them  with  the 
usual  species.  Wc  rejoice  at  this,  because  these  forms  have  always 
been  to  the  learner  a  source  of  trouble  and  vexation. 

In  treating  of  tliose  classes  of  verbs  which  grammarians  have 
hitherto  termed  irregular,  but  which  he  very  appropriately  c:ills 
imperfect,  he  has  accomplished  a  difficult  task  in  an  able  manner ; 
32* 


IS  11.]  NorJhcimer''s  llchicw  Grammar.  503 

and  lie  has  reduced  to  comparative  simplicity  what  was  before  a 
complicated  and  artificial  system.  In  order  to  fully  perceive  the 
beauty  of  this  arrangement,  we  must  look  back  to  his  chapter  on 
the  peculiarities  of  the  imperfect  letters  :  for,  as  nearly  all  the 
verbs  whose  radicals  are  perfect  letters  arc  referred  to  the  para- 
digm of  V-?;j,  so,  all  those  whose  radicals  are  imperfect  letters  are 
to  be  classed  under  the  different  forms  of  imperfect  verbs.  Thus 
we  see  that  these  peculiarities  are  not  arbitrary  deviations  from  the 
paradigm  of  the  perfect  verb,  but  arc  to  be  explained  as  resulting 
necessarily  from  the  nature  of  t!ie  impcrfccC  letters.  Those  appa- 
rently anomalous  forms  which  they  sometimes  exhibit,  he  explains 
on  the  supposition  ihat  the  imperfect  verbs  are  formed  from  primary 
biliteral  roots.  He  thus  relieves  lI'C  language  of  a  large  class  of, 
so  called,  irregular  forms,  and  reduces  them  to  a  strictly  philo- 
sophical classification. 

To'  elucidate  clcarl}^  and  arrange  accurately  all  the  appearances 
of  the  Hebrew  noun,  is  a  task  attended  with  many  difficulties. 
These  residt,  in  a  measure,  from  the  fact  of  so  many  of  the  nouns 
being  derivatives ;  and  they  have  been  increased  rather  than  re- 
moved by  the  labors  of  preceding  grammarians.  For  there  is  no 
proprietor  in  introducing  so  many  declensions  into  a  language, 
wliich,  to  express  the  relations  of  nouns,  does  not  make  use  of 
different  modifications,  as  these  relations  (except  instances  of  nouns 
in  the  construct  state)  are  denoted  by  particles.  Professor  Lee,  of 
Cambridge,  England,  and  Professor  Bush,  of  this  city,  have  re- 
jected the  old  system  of  declensions,  yet  have  offered  us  nothing  in 
its  place.  This  lc:ivcs  tlie  matter  too  indefinite,  and  we  prefer  a 
defective  classification  to  none  at  all.  Our  author,  casting  liimself 
loose  from  all  dependence  upon  the  labors  of  others,  has  given  us 
an  anangcmcnt  of  the  noun  both  simple  and  complete,  and  in 
accordance  with  tlie  general  principles  of  the  language.  Though, 
at  the  first  view,  his  system  may  seem  to  be  in  a  measure  compli- 
cated, it  will  be  found  that  tin's  results  from  the  nature  of  the  subject, 
and  not  from  any  arbitrary  forms  he  has  introduced. 

His  remarks  on  the  definite  article,  the  demonstrative,  relative, 
and  interrogative  projiouns,  and,  the  interrogative  and  directive 
particles,  are  ingenious,  and  he  gives  us  a  striking  and  original 
view  of  the  common  origin  of  these  words.  He  clearly  demon- 
strates that  thev  are  all  derived  from  the  verb  of  existence  ITin=rT:n. 


504  No)-dkcimrr''s  Hehrew  Grammar.  [October, 

Thus  tlie  definite  article,  wliich  is  usually  represented  as  consisting 
originally  of  llic  word  in,  corresponding  to  the  Ai'abic,  is  to  be 
traced  to  the  personal  pronoun  K"n  liC,  it,  which  is  itself  derived 
from  mn=ri-;n.  Wc  will  quote  ihc  concluding  paragraph  of  this 
section  on  account  of  tlie  clear  view  it  gives  us  of  the  origin  of  the 
name  JKHovAn. 

"It  is  higlily  worthy  of  remark  that  the  syllable  riT  or  r;-^,  (i  when 
it  occurs  as  the  first  letter  of  a  verbal  root,  being  changed  into  its 
cognate  semi-vowel  \)  whicli  signifies  existence,  when  reduplicated  in 
the  word  n^T^  donates  tcistcncc  of  all  existence,  self-existence,  God." 

This  point  has  been  long  contested  both  by  infidels  and  Ncolo- 
gists  ;  some  have  asserted  that  Moses  derived  tiiis  name  from  the 
Egyptians,  while  others  have  contended  for  its  Indian  origin.  But 
the  view  our  author  has  given  of  the  origin  of  this  name,  founded, 
as  it  is,  on  siu'e  grammatical  principles,  must  be  considered  as  con- 
clusive, lie  proceeds  in  his  investigation  of  the  origin  of  the  words 
already  alluded  to,  and  satisfactorily  proves  their  derivation  from 
that  most  imjtortant  clement  of  speech,  the  verb  of  existence. 

Home  Tookc  says,  that  the  first  aim  of  language  was  to  com- 
municate our  thoughts  ;  the  second,  to  do  it  with  dispatch.  Hence 
wc  find  that  the  more  highly  cidtivatcd  a  language  is,  the  more  it 
aboimds  in  particles.  In  the  earhcst  ages  of  society  language  was 
deficient  in  this  particular,  and  all  the  relations  of  words  and  sen- 
tences must  have  been  expressed  in  an  indefinite  manner.  As 
language  became  more  cultivated  and  artificial,  accuracy  as  well 
as  dispatch  was  sought  for ;  hence  there  was  a  gradual  formation 
of  that  class  of  words  called  particles.  The  Hebrew  lias  but  a 
moderate  number  of  them,  and  in  accordance  with  the  views  just 
mentioned,  they  are  foimd  to  be,  for  the  most  part,  derivatives. 
Thus  vmio  conjunctive,  which  has  been  fancifully  supposed  to 
derive  its  connecting  power  from  tlie  meaning  of  its  name,  (ti, 
a  Jiook,)  our  author  refers  to  niri=n';n,  as  its  origin.  The  first 
volume  closes  with  these  original  views  of  the  derivation  and  use 
of  the  particles. 

Wc  will  now  proceed  to  examine  the  second,  which  contains  the 
results  of  liis  labors  upon  the  syntax  and  prosody  of  the  Hebrew. 
lie  has  given  us  a  beautiful  and  sj'stcmatic  development  of  these 
subjects,  with  which  so  many  difiiculties  are  comiected,  and  has 
succeeded  in  explaining  the  internal  stracture  of  the  language  on 


1811.]  Nordhcimcr''s  Jlchrew  Grammar.  505 

principles  which  no  other  grammarian  has  attempted  to  apply. 
The  .syntactical  con.=truction  of  the  Hebrew  depends  upon  laws  so 
primitive  in  their  character,  and  so  different  from  those  which 
regulate  corresponding  relations  in  the  Indo-Gcrmanic  family,  that 
grammarians,  in  undertaking  their  explanation  upon  analogical  prin- 
ciples, have  most  signally  failed.  It  is  true  that  some  syntactical 
analogies  appear  to  be  common  to  the  Semitic  and  to  the  Indo- 
Gcnnanic  tongues,  yet  not  sullicient  to  derive  from  them  any 
general  principles  of  comparison.  Our  author,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  errors  of  former  grammarians,  was  obliged  to  reject  all  servile 
dependence  upon  their  labors,  and  form  for  himself  a  plan  of  pro- 
cedure, founded  on  the  general  principles  of  language.  The 
original  research  he  has  bestowed  upon  the  subject,  and  the  com- 
plete success  llial  has  crowned  his  labors,  are  clearly  seen  upon  an 
examination  of  this  volume. 

In  the  introduction  he  gives  the  general  principles  upon  which 
an  investigation  of  the  syntax  of  the  Hebrew  should  be  conducted. 
The  modes  of  treatment  to  which  it  has  hitherto  been  subjected  he 
designates  by  the  terms,  ohjecfwe  and  subjective.  He  then  \cjy 
clearly  proves  that,  in  the  present  state  of  philology,  neither  of 
these  modes  can  lead  to  satisfactory  results.  By  the  former,  or 
objective  plan,  the  grammarian's  progi-ess  is  facilitated,  yet  he  cannot 
Jiave  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  whole  language,  and,  conse- 
quently, many  important  phenomena  are  either  entirely  neglected 
or  presented  in  an  erroneous  point  of  view.  The  opposite  method, 
wliile  it  presents  many  of  the  internal  features  of  the  language  in  a 
striking  and  accurate  light,  at  the  same  lime  causes  the  gTammarian 
to  overlook  important  facts,  and  leads  him  to  advance  theories 
which  the  genius  of  the  language  will  not  support.  Hence  our 
author,  in  order -to  avoid  the  errors  of  these  extremes,  formed  for 
himself  a  system  of  investigation,  and  has,  by  means  of  it,  ex- 
plained the  syntactical  structure  of  the  Hebrew  as  dependent  upon 
laws  simple  and  primitive  in  their  character. 

The  sj'ntax  of  a  language  necessarily  presents  to  the  grammarian 
ajipcarances  more  complicated  and  difficult  of  explanation  tlian  the  • 
etymology-.  For,  in  investigating  the  etymological  forms,  he  has 
merely  to  observe  the  external  features  of  speech,  the  formation  of 
v.'ords,  and  the  various  changes  which  they  tmdergo.  But  when 
he  attempts  to  discover  the  relations  of  these  words  to  each  other, 


506  Nm-dlicimn-^s  Hebrew  Grammar.    '         [October, 

aiid  to  investigate  the  structure  of  sentences  with  all  their  moJi- 
fications  and  restrictions,  he  liiid:^  that  he  must  enter  upon  rui 
examination  of  "  the  laws  whicli  regulate  the  entire  structure  of 
language."  Proceeding  upon  the  principles  which  he  has  laid 
down  in  the  introduction,  our  author  has  treated  the  subject  philo- 
sophically, and  has  clearly  shown  that  the  syntax  of  the  Hebrew, 
although  wanting  many  of  the  forms  peculiar  to  the  Indo-Germanic 
family,  yet  possesses  a  high  degree  of  accuracy  in  the  expression 
of  propositions, 

In  his  chapter  on  the  construction  of  sentences  he  exhibits  their 
various  relations  in  an  accurate  light,  arid  clearly  shows  the  primi- 
tive simplicity  of  the  Hebrew  mode  of  expressing  both  simple  and 
compound  propositions.  Passing  by  the  article,  we  come  to  a  full 
and  well-arranged  chapter  on  agreement.  This  depai'tment  of 
syntax  has  generally  been  considered  as  abounding  in  anomalies  ; 
and,  when  we  look  at  the  deviations  from  the  regular  form,  we  do 
Jiol  ^^•o^.der  tliat  grammarians  have  failed  of  properly  explaining 
the  cause  of  these  peculiarities.  Our  author,  bj'  investigating 
those  principles  which  regulate  the  internal  structure  of  spcecli, 
has  been  able  to  show  the  ultimate  cause  of  such  deviations. 
Thus  lie  gives  us  the  following  general  rules,  to  which  all  instances 
of  llic  neglect  of  gender  or  number  can  be  referred  : — "  1.  As  the 
masculine  singular  is  the  simplest  form  of  a  word,  and  as,  more- 
over, the  masculine  gender  is  the  most  prominent  in  its  use,  we 
sometimes  find  the  'masculine  Jorm  employed  ivhen  the  feminine 
might  have  hccn  expected,  but  not  the  contrary.  2.  Again,  as 
the  singular  form  of  words  is  simpler  than  the  plural,  a  plural 
noun  is  so?nctimcs  construed  in  the  singular,  but  not  the  contrary." 
These  nouns,  fiv";s  God,  i3-s«  Lord,  '■Ti  Almighty,  when  used 
as  names  of  the  only  and  true  God,  arc  put  in  the  plmal  to  denote 
superior  dignity  and  pre-eminence,*  (hence  they  are  usually  termed 
pluralia  excellcntice,)  but  are  to  be  construed  logically  in  the 
singular. 

*  V.'c  lliiiik  V  itli  oiir  author  (rind  t!ie  younger  BiixLorf  was  of  tlic  s:iiiit'. 
opinion)  that  these  luvins  were  used  only  to  designate  the  excelling  power  and 
m.ijesty  of  the  one  God.  Some  have  attemiilcd  to  show  that  by  these  fixiues- 
sions  the  existence  of  the  Trinitij  was  prefigured.  Tliis  tublime  and  myste- 
rious  doctrine  is  plainly  revealed  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  wo  see  no  need 
of  attempting  to  add  to  those  express  declarations  arguments,  which  gramnca- 
tical  analogy  will  not  sustain. 


1841.]  Nordheiincr''s  Ilehrcio  Grammar.  507 

In  treating  of  llic  syntax  of  llie  adjective,  lie  has  clearly  ex- 
])laiiicd  tlie  peculiar  manner  in  which  the  relation  of  comparison  is 
expressed.  Yet  it  ajjpears  to  us  that  there  is  no  necessity  for  the 
distinction  he  makes  of  relative  and  absolute  superlative.  For, 
from  the  very  nature  of  the  superlative,  being  a  degree  of  compari- 
son, it  can  only  be  relative.  That  form  which  he  calls  the  absolute 
superlative  expresses  an  intensity  of  meaning,  and  in  Hebrew  is 
denoted  by  placing  the  noun  in  construction  widi  an  appellation  of 
tlie  Deity,  e.  g.,  S%'niis  "^IblP??  most  iwiccrful  iurcstli7}gs.  Gen.  xxx, 
8,  {great  lurcstlings,  our  version  has  it.)  In  such  cases  the  object 
is,  not  to  denote  tlic  relation  of  comparison,  but  to  express  the 
existence  of  the  quality  in  a  high  degree.  Hence  we  prefer  to 
consider  tliis  merely  as  an  intensive  form  of  the  adjective.*  Tliis 
may  seem  to  be  a  matter  of  little  consequence,  yet  in  a  grammatical 
work  all  arbitrary  or  mmecessary  distinctions  should  be  avoided. 

Tiie  cliapters  on  the  relations  of  nouns  to  each  other,  and  their 
objective  and  subjective  relations  to  verbs,  we  speak  of  only  to 
admire  the  perspicuity  and  clearness  with  which  he  has  treated 
the  subject.  From  liis  view  of  these  relations  we  perceive  how 
erroneous  it  is  to  apply  to  Hebrew  nouns  tlie  grammatical  tcrmino- 
log}'  of  the  Indo-Germanic  languages.  For  we  find  that  the  Se- 
mhic  tongues  indicate  these  relations  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  them- 
selves. This  is  done  by  the  use  of  prepositions,  or  by  tlie  position 
of  the  nouns,  so  as  not  to  require  a  change  of  termination.  Sucli 
an  arrangement  gives  tlie  language  a  less  artificial,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  more  natural  and  primitive  appearance.  The  syntax  of  the 
pronouns  is  a  subject  of  great  interest  to  the  Hebrew  scliolar. 
The  important  part  the}'  have  to  act  in  the  enunciation  of  proposi- 
tions, the  appearances  they  present  when  affixed  to  other  words, 
and  the  modifications  of  meaning  they  receive,  require  that  their 
relations  should  be  accurately  investigated  and  critically  explained. 
Our  author  has  accomplislied  this  in  that  masterly  manner  which 
characterizes  all  his  labors. 

*  This  relation  is  also  expressed  by  prefixing  to  one  of  llic  names  of  the 
Deity  the  preposition  ^  or  'i:sii,  e.  g.,  nVO  "'r.?^  T;?"'^"'^^,  a  most  mighty 
hunter.  Gen.  x,  9.  (Our  version  renders  it,  the  mighty  hunter  Icfore  the 
Lurtl.)  Tliis  idiom  occurs  in  the  Hellenistic  or  New  Testament  Greek,  as 
fiuatoi  uji<l)u7cpoi  cvuTTtov  roB  Geoi",  loth  righteous  before  God,  i.  c.,  vcri/  righte- 
ous. Luke  i,  6.     The  same  form  is  used  in  the  Romaic  or  modern  Greek. 


508  Nordheimcr's  Hebrew  Grammar.  [October, 

Wc  come  now  to  the  syntax  of  that  most  important  element  of 
language,  the  verb.  All  ^\•ho  have  entered  upon  the  investigation 
of  this  subject  have  found  in  it  difficulties  almost  insurmountable, 
especially  as  regards  the  forms  used  to  indicate  the  time  in  which 
an  action  takes  place.  The  Hebrew  presents  the  peculiarity  of  a 
language  with,  strictly  speaking,  only  two  temporal  forms  ;  the 
preterite,  as  b^p,  and  the  future,  as  ^wh":-  Some,  in  order  to 
avoid  the  difficulties  of  the  subject,  have  called  these  forms  first 
and  second  modes.  In  this  way,  they  represent  the  Hebrew  as 
altogether  destitute  of  tenses,  and  as  expressing  the  relations  of 
time  in  a  very  indefinite  and  uncertain  manner.  Our  author,  be- 
fore entering  into  the  details  of  the  subject,  gives  us  some  prelimi- 
nary remarks,  1st,  with  respect  to  time  abstractly  considered,  or 
^vhat  wc  would  designate  as  time  applicable  to  universal  language  ; 
and  2dly,  on  the  mode  in  which  time  is  specified  in  the  Hebrew. 
His  views  npon  the  first  point  are  so  original  and  striking,  that  we 
will  quote  them  entire. 

"'§  951.  Time,  considered  abstractedly,  and  without  reference  to 
the  manner  in  wliich  it  is  spocifiod  in  language,  may  be  said  lo  con- 
sist of  a  constant  flow  or  succession  of  moments,  whose  beginning  and 
end  arc  lost  in  eternity.  Tliis  uninterrupted  and  endless  scries  of 
instants  may,  not  unapUy,  be  compared  to  a  straight  line  continued 
ad  infnitinn,  which  is  not  susceptible  of  specification  in  its  whole 
extent,  but  which,  by  the  assumption  of  a  point  in  any  part  of  it,  is 
immediately  converted  into  two  lines  branching  ofl'  from  such  point  in 
opposite  directions.     Thus,  let  us 

suppose  A  B  to  bo  a  strainht  line      _i^ •? 5_ 

proceeding  from  left  to  riglit,  and 

representing  yn  indefinite  extent  of  time.  If  we  now  assume  in  it  a 
point  C  to  represent  the  present,  that  portion  of  the  line  extending 
from  C  in  the  direction  of  A  v/ill  represent  past  time,  and  that  from  G 
in  the  ojiposite  direction  11  will  represent /uterf  time.  From  this  we 
see  tlial  the  times  called  past  and  future  are  purely  relative,  and  depend 
tor  their  delernunation  on  the  position  of  the  moment  called  the  pre- 
sent ;  so  that  on  shitting  this  last  they  may  be  mutually  converted,  the 
past  into  lunire,  and  the  future  into  past  time.  Thus,  to  return  to  our 
ilhistraiinn,  if  C  be  taken  as  the  present,  C  A  will  represent  all  past, 
and  C"  1)  uU  future  time:  but  if  wc 

shift  tliis  jiuint  back  to  (7,  the  por-     .A ''  c  <■ n_ 

tiou  of  time  C  </  which  was  bei'ore 

past  will  now  be  liilure  ;  and  by  advancing  it  to  c,  the  portion  of  time 

Ce  will  be  converted  from  fnture  into  past." 

"  §  955.  The  {)oint  of  lime  called  the  present  is  practically  estab- 
lished by  a  speaker  or  writer  in  two  different  ways  : — 1st.  It  is  often 


1S41.]  Nordheimcr's  Hebreio  Grammar.  509 

taciilv  fixod  bv  the  time  of  narration,  so  that  all  events  spoken  of  as 
past,  nuli-ss  olhcruiso  specified,  are  iindcrstooJ  to  have  taken  place 
anterior  lu  the  time  of  narration,  and  all  those  spoken  of  as  future  are 
considered  as  subsequent  to  such  period.  The  lenses  whose  import 
is  thus  established  by  the  time  of  narration  itself  may  be  termed,  for 
convenience"  sake,  the  absolute  prctrntc  z\v\  future.  2dly.  Events  may 
also  be  speeiiied  as  to  time  with  relation  to  some  other  period  expressly 
intimated  ;  in  which  case  those  spoken  of  as  past  arc  imderstood  to 
lake  place  anterior  to  snch  period,  and  those  as  future  subsequent 
thereto  ;  the  tenses  employed  in  this  connection  we  shall  name  the 
relative  past  and  future." 

In  tlic  Indo-Gcrnianic  languages  we  find  tlinl  the  present  is  not 
restricted  to  a  mere  point  of  time,  but  is  extended  so  as  to  require 
a  separate  form  to  designate  it ;  so  that  they  have  three  absolute 
tenses,  and  tlirce  corresponding  relative  ones.  The  use  of  the 
temporal  forms  of  the  Hebrew  is  more  strictly  pliilosophical ;  at 
the  sime  time  llieir  construction  is  much  more  simple.  The  two 
absolute  fornis  V^P,  and  Jujj';  being  modified  by  the  jiarticle  1,  {laaw, 
convcrsivc,)  give  rise  to  two  others,  bui:3l  and  ^apvi,  wliich,  when 
used  in  connection  with  the  absolute  tenses,  are  respectively  termed 
relative  future  and  relative  past.  His  extended  explication  of  the 
forms,  illustrated  by  a  citation  of  passages  in  which  they  occur, 
will  convince  the  Hebrew  scliolar  that  there  is  not  an  indiscrimi- 
nate use  of  the  tenses,  nor  a  want  of  distinction  between  them,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  he  will  perceive  that  they  are  employed  in  a  defi- 
nite way  and  subject  to  fixed  rules,  so  that  in  no  instance  need 
there  be  doubt  or  uncertainly  as  to  their  signification.  As  the 
modes  of  the  Hebrew  verb  present  neither  as  many  difficulties  nor 
peculiarities  .as  the  tenses,  and,  moreoTer,  as  grammarians  are 
more  united  m  llieir  views  of  them,  we  will  not,  at  this  time, 
attempt  to  enter  into  the  ntcrits  of  the  subject.  Wc  can  only 
speak  of  the  chapter  on  the  verbal  modes  in  terms  of  general 
commcndf.tion. 

It  would  be  improper  to  omit  to  notice  the  extended  view  he  has 
taken  of  the  different  particles ;  and  considering  the  important  part 
the)'  liave  to  act  in  expressing  the  relations  of  words  and  in  modi- 
fying the  meanings  of  propositions,  wc  rejoice  that  he  has  bestowed 
so  much  laborious  research  upon  their  investigation.  The  trans- 
lators of  our  version  of  the  Eible,  in  many  instances,  seem  to  have 
misapprehended  the  relative  power  of  some  of  the  particles.  Thus 
the  inseparable  particle  i.,  called  ivaio  conjunctive,  has  almost  inva- 


510  No>-dhci>ncr''s  Hclrew  Grammar.  [October, 

riably  been  rendered  and;  bat,  if  we  examine  its  nature  and  origin, 
we  find  that  it  corresponds  to  oilier  English  particles,  and  it  mus: 
often  be  rendered  by  a  circumlocutory  expression.  Hence  the 
critical  acumen  and  discernment  here  displayed  will  be  properly 
appreciated  by  the  Biblical  student. 

The  remainder  of  the  volume  is  devoted  to  an  examination  of 
the  ])rosody  of  the  language.  In  this  place  he  gives  us  a  brief 
view  of  the  characteristics  of  Hebrew  poetry  which  distinguish  it 
from  prose.  Perhaps  no  subject  in  the  whole  range  of  literature 
lias  been  more  fully  discussed  than  this.  So  many  visionary 
tlu'oiios  have  been  advocated,  and  so  many  contradictory  views 
Mijjptirkil,  that  it  was  supposed  impossible  to  discover  its  true 
nature  and  the  laws  which  regulate  its  construction.  Josephus 
atlirnis  that  the  songs  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Exodus,  and  in 
the  lliirty-lhird  of  Deuteronomy,*  are  written  in  hexameter  verses; 
al.-;o  tiiai  Davidt  composed  songs  both  in  trimeterj  and  pentameter. 
I'liilo  asserted  that  the  Hebrew  had  metre  resembling  that  used 
by  the  classic  poets.  Origen,  Eusebius,  and  Jerome  were  of  the 
.-amc  opinion.  Tliis  view  of  the  subject  has  been  ably  refuted  by 
.1.  Scaliger  and  other  eminent  scholars.  But  the  matter  was  not 
fully  investigated  ;  and  since  that  period  many  attempts  have  been 
made  to  restore  the  lost  versification  of  the  Hebrew.  It  would 
rccjiiire  a  more  extended  notice  than  we  are  able  in  this  place  to 
give,  to  examine  the  merits  of  the  numerous  theories  which  have 
been  proposed.     We  will,  however,  refer  to  a  few. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  cenluiy  Gomar  published 
his  '•■  L3'ra  Davidis,"  in  which  he  attempts  to  prove  that  the  Hebrew 
jiocts  used  both  metre  and  rhyme.  Le  Clerc  advanced  the  most 
absurd  of  all  hypotheses,  that  rhyme  was  the  only  characteristic  of 
ihcir  poetry.  The  learned  Bishop  Hare  also  endeavored  to  find  in 
the  ])octr)-  of  the  ancient  Hebrews  those  external  decorations  of 
metre  and  rhythm  employed  by  the  classic  poets.  His  metrical 
system  attracted  much  attention,  perhaps  less  on  account  of  its 
intriu'iic  merits  than  from  the  able  manner  in  which  it  was  refuted 
by  Bishop  Lowlh.     This  learned  prelate  has  bestowed  great  labor 

*  Sec  his  "Antiquities,"  lib.  ii,  c.  Hi,  \  4,  and  lib.  iv,  c.  &,  \  11. 

f  Ibid.,  lib.  vii,  f.  13,  {3. 

X  Our  author,  by  a  strai'igc  mistake,  calls  this  tetrameter. 


1641.]  NonUicimer''s  Hebrew  Ch-mnmar.  511 

and  research  upon  the  suljjcct,*  and  ihc  views  he  has  advanced 
have  been  generally  addpled  by  the  most  distinguished  Tlelirew 
scholars.  He  very  clearly  shows  that  the  main  ciiaraclcristic  of 
Hebrew  poetry  is  its  rhythm,t  or  more  pai-ticularl)^  a  species  of 
rhythm  in  wliicli  a  harmonious  arrangement  of  the  larger  clauses 
of  the  verse  is  found,  and  which  is  denominated  pacaZ/e/Zsm.  This 
lias  been  divided  into, 

I.  "  Syno7iymous,X  in  which  the  second  clause  is  entirely  or 
almost  a  repetition  of  tlie  first. 

II.  Antithetic,  in  which  the  second  clause  is  the  converse  of 
the  first. 

III.  Synthetic,  in  wliich  the  idea  contained  in  the  first  clause 
is  further  developed  in  the  succeeding  ones." 

This  arrangement  our  autlior  adopts,  and  die  subdivisions  he  lias 
given  under  each  head  will  present  to  the  scholar  a  clear  and  suc- 
cinct account  of  the  general  construction  of  Hebrew  poetry.  His 
view.s  on  the  subject  are  iir  the  main  correct,  but  we  dissent  from 
the  opinion  that  the  Hebrew  poet  never  submitted  to  dictation  with 
regard  cither  to  the  number  of  words  or  syllables  in  his  verses,  or 
to  their  endings.  Wc  are  willing  to  resign  all  hopes  of  ever  know- 
ing the  character  of  the  metre  which  the  Hebrew  poets  employed ; 
but  that  they  made  iise  of  some  kind  of  metre  is  evident  from  the 
following  considerations: — 1.  A  large  part  of  their  poetry  was 
lyric,  and  used  in  the  temple  service,  accompanied  with  musical 
instruments ;  consequently  tJiere  must  have  been  a  regular  measure 
and  harmonious  arrangement  of  words.  2.  The  use  of  certain 
particles,  which  gi-ammarians  call  paragogic  or  redundant,  and 
which  seldom  occur  in  prose  composhions,  appears  to  form  a  dis- 
tinct poetic  dialect.  3.  The  arrangement  of  the  alphabetical  poems 
very  clearly  proves  the  existence  of  metre.     On  this  point  Bishop 

*  Ilis  views  are  embodied  in  his  Lectures  on  "  Hebrew  Poetry,"  and  in  tlie 
"Preliininarj' Dissertation"  prefixed  to  his  translation  of  Isaiah. 

f  Tho  learned  bishop  mcnlions  three  other  characteristics,  but  the  attention 
of  modern  investigators  is  chiefly  directed  to  that  of  parallelism. 

J  Bishop  Jcbb,  in  his  "  Sacred  Literature,"  substitutes  cognate  for  synomj- 
mons,  and  assigns  satisfactory  reasons  for  the  change.  A  later  writer  has 
proposed  the  term  gradational  parallelisrii,  as  more  applicable  to  the  exaui[iles 
usually  cited. 


512  Nordlicimcr^s  llehretv  Granunar.  [Octobci-, 

Lowth*  says,  "  Wc  may  safely  conclude  that  the  poems  perfectly 
ulplinbcticalt  consist  of  verses  properly  so  called;  of  versos  regii- 
laied  by  some  observation  of  harmony  or  cadence,  of  measure, 
numbers,  or  rhytlnn.  For  it  is  not  at  all  probable  from  the  nature 
of  the  thing,  or  from  examples  of  like  kind  in  other  languages,  that 
a  portion  of  mere  prose,  in  which  numbers  and  harmony  are  totally 
disregarded,  should  be  laid  out  according  to  a  scale  of  division 
which  carries  with  it  such  evident  marks  of  study  and  labor  ;  of  art 
ia  the  conti'ivance,  and  exactness  in  the  execution."  Do  Wctte|  is 
of  the  opinion  that  the  accents  justify  the  presumption  that  a 
rliytlimioal  system,  different  from  mere  parallelism,  existed.  Sir 
\^'illiam  .Tones^  adduces  the  metrical  arrangement  of  Arabic  poetry 
as  a  proof  of  the  existence  of  metre  in  the  Hebrew.  This  distin- 
guished Oriental  scholar  attempted  to  form  a  metrical  system  for 
the  Hebrew  from  those  now  employed  in  the  Arabic  and  cognate 
languages.  But  while  we  think  that  metre  was  an  essential  part 
of  the  poetry  of  the  ancient  Hebrews,  we  readily  acknowledge  that 
parallelism  was  an  important  characteristic.  And  as  tlic  correct 
jiromuiciation  of  the  language  has  been  so  long  lost,  we  regard  all 
atliMujils  to  restore  the  metre  visionary,  and  from  the  very  nature 
of  the  case  they  must  be  unsuccessful. 

Tlic  origin  and  nature  of  the  accents  lias  been  a  subject  of  almo.>t 
as  much  controversy  as  the  vowel  points.  Modern  grammarians 
arc  generally  miited  in  the  opinion  that  they  are  of  recent  origin, 
and  tl)at  they  v.-ere  introduced  into  the  system  of  Hebrew  ortho- 
graphy for  tlie  purj:iose  of  accurately  pointing  out  the  relations  of 
words  and  sentences.  These  relations  our  author  distinguishes  as 
logical  and  rhythmical,  and  by  such  a  distinction  he  is  enabled  to 
cxplaiu  the  reason  of  their  number,  as  well  as  of  the  variety  and 
intricacy  of  their  powers.  The  Hebrew  accentual  system  has 
nothing  con-esponding  to  it  in  any  other  language.  On  this  account 
grannuarians  have  found  so  many  difficulties  connected  with  the 

*  .Sec-  his  '•  Preliminary  Bisscrtatinn"  to  Isaiah.  This  opinion  is  of  the 
inori-  ronscquftnce,  because  lie  here  gives  us  his  final  views  of  the  subject. 

t  Of  the  twelve  al|iliabclical  poems,  tlirce  are  perfectly  so,  viz.,  i'salins  c\\ 
and  cxii,  and  Lament,  iii. 

X-^ca  his  "  Einleilung  in  die  Psalmcn,"  translated  by  Professor  Tovrcy  for 
the  Pihlical  Repository,  vol.  iv. 

}  See  his  "Dissertation  on  the  Asiatic  Poetry." 


]sll.]  Nordheimer^s  Hchrcio  Grammar.  513 

siilijcct,  and  have  allogcllicr  failed  of  explaining  ils  peculiarities. 
Hence  many  liave  asserted  that  the  accents  were  of  but  little  im- 
portance, and  that  for  all  the  assistance  they  aflbrd  in  the  inter- 
jiretation  of  the  Bible  they  mighl  as  well  be  omitted.  Such  a 
view  of  their  value  is  entirely  erroneous,  and  has  resulted  from 
ignorance  of  the  .system,  and  from  inability  to  explain  its  various 
relations.  Our  author,  on  the  contrary,  thinks  that  the  accents  are 
of  very  great  importance  for  solving  exegelical  difficulties.  This 
was  also  the  opinion  of  the  early  Jewish  grammarians.  Thus 
Aben  Ezra  says,  that  "  you  should  not  be  satisfied  with  any  expo- 
sition not  made  according  to  the  purport  or  meaning  of  the  ac- 
cents."* And  an  examination  of  our  author's  views  of  the  accentual 
system  will  convince  the  scliolar  that  a  knowledge  of  its  relations 
is  of  essential  importance  to  an  interpreter  of  the  sacred  writers. 

After  a  careful  investigation  of  the  work  before  us,  and  from  a 
comparison  of  its  leading  features  with  the  views  of  others,  we 
pronounce  it  to  be  the  most  comj)leie  and  accurately  developed 
gi-ammar  of  the  Hebrew  that  has  ever  been  presented  to  the  ptiblic.f 
The  author  has  shown  us  that  philology  is  itself  "  the  science  of 
the  human  mind,"  and  that  the  laws  which  regulate  the  entire 
structure  of  language  are  greatly  modified  by  the  peculiar  con- 
formation of  the  mass  of  the  nation  to  whom  it  belongs.  Upon 
this  principle  the  intricacies  of  the  language  are  solved,  the  diffi- 
culties in  a  great  measure  removed,  and  all  arbitrary  distinctions 
rejected.  The  clearness  with  which  all  these  features  are  deve- 
loped renders  it  a  most  suitable  text-book  for  the  beginner,  and  the 
advanced  scholar  will  find  in  it  many  things  to  admire.  We  be- 
lieve the  work  is  calculated  to  facilitate  the  study  of  the  original 
Scripture,  and  thereby  promote  the  glory  of  God,  and  extend  the 
knowledge  of  his  word.  With  these  views  of  its  value,  we  com- 
mend it  to  those  who,  not  "  mistaking  ignorance  for  sanctity,"  de- 
sire to  clearly  miderstand  the  gi-eat  truths  God  has  revealed. 

New -York,  Maij  \st,  1611. 

*  This  is  qiiotr.d  by  Buxtorf,  in  his  "  Thesaurus  Grammaticus  Linguae 
SancliE  Ilebraea-."' 

t  Since  tlie  ciJtivation  of  Hebrew  literature  among  Christians,  more  ihin 
six  hundred  grammars  of  the  language  have  been  published. 


514  Lifu  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.Crahhe.  [October, 

AiiT.  II.— The  Lifv  and  Poems  of  Rev.  George  Crabbe,  LL.B. 

[Concluded  from  page  471.] 

Having  given  a  rapid  siictch  of  Mr.  Crabbe's  literary  life,  wc 
now  come  to  the  coiisidcratioa  of  liis  poetical  works.  These 
we  shall  present  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  given  to  the 
world.  His  first  considerable  poem,  which  was  published  in  1781, 
is  entitled  "  The  Library."  It  opens  witli  the  remark  that  the 
pleasures  of  life  arc  not  capable  of  driving  sorrows  from  the  heart 
biu'dencd  with  grief,  and  lliat  this  can  only  be  done  by  substituting 
a  lighter  kind  of  distress  for  its  own. 

Our  first  extract  from  lids  poem  is  the  passage  in  which  the 
arrangement  of  the  books  is  indicated. 

"  Lo  !  all  in  siloncc,  rdl  in  order  stand, 
The  mighty  folios  first,  a  lordly  band  ; 
Then  quartos  their  wcll-ordcr"d  ranks  maintain, 
And  lighl  octavos  fill  a  spacious  plain  : 
See  yonder,  rani^ed  in  more  frequented  rows. 
An  humbler  band  of  duodecimos. 
■\Vliile  iuidisiiii:,aiish'd  trifles  swell  the  scene. 
The  I'l^t  new  play,  and  fritter'd  magazine. 
Thus  'tis  ill  life,  where  first  the  proud,  the  great, 
In  leagued  assembly  keep  their  cumbrous  state  ; 
Heavy  and  huge,  they  fill  the  world  with  dread. 
Are  much  admired,  and  are  but  little  read: 
The  commons  next,  a  middle  rank,  arc  found; 
Professions  fruitful  pour  their  offspring  round  ; 
Reasoncrs  and  wits  are  next  their  place  allow'd. 
And  last  of  vulgar  tribes  a  countless  crowd." 

Divinity,  medicine,  law, — each  has  due  consideration  in  the 
arrangeiiicnl  of  the  Library.  Nor  arc  the  stage  and  the  old  romance 
writers  forgotten  ;  from  th.e  latter  of  whom  the  author  brushes  off 
the  dust  whicli  lias  disgracefully  galliorcd  on  their  heads,  and  sums 
lip  their  wondrous  talcs  of  giants  and  of  dread  in  one  admirable 
paragraph.  Wc  make  but  one  other  extract  from  this  poem,  w^liicli 
we  commend  as  nuicli  for  its  truth  as  for  its  poetic  excellence.  It 
occurs  in  remarks  ujion  the  theological  department  of  the  Library. 

"  Methiiiks  I  sec,  and  sicken  at  the  sight. 
Spirits  of  spleen  from  yonder  pile  alight ; 
Spirits  who  prompted  every  damning  page, 
"With  poiitilT  pride,  and  still  increasing  rage. 
Lo  how  thry  stretch  their  gloomy  wings  around, 
And  lash  with  furious  strokes  the  trembling  ground ! 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  515 

They  pray,  llic)-  figbt,  llicy  mmdcv,  and  they  weep, — 
Wolves  in  iheir  vengeance,  in  their  inanners  shcej) ; 
Too  well  ihey  act  the  pmphel's  fatal  part, 
Dcnouncinn-  evil  witli  a  zealous  heart ; 
And  each,  like  Jonas,  is  displeased  if  God 
Repent  his  anger,  or  withhohl  his  rod. 

"  But  here  tlie  dormant  fury  rests  unsought, 
And  Zeal  sleeps  soundly  liy  the  foes  she  fought ; 
Here  all  the  rage  of  controversy  inds. 
And  rival  zealots  rest  like  hosoni  friends. 
An  Athanasian  here,  in  deep  repose. 
Sleeps  with  the  fiercest  of  his  Arian  foes  ; 
Socinians  here  with  Calvinists  abide. 
And  thin  parlitions  angry  chiefs  divide  ; 
Here  wily  Jesuits  simple  Quakers  meet, 
And  Bellarniino  has  rest  at  Luther's  feet. 
Great  authors  for  the  churcli's  glory  fired, 
Are,  for  the  church's  peace,  to  rest  retired  ; 
And  close  l.eside  a  mystic,  maudlin  race. 
Lie  '  Crumbs  of  Comlur;  ">.    'h    I' .l.cs  of  Grace.' 

"  Against  her  fjcs  11  h:  ^i.::Js 

Her  sacred  irulhs,  hut  oli.i.j,.,.-  i   ,  fiends  ; 
Ifkanid,  their  prid.c,  (f  inak,  l/irir  pial  she  dreads, 
And  their  hearts'  weakness,  icho  have  soundest  heads." 

Upon  lltc  wliole,  tliis  first  published  poem  of  Mr.  Crabbe  contains 
many  commendable  passages,  much  good  sense,  and  the  exliibition 
of  a  fine  ear  for  polished  versification. 

The  next  poem  published  by  the  autlior  was  called  "  The  Vil- 
lage," whicli,  it  will  be  remembered,  appeared  in  17S3.  This 
production,  llic  first  of  his  which  obtained  any  considerable  popu- 
larity, (for  his  "  Library"  was  not  veiy  extensively  circulated,) 
contains  many  indications  of  that  minute  delineation  which  marks 
all  his  succeeding  works.  It  has  a  force,  in  some  parts,  which 
was  but  the  earnest  of  that  po-\vcr  which  was  afterward  so  fully 
developed  in  his  writings ;  and  was  but  introductory  to  tliat 
particular  portion  of  Parnassus,  which  he  secured,  to  be  his  own 
exclusively,  by  later  and  stronger  titles.  It  contained  entirely  new 
views  of  rustic  life.  It  was  the  first  of  a  series  of  poems  which 
have  lorn  tlie  myrtle  from  around  the  cottage,  twined  there  for  ages 
by  the  imagination  of  the  poets,  and  left  it  a  decaying  hovel.  In- 
stead of  the  conteiUcd  swain,  enjoying  his  frugal  repast  with  a  happy 
liearl,  we  have  him  presented  eating  his  coarse  bread,  mingling 
his  perspiration  with  his  daily  drink,  plodding  behind  the  plough, 
exposed  to  the  sun's  heat  and  the  rain's  pelting.     In  the  inorning  he 


51 G  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.Crahhe.  [October, 

docs  not  arise  to  gaze,  witli  a  poet's  raphire,  on  the  brightness  of 
day's  %vakmg,  but  to  connncnce  the  severe  labor  which  protracts  its 
hours.  Tlie  evening  docs  not  find  liini  weaving  pleasant  rhymes  and 
making  music  on  his  rustic  pipe,  but  worn  out  with  toil,  having 
spent  all  his  strength  in  obtaining  that  which  barely  sustains  his 
existence.  Old  age  docs  not  come  to  him  calm,  peaceful,  dignified  ; 
but  iieglocled,  scorned,  with  its  hoary  head  bowed  down  with 
weaknesses,  its  body  possessed  bjr  infirmities.    In  a  word,  he  gives 

"  That  forms  the  real  picture  of  the  poor  ;" 
and 

"  paints  (he  cot, 
As  truth  will  paint  it,  and  as  bards  will  not." 

In  this  poem  Mr.  Crabbe  gives  us  a  picture  of  the  town  in  which 
lie  was  born  ;  painting  its  desolate  condition  and  barren  vicinity  in 
most  dcscrijjlive  poetry.     He  calls  the  inhabitants 

"  a  wild,  amphibious,  race, 
AVitli  sullen  wo  clisplay'd  in  every  face, 
^VllO,  far  from  civil  arts  and  social  fly. 
And  scowl  at  stranscrs  with  suspicious  eye." 

"  Here,  waiid'ring  long,  ainid  these  frowning  fields, 
I  sou-lit  till'  simple  life  that  nature  yields; 
Itapiiie  and  wrtmir,  and  fear  usurp'd  her  place, 
And  a  liold,  aiiful,  surly,  savage  race  ; 
^Vllo,  only  skiird  to  tnke  the  linny  tribe. 
The  yearly  dinner,  or  septeimia!  bribe, 
Wait  on  the  .shore,  and,  as  liie  Avavcs  run  high. 
On  the  tost  vessel  bend  their  eager  eye. 
Which  to  their  coast  directs  its  venturous  way; 
Theirs,  or  the  ocean's  miserable  prey." 

It  is  generally,  and  we  think  veiy  naturally,  supposed  by  those 
who  liave  not  perused  Mr.  Crabbe's  entire  works,  that  he  is  a 
gloomy  writer,  delighting  to  dwell  upon  the  dark  points  of  human 
cliaractcr ;  and  the  consequent  conclusion  is  that  he  must  have  been 
a  reserved,  unsocial,  unhappy  man.  His  memoir,  by  his  son.  will 
entirely  remove  this  latter  impression,  and  the  former  lias  been 
very  jiroperly  accounted  for  on  this  wise.  Mr.  Crabbe  was  long 
known  to  the  majority  of  general  readers  by  the  portions  of  his 
earlier  works  which  found  their  way  into  the  "  Elegant  Extracts." 
These  fragments,  containing  a  very  faitliful  insight  to  the  miseries 
of  the  poor,  so  long  concealed  by  the  false  tissue  of  beauty  which 


1841.]  Life  a-nd  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  517 

poetry  had  tlirown  over  rustic  life,  and  some  of  ti>am  being  pictures 
of  misery  in  her  darkest  garb,  those  wlio  read  ihein  imbibed  the 
impression  that  tlieir  author  was  an  unhappy  man ;  and  the  fine 
finisli  of  the  portions  thus  given  to  the  pubUc,  produced  in  the 
minds  of  most  who  read  them,  an  assurance  that  this  was  Mr. 
Crabbc's  foiic,  and  consequently  that  l!ic  bias  of  his  mind  led  him. 
to  take  pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of  human  nature  in  its  most 
degraded  and  mortifying  developments.  Tliis  is  by  no  means  a 
fair  estimate  of  our  author's  character,  as  the  careful  perusal  of  his 
later  productions  will  abundantly  testify.  One  passage  in  "  The 
Village,"  more,  probably,  than  any  other,  may  have  had  an  influ- 
ence in  producing  this  impression.  We  allude  to  that  admirable, 
minute,  and  sickening  description  of  the  parish  work-house,  willi 
its  inmates,  the  heartless  apothccaiy  and  unspiritual  priest.  As 
there  is  not,  perhaps,  in  all  his  poems,  a  passage  more  finished  and 
true  to  nature,  and  one  showing  our  author's  power  at  that  period,  we 
will  give  several  extracts  from  it.     It  richly  deserves  preservation. 

"  Theirs  is  you  house  that  liolds  the  parish  poor, 
Whose  walls  of  mud  scarce  bear  the  broken  door. 
There,  where  the  piilrid  vapours,  flagging,  play. 
And  the  dull  wheel  luirns  doleful  through  the  day ; — 
There  children  dwell  who  know  no  parents'  care  ; 
Parents,  who  know  no  children's  love,  dwell  there  I 
Hearl-brokcn  matrons  on  their  joyless  bed, 
Forsaken  wives,  and  mothers  never  wed  ; 
Dejected  widows,  with  unheeded  tears, 
And  crippled  age,  with  more  than  childhood's  fears; 
The  lame,  the  blind,  and,  far  the  happiest  they ! 
The  moping  idiot  and  the  madman  gay. 

"  Such  is  that  room  which  one  rude  beam  divides, 
^And  naked  rafters  form  the  sloping  sides  ; 
Where  the  vile  bands  that  bind  the  thatch  are  seen. 
And  lath  and  mud  are  all  that  lie  between  ; 
Save  one  dull  pane,  that,  coarsely  patth'd,  gives  way 
To  the  nide  temjiest,  yet  excludes  the  day. 
Here,  on  a  matted  flock,  with  dust  o'crspread, 
The  drooping  wretch  reclines  his  languid  head  ; 
For  him  no  hand  the  cordial  cup  applies. 
Or  wipes  the  tear  that  stagnates  in  his  eyes  ; 
No  friends  with  soft  discourse  his  pain  beguile, 
Or  promise  hope  till  sickness  wears  a  smile. 

"  But  soon  a  loud  and  hasly  summons  calls, 
Shakes  the  ihiu  roo)',  and  echoes  round  the  walls ; 
Vol.  I.— 33 


518  Life  and  Focms  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  [October, 


Anon  a  fii^-irc  enters,  quaintly  neat, 

All  jiride  ami  business,  bustle  and  conceit ;  \ 

With  looks  iinaltcr'd  by  these  scenes  of  wo, 

Willi  speed  thai,  entering,  speaks  his  haste  to  go, 

He  bids  the  ^azini;  ttiroig  around  him  fly, 

And  carries  late  and  physic  in  his  eye  : 

A  potent  quack,  long  versed  in  human  ills, 

Who  first  insults  the  Mctim  whom  ho  kills  ; 

Whose  murd'rous  hand  a  drowsy  bench  protect, 

And  whoso  most  tender  mercy  is  neglect. 

"  liut  ere  his  death  some  pious  doubts  arise, 
Some  simple  fears  which  '  bold  bad'  men  despise  ; 
Fain  would  he  ask  the  parish  priest  lo  prove 
His  title  certain  lo  the  joys  above  ; 
For  tliis  he  sends  the  murmuring  nurse,  who  calls 
The  holy  stranger  to  these  dismal  walls  ; 
And  doili  not  he,  the  pious  man,  appear, 
He  '  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year?' 
Ah!  no;  a  sh<>plieid  of  a  different  slock, 
And  far  unlike  liim,  feeds  his  little  floolc : 
A  jovial  youth,  who  thinks  his  Sunday's  task 
As  much  as  God  or  man  can  fairly  ask ; 
The  rest  he  gives  to  loves  and  labors  light. 
To  fields  the  morning,  and  lo  feasts  the  night ; 
None  better  skilFd  the  noisy  pack  to  guide. 
To  urge  their  chase,  to  cheer  thom  or  to  chide ; 
A  spoilsman  keen,  lie  shoots  through  half  the  day, 
■'  'i.nd,  skill'd  at  whist,  devotes  the  night  to  play : 
I'h'^n  v.'hile  such  honors  bloom  around  his  head, 
Shtdl  he  sit  sadly  by  the  sick  man's  bed, 
'J"o  raise  the  Itope  he  feels  not,  or  with  zeal 
To  combat  fears  that  e'en  the  pious  feel  ?" 

What  exquisite  painting  !  what  a  perfect  picture  !  Is  it  to  be 
wondered  lltat  a  man  long  known  to  the  literary  world  by  this  and 
kinthcd  passages,  should  be  regarded  as  fond  of  contemplating  the 
liuman  heart  when  it  presents  the  most  dreary  aspect  1  We  liad 
intended  to  make  two  or  three  other  extracts  from  this  poem,  but 
if  we  pause  to  cull  evci-y  flower,  and  dwell  upon  every  beauty,  we 
shall  swell  our  article  far  beyond  its  assigned  limits.  We  shall 
not  delay  upon  the  "  Newspaper,"  a  poem  publislied  in  17S6  ;  it 
detracted  naught  from  the  author's  acquired  credit,  if  it  added  little 
thereto.  It  is  an  interesting  poem,  with,  perhaps,  an  improvement 
in  versification  ;  not  very  complimentary  to  that  department  of  lite- 
rature, aud  dealing  out  very  unacceptable  advice  to  those  who 
33* 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Cmbhe.  519 

Spend  llicir  precious  time  in  pci-pctratiiig  useless  and  senseless 
articles  for  those  "  vapid  sheets." 

In  1S07  "The  Parish  Register"  was  published,  together  with 
several  smaller  pieces,  among  which  were  "Sir  Eustace  Grey" 
and  the  "Birth  of  Flattery."  j\Ir.  Crabbe's  poetic  fame  had  hereto- 
fore depended  upon  the  high- wrought  pictures  which  were  scattered 
through  his  works  more  than  upon  any  uniform,  finished  poem, 
having  all  its  parts  of  equal  strcngtli  or  beauty.  In  the  "  Parish 
Register,"  as  we  have  already  remarked,  he  for  the  first  time  as- 
sumed that  place  in  the  temple  of  poetry  which  is  now  considered 
entirely  his  own.  Here  we  have  an  unbroken  succession  of  those 
sketches  of  character  which  seemed  to  have  been  reserved  for  his 
pencil's  delineation,  whose  minute  points  had  been  the  study  of  his 
retirement,  and  which  he  now  produced  v/ilh  an  accuracy  and 
power  he  had  acquired  in  his  seclusion.  They  present  cottage  life 
and  rustic  manners  with  a  fidelity  which, — when  compared  with 
the  prett)'  creations  and  ornamented  sketches  of  bards  who  wrote 
fancy,  not  fact, — appear  unnaturally  harsh  and  disagreeable.  They 
plainly  exhibit  the  author's  belief,  thai 

"  Aubuni  and  Eden  can  no  more  be  found." 

This  poem  derives  an  interest  from  the  fact  that  it  was  one  of 
the  last  works  which  elicited  the  attention  and  sooihed  the  declining 
days  of  the  gixat  Jlr.  Fox.  He  particularly  noticed  the  history  of 
Phoebe  Dawson,  a  narration  of  the  seduction  of  a  rustic  beauty, 
and  perhaps  one  of  the  finest  passages  in  this  poem.  Some  parts 
of  this  production  do,  most  certainly,  cast  a  deep  shade  upon  those 
pursuits  which  have  usually  been  considered  uninterruptedly  bliss- 
ful, and  spoiled  the  beautiful  pictures  of  sunshine  painting  which 
have  been  furnished  the  world  as  correct  descriptions  of  country 
life.  Thcjr  trace  the  v.'inding  pathwa}^  of  temptation,  covered  with 
flowers,  as  it  leads  unwary  and  excited  youth  to  indulgences,  the 
remembrance  of  which  plants  thorns  in  his  pillow  and  remose  in 
his  heart.  They  paint  the  beautiful  rose-bud  of  virgin  loveliness 
and  innocence  expanding  to  its  bloom  ;  and  tlie  soft,  silent  twining 
of  the  serpent  seducer  about  its  roots,  leaving  it  torn,  scattered,  and 
withered,  when  the  kindest  treatment  it  can  receive  is  neglect, 
and  the  most  intolerably  cruel  is  attention.  But  the  entire  poem 
is  not  made  up  of  descriptions  of  tlie  seducer's  arts  and  the  misery 


520                   Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.          [October,  1 

I 

of  tlic  seduced  ; — many  briglit  rays  of  liappiness  and  good-hurnoii-d  I 

delineations  of  the  exhibition  of  foibles  relieve  the  dai-k  scenery.  | 

This  production  was,  most  probably,  the  first  of  his  works  which  | 

may  be  considered  as  ranking  Mr.  Crabbe  with  the  radical  pocis  | 

of  England.     He  may  not  have  been  conscious  at  the  time  that  | 

such  writings  would  have  the  tendcnc}'-  which  they  have  had  ;  but  1 

a  careful  examination  of  the  feelings  which  would  naturally  have  | 

led  him  to  the  subjects  ever  his  favorites,  and  which  influenced  liis  1 

manner  of  writing,  will  convince  the  unprejudiced  that  they  were  | 

warmed,  if  not  lieated,  with  a  spirit  resentful  of  those  legal  regula-  | 

tions  which  have  debased  the  British  peasantry.    The  strong  tones  | 

which  are  given  from  the  lyres  of  Ebenezcr  Elliott  and  Barry  1 

Cornwall,  (Mr.  Proctor,)  of  the  present  day,  tell  us  that  bold  and  .  | 

powerful  poets  are  not  wanting  to  lash  tJie  increasing  enormities  | 

which  press,  incubus-like,  upon  England's  poor.  1 

Accompanying  the  "  Parish  Register'  was  "  Sir  Eustace  Grey,"  f 

a  tale  of  the  madhouse.    This  poem  has  many  passages  of  stainling  \ 

expression  and  sublimity.     It  depicts  the  situation  of  one  whom  | 

early  errors  and  great  misfortunes  had  driven  to  madness.     The  | 

scene  is  laid  in  the  house  of  confinement,  and  the  visitor  had  already  | 

exclaimed  that  he  would  know  no  more  of  I 

"  That  wan  projector's  mystic  style,  | 

That  lumpish  idiot  lecrinr;;  hi/,  | 

That  peevish  idler's  ceaseless  wile,  | 

And  ihal  poor  maiden's  half-form'd  smile,  ■  1 

While  struggling  for  the  full-drawn  sigh  !"  | 

The  physician,  however,  prevails  upon  him  to  visit  the  cell  of  Sir  | 

Eustace  Grey,  to  behold  the  display  of  | 

"  The  proud-lost  mind,  the  rash-done  deed."  I 

He  received  them  with  an  ease  which  immediately  betrays  the  | 

vestiges   of  refinement  which   remained  amid  the  desolation   of  ^ 
madness.     When  reproved  by  his  physician  for  an  indulgence  m 
warmth   of  manner   and    expression,    he   breaks    forth   with   the 
exclamation, 

"  See!  I  am  calm  as  infant-love, 
A  very  child,  but  one  of  wo, 

"Whom  you  shoulJ  pity,  not  reprove  !" 

