It is well for those who have sufficient_Choice Specimens of American Literature, and Literary Reader Being Selections from the Chief American Writers

works of foreign or ancient masters, especially if they allow free

access to them for students and copyists. The true gems are, however,

rare, and very costly. A single masterpiece would swallow up the whole

sum which even the richest of our countrymen would be willing to devote

in the way of paintings. I hope, however, soon to see the day when

there shall be a fondness for making collections of works by _American

artists_, or those resident among us. Such collections, judiciously

made, would supply the best history of the rise and progress of the arts

in the United States. They would, more than any other means, stimulate

artists to a generous emulation. They would reflect high honor upon

their possessors, as men who love Art for its own sake, and are willing

to serve and encourage it. They would highly gratify the foreigner of

taste who comes curious to observe the working of our institutions and

our habits of life. He does not cross the sea to find Vandykes and

Murillos. He can enjoy them at home; but he wishes to discover what the

children of the West can do in following or excelling European example.

The expense of such a collection could not be very great. A few

thousands of dollars, less than is often lavished upon the French plate

glass and lustres, damask hangings, and Turkey carpets of a pair of

parlors (more than which few of our houses can boast), would cover their

walls with good specimens of American art, and do far more credit to the

taste and heart of the owner.

* * * * *

=_William R. Williams,[15] 1804._= (Manual, p. 480.)

From "The Lectures on the Lord's Prayer."

=_40._= LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION.

We are warranted in praying to be brought through, temptation, when it

is not of our own seeking, but of _God's sending_. If we walk without

care and without vigilance, if we acknowledge not God in our ways, and

take counsel at Ekron, and not at Zion,--leaving the Bible unread, and

the closet unvisited,--if the sanctuary and the Sabbath lose their

ancient hold upon us, and we then go on frowardly in the way of our own

eyes, and after the counsel of our own heart, we have reason to tremble.

A conscience quick and sensitive, under the presence of the indwelling

Spirit, is like the safety-lamp of the miner, a ready witness and a

mysterious guardian against the deathful damps, that unseen, but fatal,

cluster around our darkling way. To neglect prayer and watching, is to

lay aside that lamp, and then, though the eye see no danger and the

ear hear no warning, spiritual death may be gathering around us her

invisible vapors, stored with ruin, and rife for a sudden explosion. We

are _tempting God_, and shall _we_ be delivered?

And if this be so with, the negligent professor of religion, is it not

applicable also to the openly careless, who never acknowledged Christ's

claims to the heart and the life?

With an evil nature, and a mortal body, and a brittle and brief tenure

of earth, you are traversing perilous paths. Had you God for your

friend, your case would be far other than it is. Peril and snare might

still beset you; but you would confront and traverse them, as the

Hebrews of old did the weedy bed of the Red Sea, its watery walls

guarding their dread way, the pillar of light the vanguard, and the

pillar of cloud the rearguard of their mysterious progress, the ark

and the God of the ark piloting and defending them.... You are like a

presumptuous and unskilful traveller, passing under the arch of the

waters of Niagara. The falling cataract thundering above you; a

slippery, slimy rock beneath your gliding feet; the smoking, roaring

abyss yawning beside you; the imprisoned winds beating back your

breath; the struggling daylight coming but mistily to the bewildered

eyes,--what is the terror of your condition if your guide, in whose

grasp your fingers tremble, be malignant, and treacherous, and suicidal,

determined on destroying your life at the sacrifice of his own? He

assures you that he will bring you safely through upon the other side of

the fall. And SUCH is SATAN. Lost himself, and desperate, he is set on

swelling the number of his compeers in shame, and woe, and ruin.

[Footnote 15: A Baptist divine, born in New York city, where he has long

been settled over a church; eminent for general scholarship and literary

ability.]

* * * * *

=_George B. Cheever, 1807-_=(Manual, pp. 480, 490.)

From "The Wanderings of a Pilgrim."

=_41._= MONT BLANC.

It is like those heights of ambition so much coveted in the world, and

so glittering in the distance, where, if men live to reach them, they

cannot live upon them. They may have all the appliances and means of

life, as these French _savants_ carried their tents to pitch upon the

summit of Mont Blanc; but the peak that looked so warm and glittering in

the sunshine, and of such a rosy hue in the evening rays, was too deadly

cold, and swept by blasts too fierce and cutting; they were glad to

relinquish the attempt, and come down. The view of the party a few hours

below the summit, was a sight of deep interest. So was the spectacle of

the immeasurable ridges and fields, gulfs and avalanches, heights and

depths, unfathomable chasms and impassable precipices, of ice and snow,

of such dazzling whiteness, of such endless extent, in such gigantic

masses.

* * * * *

From "Lectures on the Pilgrim's Progress."

=_42._=. SIN DISTORTS THE JUDGMENT.

On the other hand, those who do not love God, cannot expect to find in

his Word a system of truth that will please their own hearts. A sinful

heart can have no right views of God, and of course will have defective

views of his Word: for sin distorts the judgment, and overturns the

balance of the mind on all moral subjects, far more than even the best

of men are aware of. There is, there can be, no true reflection of God

or of his Word, from the bosom darkened with guilt, from the heart at

enmity with him. That man will always look at God through the medium of

his own selfishness, and at God's Word through the coloring of his own

wishes, prejudices, and fears.

A heart that loves the Saviour, and rejoices in God as its Sovereign,

reflects back in calmness the perfect view of his character, which

it finds in his Word. Behold on the borders of a mountain lake, the

reflection of the scene above, received into the bosom of the lake

below! See that crag projecting, the wild flowers that, hang out from

it, and bend as if to gaze at their own forms in the water beneath.

Observe that plot of green grass above, that tree springing from the

cleft, and over all, the quiet sky reflected in all its softness and

depth from the lake's steady surface. Does it not seem as if there were

two heavens. How perfect the reflection! And just as perfect and clear,

and free from confusion and perplexity, is the reflection of God's

character, and of the truths of his Word, from the quietness of the

heart that loves the Saviour, and rejoices in his supreme and sovereign

glory.

Now look again. The wind is on the lake, and drives forward its waters

in crested and impetuous waves, angry and turbulent. Where is that sweet

image? There is no change above: the sky is as clear, the crag projects

as boldly, the flowers look just as sweet in their unconscious

simplicity; but below, banks, trees, and skies are all mingled in

confusion. There is just as much confusion in every unholy mind's idea

of God and his blessed Word. God and his truth are always clear, always

the same, but the passions of men fill their own hearts with obscurity

and turbulence; their depravity is itself obscurity; and through all

this perplexity and wilful ignorance, they contend that God is just such

a being as they behold him, and that they are very good beings in his

sight. We have heard of a defect in the bodily vision, that represents

all objects upside down; that man would certainly be called insane,

who, under the influence of this misfortune, should so blind his

understanding, as to believe and assert that men walked on their heads,

and that the trees grew downwards. Now, is it not a much greater

insanity for men who in their hearts do not love God, and in their lives

perhaps insult and disobey him, to give credit to their own perverted

misrepresentations of him and of his Word? As long as men will continue

to look at God's truth through the medium of their own pride and

prejudice, so long will they have mistaken views of God and eternity, so

long will their own self righteousness look better to them for a resting

place, than the glorious righteousness of Him, who of God is made unto

us our Wisdom, Righteousness, Sanctification, and Redemption.

* * * * *

=_Horace Bushnell, 1804-_= (Manual, p, 480.)

From the "Sermons for the New Life."

=_43._= UNCONSCIOUS INFLUENCE.

The Bible calls the good man's life a light, and it is the nature of

light to flow out spontaneously in all directions, and fill the world

unconsciously with its beams. So the Christian shines, it would say, not

so much because he will, as because he is a luminous object. Not that

the active influence of Christians is made of no account in the figure,

but only that this symbol of light has its propriety in the fact

that their unconscious influence is the chief influence, end has the

precedence in its power over the world. And yet there are many who will

be ready to think that light is a very tame and feeble instrument,

because it is noiseless. An earthquake for example, is to them a much

more vigorous, and effective agency. Hear how it comes thundering

through the solid foundations of nature. It rocks a whole continent. The

noblest works of man--cities, monuments, and temples--are in a moment

levelled to the ground or swallowed down the opening gulfs of fire....

But lot the light of the morning cease, and return no more: let the

hour of morning come, and bring with it no dawn; the outcries of a

horror-stricken world fill the air, and make, as it were, the darkness

audible. The beasts go wild and frantic at the loss of the sun. The

vegetable growths turn pale and die. A. chill creeps on, and frosty

winds begin to howl across the freezing earth. Colder and yet colder

is the night. The vital blood, at length, of all creatures stops,

congealed. Down goes the frost toward the earth's centre. The heart of

the sea is frozen; nay, the earthquakes are themselves frozen in,

under their fiery caverns. The very globe itself, too, and all the

fellow-planets that have lost their sun, are become mere balls of ice,

swinging silent in the darkness. Such is the light which revisits us in

the silence of the morning. It make no shock or scar. It would not wake

an infant in his cradle. And yet it perpetually new creates the world,

rescuing it each morning as a prey from night and chaos. So the

Christian is a light, even "the light of the world;" and we must not

think that, because he shines insensibly or silently, as a mere luminous

object, he is therefore powerless. The greatest powers are ever those

which lie back of the little stirs and commotions of nature: and I

verily believe that the insensible influences of good men are as much

more potent than what I have called their voluntary or active, as the

great silent powers of nature are of greater consequence than her little

disturbances and tumults. The law of human influence is deeper than many

suspect, and they lose sight of it altogether. The outward endeavors

made by good men or bad, to sway others, they call their influence;

whereas it is, in fact, but a fraction, and in most cases, but a very

small fraction, of the good or evil that flows out of their lives.