He  tells  them  of  his  exaltation  in  youth,  his  wealth,  his  handsome 
person,  his  accomplislmients,  his  wife,  who 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  C.  Crahhe.  521 

"  was  all  we  love  ; 
Whose  manners  show'd  the  yielding  dove, 
Whoso  morals,  the  seraphic  saint." 

All  these  contributed  to  make  him  happy,  and 

"  There  were  two  cherub-things  beside, 
A  gracious  girl,  a  glorious  boy." 

But  in  an  hour  when  he  least  suspected  it,  one  whom  he  had 
clierished  as  his  friend  became  tlie  tempter  in  his  Eden,  and  his 
bUss  was  destro3red  by  his  wife's  guilty  love.  He  confesses  that 
he  deserved  it  all ;  he  says, 

"  for  all  that  time, 

"When  I  was  loved,  admired,  caress'd. 
There  was  within,  each  secret  crime, 

Unfelt,  uncanceird,  unconfess'd : 
I  never  then  my  God  address'd 

In  grateful  praise  or  humble  prayer: 
And  if  his  word  was  not  my  jest, 

(Dread  thouoht!)  it  never  was  my  care. 
I  doubted  : — fool  I  was  to  doubt ! 

If  that  all-piercing  eye  coidd  see, — 
If  he  who  looks  all  worlds  throughout, 

Would  so  minute  and  careful  be. 
As  to  perceive  and  punish  me  : — 

With  man  I  would  be  great  and  high. 
But  with  my  God  so  lost,  that  he, 

In  his  large  view,  should  pass  me  by." 

In  his  wralli  he  took  vengeance  on  his  wife's  seducer,  and  beheld 
that  wife  pine  away  and  die,  and  finally  all  that  made  life  tolerable, 
his  two  children,  passed  from  him.  Having  been  thus  reduced  to 
his  own  heart's  solitude,  his  madness  took  possession  of  liim,  which 
he  describes  as  tlie  power  which  was  given  to  devils  to  exercise 
over  him.  These  demons  robbed  him  of  title  and  estate,  and  drove 
him  out  upon  the  world,  the  scorn  of  the  base  and  the  contempt  of 
the  menial.  They  then  drew  him,  incapable  of  resistance,  througli 
lands  and  o'er  seas,  until 

"  They  halted  on  a  boundless  plain, 
Where  nothing  fed,  nor  brcath'd,  nor  grew, 

But  silence  ruled  the  still  domain. 
Upon  that  boundless  plain,  below, 

The  setting  sun's  last  ra)'s  were  shed. 
And  gave  a  mild  and  sober  glow. 

Where  all  were  still,  asleep,  or  dead  ; 


522  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahbe.  [October, 

Vast  ruins  in  the  midst  were  spread, 

Pillars  and  pcJimouts  sublime, 
Where  the  gray  iiins^i  had  form'd  a  bed, 

And  clothed  tlie  crumbling  spoils  of  time." 

There  he  was  fixed  for  ages,  gazing  upon  the  iiiicliaiiging  "  softly- 
solemn  scene,"  and  finally  sleep  fell  upon  him,  his  infernal  perse- 
cutors again  seized  him,  and  drove  him  fonvard  toward  the  norlli 
pole.     Hear  him  relate  it  in  the  brilliant  language  of  madness  ! 

"  They  placed  me  where  those  streamers  play. 

Those  nimble  beams  of  brilliant  light ; 
It  would  the  stoutest  heart  dismay 

To  see,  to  feel,  that  dreadful  sight : 
So  swift,  so  pure,  so  cold,  so  bright, 

They  pierced  my  frame  with  icy  wound. 
And  all  that  half-year's  polar  night. 

Those  dancing  streamers  wrapp'd  me  round." 

And  then  he  fell  to  earth,  was  hurried  from  city  to  city,  every 
tiling  slirinliing  from  the  approach  of  the  spij-its.  After  having 
been  forced  to  join  the  shadowj"-  troops  of  death  in  a  grave-j^ard,  lie 
was  fixed  in  "  a  shaking  fen"  in  the  darkness  of  night,  and  when 
the  Sim  arose  its  rays  fell  on  a  field  of  snow.  Then,  he  says, 
"  They  hung  me  on  a  bough  so  small, 

The  rook  coidd  build  her  nest  no  higher ; 
They  fix'J  me  on  the  trembling  bull 

Tli:it  crowns  the  steeple's  quiv'ring  spire  ; 
They  set  me  where  the  seas  retire, 

But  drown  with  their  returning  tide  ; 

And  made  me  flee  the  mountain's  fire, 

'\\'hcn  rolling  from  its  burning  side.'' 

The  temptation  to  quote  the  whole  of  his  raving  is  almost  irresist- 
ible.    We  must  be  pai-doned  if  wo  give  two  other  stanzas : — 
"  I've  fuil'd  in  storms  the  flapping  sail, 
By  hanging  from  the  top-mast  head  ; 
I've  served  the  vilest  slaves  in  jail. 

And  pick'd  the  dunnhill's  spoil  for  bread; 
I've  made  the  badger's  hole  my  bed, 
I've  wandcr'd  with  a  gipsy  crew; 
I've  dreaded  all  the  guilty  dread. 

And  done  what  they  would  fear  to  do." 

"  And  then  my  dreams  were  such  as  naught 
Could  yield  but  my  unhappy  case  ; 
I've  been  of  thousand  devils  caught. 
And  thrust  into  that  horrid  place, 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crabbe.  523 

Where  reign  dismay,  despair,  disgrace  ; 

Furies  with  iron  fangs  were  there. 
To  torture  that  accursed  race, 

Doom'd  to  dismay,  disgrace,  despair." 

Tlie  mind  of  the  man,  thus  wrought  up  to  frenzy,  was  soothed  by 
the  consolations  of  religion,  and,  as  lie  believed,  a  genuine  conver- 
sion. It  was  a  mere  temporary  relief,  however,  and  not  a  radical 
cure  of  his  madness.  He  is  left  in  this  state,  liable,  upon  any 
excitement,  again  to  have  his  reason  hurled  from  its  insecitre  posi- 
tion. The  conclusion  whicli  the  author  makes  to  this  poem  is 
strongly  and  beautifully  religious  : — 

"  But  ah !  though  time  can  yield  relief, 

And  soften  woes  it  cannot  cure  ; 
Would  we  not  suffer  pain  and  grief, 

To  have  our  reason  sound  and  sure  ? 
Then  let  us  keep  our  bosoms  pure. 

Our  fancy's  favorite  flights  suppress ; 
Prepare  the  body  to  endure. 

And  bend  the  mind  to  meet  distress  ; 
And  then  His  guardian  care  implore. 

Whom  demons  dread  and  men  adore." 

Wc  have  given  an  extended  analysis  of  this  poem,  because  it  is 
one  in  which  our  author  has  taken  a  subject  most  difficult  to 
manage,  and  in  which  he  has  unquestionably  succeeded.  It  is 
our  own  personal  opinion  that  no  poet,  except  Shakespeare,  lias 
ever  given  so  perfect  a  picture  of  insanity  as  Crabbe  has  in  this 
production.  The  volubility  of  the  patient,  the  rapid  transition  of 
his  thoughts,  his  glowing  diction,  and  the  steadily  increasing  ex- 
citement in  which  he  narrates  his  history,  are  so  perfectly  hfe-like, 
that  one  may  read  this  poem  imtil  he  absolutely  feels  himself  an 
inmate  of  the  madhouse,  and  his  heart  pulsating  under  an  excite- 
ment sympathetic  with  that  which  frenzied  the  brain  of  Sir  Eustace 
Grey.  And  now  that  we  are  done  with  the  poem,  we  beg  leave  to 
make  a  few  remarks  upon  the  only  note  subjoined  to  it.  Sir  Eus- 
tace, in  his  relation,  spoke  of  his  conversion,  and  the  poet  puts  into 
his  mouih  a  hymn  or  sermon  which  he  remembered  to  have  heard 
from  some  enthusiastic  preacher.  The  following  remark  occurs 
in  a  note  attached  to  tlic  line  immediately  preceding  the  hymn  : — 
"  It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  this  change  from  restlessness 
to  repose,  in  the  mind  of  Sk  Eustace,  is  wrought  by  a  mcthodistic 


524  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahbe.  [October,  '] 

call;  and  it  is  admiUed  to  lie  such  :  a  sober  and  rational  co7wcr-  \ 

sion  could  not  have  happened  while  the  disorder  of  the  brain  con-  ;^ 

tinued."    (Tlic  italics  are  oiu:  own.)    Wliat  is  the  inference  which  I 

any  reader  Avould  naturally,  draw  from  the  above  remark  ?    That  ^ 

the  author  considered  the  change  "  wrouglit  by  a  metliodistic  call,"  I 

as  he  is  pleased  to  term  it,  any  thing  but  "a  sober  and  rational  | 

conversion."  This  cxbibilion  of  bitterness  toward  the  Wesleyans 
he  has  exhibited  in  more  than  one  place  in  his  writings.  We  shall 
have  occasion  to  notice  this  feeling  in  the  analysis  of  another  of  his 
poems,  and  tlie  apology  made  for  it  in  his  memoir  by  his  son. 
In  justice  to  the  poet,  we  must  add  another  remark  of  the  note,  in 
which  ho  says  that  the  hymn  or  sermon  repeated  by  Sir  Eustace 
is  "  not  intended  to  make  any  religious  persuasion  appear  ridicu- 
lous." But  this  meliorates  the  matter  not  a  whit :  for  what  can 
place  a  religious  sect  in  a  more  unfavorable  light  than  to  insinuate 
strongly  that  the  change  of  feeling  and  conduct  which  it  presents 
as  the  privilege  and  duty  of  men,  is  not  "  a  sober  and  rational  con- 
version," but  adapted  only  to  afford  temporary  consolation  to  those 
who  are  inmates  of  the  madhouse  ?  The  note  has  certainly  not 
added  any  thing  to  a  produclion  which  must  take  a  high  rank  in 
English  poetry. 

The  next  poem  published  by  our  author  was  "  The  Borough," 
decidedly  the  most  finished  of  all  his  works.  He  has  not  given  us 
"  a  political  satire,"  but  a  description  of  "  the  sea,  the  country  in 
the  immediate  vicinity;  the  dwellings,  and  the  inhabitants;  some 
incidents  and  characters,  with  an  exliibition  of  their  morals  and 
manners."  And  here  let  us  remark,  that  Crabbe  has  always  shown 
great  wisdom  in  never  choosing  a  subject  which  he  could  not  handle 
successfully;  and  in  "  The  Borough"  he  has  carefully  avoided  those 
contingent  subjects  which  poets  of  less  good  sense  would  have  in- 
troduced, and  which  would  have  rendered  the  production  prosy  in 
parts  and  lumbering  in  general,  without  giving  it  any  thing  more 
of  finish. 

In  "  The  Borongh,"  Mr.  Crabbe  has  given  us  a  more  regular 
succession  of  the  highly  finished  poetic  descriptions  which  made 
the  beauties  of  the  "  Parish  Register."  The  poor, — their  manners, 
morals,  dwellings, — have  all  here  received  the  poet's  notice,  and 
elicited  some  of  his  most  powerful  descriptive  cflforts.  Among 
these  are  his  celebrated  sketches  of  Ellen  Orford  and  Peter  Grimes. 


1S41.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahbe.  525 

The  introduction  to  the  story  of  Ellen  Orford  is,  in  onr  opinion, 
one  of  the  most  hcmuiful  pages  Crabbe  ever  wrote.  It  is  a  simple 
siminiary  of  the  ingredients  of  lion-or  used  by  romance  -vmters  in 
the  composition  of  their  works.  The  language  is  so  richly  varied, 
the  pictures  are  so  true,  and  the  versification  so  smoothly  flo\ving, 
lliat  the  wliole  passage,  awakening  all  our  recollections  of  the 
blood-chilling  fictions  which  made  the  reading  of  our  youth,  will 
ever  be  considered  extremely  interesting.  The  tale  itself  is  told 
with  great  pathos,  aiid  in  several  places  we  are  startled  with  the 
exhibition  of  maternal  agony  at  lier  recollection  of  the  heart-rending 
scenes  of  misery  through  which  she  had  been  called  to  pass. 

"Peter  Grimes"  is  a  tale  of  some  terror,  in  wliich  crime  begets 
madness ;  where  the  disobedient  boy  becomes  the  wicked  man, 
and  the  iniquitous  wretch  is  stung  to  death  by  remorse.  His 
father,  "  old  Peter  Grimes,  made  fishing  his  employ."  In  his  old 
age  liis  misery  was  increased  by  the  exhibition  of  lawlessness  and 
criminal  indulgence  on  the  part  of  his  son,  and  his  gray  hairs  were 
brought  down  in  sorrow  to  the  grave  by  his  heart-breaking  treat- 
ment. After  his  fatlier's  death,  Peter  was  obliged  to  labor  alone, 
until  he  could  find 

"  some  obedient  hoy  to  stand 
And  bear  the  blow  of  his  outrageous  hand ; 
And  hoped  to  find  in  some  propitious  hour 
A  feeling  creature  subject  to  his  power." 

He  obtained  such  a  being  from  the  London  workhouse,  whom  he 
had  three  years,  and  finally  killed  him  by  starvation  and  harsli 
treatment.  From  the  same  source  he  obtained  another  boy,  who, 
according  to  Peter's  account,  chmbed  the  main-mast  one  night  and 
fell  througli  the  hatclnvay  and  killed  himself;  the  jiny,  however, 
were  not  entirely  assured  that  Peter  had  not  used  some  foul  play 
in  disposing  of  the  boy.  His  fears,  however,  were  set  aside  by  a 
favorable  verdict ;  he  again  applied  "  at  the  slave-shop,"  and  pro- 
cured a  lad,  "of  manners  soft  and  mild,"  v/hom  all  thought  to 
be  "  of  gentle  blood,  some  noble  sinner's  son."  This  poor  boy 
labored  until  his  heavy  loads  lamed  him.  One  day  Peter  was  so 
lucky  with  his  net  that  he  was  obhged  to  go  to  the  London 
market.  But  when  he  reached  the  metropolis  his  boy  was  not 
with  him,  and  Peter  was  called  to  an  account.  He  said,  that  in 
the  storm, 


526  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crcihhe.  [October, 

"  he  spied 
The  stripling's  danger,  and  for  hnrlior  tried ; 
Meantime  the  fisli,  and  tlien  th'  apprentice,  died." 

The  true  historj'  of  the  case  was,  that  when  "  the  boat  grew  leaky 
and  the  wind  was  strong,"  and  the  liquor  failed,  that  Peter's  wrath 
arose,  and  he  was  guilty  of  a  third  murder.  Not  being  able  to 
produce  any  positive  proof,  he  was  again  acquitted,  but  the  mayor 
himself  proliibited  him  from  employing  any  one  but  a  hired  free- 
man. Thus  he  was  compelled  to  live  by  himself,  to  behold  tlie 
same  unvarying,  uninteresting  scenes ;  "  he  toil'd  and  rail'd,  he 
groan'd  and  swore  alone."  His  misery  on  the  shore  was  insup- 
portable, and  yet 

"  A  change  of  scene  to  him  brought  no  relief ; 
In  town,  'twas  plain,  men  took  him  for  a  thief: 
The  sailors'  wives  would  stop  liim  in  the  street. 
And  say,  '  Now,  Peter,  thou'st  no  boy  to  beat :' 
Infants  at  pla)-,  when  they  perceived  him,  ran. 
Warning  each  other — '  That 's  the  wiclied  man.' 
He  growl'd  an  oath,  and  in  an  angry  tone 
Cursed  the  whole  place,  and  wish'd  to  bo  alone." 

Still  was  lie  miserable  in  his  retreat,  and  while  there, 

"  Cold,  nervous  tremblings  shook  his  sturdy  frame, 
And  strange  disease,  ho  couldn't  say  the  name  ; 
Wild  were  his  dreams,  and  oft  he  rose  in  fright, 
AVakcd  by  his  view  of  horrors  in  the  night, — 
Horrors  that  would  the  sternest  minds  amaze. 
Horrors  tlic  demons  might  be  proud  to  raise." 

Thus  he  pas?cd  the  winter ;  and  in  summer,  those  who  spent  tlie 
warm  season  by  tlie  sea-side  came  down,  and  often  visited  the 
shore.     Of  these, 

"  One,  up  the  river,  had  a  man  and  boat 
Seen  day  by  day,  now  anehor'd,  now  afloat ; 
Fisher  he  seem'd,  yet  used  no  net  nor  hook ; 
Of  sca-lbwl  swimming  by  no  heed  he  took  ; 
At  certain  stations  he  would  view  the  stream. 
As  if  he  stood  bcwildcr'd  in  a  druam, 
Or  that  some  power  had  chain'd  him  for  a  time, 
To  feel  a  curse  or  meditate  on  crime." 

Wien  questioned  relative  to  his  manner  of  life,  the  recollections 
of  his  crimes  came  ujion  hiin  clothed  with  new  horrors,  and  he 
forsook  his  boat  and  "  up  the  country  ran,"  wlicre  lie  was  taken 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  527 

and  confined  "  to  a  parish  bed,"  a  distempered  man.  A  priest  ^vho 
attended  him  occasionally  caught  his  raving.  Alluding  to  the  death 
of  liis  second  boy,  in  liis  madness, 

"  It  was  (lie  fall,"  he  mutter'ci,  "  I  can  show 
Tlio  manner  Low— I  never  struck  a  blow:" — 
And  then  aloud — "  Unhand  nic,  free  my  chain  ; 
On  oath,  he  fell — it  struck  him  to  the  brain : — 
Wliy  ask  my  father  1 — That  old  man  will  swear 
Against  my  lilc  ;  besides,  ho  wasn't  there  : — 
What,  all  agreed  ?— Am  I  to  die  to-day? — 
JNIy  Lord,  in  mercy,  give  me  time  to  pray." 

In  liis  calmer  moments,  after  he  had  exhausted  himself  and  "  grew 
80  weak  he  could  not  move  his  frame,"  they  sat  beside  the  wicked 
and  now  lost  Peter,  watching  the  dew-beads  on  his  forehead,  "  and 
the  cold  death-drop  glaze  his  sunken  eyes."  He  seemed  all  the 
while  to  be  discoursing  with  some  imaginaiy  being,  exposing  his 
heart  by  a  discourse  which 

"  Was  part  confession  and  the  rest  defense, 
A  madman's  tale,  with  gleams  of  waking  sense." 

This  confession,  which  formed  the  dying  words  of  Peter  Grimes, 
is  one  of  the  most  thrilling  passages  Crabbe  ever  penned.  Although 
it  may  be  familiar  to  many  of  our  readers,  yet,  as  it  is  often  referred 
to  by  our  poet's  reviewers  and  admirers,  we  shall  tiike  the  hbertj- 
to  present  it  without  abridgment : — 

"  I'll  tell  you  all,"  he  said,  "  the  very  day 
When  the  old  man  first  placed  them  in  my  way: 
JMy  father's  spirit — he  who  always  tried 
To  give  me  trouble,  when  he  lived  and  died — 
When  he  was  gone  he  cotdd  not  be  content 
To  sec  my  days  in  painful  labor  spent. 
But  would  appoint  his  meetings,  and  he  made 
Me  watcli  at  these,  and  so  neglect  my  trade. 

"  'Twas  one  hot  noon,  all  silent,  still,  serene. 
No  living  being  had  I  lately  seen  ; 
I  paddled  up  and  down  and  dii)p'd  my  net, 
But  (such  his  pleasure)  I  could  nothing  get, — 
A  father's  pleasure,  wdien  his  toil  was  done, 
To  plague  and  torture  thus  an  only  son ! 
And  so  I  sat  and  look'd  upon  the  stream, 
How  it  ran  on,  and  felt  as  in  a  dream : 
But  dream  it  was  not ;  no ! — 1  fix'd  my  eyes 
On  the  mid  stream,  and  saw  the  spirits  rise  ; 


Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  [Oclolicr, 

I  saw  m5'  father  on  the  water  stand, 

And  hold  a  thin  pale  boy  in  cither  hand ; 

And  there  they  glided  ghastly  on  the  top 

Of  the  salt  flood,  and  never  touch'd  a  drop: 

I  wonld  have  struck  them,  but  they  knew  th'  intent, 

And  smiled  npon  the  oar,  and  down  they  went. 

"  Now,  from  that  day,  whenever  I  began 
To  dip  my  net,  there  stood  the  hard  old  man — 
He  and  those  boys  :   I  himibled  me  and  pray'd 
They  would  be  gone  ; — they  heeded  not,  but  stay'd  : 
Nor  could  I  turn,  nor  would  the  boat  go  by, 
But,  gazing  on  the  spirits,  there  was  I : 
They  bade  me  leap  to  death,  but  I  was  loth  to  die  : 
And  every  day,  as  sure  as  day  arose, 
Woidd  these  three  spirits  meet  me  ere  the  close ; 
To  hear  and  mark  them  daily  was  my  doom. 
And  '  Come,'  they  said,  with  weak,  sad  voices,  '  come.' 
To  row  away  with  all  my  strength  I  tried. 
And  there  were  they,  hard  by  me  in  the  tide, 
The  three  imbodied  ibrms — and  '  Come,'  still '  come,'  they  cried. 

"  Fathers  sliould  pity — but  this  old  man  shook 
His  hoary  locks,  and  froze  me  by  a  look : 
Thrice,  when  I  struck  them,  through  the  water  came 
A  hollow  groan,  that  weaken'd  all  my  frame  : 
'  Father'.'  said  I,  'have  mercy:' — He  replied, 
I  know  not  what — the  angry  spirit  lied, — 
'  Didst  thou  not  draw  thy  knife  V  said  he  : — 'Twas  true, 
But  I  had  pity,  and  my  arm  withdrew : 
He  cried  for  mercy,  which  I  kindly  gave, 
But  he  has  no  compassion  in  his  grave. 

"  There  were  three  places  where  they  ever  rose, — 
The  whole  long  river  has  not  such  as  those, — 
Places  accursed,  where,  if  a  man  remain. 
He'll  see  the  things  which  strike  him  to  the  brain  ; 
And  there  they  made  me  on  my  paddle  lean, 
And  look  at  them  for  hours  ; — accursed  scene ! 
When  they  wotild  glide  to  that  smooth  eddy-place, 
They  bid  me  leap  and  join  them  in  the  place  ; 
And  at  my  groans  eacli  little  villain  sprite 
Enjoy'd  my  pains  and  vanish'd  in  delight. 
In  one  fierce  summer-day,  when  my  poor  brain 
Was  burning  hot  and  cruel  was  my  pain. 
Then  came  this  father-foe,  and  there  he  stood 
With  his  two  boys  again  npon  the  flood  ; 
There  was  more  mischief  in  their  eyes,  more  glee 
In  their  pale  faces  when  they  glared  at  me  : 
Still  did  they  force  me  on  the  oar  to  rest, 
And  when  they  saw  me,  fainting  and  oppress'd. 
He,  whh  his  hand,  the  old  man,  scoop'd  the  flood, 
And  there  came  flame  about  him  mix'd  with  blood ; 


IS  11.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  Cr.Crahle.  529 

He  bade  me  stoop  and  look  upon  the  place, 
Then  fliiiic;  the  hol-rcil  liquor  in  my  fLice  ; 
Burniui;  it  blazed,  nnd  then  I  roar'd  for  pain, 
I  thougbt  the  diMnons  would  liavo  turn'd  my  brain. 
"  Still  there  they  stood,  and  forced  nic  to  behold 
A  place  of  horrors — they  cannot  be  told — 
"Where  the  flood  opcn'd,  there  I  heard  the  shriek 
Of  tortured  guilt — no  earthly  tonnie  can  speak : 
'  All  days  alike  !  for  ever  !'  did  they  say, 
'  And  unremitted  torments  every  day' — 
Yes,  so  they  said  :" — But  here  he  ceased,  and  gazed 
On  all  around,  afl'righten'd  and  amazed  ; 
And  still  he  tried  to  speak,  and  look'd  in  dread 
Of  frighten'd  females  gathering  round  his  bed  ; 
Then  dropp'd  exhausted,  and  appear'd  at  rest. 
Till  the  strong  foe  the  vital  powers  posscss'd  ; 
Then  with  an  inward,  broken  voice  he  cried, 
"  Again  tlicy  come,"  and  iuutter"d  as  he  died. 

Thus  ends  this  masterly  production  ;  a  poem  which  must  ever 
be  considered  one  of  Crabbc's  most  successful  efibrts,  and  perhaps 
tlic  most  deeply  iiueresting  of  this  series  of  poems.  Probably  tiie 
most  exceptionable  of  the  twenty-four  letters  which  compose  "Tiie 
Borough,"  is  that  on  "  Sects  and  professions  in  religion ;"  and  the 
author,  as  tliough  aware  of  this,  takes  every  precaution  to  guard  it 
in  his  preface.  Tlie  introduction  to  this  poem  is  devoted  to  the 
consideration  of  the  various  sects  of  dissenters  from  the  Church  of 
England,  whom  our  author  lampoons  with  a  zeal  worthy  a  clergy- 
man of  the  Establisliinent.  The  principal  part  of  the  letter,  how- 
ever, is  devoted  to  the  abuse  of  Methodists,  whom  he  divides  into 
two  classes,  the  Calvinistic  and  the  Arminian.  The  object  of  the 
poet  evidently  is  to  throw  ridicule  upon  a  people  whose  greatest 
fault — in  his  estimation,  apparently — was,  that  the  most  enthusi- 
astic among  them  spake  in  no  very  measured  terms  of  the  spiritual 
Ictlinrgy  which  oppressed  almost  the  whole  clerical  body  of  the 
established  Chiurch.  A  great  deal  of  talent  is  spent  in  pouring  out 
vials  of  satire  upon  the  unfortunate  followers  of  Whiteficld  and 
Wesley ;  wlio,  to  say  the  least,  arc  grossly  misrepresented  in  this 
production.  Mr.  Crabbc — singling  out  some  of  the  most  excitable 
of  those  who,  suffering  the  truths  of  the  ever-hJcssed  gospel,  as 
energetically  presented  by  the  two  great  men  above  named,  to 
excite  them  beyond  control,  were  led  to  the  exhibition  of  enthusi- 
astic actions  disgraceful  to  themselves  and  injimous  to  the  cause 


530  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahbe.  [October, 

of  religion — has  vcrj'  unjustly  endeavored  to  heap  their  weak- 
nesses upon  tlie  great  father  of  Jlethodism.  In  this  attempt  his 
Aveapons  have  fallen  back  upon  his  ov\ii  head.  He  certainly  did 
rot  v\-ish  his  readers  to  believe  all  he  has  said  of  these  Methodist 
preachers:  it  is  too  preposterous  for  credulity!  The  picture  is  a 
caricature,  in  which  just  a  sufhciency  of  correctness  is  given  to 
identify  llie  original.  And  is  not  Mr.  Crabbe  guilty,  in  this  very 
production,  of  the  same  spirit  of  which  he  accuses  the  sect  he 
holds  up  to  ridicule?  He  is  bitter  against  theui  for  condemning 
the  whole  English  Church  because  of  the  abuses  which  have  con- 
nected tlicmsclves  whh  it ;  and  in  this  identical  poem  he  pours  a 
furious  broadside  on  Jlcthodism,  because  some  of  the  sect  have 
mistaken  mere  animal  excitement  for  the  sanctifying  influences  of 
the  Holv  Ghost.  Even  with  this  fact  admitted,  would  it  not  have 
been  well  for  the  poet-clevg)anan  to  have  paused  hnd  asked  him- 
self, whether  it  is  not  better  that  the  church  should  be  on  fire  with 
enthusiasm  than  torpid  with  spiritual  frigidity  ? 

There  arc  touches  of  truth  in  his  descriptions  which  Methodism 
will  ever  be  proud  to  acknowledge.  They  will  live  together,  (for 
Mctiiodism  can  never  die,  and  Crabbe's  poems  ivill  not,)  and  tliey 
will  become,  wiiat  they  never  were  intended  to  be,  noble  compli- 
ments to  the  unceasing  efforts  of  the  founders  of  our  church  ;  and 
their  holy  zeal  will  stand  in  bold  relief  against  the  then  luxurious 
indolence  of  the  Establishment's  clergy.  And  if  our  poet,  in  his 
preface,  iji  w  hich  he  attempts  to  throw  up  a  wall  around  this  highly 
exceptionable  poem,  had  only  cited  our  standard  works  as  contain- 
ing our  creed  and  in  proof  of  his  remarks,  (instead  of  some  of  die 
ridiculously  enthusiastic  pamphlets  which  were  born  in  those  days 
of  !=])iritual  reformation,)  the  whole  production  would  have  called 
for  little  remark,  for  it  would  have  borne  its  refutation  on  its  front. 

Tliis  feeli)ig  of  bitterness,  however,  is  explained  in  his  memoir 
by  his  truly  amiable  son.  When,  after  a  long  absence  from  his 
incumbency  of  Muston,  ho  returned  to  take  charge  of  it  in  1805, 
he  found  that  many  things  had  gone  Avrong  in  his  absence.  In 
the  words  of  his  biography,  "  A  Wesleyan  missionary  liad  formed 
a  thriving  establislmicnt  in  Muston,  and  the  congregations  at  tlie 
parish  church  were  no  longer  such  as  they  had  been  of  old.  [As 
usual.\  This  much  annoyed  my  father ;  and  the  warmth  with 
which  he  began  to  preach  against  dissent  only  irritated  liimsclf  and 


1841.]  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  0.  CraUc.  531 

other?,  without  bringing  back  disciples  to  the  fold."  [Of  course.] 
Thv.^c,  then,  were  the  circumstances  which  drew  from  Mr.  Crabbe 
expressions  in  his  sermons  and  liis  poems  which  could  but  offend 
others,  without  the  slightest  prospect  of  being  productive  of  good. 
Tliejf  certainly  stand  in  strong  contrast  with  the  general  sweetness 
of  his  disposition.  x\s  he  is  now  at  rest,  it  behooves  us  to  cast 
over  them  all  the  mantle  of  Christian  charity,  and,  hiding  from  our 
eyes  the  offensive  spirit  in  which  they  were  dictated,  dwell  upon 
the  masterly  mamier  in  which  they  were  executed. 

We  have  already  given  to  "  The  Borough,"  in  general,  the  high 
praise  it  has  everyvvhorc  elicited,  and  consider  it  now  as  one  of 
the  permanent  English  classics.  We  pass  to  a  brief  notice  of  the 
other  volumes  of  ]Mr.  Crabbe's  poetrj'-  with  which  we  have  been 
favored  by  himself  and  his  son.  The  next  poetic  publication  of 
our  author  was  his  work  entitled  "  Tales  in  Verse,"  which  made 
its  ajipcarance  in  1S12.  The  words  of  his  biography  express  our 
oj.iinion  of  tliis  work,  that  it  is  "  as  striking  as,  and  far  less  objec- 
tionable than,  its  predecessor,  The  Borough."  His  preface  to  his 
"  Talcs"  is  quite  an  interesting  article  ;  and  we  have  in  it  his  rea- 
son for  not  using  any  connecting  link  between  the  poems  of  whicli 
this  volume  was  composed.  Crabbe's  pictures — for  we  can  find 
no  other  word  to  express  our  perception  of  his  sketches  of  charac- 
ter— do  not  form  a  regular,  unbroken  series ;  but  may  be  very 
conveniently  grouped.  He  has,  undoubtedly,  attended  to  this  in 
the  preparation  of  his  works.  It  would  be  any  thing  but  agreeable 
to  read  a  whole  volume,  written  in  a  metre  from  which  he  has 
seldom  varied,  but  often  smoothed  and  beautified,  in  order  to 
possess  all  the  incidents  of  one  story,  or  comprehend  the  details 
of  one  design.  It  is  far  more  pleasant  to  study  one  of  the  life-like 
creations  which  have  found  existence  under  his  poetic  pen,  and 
then  suffer  his  poems  to  lie  untouched  U7itil  another  day.  There 
arc  volumes  of  poetry  throTigh  which  one  may  dash  in  an  hour, — 
but  it  is  not  so  with  Crabbe's  works.  It  is  delightful  to  study  his 
characters  ;  to  watch  the  painter  (we  cannot  avoid  that  word  when 
speaking  of  our  author)  as  he  develops  each  feature,  adds  linea- 
ment to  lineament,  and  color  to  color,  touching  and  retouching,  until 
we  have  the  perfect  sketch  before  us,  and  so  impressively  presented 
that  vvc  will  Iver  class  it  with  our  intimates.  And  liere  we  think 
there  ""■  """ic  danger  connected  with  his  works ;  for  some  of  his 


532  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhc.  [October, 

characters  are  such  as  liatl  better  not  be  known.  Perhaps  no  poet 
ever  knew  so  well  wluil  lie  could  do,  and  what  he  could  not  do,  as 
did  Mr.  Crabbe  ;  and  aware  of  his  abilities,  in  tlic  work  before  us 
he  has  taken  those  characters  which  he  could  easily  manage,  and 
has  attempted  no  forced  connection.  Some  of  these  "  Talcs"  rank 
among  our  auliior's  most  successful  eftbrts.  Our  limited  space 
forbids  us  the  pleasure  of  giving  an  analysis  of  the  "  Parting  Hour" 
and  the  "  Confidant,"  as  we  had  intended  doing,  both  which  are 
highly  interesting  tales.  These  two,  with  the  "  Patron"  and  "  Ed- 
ward Sliore,"  have  been  regarded  as  gi'eatly  adding  to  our  poet's 
fame.  The  frrst  of  tlie  tales,  entitled  the  "Dumb  Orators,"  is 
quite  an  amusing  little  picture  of  the  cowardice  we  may  find  in 
many  places  in  society,  wiiicli  keeps  up  its  dignity  by  considerable 
artificial  blustering,  and  an  unveiling  of  wJiich  (oftentimes  unavoid- 
able) makes  its  possessor  feel  very,  very  unpleasant.  "  Arabella" 
is  quite  good,  and  a  perusal  of  it  might  be  beneficial  to  ladies  "  of 
a  certain  age  :"  the  author  shows  in  it  that  he  has  studied  human 
nature  not  unsuccessfully.  As  a  loholc,  the  "  Tales  in  Verse"  have 
much  enlianced  Mr.  Crabbe's  fame. 

In  1S19,  the  last  of  his  works  published  during  our  poet's  life- 
time was  issued  from  the  London  press.  It  is  entitled  "  Tjilcs  of 
the  Hall."  Each  of  his  poems  thus  far  had  been  an  improvement 
upon  its  predecessor,  and  the  "Tales  of  the  Hall"  showed  that 
their  author  had  not  yet  lost  his  power  of  eliciting  attention.  In- 
deed, there  are  some  passages  in  this  production  which  seem  to 
favor  the  thought  that  the  poet  had  brought  to  his  task  more  mature 
judgment,  as  well  as  improved  poetic  ability.  The  "  Lady  Bar- 
bara" of  this  work  has  ever  been  considered  one  of  Mr.  Crabbe's 
most  admirable  attcmjits  at  portraiture.  The  manner  in  whicli  a 
warm  boy  woos  and  wins  a  titled,  wealthy  widow,  much  his  supe- 
rior in  age,  and  rank,  and  fortune,  and  discretion,  notwithstanding 
a  warning  given  her  liy  a  ghost,  is  told  in  a  style  which  no  one  but 
Crabbe  has  ever  commanded. 

After  tlie  demise  of  their  father,  liis  tw'o  sons  published  a  volume 
of  poems  from  his  pen.  Had  Mr.  Crabbe  lived  to  revise  these 
tales,  they  would  rank  with  his  best  performances ;  as  it  is,  al- 
though they  lack  the  polish  of  a  more  careful  and  critical  review 
by  their  author,  they  possess  most  of  those  characteristics  which 
rendered  liim  a  distinguished  poet.    Tlie  acute  and  intuitive  per- 


ISII.]  Life  and  Pucms  of  Rev.  G.  Crahbe.  533 

ccplion  of  motive,  tlio  ability  to  unfold  nature,  and  the  happy  de- 
scriptive povv'cr  he  ever  possessed,  may  be  easily  traced  iu  each 
of  the  twenty-two  talcs  which  compose  this  volume.  Of  these  the 
second  is  probably  the  most  interesting  for  its  dramatic  construc- 
tion and  the  very  masterly  manner  in  which  Mr.  Crabbe  dissects 
character.  Its  title  is,  "  The  Family  of  Love."  We  shall  not 
follow  the  story, — the  reader  must  peruse  it  himself;  and  it  will 
amply  reward  him  for  the  time  and  trouble  thus  expended.  Of 
the  whole  volume  this  is,  perliaps,  the  most  admirable  tale,  and  the 
characters  which  come  under  review  are  such  as  are  well  adapted 
to  Mr.  Crabbe's  peculiar  faculty  of  description.  The  first  five  tales 
are  miscellaneous ;  the  remaining  seventeen  form  a  series  which 
My.  Crabbe  had  originally  intended  to  publish  in  a  separate  volume, 
to  be  entitled  "The  Farewell  and  Return."  In  one  of  his  letters 
lie  says  of  it,  "  I  suppose  a  young  man  to  take  leave  of  his  native 
place,  and  to  exchange  farewells  with  his  friends  and  acquaint- 
ance there — in  short,  with  as  many  characters  as  I  have  fancied  I 
could  manage.  These,  and  their  several  situations  and  prospects, 
being  briefly  sketched,  an  interval  is  supposed  to  elapse ;  and  our 
youth,  a  3-outh  no  more,  rcturvi  to  the  scene  of  his  early  days. 
Twenty  years  have  passed  ;  and  the  interest,  if  there  be  any,  con- 
sists in  the  completion,  more  or  less  unexpected,  of  the  history  of 
each  person  to  whom  he  had  originally  bidden  farewell."  Un- 
doubtedly this  series  embodies  much  of  the  poet's  private  history. 
They  are  written  in  his  usual  style,  with  something  of  the  con- 
nection wliich  exists  in  the  "  Tales  of  the  Ilall." 

Upon  a  general  survey  of  our  author's  poems,  we  fear  we  cannot 
render  a  verdict  in  favor  of  their  usefulness.  That  they  have  been 
somewhat  useful  in  England,  in  a  political  point  of  view,  in  calling 
the  attention  of  the  higher  classes  of  that  countrj',  and  of  men  in 
places  of  influence,  to  the  real,  unexaggerated  state  of  tlie  mass  of 
the  poor,  we  liave  not  the  slightest  doubt.  Nor  is  it  doubled  that 
many  of  his  poems  are  works  of  taste,  which  may  be  refining  to 
the  poetic  student.  But  there  we  think  the  limit  of  their  utility  is 
fixed.  That  ever)'  page  has  the  impress  of  genius  is  mideniablc  ; 
but  we  have  feared  that  flowing  versification  and  lovely  poetical 
imagery  have  been  thrown  around  scenes  the  description  of  \vhich 
has  been  useless,  if  we  may  not  say  deleterious.  We  find  in  his 
works  too  many  exemplifications  of  woman's  weakness  and  man's 

Vol.  I.~34 


534  Life  and  Poems  of  Rev.  G.  Crahhe.  [October, 

wickedness ;  and  if  tlic  cause  of  morality  and  religion  may  ho 
favored  by  keeping  the  truth  of  our  natural  pronencss  to  sin  conti- 
nually before  us,  we  feel  satisfied  that  minute  illustrations  of  un- 
hallowed desire,  conceiving  and  bringing  forth  sin,  are  higlily 
injurious.  On  this  point,  then,  we  must  differ  from  some  others 
of  i\Ir.  Crabbc's  reviewers,  in  doubting  whether  he  has  been  suili- 
ciently  careful  in  uniting  the  utile  cum  dulcc. 

\\'c  have  thus  given  a  brief  analysis  of  the  works  of  Craliljc, 
and  the  opinion  we  have  formed  of  his  poetic  power.  He  opened 
a  new  path,  and  most  successfull}'  pm'sued  it.  He  has  reversed 
all  the  bright  pictures  of  rustic  happiness  whicli  have  filled  t!ie 
pages  of  the  poets,  and  most  faithfully  dehneated  the  miseries,  as 
well  as  the  happiness,  of  humble  life.  This  strict  adherence  to 
nature  and  txuth  will,  in  lime,  render  his  works  a  favorite  with  the 
cottager  and  peasant  of  England,  and  will  continue  so  while  many 
of  England's  laws  continue  so  oppressive.  He  has  seldom  ascended 
above  middle  life,  and  scarcely  in  a  single  instance  selected  a  sub- 
ject which  was  not  consonant  with  his  taste  and  abilities.  If  he 
has  exhibited  any  fault  in  sketching  character,  it  is  that  he  has 
been  occasionally  painfull)'-  minute.  With  a  delicate  car,  he  has 
rendered  his  versification  extremely  polished,  and  sometimes  ex- 
quisitely musical ;  and  altliough  he  seldom  varied  liis  metre,  lie 
scarcely  ever  appears  monotonous.  His  regular  smoothness  re- 
minds us  of  Pope,  his  diction  of  Goldsmith, — but  a  perusal  of  his 
works  convinces  us  that  he  is  an  imitator  of  neither.  His  percep- 
tion of  character  seemed  almost  intuitive  ;  his  ability  to  describe  il, 
most  masterly.  He  was  ever  beautiful,  even  in  the  midst  of  loath- 
some scenes,  and  sometimes  he  rose  to  sublimity.  His  humor  is 
so  quiet  that  it  seldom  makes  us  laugli,  while  it  ever  imparts  those 
highly  pleasant  sensations  which  create  the  happy  smile.  Tiic 
coloring  he  gave  his  descriptions  was  rich  and  varied,  and  the 
exactitude  with  which  he  sketched  character  identifies  the  origiiinl 
inunodiately.  His  pathos,  deep  and  touching  as  it  is,  readies  the 
liidden  foimt  of  feeling,  and  wakes  its  warmest  cuiTcnt.  We  can 
say  nothing  greater  of  the  "  poet  of  the  poor"  than  has  been  said: — 
he  was  "Nature's  sternest  jminter,  and  licr  best." 
34' 


Baptist  Bible  Society.  535 


Art.  III. —  Tlie  Bible  Society  of  the  Baptist  Denomination. 

It  is  known  lo  the  Cliristian  community,  tlial  our  brclliren,  of 
tlie  Baptist  denomination,  have  withdrawn,  in  a  bod}-,  from  the 
American  Bible  Society,  and  have  organized  an  independent  insti- 
tution for  tlie  purpose  of  translating  and  circulating  the  word  of  life.* 
The  originating  cause  of  their  secession,  and  the  precise  object  of 
the  new  association,  are,  however,  not  so  generally  understood. 
We  have  before  us  the  constitution  of  the  new  society ;  a  report 
of  their  operations  during  the  year  of  their  provisional  organization  ; 
their  first,  second,  and  third  ( 1 840)  annual  reports ;  and  several  quar- 
terly papers  issued  under  the  direction  of  the  society.  From  these, 
we  shall  be  enabled  to  give  a  correct  account  of  the  origin,  object, 
and  prospects  of  the  new  iustilution.  We  intend  to  do  this  lioncslly ; 
actuated,  if  we  Iniow  our  own  heart,  solely  by  a  love  for  the  truth. 
But  wliilc  on  the  one  hand  we  disclaim  the  right  to  attribute 
motives  that  arc  disavowed  ;  on  tlie  other  we  shall  be  fearless  in 
the  appHcation  of  the  Saviour's  rule :— By  their  fruits  ye  shall  linow 
them. 

With  our  Baptist  brethren  we  have  ahvays  been  on  as  friendly 
terms  as  they  would  allow  us  to  be.  Wc  have  preached  in  their 
pulpits,  and  although  we  are  not  permitted  to  commemorate  witii 
them  the  dying  love  of  our  common  Saviour,  we  bear  thcni  no  ill 
will  on  that  account.  They  choose  to  take  the  responsibility  of 
virtually  unchristianizing  those  whom  they  nevertheless  call  bre- 
thren beloved,  and  whom  they  acknowledge  as  ministers  of  Clirist, 
by  inviting  them  to  preach  to  their  people.  Wc  arc  willing  they 
.should  bear  that  responsibility,  as  it  leaves  lliem  answerable  for  any 
schism  in  the  body  of  Christ  thereb}'  occasioned. 

We  cheerfully  accord  to  that  denomination,  also,  fidl  credit  for 
the  7.eal  they  have  manifested  in  sending  the  gospel  and  the  mis- 
sionary to  the  heathen.  In  this  we  allude  more  especially  to  the 
Baptists  of  England.  The  same  spirit  in  this  country  has  enabled 
them  to  take  rank  with  the  largest  Christian  denominations  in  the 
Unhed  States. 

*  It  ought  to  be  observed  here,  that  there  are  exceptions  to  this  remark  ;  a 
respectable  portion  of  Baptists  haviiif,'  refused  to  co-opcrale  witli  the  soccders, 
and  still  continuing  friendly  to  the  old  society. 


53G  Baptist  BiHe  Society.  [October, 

That  the)'  had  a  perfect  riglil  to  withdraw  from  the  American 
Bible  Society,  and  to  estabhsli  another,  if  the  reasons  seemed  unto 
lliemsclves  sufiicicnt,  will  not  be  questioned.  If  they  had  publicly 
avowed,  as  their  design  in  so  doing,  the  interests  of  their  own  sect, 
and  had  baptized  their  society  with  their  own  distinguishing  name,  no 
one  of  their  sister  churches  would  liave  had  any  right  to  complain. 
They  have  seen  proper  to  do  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  They 
disclaim  sectarian  motives,  and,  instead  of  choosing  a  denomina- 
tional characteristic,  they  call  the  new  establishment  TJtc  American 
and  Foreign  Bible  Socicti/. 

There  is  something  ludicrous  in  the  application  of  the  tcrnt 
American  to  societies  and  institutions  which  are  of  a  purely  secta- 
rian character.  The  design  with  which  it  is  done  is  easily  seen 
through.  Our  Baptist  friends  hare  never  before,  so  far  as  \\c 
know,  adopted  it ;  and  whether,  in  this  instance,  they  must  come 
mider  the  charge  of  using  it  for  sectarian  purposes  will  appear 
before  the  reader  gets  through  this  article.  Our  Presbyterian  bre- 
thren are  notorious  for  making  everj^  thing  connected  with  the  inte- 
rests of  their  own  peculiarities— yi  mcrican.  Thus  their  missionarv' 
societies  are  luiown,  not  as  Presbyterian,  or  Calvinistic,  but  as  the 
American  Board,  and  the  American  Home  Society.  Their  society 
for  the  education  of  indigent  young  men  is,  of  course,  the  American 
Society.  In  their  periodicals  they  talk  of  themselves  as  the  Ame- 
rican churches  ;  and  a  little  monthly  pamphlet  containing  one,  and 
sometimes  two  well-spiced  Calvmistic  sermons,  is  the  Natiuii'il 
Preacher.  An  inhabitant  of  another  planet  visiting  our  earth,  might, 
perhaps,  for  a  while  be  led  to  suppose  that  all  Atnericans  arc  Pres- 
byterians, either  of  the  new  or  old  school ;  or,  at  any  rate,  thni 
Calvinistic  and  American  are  so  nearly  synonpnous  as  to  convey 
the  same  idea. 

It  would  have  appeared  better,  at  least  so  we  judge,  if,  in  seek- 
ing a  name  for  the  new  socict)"-,  our  Baptist  friends  had  recurred  to 
the  fact,  that  there  are  some  who  claim  equally  with  themselves  to 
be  Americans,  and  who  know  nothing  about  their  society  or  iu 
object.  How  7nuch  better,  more  manly,  and  more  independent 
would  it  have  been,  to  have  imitated  rather  the  ajipcllation  of  tluir 
own  society  for  evangelizing  the  world ; — the  Baptist  Board  of 
Foreign  Missions. 

Besides,  the  name  they  have  chosen  had  already  been  adoj/tcJ 


1841.]  Baplisi  Bible  Society.  537 

b}"-  tlie  institution  from  wliich  llicy  saw  proper  to  secede.  The 
words,  "and  foreign,"  arc,  if  not  implied  in  the  title,  fully  expressed 
in  the  conslittitional  object  of  the  old  society,  as  our  separating 
bretlircn  well  knew,  having  received  from  it  large  amounts  to  aid 
tlicm  in  circulating  their  translations  in  foreign  lands.  The  Eng- 
lish Baptists  acted  a  more  manly  part  in  this  matter.  Following 
the  example  of  their  brethren  in  this  country,  the}'  too  have  formed 
a  separate  association.  Tlicy  call  it  the  BiUe  Trrmslation  Society. 
Inelegant,  it  is  true  ;  and  scarcely  granmiatical ;  but  still  expressive, 
and  quite  original. 

Thus  much  may  suflice  with  reference  to  the  name  of  the  new 
concern.  Let  us  turn  our  attention  to  the  causes  which  gave  it 
birth. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  board  of  managers  of  the  American  Bible 
Society,  held  on  the  6lh  of  August,  1S35,  Mr.  Pearce,  a  Baptist 
missionary  at  Calcutta,  made  application  for  fimds  to  aid  in  print- 
ing the  New  Testament  in  the  Bengali  language.  A  simlar  appli- 
cation had  been  previou-sly  made  for  the  same  object  to  the  Calcutta 
Bible  Society,  and  to  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  and 
by  each  denied.  The  reason  for  this  refusal  was  the  fact,  that,  in 
the  ver.-5ion  for  which  aid  was  solicited,  the  Greek  words  v>a'7i;a, 
{haptizo,)  VmiTTitsua,  {baptisma,)  and  their  derivatives,  were  translated 
by  phrases,  v.-hich,  in  that  language,  signify  to  immerse,  immer- 
sion, &c. 

The  request  of  Mr.  Pearce  was  referred  by  the  board  of  mana- 
gers of  the  American  Bible  Society  to  the  committee  on  distribu- 
tion, who  reported  at  the  next  regular  meeting,  to  wit,  on  the  3d  of 
September  following,  that  in  their  opinion  it  was  inexpedient  to 
make  any  appropriation,  until  the  board  settle  a  principle  in  rela- 
tion to  the  Greek  word  Bairrffo.  This  report  having  been  accepted, 
the  whole  subject  was  referred  to  a  special  committee  of  seven, 
which  was  composed  of  one  from  each  of  the  religious  denomina- 
tions represented  in  the  board.  At  the  meeting  in  October,  this 
committee  brought  in  a  report  adverse  to  the  request  of  Mr.  Pearce, 
for  reasons  therein  assigned.  At  the  next  regidar  meeting  the 
wliolc  subject  came  up  again,  and  was  finally  referred  back  to  the 
same  coiumittee  of  seven,  who,  at  a  special  meeting  on  the  19th 
of  November,  made  the  following  report : — 

"  The  committee  to  whom  was  recommitted  the  determining  of  a 


53S  Baptist  Bihh  Society.  [OctoLcr, 

principle  upon  -ivhich  the  American  Bible  Society  will  aid  in  printing 
and  distributing  the  Bible  in  foreign  languages,  beg  leave  to  repuri  ; 

"  That  they  are  of  opinion  that  it  is  expedient  to  witlidraw  tli.ir 
former  report  on  the  particular  case,  and  to  present  the  following  on  the 
general  principle. 

"  By  the  constitniion  of  the  American  Bible  Society  its  managers 
arc,  in  the  circiilalinsi  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  restricted  to  such  co))ios 
as  are  'without  note  or  comment;'  and  in  the  English  language,  to  ihe. 
'version  in  common  use.'     The  design  of  these  restrictions  clearly  } 

seems  to  have  been  to  simplify  and  mark  out  the  duties  of  tlie  society,  h 

so  that   all  religious  donouiinations   of  which  it  is  composed  miglit  'i 

harmoniously  unite  in  pcrforniiiig  these  duties.  "  | 

"As  the  managers  are  now  called  to  aid  extensively  in  circulating  i 

the  .sacred  Scriptures  in  languages  other  than  the  Englisli,  they  duem  i 

it  their  duty,  in  conformity  with  the  obvious  spirit  of  tlicir  compact,  to  | 

adppt  the  following  resolutions  as  the  rule  of  their  conduct  in  making  5 

appropriations   for   the  circtdation   of  the    Scriptures  in   all  fnrrign  | 

tongues.  i 

"  Resolved,  That  in  appropriating  money  for  the  translating,  print-  | 

ing,  or  distributing  the  sacred  Scriptures  in  foreign  languages,  the 
managers  feel  at  liberty  to  encourage  only  such  versions  as  conform  in 
the  principles  of  their  translation  to  the  common  English  vcrsinn,  at 
least  so  far  as  that  all  the  religious  denominations  represented  in  this 
society  can  consistently  use  and  circulate  said  versions  in  their  several 
schools  and  communities. 

"  liesolvcd.  That  a  copy  of  the  above  preamble  and  rcsoluion  he 
sent  to  each  of  the  missionary  boards  accustomed  to  receive  pectniiary 
grants  from  this  society,  with  a  request  that  the  same  may  be  tr:ins- 
mitted  to  their  respective  mission  stations  where  the  Scriptures  are  in 
process  of  translation,  and  also  that  the  said  several  missionary  boards 
bo  informed  that  their  applications  for  aid  be  accompanied  with  a  dec- 
laration that  the  versions  which  they  propose  to  circulate  arc  executed 
in  accordance  with  the  above  resolution." 

After  much  reflection  and  long  deliberation,  the  report  was  ac- 
cepted by  the  board  of  managers ;  and  tlie  resolutions  adopted  as 
rules  fortlieir  futitre  government,  on  the  17th  of  February,  1S:JG. 

In  tlic  following  year,  in  compliance  with  a  call  from  a  connnit- 
tcc  who  liad  been  appointed  for  the  purpose,  a  large  number  of 
delegates  from  Baptist  clmrches  in  different  stales  in  the  Union, 
convened  at  Philadelphia ;  whicli  resulted  in  the  formation  of  die 
"  American  and  Foreign  Bible  Society." 

Previous  to  this,  the  Baptist  members  of  the  board  liad  wiili- 
drawn  from  the  old  society,  and  the  Baptist  Board  of  Foreign  Mis- 
sions had  magnanimously  declined  an  appropriation  of  five  lliousand 
dollars  to  aid  tlicm  in  circulating  the  Scriptures  in  foreign  tongues, 
giving,  as  a  reason,  that  tliey  could  not  consistently  and  conscicn- 


1841.]  Baptist  Bihle  Society.  539 

tiously  comply  with  tlic  conditions  on  wliich  the  appropriation  was 
made. 