* * * * *

From "Christ and His Salvation."

=_44._= THE TRUE REST OF THE CHRISTIAN.

Once more the analogies of the sleep of Jesus suggest the Christian

right, and even duty, of those relaxations, which are necessary, at

times, to loosen the strain of life and restore the freshness of its

powers. Christ, as we have seen, actually tore himself away from

multitudes waiting to be healed, that he might refit himself by sleep.

He had a way, too, of retiring often to mountain solitudes and by-places

on the sea, partly for the resting of his exhausted energies. Sometimes

also he called his disciples off in this manner, saying, "come ye

yourselves apart into a desert place and rest awhile." Not that every

disciple is, of course, to retire into solitudes and desert places, when

he wants recreation. Jesus was obliged to seek such places to escape

the continual press of the crowd. In our day, a waking rest of travel,

change of scene, new society, is permitted, and when it is a privilege

assumed by faithful men, to recruit them for their works of duty they

have it by God's sanction, and even as a part of the sound economy of

life. Going after a turn of gaiety, or dissipation, not after Christian

rest, or going after rest only because you are wearied and worried by

selfish overdoings, troubled and spent by toils that serve an idol, is

a very different matter. The true blessing of rest is on you, only when

you carry a good mind with you, able to look back on works of industry

and faithfulness, suspended for a time, that you may do them more

effectually. Going in such a frame, you shall rest awhile, as none but

such can rest. Nature will dress herself in beauty to your eye, calm

thoughts will fan you with their cooling breath, and the joy of the Lord

will be strength to your wasted brain and body. Ah, there is no luxury

of indulgence to be compared with this true Christian rest! Money will

not buy it, shows and pleasures can not woo its approach, no conjuration

of art, or contrived gaiety, will compass it even for an hour: but it

settles, like dew, unsought, upon the faithful servant of duty, bathing

his weariness and recruiting his powers for a new engagement in his

calling. Go ye thus apart and rest awhile if God permits.

* * * * *

=_Albert Taylor Bledsoe,[16] about 1809-_=

From "The Theodicy."

=_45._= MORAL EVIL CONSISTENT WITH THE HOLINESS OF GOD.

The argument of the atheist assumes, as we have seen, that a Being of

infinite power could easily prevent sin, and cause holiness to exist. It

assumes that it is possible, that it implies no contradiction, to create

an intelligent moral agent, and place It beyond all liability to sin.

But this is a mistake. Almighty power itself, we may say with, the most

profound reverence, cannot create such a being, and place it beyond the

possibility of sinning. If it could not sin, there would be no merit, no

virtue, in its obedience. That is to say, it would not be a moral agent

at all, but a machine merely. The power to do wrong, as well as to do

right, is included in the very idea of a moral and accountable agent,

and no such agent can possibly exist without being invested with such

a power. To suppose such an agent to be created, and placed beyond all

liability to sin, is to suppose it to be what it is, and not what it is,

at one and the same time; it is to suppose a creature to be endowed with

a power to do wrong, and yet destitute of such a power, which is a plain

contradiction. Hence Omnipotence cannot create such a being, and deny to

it a power to do evil, or secure it against the possibility of sinning.

[Footnote 16: The most prominent among the living philosophical writers

of the South: at present editor of the Southern Review.]

* * * * *

=_Richard Fuller,[17] 1808-_=

From a Sermon.

=_46._= THE DESIRE OF ALL NATIONS SHALL COME. _Haggai_ ii. 7.

Follow the adorable Jesus from scene to scene of ever deepening insult

and sorrow, tracked everywhere by spies hunting for the precious blood.

Behold his sacred face swollen with tears and stripes; and, last of all,

ascend Mount Calvary, and view there the amazing spectacle: earth and

hell gloating on the gashed form of the Lord of Glory; men and devils

glutting their malice in the agony of the Prince of Life; and all the

scattered rays of vengeance which would have consumed our guilty race,

converging and beating in focal intensity upon Him of whom the Eternal

twice exclaimed, in a voice from heaven, "This is my beloved Son, in

whom I am well pleased." After this, what are our emotions? Can we ever

be cold or faithless? No, my brethren, it is impossible, unless we

forget this Saviour, and lose sight of that cross on which he poured out

his soul for us.

That is an affecting passage in Roman history which records the death

of Manlius. At night, and on the Capitol, fighting hand to hand, had he

repelled the Gauls, and saved the city, when all seemed lost. Afterwards

he was accused; but the Capitol towered in sight of the forum where he

was tried, and, as he was about to be condemned, he stretched out his

hands, and pointed, weeping, to that arena of his triumph. At this the

people burst into tears, and the judges could not pronounce sentence.

Again the trial proceeded, but was again defeated; nor could he be

convicted until they had removed him to a low spot, from which the

Capitol was invisible. And behold my brethren, what I am saying. While

the cross is in view, vainly will earth and sin seek to shake the

Christian's loyalty and devotion; one look at that purple monument of

a love which alone, and when all was dark and lost, interposed for our

rescue, and their efforts will be baffled. Low must we sink, and blotted

from our hearts must be the memory of that deed, before we can become

faithless to the Redeemer's cause, and perfidious to his glory.

[Footnote 17: A Baptist divine of much distinction: a native of South

Carolina but long settled in Baltimore.]

* * * * *

=_Henry Ward Beecher, 1813-_= (Manual, p. 480.)

From the "Star Papers."

=_47._= A PICTURE IN A COLLEGE AT OXFORD.

I was much affected by a head of Christ. Not that it met my ideal of

that sacred front, but because it took me in a mood that clothed it with

life and reality. For one blessed moment I was with the Lord. I know

him. I loved him. My eyes I could not close for tears. My poor tongue

kept silence; but my heart spoke, and I loved and adored. The amazing

circuit of one's thoughts in so short a period is wonderful. They circle

round through all the past, and up through the whole future; and both

the past and future are the present, and are one. For one moment there

arose a keen anguish, like a shooting pang, for that which I was; and I

thought my heart would break that I could bring but only such a nature

to my Lord; but in a moment, as quick as the flash of sunlight which

follows the shadow of summer clouds across the fields, there seemed to

spring out upon me from my Master a certainty of love so great and noble

as utterly to consume my unworth, and leave me shining bright, as if it

were impossible for Christ to love a heart without making it pure and

beautiful by the resting on it of that illuming affection, just as the

sun bathes into beauty the homeliest object when he looks full upon it.

* * * * *

=_48._= FROST ON THE WINDOW.

But the indefatigable night repairs the desolation. New pictures supply

the waste ones. New cathedrals there are, new forests, fringed and

blossoming, new sceneries, and new races of extinct animals. We are rich

every morning, and poor every noon. One day with us measures the space

of two hundred years in kingdoms--a hundred years to build up, and a

hundred years to decay and destroy; twelve hours to overspread the

evanescent pane with glorious beauty, and twelve to extract and

dissipate the pictures.... Shall we not reverently and rejoicingly

behold in these morning pictures, wrought without color, and kissed upon

the window by the cold lips of Winter, another instance of that Divine

Beneficence of beauty which suffuses the heavens?

* * * * *

From "Lectures to Young Men."

=_49._= NATURE, DESIGNED FOR OUR ENJOYMENT.

The _necessity_ of amusement is admitted on all hands. There is an

appetite of the eye, of the ear, and of every sense, for which God has

provided the material. Gaiety of every degree, this side of puerile

levity, is wholesome to the body, to the mind, and to the morals. Nature

is a vast repository of manly enjoyments. The magnitude of God's works

is not less admirable than its exhilarating beauty. The rudest forms

have something of beauty; the ruggedest strength is graced with some

charm; the very pins, and rivets, and clasps of nature, are attractive

by qualities of beauty, more than is necessary for mere utility. The sun

could go down without gorgeous clouds; evening could advance without its

evanescent brilliance; trees might have flourished without symmetry;

flowers have existed without odor, and fruit without flavor. When I have

journeyed through forests, where ten thousand shrubs and vines exist

without apparent use; through prairies, whose undulations exhibit sheets

of flowers innumerable, and absolutely dazzling the eye with their

prodigality of beauty--beauty, not a tithe of which is ever seen by

man--I have said, it is plain that God is himself passionately fond of

beauty, and the _earth_ is his garden, as an _acre_ is man's. God has

made us like Himself, to be pleased by the universal beauty of the

world. He has made provision in nature, in society, and in the family,

for amusement and exhilaration enough to fill the heart with the

perpetual sunshine of delight.