It  would  we  think  be  extremely  difficult  for  any  person,  other 
than  a  Baptist,  to  detect  any  thing  like,  sectarianism  iu  the  above 
resolutions  ;  or  to  fuid  in  them  a  justification  for  their  secession  and 
their  new  and  avowedly  hostile  organization.  We  must  allow 
them,  dierefore,  to  speak  for  themselves  in  this  matter. 

The  president  of  the  new  society,  Spencer  H.  Cone,  in  liis  first 
address,  uses  this  language  : — 

"  The  occasion  which  lias  convened  us  is  one  of  surpassing  interest. 
Borne  along  by  circusnstauces  which  wc  could  neither  anticipate  nor 
control,  we  have  been  constrained  to  organize  a  distinct  .';ocicly  for 
the  printing  and  circulation  of  the  sacred  Scriptures.  To  this  course 
we  liave  been  impdlcd,  not  merely  by  the  fact  that  the  Calcutta, 
the  British  and  Foreign,  and  the  American  Bible  Societies  liavc  com- 
EiXED  in  the  determination  to  aflbrd  no  further  aid  to  versions  made 
by  Baptist  missionaries  :  versions  which  obvious  duly  binds  us  proinjiily 
and  adequately  to  sustain  :--but  the  measure  has  been  imperatively 
demanded  by  the  cry  of  the  destitute  ;  by  the  ardent  desire  of  many 
of  our  cliiuclies  to  come  up  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  in  this  matter 
against  the  migldi/ :  [Query  :  the  okl  society  ?]  and  by  the  pecuUar 
facilities  now  aflbrded  us  in  the  glorious  work  of  Bible  distribution.'' — 
Proceedings,  &c.,  p.  IS. 

Thus  speaketh  the  president  in  his  inaugural  address.  We  do 
not  imderstand  exactly  how  the  phrase  "  circumstances  which  we 
could  not  anticipate,"  is  to  be  reconciled  with  the  fact  that  a  similar 
society,  or  rather  a  "provisional  organization,"  had  been  already 
a  year  in  existence,  as  we  learn  from  the  following  resolution,  which 
we  are  told  passed  unanimously  : — 

"Resolved,  That  the  society  formed  in  New- York,  May  13,  1836, 
as  a  provisional  organization,  together  with  all  its  funds,  interests,  and 
responsibilities  be  now  merged  in  the  American  and  Foreign  Ijible 
Society,  organized  by  the  Bible  convention  which  met  in  Pliiladelphia. 
April  26,  1837." 

It  would  seem  as  if  there  had  been  at  least  some  anticipation  of 
this  matter  ;  more  esjiecially,  as  the  president  of  the  incipient  orga- 
nization is  identical  with  the  president  of  the  new  society.  But  let 
that  pass  :  and  look  for  a  moinent  at  the  charge  gravely  brought 
against  the  tlu-ee  principal  Bible  societies  in  the  world :  they  have 
combined,  says  the  president,  to  aflbrd  no  further  aid  to  versions 
made  by  Baptist  missionaries.     By  his  own  showing  there  is  no 


540  Baptist  Bible  Society.  [Octo!)er, 

evidence  of  combination  in  this  matter ;  and,  in  the  same  pamplilct 
from  '.vhich  wc  quote  the  above  extracts  from  the  presidcni's 
speech,  they  tell  us,  that  five  thousand  dollars  had  been  appropriated 
to  their  own  board  of  missions,  with  the  simple  restriction,  that 
their  versions  should  be  such  as  all  the  rehgious  denominations  re- 
presented in  the  society  could  consistently  use  and  circulate  in 
their  schools  and  communities. 

The  same  restriction  accompanies  all  other  appropriations  ;  and  it 
docs  seem  to  us  as  if  no  one  denomination  has  any  more  cause  to 
complain  about  it  than  another.  Indeed,  from  the  very  nature  of 
the  compact,  the  American  Bible  Society  has  no  right  to  aid  in  tlic 
circulation  of  any  other  versions  than  such  as  meet  the  approval  of 
the  religious  denominations  from  whom  their  funds  are  received. 
If  it  has  ever  done  so,  as  oiu:  Baptist  brethren  more  than  insinu- 
ate, it  has  been  done  evidently  llu'ough  ignorance,  caiiscd  by  the 
misrepresentations  of  those  who  have  received  their  bounty. 

The  president  of  the  new  society  observes  further : — 

"  Among  the  errors  and  frauds  which  have  marked  the  rise  and  ])ro- 
gress  of  the  papal  hierarchy,  handling  tlio  word  of  the  Lord  dcccitfidly 
is  not  the  least.  To  keep  back  any  part  of  the  price  ;  to  add  to  or 
take  from  the  words  of  the  book,  is  a  crime  of  no  quLStionablc  clia- 
racter — the  curse  of  the  Almighty  rests  upon  it !" 

All  this  is  very  true  ;  but  what,  the  reader  W'ill  naturally  ask,  has 
this  to  do  with  the  matter  in  controversy  ?  What  justification 
do  these  undoubted  truths  form  for  tlie  establishment  of  the  new 
society?  Why  evidently  none  at  all :  but  hear  the  new  president 
furllier,  and  the  design  of  the  foregoing  remarks  will  be  understood 
and  w^e  shall  arrive  at  the  reason,  and  the  only  reasoir  for  the  new 
organization. 

"  The  Romish  priesthood  have  always  withheld  the  Scriptures  from 
the  laity  as  far  as  practicable  ;  and  when  this  could  no  Ion':;erlie  done, 
their  clTort  has  been  to  obscure  the  light  of  divine  truth,  and  to  incor- 
porate with  their  several  translations  the  distinguishing  dogmas  of  their 
religion.  In  the  accomplishment  of  this  object,  the  transferrin's  of  Greek 
terms  instead  of  translating  them,  lias  proved  to  be  a  most  successful 
device.  .  .  .  We  cannot  but  deeply  deplore  the  effect  of  tliis  systrm 
in  perverting  the  ordinance  of  baptism,  and  establishing  in  its  \thcQ, 
to  a  wide   extent,  infant  sprin/tling,  which  the  learned  and  venerable 

Gill  has  justly  called  '  a  part  and  pillur  of  popeiy.' 'J"hc 

unlearned,  not  being  perniitled  to  read  in  their  own  tongues  wherein 
th-ey  were  born,  what  God  required  of  believers,  were  compelled  to 
rely  upon  their  spiritual  guides,  and  thoy  told  them  that  baptizo  sig- 


1841.1  Baptist  Bible  Society.  541 

nifics  lo  sprinkle,  or  pour,  or  christen And  so  imliappily  one 

of  the  important  ordinances  of  the  gospel,  described  by  the  llol_v  Spi- 
rit as  with  a  sunbeam,  has  been  covered  up,  and  hid  from  the  great 
mass  of  the  people  by  thi:  topish  artifice  or  transfer." — •Proceed- 
ings of  the  Convention,  &c.,  pp.  18,  19. 

Here  we  have  the  \y1io1c  matter  in  a  small  compass.  Whether 
the  president  has  quoted  accurately  from  the  learned  and  venerable 
Gill  -Nve  stop  not  to  inquire ;  nor  shall  we  argue  his  right  to  the 
latter  of  these  titles.  Venerable  he  doubtless  was,  in  his  old  age  ; 
and  we  should  think  childisli,  ratlier  than  learned,  when  he  hazarded 
the  assertion  that  the  baptism  of  mfants  is  a  part  of  that  of  which  he 
says  in  the  same  sentence  it  is  only  a  pillar.  Tlie  old  man  doubtless 
knew  once,  though  possibly  he  had  forgotten,  that  infant  baptism  is 
as  really  and  truly  a  part  of  Protestantism,  as  it  is  of  popery.  The 
president  of  the  new  society  indorses  the  assertion  ;  not  aware, 
perhaps,  of  the  bitter  innuendo  contained  in  it,  that  all  who  hold  to 
infant  sprinkling  are  popish ;  or  to  express  it  more  clearly,  and 
more  absiurdly,  tliat  there  are  onty  two  religious  denominations,  to 
Tvit,  the  Baptists  on  tlic  one  hand,  and  the  Roman  Catholics  on 
tlie  other. 

But  what  is  meant  in  the  above  extract,  by  iransfcrring  Greek 
terms  instead  of  translating  them  ?  Arc  not  baptize,  Baptist,  bap- 
tism, English  words  ?  It  v;oitld  seem  not.  They  are  merely  Greek 
transferred  !  Well,  what  do  our  brethren  propose  to  sttbstitutc  for 
them?  Why  certainly,  immerse,  immerser,  immersion.  But  are 
ihcy  English  words  ?  Not  at  all ;  they  are  no  more  English  than 
the  former,  being  merely  Latin  transferred  ;  and  to  use  them  would 
be  even  a  better  ground  for  the  charge  of  popish  artifice,  than  to 
adopt  the  others ;  the  Latin  being,  as  is  well  kno\^ii,  the  favorite 
language  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 

But  is  our  language  so  barren  as  to  afford  no  English  words  by 
whicli  to  translate,  without  transferring  the  Greek?  Certainly  not. 
We  have  tlie  pm-e  old  Saxon  sprinkle,  sprinkling,  sprinkler,  which, 
according  to  the  best  scholars,  give  as  correct  an  idea  of  the  mean- 
ing of  the  Greek  in  question  as  do  immerse  and  its  cognates  ;  hapto 
being  a  word  that  means  both  to  sprinlde  and  to  immerse.* 

•  This  is  admitted  even  by  our  Baptist  brethren.  They  style  those  religious 
denominations  who  dilTer  from  thera — Pedohaptists.  ^^^lat  do  they  mean  by 
the  plirase  ]  Evidently  those  who  sprinkle  {Sa-riH^u)  children  in  contradistinc- 
tion from  those  who  immerse  (^Ja^rifu)  adults. 


542  Baptist  Bible  Society.  [Oclobcr, 

But  baptism,  we  arc  told,  is  "  a  foreign,  iinmeajiing  term,  a  bar- 
barism," (see  second  Report,  p.  44,)  and  this  too  by  a  sect  who 
call  themselves  Baptists ;  who,  when  occasion  serves,  appear  to 
glory  in  the  barbarism  ;  and,  with  marvelous  inconsistency,  publish 
tlicmselvcs  as  the  "  largest  body  of  baptized  believers  in  the  world." 
— Constitution,  ^-c,  p.  13.  Truly,  it  would  seem  due  to  deco- 
rum and  common  sense,  either  to  abandon  the  use  of  a  foreign, 
unmeaning  term,  or  to  witlida-a\\'  the  charge  of  popish  artifice  from 
those  who  use  the  term  in  common  with  themselves. 

Tiie  fact  is,  as  every  scholar  knows,  there  is  a  vast  number  of 
Avords  in  common  and  daily  use,  which,  although  derived  from 
foreign  languages,  are,  in  reality,  as  truly  English,  and  as  well 
understood,  as  those  which  we  inherit  from  our  Saxon  or  Norman 
ancestors.  The  charge  of  transferring  instead  of  translating  is, 
tlierefore,  puerile  and  absurd. 

Indeed,  for  the  sake  of  consistency,  our  friends  should  abandon 
the  use  of  a  great  many  of  the  most  common  W'Ords  in  the  lan- 
guage ;  and  to  carry  out  their  principles  would  leave  them  a  vciy 
meagre  vocabularj'.  By  what  right,  for  instance,  do  they  talk 
about  the  Bible  1  Why  call  their  society  a  Bible  society  ?  Do 
they  not  know  that  Bible  is  a  mere  transfer,  and  not  a  translation, 
of  the  Greek  word  BifiM,  (Biblos  ?)  Are  they  not  afraid  that  there 
may  be  some  of  the  "  popish  artifice"  in  tliis  ? 

It  would  seem,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  that  their  quarrel  is 
only  with  the  unfortunate  word  chosen  by  themselves  as  their 
peculiar  designation  among  the  tribes  of  God's  Israel.  There  is 
ample  evidence,  we  think,  in  the  documents  before  us,  that  if  the 
American  Bible  Society  would  have  been  so  reckless  of  the  opinions 
and  the  rights  of  other  churches,  as  to  have  assisted  them  in  circu- 
lating versions  in  which  the  word  BoTr-ifu  is  rendered,  to  immerse, 
whatever  might  have  been  theu-  other  inaccuracies,  the  world  would 
never  have  heard  of  this  new  foreign  society. 

But  this  sentiment  is  not  avowed.  It  has  a  little  too  much  the 
appearance  of  sectarianism.  Hence,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  iuld 
in  the  first  animal  report,  p.  1.3  : — ■ 

"It  has  been  frrqucnlly  insuiuatcd,  that  our  chief  concern  was  to 
contend  for  the  traiibhition  of  the  word  baptizo  ;  Init  ibis  certainly  is 
not  our  main  dcsii;!!.  Alihou>;li  we  believe  that  this,  like  every  other 
word  in  the  Bible,  ou^'hl  to  be  faithfully  translated  ;  yet,  as  Baptists, 


1841.]  BcqAist  Bihle  Society.  513 

we  are  contending  for  a  great  principh,  viz.,  llip.t  the  'wliole  of  God's 
word  should  he  failhfuUy  trunslalcd  and  given  to  all  mankind." 

In  the  same  report  (page  12)  they  Icll  us  : — 

"  In  performing  the  duties  assigned  thorn,  they  have  experienced 

great  pleasure  in  the  reflection,  that   this  is   an  enterprise   in  which 

not  only  IJaptisls,  bin   Christians  of  all  denominations  may  meet  on 

*consecrated   ground   and    unite   in  promoting  the  kingdom  of  their 

Redeemer." 

The  second  aruTual  report  informs  us,  that  the  society 

"  Resolved,  as  the  sense  of  this  meeting,  That  the  formation  of  the 
American  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  and  its  eflbrts  to  give  to  the 
nations  of  the  earth  the  Bible  translated,  deserve  the  approval,  and  may 
justly  asli  the  co-operation  of  the  Christian  world." — Second  Rep.,  p.  42. 

Now  all  this  seems  very  far  from  sectarianism.  The  passages 
quoted  breatlie  a  very  amiable  and  catholic  spirit.  We  are  unable, 
however,  to  reconcile  them  with  some  other  little  matters  contained 
in  the  same  reports.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  the  constitution  of  the 
society  we  read  : — 

"  Art.  VI.  Such  life  directors  as  are  members  in  good  standing  of 
[the  church  of  Chriat  ?  no  ;  but  of]  Baptist  churches,  shall  be  members 
of  the  board." 

"  Art.  VIII.  A  board  of  managers  shall  be  appointed  to  conduct  the 
business  of  the  society,  consisting  of  thirty -six  l>rcthrcn  in  good  stand- 
ing in  Baptist  churches,  sixteen  of  whom  shall  reside  in  the  city  of 
New-York,  or  its  vicinity." 

Now  the  difficulty  with  us  is,  why,  if  the  chief  object  of  the  so- 
ciety be  not  to  contend  for  their  peculiar  rendering  of  huptizo,  none 
but  those  who  are  in  good  standing  in  Baptist  churches  may  be- 
come members  of  the  board  of  managers  ?  We  do  not  imderstaud 
either,  how  Christians  of  all  denominations  may  meet  on  conse- 
crated ground,  while,  although  they  seem  willing  to  receive  contri- 
butions from  all  sects,  none  but  Baptists  may  participate  in  the 
management  of  the  funds.  Tlie  "  gi'ound"  on  wliich  they  may  tints 
meet,  "  consecrated"  thougli  it  may  be,  docs  not,  to  say  the  least, 
appear  to  be  level. 

This  discrepanc)^  a]:)pcars  in  a  still  stronger  liglit,  and  the  secta- 
rian object  of  the  new  organization  is  openly  avowed,  and  its  "chief 
concern"  boldly  proclaimed  in  the  constitution  of  the  "Bible 
Translation  Society."  This  society  was  instituted  in  London, 
chiefly  through  the  agency  and  influence  of  the  Rev.  A.  jMacIay, 


514  Baptist  Bible  Society.  [Oclobcr, 

an  agent  of  the  Ajucrican  and  Foreign  Bible  Society.     He  says, 
in  a  letter  to  the  president: — 

"  Dear  Brother  Co^•E, — Wy  mission  to  Great  Britain,  through  the 
divine  blcssinsr,  has  been  crowucJ  with  success.  It  has  aided  in  the 
formation  of  the  Bible  'i'ranshition  Society,  whose  object  is  to  promote 
the  circulation  of  faithful  versions  of  the  sacred  Scriptures  in  all 
languages."  t 

The  second  article  defines  the  object  of  this  society,  and  explains 
what  our  Bajitist  brethren  mean  by  faithful  translations.  It  is  as 
follows  : — 

"  2.  It  shall  be  the  object  of  this  society  to  encourage  the  production 
and  circulation  of  complete  translations  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  com- 
petently aiuhcnlicaled  for  fidelity,  it  hciiig  always  nndcrstood,  lluit  the 
words  relating  lo  the  ordinance  of  baptisji  shall  he  translated  hj  tTnu 

signiflJUIg  I.MMERSION." 

Were  wc  disposed  to  cavil,  there  is  abundant  opportunity  af- 
forded by  the  singular  collocation  of  words  in  this  second  article. 
It  woidd  puzzle  the  framers  of  it  to  reconcile  what  is  said  with 
what  IS  meant.  For  instance,  what  arc  the  words  relating  to  the 
ordinance  of  baptism  ?  And  what  object  woidd  be  gained  by  trans- 
lating iliose  words  by  terms  signifying  immersion  ?  The  fact  is, 
they  meant  to  s-'iy  baptism  shall  be  rendered  ininiersion  in  all  those 
translations,  the  production  of  which  it  is  the  object  of  this  society 
to  encourage. 

We  like  this  second  ai-ticlc.  It  is  honest,  and  honesty  is  refresh- 
ing even  in  a  rustic  garb.  It  tells  us  what  the  object  of  tlie  society 
really  is,  and  avows  that  object  to  be  sectarian. 

But  our  American  and  Foreign  Society,  as  wc  have  seen,  denies 
that  their  object  is  of  this  character.  How  could  an  American 
society  be  sectarian  1  On  the  contrary,  they  are  strictly  catholic, 
and  sectarianism  is  charged  upon  the  society  composed  of  different 
denominations,  from  which  the  Baptist  sect  have  seceded. 

Thus,  the  special  agent  of  the  incipient  organization,  the  Rev.  A. 
Maclay,  writing  from  Mobile,  (wliithcr  he  had  gone  to  collect  funds,) 
under  date  of  April  19,  1837,  being  just  one  week  prexiiovs  to  the 
formation  of  the  new  society,  makes  the  following  observations  : 

"  The  course  adopted  by  the  American  Bible  Society  is  considered 
by  all  our  Baptist  brethren,  and  by  many  Pcdobaptists  of  the  highest 
respectability,  as  unconstitutional,  unjust,  and  unkind.  In  short,  as 
decidedly  sectarian;  and  therefore  hostile  to  the  original  design  of  that 


1841.]  Baptist  Bihlc  Society.  545 

noble  institulion.  Our  brethren  consider  ilie  course  adopted  by  Bible 
societies  in  three  quarters  of  the  globe  as  an  unholy  lkague  to  svp- 
prcss  a  part  of  the  eternal  truth  of  Gotl,  and  that  it  must  meet  with  his 
disajiprobatio)),  and  also  the  disapprobation  of  all  enlightened  Chris- 
tians."—  Constitution,  ij-c,  Appendix,  p.  73. 

This  is  rntlicr  severe.  It  is  indor.<;cd  by  the  society;  and,  as 
evidence  lliat  they  believe  it  just  and  true,  they  have  printed  it  in 
a  pamphlet  inscribed  on  the  title-page  "  \^licad  and  circulate." 
Much  more  to  the  same  purpose  may  be  gathered  from  the  several 
animal  reports.  Wotild  a  reader,  unacquainted  with  the  facts,  sup- 
pose that  the  course  of  the  American  Bible  Society,  referred  to  above, 
and  there  declared  to  be  "unconstitutional,"  "unjust,"  "unkind," 
and  "  sectarian,"  was  nothing  more  than  the  adoption  of  a  resolution 
to  aid  in  the  circulation  of  such  versions  of  the  Scriptures  only  as 
all  religious  denominations  represented  in  the  society  cait  consist- 
ently use  and  circulate  ?  And  yet  this  is  all,  as  may  be  seen  by 
referring  to  the  resolutions  quoted  on  a  previous  page.  Tlie  vision 
of  "  all  our  Baptist  brethren"  must,  indeed,  be  very  keen  to  dis- 
cover all  these  bad  things  in  a  resolution  which,  in  the  simplicity 
of  our  hearts,  we  looked  upon  as  evidence  of  a  truly  catholic  and 
fraternal  .spirit.  But  "  ma?ii/  Pedobaptists  of  the  highest  respecta- 
bility" sec  also  this  injustice,  unkindness,  and  sectarianism.  Truly 
if  tliis  be  so,  we  marvel  that  an  exxeption  in  their  favor  has  not  been 
added  to  the  constitution  of  the  new  society.  It  woidd  add  greatly 
to  its  character,  if  a  portion  of  this  "  highest  respectability"  might 
be  infused  into  its  board  of  managers. 

But  wliat  do  they  mean  by  the  "unholy  league  to  suppress  a 
part  of  the  eternal  truth  of  God  .<"'  Why,  simply,  that  the  three 
prominent  Bible  societies,  the  British  and  Foreign,  the  Calcutta, 
and  the  American,  have  adopted  similar  resolutions  with  reference 
to  the  appropriation  of  their  funds.  Each  of  them  has  declared 
its  readiness  to  aid  in  an)'  translations,  by  whomsoever  made,  with 
the  simple  proviso,  that  they  shall  conform  to  that  version  used 
equally  by  Baptists  and  other  religious  denominations. 

This  charge  of  suppressing  a  part  of  the  truth  of  God  is  reite- 
rated in  every  possible  form  of  expression  tliroughout  all  the  official 
publications  of  the  new  society.  The  quarterly  papers  issued  from 
their  office  are  adorned  with  a  wood-cut  representing  an  open  book, 
on  which  is  printed  in  capitals,  The  Bible  transl.\ted.    The 


546  Baptist  Bible  Socictt/.  [October, 

object  of  wliicli  is,  without  doubt,  to  point  out,  as  their  distinguish- 
ing pecuharily,  ihc  translation  of  tlic  word  of  God,  in  opposition  to 
all  others,  who,  accordiiig  to  their  statements,  merely  transfer  it. 

In  the  report  of  their  incijiient  oigaiiizatioii  (p.  21)  they  tell  us, 
in  capitals  as  here  printed  : — 

"  This  is  the  first  llible  society,  formed  under  the  direction  of  the 
Bajitist  denomination  v\-ith  the   avo^ved  intenuon  of  giving  to  thk 

WHOLE    WORLD   A   LITERAL   TRANSLATION   OF    THE   WORD    OF    GoD." 

Again  : —  j 

'■  The  board  of  managers  are  satisfied,  that  the  providence  of  God  ;^ 

has  made  it  the  duty  of  Baptists  to  give  to  the  whole  iDorld  a  faithful  'i 

tran^hilion  of  the  icholc  Bihlc." — Ibid.,  j).  5\.                                          '  | 

Again : —  | 

"  To  cast  a  veil  of  obscurity  over  any  part  of  that  revelation  which  | 

God  has  given  to  man  must  be  a  sin,  for  it  opens  a  wide  avenue  for  2 

the  introduction  of  errors.     And,  to  communicate  any  part  of  the  will  I 

of  God  in  words  that  have  no  defmile  meaning,  when  it  may  be  clearly  | 

expressed,  must,  assuredly,  be  casting  a  veil  over  it  that  greatly  ob-  | 

Ecures  or  conceals  from  the  anxious  reader  the  mind  of  the  Spirit." —  | 

Iljid.,  p.  G7.  Letter  of  A.  Bingham.  % 

Brother  IMaclay,   of  whom  we    ha^-e   already  made  honorable  | 

mention,  in  tlic  same  report,  pp.  73-4,  says  of  the  now  society: —  | 

"  Its  object  is  to  gWo  faithful  translations  of  the  Bible  to  the  nations  I 

of  the  earth,  without  anj'  human  addition,  diminution,  or  coaceahncnt,  i 

v:hich  cannot  be  nJJJiincd  (f  any  other  Bible  society  in  the  world;  for  it  I 

would  seem  that  tttcy  arc  more  zealous  to  conceal  from  the  nations  the 
real  meaning  of  the  ordinance  of  baptism  than  to  give  the  unadulte- 
rated Bible  of  God  to  inuu." 

In  the  second  annual  report  we  are  favored  with  a  flaming 
speech  of  R.  W.  Cusliman,  from  which  we  make  a  short  extract. 
He  is  speaking  of  the  resolutions  of  the  American  Bible  Society, 
already  quoted,  and  says  : — 

"  Thus  is  a  principle  adopted  for  their  future  operations  in  Bible 
translation  which  requires  the  missionaries  of  the  Baptist  denomina- 
tion, in  giving  light  to  those  who  are  sitting  in  darkness  and  the 
shadow  of  death,  to  hold  back  and  cover  vp  a  part  of  the  truth,  as  the 
price  of  tlic  aid  of  the  society  in  disclosing  the  rest." — Second  Report, 
page  46. 

In  the  appendix  to  the  third  report,  we  find  the  copy  of  a  letter 
to  tlie  Baptist  churches  in  Great  Britain,  from  the  board  of  managers 
of  the  American  and  Foreign  Bible  Society.     This  is  an  official 


1811.]  Baptist  Bihlc  Societij.  547 

document,  and  bears  tlic  signatures  of  Spencer  IT.  Cone,  (the  pre- 
sident,) William  Parkinson,  and  Charles  G.  Somers,  (the  corre- 
sponding secretarj'.)  The  reader  will  perceive  the  object  of  the 
letter,  and  the  motive  presented  to  advance  that  object,  from  the 
following  extract : — 

"  We  particularly  hope,  lliat  m  the  publication  of  faithful  versions 
of  (he  Bible  in  all  lands,  we  may,  ere  long,  obtain  the  active  co-opera- 
tion of  every  Baptist  in  Great  Britain.  Let  the  churches  of  our  deno- 
mination but  unite  their  energies  in  this  great  work,  and  they  will  make 
ihcir  influence  to  be  felt  throughout  the  world.  Why  should  they  not 
thus  unite,  when  it  is  known  that  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  So- 
ciety and  the  American  Bible  Society  have  virtually  combined  to  obscure 
at  hast  apart  of  the  divine  revelation." — Third  Report,  p.  44. 

Now  this  is  a  very  serious  charge.  It  is  coolly  and  deliberately 
made.  It  is  repeated  and  reiterated  in  reports,  letters,  speeches, 
and  official  documents.  It  is  scattered  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  tiie  land.  It  is  wafted  across  the  waters,  and  a  special 
messenger  is  sent,  and  paid,  to  disseminate  it  from  one  end  of 
Great  Britain  to  the  other. 

What  is  the  charge  ?  Obscuring  the  divine  revelation.  Holding 
back  and  covering  up  a  part  of  the  truth.  Entering  into  an  unholy 
league  to  suppress  a  part  of  the  eternal  truth  of  God. 

Against  whom,  and  by  whom,  is  this  charge  preferred  ?  Against 
the  great  niass  of  evangelical  Christians  in  England  and  in  Aine- 
rica  by  one  sect  in  the  United  States,  who  have  thought  proper  to 
exercise  an  undoubted  right  by  establishing  a  scjjarate  Bible  asso- 
ciation. In  a  word,  the  Baj)tists  charge  these  things  upon  their 
Christian  brethren  of  every  other  name  who  compose  the  British 
and  Foreign  and  the  American  Bible  Society,  and  by  means  of 
whose  prayers  and  liberality  those  institutions  rank  first  in  their 
influence  and  their  success  among  the  benevolent  associations  of 
the  age. 

The  charitable  reader  will  hope  that  such  accusations  against 
such  institutions  must  have  been  made  in  ignorance  of  their  full 
import.  But  what  says  the  president  of  the  society,  in  the  address 
from  which  we  have  already  ciuoted  ?  "  To  add  to,  or  take  from, 
the  words  of  the  Book,  is  a  crime  of  no  questionable  character — 
THE  CURSE  OF  THE  Ai.MicHTY  RESTS  UPON  IT." — Constitution, 
4-c.,  p.  18. 

The  charge  is  made,  then,  understandiugly.     The  curse  of  the 


5-18  Baptist  Bihlc  Society.  [October, 

Almiglity,  they  tell  the  world,  rests  upon  every  Bible  society  ex- 
cept tlieir  own ;  for  all  others  not  only  obscure  God's  rcvchition, 
but  have  entered  into  an  unholy  league  for  that  purpose.  "  For 
my  part,"  said  uncle  Toby,  when  Trim  had  finished  reading  the 
prescribed  form  of  anathema  pronounced  against  those  exconmai- 
iiicated  from  the  Roman  Church,  "  for  iiiy  part,  Trijii,  I  could  not 
find  it  in  mv  heart  to  curse  a  dog  after  that  fashion."  | 

The  reader  will  bear  with  us  in  making  another  extract  relative  i 

to  this  cursing  business,  revolting  as  is  the  subject  to  every  Chris-  | 

tian  of  correct  feeling.     In  the  report  of  their  operations  during  the  | 

year  of  their  provisional  organization,  (pp.  50,  51,)  the  mniingcrs  \ 

of  the  new  society,  after  detailing  at  some  length  their  gricvanccsj  | 

and  the  wrongs  they  endured  from  the  Calcutta,  the  British  and  | 

Foreign,  and  the  American  Bible  Societies,  go  on  to  say  : —  | 

"  Upon  thoir  conduct  in  this  case  we  pause  not  now  to  animadvert.  J 

To  tlioir  own  blaster  they  must  stand  or  fall  when  every  man  sliall  he  | 

judgod  according  to  his  works.     Some  years  since,  sa)'  the  Baptist  | 

missionaries  in  IJcngal,  three  of  the  Pedobaptist  brethren,  unknown  to  j 

us,  ihoui;h  on  the  most  friendly  terms  with  us,  wrote  to  the  Bible  so-  'a 

cioty  in  England,  requesting  them  not  to  gice  assistance  to  any  IniJian  | 

version  in  irhicli  the  icord  '  baptize'  was  translated  to  'immerse.''     None  I 

or  THESU  .MI:N'   lived  to  see  the  EErLY  TO  THEIR  APl-'LICATIOX."  J 

Wc  liavc  quoted  this  passage,  including  the  italics  and  capitals,  | 

precisely  as  wo  find  it.     There  is  a  note  on  page  43  of  the  second  | 

annual  report,  ^\hich,  taken  in  connection  with  the  preceding  ex-  | 

tract,  will  help  the  reader  to  understand  the  quo  animo  of  these  \ 

rc])orts.     It  refers  to  the  same  subject : —  \ 

'•They  [the  Baptist  missionaries  in  India]  had  previously  failed  in  | 

nn  application  to  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  in  consequence  J 

of  the  interference  of  three  Pedobaptist  missionaries,  who,  though  ap-  | 

parcntly  on  the  most  friendly  terras  with  the  Baptist  missionaries,  had,  | 

unknown  to  them,  written  to  that  society,  requesting  it  not  to  give  \ 

assistance  to  any  Indian  versions  in  which  the  word  jia-nTli^a  was  trans-  I 

lated,  to  iinmerso.     What  injnries  are  to  result  to  the  interests  of  I 

Christianity  from  the  compliance  of  the  BrUish  and  Foreign  Bible  \ 

Society  with  their  request,  and  the  imitation  of  its  example  by  the  J 

American  Bible  Society,  He  alone,  who  can  see  the  end  of  all  things, 
can  tell ;  but  it  is  an  awful  n  flection  that  not  one  of  those  three  men 
was  permitted  to  have  the  gratification  of  receiving  the  tidings  of  his 
success.  When  the  news  of  the  refusal  of  that  society  to  grant  the 
aid  which  our  brethren  liad  solicited  reached  Calcutta,  they  had  all 
been  called  to  TC7uhr  an  account  of  their  stewardship  to  God." 


18-11.]  Bapfisi  Bible  Socicly.  549 

With  one  litllc  exccplion,  we  do  not  question  the  truth  of  tlic 
facts  licre  stated.  The  missionaries  to  wliom  alUision  is  made, 
instead*  of  "  requesting,"  if  we  are  correctly  informed,  merely 
suggested  the  propriety  of  having  all  versions  of  the  Scriptures 
made  in  such  a  way  that  different  denominations  of  Christians 
could  unite  in  iising  them.  It  is  true  that  these  brethren,  having 
labored  faithfully  in  that  pagan  land,  were  called  home  by  the 
gi-eat  Head  of  the  church  when  their  work  was  done.  True  that 
this  happened  previous  to  the  reception  of  information  by  the  Bap- 
tist missionaries  in  India  that  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society 
would  not  coimtenance  sectarian  versions  of  the  word  of  life.  But 
O,  what  is  the  spirit  that  dictated  the  manner  in  which  these  truths 
are  promulgated  in  the  reports  before  us  !  It  is  bad  enough  to 
slander  the  living ;  to  intimate,  as  we  have  seen,  that  the  curse  of 
God  rests  upon  the  Bible  societies  of  Europe,  Asia,  and  America. 
But  to  revile  the  dead — and  those  dead,  men  who  hazarded  tlicir 
lives  to  proclaim  Jesus  and  the  resurrection  to  the  perishing  hea- 
then ;  to  tear  open  the  half-healed  wounds  of  hearts  that  bled  when 
they  heard  that  God  had  called  tlicm  from  the  cross  to  the  crown ; 
to  intimate,  that  after  all  their  sacrifices,  and  toils,  and  suffering.-^, 
they  died  accursed ;  to  say  of  such  men,  and  to  say  it  with  appa- 
rent delight,  that  their  being  called  to  render  an  account  of  their 
stewardship  to  God  is  an  "  awful  reflection ;"  to  blacken  their 
memory,  now  that  they  may  not  meet  the  slander,  by  charging 
upon  them  injuries  to  the  cause  of  Christianity  which  God  only  ] 

can  estimate  ;  these  are  things  which  human  language  lacks  energy  ; 

adequately  to  characterize.  I 

"They  were  not  permitted  to  have  the  gratification  of  receiving  j 

the  tidings  of  their  success."     That's  a  mistake  !    The  tidings  of  ! 

their  success  reached  heaven  before  those  tidings  arrived  in  India. 
They  had  the  gratification  of  receiving  thcui  while  in  tlie  midst  of  j 

the  spirits  of  the  just  before  the  eternal  throne.  ! 

Tiic  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that  our  knowledge  of  the  facts 
upon  which  we  have  felt  it  a  duty  thus  to  animadvert  is  all  derived 
from  the  publications  of  the  new  institution.     We  have  looked  in  j 

vain  for  any  retaliatory  remarks  in  the  reports  of  the  American 
Bible  Society.  We  ai-e  not  able  to  find  therein  even  a  solitary 
allusion  to  the  secession  of  our  brethren,  or  to  the  very  strange 
reasons  given  for  it.     Conscious  of  their  integrity,  the  board  of 

Vol.  I.— 35 


550  Baptist  Bible  Society.  [October, 

managers  have  left  unnoticed  these  aspersions  of  character,  these 
imputations  of  motive,  these  cliargcs  of  sectarianism.  Like  Him, 
wliose  unaduhcralcd  word  it  is  tlieir  object  to  give  to  the  fiaticns 
of  the  earth,  being  reviled,  thc)^  revile  not  again.  Their  course  in 
this  Tcspcct  has  been  worthy  of  the  cause  in  which  the)"-  are  en- 
gaged. It  is  honorable,  dignified,  Christ-like.  But  their  silence 
in  this  matter  is  no  reason  why  the  friends  of  that  noble  institution 
should  be  silent  also,  any  more  than  the  conduct  of  the  Saviour 
would  be  a  valid  reason  for  neglecting  to  defend  him  and  his  mis- 
sion from  the  sneers  of  the  scoffer,  or  the  slander  of  the  blas- 
phemer.* 

Wc  have  no  expectation  that  our  brethren  will  be  induced  to 
iclracl  any  thing  tliey  have  said,  or  to  retrace  their  steps.  But  we 
do  not  therefore  esteem  our  labor  vain.  Nobody  su})poses  that  a 
putrefying  carcass  may  be  restored  to  Hfe  by  the  dissecting  knife 
of  the  surgeon ;  but  dissection,  though  an  unpleasant  task,  is  not 
therefore  unnecessary. 

Tlie  managers  of  the  new  society  are  careful  to  inform  the  public 
that  tliey  liave  met  with  opposition  and  reproach  in  their  new  en- 
terprise. It  is  fair,  inasmuch  as  a  knowledge  of  these  facts  is  to 
be  obtained  from  no  other  source,  that  they  should  be  allowed  to 
speak  for  themselves  on  this  subject.  President  Cone,  in  his  ad- 
dress, as  found  on  page  9  of  the  first  annual  report,  says  : — 

"  Our  separate  action  in  the  Bible  ca\tsc  has  been  ascribed  to  pride, 
to  sectarianism,  to  passion ;  some  have  recklessly  named  motives  still 
more  ofl'ensive." 

J\Ir.  Cushman,  in  his  speech,  as  given  in  the  second  annual 
report,  page  49,  speaking  of  the  efforts  of  the  new  society,  informs 
us  tliat 

"  Not  a  little  has  been  said  and  written  about  sectarianism  and 
bigotry;  about  embarrassing  missionarj'  operations,"  &c. 

Iir  the  third  report,  our  friend  Maclaj',  to  whom  we  have  already 
acknowledged  our  obligations,  is  permitted  to  indulge  himself  in 

*  The  publication  of  a  liule  pamphlet  on  the  subject  of  Bible  translations, 
just  issued  by  the  board  of  managers,  (Feln-uar}',  1811,)  docs  not  at  all  invali- 
date the  force  or  the  i)rui)rii-'t_v  of  these  remarks.  On  the  contrary,  every  un- 
prejudiced reader,  while  ho  cannot  fail  to  be  convinced  by  the  arjjumcnts  and 
facts  therein  presented,  will  admire  the  moderation  and  candor  with  which  they 
are  clothed. 

35* 


1841.]  Jlaptist  Bihlc  Societij.  551 

the  pcculiariiies  of  his  style  as  to  wlial  is,  and  will  be.  He  ap- 
pears lo  know  as  much  about,  the  future  as  he  docs  of  tlic  present 
and  the  past  :— 

"  It  makes  my  heart  ache,"  he  says,  "  to  hear  the  measured  [Qu., 
nnmeasured  ?]  language  of  adulation,  at  times  made  use  of,  in  reference 
to  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  : — a  society  that  has  treated 
us  with  injustice  and  contempt,  and  by  their  actions  say,  that  they 
■would  rather  sec  the  heathen,  perish  in  their  idolatry,  ignorance,  and  un- 
belief, than  give  them  a  Bible  that  shall  inform  them  the  exact  mind 
of  the  Holy  .Spirit  on  the  subject  of  baptism  !  .  .  .  I  feel,  however,  per- 
suaded that  English  Baptists  will  be  compelled  to  go  right  ahead,  and 
maintain  their  ground  with  firnniess,  fc^r  the  Tcralh  of  a  whole  host  of 
infant  sprinklers  will  be  down  upon  them  immediately." — Letter  dated 
Bristol,  England,  April  13,  ISIO,  3d  Report,  p.  67. 

B)'  the  designation  which  we  have  printed  in  italics  in  the  last 
quotation,  the  writer  evidently  means  the  numerous  divisions  of  the 
Cliristian  chiu-cli  who  dedicate  their  little  ones  to  Almighty  God  by 
baptism.  It  is  rather  an  uncourteous  appellation,  and,  we  think, 
not  classical.  The  prediction,  w^e  hope,  will  not  be  fulfilled.  So, 
we  trust,  hopes  also  its  author,  even  though  he  thereby  loses  his 
reputation  as  a  prophet.  The  "wrath  of  the  infant  sprinklers," 
who  compose  nineteen-twentieths  of  God's  Israel,  will  not  "be 
down  upon"  any  one  of  the  tribes,  whatever  be  the  provocation 
given,  or  the  insolence  indulged  in ;  at  least,  not  until  the  angel 
flying  in  tlie  midst  of  heaven  has  proclaimed  the  everlasting  gospel 
to  every  nation,  and  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people :  and  then, 
there  will  be  no  revolting  tribe  to  challenge  or  deserve  their  A'STath. 

We  have  given  a  fair  specimen  of  the  charges  and  accusations 
which  our  brethren  tell  us  they  have  had  to  meet  since  their  new 
organization.  They  are  all,  like  those  we  have  quoted,  vague  and 
indefuiile.  We  are  told  tliat  such  things  have  been  said,  but  we 
are  not  told  by  whom,  or  where,  or  when. 

There  is,  however,  in  the  "  provisional  report"  a  letter  signed 
E.  D.  Fcndall,  which  seems  a  little  more  specific  in  the  nature  of 
its  cliarges.  As  it  has  some  reference  to  a  branch  of  the  church 
with  which  we  are  connected,  our  readers  will  pai'don  us  for  quoting 
from  it  at  some  length.     It  is  dated 

"  Ccilardlle,  Decanhcr  3,  1S35. 
"Dear  Brotukr, — When  I  providentially  came  to  this  place  last 
June,  I  found  the  whole  community  in  a  state  of  extreme  agitation,  and 
the  theme  of  all  conversation  was  the  new  Baptist  Bible ;  almost  every 


552  Baptist  Bible  Socicti/.  [October, 

hour  I  was  asked  the  quostion, '  Have  you  seen  the  new  Baptist  Bible  1 
and  when  I  replied  negati\ely,  together  with  the  declaration  that  I  had 
not  heard  there  was  sueh  a  '  new  Bilile,'  the  inquirers  were  astonished, 
to  think  of  my  coming;  direct  Ironi  l^hiladelphia  to  this  remote  place, 
without  sceini;  or  knowing-  any  thing  of  '  that  sacrilegious  attempt  to 
make  a  new  IJililo" — and  ihat  the  said  Baptist  Bible  was  now  in  circu- 
lation. The  ell'ect  which  these  reports  had  was  of  an  unhappy  nature. 
The  Baptist  cause  was  at  a  low  ebb.  The  few  Baptists  themselves 
were  almost  read)'  to  believe  that  there  was  indeed  a  new  Bible  to  be 
imposed  upon  them  by  a  '  Baptist  ecclesiastical  council,'  of  the  nature 
of  '  the  General  Assembly'  or  '  the  General  Conference,'  so  boldly  were 
tliese  reports  uttered.  The  friends  of  the  Baptist  cause  began  to  regret 
that  they  had  declared  themselves  friendly  to  such  innovators  ;  every 
thing  looked  gloomy — and  I  felt  that  it  was  high  time  to  examine  into 
the  thing.     I  asked"  where  the  reports  came  from,  and  they  were  all 

traced  to  ;Mr. ,  a  Methodist  local  preacher,  who  was  very  busy  in 

riding  throughout  the  whole  country,  spreading  the  report ;  and,  not 
content  with  endeavoring  to  make  enemies  to  the  Baptist  cause,  in 
one  instance  he  went  to  the  house  of  an  old  Baptist  lady,  who  is  in 
her  dotage,  and  told  her  that'  the  Baptists  were  making  a  new  Bible, 
and  that  they  were  going  to  take  all  the  old  ones  from  their  members. 
This  good  old  sister,  who  was  very  much  attached  to  her  old-fashioned 
Baptist  Bible,  was  nearly  frantic  at  the  thought  of  losing  her  Bible, 
and  declared  that  they  should  never  have  it :  for  she  '  would  hide  it 
and  fight  for  it.'  This  is  but  one  instance  out  of  many  of  a  similar 
kind.  I  sent  to  this  'Alexander  the  coppersmith'  a  copy  of  the  con- 
stitution of  the  American  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  and  positively 
contradielcd  the  reports  in  circulation,  and  soon  convinced  the  reason- 
able part  of  the  people  of  the  absurdit)'  of  the  thing,  from  the  nature 
of  the  Baptist  churches,  each  being  i.\depi:n'dent.  Another  report 
which  this  man  circulated  was,  that  the  Baptists  already  had  a  trans- 
lation of  the  New  Testament,  which  they  had  adopted,  and  that  it  was 
by  Alexander  Campbell,  a  Baptist  preacher  of  Virginia.  I  soon  let 
ihcin  into  the  real  secret,  that  the  honesty  of  such  men  as  Drs.  Camp- 
bell and  -Mackiiight,  of  the  church  of  Scotland,  would  not  allow  them 
to  tran.sfir  a  word  that  could  be  translated." — Proceedings,  <^-c.,  p.  79. 

Our  knowledge  of  geography  does  not  enable  us  to  inform  tlie 
reader  wlierc  Cedarvillc  is  ;  and  ahhongh  our  acquaintance  with 
the  ministry  of  the  I\Ietbodist  Episcopal  Cliurch  is  somewhat  ex- 
tensive, it  is  insufficient  to  identify  the  local  preacher  above  alluded 
to  witli  any  living  reality'.  Whoever  he  was,  he  might  have  been 
better  employed  than  in  "riding  throughout  the  whole  country, 
spreading  the  report."  We  were  in  the  country  at  that  time,  and 
it  is  certain  he  never  called  on  us  with  his  report,  or  we  should 
most  assuredly  have  told  him  so.  It  seems,  however,  from  the 
above  letter,  that  tlicre  is,  or  was,  such  a  thing  as  a  Baptist  Bible ; 


1841.]  Baptist  Bible  Society.  553 

but  then  it  was  not  a  new,  but  an  "  olJ-fasliioncd  Baptist  Bible," 
to  wliicli  tills  good  old  sister — "  in  her  dotage" — was  very  much 
attached. 

Let  us  now  turn  our  attention  to  the  results  cflccted  by  tlic  new 
society.  The  amount  of  receipts,  according  to  the  treasurer's 
reports,  is  as  follows  : — 

During  the  first  year,  including  a  balance  from  llio 

incipient  organization $38,714  6G 

Second  year 24,7'15  75 

Third  year 25,812  22 

These  amounts  indicate  liberality  on  the  part  of  the  donors,  and  arc 
evidence  of  the  zeal  by  which  tlie  new  society  has  been  charac- 
terized. Thc}^  are  certainly  much  larger  than  was  ever  derived 
for  this  object  from  the  same  som'ces  in  any  one  year  previous  to 
the  new  organization.  In  fact,  so  far  as  can  be  ascertained,  the 
average  of  these  first  three  years  exceeds  the  whole  amount  of 
unrestricted  donations  received  from  Baptists  by  the  American 
Bible  Society  during  the  whole  period  of  its  existence.  It  is  clear, 
moreover,  that  there  has  been  no  diminution  in  the  receipts  of  the 
last-named  institution  since  the  establishment  of  the  new  society. 
And  hence,  it  would  seem,  that,  so  far  as  raising  money  is  con- 
cerned, the  withdrawal  of  our  Baptist  brethren  has  been  of  bene- 
ficial tendency;  the  hbcrality  of  multitudes  who  had  previously 
given  little  or  nothing  for  the  dissemination  of  the  word  of  life 
having  been  thereby  excited.  Whether  this  will  continue  to  be 
the  case  when  the  charm  of  novelty  is  worn  off,  remains  to  be 
seen.  At  any  rate,  there  has  been  a  very  great  falling  off  in  the 
}nmibcr  of  auxiliary  societies  recognized  by  the  new  parent  insti- 
tution since  its  formation  in  1837.  Thus,  as  we  learn  from  the 
lliii-d  aimual  report,  pp.  86,  87,  there  were  recognized,  during  the 
year  1837,  no  less  than  sixty-four  auxiliaries;  during  1838,  only 
eighteen  ;  and  in  1839,  only  nine. 

The  greater  ])arl  of  the  moneys  received  by  the  society  has  been 
appropriated  to  the  Baptist  General  Convention  for  missionary  pur- 
poses, to  aid  in  printing  and  circulating  the  Scriptures  in  foreign 
lands.  Indeed,  the  sole  professed  design  of  its  original  organiza- 
tion was  to  assist  foreign  translations ;  and  a  resolution,  contem- 
plating, as  one  of  the  objects  of  the  new  socict}-,  the  circulation  of 


554  Baptist  Bible  Societi/.  [October, 

an  English  version  was,  aflcr  discussion,  negatived  by  the  con-  \ 

vcntion  which  formed  the  society.  | 

How  could  it,  be  otherwise  ?    Tlic  grand  reason  for  calling  the  | 

now  instittilion  into  existence  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  incorrect-  j 

iiess  of  the  common  English  version,  a  "transfen-ed  instead  of  trans-  I 

laled  Bible,"  one  "  full  of  popish  artifice,"  and,  "  instead  of  shedding  | 

the  pure  light  of  God's  revelation,  hiding  it  in  an  eclipse,  or,  at  best,  \ 

giving  it  in  dim  and  sickly  twilight."     By  such  and  similar  exprcs-  i 

sions  is  the  commonly  received  Bible  characterized  by  our  brethren,  i 

as  may  be  seen  in  their  resolutions,  letters,  speeches,  and  reports,  ] 

2)assi7n.     Of  course,  they  could  not  conscientiously  aid  in  the  cir-  j 

culation  of  such  a  Bible,  and,  not  feeling  competent  to  the  task  of  J 

a  new  translation,  their  efforts  were,  at  first,  confined  to  the  circu-  ;, 

lalion  of  foreign  versions  :  leaving  the  Pedobaptists,  which  is,  by  i 

interpretation,  "  the  infant  sprinklers,"  to  bear  the  guilt  of  lockin.g  I 

up  God's  lioly  word  in  a  dead  language.  i 

But  at  the  next  annual  meeting  of  the  society,  to  wit,  on  the  a 

26th  of  April,  1 S33,  the  constitution  was  amended,  and  it  v.'as  | 

"  Resolved,  That  in  the  distribution  of  the  Scriptures  in  the  English  \ 

language,  thfv  •will  use  the  commonly  received  version,  until  otherwise  | 

directed  by  the  society."  | 

I 

In  the  annual  rcjjort  for  that  year,  (1S3S,)  the  managers  of  the  '| 

new  society  make  the  following  observations  relative  to  this  branch  j 

of  their  operations  : —  | 

"  It  is  an  important  consideration,  that  in  the  southern  and  western  \ 

stales,  which  will,  ])robably,  witlmi  a  few  years  give  laws  to  the  whole 
nation,  ko  have  ^reaier  facilities  for  circulating  the  Bible  than  all  other 
denominations,  bcTausc,  there,  Baptists  are  decidedly  the  majoritv. 
If  our  Home  ?iIission  Society  is  under  obligations  to  traverse  those 
destitute  parts  of  our  land  and  preach  to  them  the  gospel,  is  it  not  our 
appropriate  work  to  supply  ihem  with  the  Bible  ?  Can  it  be  the  duty 
of  American  Baptists  to  send  the  Scriptures  to  foreign  nations,  and 
remain  luimovcd  by  compassion  for  their  own  countrymen  1  Shall  we 
permit  tens  of  thousands,  bono  of  our  bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh,  to 
perish  at  our  doors  for  want  of  tlie  bread  of  life  ?  Besides,  suppose 
the  American  liiblc  Society  should  be  restricted  to  the  foreign  field- 
how  long  would  that  institution  eujoy  the  patronage  of  the  American 
public?  No  iibji'ttion  has  been  heard  against  tlicir  publishing  tlie 
English  BibK',  why.  then,  should  an  interdict  be  laid  upon  the  Ameri- 
can and  Foreign  Bible  Society?  Surely  it  cannot  be  because  Baptists 
have  more  coniideuce  in  the  managers  of  a  Pcdobaptist  institution  than 
in  the  integrity  of  their  own  brcdiren. 


1841.]  Baptist  Blhh  SocicUj.  555 

"If  the  efforts  of  llic  American  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  were  to 
be  limited  to  a  foreign  field,  it  would,  in  the  history  of  Bible  societies, 
be  an  institution  without  a  j)rcccdent — it  would  necessarily  be  feeble 
and  inefficient;  and  who  can  doubt  that  many  would  withhold  tjieir 
contributions,  while  the  kindling  zeal  of  thousands  would  thus  be  in 
danger  of  extinction. 

"  But  't)ie  word  of  God  is  not  bound.'  Let  the  American  and  Fo- 
reign Bible  Society  be  unlrammcled  by  any  restrictions — let  it  be 
what  its  name  imports — let  it  be  a  BIBLE  SOCIETY  FOR  THE 
WHOLE  WORLD,  and  our  denomination  will  act  together  in  the 
glorious  work  of  giving  a  copy  of  the  divine  oracles  to  every  acces- 
sible family  upon  the  globe.  The  board  of  managers  confidently  be- 
lieve that  upon  this  plan,  thousands  who  have  always  refused  to  act 
with  the  American  Bible  Society  will  co-operate  with  us,  in  dissemi- 
nating '  the  most  fiiilhful  versions'  of  the  Scriptures  among  all  nations." 
—Report,  pp.  35,  3G. 

We  were  not  before  aware  tliat  the  Baptists  are  "decidedly  llic 
majorirj'"  in  the  soutlicrn  and  western  states.  There  are,  we 
know,  manj'  Presbyterians,  and  not  a  very  small  portion  of  ]\lclli- 
odists,  in  those  regions,  lo  say  nothing  of  other  denominations  ; 
and  had  wc  met  this  assertion  anywhere  else  than  in  tlie  dignified 
report  of  an  "American"  society,  we  should  have  considered  it  a 
wilful  misstatement,  or,  at  best,  an  ignorant  exaggeration. 

"  Why  should  an  interdict  be  laid  upon  the  American  and  Foreign 
Bible  Society?"  Sure  enough — wliy?  Wlio  lias  attempted  to  lay 
any  interdict  upon  it  ?  Nobody,  so  far  as  we  know.  Consistency, 
indeed,  would  seem  to  urge  upon  them  the  propriety,  when  they 
commence  giving  the  bread  of  life  to  those  who  are  perishing  at 
our  doors,  tliat  it  sliould  be  at  least  of  as  good  quality  as  tliat  which 
they  send  to  tlie  heathen  of  China  or  of  Burmah.  Consistency 
would  ask  a  reason  for  circulating  among  our  own  countrymen, 
bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh,  "  an  tinfaithfiil  version  of 
the  word  of  life."  But  then,  sa}'  the  managers,  if  we  are  limilcd  to 
a  foreign  field,  many  would  "  witlihold  their  contributions  ;"  and  so, 
consistency  be  quiet ;  lay  upon  us  no  "  interdict." 

From  the  second  annual  report  we  learn  that  tlie  treasurer  liad 
paid  for  stereotyping,  printing,  paper,  binding,  &c.,  for  Bibles, 
Testaments,  &:c.,  during  the  year,  tlie  sum  of  ten  thousand  six 
hundred  and  forty  dollars.  Of  King  James's  version,  (the  one  in 
common  use,)  the  society  had  printed  twenty-five  thousand  copies 
of  the  New  Testament  in  noiipnrcil ;  five  thousand  copies  of  tlie 
New  Testament  in  brevier ;  and  five  thousand  copies  of  the  whole 


556  Baptist  Bible  Societij.  [October, 

Bil)le  in  brevier.  During  tlic  following  year  they  issued,  of  ihr 
same  vcision,  seventeen  hundred  and  fifty  copies  of  (he  Kcw 
I'l'slainenl  in  pica  type,  octavo. 