Upon this broad earth, purfled with flowers, scented with odors,

brilliant in colors, vocal with echoing and re-echoing melody, I take

my stand against all demoralizing pleasure. Is it not enough that our

Father's house is so full of dear delights, that we must wander prodigal

to the swine-herd for husks, and to the slough for drink?--when the

trees of God's heritage bend over our head and solicit our hand to pluck

the golden fruitage, must we still go in search of the apples of Sodom,

outside fair and inside ashes.

Men shall crowd to the circus to hear clowns, and see rare feats of

horsemanship; but a bird may poise beneath the very sun, or flying

downward, swoop from the high heaven; then flit with graceful ease

hither and thither, pouring liquid song as if it were a perennial

fountain of sound--no man cares for that.

Upon the stage of life, the vastest tragedies are performing in every

act; nations pitching headlong to their final catastrophe; others,

raising their youthful forms to begin the drama of existence. The world

of society is as full of exciting interest, as nature is full of beauty.

The great dramatic throng of life is bustling along--the wise, the fool,

the clown, the miser, the bereaved, the broken-hearted. Life mingles

before us smiles and tears, sighs and laughter, joy and gloom, as the

spring mingles the winter-storm and summer-sunshine. To this vast

Theatre which God hath builded, where stranger plays are seen than ever

author writ, man seldom cares to come. When God dramatizes, when nations

act, or all the human kind conspire to educe the vast catastrophe, men

sleep and snore, and let the busy scene go on, unlocked, unthought

upon.... It is my object then, not to withdraw the young from pleasure,

but from unworthy pleasures; not to lessen their enjoyments, but to

increase them, by rejecting the counterfeit and the vile.

* * * * *

From "Norwood."

=_50._= LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.

It was this union of seclusion and publicity that made Norwood a place

of favorite resort, through the summer, of artists, of languid scholars,

and of persons of quiet tastes. There was company for all that shunned

solitude, and solitude for all that were weary of company. Each house

was secluded from its neighbor. Yards and gardens full of trees and

shrubbery, the streets lined with venerable trees, gave the town at a

little distance the appearance of having been built in an orchard or a

forest-park. A few steps and you could be alone--a few steps too would

bring you among crowds. Where else could one watch the gentle conflict

between sounds and silence with such dreamy joy?--or make idleness seem

so nearly like meditation?--or more nimbly chase the dreams of night

with even brighter day-dreams, wondering every day what has become of

the day before, and each week where the week has gone, and in autumn

what has become of the summer, that trod so noiselessly that none knew

how swift were its footsteps! The town filled by July, and was not empty

again till late October.

There are but two perfect months in our year--June and October. People

from the city usually arrange to miss both. June is the month of

gorgeous greens; October, the month of all colors. June has the full

beauty of youth; October has the splendor of ripeness. Both of them are

out-of-door months. If the year has anything to tell you, listen now! If

these months teach the heart nothing, one may well shut up the book of

the year.

* * * * *

From "The Life of Jesus the Christ."

=_51._= THE CONCEPTION OF ANGELS, SUPERHUMAN.

The angels of the oldest records are like the angels of the latest. The

Hebrew thought had moved through a vast arc of the infinite cycle of

truth, between the days when Abraham came from Ur of Chaldea, and the

times of our Lord's stay on earth. But there is no development in angels

of later over those of an earlier date. They were as beautiful, as

spiritual, as pure and noble, at the beginning as at the close of the

old dispensation. Can such creatures, transcending earthly experience,

and far out-running any thing in the life of man, be creations of the

rude ages of the human understanding? We could not imagine the Advent

stripped of its angelic lore. The dawn without a twilight, the sun

without clouds of silver and gold, the morning on the fields without

dew-diamonds,--but not the Saviour without his angels? They shine within

the Temple, they bear to the matchless mother a message which would have

been a disgrace from mortal lips, but which from theirs fell upon her

as pure as dew-drops upon the lilies of the plain of Esdraelon. They

communed with the Saviour in his glory of transfiguration, sustained

him in the anguish of the garden, watched at the tomb; and as they had

thronged the earth at his coming, so they seem to have hovered in the

air in multitudes at the hour of his ascension. Beautiful as they seem,

they are never mere poetic adornments. The occasions of their appearing

are grand. The reasons are weighty. Their demeanor suggests and befits

the highest conception of superior beings. These are the very elements

that a rude age could not fashion. Could a sensuous age invent an order

of beings, which, touching the earth from a heavenly height on its most

momentous occasions, could still, after ages of culture had refined

the human taste and moral appreciation, remain ineffably superior in

delicacy, in pure spirituality, to the demands of criticism? Their very

coming and going is not with earthly movement. They suddenly are seen

in the air as one sees white clouds round out from the blue sky, in

a summer's day, that melt back even while one looks upon them. They

vibrate between the visible and the invisible. They come without motion.

They go without flight. They dawn and disappear. Their words are few,

but the Advent Chorus yet is sounding its music through the world.

* * * * *

=_John McClintock,[18] 1814-1870._=

From a Sermon on "The Ground of Man's Love to God."

=_52._= THE CHRISTIAN THE ONLY TRUE LOVER OF NATURE.

It is not too much to say that the only _true_ lover of nature, is he

that loves God in Christ. It is as with one standing in one of those

caves of unknown beauty of which travellers tell us. While it is dark,

nothing can be seen but the abyss, or at most, a faint glimmer of

ill-defined forms. But flash into it the light of a single torch, and

myriad splendors crowd upon the gaze of the beholder. He sees long-drawn

colonnades, sparkling with gems; chambers of beauty and glory open on

every hand, flashing back the light a thousand fold increased, and in

countless varied hues. So the sense of God's love in the heart gives an

eye for nature, and supplies the torch to illuminate its recesses of

beauty. For the ear that can hear them, ten thousand voices speak, and

all in harmony, the name of God! The sun, rolling in his majesty,--

"And with his tread, of thunder force,

Fulfilling his appointed course,"--

is but a faint and feeble image of the great central Light of the

universe. The spheres of heaven, in the perpetual harmony of their

unsleeping motion, swell the praise of God; the earth, radiant with

beauty, and smiling in joy, proclaims its Maker's love; and the

ocean,--that

"Glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form

Glasses itself in tempests,"--

as it murmurs on the shore, or foams with its broad billows over the

deep, declares its God; and even the tempests, that, in their "rising

wrath, sweep sea and sky," still utter the name of Him who rides upon

the whirlwind and directs the storm. In a word, the whole universe is

but a temple, with God for its deity, and the redeemed _man_ for its

worshipper.

[Footnote 18: Distinguished among the Methodist clergy for eloquence and

learning; a native of Pennsylvania.]

* * * * *

=_Noah Porter,[19] 1811-_=

From "The Science of Nature versus the Science of Man."

=_53._= SCIENCE MAGNIFIES GOD.

We contend at present only for the position that we cannot have a

science of nature which does not regard the spirit of man as a part of

nature. But is this all? Do man and nature exhaust the possibilities of

being? We cannot answer this question here. But we find suggestions from

the spectrum and the spectroscope which may be worth our heeding. The

materials with which we have to do in their most brilliant scientific

theories seem at first to overwhelm us with their vastness and

complexity. The hulks are so enormous, the forces are so mighty, the

laws are so wide-sweeping, and at times so pitiless, the distances are

so over-mastering, even the uses and beauties are so bewildering, that

we bow in mute and almost abject submission to the incomprehensible all;

of which we hesitate to affirm aught, except what has been manifest to

our observant senses and connected by our inseparable associations. We

forget what our overmastering thought has done in subjecting this

universe to its interpretations. Its vast distances have been

annihilated, for we have connected the distant with the near by the one

pervading force which Newton divined. We have analyzed the flame that

burns in our lamp, and the flame that burns in the sun, by the same

instrument,--connecting by a common affinity, at the same instant and

under the same eye, two agents, the farthest removed in place and the

most subtle in essence. As we have overcome distances, so we have

conquered time, reading the story of antecedent cycles with a confidence

equal to that with which we forecast the future ages. The philosopher

who penetrates the distant portions of the universe by the

_omnipresence_ of his scientific generalizations, who reads the secret

of the sun by the glance of his penetrating eye, has little occasion to

deny that all its forces may be mastered by a single all-knowing and

_omnipresent_ Spirit, and that its secrets can be read by one all-seeing

eye. The scientist who evolves the past in his confident thought, under

a few grand titles of generalized forces and relations, and who develops

and almost gives law to the future by his faith in the persistence of

force, has little reason to question the existence of an intellect

capable of deeper insight and larger foresight than his own, which can

grasp all the past and the future by an all-comprehending intelligence,

and can control its wants by a personal energy that is softened to

personal tenderness and love.

[Footnote 19: A Congregational divine, born in Connecticut, long

Professor of Metaphysics in Yale College, and writer of many critical

Essays and Reviews. His treatise on "The Human Intellect," is the most

elaborate American work upon Psychology.]

* * * * *

=_William Henry Milburn,[20] 1823-_=

From "Lectures."

=_54._= THE PIONEER PREACHERS OF THE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY.

The spoken eloquence of New England is for the most part from

manuscript. Her first settlers brought old-world forms, and fashions

from the old world, with them. Their preachers were set an appalling

distance from their congregations. Between the pulpit, perched far up

toward the ceiling, and the seats, was an awful abysmal depth. Above the

lofty desk was dimly seen the white cravat, and above that the head

of the preacher. His eye was averted and fastened downward upon his

manuscript, and his discourse, or exercitation, or whatever it might be,

was delivered in a monotonous, regular cadence, probably relieved

from time to time by some quaint blunder, the result of indistinct

penmanship, or dim religious light. It was not this preacher's business

to arouse his audience. The theory of worship of the period was

opposed to that. This people did not wish excitement, or stimulus, or

astonishment, or agitation. They simply desired information; they wished

to be instructed; to have their judgment informed, or their reason

enlightened. Thus the preacher might safely remain perched up in his far

distant unimpassioned eyrie.

But how would such a style of eloquence--if, indeed, truth will permit

the name of eloquence to be applied to the reading of matter from a

preconcerted manuscript--how would such a style of delivery be received

out in the wild West? Place your textual speaker out in the backwoods,

on the stump, where a surging tide of humanity streams strongly around

him, where the people press up toward him on every side, their keen

eyes intently perusing his to see if he be in real earnest,--"dead in

earnest"--and where, as with a thousand darts, their contemptuous scorn

would pierce him through if he were found playing a false game, trying

to pump up tears by mere acting, or arousing an excitement without

feeling it. Would such a style of oratory succeed there? By no means.

The place is different; the hearers are different; the time, the thing

required, all the circumstances, are totally different. Here, in the

vast unwalled church of nature, with the leafy tree-tops for a ceiling,

their massy stems for columns; with the endless mysterious cadences of

the forest for a choir; with the distant or nearer music and murmur of

streams, and the ever-returning voice of birds, sounding in their ears

for the made-up music of a picked band of exclusive singers: here stand

men whose ears are trained to catch the faintest foot-fall of the

distant deer, or the rustle of their antlers against branch or bough of

the forest track--whose eyes are skilled to discern the trail of savages

who leave scarce a track behind them; and who will follow upon

that trail--utterly invisible to the untrained eye--as surely as a

blood-hound follows the scent, ten or twenty, or a hundred miles, whose

eye and hand are so well practised that they can drive a nail, or snuff

a candle, with the long, heavy western rifle. Such men, educated for

years, or even generations, in that hard school of necessity, where

every one's hand and wood-man's skill must keep his head; where

incessant pressing necessities required ever a prompt and sufficient

answer in deeds; and where words needed to be but few, and those

the plainest and directest, required no delay nor preparation, nor

oratorical coquetting, nor elaborate preliminary scribble; no hesitation

nor doubts in deeds; no circumlocution in words. To restrain, influence,

direct, govern, such a surging sea of life as this, required something

very different from a written address.

[Footnote 20: Born in Philadelphia; a Methodist divine, long afflicted

with blindness; but widely popular as a preacher and lecturer.]

* * * * *

ORATORS, AND LEGAL AND POLITICAL WRITERS, OF THE ERA OF THE REVOLUTION.

=_John Dickinson, 1732-1808._= (Manual, p. 486.)

From "The Address of Congress to the States." May 26, 1779.

=_55._= THE ASPECT OF THE WAR.

To our constituents we submit the propriety and purity of our

intentions, well knowing they will not forget that we lay no burdens

upon them but those in which we participate with them--a happy sympathy,

that pervades societies formed on the basis of equal liberty. Many

cares, many labors, and may we not add, reproaches, are peculiar to us.

These are the emoluments of our unsolicited stations; and with these we

are content, if YOU approve our conduct. If you do not, we shall return

to our private condition, with no other regret than that which will

arise from our not having served you as acceptably and essentially as

we wished and strove to do, though as cheerfully and faithfully as we

could.

Think not we despair of the commonwealth, or endeavor to shrink from

opposing difficulties. No! Your cause is too good, your objects too

sacred, to be relinquished. We tell you truths because you are freemen,

who can bear to hear them, and may profit by them; and when they reach

your enemies, we fear not the consequences, because we are not ignorant

of their resources or our own. Let your good sense decide upon the

comparison....

We well remember what you said at the commencement of this war. You

saw the immense difference between your circumstances and those of your

enemies, and you knew the quarrel must decide on no less than your

lives, liberties, and estates. All these you greatly put to every

hazard, resolving rather to die freemen than to live slaves; and justice

will oblige the impartial world to confess you have uniformly acted on

the same generous principle. Persevere, and you insure peace, freedom,

safety, glory, sovereignty, and felicity to yourselves, your children,

and your children's children.

Encouraged by favors already received from Infinite Goodness, gratefully

acknowledging them, earnestly imploring their continuance, constantly

endeavoring to draw them down on your heads by an amendment of your

lives, and a conformity to the Divine will, humbly confiding in the

protection so often and wonderfully experienced, vigorously employ the

means placed by Providence in your hands for completing your labors.

Fill up your battalions--be prepared in every part to repel the

incursions of your enemies--place your several quotas in the continental

treasury--lend money for public uses--sink the emissions of your

respective States--provide effectually for expediting the conveyance of

supplies for your armies and fleets, and for your allies--prevent the

produce of the country from being monopolized--effectually superintend

the behavior of public officers--diligently promote piety, virtue,

brotherly love, learning, frugality, and moderation--and may you be

approved before Almighty God, worthy of those blessings we devoutly wish

you to enjoy.

* * * * *

=_John Adams, 1735-1826._= (Manual, p. 486.)

From his "Life and Works."

=_56._= CHARACTER OF JAMES OTIS.

JAMES OTIS, of Boston, sprang from families among the earliest of the

planters of the Colonies, and the most respectable in rank, while the

word _rank_, and the idea annexed to it, were tolerated in America. He

was a gentleman of general science and extensive literature. He had been

an indefatigable student during the whole course of his education in

college and at the bar. He was well versed in Greek and Roman history,

philosophy, oratory, poetry, and mythology. His classical studies had

been unusually ardent, and his acquisitions uncommonly great.... It

was a maxim which he inculcated on his pupils, as his patron in the

profession, Mr. Gridley, had done before him, "_that a lawyer ought

never to be without a volume of natural or public law, or moral

philosophy, on his table or in his pocket_." In the history, the common

law, and statute laws, of England, he had no superior, at least in

Boston.

Thus qualified to resist the system of usurpation and despotism,

meditated by the British ministry, under the auspices of the Earl

of Bute, Mr. Otis resigned his commission from the crown, as

Advocate-General,--an office very lucrative at that time, and a sure

road to the highest favors of government in America,--and engaged in

the cause of his country without fee or reward. His argument, speech,

discourse, oration, harangue,--call it by which name you will, was the

most impressive upon his crowded audience of any that I ever heard

before or since, excepting only many speeches by himself in Faneuil

Hall, and in the House of Representatives, which he made from time to

time for ten years afterwards. There were no stenographers in those

days. Speeches were not printed; and all that was not remembered, like

the harangues of Indian orators, was lost in air. Who, at the distance

of fifty-seven years, would attempt, upon memory, to give even a sketch

of it? Some of the heads are remembered, out of which Livy or Sallust

would not scruple to compose an oration for history. I shall not essay

an analysis or a sketch of it at present. I shall only say, and I do say

in the most solemn manner, that Mr. Otis's oration against "_writs of

assistance_" breathed into this nation the breath of life.

* * * * *

From the "Thoughts on Government."

=_57._= REQUISITES OF A GOOD GOVERNMENT.

The dignity and stability of government in all its branches, the morals

of the people, and every blessing of society, depend so much upon an

upright and skilful administration of justice, that the judicial power

ought to be distinct from both the legislative and executive, and

independent upon both, that so it may be a check upon both, as both

should be checks upon that.

... Laws for the liberal education of youth, especially of the lower

class of people, are so extremely wise and useful, that, to a humane

and generous mind, no expense for this purpose would be thought

extravagant.... You and I, my dear friend, have been sent into life at a

time when the greatest lawgivers of antiquity would have wished to live.

How few of the human race have ever enjoyed an opportunity of making

an election of government, more than of air, soil, or climate, for

themselves or their children! When, before the present epocha, had

three millions of people full power and a fair opportunity, to form

and establish the wisest and happiest government that human wisdom can

contrive?

* * * * *

=_Patrick Henry, 1736-1799._= (Manual, p. 484.)

From "Speech in the Convention of Virginia," 1775.

=_58._= THE NECESSITY OF THE WAR.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of

experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past.

And judging by the past, I wish to know what has been the conduct of

the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with

which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house.

Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately

received. Trust it not, Sir, it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer

not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this

gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike

preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and

armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown

ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in

to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the

implements of war, and subjugation--the last arguments to which kings

resort. There is no longer any room for hope. If 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 we have

pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our

contest is obtained, we must fight, I repeat it, sir, we must fight. An

appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us.

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable

an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week,

or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when

a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather

strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of

effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the

delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and

foot?

Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the

God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed

in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we

possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against

us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just

God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up

friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the

strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides,

sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is

now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in

submission and slavery. Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be

heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable--and let it come! I

repeat it, sir, let it come!

It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace,

peace; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next

gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of

resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we

here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life

so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains

and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may

take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!

* * * * *

From a Speech on the Ratification of the Federal Constitution.

=_59._= NECESSITY OF AMENDMENT BEFORE ADOPTION.