Tlic  preparation  and  printing  of  these  volumes  were  comniitteJ 
to  a  special  committee  of  three.  After  stating  these  facts,  and 
reiterating  that,  in  their  opinion,  this  version  is  not  "in  all  respects 
faithfid,"  the  managers  add  : — 

'•  The  only  improvements  made  in  the  present  edition,  so  as  better 
to  adapt  it  to  general  use,  have  been,  correcting  typographical  errors, 
and  restoring  capitul  letters  and  italics,  (vv-here  other  publishers  have 
deviated  from  the  authorized  version,)  modernizing  the  spelling,  and 
giving  tlic  proper  grammatical  changes  to  the  indeliiiite  arlielc.  The 
board  are  happy  in  the  belief,  that  the  edition  of  the  Bible  which  they 
ha^•e  prepared  for  the  society,  so  far  as  regards  accuracy,  mechanical 
execution,  and  the  price  at  which  it  is  afibrded,  is  unsurpassed  by  any 
edition  of  the  Scriptures  before  olTcred  to  the  public ;  and  they  ear- 
nestly solicit  the  co-operation  of  auxiliary  societies,  in  its  distribution 
tliroughotit  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  laud." — Second  Report,  p.  13. 

We  were  at  a  loss  to  perceive  any  good  reason  for  tliese  sepa- 
rate jiubUcations  of  the  version  in  common  use  until  we  saw  the 
CLlitions  alluded  to.  lu  the  simplicity  of  our  hearts  we  made  a 
calculation  by  which  the  ten  thousand  dollars  expended  by  the  new 
society  for  printing,  stereotj'jjuig,  &c.,  would  liave  purchased  a 
much  greater  number  of  Bibles  and  Testaincnts  of  the  commonly 
received  version.  We  knew  that  the  editions  of  the  American 
Bible  Society  arc  exceedingly  accurate  in  their  typography,  and, 
tlicre  being  no  sectarian  object  in  view,  and  the  new  society  having 
determined  to  circulate  the  "  unfaithful  version,"  we  tiiought,  how 
much  more  economical  it  would  be  to  purciiase  from  them,  than  to 
print  and  stereotype  anew.  Thus  we  thought  previous  to  seeing 
tlic  new  society's  publications.     We  think  dilTercntly  now. 

In  the  remarks  whicli  follow  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  pica 
New  Testament,  that  being  the  latest  of  the  new  society's  publica- 
tions, and  having  had  the  benefit  of  three  revisions.  The  board  of 
managers  and  the  committee  of  three  can,  of  course,  liave  no  objec- 
tion to  our  testing  the  "accuracy"  of  which  they  talk  so  largely. 

The  mechanical  c.wcution  of  the  work  is  good :  the  paper  fair ; 
the  impression  clean  ;  and  the  binding  substantial.  It  professes  to 
be  a  reprint  of  Robert  Barker's  edition,  London,  IGll. 

On  the  back  of  the  title-page,  after  giving,  in  the  usual  form, 


1S41.]  Baptist  Bihh  Society.  557 

flic  names  and  order  of  the  several  books,  \ve  find  the  following 
rcmarliable  commentary : — 

"  MEANING  OF  CERTAIN   Wor.DS  USED  IN  THIS  VEllSION. 


CKEEK. 

THIS   VEP.SION. 

PROPER  MEANIN-G. 

'AyyO.o^      .      . 

.      .      ANGEL      .      . 

.       .       MESSENGER. 

Tia-Tw/ia    .      . 

.       .       BAPTISM 

.       .       IMMERSIO.M. 

BarriVu      .      . 

.       .       EAl'TIZE    .       . 

.       .       IMMERSE. 

E-;<T«-TOf  .      . 

.       .       BISHOP      .       . 

.       .       OVERSEER. 

'Ayd-,,        .      . 

.       .       CHARITY 

.       .       LOVE. 

E«.?.,.«z    .      . 

.       .       CHURCH 

.       .      CON-CRKGATIOX 

Tlaaxa 

.       .       EASTER     .       . 

.       .       PASSOVER." 

We  will  not  say  what,  in  our  opinion,  was  the  design  of  this  in- 
genious explanatory  table.  Its  obvious  tendency,  doubtless,  js  to 
imjircss  the  reader  watli  the  idea  that  it  is  copied  from  the  author- 
ized version,  as  its  insertion  is  not  named  by  the  board  of  managers 
among  their  "improvements."  There  is  nothing  like  it,  however, 
in  any  of  Barker's  Bibles,  nor  in  any  copy  of  the  sacred  writings 
we  have  ever  met  with  previous  to  the  publications  of  the  American 
and  Foreign  Bible  Societ}'.  We  are  doubtless  indebted  for  it  to 
'■■  the  committee  of  three."  Its  insertion  shows  a  lamentable  lack 
of  moral  corn-age.  If  the  managers  believed  it  cssenlial,  why  did 
they  not  insert  these  "  proper  meanings"  in  their  proper  places  1 
Will  they  say,  that  would  have  destroyed  their  claim  as  the  pub- 
lishers of  the  authorized  version?  So  it  would;  and  it  does  pre- 
cisely the  same  thing  where  it  now  stands.  It  makes  their  version 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  King  James's  translation,  ■^^'ith  A  secta- 
rian commentary  attached. 

Verily  we  should  have  had  some  curious  readings  had  tlic  com- 
mittee carried  out  their  "proper  meanings"  like  honest  men.  Take, 
for  instance,  the  first  word  on  the  list,  '\yye7.oc.  Now,  while  it  is 
true  that,  according  to  its  derivation,  it  docs  mean  a  messenger,  it 
is  equall}'  true  that  it  means  also  a  spiritual  intelligent  being,  and 
that  the  English  language  has  no  word  but  angel  by  which  that 
meaning  can  be  expressed.  The  ancient  Sadducees  believed, 
doubtless,  in  the  existence  of  messengers  ;  although  Luke  tells  us 
(Acts  xxiii,  S)  they  had  no  faith  in  that  of  angels.  Paul,  urging 
the  duty  of  hospitality,  informs  us  (Heb.  xiii,  2)  that  some  have 
entertained  angels  unawares.      It  would  be  difficult  to  tell  how 


55S  Baptist  Bible  Society.  [October, 

anj'  one  covdd  entertain  a  7nesseng-er  witliout  knowing  it.  Peter, 
in  his  first  epistle,  (chap,  i,  12,)  s])eaking  of  the  mysteries  of  the 
world's  rederciption,  saj-s,  wliicli  tilings  the  angels  [messengers  1] 
desire  to  look  into.  Thus  again,  (lleb.  ii,  16,)  Jesus  Cln-ist  took 
not  on  him  the  nature  of  7?iessc/ige7's  !  Stephen's  face  (Acts  vi,  15) 
appeared  to  those  who  looked  steadfastly  upon  him  as  it  had  been 
the  face  of — a  messenger ! 

Tlie  same  course  of  remark  might  be  followed  ^vith  the  two 
succeeding  words,  pa-Ttc/ia  and  pa-n^u,  as  the  reader  may  see  by 
turning  to  tlie  passages  in  which  occur  the  words  ])aptism  and 
baptize.  It  was  doubtless  for  the  sake  of  these  two  words  that 
the  table  before  us  was  concocted.  Why  the  others  were  added, 
and  ■why  a  immber  that  might  have  been  introduced  with  equal 
propriety  were  omitted,  none  but  "  the  special  committee  of  three" 
can  tell.  Upon  them,  and  their  coadjutors,  it  seems  as  if  all  argu- 
ment would  be  wasted.  But  we  appeal  to  all  Christians,  irre- 
spective of  sect  or  denomination  ;  to  all  who  are  capable  of  reading 
the  original,  and  who  are  not  blinded  b}'  bigotrj',  whether  the  Eng- 
lish words  immerse  and  imrncrsion  convey  the  whole  of  the  idea 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  his  use  of  the  words  in  question.  If  a  man 
should  fall  into  the  river,  would  it  not  be  strictly  con-ect  to  say  in 
Englisii,  he  was  immersed  ?*  Is  that  all  the  Holy  Spirit  meant  by 
paTTTt^ul  Wlien  the  Egyptians  were  drowned  in  the  Red  Sea,  their 
death  was  caused  by  immersion:  this  is  intelligible  and  correct 
English.t  Does  paTrncfta  mean  nothing  more  than  llwt?  These 
are  the  questions  on  which  the  M'liole  controversy  liinges.     They 

*  Immi;rsed,  p.  p.    Put  inio  a  fluid. — Webster. 

t  I.MMERS10N,  71.    Tlic  act  of  putting  into  a  fluid  below  the  surface. — Ibid. 

After  writing:  the  above,  we  accidentally  met  with  the  following  sentence  in 
the  Journal  of  Commerce  of  this  morning,  (Feb.  20,  1811.)  It  shows  conclu- 
sively that  the  idea  conveyed  to  an  English  car  by  the  words  in  question  is 
vcr>'  dilTcrfnt  from  that  designed  by  the  Holy  S]iirit  in  his  use  of  the  words 
pa-Ti^u,  liairricfia.  The  article  appears  to  be  an  extract  from  a  St.  Augustine 
paper  of  February  5.  It  is  an  account  of  an  incident  that  happened  during  the 
Florida  war  : — "  One  yawl  boat,  containing  three  warriors,  four  squaws,  and 
two  children,  was  chased  by  Lieutenant  Taylor,  two  privates,  and  the  sergeant. 
When  they  had  got  within  rifle  shot  of  the  Indians,  their  boat  got  aground. 
They  all  jumped  out  to  pull  tlie  boat  into  deep  Mater,  and  in  doing  so,  got  so 
suddenly  beyond  their  depth,  that  they  were  completely  immersed — arms  and 
all !    The  sergeant  was  the  only  one  who  escaped  immersion." 


1841.]  Baptist  Bible  Society.  559 

admit  of  but  one  answer ;  and  if  these  vtords  mean  something 
more  than  immerse  and  immersion ;  if,  when  used  in  the  Scrip- 
tures to  express  the  rile  initiatoiy  into  tlie  Christian  churcli,  they 
mean  the  application  of  water  in  any  way  as  a  sacrament,  tlien 
we  say,  tlicre  are  no  w  ords  in  the  Enghsh  language  by  which  the 
whole  idea  of  the  Holy  Spirit  can  be  conveyed  but  those  which  are 
used  in  the  commonly  received  version  of  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

As  to  the  other  "proper  meanings,"  but  little  need  be  said. 
They  seem  as  if  lugged  in ;  mere  makeweights  to  keep  the  others 
in  countenance.  "  Bishop"  should  be  "  overseer."  Well ;  they 
are  convertible  terms ;  a  bishop  is  an  overseer  certainly ;  but  all 
overseers  are  not  bishops,  as  our  brethren  may  learn  by  rcfernng 
to  2  Chron.  ii,  18. 

'AjaiTii,  instead  of  being  rendered  charily,  should  liave  been  love  ; 
and  eKO.j}cta  should  have  been  congregation  instead  of  church ;  and 
Ttaaxa  means  passover,  and  not  Easter,  as  it  is  rendered  in  one 
passage,  Acts  xii,  4.  Truly  this  is  small  business.  We  would 
recommend  to  the  special  committee,  in  the  event  of  thch-  being 
permitted  to  superintend  another  edition,  the  propriety  of  adding  to 
tlicir  dictionary.  It  has  a  very  bald  appearance  at  present,  and 
there  is  no  scarcity  of  material.     Thus,  for  instance  : — 


CREEK. 

THIS   VERSION. 

PEOPEE  HF..INIXC. 

llpo^n-r>K 

.       PROrHKT        .        . 

.       A  EORETELLER. 

'EiTiaTo'/.ii 

.       rPISTLE           .       . 

.       LETTER. 

y.vvayufr, 

.       SVX.^GOGUE 

.        CONGREGATIOX. 

'k-aoaro'Ao^ 

.       APOSTLE          .       . 

.       OXE  SENT  FOnTU. 

JlptaOvrepcov    . 

.       I'RESBYTERY       . 

.       A  BODY  OF  ELDER 

2aP3arov  .      . 

.       SABBATH         .       . 

.       DAY  OF  REST. 

These,  and  a  liost  of  others  that  might  be  added,  are,  in  "  this 
version,"  on]y— Greek  transferred;  and  "who  can  estimate  the 
evils  that  have  resulted  from  the  popish  artifice  of  transfer  V  The 
"  intention"  of  the  new  society  was  to  "give  the  whole  world  a 
literal  translation  of  the  word  of  God,"  and  by  no  means  to  enter 
into  that  "  unholy  league"  which  have  "combined"  to  sujipress  that 
word  by  "covering  it  up  in  a  foreign  and  unmeaning  jargon." 
This,  in  theh  own  language,  was  their  intention.  An  edition  of 
the  common  version,  wilh  the  addition  of  the  above  table,  is  all  the 
evidence  we  liave  of  the  sincerity  of  that  intention. 


560  Baptist  Bihlc  Societij.  [OlIoIum-, 

We  are  pleased,  however,  with  tlic  mulliphcation  of  editions  ,,f 
King  James's  translation :  first,  because,  we  believe  it  unequallrj 
for  its  fidelity  to  the  original ;  and  second])-,  because  every  ne^v 
edition  lessens  the  probability  that  any  sect  will  ever  be  able  to 
foist  upon  the  public  another  version. 

In  examining  the  pica  New  Testament  of  tlie  new  socictj',  we 
bear  in  mind  its  claims  to  superior  accuracy,  and  the  improvemcnis 
that  liave  been  made  by  the  "  special  committee."  These  are,  they 
tcl!  us,  the  correction  of  typogTaphical  errors ;  the  restoration  of 
capital  letters  and  italics;  modernizing  the  spelling;  and  giving 
the  proper  grammatical  changes  to  the  indefinite  article. 

We  have  read  the  work  witli  some  care ;  and  altliough  the  task 
be  an  unpleasant  one,  we  shall  present  the  evidence  b)'-  which  we 
we  were  driven  to  the  conclusion,  that  we  have  never  seen  a  copy 
of  the  English  New  Testament  so  full  of  errors,  discrepancies, 
and  typographical  inaccm-acies. 

As  the  reader  will  perceive,  v:c  do  this  without  an)"-  attempt  ai 
classification  or  order.     Let  him  read  and  judge  for  hini'^clf. 

E]ih.  iv,  23.   The  new  man  is  in  the  new  version  that  new  luan. 

2  Pet.  ii,  15.  Balaam  is  spelt  Baalam. 

1  Cor.  xiii,  2.  Have  no  charity  instead  of  ?iof  charily,  as  it  is  in  llu- 
succeedingversc,  where  the  Greek  is  precisely  the  same. 

1  Cor.  xii,  2S.  The  new  version  reads  helps  in  goveriuncnls ;  in- 
stead of  helps,  governments,  as  in  the  original,  makiivj 
an  entirely  different  sense. 

Horn,  xiv,  10.  In  the  Greek,  and  in  all  accurate  versions,  our  stand- 
ing before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ  is  made  a  rea- 
son why  wc  shoud  not  judge  our  brother  ;  'by  tlie  omis- 
sion of  for  in  the  new  version  this  reason  is  destroyed, 
and  the  mind  of  the  Spirit  obscured. 

1  Cor.  iv,  9.  The  apostles   arc   said  to  bo   approved  instead  of 

appointed  to  death. 

2  Cor.  ix,  4.  The  adverb  hajilt/  is  printed  huppihj.    Do  they  mean 

the  same  thing  ? 
2  Cor.  xi,  2G.  'O6oi77oplac^  is  rendered  journeying:  in  the  singular. 

instead  oi  journey ings  in  the  plaral. 
Col.  i,  21,  &  iii,  7.  In  the  former  the  adverb  -^otc  is  renderd  sonu- 

iimes,  in  the  latter  some  time :  two  distinct  words,  and 


1841.]  Baptist  Bible  Society.  561 

conveying  diiTcrcnt  ideas,  as  the  reader  will  see  by- 
turning  to  the  passages. 

Epii.  ii,  IS.  By  the  addition  of  the  hltlc  article  an  in  this  verse,  a 
very  erroneous  idea  is  given  of  the  apostle's  meaning. 
He  says  we  have  access  to  the  Father ;  the  improved 
edition  tells  us  we  have  an  access. 

PJiil.  iv,  6.  The  apostle  says,  let  your  requests  (GJn^aro)  be  made 
known  unto  God.  The  new  version  has  it  your  re- 
quest, as  if  God  would  hear  but  one. 

2  Tim.  ii,  19.  Having  the  seal  should  be  having  tliis  seal:  ravrtiv 
being  entirely  omitted,  or  being  considered  by  the  com- 
mittee of  preparation  as  having  no  meaning. 

Hcb.  xi,  23.  Tkcij  not  afraid,  were  omitted,  unintentionally 
doubtless. 

Hcb.  xii,  1.  Let  us  run  with  patience  unto  the  race,  &c.  How 
the  preposition  found  its  way  into  this  verse  wc  can- 
not tell.  The  apostle  certainly  never  wrote  such 
nonsense. 

1  Pet.  V,  10.  The  God  of  all  grace  v.-lio  hath  called  us  into  his 
eternal  glory,  6cc.  Not  exactly  ;  we  have  been  called 
tinto  that  glory. 

Rev.  i,  11.  The  preposition  (f/f)  wito  is  omitted  before  the  word 
Philadelphia. 

Mark  x,  18.  The  societj^'s  Testament  says,  there  is  no  '/nan  good 
but  one,  that  is  God.     Is  God  a  man,  then  ? 

Luke  i,  3.  nactv  in  the  new  version  is  totally  omitted,  as  if  it  meant 
nothing. 

Luke  xxiii,  32.  In  this  verse  a  typographical  error  which  occurred 
in  the  early  editions,  but  which  has  been  corrected  in 
those  subsequently  printed,  is  continued  by  the  special 
committee.  They  say :  there  were  also  two  other 
malefactors  led  with  him,  to  be  put  to  death.  Did  the 
evangelist  mean  to  call  Jesus  a  malefactor?  If  we 
read  others  instead  of  other  as  the  Greek  (iripot  <5i'o) 
evidently  intends  ;  or  if  the  committee  liad  simply  in- 
serted a  comma  after  otlier,  tliis  absurdity,  not  to  say 
blasphemy,  would  have  been  avoided. 

.lohn  xii,  22.  For  told  read  tell. 

John  XV,  20.  Kvpiov  ai-ov  his  lord,  i.-j  called  TTie  Lord,  giving  the 


562  Baptist  Bible  Society.  [Octol.or, 

■  passage  a  very  different  sense  from  that  intended  by 
■  •.  the  Sa\'iour. 
Luke  xis,  9.  Zacclieus  is  said  to  be  tlie  son  of  Abraham.     Nut 

true  ;  tlie  Saviom-  called  him  a  son  of  Abraham. 
John  xix,  18.   Other  should  have  been  others. 
John  xix,  24.  For  let  not  its  read  let  us  not. 
1  Cor.  X,  28.  The  omission  of  (yap)  for,  in  the  latter  clause  of  this 
verse,  throws  the  apostle's  meaning  into  "dim  eclipse." 
Acts  V,  34.  Gamaliel  is  called  a  doctor  of  law,  instead  of  a  doctor 
of  tiie  law. 

Thus  much  for  the  accuracy  of  the  new  society's  New  Testa- 
ment. They  will  tell  us,  perhaps,  that  some  of  these  errors  are  to 
be  found  in  the  edition  from  which  theirs  is  printed.  What  tlicn  ? 
That  will  be  a  sufficient  excuse  for  their  printer.  If  he  followed 
copy,  that  is  all  tliey  had  a  right  to  require  of  him.  But  for 
what  purpose,  we  pray,  was  the  "  special  committee  of  three"  ap- 
pointed ?  We  regret  that  the  board  of  managers  has  withheld  the 
names  of  those  gentlemen.  Either  they  were  incompetent  to  the 
tasl;  assigned  them,  or  they  have  imposed  upon  the  body  by  whom 
they  were  appointed,  for  the  managers  assure  the  world  that  in  their 
edition  improvements  have  been  made,  and  typograpldcal  errors 
liave  been  corrected. 

Another  improvement  in  their  pubheations,  they  tell  us,  is  the 
restoration  of  capital  letters  and  italics.     Let  us  see, — 

Baptlsm  is  a  word,  as  we  have  seen,  peculiarly  obnoxious  to 
our  seceding  brethren.  It  is  printed  uniformly  by  the  British  and 
Foreign,  and  by  the  American  Bible  Society,  with  a  small  h.  In 
the  new  edition  it  is  conmrenced  with  a  capital,  but  not  always. 
Tluis,  it  is  Baptism  in  the  following  places  : — Blatt.  iii,  7 ;  Ads 
XIX,  3;  Col.  ii,  12;  Heb.  vi,  2;  1  Pet.  iii,  21.  In  the  following 
places,  as  if  the  conmiittee  had  forgotten  their  pledge  to  restore 
capitals,  it  is  printed  baptism : — I\Iatt.  xxi,  25  ;  JIark  i,  4 ;  Luke 
iii,  3  ;  Luke  vii,  29  ;  Acts  xix,  4. 

Synagogue,  because,  as  we  suppose,  it  is  a  mere  transfer  and 
not  a  translation  of  the  Greek,  is  commenced  with  a  capital  in  Acts 
ix,  2  ;  ix,  20  ;  xiii,  5  ;  and  Rev.  ii,  9.  In  Acts  xxii,  19,  and  Rev. 
iii,  9,  on  tlie  other  hand,  the  usual  mode  is  adopted,  and  it  begins 
with  a  small  s. 

Charity  in  1  Cor.  viii,  1 ,  is  spelt  charity  in  the  same  epistle,  xiii,  1 . 


1841.]  Baptist  Bible  Society.  5G3 

Ciurncii.  A  strange  "  restoralion"  has  been  made  of  the  capital 
C  in  this  word.  In  Rev.  ii,  it  occurs  nine  times  ;  in  six  of  thcnx 
it  is  spelt  with  a  capital ;  and  in  three  with  a  small  letter.  Can 
there  by  possibility  be  any  reason  for  writing — Church  in  Smyrna  ; 
CIuucli  in  Pergamos ;  wliilc  in  the  same  clrapter  we  have  cluurch 
of  Ephcsus  and  church  in  Thyatira  ? 

Disciple,  also,  seems  to  have  suffered  bjMhe  "  restoralion"  pro- 
cess. Tlie  following  discrepancies  occur  in  St.  Matthew's  gospel. 
In  chapter  xvii,  we  find  it  with  a  capital  in  verses  13,  19,  M'hile  in 
verses  G,  10,  16,  of  the  same  chapter,  it  is  begun  with  a  small  d. 
It  is  Disciple  also  in  xviii,  1  ;  xsi,  1,  6,  20;  Jisciple  in  xvi,  21 ; 
xvii,  6,  10,  16. 

Son  of  God.  In  all  the  other  modern  editions  which  we  have 
examined,  and  they  are  not  a  few,  this  appellation  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  is  uniformly  commenced  with  a  capital  letter.  It  is  so  in 
the  following  passages  of  the  Testament  before  us  : — Malt,  iv,  6  ; 
xx\'i,  63,  64  ;  xx^-ii,  40,  54.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  printed  son 
of  God  hi  the  following  places: — Matt,  iv,  3;  xiv,  33;  xvi,  16; 
Luke  i,  35.  Is  that  what  the  committee  mean  by  restoring  capitals? 
The  same  remark  applies  to  the  phrase 

Son  of  man,  which,  ahhough  generally  printed  as  in  other  edi- 
tions, witli  a  capital,  is  given  to  us  with  a  small  letter  in  the  fol- 
lowing passages  : — Matt,  xiii,  37;  He  that  soweth  the  good  seed  is 
the  son  of  man.  Malt,  xvi,  27;  The  son  of  man  shall  come  in  tlie 
glory  of  his  Father,  &c.  Mark  xiv,  62 ;  Ye  shall  sec  tlie  son  of 
man  sitting  on  the  right  hand  of  power.  It  is  a  matter  of  no  veiy 
great  consequence,  ccrtainlj' ;  but  why,  in  these  instances,  the 
general  rule  should  have  been  departed  from,  contrary  to  l!ie  uni- 
formity of  all  other  editions  tliat  we  have  ever  seen,  we  cainiot 
imagine. 

Publican.  To  this  word,  usually  printed  with  a  small  letter,  in 
the  new  edition  the  capital  has  been  restored,  and  in  oar  opinion 
with  propriety.  Unfortunately,  iiowever,  in  Matt,  ix,  10,  the  luii- 
formity  is  violated,  and  we  have — many  publicans  and  sinners. 

Spirit.  In  the  printing  of  this  word  every  thing  like  uniformity 
seems  to  have  been  set  utterly  at  defiance.  In  the  fifth  chapter  of 
Galalians,  where,  in  all  other  editions  the  capital  letter  is  used,  we 
have  the  following  unaccountable  discrepancies  : — Verse  5,  for  we 
through  the  spirit  wait,  &c. :  verse  16,  walk  in  the  spirit :  verse 


564  Baptist  Bible  Society.  [October, 

17,  the  flesh  lustcth  against  ihe  Spirit ;  and  the  spirit  against  llie 
flesli :  verse  18,  if  ye  be  led  of  the  spirit :  verse  22,  the  fruit  of  the 
spirit :  verse  25,  if  we  hve  in  the  Spirit  let  us  walk  also  in  the 
Spirit. 

Cock.  To  this  word,  in  John  xiii,  3S,  the  capital  has  been  re- 
stored ;  but  in  !Matt.  xxvi,  31,  JMark  xiv,  30,  passages  evidently 
parallel,  and  where  the  same  bird  is  undoubtedly  intended,  the 
restoration  was  forgotten. 

Testament.  In  2  Cor.  iii,  6,  ;Ye  have  Testament ;  in  verse  14, 
Testament. 

CiucuMcisED.  Gal.  vi,  12,  they  constrain  you  to  be  Circuni- 
cised.  Verse  13,  for  neither  they  themselves  who  arc  circumcised, 
&c.,  but  desire  to  have  you  circumcised,  &c. 

Saviouii.  It  would  seem  as  if  there  could  possibly  be  no  doubt 
of  the  propriety  of  commencing  this  word  with  a  capital.  We  never 
saw  it  otherwise  until  we  read  in  the  edition  before  us — God  my 
saviour.  Jjuke  i,  47. 

Book.  In  Luke  iv,  17,  we  have  the  following  unaccountable 
blunder ;  lliere  was  delivered  unto  him  the  book  of  the  prophet 
Esaias,  and  wlien  he  had  opoied  the  Cook,  etc.  ^Yas  not  the 
Book  whicli  he  opened,  the  same  hook  that  was  delivered  unto 
him? 

The  restoration  of  italics  is  another  reason  given  for  the  publi- 
cations of  the  new  society.  Words  thus  printed  are  supposed  to 
be  wanting  in  tlie  original,  and  added  by  the  translators.  How 
many  such  restorations  may  liave  been  made  in  the  Old  Testament 
wo  have  not  examined.  There  are  a  few  certamly,  and  some  of 
them  ver}'  curious,  in  the  societ3''s  pica  octavo. 

Tiic  Saviour's  dying  exclamation,  Eh,  Eli,  lama  sabacthani  is 
printed  in  italics  in  Matthew's  gospel,  xxvii,  4G.  Why?  Is  it  not 
in  the  original  ?  Certainly  it  is.  But  in  one  of  Barker's  editions, 
printed  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  when  the  typogi-aphic 
art  was  in  its  infancy,  this  exclamation  is  given  in  italic  letters,  and 
lliereforc,  perhaps,  the  committee  of  tlurcc  directed  their  printer  to 
restore  them  in  their  edition.  But  strange  to  sa}',  in  the  parallel 
passage  in  Mark  xv,  34,  the  same  expression  is  given  in  the  com- 
mon chai'aclers.  Surely  if  the  restoration  was  needed  in  the  one 
place  it  was  equally  necessary  in  the  other. 

In  Galations  i,  8,  Any  other  gospel  is  printed  in  italic  charac- 


ISJl.]  Baptist  Bible  Socicttj.  565 

ter,  as  tliough  it  wcic  not  in  the  original.  In  tlie  following  vcric, 
where  the  original  is  the  same,  the  Roman  character  is  used. 

.-\gain  :  The  new  society  give  us  the  superscription  written  over 
the  Saviour  on  the  cross,  in  all  four  of  the  evangelists,  in  italic 
letters.  For  this  we  cannot  find  any  reason  whatever.  Even  the 
old  edition  of  Barker  (1GI2)  does  not  fall  into  this  absurdity.  The 
new  society  has  indeed  tlie  merit  of  being  uniform  in  tliis  matter, 
praise  which,  as  we  have  seen,  can  be  very  seldom  awarded  them. 
We  would  suggest  the  propriety  of  adding  to  the  society's  com- 
mentary, in  the  next  edition,  a  note  explanatory  of  what  is  to  be 
understood  by  words  printed  in  italics  in  "■  this  version." 

Having  thus  presented  the  results  of  our  investigations,  we  leave 
our  readers  to  make  up  their  opinions,  and  to  pass  their  verchct 
upon  the  American  and  Foreign  Bible  Society. 

Wc  liave  endeavored  to  confine  ourselves  closely  to  the  object 
before  us,  and  are,  therefore,  not  aw'are  that  any  apology  is  needed 
for  the  length  of  this  article.  We  know  that  such  details  as  are 
here  spread  before  him  ai-e  dull  and  u)u'ntercsting  to  the  general 
reader  ;  and  we  can  assure  iiim  that  the  task  has  been  by  no  means 
pleasant  to  the  reviewer.  But  although  our  time  might  have  been 
more  agreeably  occupied,  and  these  pages  more  profitably  filled 
with  the  discussion  of  some  other  subject,  the  cause  of  tnuh 
dem.anded  that  such  serious  charges  as  have  been  brought 
against  the  three  prominent  Bible  institutions  of  our  globe,  should 
be  rigidly  investigated.  Christian  courtesy,  moreover,  seemed  to 
require  that  the  magnificent  pretensions  of  the  new  society  should 
be  weighed  in  the  balances  ;  and  that  those  pretensions  should  be 
carefully  compared  with  the  actual  results.  Without  such  esami- 
nation,  the  intelligent  and  candid  reader  could  not  certainly  be 
prepared  to  decide,  whether  he  ought  in  justice  to  allow  the  claims 
of  our  Baptist  brethren,  or  to  inscribe  upon  the  forehead  of  their 
precocious  bantling — Tekel.  F. 

Vol.  I.— 36 


Butler's  Analogi/  of  Religion.  [October 


Art.  IV. —  The  Analo!:;y  of  Religion,  natural  and  revealed,  to 
the  Constitution  uml 'Course  of  Nature.  B}' Joseph  Butleu, 
LL.D.,  late  Lord  Bi^hop  of  Durliam.  Kew-York  and  Boston, 
1833. 

■  Sir  James  JIackintosh,  in  liis  View  of  the  ProgTess  of  Ethical 
Philosoph}',  says,  "  This  great  work  on  the  Analogy  of  Religion 
to  the  Course  of  Nature,  though  only  a  commentary  on  the  singu- 
larly original  and  pregnant  passage  of  Origcn,  whicli  is  so  honcstlv 
prefixed  to  it  as  a  motto,  is,  notwithstanding,  the  most  original  and 
profound  work  extant  in  any  language  on  the  philosophy  of  religion." 
Our  principal  object  in  this  paper  is,  to  introduce  tiie  book  more 
generally  to  the  notice  of  ministers  of  the  gospel,  and  recommend  it 
to  their  frequent  and  patient  examination.  We  ourselves  have  read 
it  several  times,  and  always  with  enlargement  of  views,  increase 
of  faitli,  and  improvement  of  heart.  Our  introduction  to  it  was 
singular  and  impressive.  It  was  at  a  time  when  we  were  passing 
from  impetuous  youth  into  manhood,  with  a  bosom  beating  higli 
for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  and  the  improvement  of  the  mind. 
A  friend,  looking  into  his  library,  said,  "  Here  is  a  book  which  I 
purchased  some  time  ago,  having  heard  it  recommended  as  one  of 
the  greatest  of  this  or  any  other  age :  I  have  commenced  reading 
it  twice,  and  have  twice  desisted.  It  made  my  licad  ache  :  I  can- 
not comprehend  it.  I  will  give  it  to  you,  if  you  will  study  it." 
We  received  it,  little  knowing  what  a  treasure  we  had  acquired. 
If  a  very  sensible  clergyman  could  say  to  a  young  theological  stu- 
dent who  was  reading  with  him,  "  I  recommend  you  to  study  the 
Bible  and  Shakspeare  thoroughly,"  we  will  take  the  liberty  of 
adding  to  this  recommendation,  the  patient  and  thorough  study  of 
Butler's  Analogy.  The  study  of  the  Bible  will  teach  us  our  duty 
toward  God,  each  other,  and  ourselves,  and  assure  us  of  immor- 
tality and  eternal  life  :  llie  study  of  Shakspeare  will  disclose  to 
us  all  movements  of  all  hearts,  and  furnish  us  with  the  natural 
and  expressive  language  of  passion  and  feeling :  tlie  study  of  the 
Analogy  will  convince  us,  that  what  religion  teaches  is  in  strict 
accordance  witli  what  we  know  by  experience  to  be  wise  and  good 
in  tlic  established  constitution  and  course  of  nature. 

—it  was  a  piece  of  great  good  fortune  to  the  world  that  Joseph 
Butler  was  bom  at  the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  (1G92,) 


1841.]  Bulla's  Analogy  of  Religion.  567 

during  ihc  development  of  those  teiril)lc  elements  which  were 
shaking  all  Europe,  which  had  already,  in  England,  Ijrought  the 
first  Charles  to  the  bloclc,  produced  and  destroyed  the  coinmon- 
wealth,  banished  the  Puritans,  and  given  birth  to  Qualccrism,  the 
opposite  extreme  of  the  pomp  and  ceremon)-  of  the  Church  of 
England ;  and  which,  in  France,  had  brought  about  the  horrible 
massacre  of  the  Huguenots  on  St.  Barlholomcw's  day,  and  was 
shortly  to  explode  in  the  still  more  horrible  French  revolution. 
There  are  occasional  periods  in  the  progress  of  civilization  marked 
with  an  iiTcsistiblc  power  which  loosens  the  foundations  of  society, 
unsettles  the  weak,  destroys  the  unsound,  and  even  puts  to  the 
severest  test  the  strong  and  permanent,  and  thus  develops  the 
extremes  of  human  nature.  Hence  this  period  is  remarkable  for 
the  most  splendid  array  of  the  brightest  names  in  every  depart- 
ment of  literature,  science,  religion,  and  politics  :  and  for  every 
thing  that  is  revolting  and  terrible  in  the  history  of  humanity. 
These  results  arc  perfectly  natural,  and  can  be  easily  explained 
when  past,  and  might  be  as  easilj'  anticipated  by  an  enlarged 
and  well-instructed  mind  placed  in  the  midst  of  tlie  forming 
elements. 

During  this  eventful  period,  the  entire  mass  of  European  mind 
was  quickened  beyond  any  example  in  the  historj!-  of  tlie  world. 
It  was  pregnant  with  inexpressible  feelings  and  brihiant  thoughts. 
Men  speculated  on  ah  subjects  with  great  freedom  and  power,  and 
acted  with  precipitancy  and  impetuosity.  There  was  no  mediocrity 
in  cilhcr  evil  or  good.  Every  thing  was  subjected  to  the  test  of  a 
violent  and  rigid  examination.  In  this  general  state  of  mental  ex- 
citement and  overstrained  action,  the  public  mind  took  a  distin- 
guished turn  in  favor  of  literature,  science,  and  politics  ;  and  find- 
ing new  and  enchanting  fields  opening  indefinitely  in  these  several 
directions,  the  master  spirits  of  the  times  walked  forth  into  them 
with  a  freedom  and  success  mitil  then  forbidden  bj'  the  popular 
sentiments  of  religion  and  the  discijilinary  forms  of  the  Church, 
which  had  for  centuries  restrained  and  guided  public  sentiment. 
Amid  their  ecstasies  in  this  new  world  of  liberty,  literature,  and 
science,  is  it  at  all  surprising  that  the  public  feeling  and  judgment 
should  first  call  in  question  and  then  reject  Christianitv,  to  which 
had  been  referred  tlie  degradation  and  slavery  of  Eurojic  for  many 
centuries  ?    The  peculiar  stale  of  affairs  in  England  facilitated  this 


568  Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion.  [October, 

result.  The  violence  and  animosities  of  the  Catholics  and  Pro- 
Icslants,  and  the  scvcrit)-  and  moroscness  of  the  Puritans  and  Inde- 
pendents, had  disgraced  religion ;  society  was  driven  to  the  extreme 
of  austerity  during  thg  commonwealth ;  and  upon  the  restoration 
of  the  licentious  and  witty  Charles  the  Second,  corruption  and 
irreligion  overdowcd  the  land.  The  sense  of  religion  was  nearly 
extinguished  in  the  nation,  which  is  graphically  expressed  by  Dr. 
Butler  in  the  following  paragraph,  in  which  he  explains  the  origin 
of  his  great  work  : — 

"  It  is  come,  1  know  not  how,  to  be  taken  for  granted,  by  many 
persons,  lliat  Cluisliiinity  is  not  so  much  as  a  subject  of  inquiry;  but 
that  it  is  now,  nt  b.ngth,  discovered  to  be  fictitious.  And  accordingly 
they  treat  it,  as  if,  in  the  present  age,  this  were  an  agreed  point  among 
all  people  of  discernment ;  and  nothing  remained,  but  to  set  it  up  as  a 
principal  subject  of  mirth  and  ridicule,  as  it  were  by  way  of  reprisals, 
for  its  having  so  long  interrupted  the  pleasures  of  the  world." — P.  103. 

The  Analogy  was  written  to  bring  back  the  nation  to  a  proper 
sense  of  God,  and  to  the  observance  of  liis  worship;  and  it  was 
eminently  successful  by  producing  conviction  in  the  minds  of  men 
of  genius  and  learning.  It  is  not  a  book  for  the  muhiiude  :  it  is 
acceptable  to  those  onljr  who  think  profoundly  and  reflect  patiently ; 
and  he  who  will  llioroughly  possess  himself  of  it  so  as  to  compre- 
hend its  bearings,  and  experience  its  power,  will  feel  himself  a 
man. 

The  Analogy  is  a  text-book  in  all  the  respectable  colleges  of 
our  coiuitry,  making  a  most  valuable  part  of  the  course  on  the 
evidences  of  Christianity,  during  the  senior  year.  It  should  be 
studied  before  the  proper  evidences.  Unfortunately,  it  is  usually 
very  unpopular  widi  most  students,  because  it  is  too  profound  for 
them,  and  requires  too  hard  thinking.  We  are  satisfied,  however, 
that  much  of  the  dilliculty  is  owing  to  the  want  of  ability,  or  tact, 
or  both,  in  the  instructor.  Let  about  ten  pages  of  it  be  carefully 
read  and  prepared  by  the  class  :  at  their  recitation  let  the  professor, 
in  easy  and  familiar  conversation,  fully  explain  and  further  illus- 
trate the  proposition  and  the  reasoning  :  at  the  following  recitation 
let  the  professor  lecture  half  an  hour  on  the  preceding  one,  giving 
the  class  a  clear  and  full  analysis  of  the  argument,  with  illustrations 
of  his  own.  In  this  way  let  the  students  be  conducted  tlurough  the 
Analogy,  and  then  let  each  one  be  required  to  produce  a  full  and 
clear  analysis  written  in  his  own  langitage  ;  and  the  work  will  not 


1841.]  Butlf:r''s  Analogy  of  Rrligion.  569 

only  not  be  irksome,  bul  one  of  tlie  most  deliqhtful  text-books  in 
the  course.  The  cfTcct  will  be  the  complete  establishment  of  the 
authority  of  revelation  in  the  mind  and  conscience  of  the  student, 
so  that  it  will  be  impossible  for  the  wiles  or -the  power  of  infidelity 
to  entangle  or  to  shake  hira  in  all  after-life.  There  are  many  very 
interesting  incidents  connected  with  the  study  of  this  book  in  col- 
lege, and  by  individuals.  It  is  most  gTnlifying  to  see  the  secret 
foundations  of  infidelity  gradually  sapped,  loosened,  and  removed, 
as  the  student  advances  through  the  close  and  powerful  analogies 
exhibited  in  the  work ;  and  feels  the  conviction  slowly  gaining 
upon  him,  that  revelation  is  not  unreasonable  in  the  estimation  of 
any  man  who  regards  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature  as  wise 
and  good ;  for  he  sees  that  natural  and  revealed  religion  make  a 
part  of  that  system  of  things  which,  taken  together,  is  the  com- 
plete constitution  and  course  of  nature.  Hence,  the  student  ob- 
tains enlarged  and  general  views,  and  is  taught  to  look  upon  the 
divine  government  of  the  imiverse  as  one  great  scheme  at  present 
imperfectly  comprclicnded  by  us  ;  yet  sufficiently  comprehended 
to  show  tlial  our  holy  religion  is  an  essential  part  of  lliis  scheme ; 
and  that,  instead  of  being  unreasonable,  it  is  strictly  in  accordance 
with  truth  and  nature,  as  disclosed  by  experience. 

The  object  of  Dr.  Butler  was  not  to  demonstrate  tlic  truth  of 
revelation  ;  but  simply  to  show,  that  it  could  not  be  proved  to  be 
false.  Tiie  argument  rests  on  this  single  foundation,  viz.,  that  the 
constitution  and  course  of  nature  disclose  principles  and  results 
ver}'  similar  to  the  principles  and  results  announced  hy  religion. 
If,  therefore,  we  reject  the  lailer,  consistency  will  require  us  also 
to  reject  the  former.  But  this  is  impossible,  as  it  is  contrary  to 
om-  consciousness  and  daily  experience.  The  analogies  are  drawn 
partly  from  the  government  of  the  natural  world,  but  mainly  from 
that  of  the  moral,  as  exhibited  in  individuals  and  in  society ;  and 
so  successfully  has  the  author  executed  his  work,  that  no  friend  of 
religion  has  attempted  to  advance  the  incjuiiy  further ;  no  enemy 
has  ventured  to  attack  it.  It  remains  unanswered  and  unanswer- 
able. 

We  now  enter  upon  an  analysis  of  some  of  the  principal  jxarls 
of  tlie  work,  wliich,  though  the  result  of  more  than  twenty  years' 
thouglit  and  labor,  is  conqjrised  in  about  one  hundred  and  eighty 
ordinary  duodecimo  pages.      It  is   said  by  his  biographers,  that 


570  Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion.  tOctobcr, 

Butler  rewrote  the  work  several  times,  reducing,  condensing,  and 
weighing  cvcrj-  sentence  ;ind  word,  initil  be  made  them  express 
fully  and  exactly  his  idea,  and  no  more.  And  aUhough  most 
readers  will  consider  llie  language  dry  and  obscure,  and  wish  that 
the  argument  bad  been  dressed  in  the  flowery  language  of  modern 
literature ;  yet,  if  any  of  them  will  break  up  one  of  Butler's  para- 
graphs, and  endeavor  to  rewrite  it,  he  will  soon  find  that  be  has 
removed  the  compressing  force  from  a  wonderful  and  expansive 
power  of  thought  w^hich  be  will  discover  it  impossible  for  bim  to 
reduce  within  narrower  limits  ;  or  clothe,  without  loss  of  majesty 
and  strength,  in  the  soft  and  attractive  attire  of  a  popular  style. 
The  truth  is,  the  argument  is  not  popular  ;  it  lies  out  of  the  com- 
mon path  of  mankind ;  and  you  might  as  well  expect  that  stern 
winter  could  put  on  the  ga}'  tints  of  spring,  as  that  the  sublime 
truths  and  momentous  arguments  of  the  Analog}'  could  be  arrayed 
in  the  pleasing  forms  of  a  flowing  diction.  Let  the  reader  allow 
one  wonl  to  escaj)e  from  any  passage  in  the  book,  or  endeavor  to 
replace  it  by  some  other,  and  he  will  soon  be  sensible  of  the  loss 
to  the  argument.  There  arc  a  few  passages  in  which  the  mem- 
bers or  v.ords  might  be  transposed  for  the  better  :  but  the  thoughts 
and  arguments  of  Butler  arc  Jixcd  in  his  own  severe  and  ini]iressive 
language  :  and  he  who  allows  them  to  escape  from  the  verbal  forms 
into  wiiich  the  author  has  compressed  them,  will  find  himself  ut- 
terly unable  to  reassemble  and  marshal  them  again  with  effect. 
And  he  may  well  doubt  his  success  in  studying  the  Analog)'  who 
complains  of  the  dryness  and  obscuritjr  of  the  language.  He  has 
not  yet  ascended  to  the  high  and  holy  fountains  from  whence  ema- 
nated this  imperishable  monument  of  intellect  and  piet)'. 

We  have  already  said  that  tlie  Analogy  docs  not  propose  to  de- 
monstrate the  truth  of  revelation,  but  simply  to  show  that  it  is  not 
unreiisonable  ;  and  by  considering  the  works  and  providence  of 
God,  to  obviate  objections  which  have  been  brought  against  it. 
The  argiunent,  therefore,  proceeds  on  probability,  and  the  author 
clearly  sliows  that  all  the  momentous  affairs  of  this  life  arc  con- 
ducted on  the  same  kind  of  evidence.  The  following  paragraphs 
will  give  a  clear  view  of  the  nature  of  the  evidence : — 

"Probable  evidence  is  essentially  dislini^uisbed  from  demonstrative 
by  this,  that  it  admits  of  de^rrees,  and  of  all  variety  of  them,  from  the 
liighest  moral  certainty  to  the  very  lowest  presumption.     We  cannot, 


1S41.]  Butler's  Analogy  of  KcJigion.  571 

indeed,  say  a  thing  is  probably  true  upon  one  very  slight  presumption 
for  it ;  because  as  there  may  be  probabililios  on  both  sides  ol'  the 
question,  tliere  may  be  some  against  it ;  and  though  there  be  nor,  yet 
a  slight  presumption  does  not  beget  that  degree  ol'  conviction,  ^vhich 
is  implied  in  saying  a  thing  is  probably  true,  liut  that  the  slightest  pos- 
sible presumj)tion  is  of  the  naluveof  a  probability,  appears  from  hence, 
that  such  low  presumption,  oficn  repeated,  Avill  amount  even  to  moral 
certainly.  Thus,  a  man's  having  observed  the  ebb  and  flow  of  thr  tide 
to-day,  afibrds  some  sort  of  presumption,  tliougli  the  lowest  imaginable, 
that  it  may  happen  again  to-morrow;  but  the  observation  of  this  event 
for  so  many  days,  and  months,  and  ages  together,  as  it  has  been  ob- 
served by  mankind,  gives  us  a  lull  assurance  that  it  will. 

"  That  which  chiedy  constitutes  probabiliti/,  is  expressed  in  the 
word  Ukchj ;  i.e.,  like  some  truth,*  or  true  event;  like  it,  in  ilself,  ia 
its  evidence,  in  some  more  or  fewer  of  its  circumstances.  For  when 
we  determine  a  thing  to  be  probably  true,  suppose  that  an  event  lias 
or  will  come  to  p:iss,  'tis  from  the  mind's  remarking  in  it  a  likeness 
to  some  other  event  which  we  have  observed  has  come  to  pass.  And 
tliis  observation  forms,  in  numberless  daily  instances,  a  presumption, 
opinion,  or  full  conviction,  that  such  event  lias  or  will  come  to  pass  ; 
according  as  the  observation  is,  that  the  like  event  has  somciimcs, 
most  commonly,  or  always,  so  far  as  our  observation  reaches,  come  to 
pass  at  like  disiantes  of  lime,  or  place,  or  upon  lii;e  occasions.  Hence 
arises  the  lolief,  lliit  a  child,  if  it  lives  twenty  years,  will  grow  up  to 
the  stature  and  sircngth  of  a  man  ;  th?t  food  will  contribute  to  the 
preservation  of  its  life,  and  the  want  of  it  for  such  a  number  of  days 
be  its  certain  destruction.  So,  likewise,  tlie  rule  and  measure  of  our 
hopes  and  fears  concerning  the  success  of  our  pursuits  ;  our  expecta- 
tions that  others  will  act  so  and  so  in  such  circumslancos  ;  and  our 
judgment  that  such  actions  proceed  from  such  principles  ;  all  these 
rely  upon  our  having  observed  the  like  to  what  we  hope,  fear,  expect, 
judge  ;  I  say  upon  our  having  observed  the  like,  either  with  respect 
to  others  or  ourselves.  And  thus,  whereas  the  prince,!  wdio  had 
always  lived  in  a  warm  climate,  naturally  concluded,  in  the  way  of 
analogy,  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  water's  becoming  hard,  be- 
cause iie  had  always  observed  it  to  be  fluid  and  yielding;  we,  on  the 
contrary,  from  analogy,  conclude,  that  there  is  no  presumption  at  all 
against  this  ;  that  it  is  supposable  there  may  be  frost  in  England  any 
given  day  in  January  next ;  probable,  that  there  will  on  some  day  of 
the  month ;  and  that  there  is  a  moral  certainty,  i.  c,  ground  for  an  ex- 
pectation, without  any  doubt  of  it,  in  some  part  or  other  of  the  winter. 

"  Probable  evidence,  in  its  very  nature,  aflbrds  but  an  imperfect  kind 
of  informu(ii.>n,  and  is  to  be  considered  as  relative  only  to  beings  of 
limited  capacities.  For  nothing  which  is  the  possible  object  of  know- 
ledge, whether  past,  present,  or  future,  can  be  pi-obable  to  an  inlinile 
intelligence  i.  since  it  cannot  but  be  discerned  absolutely  as  it  is  in 
itself  certainly  true,  or  certainly  false.  But  to  us  probability  is  the 
very  guide  of  life. 

•  Verisimile. 

fThe  story  l?  told  by  Jlr.  I.ocke,  in  the  chapter  of  Probability. 


572  Butler  s  Analogy  of  Religion.  [October, 

"  From  these  tlilncjs  it  follows,  that  in  questions  of  difficulty,  or  such 
as  arc  thought  so,  where  more  satisfactory  evidence  cannot  be  had,  or 
is  not  seen,  if  the  result  of  examination  be,  that  there  appears,  upon 
the  whole,  any  the  lowest  presumption  on  one  side,  and  none  on 
the  other,  or  a  greater  jn-csmiiption  on  one  side,  though  in  the  lowest 
degree  greater,  this  determines  the  question,  even  in  matters  of  specu- 
lation :  and,  in  matters  of  practice,  will  lay  us  under  an  absolute  and 
formal  cblJL'.'ilion,  in  point  of  prudence  and  of  interest,  to  act  upon  that 
presumption,  or  low  probability,  though  it  bo  so  low  as  to  leave  the 
mind  in  a  very  great  doubt  which  is  the  truth.  For  surely  a  man  is 
as  really  bound  in  prudence  to  do  what  upon  the  whole  appears,  ac- 
cording to  the  best  of  his  judgment,  to  be  for  his  happiness,  as  what 
he  certainly  knows  to  bo  so.  Nay,  further,  iu  questions  of  great  con- 
sequence, a  reasonable  man  will  think  it  concerns  him  to  remark 
lower  ])robabililies  and  jiresumptions  than  these  ;  such  as  amount  to  no 
more  than  shov/ing  one  side  of  a  question  to  be  as  supposablc  and 
credible  as  the  other;  nay,  such  as  but  amount  to  much  less  even 
than  this.  For  numberless  instances  might  be  mentioned  respect- 
ing the  common  pursuits  of  life,  where  a  man  would  be  thought,  in  a 
literal  sense,  dislraclcd.  who  would  not  act,  and  with  great  application 
too,  not  only  upon  an  e^T■n  cluince,  b>it  upon  much  less,  and  where  the 
probability  or  chance  was  greatly  against  his  succeeding."* — Inlrodtic- 
tion,  pp.  10.0,  lOG,  107.      " 

The  reader  will  sec  clearly  both  the  plan  and  object  of  tlic  argu- 
ment in  the  following  passage  : — 

"  Let  us  then,  instead  of  that  idle  and  not  very  innocent  employ- 
ment of  forming  imaginary  models  of  a  world,  and  schemes  of  govern- 
ing it,  turn  our  thoughts  to  what  we  experience  to  be  the  conduct  of 
nature  with  respect  to  intelligent  creatures;  ^^■hich  may  be  resolved 
into  general  laws  or  rules  of  administration,  in  the  same  way  as  many 
of  the  laws  of  nature,  respecting  inanimate  matter,  may  be  collected 
from  experiments.  And  let  us  compare  the  known  constitution  and 
course  of  things  with  what  is  said  to  be  the  moral  system  of  nature. 
the  acknov.-ledged  dispensations  of  providence,  or  that  government 
Avhich  we  find  ourselves  under,  with  what  religion  teaches  us  to  be- 
lieve ami  expect,  and  see  whether  they  arc  not  analagous,  and  of  a 
piece.  And  upon  such  a  comparison  it  will,  I  think,  be  found,  that 
they  arc  very  much  so  ;  that  both  may  be  traced  up  to  the  same  general 
laws,  and  resolved  into  the  same  principles  of  divine  conduct." — Intro- 
duction, p.  111. 

Tlie  work  is  divided  into  two  part.s  : — I.  Of  Natural  Rrligion. 
II.  Of  KcLcalcd  Rcligio)!.  There  arc  seven  propositions  con- 
sidered ill  the  first  part,  and  eight  in  the  second.  The  propositions 
in  Part  I.  embrace  the  principal  points  in  natural  religion  which 
are  also  distinctly  taught  in  tlie  Scriptures.  The  eight  topics  in 
*  See  Chapter  vi,  Part  3. 


1841.]  Butler'' s  Analogy  of  Religion.  573 

Pari  II.  arc  dismissed  with  a  view  to  mccl  the  principal  objections 
whicli  have  been  brought  against  revelation  considered  in  itself,  as 
distinguished  from  objections  against  the  proofs  of  it.  It  is  here 
clearly  sliown  lliat  these  objections  lie  equally  against  tlie  natural 
government  of  God  with  respect  to  his  physical  crcatioiis,  and 
with  respect  to  society  ;  so  that  if  we  admit  the  apphcation  against 
religion,  we  must  also  admit  it  against  llie  natural  and  moral  govern- 
ment of  God.  This  conclusion  clearly  established  in  the  mind  of 
the  student  .settles  the  question  of  the  authenticity  of  revelation, 
unless  he  reject  tlie  idea  of  tlie  government  of  God  both  wilh  re- 
spect to  the  natural  and  the  moral  world.  This  is  impossible  without 
letting  in  the  doctrine  of  atheism,  whicli  must  bring  wilJi  it  tliu  re- 
volting belief  of  confusion  and  irresponsibihty  in  this  world,  and 
annihilation  in  the  world  to  come. 