I exhort gentlemen to think seriously, before they ratify this

constitution, and to indulge a salutary doubt of their being able to

succeed in any effort they may make to get amendments after adoption.

With respect to that part of the proposal, which says that every power

not specially granted to Congress remains with the people; it must be

previous to adoption, or it will involve this country in inevitable

destruction. To talk of it, as a thing to be subsequently obtained,

and not as one of your unalienable rights, is leaving it to the casual

opinion of the Congress who shall take up the consideration of that most

important right. They will not reason with you about the effect of

this constitution. They will not take the opinion of this committee

concerning its operation. They will construe it even as they please.

If you place it subsequently, let me ask the consequences? Among ten

thousand implied powers which they may assume, their may, if we be

engaged in war, liberate every one of your slaves if they please. And

this must and will be done by men, a majority of whom have not a common

interest with you. They will, therefore, have no feeling for _your_

interests.... Is it not worth while to turn your eyes for a moment from

subsequent amendments, to the real situation of your country? You may

have a union, but can you have a lasting union in these circumstances?

It will be in vain to expect it. But if you agree to previous

amendments, you will have union, firm, solid, permanent. I cannot

conclude without saying, that I shall have nothing to do with it, if

subsequent amendments be determined upon. Oppressions will be carried on

as radically by the majority when adjustments and accommodations will

be held up. I say, I conceive it my duty, if this government be adopted

before it is amended, to go home. I shall act as I think my duty

requires. Every other gentleman will do the same. Previous amendments,

in my opinion, are necessary to procure peace and tranquility. I fear,

if they be not agreed to, every movement and operation of government

will cease, and how long that baneful thing, _civil discord_, will stay

from this country, God only knows. When men are free from restraint,

how long will you suspend their fury? The interval between this and

bloodshed is but a moment. The licentious and wicked of the community

will seize with avidity every thing you hold. In this unhappy situation,

what is to be done? It surpasses my stock of wisdom to determine. If you

will, in the language of freemen, stipulate that there are rights which

no man under heaven can take from you, you shall have me going along

with you; but not otherwise.

* * * * *

=_John Rutledge, 1739-1800._= (Manual, p. 484.)

From "Speech on the Judiciary Establishment."

=_60._= AN INDEPENDENT JUDICIARY THE SAFEGUARD OF LIBERTY.

While this shield remains to the states, it will be difficult to

dissolve the ties which knit and bind them together. As long as this

buckler remains to the people, they cannot be liable to much, or

permanent oppression. The government may be administered with violence,

offices may be bestowed exclusively upon those who have no other merit

than that of carrying votes at elections,--the commerce of our country

may be depressed by nonsensical theories, and public credit may suffer

from bad intentions; but so long as we have an independent judiciary,

the great interests of the people will be safe. Neither the president,

nor the legislature, can violate their constitutional rights. Any

such attempt would be checked by the judges, who are designed by the

constitution to keep the different branches of the government within

the spheres of their respective orbits, and say thus far shall you

legislate, and no further. Leave to the people an independent judiciary,

and they will prove that man is capable of governing himself,--they will

be saved from what has been the fate of all other republics, and they

will disprove the position that governments of a republican form cannot

endure.

We are asked by the gentleman from Virginia, if the people want judges

to protect them? Yes, sir, in popular governments constitutional checks

are necessary for their preservation; the people want to be protected

against themselves; no man is so absurd as to propose the people

collectedly will consent to the prostration of their liberties; but if

they be not shielded by some constitutional checks, they will suffer

them to be destroyed--to be destroyed by demagogues, who at the time

they are soothing and cajoling the people, with bland and captivating

speeches, are forging chains for them; demagogues who carry, daggers in

their hearts, and seductive smiles in their hypocritical faces, who are

dooming the people to despotism, when they profess to be exclusively the

friends of the people; against such designs and such artifices, were our

constitutional checks made, to preserve the people of this country.

* * * * *

=_Thomas Jefferson, 1743-1826._= (Manual, pp. 486, 490.)

From his "Inaugural Address", March 4th, 1801.

=_61._= ESSENTIAL PRINCIPLES OF AMERICAN GOVERNMENT.

Kindly separated by nature and a wide ocean from the exterminating havoc

of one quarter of the globe, too high-minded to endure the degradations

of the others, possessing a chosen country with room enough for our

descendants to the hundredth and thousandth generation, entertaining a

due sense of our equal right to the use of our own faculties, to the

acquisitions of our industry, to honor and confidence from our fellow

citizens, resulting not from birth but from our actions and their sense

of them, enlightened by a benign religion, professed, indeed, and

practised, in various forms, yet all of them including honesty, truth,

temperance, gratitude, and the love of man; acknowledging and adoring

an overruling Providence, which by all its dispensations proves that

it delights in the happiness of man here and his greater happiness

hereafter; with all these blessings, what more is necessary to make us

a happy and prosperous people? Still one thing more, fellow-citizens, a

wise and frugal government, which shall restrain men from injuring one

another, which shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own

pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth

of labor the bread it has earned. This is the sum of good government,

and this is necessary to close the circle of our felicities.

About to enter, fellow-citizens, on the exercise of duties which

comprehend everything dear and valuable to you, it is proper that

you should understand what I deem the essential principles of

our government, and consequently those which ought to shape its

administration. I will compress them within the narrowest compass they

will bear, stating the general principle, but not all its limitations.

Equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or persuasion,

religious, or political; peace, commerce, and honest friendship, with

all nations, entangling alliances with none; the support of the state

governments in all their rights, as the most competent administrations

for our domestic concerns and the surest bulwarks against

anti-republican tendencies; the preservation of the general government

in its whole constitutional vigor, as the sheet anchor of our peace at

home and safety abroad; a jealous care of the right of election by the

people, a mild and safe corrective of abuses which are lopped by the

sword of revolution where peaceable remedies are unprovided; absolute

acquiescence in the decisions of the majority, the vital, principle

of republics, from which there is no appeal but to force, the vital

principle and immediate parent of despotism; a well disciplined militia,

our best reliance in peace and for the first moments of war, till

regulars may relieve them; the supremacy of the civil over the military

authority; economy in the public expense, that labor may be lightly

burdened; the honest payment of our debts send sacred preservation of

the public faith; encouragement of agriculture, and of commerce as its

handmaid; the diffusion of information and the arraignment of all abuses

at the bar of public reason; freedom of religion; freedom of the press;

freedom of person under the protection of the _habeas corpus_; and

trial by juries impartially selected; these principles form the bright

constellation which has gone before us, and guided our steps through an

age of revolution and reformation. The wisdom of our sages and the blood

of our heroes have been devoted to their attainment. They should be

the creed of our political faith, the text of civil instruction, the

touchstone by which to try the services of those we trust; and should we

wander from them in moments of error or alarm, let us hasten to retrace

our steps and to regain the road which alone leads to peace, liberty,

and safety.

* * * * *

=_62._= CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON.

His mind was great and powerful, without being of the very first order;

his penetration strong, though not so acute as a Newton, Bacon, or

Locke; and as far as he saw no judgment was ever sounder. It was slow in

operation, being little aided by invention or imagination, but sure in

conclusion. Hence the common remark of his officers, of the advantage he

derived from councils of war, where hearing all suggestions, he selected

whatever was best; and certainly no General ever planned his battles

more judiciously. But if deranged during the course of the action, if

any member of his plan was dislocated by sudden circumstances, he was

slow in re-adjustment. The consequence was that he often failed in the

field, and rarely against an enemy in station, as at Boston and York.

He was incapable of fear, meeting personal dangers with the calmest

unconcern. Perhaps the strongest feature in his character was prudence;

never acting until every circumstance, every consideration was maturely

weighed; refraining if he saw a doubt, but when once decided, going

through with his purpose, whatever obstacles opposed. His integrity was

most pure, his justice the most inflexible I have ever known; no motives

of interest or consanguinity, of friendship or hatred, being able to

bias his decision. He was indeed in every sense of the words, a wise,

a good, and a great man. His temper was naturally irritable, and high

toned; but reflection and resolution had obtained a firm and habitual

ascendancy over it. If ever however it broke its bonds, he was most

tremendous in his wrath. In his expenses he was honorable, but exact;

liberal in contributions to whatever promised utility, but frowning and

unyielding on all visionary projects, and all unworthy calls on his

charity. His heart was not warm in its affections; but he exactly

calculated every man's value, and gave him a solid esteem proportioned

to it. His person, you know, was fine, his stature exactly what one

would wish, his deportment easy, erect, and noble; the best horseman of

his age, and the most graceful figure that could be seen on horseback.

Although in the circle of his friends, where he might be unreserved with

safety, he took a free share in conversation, his colloquial talents

were not above mediocrity, possessing neither copiousness of ideas, nor

fluency of words. In public, when called on for a sudden opinion, he was

unready, short, and embarrassed. Yet he wrote readily, rather diffusely,

in an easy and correct style. This he had acquired by conversation with

the world, for his education was merely reading, writing, and common

arithmetic, to which he added surveying at a later day. His time was

employed in action chiefly, reading little, and that only in agriculture

and English history. His correspondence became necessarily extensive,

and with journalizing his agricultural proceedings, occupied most of his

leisure hours within doors. On the whole, his character was in its mass,

perfect; in nothing, bad; in few points indifferent; and it may truly be

said that never did nature and fortune combine more perfectly to make a

man great.