Before  we  proceed  to  analyze  the  argument  on  some  of  these 
principal  topics,  it  will  be  well  for  the  reader  to  have  a  clear  un- 
derstanding of  Dr.  Butler's  view  of  the  coimeclion  between  natural 
and  revealed  religion  : — 

"Bill  the  importance  of  Christianity  will  more  dislinctl}'  appear, 
by  considering  it  more  distinctly :  First,  As  a  republication,  and  ex- 
ternal institution,  of  natural  or  essential  religion,  adapted  to  the  pre- 
sent circumstances  of  mankiird,  and  intended  to  promote  natural  piety 
and  virtue  ;  and  sccundhj,  As  containing  an  account  of  a  dispensation 
of  things  not  discoverable  by  reason,  in  consequence  of  which  several 
distinct  jirecc'pts  arc  enjoined  us.  For,  ihoagh  natural  religion  is  the 
foundation  and  principal  part  of  Christiaiuty,  it  is  not  in  any  sense  the 
whole  of  it. 

"  Christianity  is  a  republication  of  natural  religion.  It  instructs 
manldnd  in  the  moral  system  of  the. world;  that  it  is  the  work  of  an 
infinitely  perfect  Being,  and  under  his  government ;  tlint  virtue  is  his  . 
law;  and  that  he  will  finally  Judge  mankind  in  righteousness,  :uid 
render  to  all  according  to  their  works  in  a  fiituic  state.  And,  \\-hich 
is  very  material,  it  teaches  natural  religion  in  its  genuine  simplicity, 
free  from  those  superstitions  with  which  it  was  totally  corrupted,  and 
under  which  it  was  in  a  manner  lost." — P.  217. 

One  of  the  first  suggestions  of  natural  religion  is  the  idea  of  a 
future  life.  In  the  Scriptures  this  suggestion  is  developed  into  a 
setded  doctrine,  clearly  and  repeatedly  taught.  The  first  chapter 
in  the  Analogy  is  devoted  to  this  question,  "  Of  a  future  life,"  and 
its  object  is  to  "  consider  what  the  analogy  of  nature,  and  the  seve- 
ral changes  which  we  liave  undergone,  and  those  which  we  know 
we  may  undergo  witliout  being  destroyed,  suggest  as  to  the  effect 


574  Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion.  [October 

wliich  dcatli  may,  or  may  not,  have  upon  us  ;  and  wliether  it  be 
not,  from  ihcnce  probable,  lliat  \vc  may  sm-vive  this  change,  and 
exist  in  a  future  stale  of  life  and  perception."  The  ground  of  the 
analogy  is,  "  that  wc  find  it  to  be  a  general  law  of  nature  in  our 
own  species,  (and  in  other  creatures  the  same  law  holds,)  that  tlic 
same  creatures,  the  same  individuals  should  exist  in  degrees  of  life 
and  perception,  with  capacities  of  action,  of  enjoyment  and  suffer- 
ing in  one  period  of  their  being,  gTcatly  diflerent  from  those 
appointed  them  in  another  period  of  it." — P.  115. 

Now  if  this  can  be  shown  to  be  the  "  general  law  of  nature  in 
our  own  species,"  and  also  with  respect  "  to  other  creatures,"  in 
lliis  present  world,  is  it  at  all  unreasonable  to  conclude  that  death 
is  merely  one  of  those  changes  which,  instead  of  destroying  us, 
will  introduce  us  into  other  and  higher  "  degrees  of  life  and  per- 
ception ?"  The  thing  required  then  is,  to  establish  the  probability 
of  this  geiiornl  taw  of  our  own  species,  and  of  other  creatures  ;  with 
respect  to  wliich  the  author  says, — 

"The  dilTorencc  of  their  capacities  and  states  of  life  at  their  birth 
(lo  go  no  liiylicr)  and  in  maturity;  the  change  of  worms  into  ilies,  and 
llic  vast  enlargement  of  their  locomotive  powers  by  such  change  ;  and 
birds  and  insc^cts  Inirsling  llio  shell,  their  habilation,  and  by  this  means 
entering  inlo  a  new  world,  furnished  with  new  accommodHiions  for 
ihcra  ;  and  finding  a  new  sphere  of  action  assigned  them  ; — these  are 
iusunu'cs  of  this  rrcncral  law  of  nature.  Thus  all  the  various  and 
wonderful  irau^furnialioiis  of  animals  are  to  be  taken  into  consideration 
here.  But  the  states  of  life  in  v.-hich  we  ourselves  existed  formerly, 
in  the  womb  and  in  our  infancy,  are  almost  as  ditlerent  iroin  our  pre- 
sent, in  inaturc  age,  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive  any  two  states  or 
degrees  of  life  can  be.  TJiereibre,  that  we  are  to  exist  hcreal'tcr  in  a 
stale  as  dilTerent  (suppose)  from  our  present,  as  this  is  from  our  former, 
is  but  according  to  the  analog)'  of  nature  ;  according  to  a  natural  order 
or  apiioiniiui'nt,  of  the  very  same  kind  with  what  we  have  already 
experienced." — P.  IIG. 

Tiie  argument  now  jjrocecds  upon  tlie  ancdog)'  between  the 
grounds  of  our  belief  that  the  world  will  continue  to-morrow  as  it 
lias  done  to-day,  and  of  our  belief  in  the  continued  existence  of  the 
soul  after  death.  Wc  are  obliged  to  admit  that  the  last  event  is 
as  probable  as  the  first,  uidcss  there  be  some  positive  reason  to 
ihink  that  death  is  tlie  destruction  of  those  living  powers.  The 
elements  of  this  argument  we  give  in  the  author's  own  words: — 

"  We  know  wc  are  endued  with  capacities  of  action,  of  happiness. 


1841.]  Bialcr''s  Analog ij  of  Religion.  575 

and  miser)' ;  for  we  are  conscious  of  acting,  of  enjoying  pleasure,  and 
sullcring  pain.  Now,  ihat  we  liavc  tliesc  powers  and  cajjacities  be- 
fore death,  is  a  presumption  that  we  sliall  retain  thcrn  through  and 
after  death  ;  indeed,  a  probability  of  it  abundantly  suflicicnt  to  act  upon, 
unless  lliere  bo  some  positive  renson  to  think  that  death  is  the  destruc- 
tion of  those  living  powers  ;  bccatise  there  is  in  every  case  a  proba- 
bility, that  all  things  will  continue  as  we  experience  they  are,  in  all 
respects,  except  those  in  which  wc  have  some  reason  to  think  they 
will  be  altered.  Tliis  is  that  /.i/iii'  of  jn-esuiiiption,  or  probability,  from 
analogy,  expressed  in  the  very  word  continuance,  which,  seems  our 
only  natural  reason  for  believing  the  course  of  the  world  will  continue 
to-morrow,  as  it  has  done  so  far  as  our  experience  or  knowledge  of 
history  can  carry  us  back.  Nay,  it  seems  our  only  reason  for  believ- 
ing, that  any  one  substance,  now  existing,  will  continue  to  exist  a 
moment  longer ;  the  self-existent  substance  only  excepted.  Thus,  if 
men  were  assured  that  the  unknovvn  event,  death,  v.-as  not  the  destruc- 
tion of  our  faculties  of  perception  and  of  action,  there  would  be  no 
apprehension  that  any  other  power  or  event,  unconnected  with  this  of 
death,  would  destroy  these  faculties  just  at  the  instant  of  each  crea- 
ture's death  ;  and  therefore  no  doubt  but  that  they  would  remain  after 
it ;  which  shows  the  high  probability  that  our  living  powers  will  con- 
tinue after  death,  luiless  there  be  some  ground  to  think  that  death  is 
their  destruction.!  For,  if  it  would  be  in  a  manner  certain  that  wc 
sho\iId  survive  death,  provided  it  were  certain  that  di  ath  would  not  be 
our  destruction,  it  must  be  highly  probal)le  v.-e  shall  survive  it,  if  there 
be  no  ground  to  think  death  will  be  our  destruction." — Pp.  116,  117. 

If  there  be  an}'  gi-ound  for  us  to  conclude  that  death  will  be  the 
destruction  of  our  living  powers,  it  must  be  cither  "from  the  reason 
of  the  thing,  or  from  the  analogy  of  nature."  In  studj'ing  tlie  ar- 
gument in  the  following  quotation  on  these  two  points,  the  reader 
will  do  well  to  distinguish  clearly,  and  bear  in  mind,  the  difference 
between  "the  existence  of  the  living  powers," — the  "actual  ex- 
ercise" of  them, — and  "the  present  capacity  of  exercising  thcrri." 
These  living  powers  may  exist  when  they  are  not  exercised,  and 

"  *  I  say  Xidft'  nf  presumption  or  probabihty  ;  for  I  do  not  mean  to  aflirm, 
that  there  is  the  same  chr;rcc  of  couvielioii  that  our  living  powers  will  continue 
after  death,  as  tlicre  is  that  our  sub.stauces  will. 

'■  ]  ])c.^lruchoii  of  livin:^  powers,  is  a  maimer  of  expression  unavoidably  am- 
biguous ;  aiul  may'siirnify  either  the  destruction  of  a  livin'^  Icins;,  so  as  thai 
the  same  l:vi>ig  Irnirr  ^f.^u  f.^.  incajiahle  of  ever  jKrceiciii!^  or  acting  again  at 
all;  or  the  drstrac'.ion  of  those  ?ncans  and  insl?-:imcnts  In/  u-hich  it  is  capcble 
of  its  present  life,  of  its  present  slate  of  prreeplmn  and  of  action.  It  is  licre 
used  in  the  former  sense.  When  it  is  usud  in  the  lattrT,  the  epithet  pmsr.it  is 
added.  The  loss  of  a  man's  eye  is  a  destruelioii  ol'livin?  powers  m  tbc  latter 
sense.  But  wc  have  no  reason  to  tldnk  llie  <leslruction'' of  livinir  powers,  in 
the  former  sense,  to  be  possible.  We  have  no  more  reason  to  think  a  lieing, 
endued  with  living  powers,  ever  loses  them  during  its  whole  existence,  than  to 
believe  that  a  .stone  ever  acquires  them." 


576  Butler'' s  Analogy  of  Religion.  [October, 

wlien  tlierc  is  no  present  capacity  of  exeixisiiig  them ;  tlicixfnre, 
if  it  could  be  proved,  which  it  cannot,  that  death  suspends  the  ex- 
ercise of  them,  or  even  destroys  the  present  capacity  of  cxcrcisint; 
tlioin,  it  would  not  be  proved  that  they  do  not  exist.  Tiie  autlior 
sa3"s : — 

"  But  wo  cannot,  argue  from  the  reason  of  the  thing,  lh;il  death  is  the 
destruction  of  living  agents,  because  we  know  not  at  all  wir.it  ilcatU  is 
in  itself;  but  only  some  of  its  effects,  such  as  the  dissolution  of  llc^li, 
skin,  and  bones  ;  and  these  effects  do  in  no  wise  apjioar  to  imply  thu 
destruction  of  a  living  agent.  And,  besides,  as  we  are  greatly  in  the 
dark  upon  what  the  exercise  of  our  living  povrers  depends,  .so  we  are 
•wholly  ignorant  what  the  poAvers  themselves  dejjend  upon  ;  tlie 
powers  themselves,  as  distinguished,  not  only  from  their  actual  exer- 
cise, but  also  from  the  present  capacity  of  exercising  them  ;  and  op- 
posed to  their  destruction  ;  for  sleep,  or,  however,  a  swoon,  sliows  ns, 
not  only  that  these  powers  exist  when  they  are  not  exercised,  as  the 
passive  power  of  motion  does  in  inanimate  matter  ;  but  shows  also 
that  they  exist,  when  there  is  no  present  capacity  of  exercising  them  : 
or  that  the  capacities  of  exercising  them  for  th'  present,  as  well  as  the 
actual  exercise  of  them,  may  be  suspended,  and  )  ■■t  the  powers  them- 
selves remain  undestroyed.  Since,  then,  wc  know  not  at  all  upon 
what  the  existence  of  our  living  powers  depends,  tins  shows  further, 
there  can  no  probability  be  collected  from  the  reason  of  the  thiny,  that 
death  M-ill  be  their  destruction  ;  because  their  existence  may  dejiend 
ujion  somewhat  in  no  degree  afl'ecled  by  death;  upon  somewhat  (piite 
out  of  the  reach  of  this  king  of  terrors.  So  that  there  is  nothing  nuire 
certain,  than  that  tJte  reasoning  of  the  thing  shows  us  no  coimeclion 
between  death  and  the  destruction  of  living  agents.  Nor  can  v.'c  \\\v\ 
any  thing  throughout  the  whole  analogy  of  nature,  to  afl'ord  us  even  the 
slightest  presumption  that  animals  ever  lose  their  living  powers;  much 
less,  if  it  were  possible,  that  they  lose  them  by  death  ;  for  we  have  no 
faculties  wlicrewith  to  trace  any  beyond  or  through  it,  so  as  to  see 
what  becomes  of  them.  This  event  removes  them  from  our  view.  It 
destroys  the  sensible  proof,  which  we  had  before  their  death,  of  their 
being  possessed  of  living  powers,  hut  docs  not  appear  to  ail'onl  llie 
least  reason  to  believe,  that  they  are  then,  or  by  that  event,  deprived 
of  them. 

"  And  our  knowing,  that  they  were  possessed  of  these  powers,  up 
lo  the  very  period  to  which  we  have  faculties  capable  of  tracing  them, 
is  itself  a  probability  of  their  retaining  them  beyond  it.  And  this  is 
confirmed,  and  a  sensible  credibility  is  given  to  it,  by  observing  tlic 
very  great  and  astonishing  changes  which  wc  have  exponeneed  ;  so 
great,  that  our  existence  in  another  state  of  life,  of  perception  and  ol 
action,  will  be  but  according  to  a  method  of  proviJeutial  conihict,  the 
like  to  which  has  been  already  exercised,  even  with  rcjard  lo  our- 
selves;  according  to  a  course  of  nature,  the  like  to  whieh  \se  have 
already  gone  through." — Pp.  117,  118. 

Notwilhstanding  the  probability  of  a  future  life  is  tlius  sustained 


1841.]  Butler'' s  Analogy  of  Religion.  577 

by  the  analogies  of  nalure,  j'ct  the  effects  which  wc  perceive  to 
follow  death,  sucli  as  the  loathsome  dissolution  of  the  body,  the 
ciiange  in  the  condition  of  the  individual,  and  his  removal  from 
present  society,  will  raise  "  imaginary  presumptions  that  death  will 
be  our  destruction."  It  is  a  matter  of  importance,  therefore,  to 
sliow  how  little  they  amount  to,  thougii  we  cannot  wholly  divest 
ourselves  of  them.  Tlie  general,  and  indeed  the  onlj'  idea  we  can 
have  of  deatli,  is  from  observing  its  effect,  which  is  dissolution : 
and  this  necessarily  requires  that  the  thing  dissolved  be  compounded. 
If  we  conclude  that  death  may  destroy  the  soul,  we  nnist  conclude 
that  the  soul  is  compounded.  The  admission  of  the  unity  of  the 
soul  is  an  admission  of  its  immortality-,  as  far  as  death  is  concerned: 
for  if  it  be  a  unit,  death  cannot  destroy  it.  Dr.  Butler  has  pro- 
duced two  arguments  for  the  unity  of  the  soul.  The  first  one  is 
founded  on  consciousness,*  the  ultimate  proof  in  matters  of  personal 
experience,  beyond  which  we  cannot  inquire.  Each  one  knows  in 
himself  that  "  consciousness  is  a  single  and  individual  pov/er ;" 
therefore,  "  it  should  seem  that  the  subject  in  wliich  it  resides 
nnist  be  so  too."  Tiiis  argument  docs  not  demonstrate  the  pro- 
position, but  raises  a  strong  probability,  sufficient  to  act  upon  ;  and 
upon  this  presumption  the  author  proceeds  to  his  second  argument, 
which  we  give  in  iiis  own  words  : — 

"  II.  The  simplicity  and  absolute  oneness  of  a  living  agent  cannot, 
indeed,  from  the  nature  of  die  thing,  be  properly  proved  by  expe- 
rimental observations.  But  as  these  fall  in  with  the  supposition  of  its 
unity,  so  tlioy  plainly  lead  us  to  conclude  certainly,  that  our  gross  or- 
ganized bodii-^s,  witli  which  we  perceive  the  objects  of  sense,  and  with 
which  we  act.  arc  no  part  of  ourselves,  and  therefore  show  us,  that 
we  have  no  reason  to  believe  their  destruction  to  be  ours  ;  even  with- 
out determining  whether  our  living  substances  be  material  or  inuna- 
tcrial.  For  we  see  by  experience,  that  men  may  lose  their  limbs, 
their  organs  of  sense,  and  even  the  greatest  part  of  these  bodies,  and 
yet  remain  the  same  living  agents.  And  persons  can  trace  up  the  ex- 
istence of  tliemselves  to  a  time  when  the  bulk  of  their  bodies  was 
extremely  srnnll,  in  comparison  of  what  it  is  in  mature  age  ;  and  we 
cannot  but  tliink,  that  they  might  then  have  lost  a  considerable  part  of 
that  small  body,  and  yet  have  remained  the  same  living  agents,  as  tliey 
may  now  lose  great  part  of  their  present  body,  and  remain  so.     And 

*  This  argument  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  founded  on  its  unity,  is  found 
in  Cicero  de  Scnectule,  cap.  21  > — Et,  cum  simplex  animi  natura  esset,  ncque 
habcret  in  se  quidquani  admixtum  dispar  sui  atque  dissimilo,  non  posse  eum 
dividi ;  quod  si  non  possit,  non  posse  interire. 


578  Butlers  Analogy  of  Rrligion.  [October, 

it  is  certain,  that  thn  boJies  of  all  animals  are  in  a  constant  flux,  from 
that  nevcr-ceasinf;  altrilioa  whicli  thfre  is  in  every  part  of  them. 
Now,  things  of  this  kind  unavoidably  leach  ns  to  distinguish  between 
these  living  agents,  ourselves,  and  large  quantities  of  matter,  in  which 
■we  arc  very  nearly  interested :  since  these  may  be  alienated,  and 
actually  arc  in  a  daily  course  of  succession,  and  changing  their  owners  ; 
while  we  are  assured,  that  each  living  agent  remains  one  and  the 
same  permanent  being."* — P.  120. 

Upon  this  coiu-se  of  reasoning  ihe  author  makes  several  general 
reflections  of  great  importance,  of  which  the  third  should  claiin 
special  atlcntioii.  It  is  intended,  in  conjunction  witli  the  preceding 
argument,  to  estabhsh  the  fact  that  the  living  being  each  one  calls 
himself  is  merely  the  rational  spirit  occupying  and  using  the  body 
as  a  complicated  instrument,  which  is  dependent  upon  the  living 
being,  not  the  living  being  upon  it.  Hence,  the  instrument,  the 
body,  ma}'  be  destroyed  by  death,  but  the  living  being,  the  soul,  is 
indestructible  by  this  event.  We  are  confirmed  in. this  conclusion 
by  our  consciousness  of  identity  in  the  nature  of  the  sensations 
which  we  experience  wlien  we  look  upon  a  star  wilh  the  naked 
eye,  and  then,  by  tlie  aid  of  a  telescope,  upon  another  which  is  in- 
visible to  the  naked  eye.  The  impressions  which  we  receive  arc 
of  precisely  the  same  kind,  thus  proving  clearly,  that  the  eye  and 
the  telescope  bear  the  same  relation  to  our  living  power  ;  i.  e.,  the 
relation  of  an  instrument  merely.  And  as  we  can  lay  aside  the 
telescope  without  any  apprehension  of  the  destruction  of  our  living 
power,  so  we  ma}'  certainly  conclude  that  we  may  lay  aside  the 
ctje  without  any  such  apprehension.  A  like  instance,  a  like  argu- 
ment, and  a  like  conclusion,  may  be  produced  by  referring  to  our 
feeling  distant  solid  matter  by  means  of  somewhat  in  our  hands,  as 
a  stick.  Let  the  reader  try  this  experiment,  and  he  will  feci  the 
argument.  You  sec  a  body  ten  feet  from  you,  which  you  cannot 
touch  with  your  hand  to  determine  whether  it  be  hard  or  soft ;  but 
you  can  take  hold  of  a  pole  and  touch  it,  and  determine  the  rpics- 
lion  of  its  hardness  or  softness  just  as  satisfactorily  as  if  you  had 
touched  it  with  your  hand.  This  detcrinination  rests  upon  the 
sensation  conveyed,  from  the  body  touched,  through  the  jioir,  a 
space  of  ten  feet,  and  through  the  arm,  a  space,  say,  of  two  feet, 
to  the  perceiving  power,  or  the  soul.  We  are  conscious  of  this 
fact :  but  we  are  not  conscious  of  any  difference  in  the  sensation 
*  See  Dissertation  I. 


1841.]  Butler'' s  Aimlogy  of  Religion.  579 

during  its  communication  along  tlie  pole  and  along  the  arm.  Wo 
throw  away  the  pole,  or  it  is  dissolved  in  tlie  fire,  and  yet  we  do 
not  apprehend  the  destruction  of  the  living  power.  Tiie  same 
course  of  reasoning  will  hold  good  of  all  the  senses,  and  of  all  the 
matter  wliicli  enters  into  the  composition  of  our  bodies.  This 
Jirgument  is  further  and  forcibly  expanded  l)y  the  author,  wlio 
di-aws  the  following  clear  conclusions  : — 

"  Upon  llic  whole,  then,  our  organs  of  sense  anJ  our  limbs  are  cer- 
tainly instruments,  which  the  living  persons,  ourselves,  make  use  of  to 
perceive  and  move  \\\\\\.  There  is  not  any  prolinliility  that  they  are 
any  more  ;  nor,  consequently,  that  we  have  any  other  kind  of  relation 
to  them  than  what  we  may  have  to  anj'  other  foreign  matter  formed 
into  instruments  of  perception  and  motion,  suppose  into  a  niicroscope 
or  a  stall",  (I  say,  any  other  kind  of  relation,  for  I  am  not  speaking  of 
the  degree  of  it.)"— P.  123. 

Another  conclusive  argimient,  showing  thai  the  living  power  is 
entirely  independent  of  the  body,  and,  therefore,  that  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  latter  docs  not  necessarily  draw  after  it  that  of  the 
former,  is  founded  on  the  two  states  of  life  and  perception  in  which 
we  know  we  exist :  i.  e.,  the  state  of  sensation  and  the  state  of 
rejlection.  It  is  a  matter  of  consciousness  that  the  power  of  rc- 
Hcction  is  independent  of  the  slate  of  sensation.  And  the  explana- 
tion is  plainly  this:  the  powers  of  sensation  inhere  in  tlie  body; 
the  powers  of  reflection  inhere  in  the  living  being.  Now,  if  the 
Elate  of  reflection  is  independent  of  the  state  of  sensation,  (and  this 
is  a  matter  of  consciousness,)  it  follows  inevitably,  that  the  living 
being  in  which  the  powers  of  reflection  inhere  must  be  independent 
of  the  body  in  which  the  powers  of  sensation  inhere  :  of  course, 
the  destruction  of  the  latter  will  not  be,  necessarily,  the  destruction 
of  the  former.  This  beautiful  and  important  argument  is  put  into 
a  breathing  form  in  the  follov.'ing  paragraph  : — 

"  Iliunan  creatures  exist  at  present  in  two  states  of  life  and  percep- 
tion, liicatly  diiTcrent  from  each  other;  each  of  which  has  its  own 
peculiar  laws,  and  its  own  peculiar  enjoyments  and  sulTevings.  When 
any  of  our  senses  are  afTected,  or  appetites  gratified  with  the  objects 
of  them,  wc  may  be  said  to  exist,  or  live,  in  a  state  of  sensation. 
Wlien  none  of  our  senses  are  atTecled,  or  appetites  gratified,  and  yet 
we  perceive,  and  reason,  and  act,  wc  may  be  said  to  exist,  or  live,  in 
a  state  of  reflection.  Now  it  is  by  no  means  certain,  that  any  thing 
which  is  dissolved  by  death  is  any  way  necessary  to  the  living  being, 
in  this  its  state  of  reflection,  after  ideas  are  gaiueil.  For  though,  from 
our  present  constitution  and  condition  of  being,  our  external  organs  of 


5S0  BtitJrr's  A  nahgij  of  Religion.  [October, 

sense  are  necessary  for  convcyiiin;  iu  ideas  to  our  reflecting  powers, 
as  carriages,  and  levers,  and  sciillolds  are  in  architecliire  ;  yet,  wlicn 
these  ideas  are  bvouglit  in,  we  are  cajiablc  of  reflecting  in  tlie  most 
intense  degree,  and  of  enjoying  tlie  greatest  pleasure,  and  feeling  tlie 
greatest  pain,  by  means  of  tliat  reflection,  without  any  assistance  from 
our  senses  ;  and  wilhout  any  at  all,  which  we  know  of,  from  that  body, 
which  will  be  dissolved  by  death.  It  does  not  appear,  then,  thai  the 
relation  of  this  gross  body  to  the  reflecting  being  is,  in  any  degree, 
necessary  to  thinking;  to  our  intellectual  enjo)'-mcnts  or  sufl'crings  : 
nor,  consequently,  that  the  dissolution,  or  alienation  of  the  former  by 
death,  will  be  the  destruction  of  those  present  powers,  which  render 
us  capable  of  this  state  of  reflection." — P.  125. 

Wc  liave  llius  analyzed  the  most  copious  and  cliiborate  argu- 
ment in  tlie  book,  in  order  to  give  the  reader  a  fair  specimen  of 
the  autiior's  manner  and  matter.  It  will  not  be  necessary  to  be  so 
diffuse  in  tlie  following  pages. 

In  cliaptcr  second,  Bishop  Bullcr  treats  "  Of  tlie  government  of 
G'od  hij  rercards  and  punishments ;  and  parlicidarli/  of  the  latter." 
That  God  will  reward  and  punish  us  according  to  our  actions  here, 
is  a  leading  doctrine  of  religion.  The  object  of  the  present  cliapter 
is,  to  show  that  the  natural  government  of  God,  already  established 
in  the  earth,  clearly  suggests  this  doctrine.  The  ground  of  the 
analogy  is,  that  "  in  the  present  state,  all  which  we  enjoy,  and  a 
great  part  of  what  we  sufl'er,  is  put  in  our  men  poieer.'"  In  proof 
of  this  fundamental  law  of  the  natural  government  of  God,  the 
author  remarks : — 

"  We  find,  by  cxijcricnce,  he  does  not  so  much  as  preserve  our  lives 
exclusively  of  our  own  care  and  attention  to  provide  ourselves  with, 
and  to  make  use  of,  that  sustenance,  by  which  he  has  appointed  our 
lives  shall  be  preserved,  and  w-ithout  which  he  has  appointed  they  shall 
not  be  preserved  at  all.  And  in  general  w-e  foresee  that  the  external 
things,  which  are  the  objects  of  our  various  passions,  can  neither  be 
obtained  nor  enjoyed,  without  exerting  ourselves  in  such  and  such 
manners  ;  but  by  thus  exerting  ourselves,  we  obtain  and  enjoy  these 
objects,  in  which  onr  natural  good  consists,  or  by  this  means  God  gives 
us  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of  them.  1  know  not  that  w^e  have 
any  one  kind  or  degree  of  enjoyment,  but  by  the  means  of  our  own 
actions.  And  by  prudence  and  care,  we  nia}-,  for  the  most  part,  pass 
onr  days  in  tolerable  ease  and  quiet :  or,  on  the  contrary,  we  may,  by 
rashness,  uugoverned  pas:~ion,  wilfulness,  or  even  by  negligence,  make 
ourselves  as  miserable  as  ever  we  please.  And  many  do  please  to 
make  themselves  extremely  miseralde,  i.  e.,  to  do  what  they  know  be- 
forehand will  render  them  so.  They  follow  those  ways,  the  fruit  of 
which  they  know,  by  instruction,  example,  experience,  will  be  dis- 
grace, and  poverty,  and  sickness,  and  untimely  death." — Pp.  130, 131. 


1841.]  Butler's  Analogy  of  RvUglon.  581 

Our  present  enjoyments  and  suflcrings  constitute  our  natural 
good  and  natural  evil ;  and  these  arc  the  natural  consequences  of 
our  actions,  which  consequences  are  not  accidental  or  arbitrary, 
but  are  by  God's  appointment,  and,  therefore, ^a:ccZ  and  incvital>le. 
The  general  method  of  divine  administration,  on  which  the  idea  of 
responsibility  rests,  is  by  "forewarning  iis,  or  giving  us  capacities 
to  foresee,  with  more  or  less  clearness,  that  if  we  act  so  and  so, 
we  shall  have  such  enjoyments  ;  if  so  and  so,  such  sufferings  ;  and 
giving  us  those  enjoyments,  and  making  us  feel  those  sufferings,  in 
consequence  of  our  actions."  In  obedience  to  this  fundamental 
law  of  the  natural  government  of  God,  "  every  man,  in  every  thing 
he  does,  naturally  acts  upon  the  forethought  and  appreliension  of 
avoiding  evil,  or  obtaining  good."  And  this  forcthouglit  and  this 
apprehension  are  not  intended  to  influence  the  consequences  of  th.c 
actions ;  for  these  are  fixed ;  but  simply  to  determine  the  quality 
of  the  actions,  and  thus  put  it  in  his  power  to  obtain  the  desired 
good,  or  to  avoid  the  anticipated  evil. 

From  tlie  preceding  argumentation,  we  may  learn  that  we  are  ai 
present  actually  under  the  government  of  God  in  the  strictest  and 
most  proper  sense  ;  in  such  a  sense  as  that  he  rewards  and  punislies 
us  for  our  actions  :  and  tliis,  too,  in  tlic  same  sense  in  which  we 
are  under  the  government  of  the  civil  msgistrate  : — 

"  Because  the  anncxincr  pleasure  to  some  actions,  and  pain  to  otliers, 
in  our  power  to  do  or  forbear,  and  giving  notice  of  this  appointment 
beforehand  to  those  wliom  it  concerns,  is  the  proper  formal  notion  of 
government.  AVhether  the  pleasure  or  pain,  v.diich  thus  follows  upon 
our  behavior,  be  owing  to  the  Author  of  nature's  acting  upon  us  every 
moment  which  we  feel  it,  or  to  his  having  at  once  contrived  and  exe- 
cuted his  own  part  in  the  plan  of  the  world,  makes  no  alteration  as  to 
the  matter  before  us.  For,  if  civil  magistrates  could  ninke  the  sanc- 
tion of  their  laws  take  place,  without  interposing  at  all,  after  they  had 
passed  them  ;  without  a  trial,  and  the  formalities  of  an  execution  :  if 
they  were  able  to  make  their  laws  execute  them  tliemselves,  or  every 
oflehder  to  exectite  them  upon  himself,  we  should  be  just  in  the  same 
sense  under  their  government  then  as  we  are  now ;  but  in  a  much 
higher  degree,  and  more  perfect  manner." 

"  And  thus  the  whole  analogj'  of  nature,  the  whole  present  course 
of  things,  most  fully  shows,  that  there  is  nothing  incredible  in  the 
general  doctrine  of  religion,  that  God  will  reward  and  punish  men  for 
their  actions  hereafter;  nolhinCT  incredible,  I  mean,  arising  out  of  the 
notion  of  rewarding  and  punishing,  for  the  whole  course  of  nature  is 
a  present  instance  of  his  exercising  that  government  over  us,  which 
implies  in  it  rewarding  and  punishing." — Pp.  133, 134. 

Vol.  I.— 37 


582  Butler's  Analog!/ of  Religion.  [October, 

Chapter  tliiid  treats  "  Of  the  ino7-al  government  of  God"  Tf 
the  reader  liavc  carefully  stiulicd  the  elements  of  the  argument  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  he  will  be  clearly  convinced,  that  we  arc  at 
present  under  the  natural  government  of  God  by  his  appointment 
of  pleasure  and  pain  as  the  consequences  of  actions  which  we  may 
do  or  forbear.  But  this  idea  docs  not  necessarily  carry  with  it  the 
notion  of  a  r/ghlcous  or  moral  government : — 

"  Moral  government  consists,  not  barely  in  rewarding  and  piniishing 
men  for  llicir  actions,  which  the  most  tyrannical  person  may  do  ;  but 
in  rcwardini;  the  righteous  and  pimishing  the  wicked,  in  rendering  to 
jnen  according  to  their  actions  considered  as  good  or  evil.  And  l!ie 
perfection  of  moral  government  consists  in  doing  this,  with  regard  to 
all  intelligent  creatures,  in  an  exact  proportion  to  their  personal  merits 
or  demerits."- — P.  140. 

It  remains,  now,  to  inquire  whether,  in  the  conslitution  and 
conduct  of  the  world,  a  righteous  goveriui'icnt  be  not  disccrnibly 
plaimed  out ;  which  necessarily  implies  a  righteous  governor.  Il 
is  to  be  observed  in  this  inquiry,  that  the  divine  govemment  under 
which  we  experience  ourselves  to  be  in  the  present  state,  taken 
alone,  is  allowed  not  to  be  the  perfection  of  moral  government. 
This  point  is  set  in  a  clear  light  by  the  author  :— 

"  A  righteous  government  may  plainly  appear  lo  be  carried  on  to 
some  degree  ;  enough  to  give  xis  the  apprehension  that  it  shall  he 
completed,  or  carried  on  to  that  degree  of  perfection  which  religion 
teaches  us  it  shall  ;  but  which  cannot  appear,  till  much  more  of  the 
divine  administration  be  seen  than  can  in  the  present  life.  And  the 
design  of  this  chapter  is  to  inquire  how  far  this  is  the  case  ;  how  far, 
over  and  above  the  moral  naUire  which  God  has  given  us,  and  our 
natural  notion  of  him,  as  righteous  governor  of  those  his  creatures  to 
whom  he  has  given  tliis  nature  ;  I  say,  how  far,  besides  this,  the  prin- 
ciples and  beginnings  of  moral  government  over  the  world  may  be 
discerned  notwithstanding  and  amid  all  the  confusion  and  disorder 
of  it."— Pp.  141,  143. 

As  it  has  been  established  that  God  governs  the  world  by  re- 
wards and  punishments,  a  very  naltiral  inquiry  arises, — By  what 
rule  does  he  do  this  ?  For  the  uniformity  of  his  natural  govern- 
ment shows  that  he  has  a  fixed  rule.  The  only  satisfactory  an- 
swer which  can  be  given  to  this  question  will  establish  clearly  the 
idea  of  a  moral  government.  It  wdll  be  found  in  the  words  of  the 
Analogy : — 

"  Since  it  apjioars  to  be  fact,  that  God  does  govern  mankind  by  the 

method  of  rewards  and  punishments,  according  to  some  settled  rules 

37* 


1611.]  Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion.  583 

of  distribution,  it  is  snroly  a  question  to  be  asked,  Wliat  presumption 
is  there  against  his  linaily  rewarding  and  punishing  thtni  according  to 
this  particular  rule,  iiainoly,  as  they  act  reasonably  or  ruireasonably, 
virluously  or  vicinuslv  I  since  rendering  man  happy  or  miserable  by 
this  rule,  ccrlainlv  falls  in,  nuich  more  falls  in,  with  our  natural  appre- 
hensions and  sen.^e  of  things,  than  doing  so  by  any  other  rule  what- 
ever;  since  rewarding  and  punishimi  actions  by  any  other  rule  would 
appear  much  liarder  to  be  accounted  for  by  minds  formed  as  he  has 
formed  ours.  Ee  the  evidence  of  religion,  then,  more  or  less  clear, 
the  expectation  whieli  it  raises  in  us,  that  the  righteous  shall,  upon  the 
whole,  be  happy,  a\id  the  viickcd  miserable,  cannot,  however,  possibly 
be  considered  as  absurd  or  cliimerica! ;  because  it  is  no  more  than  an 
expectation,  that  a  method  of  government,  already  begun,  shall  be  car- 
ried on,  the  method  of  rewarding  and  pimishing  actions  ;  and  shall  be 
carried  on  by  a  particular  rule,  which  unavoidably  appears  to  us,  at 
first  sight,  more  natural  than  any  other,  the  rule  which  we  call  distri- 
butive justice."- — P.  113. 

Tliis  idea  of  llic  moral  government  of  God  is  further  established 
by  an  examination  of  the  conduct  of  society.  All  admit  tliat  so- 
ciety is  natural,  and,  of  course,  by  divine  appointment.  But  tliis 
notion  of  moral  government  lies  at  the  foundation  of  society  : — 

"  It  is  necessary  to  the  very  being  of  society  that  vices  destructive 
of  it  should  be  pimished  as  bciiig  so:  which  punishment  is  as  natural 
as  society,  and  so  is  an  instance  of  a  kind  of  moral  government,  natu- 
rall)-  established,  and  actually  taking  place."  Hence,  "  mankind  find 
themselves  placed  by  God  in  such  circumstances,  as  that  they  are  un- 
avoidably accountable  for  their  behavior,  and  are  often  punished,  and 
are  sometimes  rewarded  under  his  government,  in  the  view  of  their 
being  miscliievous  or  eminently  beneficial  to  society." — P.  144. 

Society  never  avowedly  violates  this  rule.  When  it  punishes, 
it  always  alleges  lliat  tlic  subject  is  vicious  :  when  it  rewards,  that 
lie  is  virtuous.  If  the  executive  of  the  laws  were  to  assign  any 
other  cause  for  piutisliing  or  rewarding,  society  would  revolt,  from 
an  instinctive  sense  of  wrong  :  and  if  tlic  wrong  were  continued, 
t!ic  wliolc  framework  of  society  would  give  way  and  be  resolved 
into  its  original  elements :  so  positively  is  the  moral  government 
of  God  established  in  the  eartli ;  and  so  clearly  and  constantly  does 
he  admonish  us  of  its  existence  and  steady  execution. 

It  would  give  us  great  pleasure  to  develop  the  argument  founded 
on  the  fact,  that  we  have  a  moral  nature,  which  itself  shows  that 
God  intended  us  to  be  under  a  moral  government ;  and  that  we 
have  frequent  occasions  for  the  present  exercise  of  this  moral 
nature,  which  proves  conclusively  that  we  are  at  present  under  his 


584  Butler'' s  Analogy  of  Religion.  [OctoTicr, 

moral  govcrnnicnf.  But  one  of  llic  most  conclusive  arguments, 
founded  upon  proof  everywhere  appearing,  is  that  which  proceeds 
upon  the  distinction  universally  made  between  the  natural  and 
moral  quality  of  every  voluntary  action  of  an  intelligent  being. 
The  natural  qualities  of  actions  arc  expressed  by  the  words,  right 
and  lorong:  their  moral  qualities  by  the  words,  virtuous  and  vicious. 
An  action  is  riglit  when  it  is  in  conformity  witli  the  relations  be- 
tween the  parties  :  it  is  wrong  when  in  violation  of  these  relations. 
An  action  is  virtuous  when  the  intention  is  good :  it  is  vicious 
wlicn  the  intention  is  bad.  It  follows  that  the  moral  quality  of  an 
action  resides  in  the  intention  :  and  an  action  may  be  right  natu- 
rally, yet  vicious,  owing  to  the  intention  being  bad.  An  action 
may  be  wrong  naturaUy,  and  yet  virtuous,  owing  to  the  intention 
being  good:  i.  e.,  an  action  may  be  wrong  and  virtuous,  or  right 
and  vicious,  at  tlic  same  time.  This  distinction  between  the 
natural  and  moral  quality  of  an  action  is  recognized  always  in 
the  udministralion  of  criminal  law.  If  a  man  by  accident  kill  his 
nciglibor,  the  natural  eflect  of  tlie  action  is  the  same  as  if  he  iiad 
done  it  willi  "  malice  aforctliouglit."  The  wife  of  tlie  unfortunate 
man  tlius  killed  is  made  a  widow,  and  his  children  orphans ;  and 
poverty  and  wretchedness  may  follow  and  overwhelm  them.  Yet 
neither  society  nor  law  liolds  llie  man  that  did  the  deed  morally 
responsible.  The  reason  is  obvious :  it  was  not  his  intention  to 
do  the  wrong.  Now  this  constant  respect  of  society  and  law  to 
the  distinction  between  the  natural  and  moral  qualities  of  actions, 
shows  clearly  the  present  existence  and  actual  operation  of  a  moral 
government,  such  as  religion  Icaclics  us  is  nowbegim  in  the  world, 
and  will  ultimately  lie  brought  to  perfection  in  a  future  state. 

The  fourth  and  fifth  chapters  discuss  the  most  important  and 
difficult  propositions  in  religion,  which  are  shown  to  be  exactly  in 
accordance  with  the  "constitution  and  course  of  nature."  The 
first  treats  "  Of  a  state  of  probation,  as  implying  trial,  difficulties, 
and  danger ;"  tlie  second,  "  Of  a  state  of  probation,  as  intended 
for  moral  discipline  and  improvement."  We  shall  conclude  this 
article,  as  far  as  analytical  discussion  is  concerned,  by  stating  and 
illustrating  the  ground  of  analogy  in  support  of  the  first  proposition; 
and  by  explaining  the  ti-ue  theory  of  temptation,  by  which  a  satis- 
factory answer  may  be  given  to  the  oft-repcatcd  question.  How 
could  our  Saviour  be  teynpted  ? 


1 84 1 .]  Butler's  Ayialo-i/  of  Religion.  5S5 

Tlie  ground  of  analogy  to  sustain  the  general  doctrine,  lliat  wo 
are  in  a  state  of  probation,  with  respect  to  our  future  happiness, 
iinpl_ving  trial,  difEculties,  and  danger,  is,  that  we  arc  in  a  like  state 
of  probation  with  respect  to  our  natural  good  in  this  present  life. 
This  is  a  matter  of  daily  experience  ;  and  the  analogy  is  close  and 
particular,  as  will  appeal-  from  the  following  paragraphs  : — 

"  The  general  doctrine  of  religion,  that  our  present  life  is  a  state  of 
probation  for  a  future  one,  comprehends  under  it  several  particular 
thiiir;s,  distinct  from  each  other.  But  the  first  and  most  conunon 
meaning  of  it  seems  to  be,  that  our  future  interest  is  now  depending, 
and  depending  upon  ourselves  ;  that  we  have  scope  and  opportunities 
here  for  that  good  and  bad  behavior,  which  God  will  reward  and 
punish  hereafter;  together  with  temptations  to  one,  as  well  as  induce- 
ments of  reason  to  the  other.  And  this  is,  in  great  measure,  the  same 
with  saying,  that  we  are  under  the  moral  government  of  God,  and  to 
give  an  account  of  our  actions  to  him.  For  the  notion  of  a  future 
account,  and  general  righteous  judgment,  implies  some  sort  of  tempta- 
tions to  what  is  wrong,  otherwise  there  would  be  no  moral  possiliihly 
of  doing  wrong,  nor  ground  for  judgment  or  discrimination.  But  there 
is  this  dificrence,  that  the  word  probation  is  more  distinctly  and  parti- 
culaily  expressive  of  allurements  to  wrong,  or  diiliculties  in  adhering 
uniformly  to  wlui)  ib  right,  and  of  tlic  danger  of  miscarrying  by  such 
temptations,  than  the  words  moral  goccrniiirnt.  A  state  of  probation, 
then,  as  tlnis  particularly  implying  in  it  trial,  difficulties,  and  danger, 
may  require  to  be  considered  distinctly  by  itself 

"  And  as  the  moral  government  of  God,  which  religion  teaches  us, 
implies  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  trial  with  regard  to  a  future  world  ; 
so  also  his  natural  government  over  ns  implies,  that  we  are  in  a  staic 
of  trial,  in  a  like  sense,  with  regard  to  the  present  world.  Natural 
government,  by  rewards  and  punishments,  as  much  implies  n;Uural 
trial,  as  moral  government  does  moral  trial.  The  natural  government 
of  God  here  meant,  consists  in  his  annexing  pleasure  to  some  actions, 
and  pain  to  others,  which  are  in  our  power  to  do  or  forbear,  and  in 
giving  us  notice  o(  such  appointment  beforehand.  Tins  necessurily 
implies,  lliat  he  has  made  our  happiness  and  misery,  or  our  iuteiesl, 
to  depend  in  part  upon  ourselves.  And  so  far  as  men  have  temptations 
to  an)'  course  of  action,  which  will  probably  occasion  thimi  greater 
temporal  inconvenience  and  uneasiness  than  satisfaction,  so  far  their 
temporal  interest  is  in  danger  from  diemselves,  or  they  arc  in  a  stale 
of  trial  with  respect  to  it.  Now,  people  often  blame  others,  and  even 
themselves,  lor  their  misconduct  in  their  temporal  c(jneerns.  And  we 
find  many  are  greatly  wanting  to  themselves,  and  nnss  of  that  natural 
happiness  which  they  might  have  obtained  in  the  present  life  ;  perhaps 
every  one  does  in  some  degree.  But  many  run  themscKos  into  LTcat 
inconvenience,  and  into  extreme  distress  and  misery,  not  tiiruu^h  in- 
capacity of  knowing  better,  and  doing  better  for  themselves,  which 
woidd  be  nothing  to  the  present  purpose,  but  through  their  own  fault. 
And  these  things  necessarily  imply  temptation,  and  danger  of  niiscar- 


5S6  Butler  s  Anahgy  of  Religion.  [Oclohcr, 

rying,  in  a  grcntcr  or  less  degree,  with  respect  to  our  worldly  intcrcbi 
or  lia|)piness.  Every  one,  too,  willioul  having  re!i;j;ion  in  liis  ihoiiuhis, 
speaks  ol"  the  hazards  which  young  people  run  iiiion  their  seuiny  out 
in  the  world;  hazards  from  tillu  r  causes,  than  merely  their  ignorance, 
and  unavoidable  accidents.  And  some  courses  of  vice,  at  least,  being 
contrary  to  men's  worldly  interest  or  good,  temptations  to  these  must 
at  the  same  time  be  temptations  to  forego  our  present  and  our  future 
interest.  Thus,  in  our  natural  or  temporal  capacity,  we  are  in  a  state 
of  trial,  i.  e.,  of  diiliculty  and  danger,  analogous  or  like  to  our  moral 
and  religious  trial.'' — Pp.  160,  161. 

Tims  \vc  sec  clearly,  lliat  tlic  stale  of  trial  which  religion  teaches 
us  we  arc  in,  is  rendered  credible  by  its  being  ihroughout  uniform 
and  of  a  piece  with  the  general  conduct  of  Providence  toward  us, 
in  all  other  respects  withm  the  compass  of  our  knowledge.  Nor 
have  we  any  just  ground  of  complaint  against  Providence  for 
placing  us  in  this  state  of  trial  and  danger.  For,  as  we  may 
manage  our  temporal  aflairs  with  prudence,  and  so  pass  our  days 
here  on  earth  in  tolerable  ease  and  satisfaction,-  by  a  moderate 
degree  of  care,  so,  likewise,  with  regard  to  religion,  there  is  no 
more  required  than  what  we  are  well  able  to  do,  and  what  we 
must  be  greatly  wanting  to  ourselves  if  we  neglect.  In  order, 
ihercfore,  that  we  may  well  perform  our  duty  in  this  state  of  jiro- 
bation  and  danger,  it  is  very  important  that  we  fully  understand  the 
nature  of  temptation. 

Temptation  is  a  sensible  impulse  or  solicitation  to  do  some  evil  act. 
The  natural  history  of  it  is  suggested  by  the  passage  from  Origcn, 
which  Dr.  Butler  placed  in  his  title  page,  and  which  tnay  be  trans- 
lated in  the  words  of  the  son  of  Sirach,  Eccl.  xlii,  24  :  "  All  things 
are  Juithle  one  against  another,  and  God  hath  made  nothing  imper- 
fect." This  observation  is  the  foundation  of  Dr.  Butler's  moral  sys- 
tem, and  of  his  Analogy;  and  from  these  Dr.  Wayland  has  drawn  the 
fundamental  principle  of  his  moral  philosophy,  which  lie  has  expressed 
tlius : — "  There  is  a  world  within  us,  and  a  world  without  us."  Tliis 
world  within  us  comprehends  those  powers  in  our  constitution  which 
are  ca])al)lc  of  receiving  impressions  from  their  corresponding  extrr- 
nril  olijei  ts,  which  objects  constitute  the  world  without  us.  Each  in- 
ternal power  in  our  constitution  has  its  corresponding  external  object 
which  God  has  appointed  as  its  naturak  excitant,  and  which  has 
power  to  excite  it  imJcpcnclcni  of  our  will.  The  exciting  power 
of  each  external  object  has  reference  only  to  its  own  corresponding 
internal  function.     The  excitable  functions  or  powers  in  our  con- 


IS'll.]  Butler's  Anahgij  of  Religion.  587 

slitution  may  be  dlviiled  iiilo  two  classes ;  tlic  appetites,  wliicli 
have  tlicir  origin  in  the  llosh ;  and  the  passions,  which  originate  in 
llie  mind  itself.  Tlicse  appetites  and  passions,  which  are  essential 
pai-ls  of  the  constitution  of  ever)'  sound  and  liealthy  person,  arc,  in 
theinsolvcs,  simply  considered  as  pon;ers  existing;  neither  vicious 
nor  virtuous  ;  nor  do  the  external  objects  which  severally  corre- 
spond to  them,  simply  considered  as  objects  existing  with  the 
natural  power  to  excite  them,  partahc  of  the  nature  either  of  vice 
or  virtue.  When,  under  proper  conditions,  the  external  exciting 
object  is  presented,  its  corresponding  appetite  or  passion  is  neces- 
sarily excited,  and  tends  to  seek  gratification.  This  involuntary 
and  necessary  excitement,  wh.ich  tends  to  seek  its  gratification,  is 
called  lust;  and  properly  constitutes  temptation. 

The  existence  of  this  excitement,  and  the  consciousness  of  its 
tendency  to  seek  to  be  gratified,  is  not  sin,  nor  of  the  nature  c>f 
sin.  Yet  it  is  admitted  to  contain  the  preliminary  conditions  which 
may  lead  to  sin.  It  is,  therefore,  the  office  of  virtue  and  religion 
either  to  restrain  altogether  from  indulgence,  where  indulgence  is 
unlawful,  or  to  restrain  within  proper  limits,  where  indulgence  is 
lawful. 

Virtue  exerts  this  restraining  influence  in  matters  of  morals 
considered  in  reference  to  society ;  and  religion,  which  compre- 
hends virtue,  exerts  it  further  in  matters  of  duty  considered  with 
reference  to  God  and  a  future  life. 

This  theorjr  of  temptation,  which  develops  its  natural  history,  is 
founded  upon  the  experience  of  mankind  ;  and  is  confirmed  by  the 
observation  of  the  son  of  Sirach  quoted  above ;  and  also  by  the 
proverb  of  Solomon,  "  Can  a  man  take  fire  into  his  bosom,  and  liis 
clothes  not  be  burned?"  That  is,  such  is  the  relation  between  fire 
and  clothes,  that  if  they  come  in  contact  the  clothes  must  burn. 
So,  if  any  appetite  or  passion  be  addressed  by  its  appropriate  ex- 
ternal excitant,  it  must  he  excited.  But  the  excitement,  or  the  lust 
in  this  sense,  is  not  sin,  nor  of  the  nature  of  sin ;  but  the  yielding 
to  the  excitement  where  indulgence  is  unlawful,  or  yielding  to  an 
unlawful  extent,  where  indulgence  is  lawful,  this  constitutes  sin. 

This  whole  theory  is  suggested  and  explained  in  a  passage  of 
St.  .Tames  i,  14.  ]5,  "  But  every  man  is  tempted,  when  lie  is  drawn 
away  of  his  own  lust,  and  enticed."  Here  the  excitement  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  word  "  lust :"  the  tendency  of  this   excitement   to 


588  Butler's  Analog!/  of  Religion.  [October, 

seek  gratification  b}'  the  words,  "drawn  away,  and  enticed,"  vcr. 

14.  "Then  when  hist  hath  conceived  it  bringcth  forth  sin,"  vcr. 

15.  Here  the  gratification  of  tlie  excitement  is  expressed  by  tlie 
word  "  conceived."  Let  it  then  be  particularly  observed,  that  tlic 
excitement,  and  the  tendency  of  the  excitement  to  gratification, 
must  precede  sin.  The  transition  from  tlie  temptation  to  sin  is  ex- 
pressed by  the  word  "conceived,"  which  implies  volition.  Tiic 
final  and  unerring  test  of  sin,  then,  is,  not  the  existence  of  the 
temptation,  bat  the  consent  of  the  will.  Whenever  this  consent  is 
given  in  anj'  degree,  then  sin  commences,  and  the  extent  of  tlie 
consent  is  the  measure  of  the  degree  of  sin.  Wlien  wc  feel  the 
temptation,  if  we  consent  to  prolong  the  excitement,  or  if  it  be  in 
our  power  to  allay  it,  or  to  escape  from  it,  and  we  refuse  to  do  il,  tiicn 
we  begin  to  sin ;  for  the  voluntarj-  continuance  of  the  excitement 
partakes  of  the  nature  of  gratification,  in  which  sin  properly  consists. 

Tlic  practical  uses  of  this  theorj'  of  temptation  are :  1 .  It  shows 
us  the  duty  of  avoiding  all  occasions  of  temptation,  so  that  we  fall 
not  under  dangerous  excitement.  2.  If,  as  is  frequently  tlie  case 
with  every  human  being,  we  unavoidably  become  tlie  subjects  of 
temptation,  let  us  resist  steadily,  that  it  may  not  "  conceive,"  and 
bring  forth  sin.  For  wc  may  be  "tempted  in  all  j)nints,  yet  with- 
out sin." 