* * * * *

From the "Notes on Virginia."

=_63._= GEOGRAPHICAL LIMITS OF THE ELEPHANT AND THE MAMMOTH. 1781.

From the thirtieth degree of south latitude to the thirtieth of north

are nearly the limits which nature has fixed for the existence

and multiplication of the elephant known to us. Proceeding thence

northwardly to thirty-six and a half degrees, we enter those assigned

to the mammoth. The farther we advance north, the more their vestiges

multiply, as far as the earth has been explored in that direction; and

it is as probable as otherwise, that this progression continues to the

pole itself, if land extends so far. The centre of the frozen zone,

then, may be the acme of their vigor, as that of the torrid is of the

elephant. Thus nature seems to have drawn a belt of separation between

these two tremendous animals, whose breadth indeed is not precisely

known, though at present we may suppose it to be about six and a half

degrees of latitude; to have assigned to the elephant the regions

south of these confines, and those north to the mammoth, founding the

constitution of the one in her extreme of heat, and that of the other

in the extreme of cold. When the Creator has therefore separated their

nature as far as the extent of the scale of animal life allowed to this

planet would permit, it seems perverse to declare it the same, from a

partial resemblance of their tusks and bones. But to whatever animal we

ascribe these remains, it is certain such a one has existed in America,

and that it has been the largest of all terrestrial beings.

* * * * *

=64.= THE UNHAPPY EFFECTS OF SLAVERY.

These must doubtless be an unhappy influence on the manners of our

people produced by the existence of slavery among us.... With the morals

of the people, their industry also is destroyed. For in a warm climate

no man will labor for himself who can make another labor for him. This

is so true, that of the proprietors of slaves a very small proportion

indeed are ever seen to labor. And can the liberties, of a nation be

thought secure when we have removed their only firm basis--a conviction

in the minds of the people that they are the gift of God? that they are

not to be violated but with his wrath? Indeed, I tremble for my country

when I reflect that God is just; that his justice cannot sleep forever;

that considering numbers, nature, and natural means only, a revolution

of the wheel of fortune, an exchange of situation, is among possible

events; that it may become probable by supernatural interference.

The Almighty has no attribute which can take sides with us in such

a contest. But it is impossible to be temperate, and to pursue this

subject through the various considerations of policy, of morals, of

history, natural and civil. We must be contented to hope they will force

their way into every one's mind. I think a change already perceptible

since the origin of the present revolution. The spirit of the master

is abating, that of the slave is rising from the dust, his condition

mollifying, the way I hope preparing, under the auspices of Heaven, for

a total emancipation.

* * * * *

=_John Jay, 1745-1829._= (Manual, pp. 484, 486.)

From the "Address from the Convention." December 23, 1776.

=_65._= AN APPEAL TO ARMS.

Rouse, brave citizens! Do your duty like men; and be persuaded that

Divine Providence will not permit this western world to be involved in

the horrors of slavery. Consider that, from the earliest ages of the

world, religion, liberty, and reason have been bending their course

towards the setting sun. The holy Gospels are yet to be preached to

these western regions; and we have the highest reason to believe that

the Almighty will not suffer slavery and the gospel to go hand in hand.

It cannot, it will not be.

But if there be any among us dead to all sense of honor and love

of their country; if deaf to all the calls of liberty, virtue, and

religion; if forgetful of the magnanimity of their ancestors, and the

happiness of their children; if neither the examples nor the success of

other nations, the dictates of reason and of nature, or the great duties

they owe to their God, themselves, and their posterity have any effect

upon them; if neither the injuries they have received, the prize they

are contending for, the future blessings or curses of their children,

the applause or the reproach of all mankind, the approbation or

displeasure of the great Judge, or the happiness or misery consequent

upon their conduct, in this and a future state can move them,--then let

them be assured that they deserve to be slaves, and are entitled to

nothing but anguish and tribulation.... Let them forget every duty,

human and divine, remember not that they have children, and beware how

they call to mind the justice of the Supreme Being.

* * * * *

=_Alexander Hamilton, 1757-1804._= (Manual, pp. 484, 486.)

From "Vindication of the Funding System."

=_66._= CHARACTER OF THE DEBT.

A person who, unacquainted with the fact, should learn the history

of our debt from the declamations with which certain newspapers are

perpetually charged, would be led to suppose that it is the mere

creature of the _present_ government, for the purpose of burthening the

people with taxes, and producing an artificial and corrupt influence

over them; he would, at least, take it for granted that it had been

contracted in the pursuit of some wanton or vain project of ambition or

glory; he would scarcely be able to conceive that every part of it was

the relict of a war which had given independence, and preserved liberty

to the country; that the present government found it as it is, in point

of magnitude (except as to the diminutions made by itself), and has done

nothing more than to bring under a regular regimen and provision, what

was before a scattered and heterogeneous mass.

And yet this is the simple and exact state of the business. The whole of

the debt embraced by the provisions of the funding system, consisted of

the unextinguished principal and arrears of interest, of the debt which

had been contracted by the United States in the course of the late war

with Great Britain, and which remained uncancelled, and the principal

and arrears of interest of the separate debts of the respective States

contracted during the same period, which remained, _outstanding, and

unsatisfied, relating to services and supplies for carrying on the war_.

Nothing more was done by that system, than to incorporate these two

species of debt into the mass, and to make for the whole, one general,

comprehensive provision. There is therefore, no arithmetic, no logic,

by which it can be shown that the funding system has augmented the

aggregate debt of the country. The sum total is manifestly the same;

though the parts which were before divided are now united. There is,

consequently, no color for an assertion, that the system in question

either created any _new_ debt, or made any addition to the _old_.

And it follows, that the collective burthen upon the people of the

United States must have been as great _without_ as _with_ the union of

the different portions and descriptions of the debt. The only difference

can be, that without it that burthen would have been otherwise

distributed, and would have fallen with unequal weight, instead of being

equally borne as it now is.

These conclusions which have been drawn respecting the non-increase of

the debt, proceed upon the presumption that every part of the public

debt, as well that of the States individually, as that of the United

States, was to have been honestly paid. If there is any fallacy in this

supposition, the inferences may be erroneous; but the error would imply

the disgrace of the United States, or parts of them,--a disgrace from

which every man of true honor and genuine patriotism will be happy to

see them rescued.

When we hear the epithets, "vile matter," "corrupt mass," bestowed upon

the public debt, and the owners of it indiscriminately maligned as the

harpies and vultures of the community, there is ground to suspect that

those who hold the language, though they may not dare to avow it,

contemplate a more summary process for getting rid of debts than that of

paying them. Charity itself cannot avoid concluding from the language

and conduct of some men, (and some of them of no inconsiderable

importance,) that in their vocabularies _creditor_ and _enemy_ are

synonymous terms, and that they have a laudable antipathy against every

man to whom they owe money, either as individuals or as members of the

society.

* * * * *

From a "Letter to Lafayette," October 6, 1789.

=_67._= THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

I have seen, with a mixture of pleasure and apprehension, the progress

of events which have lately taken place in your country. As a friend to

mankind and to liberty, I rejoice in the efforts which you are making to

establish it, while I fear much for the final success of the attempts,

for the fate of those I esteem who are engaged in them, and for the

danger in case of success, of innovations greater than will consist with

the real felicity of your nation. If your affairs still go well when

this reaches you, you will ask why this foreboding of ill, when all the

appearances have been so much in your favor. I will tell you: I dread

disagreements among those who are now united (which will be likely to be

improved by the adverse party) about the nature of your constitution; I

dread the vehement character of your people, whom I fear you may find it

more easy to bring on, than to keep within proper bounds after you

have put them in motion. I dread the interested refractoriness of your

nobles, who cannot all be gratified, and who may be unwilling to

submit to the requisite sacrifices. And I dread the reveries of your

philosophic politicians, who appear in the moment to have great

influence, and who, being mere speculatists, may aim at more refinement

than suits either with human nature, or the composition of your nation.

* * * * *

=_Fisher Ames, 1738-1808._= (Manual, p. 487.)

From the "Speech on the British Treaty." April 15, 1795.

=_68._= OBLIGATION OF NATIONAL GOOD FAITH.

The consequences of refusing to make provision for the treaty are not

all to be foreseen. By rejecting, vast interests are committed to the

sport of the winds: chance becomes the arbiter of events, and it is

forbidden to human foresight to count their number, or measure their

extent. Before we resolve to leap into this abyss, so dark and so

profound, it becomes us to pause, and reflect upon such of the dangers

as are obvious and inevitable. If this assembly should be wrought into

a temper to defy these consequences, it is vain, it is deceptive, to

pretend that we can escape them. It is worse than weakness to say, that

as to public faith, our vote has already settled the question. Another

tribunal than our own is already erected; the public opinion, not merely

of our own country, but of the enlightened world, will pronounce a

judgment that we cannot resist, that we dare not even affect to despise.

... This, sir, is a cause that would be dishonored and betrayed if I

contented myself with appealing only to the understanding. It is too

cold, and its processes are too slow, for the occasion. I desire to

thank God that since he has given me an intellect so fallible, he has

impressed upon me an instinct that is sure. On a question of shame and

honor, reasoning is sometimes useless, and worse. I feel the decision in

my pulse; if it throws no light upon the brain, it kindles a fire at the

heart.

What is patriotism? Is it a narrow affection for the spot where a man

was born? Are the very clods where we tread entitled to this ardent

preference, because they are greener? No, sir, this is not the character

of the virtue, and it soars higher for its object. It is an extended

self-love, mingling with all the enjoyments of life, and twisting itself

with the minutest filaments of the heart. It is thus we obey the laws of

society, because they are the laws of virtue. In their authority we

see not the array of force and terror, but the venerable image of our

country's honor. Every good citizen makes that honor his own, and

cherishes it not only as precious, but as sacred. He is willing to risk

his life in its defence; and is conscious that he gains protection,

while he gives it. For what rights of a citizen will be deemed

inviolable, when a state renounces the principles that constitute

their security? Or, if his life should not be invaded, what would

its enjoyments be in a country odious in the eyes of strangers, and

dishonored in his own? Could he look with affection and veneration to

such a country as his parent? The sense of having one would die within

him; he would blush for his patriotism, if he retained any, and justly.

for it would be a vice; he would be a banished man in his native land.

I see no exception to the respect that is paid among nations to the law

of good faith. If there are cases in this enlightened period when it

is violated, then are none when it is decried. It is the philosophy of

politics, the religion of governments. It is observed by barbarians; a

whiff of tobacco smoke, or a string of beads, gives not merely binding

force, but sanctity, to treaties. Even in Algiers, a truce may be bought

for money; but when ratified, even Algiers is too wise or too just, to

disown and annul its obligation. Thus we see, neither the ignorance of

savages, nor the principles of an association for piracy and rapine,

permit a nation to despise its engagements. If, sir, there could be a

resurrection from the foot of the gallows, if the victims of justice

could live again, collect together, and form a society, they would,

however loath, soon find themselves obliged to make justice, that

justice under which they fell, the fundamental law of their state. They

would perceive it was their interest to make others respect, and they

would, therefore, soon pay some respect themselves, to the obligations

of good faith.

* * * * *

=_Gouverneur Morris, 1752-1816._= (Manual, p. 484.)

From a "Report to Congress in 1780."

=_69._= QUALIFICATIONS OF A MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS.

A minister of foreign affairs should have a genius quick, lively,

penetrating; should write on all occasions with clearness and

perspicuity; be capable of expressing his sentiments with dignity, and

conveying strong sense and argument in easy and agreeable diction; his

temper mild, cool, and placid; festive, insinuating, and pliant, yet

obstinate; communicative, and yet reserved. He should know the human

face and heart, and the connections between them; should be versed

in the laws of nature and nations, and not ignorant of the civil and

municipal law; should be acquainted with the history of Europe, and with

the interests, views, commerce, and productions of the commercial and

maritime powers; should know the interests and commerce of America,

understand the French and Spanish languages, at least the former, and be

skilled in the modes and forms of public business; a man educated more

in the world than in the closet, that by use, as well as by nature, he

may give proper attention to great objects, and have proper contempt for

small ones. He should be attached to the independence of America, and

the alliance with France, as the great pillars of our politics; and this

attachment should not be slight and accidental, but regular, consistent,

and founded in strong conviction. His manners, gentle and polite;

above all things, honest, and least of all things, avaricious. His

circumstances and connections should be such as to give solid pledges

for his fidelity; and he should by no means be disagreeable to the

prince with whom we are in alliance, his ministers, or subjects.

* * * * *

=_William Pinkney,[21] 1764-1820._=

From "Speech in the Maryland Legislature." 1798.

=_70._= RESPONSIBILITY FOR SLAVERY.

For my own part, I would willingly draw the veil of oblivion over this

disgusting scene of iniquity, but that the present abject state of those

who are descended from these kidnapped sufferers, perpetually brings it

forward to the memory.

But wherefore should we confine the edge of censure to our ancestors,

or those from whom they purchased? Are not we equally guilty? _They_

strewed around the seeds of slavery; _we_ cherish and sustain the

growth. _They_ introduce the system; _we_ enlarge, invigorate, and

confirm it. Yes, let it be handed down to posterity, that the people of

Maryland, who could fly to arms with the promptitude of Roman citizens,

when the hand of oppression was lifted up against themselves; who could

behold their country desolated and their citizens slaughtered; who could

brave with unshaken firmness every calamity of war before they would

submit to the smallest infringement of their rights--that this very

people could yet see thousands of their fellow-creatures, within the

limits of their territory, bending beneath an unnatural yoke, and,

instead of being assiduous to destroy their shackles, be anxious to

immortalize their duration, so that a nation of slaves might forever

exist in a country whose freedom is its boast.

[Footnote 21: Highly distinguished as a lawyer, orator, and diplomatist;

a native of Maryland.]

* * * * *

From "Speech in the Nereide Case."

=_71._= WAR, AND AMERICAN BELLIGERENT RIGHTS.

I throw into the opposite scale the ponderous claim of War; a claim of

high concernment, not to us only, but to the world; a claim connected

with the maritime strength of this maritime state, with public honor and

individual enterprise, with all those passions and motives which can be

made subservient to national success and glory, in the hour of national

trial and danger. I throw into the same scale the venerable code of

universal law, before which it is the duty of this Court, high as it is

in dignity, and great as are its titles to reverence, to bow down with

submission, I throw into the same scale a solemn treaty, binding upon

the claimant and upon you. In a word, I throw into that scale the rights

of belligerent America, and, as embodied with them, the rights of these

captors, by whose efforts and at whose cost the naval exertions of the

government have been seconded, until our once despised and drooping flag

has been made to wave in triumph, where neither France nor Spain could

venture to show a prow. You may call these rights by what name you

please. You may call them _iron_ rights:--I care not. It is more than

enough for me that they are RIGHTS. It is more than enough for me that

they come before you encircled and adorned by the laurels which we have

torn from the brow of the naval genius of England: that they come before

you recommended, and endeared, and consecrated by a thousand

recollections, which it would be baseness and folly not to cherish, and

that they are mingled in fancy and in fact with all the elements of our

future greatness....

We are now, thank God, once more at peace. Our belligerent rights may

therefore sleep for a season. May their repose be long and profound! But

the time must arrive when the interests and honor of this great nation

will command them to awake; and when it does arrive, I feel undoubting

confidence that they will rise from their slumber in the fullness of

their strength and majesty, unenfeebled and unimpaired by the judgment

of this high court.

The skill and valor of our infant navy, which has illuminated every sea,

and dazzled the master states of Europe by the splendor of its triumphs,

have given us a pledge which I trust will continue to be dear to every

American heart, and to influence the future course of our policy, that

the ocean is destined to acknowledge the youthful dominion of the West.

* * * * *

=_James Madison, 1751-1836._= (Manual, p. 486.)

From his "Report of Debates in the Federal Convention."

=_72._= VALUE OF A RECORD OF THE DEBATES.

The close of the war, however, brought no cure for the public

embarrassments. The states relieved from the pressure of foreign danger,

and flushed with the enjoyment of independent and sovereign power,

instead of a diminished disposition to part with it, persevered in

omissions, and in measures, incompatible with their relations to the

federal government, and with those among themselves.

... It was known that there were individuals who had betrayed a bias

towards monarchy, and there had always been some not unfavorable to a

partition of the Union into several confederacies; either from a better

chance of figuring on a sectional theatre, or that the sections would

require stronger governments, or by their hostile conflicts lead to a

monarchical consolidation. The idea of dismemberment had recently made

its appearance in the newspapers.

Such were the defects, the deformities, the diseases, and the ominous

prospects, for which the convention were to provide a remedy, and

which ought never to be overlooked in expounding and appreciating the

constitutional charter--the remedy that was provided.

The curiosity I had felt during my researches into the history of the

most distinguished confederacies, particularly those of antiquity, and

the deficiency I found in the means of satisfying it, more especially

in what related to the process, the principles, the reasons, and the

anticipations, which prevailed in the formation of them, determined me

to preserve, as far as I could, an exact account of what might pass in

the convention whilst executing its trust--with the magnitude of which

I was fully impressed, as I was by the gratification promised to future

curiosity by an authentic exhibition of the objects, the opinions, and

the reasonings, from which the new system of government was to receive

its peculiar structure and organization. Nor was I unaware of the value

of such a contribution to the fund of materials for the history of a

constitution, on which would be staked the happiness of a people great

even in its infancy, and possibly the cause of liberty throughout the

world.

Of the ability and intelligence of those who composed the Convention

the debates and proceedings may be a test, as the character of the work

which was the offspring of their deliberations must be tested by the

experience of the future added to that of nearly half a century that has

passed.

But whatever may be the judgment pronounced on the competency of the

architects of the Constitution, or whatever may be the destiny of the

edifice prepared by them, I feel it a duty to express my profound and

solemn conviction, derived from my intimate opportunity of observing and

appreciating the views of the Convention, collectively and individually,

that there never was an assembly of men, charged with a great, and

arduous trust, who were more pure in their motives, or more exclusively

or anxiously devoted to the object committed to them, than were the

members of the Federal Convention of 1787, to the object of devising and

proposing a constitutional system which should best supply the defects

of that which it was to replace, and best secure the permanent liberty

and happiness of their country.