Tins  theory  will  clearly  explain, — 1.  How  a  Christian,  after 
conversion,  may  be  the  subject  of  the  natural  excitement  of  the 
passions  and  appetites,  as  he  was  before  his  conversion.  Because 
conversion  does  not  destroy  these  natural  functions  in  our  consti- 
tution ;  nor  docs  it  destroy  the  power  of  tlieir  corresponding  exter- 
nal objects  which  naturally,  and  therefore  necessarily,  excite  them 
when  brought  into  contact.  Young  and  inexperienced  Christians 
;5hould  carefully  understand  this.  For  many  have  fallen  into  doubts, 
and  finally  cast  away  their  confidence,  upon  finding,  sliortly  after 
ttieir  conversion,  that  their  passions  and  appetites  were  as  naturally 
susceptible  of  excitement  as  before.  Our  duty  is  to  resist  the 
tcmi)talion  until  it  depart  from  us.  2.  It  will  explain  how  our 
first  parents  came  to  fall.  In  their  innocency  in  Eden  tlicy  had  in 
their  natural  constitutions  those  appetites  and  passions  wliich  are 
inseparable  parts  of  our  natural  constitutions.  They  were  subject 
to  the  influence  of  the  external  objects  which  were  llic  natural  ex- 
citants of  their  appetites  and  passions,  as  they  are  now  of  ours.    Of 


1841.]  Butler's  Analogy  of  Religion.  589 

course,  llicy  were  subject  lo  temptation  in  the  same  way  that  we 
arc ;  and  if  tliey  yielded,  the  result  would  be  the  same  as  if  we 
yield ;  viz.,  sin.  The  diftcrence  between  them  and  us  is,  they 
were  naturalhj  able  to  stand  against  any  possible  temptation ;  we 
arc  wholly  unable  by  nature,  and  cannot  become  able  except  by 
grace.  If  we  will  examine  the  history  of  the  fall  we  shall  see  that 
it  was  a  case  of  temptation  on  the  ordinary  principle  explained 
above.  Gen.  iii,  6 :  "  And  when  the  woman  saiv  tliat  the  tree  was 
good  for  food,  and  that  it  was  pleasant  to  the  eyes,  and  a  tree  to 
be  desired  to  make  one  wise,"  (here  is  excitement,)  "  she  took  of 
the  fruit  thereof,  and  did  eat," — here  is  consent  and  indulgence, 
whicii  were  forbidden,  and  the  result  was,  of  course,  sin.  The 
case  of  Adam  was  the  same  :  "  and  gave  also  unto  her  husband, 
and  he  did  eat."  3.  This  theor}'  contains  also  the  answer  to  the 
ciuestion.  How  could  ouj-  Savio2tr  be  tempted  1  The  answer  is 
this  :  The  Scriptmes  everywhere  declare  that  our  Lord  took  upon 
him  our  nature :  not  a  part  of  our  nature,  but  hurnanity  as  a 
ivholc.  This  doctrine  is  clearly  expressed  in  the  second  article  of 
the  Church  of  England,  which  is  received  by  all  churches  em- 
bracing that  of  the  trinity,  which  says,  speaking  of  the  incanialion, 
lie  "took  man's  nature  in  the  womb  of  the  blessed  virgin  ;  so  that 
two  whole  and  perfect  natures,  that  is  to  say,  the  Godhead  and 
manhood,  were  joined  together  in  one  person,  never  to  he  divided, 
whereof  is  one  Christ,  very  God,  and  very  man."  The  expressions, 
"  man's  nature — manhood — very  man,"  surel)'-  comprehend  the 
whole  of  humanity,  and  include  our  natural  appetites  and  passions. 
Of  course  our  Saviour  possessed  these  naturally,  as  we  do,  and 
the)-  were  as  naturally  capahle  of  excitement  in  him  by  their  ap- 
propriate coresponding  external  objects,  as  in  us.  Hence  it  is  said, 
"  he  was  tempted  in  all  points  as  we  are  :"  it  is  added,  "  yet  with- 
out sin."  He  did  not  in  any  instance,  nor  in  the  .slightest  degree, 
consent  to  the  temptation,  but  always  said,  "  Get  ihce  behind  me, 
Satan." 

There  are  two  other  sources  of  temptation  which  depend  upon 
this  principal  original  source.  1.  Reflection  upon  ideas  and 
images,  which  have  been  previously  introduced  into  the  mind,  by 
which  the  imagination  is  excited  ;  and  by  this  means  the  appetites 
and  passions  are  aroused.  In  this  case  the  excitement  is  of  tiie 
same  nature  as  that  produced  l)y  the  presence  of  the  external  ob- 


590  Butler's  Analogy  of  Rdigion.  [Oclober, 

ject,  and  tends  to  seek  gratification.  This  is  as  really  a  state  of 
temptation  as  any  we  liavc  discussed.  If  we  consent  to  this  ex- 
citement, or  consent  to  prolong  it,  we  commit  sin.  So  also  if  we 
go  in  search  of  objects  for  its  giatification.  This  completes  tlie 
sin  in  the  heart,  and  all  that  is  wanthig  to  consummate  the  act  is, 
the  opportunity  of  indulgence. 

2.  Satanic  suggestion.  There  can  be  no  doubt  but  Satan  lias 
the  power  to  recall  to  our  minds  some,  if  not  all  of  those  ideas  and 
images  which  we  have  received  from  external  temptation,  and  thus 
to  awaken  our  passions  and  to  excite  om-  appetites,  which  state  of 
excitement,  as  has  already  been  noted,  constitutes  temptation. 
And  it  ought  to  be  distinctly  remembered  that  he  has  no  other 
means  of  tempting  vs.  It  is  probable  he  has  a  dreadful  power  of 
prolonging  the  agitation  of  the  mind,  by  constraining  it  to  continue 
its  reflections  and  imaginings.  But  liowever  horrible,  or  oflcnsivc, 
or  impure  they  may  be,  liowever  violent  the  excitement,  yet  there 
is  no  sin  unless  vje  consent.  Wc  may  suffer  much,  and  be  "  in 
Jieavir^ess  through  manifold  temptations  ;"  (St.  Peter;)  yet  unless 
we  consent  either  to  prolong  the  excitement,  or  to  indulge  it,  we 
are  "without  sin." 

Let  not  the  reader  be  alarmed  at  this  simple  and  natural  solution 
of  the  question,  touching  our  Saviour,  whicli  he  has  trembled  to 
examine.  In  the  experience  of  mortals,  temptation  and  sin  are  so 
closely  allied,  that  we  seem  to  ourselves  to  have  charged  our  Sa- 
viour with  sin,  when  we  admit  he  was  tempted.  But  we  cannot 
reject  the  fact ;  for  the  Scriptures  afiirm  it,  and  give  this  most 
consolator}'  and  encouraging  of  all  reasons  for  it,  tliat  he  might  be 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infiririity,  and  thus  be  prepared  to  be  a 
"  merciful  and  faithful  high  priest,"  and  be  "  able  to  succor  them 
that  arc  tempted."  No  :  instead  of  casting  a  sliade  over  the  tran- 
scendent majesty  and  glory  of  the  Redeemer's  character,  this  ex- 
planation throws  a  flood  of  light  and  hope  into  this  miserable  world 
of  temptation  and  trial,  and  directs  its  agitated  and  dismayed  inha- 
bitants to  look  to  "  another  and  a  belter  countr}',"  where  the  func- 
tions and  power  of  our  constitution,  and  the  external  world  around 
lo  excite  them,  sliall  all  tend  inevitably  to  virtue  and  ha]i])incss ; 
for  we,  says  Peter,  "  look  for  a  ncio  heaven  and  a  nciu  earth  jchcrcin 
(hvcllelh  rightcoi/snrss." 

We  have   thus   endeavored  to  give  the  reader  a  tolerably  clear 


1811.]  Life  of  Sir  Humph  y  Davy.  591 

impression  of  one  of  tlic  bcsl  books  in  tlie  English  language  ;  pre- 
senting liim  with  a  few  specimens  of  the  arguments  and  illustra- 
tions, by  which  he  may  learn  what  he  has  to  expect  from  a  thorough 
study  of  the  work.  The  theory  of  temptation  with  which  wo  have 
concluded  our  review  of  the  book,  is  not  found  in  form,  or  the  ele- 
ments of  it  expanded  ;  but  the  foundation  principle  is  there,  and 
so,  on  almost  every  page,  there  is  a  principle  laid  down,  a  propo- 
sition or  a  reflection  given,  which  might  be  expanded  with  much 
profit  into  an  essay,  or  even  a  volume.  Our  book  agents,  in  our 
judgment,  could  not  do  a  greater  service  to  our  ministers,  than  to 
publish  a  good  edition  of  Butler's  Analogy,  with  an  introduction 
containing  an  analysis  of  each  chapter. 
Dickinson  College,  April,  1841. 


Art.  Y.—  The.  Life  of  Sir  Hwnphry  Davy,  Bart.,  LL.D.,  late 
President  of  the  Royal  Society,  Foreign  Associate  of  tl/c  Royal 
Listitulc  of  France,  <^-c.,  <^c.  By  Johx  AyktoiX  Paris,  M.D., 
&c..  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Colles;e  of  Physicians.  In  two  vols., 
8vo.,  pp.  416  and  4G3.     London.  1831. 

It  has  been  afiirraed,  in  substance,  that  Sir  H.  Da-\y  was  to 
chimistr}'  what  Newton  was  to  the  sister  science  of  astronomy ;  but 
whhholding,  at  present,  our  assent  to  so  high  a  eulogium,  we  cer- 
tainly shall  most  freely  concede  to  him  a  very  liigh  place  on  the 
list  of  distinguished,  scientific  men.  One  writer  would  indeed  seem 
to  place  his  name  even  above  that  of  Newton.     Says  he, — 

"■\\'liGn  Newton  established  the  law  of  gravitation,  and  applied  it  to 
the  planetary  molioiis,  lie  but  completed  the  labors  of  a  previous  age. 
Had  not  inisfovtune  and  the  apnthy  of  princes  chilled  the  ardor  of 
Kepler,  lie  mic;ht  have  anticipated  him  in  the  discovery  ;  and  Ilooke, 
and  Hallcy,  and  ^^'rpn,  were  within  a  neck  of  the  goal  at  which  Newton 
carried  ofl"  the  prize.  Trained  at  the  foot  of  liarrow,  and  in  the  geo- 
metry of  Cainbridgo,  and  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  academical  leisure, 
Newton  was  well  equipped  for  the  eoutcsi,  while  his  less  prepared 
antagonists  run  in  the  harness  of  professional  occupations.  In  the 
achievement,  indeed,  of  his  grand  discover)-,  M-e  witness  the  triumph 
of  fortune  as  mcII  as  of  talent ;  and  it  is  not  detracting  from  his  liigh 
merits  when  we  say,  tliat  had  he  lived  in  another  age,  Newton  would 
have  had  many  equals. 

"  Sir  H.  Davy's  successful  analysis  of  the  earths  is  inferior  to  the 
discovery  of  universal  gravitation  only  in  its  influence  over  the  imagi- 
nation.    To  separate,  without  the  aid  of  the  crucible,  new  metals  of 


592  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [Octuber, 

rare  and  surprisinrj  properties  from  the  earths  and  alknlios  which  \vc 
tread  under  our  ffcf — IVom  lime,  uias'iiesia,  soda,  barytcs,  &c. — was  a 
discovery  greatly  in  advaiu-c  of  tlic  agu  in  which  it  was  rnudc.  No 
proplictic  sagacity  had  placed  it  among  tho  probabilities  of  science. 
No  previous  skill  had  made  the  slightest  approximaliuii  to  it.  *  *  ' 
Nor  had  Davy  the  preparation  cither  of  acadendcal  knowledge,  or  of 
experimental  instruction.  No  adept  in  chimical  analysis  had  imparted 
to  him  the  wisdom  of  his  experience;  nor  had  the  treasures  of  a  foreiyn 
pilgrimage  placed  him  above  his  rivals  in  discovery.  Ijis  methods  and 
his  skill  v.'ere  his  own,  and  whatever  were  their  defects,  they  were 
supplied  by  a  ready  genius  and  an  inlelleclual  energy  which  triumphed 
over  every  obstacle."* 

One  would  suppose,  from  the  flippant  manner  in  whicli  this 
writer  speaks  of  Newton,  and  his  important,  indeed,  but,  if  we  are 
lo  believe  him,  not  sticli  very  astounding  discoveries,  titat,  had  this 
great  man  been  liis  contemporary,  he  should  himself  almost  expect 
to  be  his  equal ;  at  least,  he  miglit  hope  that  Dame  Fortimc  would, 
in  some  way,  make  up  to  him  whatever  he  might  lack  in  brains  ! 

But  we  iind  a  sufficient  reply  to  this  writer's  remarks  in  the 
honest  admissions  of  the  author  of  the  work  before  us. 

"  It  is  impossible,"  says  Dr.  Paris,  "to  reflect  upon  the  chimical 
processes  by  which  potassium  is  obtained,  Vi-ithout  feeling  surprised  that 
the  discovery  should  not  have  long  before  been  accoinplislni].  It  is 
evident,  that  the  substance  must  have  been  repeatedly  dcvidopcd  during 
the  operations  of  chimistry  ;  alkalies  had  been  iVcqucnily  healed  to 
whiteness  in  contact  both  with  iron  and  charcoal,t  and,  in  some  in- 
stances, the  appearance  of  a  highly  combustible  body,  which  could  ha\  e 
been  no  other  than  jiotassium,  had  even  been  observed  as  a  result  of 
the  process  ;  and  yet  no  suspicion  as  to  its  real  nature  ever  crossed  the 
mind  of  the  exjierimentalist ;  ho  satislled  himself  with  designating  sucli 
a  product  whenever  it  occurred,  by  the  term  pyrophorus.\  I  reinembor 
the  late  Mr.  William  Gregor  informing  mo  that,  in  the  course  of  his 
analytical  experiments  with  potash  and  diflerent  metals,  he  had  re- 
peatedly observed  a  combustion  on  removing  the  crucible  from  the 
furnace,  and  exposing  the  contents,  which  he  could  never  understand.'' 
Voh  i,  p.  282. 

*  Edinburgh  Review,  No.  cxxvii,  p.  53.     (American  reprint.)  . 

•f  Potassiuin  is  now  prepared  by  heating  potassa  in  contact  with  powdered 
charcoal  and  iron  turnings. 

X  Honiberg's  pyropborus,  which  receives  its  name  from  its  discoverer,  was 
described  as  early  as  1711.  It  is  prepared  by  making  a  mixture  of  cliarcoal^ 
or  some  substance  that  contains  it,  as  flour,  sugar,  gum,  Ac,  and  alum  ;  and,  after 
drying  it  thoroughly,  exposing  it  in  a  close  vessel  for  some  time  to  a  red  heal ; 
and  owes  its  peculiar  property  of  igniting  spontaneously,  when  cxpo.sed  to  the 
atmosphere,  to  tho  potassium  that  is  liberated  by  the  process  of  preparing  it. 


1841.]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Dainj.  593 

If,  llicrcforc,  Davy,  as  well  as  Newton,  is  justly  entitled  to  the 
lionor  of  having  made  llic  discovery  of  countries,  before  quite  un- 
lulow^l,  it  is  certainly  true  that  others  before  him  had  sailed  along 
the  same  coast,  and  were  prevented  from  making  the  discovery 
only  by  the  fog  and  mists  which  intercepted  their  view.  There  is 
a  great  analogy,  in  one  respect,  between  the  discoveries  made  by 
navigators  and  travelers  of  new  countries,  and  discoveries  in  science. 
The  "  world"  of  the  ancient  Romans  has  been  gradually  enlarged 
by  successive  adventurers,  each  one  pushing  his  discoveries  a  little, 
and,  as  a  general  thing,  but  a  little,  beyond  those  of  his  prede- 
cessors, until  we  have  reason  to  believe  the  oceans,  continents, 
seas,  islands,  mountains,  &c.,  of  our  planet  arc  tolerably  well 
known  ;  and  history  records  the  name  of  but  one  Coluu^bus,  who 
possessed  the  daring  genius  and  mighty  energy  required  at  once  to 
project  and  execute  a  voyage  across  a  wide,  and,  so  far  as  was  then 
known,  boundless  ocean.  So  it  has  been  in  science.  One  after 
another  has  added  more  or  less  to  our  knowledge  of  material  nature  ; 
and  if,  in  a  few  instances,  individuals  have  made  apparcnll)'  largo 
advances  in  discovery  beyond  their  contemporaries,  it  has  generally 
been  afterward  fomid,  that  others  before  them  had  unconsciously 
to  themselves  been  on  the  point  of  making  the  same  advance.  So 
it  was  with  Newton,  so  it  was  with  Dalton  in  his  discovery  of  the 
laws  of  chimical  combination,  and  so  it  was  with  Dav)-,  as  we  have 
just  seen.  Nor  does  this  essentially  detract  from  their  merits  as 
original  discoverers.  True,  fortune  may  seem  to  have  favored 
these  individuals  ;  but  why  did  the  apparently  trifling  circumstances, 
which  seem  to  have  made  llie  important  suggestion  to  them,  make 
the  revelation  to  them  only?  Thousands  had  seen  chandeliers 
swinging  in  cluirchcs  arid  other  places  before  the  time  of  Galileo, 
but  to  his  observing  mind  alone  did  it  suggest  the  use  of  the  pen- 
dulum as  a  measurer  of  time  ;  and  apples  had  been  seen  to  fall  to 
the  gTOund  by  the  force  of  gravity  thousands  of  year's  before  New- 
ton's day,  but  it  required  his  own  careful  observation  and  mighty 
intellect  to  perceive,  in  so  trifling  an  incident,  the  hitherto  unknown 
cause  of  motion  in  the  stupendous  machinery  of  the  universe.  To 
Newton,  in  our  opinion,  above  all  others,  belongs  the  honor  of  being 
considered  the  Columbus  in  scientific  discovery.  And,  in  assign- 
ing him  this  place,  we  do  not  have  reference  merely  to  his  discovery 
of  the  law  of  universal  gravitation,  but  to  other  achievements  of  his, 


594  Life  of  Sir  Ilumpliry  Davy.  [Oclolicr. 

which  arc  less  brilhant,  perhaps,  but  scarce!}'  less  important.  No 
otiicr  individual,  probably,  either  before  or  since  his  day,  ever  pos- 
sessed a  mind  of  such  ponderous  and  yet  delicate  maciu'ncr}' ;  no 
other  one  ever  made  such  large  additions  to  the  sum  total  of  human 
knowledge,  or  enlarged  so  widely  the  circle  of  human  thought. 

Bui  in  thus  vindicating  the  just  fame  of  the  hitherto  matchless 
Kcwton,  we  mean  no  disparagement  to  the  distinguished  individual 
whose  interesting  memoir  has  given  occasion  for  this  article.  His 
fame  rests  upon  a  foundation  that  cannot  be  shaken.  We  have 
already  conceded  to  his  name  a  high  place  among  those  of  the 
greatest  men  of  science  the  world  has  produced,  but  its  precise 
position  on  the  list  we  sliall  not  attempt  to  designate. 

Tiie  author  of  this  "  Life  of  Sir  IT.  Davy,"  Dr.  Paris,  was  an 
intimate  friend  of  Davy,  and  his  ardent  admirer  ;  but  there  is  every 
reason  to  believe  his  diflicult  task  has  been  executed  with  the  utmost 
fidelity.  Having  been  favored  by  the  surviving  widow  of  Sir 
Humphry,  and  most  of  his  correspondents,  as  well  as  his  early 
friends,  with  all  the  information  they  were  able  to  communicate 
concerning  him,  it  is  beheved  the  two  volumes  before  us  afford  a 
very  correct  portraiture  of  his  character ;  though  we  would  not 
conceal  the  fact  that  Dav)''s  only  brother,  Dr.  John  Davy,  was  not 
pleased  with  it,  and  subsequently  published  another  memoir  in  two 
volumes,  in  which  he  controverts  many  of  Dr.  P.'s  statements. 
This  work  we  have  not  had  an  opportunity  critically  to  examine, 
and  shall  not,  therefore,  remark  further  concerning  it.*  After 
making  considerable  inquiry,  we  are  irresistibly  brought  to  tljc 
conclusion  that  the  chief  fault  with  Dr.  P.'s  work  is  its  great  truth 
to  the  original.  The  doctor,  though  an  admirer  of  his  hero,  did 
not,  perhaps,  possess  so  good  a  faculty  as  some  biographers  of 
smoothing  over  his  faults,  and  describing  offensive  traits  of  cha- 
racter in  such  a  peculiar  manner,  that,  while  he  tells  substantial 
truth,  a  decidedly  false  iinjiression  is  made  on  the  mind  of  the 
reader.  But  for  this  we  should  rather  commend  than  censure  his 
work.  We  do  not  indeed  object  to  eulogy  when  given  to  us  as 
such,  but  in  a  professed    memoir  we  wish  for  plain  truth — for 

*  A  new  edition  of  tlio  work,  somcwliat  aliridgcd  we  believe,  has  been  pub- 
lished in  London  during  the  past  year,  in  conneetion  with  a  complete  edition 
of  Sir  n.  Davy's  works  in  nine  volumes.  Tlie.  memoir  occupies  the  first 
volume. 


1841.]  Life  of  Sir  Ilumpliry  Davy.  595 

truth  in  itself,  and  trulli  told  iu  such  a  m.-nncr  tis  to  produce  a  true 
impression. 

But  il  is  not  so  much  our  purpose  to  discuss  the  merits  of  this 
work  as  a  specimen  of  biographical  composition,  as  it  is  to  give 
some  account  of  the  illustrious  individual  whose  character  it 
portrays. 

Sir  Humphry  Davy  was  born  at  Penzance  in  Cornwall, 
December  17,  1778.  His  father  was  a  respectable  carver  in  wood, 
and  his  mother  a  daughter  of  a  mercer  in  Penzance  by  the  name 
of  ]\Ii!!ot.  His  father  died  in  1794,  just  as  his  son  completed  his 
sixteenth  year  ;  but  his  mother  lived  to  witness  nearly  the  whole  of 
his  comparatively  short,  but  most  brilliant  career,  having  died  but  a 
few  years  before  him.  There  is  probably  scarcely  an  instance  of 
an  individual's  rising  from  obscurity  to  -eminence,  Avidiout  his 
friends  being  able  aflcrioard  to  find  in  his  early  history  abundant 
indications  of  his  future  greatness ;  and  so  it  is  in  the  case  of 
Davy.  In  reality,  however,  at  a  veiy  early  age  he  seems  to  have 
possessed  a  retentive  memory,  and  a  great  fondness  for  novelty  and 
romance,  and  was  always  ready  to  engage  in  any  undertaking  to 
gratify  this  propensity.  He  also  possessed  a  peculiar  boldness, 
not  of  that  character,  indeed,  which  is  offensive,  but  which  seems 
to  have  had  much  to  do  in  making  him  the  leader  in  the  various 
enterprises  in  which  he  engaged  with  his  fellows.  At  one  time  he 
is  a  writer  of  poetrv,  and  is  the  "  poet  laureate  of  the  circle  ;"  and 
at  another  he  is  the  chimiist  preparing  his  "  thunder  powder,"  and 
exhibiting  for  a  few  pins  his  various  chimical  experiments  to  ad- 
miring spectators !  But  above  all  other  sports  he  delighted  in 
fishing,  in  which  he  was  always  unusually  successful  for  0)ic  of  liis 
age — a  peculiarity  that  followed  him  quite  to  the  "  verge  of  life." 
Indeed,  so  excessively  fond  was  lie  of  this  amusement,  that  during 
life,  it  is  said,  he  often  made  long  journeys,  which  in  one  or  two 
instances  extended  even  to  two  or  three  hundred  miles,  merely  for 
the  sake  of  enjoying  a  day's  fishing  in  some  celebrated  place. 

An  imusual  quickness  of  perception  very  early  manifested  itself 
in  him,  and  when  a  mere  boy  he  would  "  take  the  hint"  from 
slight  circumstances  that  would  be  passed  by  entirely  mihecdcd  by 
the  ordinary-  mind.  A  single  instance  will  serve  as  an  illustration. 
When  a  mere  boy  he  was  accustomed  to  fish  at  Penzance  pier,  in 
his  neighborhood,  for  a  particular  fish  that  was  difficult  to  hook  on 


696  Life  of  Sir  Ihunphry  Davy.  [October, 

accouiil  of  the  smallncss  of  its  mouth.  But  observing  that  llicsc 
fislics  always  swam  in  shoals,  he  attached  several  hooks  to  his 
line,  one  above  another,  extending  from  the  surface  of  the  water 
quite  to  the  bottom,  and  fixed  pieces  of  bait  at  several  places 
among  them.  Then,  as  the  fishes  were  swimming  about  his  hook, 
and  without  waiting  for  them  to  get  hold  with  the  mouth,  by  a 
sudden  pull  of  the  line  he  would  often  secure  several  at  a  lime, 
when  others  were  exerting  themselves  in  the  usual  manner  in 
vain. 

Davy's  early  advantages  for  obtaining  an  education  were  not 
great,  but  very  respectable.  At  an  early  period  he  was  admitted 
to  the  grammar  scliool  of  his  native  place,  and  when  he  was  about 
fifteen  he  spent  a  year  in  school  at  Truro  under  Dr.  Cardew,  a 
gentleman  distinguished  for  the  number  of  eminent  scholars  wliose 
education  he  superintended,  and  who  survived  his  illustrious  pupil. 
While  at  school,  it  is  said  he  was  more  distinguished  for  original 
talent  than  for  assiduous  application  ;  with  a  genius  for  any  thing, 
he  could  apply  himself  to  nothing,  or  rather,  at  times,  to  every 
thing  !  With  the  study  of  the  classics  he  was  never  pleased  ;  and, 
as  he  admitted  in  after-life,  much  of  his  time  was  spent  in  idleness. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen  ho  quitted  school ;  and  a  few  months  after- 
ward iiis  father  was  removed  from  him  by  death.  This  afflictive 
event  produced  a  lasting  impression  upon  his  mind,  and  seems  to 
have  led  to  a  renewal  of  former  good  purposes  that  had  well-nigh 
yielded  to  the  many  alkirements  to  vice  with  which,  at  this  critical 
period,  he  was  surrounded.  He  became  more  settled  in  his  views 
and  plans  ;  and  having  selected  medicine  as  his  profession,  he  was 
apprenticed  by  his  mother,  in  February,  1795,  to  an  apothecary  of 
his  native  town  by  the  name  of  Borlase,  who  afterward  became  an 
eminent  physician. 

Having  entered  upon  the  study  of  his  profession,  his  characteris- 
tic ardor  at  once  manifested  itself  in  the  thorough  and  extensive 
course  of  study  which  he  marked  out  for  himself  Says  a  writer,* 
"  it  embraced  seven  languages,  from  English  to  Hebrew,  and  all 
the  physical  and  moral  sciences,  from  theology  and  astronomy 
down  to  rhetoric  and  mechanics.  He  committed  to  wTiting  his 
views  on  these  subjects  ;  and  speculations  on  religion  and  politics — 

•  Edinburgh  ReWew,  No.  LXIII,  p.  GO,  Amer.  edition. 


1 81 1 .]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  5'J7 

on  inclajiliysics  and  morals — arc  i)laccd  in  his  note-books  in  juxta- 
position Willi  strinzas  of  poetry  and  fragments  of  romance."  But, 
like  other  brilliant  geniuses  ■vvlio  have  lived  in  other  ages  and 
coimtries,  he  was  far  from  being  distinguished  for  perseverance. 
Whatever  he  undertook  he  commenced  upon  with  enthusiasm,  but 
the  fire  was  too  intense  to  be  lasting.  This  w^as,  indeed,  the  case 
through  life.  If  a  good  degree  of  success  attended  an  effort  al 
once,  there  never  was  ardor  manifested  hke  his.  P^ood,  and  drink, 
and  sleep,  were  often  forgotten  or  neglected  while  pursuing,  with 
all  tlie  energy  of  his  soul,  some  favorite  investigation.  But  if  un- 
successful in  an  elfort,  his  spirits  soon  failed,  or  some  other  more 
interesting  object  of  pursuit  presented  itself,  which,  once  com- 
menced upon,  was  perhaps,  for  the  same  reason,  as  soon  relin- 
quished for  something  else.  Hence,  among  his  splendid  disco- 
veries ho  also  made  some  splendid  failures,  to  which  we  may 
allude  more  ])anicu]arly  hereafter.  But  it  should  be  remembered, 
that  though  he  always  carried  his  point  by  storm,  if  he  carried  it 
at  all,  no  one  ever  showed  a  genius  superior  to  his  in  planning  his 
attacks.  If  the  fortress  of  tlie  enemy  perfectly  withstood  the  fury 
of  the  first  onset,  generally  there  was  little  danger  of  further  hosti- 
lities ;  but  if  a  decided  impression  had  been  made — if  the  walls 
were  inclined  to  yield — but  some  change  only^  in  the  mode  of  attack 
was  required  to  insure  success — some  modification  of  his  plan — 
his  keen  eye  saw  it  all  at  a  glance,  his  courage  and  energy  became 
instantly  redoubled,  and  he  pushed  forward  his  enterprise  with 
irresistible  impetuosity  to  complete  victory! 

During  a  fevv  of  the  first  years  of  his  apprenticeship,  our  subject 
does  not  seem  to  have  accomplished  much.  He  was  loo  fond  of 
novelty  lo  submit  tamely  to  the  drudgery  of  his  oiEce,  and  too 
ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  to  limit  himself  to  what  be- 
longed properly  to  liis  profession.  Instead  of  attending  to  his  ap- 
propriate duties,  he  was  performing  experiments  for  liis  own  grati- 
fication, and  was,  without  question,  acquiring  many  useful  ideas, 
though  he  failed  lo  give  perfect  satisfaction  to  his  master. 

Even  al  this  early  period  a  strong  love  of  fame  seems  to  have 
been  fixed  in  his  heart.  "  How  often,  when  a  boy,"  said  he  once, 
on  being  sliown  a  picture  of  some  wild  scenery  near  Penzance, 
"  have  I  wandered  about  tliose  rocks  in  search  of  new  minerals, 
and,  when  fatigued,  sat  down  upon  ihe  turf,  and  exercised  my 

Vol.  I.— 38 


598  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [October, 

fancy  in  anticipations  of  scientific  renown  !"  Tliis  passion,  like 
ollicrs,  wlien  indulged  till  it  obtains  an  undue  influence,  certainly 
cannot  be  commended ;  but,  ■without  question,  it  Avas  placed  in  llic 
human  breast  for  wise  purposes  ;  and,  wlien  properly  controlled  by 
reason,  is  productive  of  the  most  beneficial  clfects. 

About  1796,  when  he  was  scarcely  seventeen  years  of  at^c, 
Davy  seems  first  to  have  given  liis  attention  to  the  stud}"-  of  che- 
mistry. The  first  books  he  used  were  Lavoisier's  "  Elements"  and 
Nicholson's  "  Chirnical  Dictionary."  With  his  characteristic  con- 
fidence in  himself,  and  contempt  of  mere  authority,  he  undertook 
to  put  the  views  of  the  French  chimist  to  the  test  of  experiment, 
and  for  a  lime  supposed  he  had  completely  demonstrated  their 
falsit)'!  It  is  not  nccessar}'  to  remark,  tliat  the  doctrines  of  Lavoi- 
sier proved  too  securely  founded  to  be  so  easily  overthrown ;  and 
none  more  ardently  embraced  them  than  did  Davy  in  after-Hfe. 

Tlie  question,  often  asked,  whether  the  peculiarities  of  different 
minds  are  to  be  considered  as  originally  inherent  in  the  conslilu- 
lion  itself,  or  whether  they  are  merely  tlie  result  of  circumstances, 
may  never  receive  an  answer  that  shall  be  universally  satisfaciory. 
But  whatever  original  differences  maj^  exist,  it  is  veiy  certain  lliat 
circumstances — sometimes  even  apparently  very  trifling  circum- 
stances— have  much  to  do  in  forming  the  character  of  an  individual. 
So  it  appears  to  have  been  with  Dav}'.  During  the  winter  of  17il7 
lie  was  so  fortunate  as  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  ]\Ir.  Gregory 
Watt,  son  of  the  individual  whose  name  is  so  intimately  connected 
with  the  steam-engine,  and  Sir.  Davics  Gilbert,*  who  was  after- 
ward president  of  the  Royal  Society.  To  make  the  acquaintance 
and  secure  the  friendship  of  two  such  men  as  these,  just  at  this 
period  of  Davy's  life,  especially  in  a  country  like  England,  where 
advancement  in  every  department  of  life  is  so  nuich  a  matter  of 
favor,  could  not  but  be  to  any  young  man  of  aspiring  genius  an 
event  of  great  importance  ;  but,  in  the  present  instance,  it  seems 
to  liavc  been  an  essential  link  in  the  chain  of  events  that  tcrminatcJ 
in  his  fully  establishing  his  claims  to  be  considered  one  of  the  mos-t 
gifted  and  successful  cultivators  of  science  the  w^orld  ever  saw. 
The  former,  j\Ir.  Walt,  was  unwell,  and  had  been  advised  by  his 
physicians  to  spend  some  time  in  the  west  of  England  ;  and  he 

*  Mr.  Gilbert  died,  at  the  advanced  age  of  seventy-lliiee,  during  the  past  year. 
38* 


1841.]  Life,  of  Sir  Ilumplncii  Davy.  599 

accordingly  rcsorlcd  to  Penzance,  and  look  board  and  lodgings 
with  Mrs.  Davy ;  and  thus,  almost  as  a  niattcr  of  course,  became 
acquainted  with  her  son  Humphry.  But  the  manner  of  Mr.  Gil- 
bert's introduction  was  more  singular,  and  has  more  of  a  fortuitous 
aspect  about  it.     The  event  is  thus  described  by  Dr.  Paris  : — 

"  Mr.  Gilbert's  attention  was  attracted  to  the  future  philosopher,  as 
lie  was  carelessly  swinging  over  the  hatch,  or  half  gate,  of  Mr.  Ikir- 
lase's,  by  the  humorous  contortions  into  which  he  threw  his  features. 
*■  *  *  A  person  who  happened  to  be  walking  with  him  on  the  occa- 
sion, obs<-:rvcd  that  the  extraordinary-looking  boy  in  question  was 
young  Davy,  the  carver's  son,  who,  he  added,  was  [is]  said  to  be  fond 
of  making  chimical  experiments.  '  Chiraical  cxpcrimcnis  !'  exclaimed 
Mr.  Gilbert,  with  much  surprise,  '  if  thai  be  the  case,  I  must  have  some 
conversation.  M'ith  him  ;'  " 

and  from  tliat  moment  commenced  a  friendship  between  iheni, 
which,  as  wc  shall  soon  see,  was  of  most  essential  service  to 
Davj',  and  continued  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

But  in  this  event,  which  proved  so  fortunate  to  young  Davy,  let 
not  blind  chance  receive  the  credit.  There  is  an  overruling  Pro- 
vidence ever  interfering  in  the  aflairs  of  men.  The  first  interview 
of  these  individuals  was,  indeed,  singularly  accidental ;  but  it  was 
Davy's  real  merit  that  secured  the  esteem  of  Mr.  Gilbert ;  had  he 
been  destitute  of  this,  we  cannot  sec  that  the  mere  circumstance 
of  their  having  been  thus  providentially  brought  in  contact  with 
each  other  could  ever  have  profited  liim. 

But  we  must  proceed  to  trace  the  history  of  our  subject  as 
he  emerged  from  the  obscuritj'-  of  youtli,  and  entered  upon  that 
Iranscendently  brilliant  career  which  terminated  only  with  his  life, 
about  thirty  years  afterward. 

Until  the  year  1755  or  1756,  when  Dr.  Black  of  Edinburgh  an- 
nounced the  discovery  of  carbonic  acid,  or  fixed  air,  as  he  named 
it,  it  was  not  known  that  there  exists  in  nature  any  other  ])erma- 
nent  aeriform  fluid  or  gas  except  atmospheric  air.  Next,  hydrogen 
gas  was  discovered  by  Cavendish  in  1766;  nitrogen,  or  azote,  in 
1772,  by  Dr.  Rutherford  of  Edinburgh  ;  hydrochloric  acid  gas,  in 
the  same  year,  by  Priestley;  and  oxygen,  in  1774,  by  both  Priest- 
ley and  Scheele,  independently  of  each  other.  Several  others,  be- 
sides these,  were  discovered  not  far  from  the  same  time. 

As  was  perfectly  natural,  soon  after  the  discovery  of  these  std)- 
stances,  ait  opinion  began  to  be  entertained  that  llicy  might  be 


GOO  Life  of  Sir  Humphnj  Davy.  [Octolicr, 

found  of  great  bpiicfit  in  ciirin!;-  some  of  tlic  many  diseases  wliicii 
afllict  our  race,  cillier  liy  their  l.icing  respired,  or  by  other  methods 
of  application  ;  and  it  was  at  length  determined  to  establish  a  luiul 
of  hospital,  with  the  express  view  of  determining  their  medicinal 
properties.  This  institution,  called  the  Pneutiiatic  Institulion,  was 
eventually  established  at  Clifton,  near  Bristol ;  and  was  placed  ini- 
der  the  management  of  Dr.  Bcddocs,  a  gentleman  of  sonic  distinc- 
tion, who  had  taken  great  interest  in  the  enterprise.  As  a  labora- 
tory for  experimental  incpiiry,  as  well  as  a  room  for  lectures,  was 
connected  with  the  institution,  an  assistant  was  of  course  found 
necessary;  and  tlic  place,  at  the  recommendation  of  I\rr.  (Jilbert, 
was  offered  to  Davy,  then  not  quite  twenty  years  of  age  !  IJcliold, 
then,  the  young  philosopher,  on  the  2d  of  October,  179S,  quilting 
liis  native  Penzance  for  Bristol,  which  was  bv  far  a  longer  journey 
than  he  had  ever  before  made,  to  enter  the  contest  for  scientific 
renown  with  the  master  spirits  of  the  age  !  ^^'ilhout  a  systemntic 
education — without  having  so  mucli  as  attended  a  single  course  of 
scientific  lectures — entirely  unknown  to  men  of  science,  except  the 
few  whose  names  have  been  mentioned — he  suddenly  presents 
liimsc.lf,  stripling  as  lie  is,  as  a  candidate  for  the  prize  for  whicli 
the  ablest  men  in  the  world  are  contending  under  the  ni'"'?t 
favorable  circumstances  ! 

Made  virlulc,  puei;  sic  itur  cd  aslra. 

Upon  Dav5''s  arrival  at  Clifton  he  was  received  into  the  acroni- 
plished  family  of  Dr.  Beddoes,  where  he  also  met,  among  otluMs, 
Mr.  Southe)',  Mr.  Coleridge,  and  the  late  Lord  Durham,  whose 
name  has  recently  been  so  well  known  in  this  country  in  connec- 
tion with  Canadian  politics.  Tlie  latter,  with  a  brother  of  his,  was 
then  residing  as  a  student  with  Dr.  Beddoes.  Notwithsiandinfr  his 
many  disadvantages,  arising  from  his  awkward  personal  nppe:ir- 
ancc  and  want  of  familiarity  with  the  usages  of  polite  society,  on 
account  of  his  genius,  wit,  and  other  redeeming  qualities,  he  scciii"! 
to  have  met  with  a  very  cordial  and  wclcoiuc  reception.  He  liii- 
medialely  commenced  his  duties  in  the  Pneumatic  Institulion,  wliirli 
soon  had  a  list  of  nearly  one  hundred  patients;  and  labored  \\wi\ 
assiduously  to  promote  the  objects  for  which  it  had  been  c.-;tab- 
lishcd.  No  created  being  was  ever  more  perfectly  in  his  elenicni. 
Dr.  Beddoes,  like  himself,  at  this  period  was  soniewhat  visionary ; 


1841.1  Life  of  Sir  llumphry  Davy.  GOl 

and  they  both  seem  to  liavc  been  very  confidciil  in  llie  opinion  that, 
if  tlicy  did  not  meet  with  full  success  in  tlieir  chief  olijcct  of  pur- 
suit, tlicy  should  certainly  add  something  of  importance  to  the  sum 
of  human  knowledge.  But  a  few  months  elapsed  before  they  gave 
to  the  world  a  volume  of  scientific  essays  of  some  four  liundrcd 
pages,  more  than  half  of  which  was  from  the  pen  of  Davy,  and  of 
just  such  a  character  as  wo  might  expect.  Davy's  articles — and 
we  might  probably  include  ihoke  of  Dr.  Beddoes  also— says  his 
brother,  Dr.  Dav}-,  abounded  in  wild  and  visionary  speculations, 
partial  reasonings,  and  erroneous  experiments ;  and  it  is  said  that 
in  after-life,  wlien  he  was  capable  of  seeing  the  folly  of  his  course, 
he  never  alluded  to  the  subject  himself,  and  became  irritated  at 
once  if  it  was  introduced  by  others.  This  volume  was  edited  by 
Dr.  Beddoes,  whose  name  alone  appeared  upon  the  title-page  ;  but 
in  a  little  more  than  a  year  afterward  a  second  was  published, 
under  the  auspices  of  our  young  plulosopher  himself,  which  at- 
tracted great  attention  from  its  containing  the  first  announcement 
of  his  discovery  of  the  wonderful  exhilarating  effects  of  nitrous 
o.vyd  gas,  when  taken  into  the  lungs. 

This  gas  is  the  protoxyd  of  nitrogen.  When  he  commenced 
liis  experiments,  no  method  was  known  by  which  it  could  be  ob- 
tained in  a  state  of  purity;  but  having  discovered  a  new  and  gTcatlj'- 
improved  process,  he  resolved  to  make  the  hazardous  experiment 
of  introducing  it  into  his  lungs,  which  he  did  at  first,  of  course, 
with  some  caution.  And,  as  it  contributed  so  much  toward  estab- 
lishing his  rising  fame  as  an  original  experimenter,  and,  probably 
more  than  any  thing  else,  occasioned  his  promotion  to  the  office  of 
"  director  of  the  laboratory'  and  assistant  professor  of  chimistry  in 
the  Royal  Institution"  scarcely  a  year  afterward,  we  will  give  his 
own  account  of  the  experiment : — 

"  In  April,"  says  he,  "  I  obtained  nitrous  oxyd  in  a  state  of  purity, 
and  ascertained  many  of  its  chimical  properties.  Reflections  upon 
these  properties,  ami  upon  former  trials,  made  me  resolve  to  inspire  it 
in  its  pine  form,  for  I  saw  no  other  way  in  wliich  its  respirability,  or 
powers,  could  ho  determined. 

"  I  was  aware  of  the  danger  of  the  experiment.  *  *  •  I  thoujrht  that 
the  clTects  might  possibly  be  depressing  and  painful ;  but  there  were 
many  reasons  which  induced  nie  to  believe  that  a  single  inspiration  of 
a  g.i.s,  apparently  possessing  no  immediate  action  on  the  irritable  llbre, 
could  neither  destroy,  nor  materially  injure,  the  powers  of  life. 

"On  April  11th,  i  made  the  first  inspiration  of  pure  nitrous  oxyd. 


602  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [Octul>cr, 

It  passed  through  the  bronchim  without  stimulating  the  glottis,  and 
produced  no  uneasy  sensation  in  the  lunys. 

"  The  result  of  this  exporiiuont  proved  that  the  gas  was  [is]  respira- 
lile,  and  induced  me  to  believe  that  a  further  trial  of  its  effects  might 
bc-made  without  danger. 

"  Oa  April  IGth,  Dr.  Kingslake  being  accidentally  present,  I  breathed 
three  quarts  of  nitrous  oxyd  from  and  into  a  silk  bag,  for  more  titan 
half  a  minute,  without  previously  closing  my  nose  or  exhausting  my 
lungs.  The  first  inspirations  occasioned  a  slight  degree  of  giddiness, 
which  was  succeeded  by  an  unconnnon  sense  of  fulness  in  the  head, 
accompanied  with  the  loss  of  distinct  sensation  and  voluntary  power — 
a  feeling  analogous  to  that  produced  in  the  first  stages  of  intoxication  ; 
but  unattended  by  pleasurable  sensation.  Dr.  Kingslake,  who  felt  my 
pulse,  informed  me  that  it  was  rendered  quicker  and  fuller." — Vol.  i, 
pp.  90,  91. 

This  trial  did  not  full)'  satisfy  liim  ;  and  the  next  day  he  repeated 
the  experiment  in  the  presence  of  Dr.  Beddoes  :— 

"  Having  previously  closed  my  nostrils,"  says  he,  "  and  exhausted 
my  lungs,  I  breathed  four  quarts  of  the  gas  from  and  into  a  silk  bag. 
The  first  feelings  were  similar  to  those  produced  in  the  last  ex|i(  ri- 
mont ;  but  in  b-'ss  than  half  a  minute,  the  respiration  being  contiiii;ed, 
they  diniinishoJ  giaiUially,  and  were  succeeded  by  a  sensation  analo- 
gous to  gentle  prcs-n:re  on  all  the  muscles, /attended  by  a  highly  ]>lr:i- 
smable  thrilling,  p^atieularly  in  the  chest  and  in  the  extremities.  T!ic 
objects  around  uic  boca]ne  dazzling,  and  my  hearing  more  acute. 
Toward  the  last  inspirations,  the  thrilling  increa-^ed,  the  sense  of 
muscular  power  bceann;'  greater,  and,  at  last,  an  irresistible  );riiprii'-i;y 
to  action  was  indulged  in  :  I  recollect  but  indistinctly  whtit  fcillowi-d  ; 
I  know  that  my  motions  were  various  and  violent. 

"  These  eficcts  very  soon  ceased  after  the  resjiirntion  of  the  cas. 
In  ten  minutes  I  had  recovered  my  natural  state  of  mind.  The  thril- 
ling in  the  extremities  continued  longer  than  the  other  sensations. 

"  This  experiment  was  made  in  the  morning ;  no  languor  or  ex- 
haustion was  consequent ;  my  feelings  throughout  the  day  were  as 
usual,  and  I  passed  tlie  night  in  undisturbed  repose. 

"  The  next  morning  the  recollection  of  the  efl'ccts  of  the  gas  was 
very  indistinct ;  and  had  not  remarks,  written  immediately  after  the 
experiment,  recalled  them  to  my  mind,  I  should  even  have  questioned 
their  reality." — Vol.  i,  pp.  91,  92. 

Animated,  and  even  enthusiastic  with  his  unexpected  sticccs.'*, 
he  subsequently  continued  his  experiments  upon  tlie  effects  of  re- 
spiring this  gas,  by  inviting  others  to  become  his  sniijcct.s;  and, 
did  our  limits  permit,  it  inight  afford  us  some  arnuseiiienl  to  de- 
scribe the  appearance  and  actions  of  such  distinguished  men  as 
Coleridge,  Soutlicy,  and  others  of  the  experimenter's  friends,  wliilc 
under  its  influence.     But  we  pass,  merely  remarking  tliat  the  c.\- 


1 64 1 .]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  603 

pcriment  which  was  tluis  first  performed  hy  Davy  lias  not  ceased 
to  interest,  thougli  it  lias  long  been  familiar  with  evcrjf  lectm-er  in 
the  science  of  chiinisti^'.  But  it  is  found  that  eveiy  person  cannot 
inhale  the  gas  wiih  perfect  safety. 

Having  determined  some  of  the  most  important  properties  of 
nitrous  oxyd,  particularly  its  effects  upon  respiration,  he  proceeded 
to  investigate  the  nature  of  nitric  oxyd,  which  is  a  bin  oxyd  of 
nitrogen,  the  other  gas,  as  it  will  be  recollected,  being  the  proto.x)'d 
cf  nitrogen.  He  even  attempted,  "during  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,"  as 
he  himself  admits,  to  introduce  it  into  his  lungs,  at  the  imminent 
liazard  of  his  life ;  and  it  is  probable  he  was  saved  from  self- 
sacrifice  only  by  tlie  powerful  spasm  of  the  epiglottis,  wliich,  it  is 
known,  always  takes  place  when  a  deleterious  gas  in  a  tolerably 
pure  state  approaches  the  passage. 

His  next  attempt  was  to  breathe  carburetled  hydrogen  gas, 
which  was  scarcely  less  terrific  and  appalling.  As  it  tends  to 
throw  light  upon  his  character  for  perseverance  and  daring  enter- 
prise, we  will  give  a  brief  account  of  it.  At  the  first  trial  he 
breathed  three  cpiarts  of  the  gas,  diluted  with  two  quarts  of  air, 
nearly  a  minute,  which  produced  only  "  slight  giddiness,  pain  in 
the  head,  and  a  momentar)'  loss  of  voluntary  power,"  and  rendered 
his  pulse  more  quick  and  feeble.  These  eiTects,  however,  were 
of  short  continuance,  and  he  decided  to  make  a  repetition  of  the 
experiment  :— 

"  Emboldened  by  this  trial,"  says  ho,  "  I  introduced  into  a  silk  bag 
four  quarts  of  the  gas,  nearly  pure,  which  was  carefully  produced  from 
the  decomposition  of  water  by  charcoal  an  hour  before,  and  which  had 
a  very  strong  and  disagreeable  smell. 

"  My  friend,  !\Ir.  James  Tobin,  jim.,  being  present,  after  a  forced 
exhaustion  of  my  hmgs,  the  nose  being  accurately  closed,  I  made  three 
inspirations  and  expirations  of  the  hydrocarbonatc.*  The  first  inspira- 
tion produced  a  sort  of  numbness  and  loss  of  feeling  in  the  chest,  and 
about  the  pectoral  muscles.  After  tlie  second,  I  lost  all  power  of  per- 
ceiving external  things,  and  had  no  distinct  sensation,  except  that  of  a 
terrible  oppression  on  the  chest.  During  the  third  expiration,  this 
feeling  subsided,  1  seemed  sinking  into  annihilation,  and  had  just 
power  enough  to  cast  oil"  the  nioutlipicce  from  my  unclosed  lips. 

"  A  short  interval  must  have  elapsed,  during  which  I  respired  coni- 

*  This  name  is  not  now  in  use  ;  but  as  he  alludes  to  his  mrilinfl  of  pre- 
paring the  gas  for  this  purpose  from  charcoal,  it  is  prcMimcd  to  be  the  light 
carburctted  hydrogen  of  rcut-iit  writers  on  uhimistr)'. 


604  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [October, 

mon  air,  before  tlic  objects  around  nie  were  distinguishable.  On  rrcol- 
Iccting  inyseli;  I  laintly  articulated,  '  /  do  not  think  I  shall  dif:  Plac in;; 
my  fini;er  on  my  v>  rist,  I  found  my  jjulsc  thread-like,  and  beatinn;  with 
excessive  quickness.  In  less  tlian  a  minute  I  was  able  to  Avalk,  and 
the  painful  oppression  on  the  chest  directed  mo  to  the  open  air. 

"After  making  a  few  steps,  which  carried  me  to  the  garden,  ni\ 
head  became  giddy,  my  knees  trembled,  and  I  had  just  sullicient  vo- 
luntary power  to  throw  myself  upon  the  grass.  Here  the  paiiilul 
feelings  of  the  chest  increased  with  such  violence  as  to  threaten 
suffocation.  At  this  moment  I  asked  for  some  nitrous  oxyd.  .Mr. 
Dwyer  brought  me  a  mixture  of  that  gas  and  oxygen,  and  I  breathed 
it  for  a  minute  and  believed  myself  recovered." — Vol.  i,  pp.  100,  101. 

About  Imlf  an  hour  afterward,  having  in  the  mean  lime  walked 
soinc  distance  ;vilh  a  friend,  he  found  himself  entirely  free  from 
pain,  but  feeble,  and  his  pulse  at  120.  The  pain  and  giddiness, 
however,  subsequentl}^  returned  with  violence,  accompanied  with 
nausea,  loss  of  niemoiy,  and  deficient  sensation ;  but  after  sufler- 
ing  excruciating  pain  in  various  parts  of  the  S3'stem,  he  gradually 
recovered;  and  having  slept  soundly  at  night,  he  found  himself 
the  next  morning  quite  well,  though  feeble.  Jiy  the  next  evening 
he  had  entirely  recovered  his  strength. 

Thus  terminated  one  of  tlie  most  daring  experiments  ever  iinJor- 
taken  for  the  benefit  of  science.  Davy  always  thought,  if  lie  Iiad 
taken  but  one  or  two  more  inspirations  of  the  gas,  his  recovers' 
would  have  been  impossible.'  There  can  be  little  doubt,  we  lliink. 
but  that  this  and  otlier  similar  experiments,  made  at  dili'erenl  times 
Tipon  himself,  had  much  to  do  in  bringing  on  that  premature  decay 
whicli  terminated  his  useful  life  at  the  early  age  of  fifty. 

It  would  seem  that  the  above  narrow  escape  should  liave  been 
considered  sufficient  for  experiments  of  that  cliaracter,  but  he  sul- 
fercd  only  one  week  to  elapse  before  he  made  a  similar  atlcin])t  to 
brcatlie  carbonic  acid  gas,  which,  however,  he  found,  could  not,  in 
a  state  of  purity,  be  introduced  into  the  lungs,  because  of  the  sj)as- 
modic  closing  of  the  epiglottis. 

That  experiments  and  discoveries,  like  these  we  have  jusl  de- 
tailed, should  excite  general  admiration,  cannot  surprise  us.  Youth 
as  he  yet  was,  these  achievements  of  his  bespoke  for  him  the  higli 
consideration  of  the  lovers  and  cultivators  of  science  ;  but  provi- 
dentially there  was  just  at  this  time,  though  quite  unknown  to  him- 
self or  others,  a  pluco  in  prejiaration  for  him  which  he  was  soon 
destined  to  fill  with  the  liishest  lionui,  and  biit  foi  whicli,  as  it 


1 84 1 .]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  605 

would  seem,  he  miglit  nolwillislanding  have  spent  liis  days  in 
comparative  obscurity. 

The  I'oyal  Institution  of  Great  Britain  was  founded  in  London 
in  tlie  year  1800,  chiefly  by  the  exertions  of  Count  Rumford,  who 
tlierefore  acquired  great  influence  in  the  management  of  its  con- 
cerns. As  it  was  designed  for  the  general  promotion  of  science,  a 
chimical  laboratory  and  lecture  room  were  provided,  and  an  indi- 
vidual appointed  to  give  an  annual  course  of  chimical  lectures. 
Davy  was  strongly  recommended  lo  the  count  by  several  of  his 
friends,  among  whom  were  Mr.  Underwood  and  the  late  Dr.  Hope 
of  Edinburgh ;  and  his  claims  appear  to  have  beeji  pressed  with 
considerable  urgency.  Upon  being  informed  of  the  negotiation 
that  was  in  progress,  by  the  advice  of  liis  friends,  he  immediately 
repaired  to  London  with  his  characteristic  ardor,  and  waited  on  the 
count  in  person,— a  circumstance  which  came  near  proving  fatal  to 
his  appointment.  His  appearance  was  then  very  unprepossessing; 
and  the  count  was  so  disgusted,  that,  after  the  interview,  he  ex- 
pressed to  Mr.  Underwood  his  great  regret  that  he  had  been  influ- 
enced so  much  by  the  ardor  with  which  the  suit  had  been  pressed. 
Ke  however  so  far  yielded  his  prejudices  as  to  consent  that  the 
young  man  should  have  an  opportunity  to  give  a  specimen  of  his 
abilities,  by  delivering  a  private  lecture  before  himself  and  a  few 
select  friends  of  the  institution  in  the  small  lecture  room  ;  which 
proved  so  satisfactory,  that  at  its  conclusion  the  count  exclaimed 
emphatically,  "  Let  him  command  any  arrangements  which  the 
institution  can  afiord."  Thus  unsophisticated  genius  triumphed ! 
•  The  next  day  he  commenced  hi.s  pre-eminently  successful  career 
in  the  great  theatre  of  the  institution. 

The  diflicultics  through  which  Davy  had  already  struggled  would 
seem  to  have  been  all  but  insurmountable,  but  he  had  successfully 
combatcd  them  all.  lie  however  was  yet  surrounded  with  them  ; 
— such  difllculties,  too,  as  could  be  successfully  contended  with 
only  b)'-  those  possessed  of  industry,  energy,  and  genius  like  his. 
A  j^oung  man,  not  yet  twenty-two  3rears  of  age,  uncouth  in  liis 
appearance,  and  unknown  to  the  world — of  which  he  in  turn  knows 
as  little — with^  but  an  indiflerent  education,  and  very  little  expe- 
rience, is  suddenly  brought  from  an  obscure  place  and  the  hum- 
blest walks  of  life  to  the  very  metropolis  of  the  scientific  world, 
and  duly  installed  as  scientific  instructor  to  the  proud  and  haughty 


606  Life  of  Sir  IJiimplinj  Davy.  [October, 

aristocracy  of  London  !  Tlic  indilTcrcnl  spectator  of  sucl>  a  scene 
might,  with  no  great  improprici}',  have  predicted  a  certain  failure ; 
but  Davy,  in  his  simphcity  and  his  zeal,  seems  never  to  liavc 
dreamed  that  such  a  thing  was  possible.  So  confident  was  he  in 
l)is  ability  to  answer  every  expectation,  that  he  did  not  delay  to  ask 
liimself  the  question ;  but,  the  place  being  oflcred  him,  he  at  once 
look  possession  of  h,  and  commenced  the  performance  of  the 
duties  it  imposed. 

But  even  Davy's  success,  though  in  a  great  measure  to  be  attri- 
buted to  his  genius  and  his  industrj^,  was  not  without  the  aid  of 
adventitious  circumstances.  Indeed,  through  hfe,  in  liis  various 
successes,  as  has  been  remarked,  "we  witness  the  triumph  of 
fortune  as  well  as  of  talent."  The  fact  of  the  institution  being  llicn 
new  and  popular,  and  sustained  by  such  controlling  influence,  with- 
out .  question,  contributed  much  to  the  popularity  of  the  lecturer. 
One  circumstance  which  is  said  to  have  contributed  to  his  advance- 
ment at  the  commencement  of  his  duties  in  the  Royal  Institution 
seems  to  us  a  httle  singular. 

"  On  the  7tli  of  April,"  says  Dr.  P.,  "  ho  was  elected  a  mciuljor  of  a 
society  v.-hich  consisted  of  twenty-five  of  the  most  \iolent  re|iiili!ic;iiis 
of  llic  (lay  ;  it  was  called  the  Tcpidarian  Socicl?/,  from  llic  cirtMiiiisi.-uico 
of  notliiii;:  but  tea  hcinc;  allowed  at  their  mocliiigs,  vv-hicli  were  liclil  a; 
old  SlaiigJiter's  Coffee  IIouso  in  Saint  Martin's  Lane.  'I'o  the  iiiiimiirn 
of  this  society,  Mr.  Underwood  states  that  Davy  wss  frreatly  iTiilcli!t.-d 
for  his  early  pojnilarity.  Fame  gathers  her  laurels  with  a  slnw  hand, 
and  the  most  brilliant  talents  require  a  certain  time  for  producing  a  duo 
impression  upon  the  public:  the  Tcpidarians  exerted  all  their  jjcison.al 
influence  to  obtain  an  audience  before  the  reputation  of  the  lecturer 
coidd  have  been  sufficiently  known  to  attract  one." — Vol.  i,  p.  131. 

The  singularity  of  the  affair  is,  that  republicanism  should  be 
made  to  contribute  to  the  advancement  of  an  individual  among  the 
aristocracy,  and  even  llic  very  court  circles  of  Great  Britain  ! 

Davy  had  been  connected  with  the  Royal  Institution  as  assistant 
lecturer  only  six  or  eight  weeks,  when  his  predecessor.  Dr.  Gar- 
nelt,  resigned  ;  but  he  had  already  secured  tlie  full  confidence  of 
tlie  managers,  and  was  immediately  appointed  "  lecturer  in  chi- 
mistry  at  the  Royal  Institution,  instead  of  continuing  to  occupy  the 
place  of  assistant."*     Some  idea  of  the  estimate  they  had  formed 

^  Subsequently  it  was  voted  "  ho  slioukl  be  stykd  Trek'ssor  of  Chinii.-lry  to 
the  Royal  Institution." 


1841.]  '  Life  of  Sir  Ilumphrij  Davy.  C07 

of  liis  resources  may  be  learned  from  the  fact,  that  only  a  month 
afterward  they  passed  a  resolution  requesting  him  to  prepare  a 
course  of  lectures  on  "the  chimical  principles  of  the  art  of  tanning," 
and  invited  respectable  persons  of  the  trade  to  bo  present  at  their 
delivery. 

Soon  afterward,  by  direction  of  the  managers  of  the  institution, 
he  gave  a  course  of  lectures  on  agriculture,  which  he  repealed  an- 
nually for  several  years,  and  subsequently  published  them  in  a 
small  volume. 

The  first  regular  course  of  lectures  on  cliimislry  which  Davy 
gave  in  the  Royal  Inslilulion  commenced  Januajy  21st,  1S02,  on 
which  day  he  gave  his  first  introductory  lecture  "  on  the  benefits 
to  be  derived  from  the  various  branches  of  science,"  to  a  delighted 
audience.  The  great  populnrit}'-  which  lie  had  already  acquired  in 
London,  though  his  lectures  had  been  rather  desultory,  was  more 
than  sustained  by  this  brilliant  efTort,  and  an  extraordinary  sensa- 
tion produced,  especially  among  the  members  of  the  institution. 
Nor  did  the  interest  thus  excited  in  the  least  flag  during  the  pro- 
gress of  the  course,  which,  all  things  considered,  was  perhaps  the 
most  extraordinary  ever  delivered  in  that  scientific  metropolis. 
Jlr.  Purkis,  one  of  Davy's  earliest  friends,  says  : — 

"  The  sensation  created  bj-  his  first  course  of  lectures  at  llic  insii- 
tution,  and  the  enlhusiaslic  admiration  which  they  obtained,  is  at  lliis 
period  scarcely  to  be  imagined.  Men  of  the  highest  rank  and  lalciif, 
— the  literary  and  the  scientific,  the  practical  and  the  tlieorelical, 
blue-stockings  and  women  of  fashion,  the  old  and  the  youii!;,  all 
crowded— eagerly  crowded  the  lecture  room.  His  yoiilli,  liis  sim- 
plicity, his  natural  eloquence,  his  chimical  knowledge,  his  liapjiy 
illustrations,  and  well-conducted  experiments,  excited  universal  alten- 
tion  and  unbounded  applause.  Compliments,  invitations,  and  jircsents, 
were  showered  upon  him  in  abundance  from  all  quarters  ;  his  society 
was  couitrd  by  all,  and  all  appeared  proud  of  his  acquaintance."' — 
Vol.  i,  p.  IMo.  ■ 

"At  length,"  says  Dr.  Paris,  "  so  popular  did  he  become,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  duchess  of  Gordon  ancl  other  leaders  of  high  fishion, 
that  even  tlicir  soirees  were  considered  incomplete  without  his  pre- 
sence."— Vol.  i,  p.  137. 

Tliese  attentions,  liowever,  were  not  permitted  to  draw  him  aside 
from  the  paths  of  science,  though  it  is  admitted  a  bad  eflcct  r.'as 
produced  u]jon  his  manners  and  general  character.  Though  lie 
mingled  much  in   fashionable   society,  his   laboratory  was  never 


608  Life  of  Sir  Ilumplirij  Davy.  [October, 

neglected,  as  was  evinced  by  the  fact  that  the  immense  crowds  tliat 
attended  ujion  his  lectures  were  always  sure  to  be  gratified  by  liis 
newly  devised  and  highly  illustrative  experiments,  which  were 
conducted  with  great  address,  and  explained  in  the  most  perspicuous 
and  eloquent  language.  His  style  was  highly  "florid  and  imagina- 
tive," and  very  fascinating,  and  admirably  adapted  to  his  audience, 
who  probably  attended  rather  for  amusement  than  instruction. 

"  Ho  would  consider,"  says  his  biographer,  "  a  jiarticlc  of  crystal 
with  so  delicate  a  regard  for  its  minute  beauties,  and  expatiate  with 
so  tender  a  tone  of  interest  on  its  fair  proportions,  as  aliiiost  to  convey 
an  idea  that  lie  bewailed  the  condition  of  necessity  which  for  ever 
allotted  it  so  slender  a  place  in  the  vast  scheme  of  creation  !" — Vol. 
i,  p.  138. 

Besides  his  general  lectures  in  the  institution,  Davy  was  now 
employed,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  in  giving  two  other  courses, 
one  on  the  art  of  tanning,  and  the  other  on  the  chimistry  of  agricul- 
ture ;  but  he  found  time  to  attend  to  various  other  matters  of  interest. 
He  made  original  experiments  on  almost  every  subject  coiniected 
with  his  favorite  science,  particularly  those  which  cccitcd  most 
attention  at  the  time.  Among  others  he  gave  consideralile  altcnlion 
for  a  time  toWedgcwood's  method  of  "copying  paintings  upon  glass, 
and  of  making  profiles  by  the  agency  of  light  upon  nitrate  of  silver," 
which  has  very  recently  been  so  much  improved  by  I^Lr.  Talbot  o{ 
England,  and  from  which,  also,  M.  Dagucrre  himself  probably  re- 
ceived the  first  hints  on  tlie  subject  of  painting  by  the  uLicncy  of 
light!  Davy  improved  considerably  upon  Wedgewood's  process, 
but  was  unable  to  devise  any  method  by  which  the  pictures  could 
be  fixed. 

At  this  period  the  science  of  galvanism  was  receiving  much  at- 
tention, though  but  just  in  its  infancy,  Galvani's  discover)',  which 
gave  it  both  origin  and  name,  having  been  made  in  1791.  Davy. 
as  a  matter  of  course,  became  early  interested  in  it,  and  was  one 
of  its  most  assiduous  cultivators  oven  before  he  left  Bristol.  The 
first  great  step  in  clectro-chiniical  science  was  made  by  Nicholson 
and  Carlisle  early  in  the  year  1800,  in  the  discovery  of  the  decom- 
position of  water  by  the  voltaic  pile.  Soon  afterward  it  was  dis- 
covered by  others,  that  when  several  salts  in  a  state  of  solution  are 
exposed  to  the  action  of  tlie  galvanic  circuit,  they  arc  dccomiioscd, 
the  acid  always  appearing  at  the  positive,  an'!  the  alkali  at  the 
negative  pole.     Davy  immediately  commenced  a  series  of  expert- 


]S41.]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  609 

mciils  b}'  which  he  uas  conducted  to  some  most  important  results 
tlint  were  announced  in  his  Bakerian  lecture*  for  1806. 

We  cannot  licre  delay  to  give  a  detailed  account  of  this  h.ighly 
interesting  lecture,  but  can  only  remark  that  the  views  he  promul- 
galcd  were  novel  in  the  highest  degree,  and  considered  so  important 
that  the  Institute  of  France  awarded  to  him  the  prize  founded  by 
Napoleon  for  the  most  important  discoveries  in  galvanism  ;  and  this 
too  at  a  period  when  the  national  animosities  existing  between  that 
country  and  England  were  in  the  highest  degree  excited. 

"  Tliis  grand  clisplay  of  scientific  light,''  says  Dr.  Paris,  "  burst  upon 
Europe  like  a  splendid  meteor,  throwing  its  radiance  into  the  deepest 
recesses,  and  opening  to  the  view  of  the  philosopher  new  and  unex- 
pected regions." — Vol.  i,  p.  227. 

Encouraged  by  his  unexampled  success,  and  guided  by  the  new 
principles  which  he  had  himself  developed,  he  now  "struck  at  once 
into  new  paths  of  discovery  ;"  and  every  successive  announcement 
of  his  for  years  was  hailed  with  enthusiastic  admiration  by  the 
cultivators  of  science  throughout  the  world  :  and  generally  th.e 
public  expectation,  though  highly  raised,  was  admirably  met.  But 
it  would  be  attributing  to  him  something  more  than  human,  to  say 
that  every  effort  was  equally  successful. 

Previous  to  tliis  time,  the  alkalies  potassa  and  soda,  and  the 
earths  baryta,  strontia,  lime,  magnesia,  etc.,  had  universally  been 
considered  simple  substances,  as  they  had  resisted  all  attempts 
made  to  decompose  them ;  or  if  any  had  made  any  conjectures 
concerning  their  composition,  they  certainly  were  nothing  more 
than  conjectures. 

Davy  himself  had  often  speculated  with  regard  to  them  ;  but  in 
September,  ISO?,  he  commenced  a  series  of  experiments  which 
terminated  in  the  decomposition  of  potassa,  and  the  demonstration  of 
its  true  composition  on  the  19th  of  October  following,  an  achieve- 
ment which  alone  would  have  rendered  his  name  immortal.  This 
was  efi'eclcd  by  means  of  the  new  agent  of  decomposition,  galvanic 

*Tliis  is  a  lecture  given  anminlly  by  a  Fellow  of  ihc  Roy.il  Society,  on 
some  subject  connectrd  with  natural  history  or  experimental  philosojihy,  in 
accordauce  with  the  will  of  a  Mr.  Baker,  who  dietl  in  177 1,  and  left  by  liis  will 
one  himdreJ  pounds  to  be  invested,  and  the  income  of  it  paid  each  year  to  the 
person  who  should  be  selected  for  this  purpose,  by  the  president  and  council 
of  the  society.    Davy  delivered  the  lecture  for  the  years  190G-10,  and  18-2G. 


610  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Daiuj.  [Oclohcr, 

electricity,  tliree  different  batteries"  having  been  combined  in  one 
for  this  purpose.  He  showed  conclusively  that  potassa  is  com- 
posed of  a  metal  and  oxygen  which  have  so  strong  an  affuiity  fur 
each  other  that  they  can  be  separated  only  with  the  utmost  diffi- 
culty. The  new  metal,  though  possessing  luiquestionable  claims 
to  be  considered  as  such,  he  found  to  possess  some  very  peculiar 
properties.  It  is  quite  soft,  is  lighter  than  water,  oxydizes  rapiilly 
in  the  open  air,  and  takes  fue  instantly  when  thrown  upon  water  ! 

We  are  informed  by  his  relative,  Mr.  E.  Davy,  who  was  present, 
that  when  he  first  saw  the  minute  globules  of  the  new  metal  niake 
their  appearance,  and  take  fire  as  they  entered  the  atmosphere, 
"he  could  not  contain  liis  joy,  but  actually  danced  about  the  room 
in  ecstatic  dchght;  and  some  little  time  was  required  for  him  to 
compose  himself  sulEciently  to  continue  the  experiment." 

Soon  after  this  he  decomposed  soda  in  the  same  manner.  Tiic 
new  metals  thus  obtained,  he  proposed  to  call  potassium  and 
sodium,  and  the  names  have  been  universally  adopted.  Subse- 
quently Davy  applied  this  new  engine  to  the  decomposition  of  ih'- 
alkaline  earths  baryta,  strontia,  lime,  and  magnesia,  obtaining  from 
them  evident  traces  of  their  metallic  bases,  to  which  he  gave  the 
names  barium,  .strontium,  calcium,  and  magnesium.  His  atiar.ks. 
however,  upon  the  earths  proper  were  less  successful,  ihou^-li  he 
was  able  to  satisfy  himself  of  the  fact  of  their  com]iosiliun  i)eiii;: 
altogether  analogous  to  that  of  the  other  bodies  of  the  same  c\x-<. 
Subsequent  discoveries  have  proved  the  perfect  correctness  of  !iis 
views.  His  discovery  of  the  composition  of  the  fixed  alkalies  was 
announced  in  his  second  Lakerian  lecture  for  the  year  1S07,  and 
probably  produced  a  gi-eater  sensation  in  the  scientific  world,  th.nn 
any  similar  announcement  that  was  ever  made.  Its  importance 
alone  would  have  been  sufficient  to  attract  general  attention  ;  l)i;t 
the  various  circumstances  connected  with  it,  all  tended  to  give  it  nn 
extraordinary  degree  of  interest,  and  increase  tlie  cndnisiasni  with 
which  it  was  received. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  experiments  of  Davy  wore  iin;.u-- 
diately  repeated  by  others,  and  with  similar  results  ;  but  all  did  ik>; 
at  once  acquiesce  in  his  views  with  regard  to  the  real  comi>osiiion 
of  the  alkalies.  We  will  not,  however,  here  enter  into  a  dcl.iilea 
account  of  the  short  controversy  that  ensued.  It  is  sufficient  that 
numerous  minute  investigations  which  have  since  been  made,  have 


1841.]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  611 

fully  cslablishcd  tlic  IruUi  of  Davy's  conclusion,  viz.,  that  potassa 
is  simply  a  protoxj'd  of  its  metallic  base,  potassium. 

Soon  after  the  delivery  of  his  second  Bakerian  lecture,  early  in 
Nov.,  1807,  which  we  have  already  mentioned,  he  was  thro\Mi  into 
a  severe  fit  of  illnes.s,  which  continued  many  weeks,  and  which  his 
physicians  affirmed  was  occasioned  by  his  continued  toil  and  excite- 
ment during  several  months  preceding.  It  ought  to  be  mentioned 
also,  as  Dr.  Paris  has  done,  that  he  was  at  this  time  extremely 
irregular  and  even  intemperate  in  some  of  his  habits,  against  which 
men  of  sedentary  life  ought  always  especially  to  guaril. 

Davy's  illness  was  long  and  severe,  but  he  eventually  recovered 
williout  permanent  injury  to  his  constitution.  The  regular  annual 
course  of  chimical  lectures  in  the  institution  was  given  during  his 
illness  by  another  person.  Soon  after  his  recovery  he  started  t!ie 
project  of  constructing  a  magnificent  galvanic  battery  for  the  Koyal 
Institution  by  private  subscription,  which,  by  the  munificence  of  a 
few  individuals  was  shortly  accomplished.  This  splendid  piece 
of  apparatus,  it  is  believed,  was  the  largest  instrument  of  the  kind 
ever  constructed.  "It  consisted  of  two  hundred  instruments,  con- 
nected together  in  regular  order,  each  composed  of  ten  double 
plates -arranged  in  cells  of  porcelain,  and  containing  in  each  plate 
thirty-two  square  inches,  so  that  the  whole  number  of  plates  is  two 
thousand,  and  the  whole  surface  128,000  square  inches."* 

With  this  batteiy  he  performed  many  magnificent  experiments; 
but  it  is  found  that  little  is  gained  by  increasing  the  size  of  such 
instruments  beyond  even  quite  narrow  limits.  The  results  there- 
fore were  h)'  no  means  such  as  were  generally  expected.  For 
several  years  succeeding  this  period,  Davy  labored  incessantly  in 
the  laboratory  of  the  Roval  Institution,  and  did  much,  by  his  failures 
as  well  as  by  his  discoveries,  to  settle  many  of  the  trullis  of  science. 
Self-confident  even  to  a  fault,  he  seems  to  have  pursued  his  investi- 
gations with  a  perfect  indiflcreiice,  not  to  say  contempt,  for  the 
opinions  of  others,  which  were  often  alluded  to  in  terms  not  the  most 
respectful.  With  a  quickness  of  perception  perhaps  scarcely  ever 
equalled,  he  sometimes  adopted  his  conclusions  quite  too  hastily ; 
and,  crude  and  erroneous  as  they  were,  published  thenr  at  once  to 
the  world.  In  candor,  however,  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  was 
always  ready  to  retract  when  convinced  of  mistake  ;  and  in  some 
*  Davy's  Elements  of  Chimical  Pliilosophy,  page  85.  Am.  edition. 


G12  Life  of  Sir  Ilumplvy  Daiij.  [October, 

instances,  as  Dr.  P.  justly  remarks,  he  displayed  great  vigor  in  dis- 
entangling himself  from  the  webs  of  error  which  he  had  previously 
fabricated.  That  he  always  escaped  a  sneer  cannot  be  affirmed  of 
him,  but  his  very  great  services  to  the  cause  of  science,  and  his 
acknov/ledged  great  abilities,  saved  him  from  the  otherwise  ccrlaia 
consequences  of  his  rasli  course. 

About  this  time  he  became  engaged  in  a  most  acute  controversy 
concerning  tlie  nature  of  oxynnnlntic  acid,  as  it  was  then  called, 
with  the  late  distinguished  Dr.  JIurray  of  Edinburgh.  Davy  had 
some  time  before  adopted  and  published  some  peculiar  opinions 
concerning  the  nature  of  this  substance,  and  its  near  rcl.ili\c, 
muriatic  [hydroclsloric]  acid,  but  subsequent])'-  witiidrcw  ihcm,  ai.d 
announced  tlic  important  fact — for  such  it  has  been  proved — -ilinl 
oxymurialic  acid,  which  had  been  considered  a  compound  of  mu- 
riatic acid  and  oxygen,  as  the  name  implies,  is  a  simple  subsfainr. ; 
and  that  muriatic  [hydrochloric]  acid  is  a  compound  of  this  sub- 
stance and  hydrogen.  To  the  simple  substance  he  gave  the  name 
cJdorine,  in  allusion  to  its  yellowish  green  color,  a  name  wliicii  iir:.'* 
since  been  universally  adopted.  He  sliowed  that  it  could  not  be 
decomposed  bjr  any  means  then  known,  and  thai  it  was  analoi^ous 
in  many  of  its  properties  and  relations  to  oxygen,  ■\\nU  wiArh  it 
sliould  be  classed. 

Dr.  Murray,  on  the  publication  of  these  vicvis  liy  Davy,  t-X'k 
decided  ground  against  them ;  and  nearly  all  the  leading  scieiiliix 
men  of  Europe  probably  strongly  sympathized  with  liim. 

"Opinions  more  nnexpectcd,"  says  Dr.  M.,  at  tlic  connncnocinri'.; 
of  the  controversy,  "  have  seldom  been  announced  to  eliiinisis,  ih.m 
those  lately  advaliccd  by  ?ilr.  Davy  with  regard  to  the  couslitiilioii  of 
the  muriatic  :ind  oxymuriatic  acids  ;  vi=.,  that  llic  latter  is  not  a  com- 
pound of  muriatic  acid  and  oxygen,  but  a  simple  substance,  and  lliat 
the  former  is  a  compound  of  this  substance  with  liydrogru.  'I'hi-  nmro 
general  principle  connected  with  tliesc  opinions,  tlirit  oxynuiri:ilic  :uiil 
is  like  oxygen,  an  acidii'ying  eltnicnt,  forming  willi  inllamMial>lfS  nii<l 
metals  an  extensive  series  of  analogous  compounds,  leads  still  mnro 
directly  to  the  subversion  of  the  established  chiiiiicnl  systems,  ami  to 
an  entire  revolniion  in  some  of  the  most  important  doctrines  ol  ibe 
science." — Vob  i,  p.  3:35. 

Dr.  JM.  chd  not  over-estimate  the  importance  of  tlic  opim'ons  ad- 
vanced by  Davy,  nor  the  revolution  in  chimical  science  which  thoy 
were  destined  to  produce.     He  contended  against  llicm  for  a  time 


1S41.]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  013 

with  great  ability  and  vigour,  but  the  verdict  in  favor  of  Davy, 
though  some  lime  delayed,  was  at  length  unanimous  ! 

In  1810  Davy  was  invited  to  give  a  course  of  chimical  lectures 
before  tlie  Dublin  society,  wluch  he  did  during  the  month  of  No- 
vember of  that  year,  and  for  which  he  received  from  the  society 
five  hundred  guineas,  or  a  little  more  than  two  thousand  dollars. 
He  also  gave  a  similar  course  in  Dublin  the  following  year,  and  a 
course  on  gcologj',  at  the  close  of  which  he  received  from  the 
provosts  and  fellows  of  Trinity  College  the  honorary  degTce 
of  LL.  D.  Subsequently,  on  the  8th  of  April,  1812,  he  received 
from  his  royal  highness,  the  prince  regent,  afterward  George  the 
Fourth,  the  honor  of  knighthood,  at  a  levee  held  at  Carlton  House. 

The  time  now  arrived  for  our  philosopher  to  enter  upon  quite 
ariotlier  sphere;  and  without  entirely  putting  off  the  character  of 
the  man  of  science,  to  put  on  that  of  the  gentleman.  Alluding  to 
the  event  just  now  mentioned,  Dr.  Paris  remarks  : — 

"  On  the  day  following  this  occurrence,  Sir  Humphry  delivcicd  his 
farewell  lecture  before  the  members  of  the  Royal  Inslitiilion  ;  for  he 
vv'as  on  the  eve  of  assuming  a  now  station  in  society,  which  induced 
him  to  retire  from  those  public  situations  which  he  had  long  hclJ  with 
so  much  advantage  to  the  world,  and  with  so  much  honor  to  himself. 
How  far  such  a  measure  was  calculated  to  increase  his  happiness  I 
shall  not  inqtiire  ;  but  I  am  bound  to  observe,  that  it  was  not  conucttcd 
with  any  desire  to  abandon  the  pursuit  of  science,  nor  even  to  relax  in 
his  accustomed  exertions  to  promote  its  interests.  It  was  evident, 
however,  to  his  friends,  that  other  views  of  arabuion  than  those  pre- 
sented by  achievements  in  science  had  opened  upon  his  mind  ;  the 
wealth  he  M-as  about  to  command  might  extend  the  sphere  of  his  use- 
fulness, and  evpJt  him  in  the  scale  of  society  ;  his  feelings  became 
more  aristocratic,  he  discovered  charms  in  rank  which  had  before 
escaped  him.  and  he  no  longer  viewed  patrician  distinction  with  phi- 
losophic indifference. 

"  On  the  nth  of  April,  1812,  Sir  Humphry  married  Mrs.  Apreece,  the 
widow  of  Shuckburgh  Ashby  Apreece,  Esq.,  eldest  son  of  Sir  Thomas 
Apreece  ;  this  lady  was  the  daughter  and  heiress  of  Charles  Kerr, 
Esq.,  of  Kelso,  and  possessed  a  very  considerable  fortune." — \ol.  i, 
p.  318. 

Long  before  this  time  his  friends  had  observed  widi  pain  the  ill 
effects  produced  upon  him  by  constant  and  excessive  adidation. 
The  change  that  was  taking  place  in  his  former  simple  manners  is 
first  alluded  to  by  our  author  immediately  after  his  successful 
entrance  upon  the  duties  of  his  office  in  the  theatre  of  the  Royal 
Institution.      Alluding  to  the   praise   bestowed    so  lavishly  upon 

Vol.  I.— 39 


614  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [Ooto!>cr, 

him  immediately  .after  his   first   iiUrodactory  lecture,   Dr.  P.  u- 
marks: — 

"  It  is  admitted  that  his  vanity  was  excited,  and  his  ainhiliun  rnisi'd, 
by  such  extraordinary  denionslrations  of  devotion;  that  tlie  bU)uni  of 
liis  siniphcity  was  dtilled  by  llie  breatli  of  aJidalion;  and  that,  hisin" 
ruich  of  the  native  frankness  which  constituted  tlie  £;roat  charm  of  his 
cliaracter,  he  assumed  the  garb  and  airs  of  a  man  of  fasliimi  ;  U;i  us 
not  wonder  if,  under  such  circumstances,  the  intippropriale  ro!ic  should 
not  ahvays  have  fallen  in  graceful  draperies.". . ."  On  the  5ili*  uf  Feb- 
ruary, ISO:.',  he  dined  with  Sir  Harry  Englefiehl  at  his  lioiisc  at  Black- 
heath;  and  eighteen  years  afterward,  the  worlliy  baroni't  alludi'd  lo 
his  interesting  demeanor  on  that  occasion;  in  terms  bulht-icnilv  expres- 
sive of  his  feelings — 'It  was  the  last  flash  of  exi>iring  naitnc.'" — 
A^ol.  i,  pp.  137  and  172. 

When  the  character  of  an  individual  once  begins  lo  sufler  from 
ilie  eflects  of  adulation,  it  is  not,  as  a  general  thing,  to  be  expected 
that  he  will  afterward  be  able  to  resist  the  influence  of  the  current 
that  has  already  lifted  him  from  his  moorings  and  is  bearing  liim 
onward  in  its  course.  Tlie  delicious  draught  is  too  intoxicalin'j  to 
allow  reason  to  exert  its  wonted  control ;  and  nothing  but  an  entire 
reversion  of  circumstances  can  bring  him  again  to  a  sober  view  of 
the  "  dull  realities  of  life,"  and  lead  to  that  correct  course  of  con- 
duct which  such  a  view  alone  can  produce.  A'or  is  the  cn<c  <f 
Davy  an  exception  to  this  remark.  The  unfavorable  cliaiii"'  m  h:* 
manners,  the  commenceinent  of  which  his  frieiuls  ob.;erved  witii  ^^ 
much  pain  soon  after  his  removal  to  London,  continued  lo  inrrc.-idc 
untU  little  remained  of  his  former  simplicity  of  character;  and  hi« 
marriage  with  the  lad)^  whose  name  we  have  just  iniriKiuciNl 
brought  him  into  possession  of  means  that  enabled  him  still  more 
eftcctually  than  before  to  ape  the  manners  and  customs  of  l)ic 
aristocracy.  For  this  he  was  but  poorl}'  fitted  cither  by  ediicaiion 
or  habit ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that,  declining  as  he  di'i 
to  appear  in  the  simple  character  of  the  man  of  science,  in  order 
to  assume  that  of  the  gentleman,  he  should  fail  to  receive  tli-r 
respect  that  would  have  been  due  to  either,  ^^'e  would  no',  hou- 
ever,  insinuate  that  he  was  ever  neglected  or  otherwise  tre.iie-i,  f< 
far  as  external  appearances  are  concerned,  than  with  rcsjH-r;  ;  h'll, 
presenting  himself  in  a  character  in  many  resjiecls  forfii';i  \>  ..:> 
true  one,  he  evidently  failed  to  receive  that  inward  hoin:\ge  cI  tlie 

*  His  introductory  lecture,  it  will  be  rccoUectoJ,  was  invtn  on  the  -JIM  <■( 
the  preceding  month. 

39* 


1841.]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  615 

]ieart,  that  supreme  veneration  wliicli  his  eminent  abihlics  and  im- 
portant scicnlilic  achievements  ought  to  have  commanded. 

Immediately  after  tlicir  marriage,  Sir  Ilumpliry  and  his  lady 
made  a  journey  of  several  months  through  the  Highlands  of  Scot- 
land ;  and  the  next  year,  by  the  express  permission  of  Napoleon^ 
they  visited  France  and  Italy,  and  returned  to  England  in  April, 
1815. 

Throughout  his  journey,  and  in  Paris  particularly,  he  was  re- 
ceived by  the  learned  with  the  utmost  cordiality;  and  more  than 
usual  effort  was  made  to  honor  him,  and  to  render  his  visit  in  the 
highest  degree  pleasant  and  agreeable.  They  even  elected  him  a 
corresponding  member  of  the  first  class  of  the  Imperial  Institute, 
on  the  13th  of  December,  an  honor  which  has  been  extended  to 
but  few  foreigners. 

During  his  absence,  he  prepared  and  forwarded  to  the  Royal 
Society  several  important  papers  on  the  nature  of  iodine,  then  just 
discovered,  and  some  of  its  compounds  ;  on  the  nature  of  the  dia- 
mond and  other  carbonaceous  substances  ;  and  on  the  nature  of 
the  various  substances  used  as  pigments  by  the  ancient  Greeks 
and  Romans. 

Soon  after  Davy's  return  to  his  native  countrj',  the  opportunity 
was  presented  to  him  to  do  science  and  the  cause  of  humanity  a 
great  service,  in  the  invention  of  the  safety-lamp  for  the  use  of 
workmen  in  coal  mines.  It  had  long  been  known  that  a  peculiar 
gaseous  compound  of  hydrogen  and  carbon  occasionally  forms  in 
coal  mines,  and  mixes  with  atmospheric  air  in  such  quantities  as  to 
occasion  violent  explosions  on  the  approach  of  flame,  to  the  great 
danger  of  all  who  are  in  the  mine  at  the  time.  As  the  use  of  light 
in  the  mines  is  absolutely  necessar\%  many  lives  had  been  lost  in 
this  way  within  a  few  years,  in  the  various  coal  mines  of  England  ; 
no  less  than  ninety-two  individuals  having  been  destroyed  at  one 
time  in  the  Felling  colliery  in  Sunderland.  This  led  to  the  forma- 
tion of  a  society  for  the  prevention  of  such  accidents,  who  had 
then  been  about  two  years  prosecuting  their,  thus  far,  fruitless  in- 
quiries. Almost  immediately  after  Davy's  arrival,  application  was 
made  to  him  to  engage  in  the  work,  to  which  he  returned  a  favor- 
able answer ;  and  soon  commenced  some  investigations  which  re- 
sulted in  the  invention  of  his  safety-lamp,  in  December  of  the 
same  year. 


616  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [October, 

A  great  variety  of  plans  had  been  proposed  to  accomplish  the 
desired  object,  but  as  none  of  ihcni  were  practicable,  it  will  not  be 
necessary  for  us  here  to  delay  to  describe  them ;  nor,  indeed,  will 
we  even  follow  Davy  through  his  extended  preparatory  investiga- 
tions, or  examine  his  various  ingenious  contrivances,  by  which  he 
was  enabled  more  or  less  perfectly  to  accomphsh  the  proposed 
end.  His  safety-lamp,  as  staled  above,  was  given  to  the  world  in 
December,  1S15  ;  and  so  nearly  perfect  was  its  constniction,  that 
it  has  been  found  susceptible  of  little  improvement  after  the  expe- 
rience of  twenty-five  years. 

This  lamp,  which  has  given  so  much  celebrity  to  the  name  of 
its  inventor,  and  conferred  so  much  benefit  upon  those  connected 
with  the  coal  business,  consists  simply  of  an  ordinary  lamp,  having 
its  wick  entirely  surrounded  at  a  little  distance  with  fine  wire  gauze. 
In  the  course  of  his  investigations,  Da\'V'  was  led  to  detennine 
several  important  principles  connected  with  flame  and  combustion ; 
but  the  most  important  fact  ascertained  by  him,  and  the  one  upon 
which  the  efficacy  of  his  lamp  chiefly  depends,  is  simply  this,  viz., 
that  ordinary  flame  cannot  pass  through  very  small  tubes.  Now, 
fine  wire  gauze  may  be  considered  as  a  collection  of  such  tubes, 
permitting  the  escape  of  the  light  and  accession  of  atmospheric  air 
to  support  the  combustion,  but  which  at  the  same  time  perfectly 
prevents  the  communication  of  flame  to  any  explosive  mixture  that 
may  be  without.  The  occurrence  of  such  a  mixture  in  a  mine 
is  at  once  shown  by  the  enlargement  of  the  flame  of  the  lamp, 
which  will  often  fill  the  entire  space  within  the  gauze.  The 
miner  cannot,  of  course,  continue  to  work  in  such  an  atmosphere 
as  this,  as  any  accident  to  his  lamp,  by  the  oxydation  of  the 
wire  gauze  or  other  -circumstances,  might  endanger  the  safety 
of  all  within  the  mine.  The  only  safe  course,  on  such  an  occur- 
rence, is  instantly  to  retreat,  and  take  measures  for  the  ventila- 
tion of  the  mine,  or  that  part  of  it  in  which  the  explosive  mixture 
has  collected. 

The  use  of  this  lamp  has  been  found  to  be  of  immense  pecuniary 
benefit  to  those  connected  with  the  coal  business,  and  has,  without 
question,  prevented  the  loss  of  thousands  of  lives.  Explosions  still 
occasionally  take  place,  in  consequence  of  carelessness  in  the  use 
of  the  lamp,  or  from  the  use  of  gunpowder  in  working  the  mines, 
which  is  sometimes  necessary;  it  is  said,  too,  that  unless  the  gauze 


1S41.]  Life  of  Sir  Ihimphrij  Davy.  617 

is  very  fine,  flame  may  sometimes  be  communicated  through  it  by 
a  strong  cuiTcnt  of  tlie  explosive  mixture. 

Davy,  per'naps,  more  than  any  other  philosopher  of  equal  cele- 
brity that  has  ever  lived,  in  all  his  investigations  and  inventions 
aimed  at  practical  utihty;  and  it  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that 
he  should  ever  regard  this  as  one  of  the  most  satisfactory  of  all  his 
achievements.  Some  of  the  circumstances  connected  with  it  were 
likewise  particularly  pleasing.  He  might  unquestionably  have 
realized  gi-eat  profit  from  the  invention  by  securing  a  patent;  but 
having  already  a  competency,  he  disdained  any  pecuniary  consi- 
deration, giving  all  the  free  use  of  the  lamp  who  might  be  disposed 
to  try  it.  The  proprietors,  however,  of  many  of  the  coal  mines  in 
Newcastle,  and  others  connected  with  the  coal  trade,  raised  a  sub- 
scription of  about  £1200  or  £1500,  with  which  they  procured  for 
him  a  service  of  plate,  as  "  a  testimony  of  their  gratitude"  for  the 
benefit  he  had  conferred  upon  them.  It  was  presented  to  him  at 
a  public  dinner  in  Newcastle,  September  25, 1817,  by  the  late  Earl 
of  Durham,  in  the  name  of  the  subscribers. 

Public  meetings  of  the  laborers  in  the  mines  were  also  held  in 
one  or  two  instances,  in  v\-hich  resolutions  were  passed,  testifying 
their  gratitude  to  the  man  who  had  placed  in  their  hands  the  means 
of  protecting  themselves  from  danger,  and  from  constant  apprehen- 
sion and  alarm. 

It  \\ould  be  gratifying  if  wo  could  leave  this  subject  here,  but  an 
honest  exhibition  of  truth  requires  that  a  few  additional  statements 
should  be  made. 

As  already  intimated,  when  Davy  commenced  the  investigations 
which  subsequently  led  to  the  invention  of  the  safety-lamp,  the 
subject  had  been  made  very  public,  and  had  not  failed  to  interest 
man}'  others,  who  were  bent  upon  contriving  some  means  to  remedy 
the  great  evil  complained  of.  Among  these  was  a  I\Ir.  Stephenson 
of  Killingworth — a  mechanic,  as  Dr.  Paris  remarks,  "  not  even 
professing  a  knowledge  of  the  elements  of  chimistry,"  who  seems 
to  have  constructed  a  lamp  similar  to  some  of  the  first  of  Davy's, 
and  very  nearly  at  the  same  time.  We  deem  it  a  question  of  ver)' 
little  importance  whether  one  or  the  other  may  have  been  a  day  or 
two  first  in  his  invention  in  point  of  time,  since  it  is  not  pretended 
that  either  had  any  assistance  from,  or  even  knowledge  of,  the 
other ;  and  though  Davy,  with  the  characteristic  celerity  of  all  his 


618  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [October, 

movements,  entirely  anticipated  his  rival  in  perfecting  the  construc- 
tion of  the  instrument,  and  thus  fully  entitled  himself  to  the  first 
honor,  yet  the  real  merits  of  Stephenson  should  have  been  acknow- 
ledged and  rewarded.  His  party,  in  the  controversy  that  arose, 
perhaps  claimed  too  mtich  for  him  ;  but  we  must  confess,  we  have 
never  been  able  to  contemplate  the  conduct  of  Davy's  friends,  in 
denying  him  all  claim  to  merit  in  connection  with  the  invention, 
but  with  regret,  as  being  unjust  and  oppressive.  We  have  often 
felt  quite  a  disposition  to  inquire  what  would  have  been  the  result 
had  the  distinguished  and  tided  man  of  science  and  the  obscure 
mechanic  exchanged  places  in  relation  to  the  affair  ! 

It  was  expected  by  Davy's  friends  that  the  government  would 
lake  some  notice  of  him  in  consequence  of  his  great  discoveries, 
but  nothing  of  the  kind  was  ever  done  except  to  confer  a  baronetcy 
upon  him  nearly  three  years  after  the  invention  of  his  lamp. 

The  next  subject  which  particularly  engaged  the  attention  of  our 
philosopher  was  a  plan  for  unrolling  the  ancient  manuscripts  found 
in  Herculaneum,  in  which  he  enlisted  with  much  enthusiasm. 
Having  obtained  the  ap{)robation  and  patronage  of  the  prince  regent, 
afterwcird  George  IV.,  and  other  high  officers  of  government,  he 
left  England  for  Naples  in  May,  1818,  in  order  to  put  his  plan  to 
the  test.  At  Naples  lie  for  a  time  at  least  met  with  every  encour- 
agement ;  but,  as  the  enterprise  proved  an  entire  failure,  it  is  not 
necessary  here  to  give  a  particular  description  of  the  various  pro- 
cesses by  which  lie  axpected  to  accomplish  his  purpose.  The  ob- 
ject proposed  was  one  in  which  both  science  and  literature  were 
highly  interested ;  and  in  proportion  to  its  importance,  and  the  ex- 
pectations that  had  been  raised,  was  the  mortification  of  failure.  It 
is  believed,  however,  that  his  want  of  success  is  not  to  be  attributed 
to  any  lack  of  zeal  or  of  skill  on  his  part,  but  to  the  decayed  con- 
Si  tion  of  the  pappi. 

Sir  Humphry  returned  to  his  native  country  early  in  the  year 
1820;  and  in  the  autumn  was  elected  president  of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety, an  office  which  he  continued  to  fill  till  near  the  close  of  his 
fife,  when  he  resigned  in  consequence  of  his  continued  ill  health. 

In  the  winter  of  the  year  1S19,  Professor  Oersted  of  Copenhagen 
made  his  celebrated  discovery  which  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
whole  science  of  electro-magnetism  ;  and  it  was  no  sooner  an- 
nounced, than  Davy,  with  his  cliaracteristic  ardor,  was  engaged  in 


1841.]  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Dainj.  619 

a  series  of  expcvimejits  connected  willi  the  suljjccl.  As  was  to  be 
expected  from  a  man  of  iiis  genius,  he  very  soon  determined  many- 
new  facts,  wliich  were  communicated  to  the  Royal  Society  in  sereral 
successive  papers,  the  first  of  which  was  read  November  16th, 
1820,  and  tlie  others  in  succeeding  years. 

Though  in  the  possession  of  weaUh  and  fame,  that  might  be  sup- 
posed suflicient  to  gratify  the  highest  ambition  of  the  most  aspiring, 
he  continued  to  interest  liimself  in  every  thing  whicli  concerned 
the  progress  of  science  and  the  useful  arts ;  and  did  not  hesitate 
even  to  engage  in  laborious  experiments  in  connection  with  any 
new  inquiry  of  importance  that  was  started.  Toward  the  latter 
part  of  the  year  1S23,  the  cominissioners  of  the  navy  addressed  to 
the  president  and  council  of  the  Royal  Society  an  inquiry  con- 
cerning the  best  method  of  preserving  the  copper  sheathing  of  ships 
from  corrosion  in  sea-water ;  and  a  committee  was  appointed  for 
the  purpose,  for  whom  Davy  undertook  to  make  the  necessary  in- 
vestigations. His  experiments  very  soon  suggested  a  remedy, 
which,  upon  trial  many  times,  promised  coinplcte  success  ;  and  in 
January,  1824,  he  communicated  his  views  to  government,  inform- 
ing them  he  was  prepared  to  carry  his  plan  into  effect.  Tlie  propo- 
sition was  received  with  all  the  attention  its  importance  demanded, 
and  an  order  given  that  the  plan  proposed  by  Davy  should  be 
immediatel)'  tried  under  his  own  superintendence.  As  if  to  in- 
crease the  mortification  of  ultimate  defeat,  the  first  trials  seemed  to 
indicate  the  most  complete  success  ;  and  various  means  were  taken 
to  give  it  the  greatest  possible  publicity.  But  on  suflicient  trial  it 
was  found  altogether  impracticable  ;  and  Davy,  and  those  \yho  had 
fallen  in  with  his  views,  found  themselves  in  great  error,  in  con- 
sequence of  having  drawn  too  hasty  conclusions  from  the  experi- 
ments made  ; — iii  making  up  a  decision  from  the  experience  of  a 
few  weeks  or  months,  when  that  of  years  only  could,  from  tlic  na- 
ture of  the  case,  determine  the  question.  Such  was  the  public 
confidence  in  the  success  of  the  invention,  tliat,  witliout  waiting  for 
the  issue,  it  was  adopted  at  enormous  expense  by  govcnnnent  and 
by  private  individuals,  and  continued  for  several  years,  until  its 
"  theoretical  success"  and  "  practical  inefficiency"  were  fully  csta- 
bhshed.  In  Sept.,  182S,  the  plan,  by  order  of  government,  was 
entirely  abandoned. 

We  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  enter  into  tlic  details  of  this 


620  Life  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy.  [Ocio1)cr, 

enterprise  of  Davy's,  nor  could  it  be  in  justice  entirely  omiitfj. 
Besides,  it  aftbrds  an  excellent  illustration  of  the  character  of  the 
man.  Ardent,  enterprising,  ingenious,  and  industrious,  even  at  a 
period  in  which  many  of  the  motives  that  ordinarily  actuate  the 
human  breast  may  be  supposed  lo  have  ceased  in  a  great  degree 
to  operate,  he  is  ready  to  engage  with  7.eal  in  an  undertaking  that 
is  to  require  a  great  expenditure  of  thought  and  labor.  Kclyiii" 
entirely  upon  his  own  immense  resources,  he  commences  an  entirely 
new  course  of  experiments,  settles  in  a  short  time  many  new  facts 
and  principles,  draws  his  conclusions,  with  reference  to  llie  ])ar- 
ticular  object  of  investigation,  and  with  the  utmost  confidence  is 
read)"  to  proclaim  them  to  the  world,  and  if  need  be,  to  put  llieiii  in 
practice  on  the  most  extensive  scale !  We  need  not  refer  the 
reader  to  other  instances  of  a  similar  character;  he  will  recollect 
several  we  have  related,  and  may  find  numerous  others  in  the 
"  Life"  we  are  reviewing.  If  witli  his  gixat  ingenuity  and  almo.ii 
unparalleled  keenness  of  perception,  he  estabhshed  some  most  im- 
portant new  truths,  it  is  not  certainly  to  be  wondered  al,  that  he 
also  made  some  magnificent  failures  ! 

We  now  approach  the  termination  of  the  brillinnl  carrcr  of  ihis 
illustrious  individual.  Soon  after  it  was  ascertained  tin!  hi-  plm 
for  protecting  the  copper  sheathing  of  shijjs  would  pro\f  i::  ;  ;.v-- 
ticable,  it  was  observed  that  a  degree  of  disappointment  uia!  ( ii  :ci.n 
was  produced  in  his  mind,  wholly  inconsistent,  as  Dr.  1*.  renMfks. 
with  the  merits  of  the  question.  His  general  health  beg;in  alx.  \., 
decline,  being  in  some  degree  very  probably  afleclcd  by  die  ^\\\c. 
of  his  mind.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  year,  while  ab^^cni  \\>''.n 
home,  he  was  suddenly  seized  with  apoplexy,  which,  howrv'T. 
gradually  yielded  to  remedies,  but  not  witliout  producing  a  p  siv.d 
paralysis  of  his  system.  He  however  continued  his  fuld  .-p.^rl*, 
of  which  he  was  excessively  fond,  even  after  his  strength  ii.id  ui 
far  decayed  that  he  was  obliged  to  take  a  pony  with  him  i:-.'..)  the 
field,  "from  which  he  dismoimted  only  on  the  certainly  i^f  in:.'!-:- 
diate  sport." 

Soon  after  his  jjartial  rccoveiy  from  his  apoplectic  m;!-;'  k  ■■'  ■  '<• 
noticed,  by  the  advice  of  liis  physicians,  lie  left  Ermland  l>\  I'lC 
south  of  Europe,  where  he  spent  several  montlis,  and  relunu-.l  iii 
the  autumn  of  1827,  his  health  but  little  improved  by  the  jouriit-y 

In  1828  he  again  left  England  for  the  continent,  never  lo  rtturn. 


1841.]  Life  of  Sir  Hu.mphri/  Davy.  {321 

His  last  letter  written  by  himself  was  dated  at  Rome,  February  6, 
1829,  where  he  had  been  several  months,  and  was  addressed  to 
an  early  friend  with  whom  he  had  corresponded  for  many  years, 
and  informs  him  that  in  a  precarious  state  of  health  he  is  gradually 
"  vjcaring  away  the  winter  ; — a  ruin  among  ruins."  He  however 
continued  to  attend  to  scientific  pursuits,  and  prepared  some  papers 
for  the  Royal  Society,  which  were  subsequcntl}'  published  in  their 
Transactions. 

On  the  20th  of  February  he  was  suddenly  attacked  a  second 
lime  with  apoplexy,  which  finally  proved  fatal.  As  soon  as  the 
information  reached  Lady  Davy,  who  was  at  London,  she  hastened 
to  join  him  ;  and  his  brother.  Dr.  Davy,  who  was  at  Malta,  arrived 
the  16th  of  JIarch.  As  he  was  very  desirous  to  visit  Geneva,  the 
parly  left  Rome  on  the  30th  of  April,  and  arrived  there  on  the  28th 
of  the  next  month,  where  he  breathed  his  last  early  on  ihe  morning 
of  the  following  day.  His  remains  were  honored  with  a  public 
funeral  a  few  days  afterward,  and  deposited  in  the  public  cemetery, 
where  it  is  believed  they  yet  he  interred,  a  small  tablet  only  having 
been  erected  to  his  memory  by  his  widow  in  Westminster 
Abbey. 

Thus  closed  ihe  career  of  one  of  the  greatest  philosopers  of  the 
present  age  !  It  may  have  been  remarked  by  the  reader,  that  as  yet 
we  have  said  nothing  of  his  religious  character ;  nor  indeed  have  we 
much  to  say.  At  one  time  in  early  life  he  appears  to  have  been 
skeptical  with  regard  to  religious  matters ;  but  there  is  abundant 
evidence  that  in  after  years  he  fully  believed  in  the  great  truths  of 
Christianity.  His  general  conduct,  it  is  believed,  was  in  accord- 
ance with  the  great  principles  of  morality,  and  yet  it  is  greatly  to 
be  regretted  he  would  not  hesitate  sometimes  to  start  on  a  journey 
on  the  sabbath,  or  attend  places  of  vain  amusement.  Some  of  his 
writings  arc  not  willrout  considerable  indication  of  pious  feeling ; 
and  though  there  may  be  before  the  world  httlc  evidence  that  he 
ever  felt  the  sanctifying  influence  of  experimental  religion  upon  his 
heart,  it  is  plea^^ing  to  hope,  that  having  by  faith  in  Christ  appro- 
priated to  himself  the  benefits  of  tlie  atonement,  he  who  did  so 
much  to  render  his  name  immortal  among  his  fellow  s,  may  be  now 
in  the  enjoyment  of  a  blissful  immortality  above. 

Besides  his  scientific  memoirs,  most  of  which  were  published 
in  the  Philosophical  Transactions,  he  publi.shed  his  "Elements  of 


622  Sketch  of  Patrick  Henry.  [October, 

Chimical  Pliilosopliy,"  in  1812,  and  his  "Elements  of  Agricultural 
Chimistry,  "the  following  year.  He  also,  during  the  few  last  years 
of  his  life,  prepared  two  small  works  for  the  press  of  a  more 
general  character,  the  last  of  which  was  published  after  his  dculi. 
They  are  entitled  "  Salmoiiia,  or  Days  of  Fly-fishing,"  and  "  Con- 
solations in  Travel,  or  the  Last  Days  of  a  Philosopher." 

His  various  communications  to  the  Koyal  Societj',  all  of  which 
it  is  believed  were  published  in  their  Transactions,  amount  to  the 
number  of  forty-six;  tlie  fii'st  of  which  was  read  June  18,  ISOl, 
and  the  last  November  20,  1828. 

Weslcyan  University,  April,  1841. 


V. — Patrick  Henry. 

PATracK  Henry  v/as  a  native  of  Virginia ;  and,  although  born 
of  very  respectable  and  well-educated  parents,  yet,  on  account  of 
the  loose  discipline  which  prevailed  in  the  family,  as  well  as  a 
natural  indolence  and  aversion  to  study  on  the  part  of  the  child, 
liis  early  tuition  was  very  much  neglected,  and  his  youth  was  spent 
in  the  most  listless  and  enervating  idleness.  We  hear  of  liini 
wandering,  for  days  together,  through  tlie  fields  and  woods  ;  some- 
times without  any  apparent  object,  and  sometimes  in  the  pursuit  of 
game — or,  perhaps,  stretched  on  the  green  bank  of  sonic  meander- 
ing stream,  v/atching  the  ripples  and  eddies  as  they  whirled  i\V<n's, 
or  angling  in  its  sparkling  waters. 

The  same  love  of  idleness  followed  him  into  the  pursuits  uf 
business,  where  he  exchanged  the  pleasures  of  hunting  and  angling 
for  the  melodies  of  the  flute  and  violin,  and  tales  of  love  and  war. 
With  such  a  disposition  it  is  not  surprising  that  there  was  a  fatality 
in  every  thing  he  undertook.  Before  he  was  eighteen  he  was  a 
broken  merchant;  and  immediately  after,  v/ithout  any  visible  meaiis 
of  subsistence,  without  even  bestowing  a  thought  on  the  future,  he 
became  a  husband,  and  soon  found  himself  with  a  growing  family  on 
liis  liands.  By  the  joint  assistance  of  his  father  and  father-in-law,  a 
small  farm  was  now  purchased,  and  the  future  Demosthenes  of  .^n:c- 
rica,  and  his  young  bride,  placed  upon  it,  and  fairly  launched  upon  the 
wide  world.  Two  years  served  to  wind  up  his  career  as  a  f  n-iiicr, 
and,  selling  his  land  at  a  sacrifice  to  disembarrass  himself  of  debt, 
he  vested  the  remainder  in  an  adventure  of  goods,  and  once  more 


1841.]  Sketch  of  Patrick  ncmy.  623 

tried  liis  fortune  in  trade.  His  utter  failure  in  the  course  of  aiiolhcr 
3-car  left  him  jiennyless,  and  be  sought  shelter  for  his  wife  and 
httlc  ones  at  the  liousc  of  his  fatlier-in-law,  who  kept  a  tavern  at 
Hanover  Court  House. 

But  no  misfortune  liad  power  to  disturb  Mr.  Henry's  unconquer- 
able good  nature,  or  to  break  his  spirit.  In  the  midst  of  all  the 
diflkuhies  which  now  hedged  him  in,  he  hunted  and  fished  as 
usual.  He  applied  himself  with  increased  ardor  to  liis  flute  and 
violin.  He  indulged  his  love  of  romance ;  amused  himself  with 
history ;  became  a  story  teller,  and  the  centre  of  the  social  and 
mirthful  circles  in  the  neighborhood.  At  length  the  thought  occurred 
to  him  that  he  might,  perhaps,  turn  a  penny  by  appearing  as  a 
counselor  in  the  courts  of  justice.  He  accordingly  procured  some 
books,  and  employed  a  few  weeks  in  reading  law.  He  was  in- 
dolent, ignorant,  awkward  in  his  manners,  careless  in  his  dress,  and 
coarse  in  his  whole  appearance  ;  but  his  modesty  and  good  nature 
made  him  friends,  and  after  six  weeks  of  careless  reading,  together 
with  abundant  promises  of  future  improvement,  he  was  admitted, 
at  the  age  of  twentj'-four,  to  the  Virginia  bar. 

For  the  next  three  or  four  years  Mr.  Henry  was  plunged  in 
the  deepest  poverty.  He  seems  to  have  lived  almost  entirely  on 
his  father-in-law,  and  to  have  made  himself  useful  about  the  house, 
now  waiting  on  the  customers  at  the  bar,  and  now  pursuing  his 
favorite  sports,  or  ravishing  his  soul  with  delicious  music.  Whether 
lie  appeared  at  the  courts  at  all  is  doubted,  and  if  he  did,  his  prac- 
tice afforded  him  nothing  like  a  subsistence.  But  a  brighter  day 
was  about  to  dawn  upon  his  fortunes.  The  sun  of  his  genius 
was  soon  to  arise  in  glory ;  and  the  indolent,  obscure,  and  rustic 
Henry,  hitherto  like  the  uncut  diamond,  was  to  appear  as  the 
chased  and  gorgeous  brilliant,  sparkling  with  a  thousand  hues. 