* * * * *

=_73._= INSCRIPTION FOR A STATUE OF WASHINGTON.

The General Assembly of Virginia have caused this statue to be erected

as a monument of affection and gratitude to George Washington, who,

uniting to the endowments of the hero the virtues of the patriot, and

exerting both in establishing the liberties of his country, has rendered

his name dear to his fellow-citizens, and given to the world an immortal

example of true glory.

* * * * *

=_John Randolph, 1773-1832._= (Manual, p. 487.)

From a Speech in the Virginia Convention.

=_74._= "CHANGE IS NOT REFORM."

Sir, I see no wisdom in making this provision for future changes. You

must give Governments time to operate on the People, and give the People

time to become gradually assimilated to their institutions. Almost any

thing is better than this state of perpetual uncertainty. A People may

have the best form of Government that the wit of man ever devised, and

yet, from its uncertainty alone, may, in effect, live under the worst

Government in the world. Sir, how often must I repeat, that _change_ is

not _reform?_ I am willing that this new Constitution shall stand as

long as it is possible for it to stand; and that, believe me, is a very

short time. Sir, it is vain to deny it. They may say what they please

about the old Constitution,--the defect is not there. It is not in the

form of the old edifice,--neither in the design nor in the elevation; it

is in the _material_, it is in the People of Virginia. To my knowledge

that People are changed from what they have been. The four hundred men

who went out with David were _in debt_. The fellow-laborers of Catiline

were _in debt_. The partizans of Caesar were _in debt_. And I defy you

to show me a desperately indebted People, anywhere, who can bear a

regular, sober Government. I throw the challenge to all who hear me. I

say that the character of the good old Virginia planter,--the man who

owned from five to twenty slaves, or less, who, lived by hard work, and

who paid his debts,--is passed away. A new order of things is come. The

period has arrived of living by one's wits; of living by contracting

debts that one cannot pay; and above all, of living by office-hunting.

Sir, what do we see? Bankrupts,--branded bankrupts,--giving great

dinners, sending their children to the most expensive schools, giving

grand parties, and just as well received as anybody in society! I say

that, in such a state of things, the old Constitution was too good for

them,--they could not bear it. No, Sir; they could not bear a freehold

suffrage, and a property representation. I have always endeavored to do

the People justice; but I will not flatter them,--I will not pander to

their appetite for change. I will do nothing to provide for change. I

will not agree to any rule of future apportionment, or to any provision

for future changes, called amendments to the Constitution. Those who

love change,--who delight in public confusion, who wish to feed the

cauldron, and make it bubble,--may vote if they please for future

changes. But by what spell, by what formula, are you going to bind the

People to all future time? The days of Lycurgus are gone by, when we

could swear the People not to alter the Constitution until he should

return. You may make what entries on parchment you please; give me a

Constitution that will last for half a century; that is all I wish for.

No Constitution that you can make will last the one-half of half a

century. Sir, I will stake anything, short of my salvation, that those

who are malcontent now, will be more malcontent, three years hence, than

they are at this day. I have no favor for this Constitution. I shall

vote against its adoption, and I shall advise all the people of my

district to set their faces, aye, and their shoulders, too, against it.

* * * * *

From "Letters to a young Relative."

=_75._= THE ERROR OF DECAYED FAMILIES.

One of the best and wisest men I ever knew has often said to me that a

decayed family could never recover its loss of rank in the world,

until the members of it left off talking and dwelling upon its former

opulence. This remark, founded in a long and clear observation

of mankind, I have seen verified in numerous instances in my own

connections, who, to use the words of my oracle, will never thrive until

they can become poor folks. He added, they may make some struggles, and

with apparent success, to recover lost ground; they may, and sometimes

do, get half way up again; but they are sure to fall back, unless,

reconciling themselves to circumstances, they become in form, as well as

in fact, poor folks.

* * * * *

=_James Kent, 1763-1847._= (Manual, pp. 488, 504.)

From "Commentaries on American Law."

=_76._= LAW OF THE STATES.

The judicial power of the United States is necessarily limited to

national objects. The vast field of the law of property, the very

extensive head of equity jurisdiction, and the principal rights and

duties which flow from our civil and domestic relations, fall within the

control, and we might almost say the exclusive cognizance, of the state

governments. We look essentially to the state courts for protection to

all these momentous interests. They touch, in their operation, every

chord of human sympathy, and control our best destinies. It is their

province to reward and to punish. Their blessings and their terrors will

accompany us to the fireside, and "be in constant activity before the

public eye." The elementary principles of the common law are the same

in every state, and equally enlighten and invigorate every part of our

country. Our municipal codes can be made to advance with equal steps

with that of the nation, in discipline, in wisdom, and in lustre, if the

state governments (as they ought in all honest policy) will only render

equal patronage and security to the administration of justice. The true

interests and the permanent freedom of this country require that the

jurisprudence of the individual states should be cultivated, cherished,

and exalted, and the dignity and reputation of the state authorities

sustained, with becoming pride. In their subordinate relation to the

United States, they should endeavor to discharge the duty which they

owe to the latter, without forgetting the respect which they owe to

themselves. In the appropriate language of Sir William Blackstone,

and which he applies to the people of his own country, they should be

"loyal, yet free; obedient, yet independent."

* * * * *

=_Edward Livingston,[22] 1764-1836._=

From the "Report on the Penal Code for Louisiana."

=_77._= THE PROPER OFFICE OF THE JUDGE.

Judges are generally men who have grown old in the practice at the bar.

With the knowledge which this experience gives, they acquire a habit,

very difficult to be shaken off, of taking a side in every question that

they hear debated, and when the mind is once enlisted, their passions,

prejudices, and professional ingenuity are always arrayed on the same

side, and furnish arms for the contest. Neutrality cannot, under

these circumstances, be expected; but the law should limit as much as

possible, the evil that this almost inevitable state of things must

produce. In the theory of our law, judges are the counsel for the

accused, in practice they are, with a few honorable exceptions, his most

virulent prosecutors. The true principles of criminal jurisprudence

require that they should be neither. Perfect impartiality is

incompatible with these duties. A good judge should have no wish that

the guilty should escape, or that the innocent should suffer; no false

pity, no undue severity, should bias the unshaken rectitude of

his judgment; calm in deliberation, firm in resolve, patient in

investigating the truth, tenacious of it when discovered, he should join

urbanity of manners, to dignity of demeanor, and an integrity above

suspicion, to learning and talent; such a judge is what, according to

the true structure of our courts, he ought to be,--the protector, not

the advocate of the accused; his judge, not his accuser; and while

executing these functions, he is the organ by which the sacred will

of the law is pronounced. Uttered by such a voice, it will be heard,

respected, felt, obeyed; but impose on him the task of argument, of

debate; degrade him from the bench to the bar; suffer him to overpower

the accused with his influence, or to enter the lists with his advocate,

to carry on the contest of sophisms, of angry arguments, of tart

replies, and all the wordy war of forensic debate; suffer him to do

this, and his dignity is lost; his decrees are no longer considered as

the oracles of the law; they are submitted to, but not respected; and

even the triumph of his eloquence or ingenuity, in the conviction of the

accused, must be lessened by the suspicion that it has owed its success

to official influence, and the privilege of arguing without reply. For

these reasons, the judge is forbidden to express any opinion on the

facts which are alleged in evidence, much less to address any argument

to the jury; but his functions are confined to expounding the law, and

stating the points of evidence on which the recollection of the jury may

differ.

[Footnote 22: Was born in New York; eminent as a statesman, and as the

author of a code of laws for Louisiana, his adopted state.]

* * * * *

=_John Quincy Adams, 1767-1848._= (Manual, pp. 487, 504.)

From the "Speech on the Right of Petition."

=_78._= THE RIGHT OF PETITION UNIVERSAL.

Sir, it is well known, that, from the time I entered this House, down to

the present day, I have felt it a sacred duty to present any petition,

couched in respectful language, from any citizen of the United States,

be its object what it may; be the prayer of it that in which I could

concur, or that to which I was utterly opposed. It is for the sacred

right of petition that I have adopted this course.... Where is your law

which says that the mean, and the low, and the degraded, shall be

deprived of the right of petition, if their moral character is not good?

Where, in the land of freemen, was the right of petition ever placed on

the exclusive basis of morality and virtue? Petition is

_supplication_--it is _entreaty_--it is _prayer!_ And where is the

degree of vice or immorality which shall deprive the citizen of the

right to _supplicate_ for a boon, or to _pray for mercy!_ Where is such

a law to be found?... And what does your law say? Does it say that,

before presenting a petition, you shall look into it, and see whether it

comes from the virtuous, and the great, and the mighty. No, sir; it says

no such thing. The right of petition belongs to _all_. And so far from

refusing to present a petition because it might come from those low in

the estimation of the world, it, would be an additional incentive, if

such incentive were wanting.

* * * * *

From a "Discourse on the Jubilee of the Constitution."

=_79._= THE ADMINISTRATION OF WASHINGTON.

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It is well for those who have sufficient wealth, to bring among us good