About  the  time  that  Mr.  Henry  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  a  suit 
arose  in  Virginia  which  elicited  very  general  interest.  The  Church 
of  England  was,  at  that  time,  the  established  church  of  "\'irginia, 
and  an  annual  stipend  of  sixteen  tho'jsa7id  pounds  of  tobacco  was 
]irovided  for  the  minister  of  each  parish,  by  law,  and  assessed  on 
the  planters.  The  price  of  tobacco  had,  for  many  years,  stood  at 
sixteen  sliillings  and  eight  pence  per  hundred,  but  in  consequence 
of  the  short  crop  of  1755,  it  suddenly  rose  to  two  or  three  times  its 
former  value,  and  the   planters  procured  the   passage  of  a  law, 


624  Skclch  of  Patrick  Henry.  [October, 

through  the  colonial  asscmbl}',  allowing  iheni  to  commute  all  dcbis 
due  \n  tobacco,  for  the  price  in  moncj^  which  it  iiad  hitherto  borne. 

This  act  was  limited  to  the  operations  of  that  year  only ;  but 
another  short  crop  occurring  in  1758,  the  same  law  was  re-cnactcd. 
•The  clergy  were  not  long  in  discovering  how  greatly  they  were 
losers  by  the  operations  of  this  law,  and  it  was  attacked  from 
several  quarters  through  the  press  with  gi-eat  vigor.  Rejoinders 
were  of  course  made,  and  the  excitement  became  so  great  that  the 
printers  in  Virginia  refused  to  lend  the  disputants  the  aids  of  the 
])ress.  At  length  the  circumstance  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
king,  who  immediately  took  sides  with  the  clergy,  and  because  the 
act  of  the  colonial  legislature  had  not  received  his  assent,  declared 
it  null  and  void.  Thus  supported,  the.  clerg)'  determined  to  bring 
suits  for  the  recovery  of  their  stipends  in  the  specific  tobacco, 
and  the  first  trial'  was  in  Hanover  county,  where  Mr.  Henry 
resided. 

On  the  question  of  the  validity  of  the  law  granting  the  commuta- 
tion, the  court  decided  against  the  planters,  and  Mr.  Lewis,  their 
counsel,  informed  his  clients  that  the  case  had,  in  effect,  been  de- 
cided against  them,  and  immediately  witiidrew  from  the  suit.  In 
this  exigency  they  applied  to  Mr.  Henry  to  conduct  the  trial  before 
the  jury.  It  came  on  in  December,  1763,  about  a  mouth  afiLr  l!ie 
decision  already  alluded  to  liad  been  made,  and  Mr.  lleiu y,  wb'i 
had  just  entered  on  his  twenty-eighth  year,  appeared  in  tlicir  Ijchaif. 
The  general  interest  in  the  suit  had  collected  the  people  from  all 
parts  of  the  country — the  clergy  had  assembled  in  great  numbers — 
Mr.  Henry's  owm  father  sat  upon  the  bench  as  one  of  the  judges ; 
and  he,  engaged  in  one  of  the  most  important  suits  which  had  ever 
agitated  the  colony,  was  yet  to  make  his  first  public  speech. 

Mr.  Lyons,  the  opposing  counsel,  opened  the  case  very  briefly, 
merely  explaining  the  effect  of  the  decision  already  made,  and 
closing  by  a  high-wrought  eulogy  on  the  clergy-.  Jlr.  Henry  rose 
awkwardly,  and  faltered  through  a  few  broken  sentences  in  a  man- 
ner so  loose  and  bungling,  that  his  friends  hung  their  heads  in 
shame,  and  the  clergy  exchanged  sly  looks,  and  began  to  siiii'i-  in 
anticipation  of  their  triumph.  His  father  looked  down,  his  co'or 
came  and  went,  and  he  seemed  desirous  to  sink  throiigli  llie  lloor. 
But  young  Heniy  faltered  for  a  few  moments  only.  As  he  pro- 
gressed his  courage  seemed  to  increase — his  mind,  warmed  by  the 


1841.]  Sketch  of  Patrick  Ilcnry.  625 

subject,  began  to  glow  with  thoughts  ricli  and  abundant — his 
language  settled  into  an  easy  and  graceful  flow — his  countenance 
brightened  into  beauty — his  features  were  illuminated  with  the  fire 
of  genius  which  burned  within — his  attitude  became  erect  and  lofty 
— his  action  graceful  and  commanding — his  eye  sparkled  with  in- 
tellectual ligiu — and  his  diction,  as  it  swelled  into  higher  and  niore 
commanding  periods,  rolled  on  in  all  the  majesty  of  the  ocean 
billows. 

In  less  than  twenty  minutes  the  windows,  the  benches,  the  aisles, 
were  filled  with  a  dense  crowd,  bending  forward  eagerly  to  catch 
the  magic  tones  of  his  voice,  and  fearful  lest  some  word  should 
escape  unheard.  Every  sound  was  hushed;  every  eye  was  fixed; 
ever}'  ear  was  bent.  The  mockery  of  the  clergy  was  soon  turned 
to  alarm.  They  listened  for  a  short  time  in  fixed  astonishment, 
but  when  the  young  orator  in  answer  to  the  eulogy  of  his  opponent 
turned  toward  them  and  poured  upon  them  a  torrent  of  his  earnest 
and  withering  invective,  thev  fled  from  the  room  in  apparent  terror, 
sensible  that  all  was  lost.  Tiie  jury  were  in  a  maze.  They  lost 
sight  of  both  law  and  evidence,  and  returned  a  verdict  for  the 
planters  against  the  clergy.  The  people  were  equall}'  overcome 
by  the  brihiant  burst  of  native  eloquence  M-hich  they  had  witnessed, 
and  no  sooner  was  the  fate  of  the  cause  finally  scaled,  than  they 
seized  him  at  the  bar,  and  in  spite  of  his  own  exertions,  and  tlie 
cry  of  "  order"  from  the  court,  bore  him  in  triumph  on  their 
shoulders  about  the  yard. 

From  this  moment  Mr.  Heviry  became  the  idol  of  the  people 
wherever  he  was  known.  He  was  immediately  retained  in  all  the 
suits  similar  to  that  which  had  just  been  decided,  but  none  of  them 
ever  came  to'trial.  In  a  year  from  the  following  May,  he  was  re- 
turned to  the  house  of  burgesses.  He  was  elected  to  supply  a 
vacanc_y  occasioned  by  a  resignation,  and  took  his  seat  about  a 
month  before  the  close  of  the  session  for  1765.  Society  in  Vir- 
ginia was  at  this  time  marked  by  the  same  broad  distinctions  which 
existed  in  Europe.  Large  tracts  of  land,  acquired  at  the  first  set- 
tlement of  the  country,  had  been,  by  the  law  of  entails,  perpetuated 
in  certain  families,  who  had  arisen  in  consequence  to  a  degree  of 
opulence,  and  lived  in  a  style  of  splendor,  little  inferior  to  the 
nobility  of  the  old  world.  The  younger  members  of  these  families, 
togctlier  willi  others  from  the  ranks  of  the  people  who  had  arisen 


626  Sketch  of  Patrick  Ilcnnj.  [October, 

by  their  talents,  constituted  a  second  rank,  which  had  all  the  pride 
of  the  fust  without  their  weallli.  The  great  body  of  tlie  people  was 
composed  of  the  smaller  land  holders,  who  looked  up  to  the  orders 
above  them  with  all  that  deference  and  respect  which  is  so  cha- 
raclcristic  a  trait  in  aristocratic  countries. 

These  distinctions  liad,  of  course,  found  their  way  into  the  legis- 
lative hall.  The  house  of  burgesses,  when  Mr.  Henry  entered  it, 
besides  the  great  weight  of  talent  which  it  possessed,  was  so  in- 
trencjied  about  with  imposing  forms  as  to  make  it  one  of  the  most 
dignified  bodies  in  the  world.  The  effect  of  this  was  altogether  in 
favor  of  the  aristocratic  members,  to  whom  it  stood  instead  of 
talent,  and  who,  in  consequence  of  the  great  deference  paid  them 
by  the  lower  orders  in  the  house,  were  enabled  to  sway  its  pro- 
ceedings almost  at  pleasure.  Besides,  it  really  possessed  great 
intellectual  weight.  John  Robinson,  the  speaker,  and  also  trea- 
surer of  the  colony,  was  not  only  one  of  the  richest  men  in  tlie 
commonwealth,  but  also  a  man  of  much  ability,  and  had  held  his 
dignified  office  for  twenty-five  years.  Next  to  him  in  rank  was 
Peyton  Randolph,  the  king's  attorney-general,  adistingtiishcil  orntcr 
and  an  eminent  lawyer.  Then  followed  a  constellation  of  brilliant 
intellects — Richard  Bland,  Edmund  Pendleton,  Rirli;ird  Henry 
Lee,  George  Wythe,  and  otiiers. 

Such  was  the  house,  and  such  its  galaxy  of  statcsnicn  v.!i.^;i 
Mr.  Henrj'-,  young,  inexperienced,  with  all  his  rustic  simplicity, 
and  fresh  from  the  ranks  of  the  yeomanry,  first  took  his  .>;eat.  Tiic 
great  question  of  taxation  had  just  begun  to  be  agitated  in  the  British 
cabinet ;  and  at  the  previous  session  of  the  burgesses,  some  feeble  re- 
monstrances had  beendrawn  upand  forwarded  to  the  mother  country. 
It  was  supposed  that  the  subject  would  be  again  called  up  by  t!ic 
present  house,  in  which  case  it  was  expected  by  Mr.  Henry's  con- 
stituents, that  he  would  sustain  any  measures  calculated  to  defeat 
the  project  of  stamp  duties.  But  it  seems  that  the  leaders  of  the 
house  were  not  disposed  to  take  any  further  action  on  the  subject, 
and  Mr.  Henry,  with  that  characteristic  independence  which  marked 
Lis  whole  career,  after  having  waited  till  within  three  days  of  the 
close  of  the  session,  introduced  a  series  of  resolution.^,  boldly  de- 
nying the  right  of  England  to  tax  America,  and  declaring  that  such 
taxation  had  a  manifest  tendency  to  dcslruy  holh  British  and  Ayne- 
rican  freedom. 


1841.]  Sketcli  of  Patrick  Heiuy.  627 

Mr.  Henry  had  held  his  scat  about  three  weeks,  and  was  still 
a  stranger  to  most  of  the  members,  when,  without  consultation 
with  more  than  two  persons,  unsupported  b}'  ihe  influential  mem- 
bers, and  dependent  only  on  his  own  resources,  lie  thus  introduced 
a  measure  wliich  looked  with  a  severe  scrutiny  into  the  right 
of  taxation,  now,  for  the  first  time,  claimed  by  the  British  king. 
The  efi'ect  was  like  the  sudden  eruption  of  a  volcano.  At  first  an 
attempt  was  made  to  frown  it  down  by  a  stately  array  of  dignified 
influence  ;  but  one  dash  of  Mr.  Henry'.s  eloquence  put  an  end  to 
tills  by-play  and  brought  out  against  him  all  the  power  of  the  house. 
Tlie  debate  waxed  hotter  and  hotter,  and  the  young  orator  nerved 
himself  to  the  miglity  conflict.  He  wielded  a  blade  of  the  best- 
tempered  Damascus  steel,  and  dashed  into  the  ranks  of  veteran 
statesmen  with  such  steadiness  and  power  as  scattered  their  trained 
legions  to  the  winds.  The  contest  on  the  last  and  boldest  resolu- 
tion, to  borrow  the  strong  language  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  "was  most 
bloodj',"  but  it  was  finally  carried  by  a  single  vote. 

Such  is  the  history  of  that  important  measure  which  moved  the 
whole  continent,  and  gave  the  first  impulse  to  the  ball  of  the  revo- 
lution. Some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  feeling  which  prevailed 
in  the  house  at  the  time,  from  the  fact  that  Peyton  Randolj^h,  as 
he  passed  through  the  door  after  the  adjournment,  exclaimed  to  a 
friend,  with  an  oath,  "  I  would  have  given  five  hundred  guineas  for 
a  single  vole." 

The  feeling  of  opposition  to  British  taxation  which  Mr.  Henry 
had  thus  aroused,  spread,  as  if  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  from  one 
end  of  the  continent  to  the  other.  The  spark  which  he  had  struck 
found  a  kindred  fire  in  every  bosom  :  the  impulse  was  caught  by 
otlier  colonics ;  his  resolutions  were  everywhere  adopted  with 
progressive  variations  ;  and  a  whole  people  were  startled,  as  if  by 
magic,  into  an  attitude  of  determined  hostility.  In  New-England, 
especially,  was  the  outbreak  of  popular  feeling  most  fearfully 
strong ;  and  when,  in  the  following  November,  the  stamp  act,  ac- 
cording to  its  provisions,  was  to  have  gone  into  eflect,  its  execution 
liad  become  utterly  impracticable. 

It  was  during  the  splendid  debate  which  arose  on  these  resolu- 
tions that  Mr.  Henry,  while  rolling  along  in  one  of  those  sublime 
strains  which  characterized  his  fervid  eloquence  when  under  high 
excitement,  exclaimed  with   a  voice  which  partook   of  the  lofty 


628  Slrtch  of  Patrick  Ilcnnj.  [Octuhrr, 

impulses  of  his  soul : — "  Cesar  had  liis  Brulus — Charles  the  Tirsi 
liad  his  Crom\vcll — and  George  the  Tliird" — he  was  interrupted 
by  the  cry  of  treason,  from  the  speaker's  chair.  Treason  !  Trea- 
son !  echoed  front  every  part  of  llie  house.  Tjie  starllinL^  cry 
llirillcd  like  electricity  on  the  nerves  of  die  house,  and  every  eye 
was  ttirned  on  the  inspired  orator.  He  paused  only  to  connnand  a 
loftier  attitude,  a  firmer  voice,  a  more  determined  manner,  and 
fixing  Ids  eye  of  fire  on  the  speaker,  he  proceeded  : — "  and  CcorL'o 
the  Third — may  profit  by  their  example.  If  this  be  treason,  malvC 
the  most  of  it." 

Tlie  theme  of  liberty,  which  had  thus  drawn  out  llie  liii;hcr 
qualities  of  Mr.  Henry's  eloquence,  now  became  the  Uienie  of 
the  nation.  The  mother  country,  forgetful  alike  of  the  duties  and 
feelings  of  a  parent, — forgetful  of  the  lessons  inculcated  by  her  own 
past  history,  and  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  national  freedom, 
— was  bent  on  reducing  her  colonies  to  the  most  humiliating  terms. 
Aroused  at  length  to  the  common  danger,  and  drawn  together  by 
the  common  cause,  they  appointed  a  general  congress  of  statesmen, 
to  devise  means  for  resisting  the  encroachments  on  their  liberlie?, 
and  to  this  augiisl  body,  Virginia  sent  her  most  distinguished  sons. 
]\Ir.  Henry  was  of  tlie  number,  and  was  now  brought  in  contict 
with  the  most  cidightened  men  of  the  new  world. 

The  meeting  of  this  congress  formed  anew  epoch  in  the  hi^tiiy 
of  America.  It  was  the  leading  idea  of  tiiis  great  and  miiteii  x-- 
public.  The  members  had  been  called  together  to  cuanl  the 
interests  of  a  rising  nation.  But  how  were  they  to  act?  What  wa.«  to 
be  the  course  of  their  measures?  What  was  to  be  tlie  result  of  ums 
leagued  opposition  to  the  British  king?  The  awful  rcsponsihiiiiy 
which  they  had  assumed  seems  to  have  struck  them  in  all  its  over- 
whelming force,  when  the  great  business  of  the  convention  \v.is 
about  to  be  opened,  and  it  fell,  like  an  incubus,  upon  their  .-Jpoi'..--. 
A  deep  and  solemn  pause  followed  the  organization  of  the  iiuUM 
a  pause  pregnant  with  the  fate  of  America — perhaps  of  llie  world. 

Who  among  this  great  body  of  enlightened  statesmen  is  U>  n:\ 
away  the  stone— to  unloose  the  seals— to  break  the  fetter.s  uiiich 
have  thus  manacled  this  august  assemblage  ?  The  task  fall.'*  up-  !> 
the  plebeian  rustic  whom  we  have  seen  roaming  tlic  forests  wiili  l:n 
gun  ;  scouring  the  creeks  with  his  andinix  rud  ;  waiting  ou  t'sc 
customers  of  an  obscure  tavern  at  llanovor.     He  arose  slowly,  as 


1841.]  Sketch  of  Patuck  Henry.  629 

if  borne  dou-n  h\  the  weight  of  liis  subject,  and,  fahcring  throiigli  an 
impressive  exordium,  launched  forth  gradually  into  a  recital  of  the 
colonial  wrongs.  The  subject  was  great,  tlie  field  was  vast ;  but 
Mr.  Hciirj-'s  powers  were  equal  to  the  occasion.  His  counte- 
nance, illuminated  by  the  fire  of  that  genius  which  burned  within, 
shone  with  almost  suj)crhuman  lustre.  His  eye  was  steady ;  his 
action  noble ;  his  diction  commanding ;  his  enunciation  clear  and 
distinct ;  his  mind,  inspired  by  the  greatness  of  his  subject,  glowed 
witli  its  richest  treasures  ;  and,  as  he  swept  proudly  forward  in  his 
high  argument,  even  that  assemblage  of  mighty  intellects  were 
struck  with  astonishment  and  awe.  He  sat  down  amid  murmurs 
of  admiration  and  applause.  The  convention  was  nerved  to  the 
point  of  action  ;  and  as  he  had  been  proclaimed  the  greatest  orator 
of  Virginia,  he  was  now  admitted  to  be  the  first  orator  in 
America. 

On  the  20th  of  May,  1775,  after  the  meeting  of  the  first  con- 
gress, and  when  the  country  was  almost  in  open  arms,  Virginia 
held  her  second  convention.  Hitherto  the  opposition  to  the  minis- 
terial measures,  in  all  public  bodies,  had  been  respectful,  and  liad 
looked  only  to  a  peaceful  adjustment  of  the  questions  which  divided 
the  two  countries.  But  the  quick  eye  of  Blr.  Henry  had  seen  that 
there  must  be  an  end  to  this  temporizing  policy,  and  that  the  spirit 
of  legislation  should  be  made  to  keep  pace  with  the  movements  of 
the  public  mind,  ^^^lcn,  therefore,  the  convention  opened  with 
propositions  for  new,  and  still  more  humble  pelhions,  tlic  blood  of 
the  patriot  warmed  in  his  veins,  and  he  determined  to  meet  these 
propositions  at  once  and  nip  them  in  the  bud.  In  pursuance  of 
this  determination,  he  offered  a  series  of  resolutions  for  arming  and 
equipping  the  militia  of  the  colony.  Tliis  measure  threw  the  con- 
vention into  the  utmost  consternation,  and  it  was  hotly  opposed 
from  eveiy  side,  by  all  the  most  weighty  and  influential  mem- 
bers, as  rash,  precipitate,  and  desperate.  Some  of  the  firmest 
patriots  in  the  house,  and,  among  the  number,  several  of  the  most 
distinguished  members  of  the  late  congress,  brought  all  the  power 
of  their  logic,  as  well  as  the  weight  of  their  inlluence,  against  it. 
Indeed,  Mr.  Wirt  informs  us  that  the  shock  produced  upon  the 
house  was  so  great  as  to  be  painful. 

Under  these  circumstances  most  men  would  have  quailed  before 
the  storm,  and  compromised  with  his  opponents  by  withdrawing 

Vol.  I.— 40 


630  Sketch  of  Palrick  Ihnry.  [October, 

the  resolutions.  Not  so  witli  ^Ir.  Henry.  If  lie  had  cluifcd  the 
billows  into  commotion,  they  were  the  clement  of  his  glory,  and  he 
rode  most  proudly  when  the  storm  bc;it  in  its  wildest  fury.  lie 
entered  upon  the  discussion  clad  in  his  heaviest  armor.  His  words 
dropped  not  from  his  lips  like  the  dew,  but  they  were  poured  forth 
like  the  mountain  torrent,  whirling,  foaming,  sparkling,  leaping  on, 
in  their  deep  path  of  passion,  and  sweeping  away  in  their  course 
the  feeble  impediments  which  had  been  raised  to  obstruct  his 
progi-ess.  ITc  rolled  along  as  if  borne  by  some  mighty  and 
irresistible  influence,  now  "dazzling,  burning,  striking  down,"  now 
bursting  forth  with  such  rhapsodies  of  patriotic  feeling  as  set  ilic 
house  in  a  blaze,  and  fired  their  souls  for  action. 

It  was  during  this,  his  most  masterly  effort,  that  the  fearful 
alternative  of  war  was  first  publicly  proclaimed.  "  If,"  said  the 
inspired  statesman,  "we  wish  to  be  free — if  we  mean  to  preserve 
inviolate  those  inestimable  privileges  for  which  we  have  been  so 
long  contending — if  we  mean  not  basely  to  abandon  the  noble 
struggle  in  which  we  have  been  so  long  engaged,  and  which  wo 
have  pledged  ourselves  never  to  abandon  until  the  glorious  object 
of  our  contest  shall  be  obtained,  we  must  fight ! — I  rejieat  it,  ^ir, 
we  must  fight !  !  An  appeal  to  arms,  and  to  the  God  of  liosis,  is 
all  that  is  left  us  !" 

And  again — "It  is  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matlcr.  Geiitlr- 
men  ma\-  cry  peace,  peace,  but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war  is 
actually  begun  !  the  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north  will  W\ns, 
to  our  cars  the  clash  of  resounding  arms  !  Our  brethren  arc  already 
in  the  field  !  Why  stand  we  here  idle  ?  What  is  it  that  gentle- 
men would  have  ?  Is  life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be 
purchased  at  the  price  of  chains  and  slavcrj'?  Forbid  it,  Alnii.'ility 
God  ! — I  know  not  what  course  others  may  take  ;  but  as  for  in'-," 
cried  he,  with  both  his  arms  extended  aloft,  his  brows  knit,  ai:d 
evciy  feature  marked  with  the  resolute  purpose  of  his  soul,  "  ci'.e 
me  liberty,  or  give  me  death." 

He  sat  down,  but  no  murmur  of  applause  followed.  It  ^v•■.» 
evident  that  the  deep  feelings  of  patriotism  were  stirred  in  CM.-'y 
breast.  "  After  the  trance  of  a  moment,"  says  Mr.  ^^  iu,  "  M-v«.-t;il 
members  started  from  their  seats.  The  cry,  To  vrms.  seemed  to 
quiver  on  every  lip  and  glance  from  every  eye."  The  resolutions 
were  adopted — the  colony  was  armed — the  country  was  aroused  to 
40*  . 


1S41.]  Sketch  nf  Patrick  Ilcnnj.  631 

more  vigorous  action,  and  the  next  gale  that  swept  from  the  north, 
brought,  indeed,  the  clash  of  rcsoiinduig  arms.  Blood  had  been 
poiircd  out  at  Lexington,  and  the  great  drama  of  the  revolution 
was  opened,  to  close  only  with  the  freedom  and  independence  of 
America. 

Mr.  Henr}'  soon  after  this  was  appointed  commander-in-chief  of 
the  Virginia  troops,  a  place  which  he  held,  however,  only  for  a 
short  period.  He  was  the  first  republican  governor  of  his  native 
state,  and  was  elected  to  that  high  oiSce  for  three  successive  years, 
when  he  became  ineligible  by  the  constitution.  He  was  subse- 
quently several  times  elevated  to  the  same  commanding  station. 
He  held  a  prominent  place  in  the  public  councils  during  the  whole 
of  the  war,  and,  indeed,  through  the  greater  part  of  his  hfc.  He 
was  a  most  vigorous  opponent  of  the  federal  constitution,  and  had 
well  nigh  prevented  its  adoption  by  the  Virginia  convention.  The 
department  of  stale  was  offered  to  him  by  President  Washington, 
and  he  was  appointed  minister  to  France  by  President  Adams,  both 
of  which  places  he  declined  to  accept.  He  finished  his  useful  and 
glorious  career  on  the  6th  of  June,  1799,  in  the  sixt)--third  year 
of  his  age. 

Mr.  Hcnrj'  was  strict  in  his  morals,  and  pure  in  his  language. 
It  is  believed  he  was  never  known  to  take  the  name  of  his 
Maker  in  vain.  He  was  amiable  and  modes't  in  liis  deportment — 
an  affectionate  and  indulgent  parent — an  amusing  companion,  and 
a  faithful  friend.  During  his  last  illness  he  said  to  a  friend,  stretch- 
ing otit  toward  him  his  hand,  which  contained  an  open  Bible,  "  Here 
is  a  book  worth  more  than  all  the  other  books  that  were  ever 
printed ;  yet  it  is  my  misfortune  never  to  have  found  time  to  read 
it  with  the  proper  attention  and  feeling,  till  lately.  I  trust  in  the 
mercy  of  Heaven  that  it  is  not  yet  too  late." 

As  a  statesman  Mr.  Henry  wanted  that  patient  industry  which 
no  genius  can  ever  fully  supply.  Bright  as  was  his  cai-cer,  it 
would  have  been  vastly  more  glorious  but  for  his  unconquerable 
aversion  to  laborious  study.  \^'hen  his  mind  was  nerved  up  to  its 
full  strength,  it  seems  to  have  been  equal  to  any  effort,  however 
commanding ;  but  when  he  had  given  any  great  enterprise  its  first  im- 
pulse, his  work  was  done,  and  he  became  "weak  like  another  man." 
He  could  not  bear  the  toil  and  drudgery  of  the  great  world.  His 
light  was  that  of  the  meteor  which  blazes  through  the  darkness,  and 


632  Critical  Notices.  [OcloLcr, 

not  the  steady  Learns  of  llic  patient  sun.  He  seems  to  liave  grasped 
his  subject  by  intuition,  and  when  once  his  stand  was  taken,  there 
was  no  licsilation,  no  doubt,  no  wavering,  but  his  convictions  were 
settled  principles,  and  he  marched  forward  to  iiis  object  with  as 
much  certainty  as  though  he  had  worked  it  out  by  the  rules  of 
mathematics.  This  prescience  gave  him  a  most  commanding  ad- 
vantage, and  is  the  great  secret  of  liis  success.  With  a  modesty 
which  was  so  great  as  to  be  a  feature  in  his  character,  we  behold 
liim  giving  the  first  impulse  to  the  revolution,  sounding  the  first 
battle  cry,  and  leading  the  first  military  expedition  in  Virginia.  Had 
his  industry  been  equal  to  the  powers  of  his  mind,  he  would  have 
lield  no  second  place  in  the  annals  of  his  country.  As  it  was,  jiis 
career  was  one  of  dazzhng  brilliancy,  and  he  justly  ranks  among 
the  highest  ornaments  and  noblest  benefactors  of  his  country. 


Art.  VII.-CRITICAL   NOTICES. 

1.  The  Life  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Wesley,  M.  A.,  some  lime  Slu,hnl  cf 
Christ's  Church,  Oxford :  coinprising  a  Reciew  of  his  Pv  lr\j  ; 
Sketches  of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  Methodism;  with  N'olices  of  ri>n- 
temporary  Events  and  Characters.  By  Thomas  Jacksox.  In  l«o 
volumes.  London  :  Pubiislied  by  John  Mason,  at  tho  Wcblcyia 
Conference  Office.    IS-U. 

The  above  work  from  the  official  press  of  tlie  Wesleyan  Mcibodist 
connection  has  just  been  received.  Though  v,-c  have  not  yel  h;i'\  limo 
to  peruse  these  volumes,  yel,  from  reading  the  preface,  and  a  h;isly 
glance  at  several  leading  and  imporlant  topics,  we  arc  full  of  exfirtu- 
tion  that  the  work  will  exceed  in  interest  any  thing  we  liave  seen  Irom 
the  British  INIethodist  press  for  a  long  time  past. 

Most  of  us  have  supposed  that  every  tlung  calculuted  to  throw  li-lit 
upon  the  history  and  character  of  the  Wesleys  had  long  since  W<n 
used  up.  But  to  our  no  small  surprise  and  gratification,  we  niccl  v  uli 
two  hea\y  octavos  principally  made  up  from  the  papers  of  .Mr.  (•. 
Wesley,  which  had  been  carefully  kept  by  his  daughter,  and  stran;;<-ly 
]ud  from  the  view  of  those  only  who  were  competent  to  do  fu!l  jii.-u.:c 
to  the  memory  of  her  sainted  father.  After  the  death  of  -M iss  ^^  oKy, 
it  seems,  the  conference  purchased  the  papers,  and  through  liic  fcride 
and  powerful  pen  of  Mr.  Jackson  these  materials  have  been  reduced 
to  the  order,  and  given  to  the  world  in  the  form,  in  which  we  now 
have  them. 


1841.]  Critical  Notices.  633 

Wc  shall  immediately  commence  an  examination  of  this  great,  and, 
as  we  suppose,  truly  interesting  and  instructive  work,  preparatory  to 
the  publication  of  an  edition  from  the  Methodist  press  in  New- York, 
which  we  have  no  doubt  will  be  done  with  all  convenient  dispatch. 

Those  on  the  one  hand  who  believe  in  the  validity  of  Mr.  Wesley's 
ordinations  for  America,  and  those  on  the  other  wlio  denounce  our 
episcopacy  as  "  spurious,"  and  have  pressed  Mr.  Charles  Wesley  into 
their  service,  will  wait  with  no  little  anxiety  to  see  what  light  his 
private  papers  reflect  upon  his  real  and  mature  views  on  that  subject. 
Whether  Mr.  C.  Wesley  was  in  all  respects  a  genuine  high  Church- 
man, v.e  shall  now  probably  be  able  to  determine  with  certainty. 


2.  Delineation  of  Roman  Catholicism,  drawn  from  the  authentic  and  ac- 
knowledged Standards  of  the  Chvrch  of  Rome  :  namdij,  her  Creeds, 
Catechisms,  Decisions  of  Councils,  Papal  Bulls,  Roman  Catholic 
Writers,  the  Records  of  Ilislory,  etc.,  etc.:  in  lohich  the  peculiar  Doc- 
trines, Morals,  Government,  and  Usages  of  the  Church  of  Rome  arc 
stated,  treated  at  large,  and  confuted.  By  Rev.  Ctiarles  Elliott, 
D.  D.    Vol.  II,  8vo.     New- York  :  Published  by  G.  Lane.    1841. 

We  are  happy  to  have  upon  onr  table  in  time  for  notice  in  this 
number,  the  second  volume  of  Dr.  Elliott's  work  on  Romanism.  The 
work  is  one  of  great  labor  and  of  great  merit.  Any  one  who  wishes 
to  understand  the  controversy  which  has  been  •  in  progress  between 
Romanists  and  Protestants  from  the  days  of  Luther  to  the  present,  and 
who  wishes  to  see  the  evidence  of  the  real  character  of  the  Romish 
heresy  from  the  most  authentic  sources,  cannot  fail  to  be  gratified  by 
the  perusal  of  Dr.  E.'s  volumes. 

The  present  volume  is  divided  into  two  books  ;  the  first  treats  of 
the  "  government  of  the  Church  of  Rome,"  and  the  second  of  "  miscel- 
laneous doctrines,  usages,"  &c.  In  the  first  our  author  investigates 
the  character  of  the  church,  the  claims  and  prerogatives  of  general 
councils,  and  the  supremacy  of  the  pope.  And  in  the  second  he  treats 
of  the  cclihacy  of  the  clergy,  and  the  imrship  of  saints. 

A  leading  object  of  the  author  is  to  show,  from  Romish  authorities, 
what  the  real  doctrine  of  the  Church  of  Rome  is  on  these  points.  This 
is  most  of  all,  in  relation  to  Romanism,  what  we  at  the  present  want 
to  know.  Where  the  Bible  is  critically  studied  in  the  original  lan- 
guages by  a  multitude  of  scholars,  and  is  circulated  among  the  people 
without  restraint,  the  anti-scriptural  dogmas  of  Romanism  only  need 
to  be  seen  and  properly  identified,  to  meet  with  the  universal  reproba- 
tion of  all  who  are  not  stupified  by  the  monster's  poison. 


G34  Critical  Notices.  [October 

Such,  however,  are  the  Jesuitical  arts  practiced  by  Roinisli  priests 
in  the  defense  of  their  doctrines  and  usages,  that  it  should  not  bo  con- 
sidered a  work  of  supererogation  to  enter  into  the  argument  with  them 
as  our  author  has  done.  Both  as  it  respects  the  data  by  which  the  true 
doctrines  of  the  Romish  Church  are  to  be  identified,  and  the  best  mode 
of  refuting  them,  the  volumes  before  us  conslhute  a  text  book  of  ines- 
timable value,  and  one  which  every  student  of  the  controversy  ous;ht 
to  have  in  his  library.  Wc  shall  reserve  what  further  it  would  be 
proper  to  say  upon  the  work  before  us,  for  a  complete  review  which 
we  propose  to  give  it  in  a  future  number. 


3.  Incidents  of  Travel  in  Central  America,  Chiapas,  and  Yticatan.  I)y 
JoH.N-  L.  Stephens,  author  of  "  Incidents  of  Travel  in  E;^'\-]il,  Ara- 
bia Pctraja,  and  the  Holy  Laud."  Two  volumes,  8vo.  New-York  ; 
Harper  &  Brothers. 

Probably  nothing  that  we  may  say  of  these  remarkable  volumes  will 
either  procure  for  them  a  single  additional  reader,  or  have  nnich  in- 
fluence in  the  formation  of  an  opinion  concerning  them ;  for  their 
popularity  has  been  so  immense,  the  curiosity  to  become  arqiiaiuied 
with  their  contents  so  universal,  and  the  sale  has  been  so  rxoeii!- 
ingly  extensive,  that  few  probably  will  read  our  notice  who  li.-ivc 
not  previously  read  Mr.  Stephens's  book,  and  formed  lb-  ir  o»ij 
judgment  of  the  wonders  it  relates.  A  rich  and  curious  woik  it  i;n- 
questionably  is,  and  teeming  v.'iih  matter  of  the  liighcst  interest  to  almost 
every  class  of  students,  inquirers,  and  observers.  Faulty,  doubllc.":s,  in 
some  respects — not  profound  enough  in  disquisition  on  any  of  the  mul- 
titudinous subjects  worthy  of  note  that  were  presented  for  the  author's 
examination — chargeable  at  tiines  with  a  levity  of  thought  and  exi<ris- 
sion  wliich,  however  amusing  to  many  readers,  is  not  much  to  ilio 
taste  of  such  as  read  to  learn  rather  than  to  be  amused — open  aUo  to 
the  imputation  of  a  latitude  in  describing  certain  ir^cidents  and  objei-l!.. 
which  borders  too  closely  on  indelicacy — but,  with  all  these  ami  sonic 
other  objectionable  features,  still  a  work  of  remarkable  atlracliou,  and 
highly  creditable  to  the  author,  for  whom  it  has  secured  uuich  inrreasc 
to  a  most  flattering  reputation. 

The  general  character  of  the  book  must  be  already  known  to  .ibuc*! 
every  one  in  this  country  who  ever  reads,  or  knows  any  thin;;  of  ImiAi  ; 
for  where  the  volumes  themselves  have  not  yet  found  their  w.iy,  the 
daily,  weekly,  and  monthly  publications  have  borne  copious  notices 
of  their  contents,  generally  accompanied  by  liberal  extracts,  'i'lic  por- 
tion—and it  is  a  large  one— devoted  to  the  extraordinary  anii'imties 


1841.]  Critical  Notices.  635 

of  Mexico  and  of  Central  America,  lias  naturally  attracted  tlie  most  gene- 
ral attention ;  and  witliout  doubt  the  descriptions  of  these  mysterious 
remains  given  by  Mr.  Stephens,  with  the  admirable  and  evidently  most 
faithful  representations  of  them  furnished  by  Mr.  Cathorwood,  are  of 
a  nature  at,  once  highly  to  excite  and  lo  gratify  curiosity.  But  we 
must  confess  that  we  have  followed  Mr.  Stephens  with  more  interest 
in  his  sketchy,  but  graphic  and  ver)r  "  incidental"  notices  of  the  coun- 
tries through  W'hich  he  passed  ;  his  life-like  pictures  of  the  inhabitants 
in  their  social  and  political  condition,  their  manners,  occupations, 
wars,  amusements,  and,  above  all,  in  their  religion.  Pictures,  strange 
in  many  aspects,  curious  in  all,  in  some  far  from  displeasing,  but  in 
too  many  altogether  lamentable.  The  religion  of  these  people,  if  such 
it  may  be  called,  as  exhibited  by  Mr.  Stephens,  we  have  examined 
■with  deep  and  painful  interest ;  a  religion — or  rather  a  substitute  for 
religion — so  purely  a  S3'stem  of  externals ;  so  dark ;  so  destitute  of 
true  gospel  light ;  so  childish  in  its  observances  ;  so  utterly  incapable 
of  exercising  any  power  for  good  over  the  spiritual  nature  and  the 
conduct  of  its  votaries.  Among  them,  perhaps  more  strongly  than 
among  any  other  people  bearing  the  name  of  Christians,  is  exhibited  the 
tendency  of  the  Romish  faith  lo  bring  the  minds  and  bodies  of  the  laity 
into  a  slavish  subjection  to  the  priests.  The  very  essence  of  religion 
in  these  countries  seems  to  be  to  obey  the  "  padre"  in  all  things. 
This,  and  the  duty  of  securing  to  him  a  bounteous  provision  not  only 
of  the  necessities  but  also  of  the  luxuries  of  life,  appear  to  be  two 
great  elements  of  the  religious  code  ;  the  third  and  only  remaining 
one  being  the  duty  of  attending  to  the  festivals  of  the  innumerable 
"saints"  that  throng  the  Roman  calendar,  which,  being  nothing  more 
than  so  many  occasions  for  merry-making  and  display,  are  of  course 
agreeable  enough  to  a  people  ignorant,  thoughtless,  careless,  passion- 
ately fond  of  amusement,  idolizers  of  finery,  and  enjoying  a  soil  and 
climate  M-hieh  make  the  toil  of  providing  for  the  wants  of  life  but  little 
more  than  nominal.  It  is  but  just  to  say,  however,  that  the  "  padres," 
as  described  by  i\Ir.  Stephens,  seem  not  always  to  abuse  the  almost 
unlimited  power  they  enjoy.  He  represents  them  as  often  kiiKl,  hos- 
pitable, simple-minded,  aflectionate  to  their  people,  and  ever  ready  to 
supply  the  physical  wants  of  all  around  them  ;  and  if  we  could  forget 
the  wretched  state  of  spiritual  destitution  in  which  their  ministry 
leaves  the  souls  committed  to  their  charge,  some  of  the  most  pleasing 
pictures  drawn  by  Mr.  Stephens  would  be  those  of  the  padres  in  the 
numerous  villages  through  which  ho  passed,  in  their  personal  charac- 
ters, their  modes  of  life,  and  their  manner  of  intercourse  with  the  inha- 
bitants, who  look  up  to  them  on  all  occasions  for  instruction  and  advice. 


636  Critical  Notices.  [October, 

4.  Life  and  Times  of  Red  Jacket,  or  Sa-go-i/e-wai-ha :  leing  ilie  Scgticl 

to'the  History  of  the  Six  Nations.     By  William  L.  Stonk.     "  Hu- 

maiii  nihil  alieinim."     New-Yorlc  and  London :  AYiley  &  Putnam. 

1841.     8vo.,  pp.  484. 

Tub  volume  whose  title  we  have  given  above,  is  one  of  a  series  by 
the  author,  giving  an  account  of  the  Iroquois  confederacy  from  the 
discovery  of  America  down  to  1838.  The  first  of  the  series,  the  Life 
of  Brant,  lias  been  for  some  time  before  the  public.  The  two  which 
remain  are  the  Life  and  Times  of  Sir  William  Johnson,  and  the  early 
History  of  the  Six  Nations.  The  whole  plan  is  one  of  sufliciont  mag- 
nitude and  difficulty  to  give  full  scope  to  the  author's  diligence,  dis- 
crimination, and  patient  research. 

It  will  not  be  long  ere  these  once  mighty  nations  will  only  be  known 
in  history.  They  are  fast  perishing  before  the  march  of  civilization. 
Tlieir  cries  and  groans  are  d}ang  away  in  the  distance,  and  soon, 
very  soon,  the  winds  of  heaven  will  waft  the  last  sigh  of  an  extin- 
guished people.  And  while  it  is  laudable  in  the  historian  to  record, 
for  the  information  of  posterity,  the  story  of  their  wrongs,  their  valor, 
and  their  acts  of  retaliation,  how  does  it  become  the  Cliristian  and  the 
philanthropist  to  use  the  last  opportunity  to  pour  the  oil  of  divine  con- 
solation into  their  bleeding  hearts,  and  to  strike  up  the  light  of  hope 
before  their  expiring  souls  !  When  will  the  ears  of  the  chinch  and  the 
nation  be  fully  open  to  the  cries  of  our  red  brethren  for  the  bk  ^:^.sin:;.-> 
of  religion  and  civilization  ? 

The  volume  now  ujion  our  table  contains  the  latter  history  of  the 
Six  Nations,  with  not  only  an  account  of  the  diflerent  negotiations 
entered  into,  and  treaties  effected  by  the  general  and  state  govern- 
ments, but  the  speeches  at  length  of  Red  Jacket  and  other  chiefs 
made  upon  these  occasions.  Here  we  see  the  native  untaught  orator 
pleading  the  cause  of  his  people,  and  often  making  the  most  moving 
appeals  to  the  sympathies  and  the  justice  of  those  who  had  taken  pos- 
session of  their  lands,  but  too  often,  on  the  erroneous  principle  that 
tnigJit  gives  right. 

Colonel  Stone's  character  as  a  M'riter  is  too  well  established  to 
require  our  commendation.  It  is  presumed  the  Life  and  Times  of  Kcd 
Jacket,  as  a  literary  effort,  will  compare  with  any  of  his  previous  pro- 
ductions. We  can  but  regret  that  it  did  not  come  within  the  range 
of  our  author's  plan  to  notice  the  Methodist  missions  cstablishid  at 
Sandusky,  Grand  River,  Oneida,  and  Green  Bay,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  people  whose  history  he  writes,  and  which  have  been  so  eminently 
successful  in  improving  their  moral  ar.d  ])hysical  condition.  There 
are  documents  in  abundance  upon  this  subject,  very  easy  of  access, 


1841.]  Critical  Notices.  637 

whicli,  coiild  tlie  aiulior  liavc  coiisislcntly  used,  would  constitute  a 
bright  spot  in  his  generally  gloomy  picture.  The  book  is  beautifully 
execute,  and  reflects  great  credit  upon  the  publishers.  We  most 
cordially  recommend  it  to  our  readers  as  a  most  interesting  and  in- 
structive volujne. 


5.  An  Etposition  of  some  of  the  Doctrines  of  the  Latin  Grammar.  By 
Gessner  Harrison,  JM.  D.,  Professor  of  Ancient  Languages  in  the 
University  of  Virghiia.     Part  I,  Svo.,  pp.  139. 

The  science  of  grammar  is  founded  upon  observation.  The  indi- 
vidual facts  which  are  to  be  observed  and  classified,  together  with  the 
theories  to  be  deduced  from  iliem,  render  the  preparation  of  a  work  on 
grammar  a  labor  of  deep  research  and  patient  investigation.  A  gram- 
mar is  not  complete  which  is  limited  to  a  few  general  principles,  or  a 
brief  detail  of  the  appearances  whicli  a  language  presents.  But  the 
whole  science  of  speech  must  be  unfolded,  and  the  principles  which 
regulate  the  expressions  of  the  human  mind  developed.  JIany  of  the 
classical  text  books  which  aro  used  in  our  colleges  and  seminaries  of 
learning  are  on  many  accounts  deficient  and  unsatisfactory.  The  work 
before  us  is  of  quite  another  character,  and  presents  many  striking  and 
original  views  of  language.  The  author  has  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
investigation  of  the  principles  of  Latin  grammar  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  researches  of  the  German  philologists,  and  has  illus- 
trated many  points  in  a  clear  and  lucid  manner.  The  work  opens 
with  a  preliminary  chapter,  containing  an  exposition  of  the  objects  of 
etymological  inquiries.  The  views  which  he  gives  of  the  powers  of 
the  letters,  and  their  interchange  in  obedience  to  the  laws  of  euphony, 
will  be  properly  appreciated  by  the  general  philologist. 

He  has  divided  words  into  time  classes  or  "  parts  of  speech,"  viz. : 
nouns,  vcrls,  and  partidcs.  This  is  the  division  most  commonly 
adopted,  and  which  was  derived  from  the  ancients.  As  regards  the 
classification  of  the  nouns,  the  author  is  of  the  ojiinion  that  in  accord- 
ance with  strict  etymological  principles  there  should  be  but  two  classes 
or  declensions,  distinguished  by  the  ending  of  the  inflectional  root. 
Still  the  division  into  five  is  the  most  convenient  for  practice,  and 
consequently  should  be  retained.  By  a  careftil  examination  of  the 
ancient  forms,  and  by  comparison  of  parallel  cases  in  the  Greek  and 
Sanscrit,  lie  has  given  some  views  on  the  formation  of  the  dative  and 
ablative,  which  render  clear  and  satisfactory  what  has  hitherto  been  a 
perplexing  rule  of  Latin  syntax.    He  dv.ells  at  some  length  upon  the 


638  Critical  Noliccs.  [Oclober, 

furmalion  and  signification  of  the  pronouns  and  of  ihc  particles  dcrivod 
from  tlicm  ;  but  we  have  not  space  to  enlarge.  \Yc  conimend  this  ^vork 
to  llie  attention  of  classical  scholars. 


C.  An  Examination  of  the  Doctrine,  History,  and  Moral  Tendency  of 
Roman  CaLhAic  Indulgences.  By  S.  Ch.^se,  Minister  of  the  M.  E. 
Church.  WalertownfN.  Y.:  Printed  by  Knowiion  &  Kice,  for  the 
Author.    1841.     ISmo.,  pp.  180. 

We  have  read  with  no  little  interest  the  unpretendint;  little  volume 
whose  title  we  have  given  above.  To  those  who  have  not  the  means 
of  obtaining  the  more  voluminous  works  on  the  errors  of  Romanism, 
this  manual  will  be  most  acceptable.  The  author  proves  that  the  true 
Romish  doctrine  is  that  the  priest  has  the  power  to  forgive  sins.  One 
of  his  proofs  is  taken  from  the  "  Manual  of  Catholic  Piety,  corrected 
and  approved  by  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Kendrick,"  and  puts  an  ad- 
dress to  God  into  the  mouth  of  the  absolved  Catholic,  a  part  of  which 
is  as  follows  : — 

"  The  eternal  Father  hath  given  ail  poiver  to  the  Son ;  but  then  / 

Ichold    THIS  VERY  POV.'ER   DELIVERED    BY   THE    SoX  TO  MORT.M.S.       'I'llO 

Jewish  priests  could  only  pronounce  those  clean  whose  bodies  had  lji:eii 
already  cleansed  from  the  leprosy  ;  but  to  our  priests  it  i"o.v  t^iim.  not 
merely  to  pronounce  clean,  but  really  to  cleanse,  not  the  in/ec.'inii.n  of  llii- 
body,  but  the  very  stains  of  the  soul." 

Still  Romanists  complain  that  they  arc  most  sliamofully  nuMtprr- 
scnted,  when  Protestants  represent  them  as  teaching  that  the  priest 
lias  the  power  to  forgive  or  retain  sins !  Strange  indeed,  thai  wo 
should  give  due  credit  to  their  own  expositions  of  the  Cathohc  dnr- 
trine  of  indulgences.  But  we  should  not  forget  that  this  "  Afaniial"  is 
designed  for  the  initiated.  When  they  speak  to  heretics,  whom  lliey 
are  at  liberty  most  piously  to  deceive  as  often  as  the  interests  of  tlio 
holy  Catholic  Church  requires  it,  they  may  repudiate  the  whole  as 
falsely  palmed  upon  holy  mother  by  her  hated  enemies  ! 

Our  author  quotes  from  "  O'Donnohue's  Cluirch  of  Ronii'"'  the  fol- 
lov,'ing  scale  upon  which  indulgences  are  bartered  at  Rome  : — 

"  The  pardon  of  a  heretic  is  fixed  at  ^3G  9s.,  while  marrying  (>n.;> 
wife,  after  murdering  another,  may  be  commuted  by  the  pa\ui.  iii  "l 
£8  2s.  9d.  A  pardon  for  perjury  is  charged  at  9s.;  simonv,  I'ls,  od.; 
robbery,  12s. ;  seduction,  9s. ;  incest,  7s.  Cd. ;  murder,  7.--.  CJ. 

Is  this  Christianity ?  or  is  it  not  "the  mystery  of  ini-iuity"  in  iv-. 
highest  stale  of  maturity?    This  eflbrt  of  the  author,  like  every  Miiuhr 


1S41.]  Critical  Notices.  639 

one,  will  do  good,  and  ought  to  be  encotiroged.  Should  a  second  edi- 
tion be  called  for,  some  verbal  and  typographical  errors  will  doubtless 
be  corrected,  and  the  author  will,  we  hope,  choose  a  more  inviting 
exterior  for  his  book. 


7.  A  Vindication  of  Classical  Studies.  By  Charles  H.  Lvon,  A.  M., 
one  of  the  Principals  of  the  Irving  Institute.  New-York :  H.  & 
S.  Ray  nor.     1841.    12rao.,  pp.  48. 

This  is  a  sensible,  plain,  practical  production,  which,  v.'e  have  no 
doubt,  should  it  be  generally  read,  would  correct  many  errors  in  rela- 
tion to  the  study  of  "  the  dead  languages."  The  subject  will  be  treated 
in  connection  with  another  work,  in  our  next  number. 

8.  Pamphlets. 

The  following  pamphlets  are  upon  our  table  ;  and  it  is  but  justice 
to  the  authors  and  to  ourselves  to  say,  that  several  of  them  were  in 
hand  in  time  to  have  received  an  ealier  notice  ;  but  just  at  the  closing 
of  our  pages  we  found  no  space  for  a  notice  of  this  class  of  publica- 
tions. And  want  of  room  now  forbids  our  doing  any  thing  more 
than  simply  inserting  their  title  pages  in  the  order  in  which  they  were 
received.  Several  of  these  pamphlets  are  highly  creditable  to  their 
authors,  and  we  should  be  happy  to  give  our  views  of  the  character 
of  each,  did  our  space  permit. 

A  Baccalaureate  Address,  delivered  before  the  senior  class,  Dickin- 
son College,  Carlisle,  Pa.,  July  8, 1840.  By  William  H.  Alien,  A.  M., 
Professor  of  Chimistry  and  Natural  Philosophy.  Philadelphia:  T.  K. 
&  P.  G.  Collins,  printers. 

Address  delivered  before  the  Delta  Phi  and  Athena?an  Literary  So- 
cieties of  Newark  College.  By  Thomas  E.  Bond,  jun.,  l\I.  D.,  Sept. 
23,  1840.     Baltimore:  Woods  &  Crane,  printers. 

An  Address  delivered  before  the  Calliopian  Society  of  Emory  and 
Henry  College,  on  the  day  of  the  Annual  Commencement  of  the  Col- 
lege ;  and  the  first  Anniversary  of  the  Society,  Aug.  6,  1840.  By  /. 
W.  Clapp,  A.  M.,  (published  by  request  of  the  association.)  Abingdon  • 
Printed  by  J.  N.  Humes. 

A  Sermon  on  Exodus  iv,  21.  The  Lord's  strengthening  the  pur- 
pose of  Pharaoh  in  retaining  the  Israelites,  not  inconsistent  willi  man's 
moral  agency.  By  iheUev.  Jo/m  Mcholscm.  Philadelphia:  .1.  Harm- 
stead,  38  3-4  North  Fourth-st.,  T.  K.  &  P.  G.  Collins,  printers. 


V 10  ,  Critical  Notices.  tOclobiT. 

The  Continuance  of  Brotherly  Love  :  a  Sermon  for  the  Times.  Hv 
Rev.  Z.  Par:tdoiI:,  of  the  iMcthodist  Episcopal  Church.  U.  Norway- 
lUica.     IS  10.     Pp.  2.3. 

The  Ascension  :  a  Sermon.  By  Rev.  Joseph  Cross,  pastor  of  Uio 
M.  E.  Church  in  Cazenovia,  N.  Y.     Cazenovia  Union  IlcralJ  Ol'ict 

Diuics  of  an  Aniericau  Citizen:  a  discourse  Jeli\erod  on  thanks- 
giving day,  Doc.  17,  18-10.  By  Jamrs  Floy,  pastor  of  the  tldrd  U.  K. 
Clmrch  in  the  city  of  Brooklyn.  Brooklyn  :  Press  of  Arnold  &  Van- 
anden. 

Sleep  and  Dreams :  a  Lecture  delivered  before  the  MidJlelown  Youns 
3\Ie.n's  Lyceum.  By  Daniel  D.  Wlicdon,  A.  M.,  Professor  of  Aiiciviit 
Languages  and  Literature  in  the  Wcsleyan  University.  Middictown, 
Conn.:  \V.  Trench,  printer.    1841. 

An  Inquiry  into  the  Authority  for  the  Rite  of  Confirmaiion  as  luld 
and  practiced  by  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church.  By  the  Rev. 
Lcroy  M.  Lee.  "  Prove  all  things  ;  hold  fast  that  \vhich  is  good." — 
Paul.  Richmond,  Va. :  Printed  at  the  oflicc  of  the  Christian  Advo- 
cate.    1841. 

Anti-Universali.-.m,  being  the  Substance  of  a  Sermon  prcachiHl  i;i 
the  >.'orth_Sccond-strcet  Methodist  Episcopal  Churcli,  on  the  rveiii:i!! 
oT  March  8,  1840,  against  modern  Universalism.  By  Rev.  N.  /,'•  i-.m. 
"  I  have  somewhat  against  thee." — -Apocalypse'.  'J'roy,  N.  Y. :  N  Ti.:- 
tie,  pruiter.     1S41. 

The  Republican  Iriiluence  of  Christianity :  a  discourse  delivered  en 
occasion  of  the  death  of  William  Henry  Harrison,  at  Bangor,  Ajiril  '22, 
and  redelivered  at  Hallowell  and  Augusta,  May  14,  ISll,  being  the 
dny  of  the  National  Fast.     By  Rev.  B.  F.  TcJJ't. 

A  Sermon  on  the  Occasion  of  the  Death  of  Gener.nl  \\'illi:an  Henry 
Harrison,  late  President  of  the  United  States,  delivered  in  tlie  cli.ip-l 
of  Randolph  Macon  College,  April  18,  1841.  By  the  Rev.  Dmi.l  S. 
Daggett.  Published  by  request  of  the  Students.  Richmond:  I'rin'.c.l 
nt  the  oflice  of  the  Christian  Advocate.     1S41. 

xV  Sermon  on  Occasion  of  the  Fast  appointed  to  be  In  Id  on  t!i-  l. >■.;•- 
teenth  of  Jilay  last,  by  the  President  of  the  United  States,  d.-iiv.  r.-.i  v.\ 
the  chapel  of  Randolpli  Macon  College.  By  Rev.  D^jiid  .<.  J).!,:;U{. 
Published  by  request  of  the  students.  Richmond :  Printed  at  the  oiFicc 
of  the  Christian  Advocate.     1841.