THE NEW ENGLANDER. No. XVII. JANUARY, 1847. GREECE .~ THERE is a passage in a letter of Sulpicius to Cicero, which will not soon be forgotten by those who have read the correspondence of the great orator with his friends. Cicero had lost his daughter Tullia, and to con- sole him, or rather to divert his at- tention from his calamity, his friend suggests to him instances of still greater evils. On my return from Asia, says he, while I was sail- ing from JEgina towards Megara, I began to take a view of the regions round about. Behind me was ~Egi- na; before me Megara; on the right Peirreus, on the left Corinth; which towns at one time were ex- tremely flourishing, but now lie pros- trate and ruined before the eye. I began to have reflections like these. Ah! we little men think it a hard thing, if any of our number has died or is slain, though it is our portion to be short lived; while in one spot so many corpses of cities lie prostrate on the ground. It is impossible from the spot where Sulpicius represents himself to have indulged in these reflections, to have a view of Corinth; only its con- ical acropolis rising to an elevation of * Greece of the Greeks, by C. A. Per- dicaris. New York: 1846. Peloponnesiaca, by Col. Leake. Lon- don: 1846. VOL.V. 1 1800 feet, is in sight, and he meant perhaps nothing more than that Co- rinth lay towards his left at a moder- ate distaQce without being visible. But with this deduction, the words which we have quoted are an accu- rate account of the scene as presented to the eye. The traveler sees from his cafque as he looks northward, the modern town of Megara, situ- ated on the site of the citadel of its ancient namesake. Behind, and to the left of it, towers Mount Geraneia to the height of 4500 feet, rising directly from the sea, and allowing only a pathway, somewhat dreaded by the ancients, towards the Isthmus of Corinth. As you look towards the Peloponnesian coast, the scantily inhabited island of Angitri fills a large space in the view, but beyond it rise the hills of Epidaurus, and above them Mount Cyllcne, one of the highest and most generally visi- ble ridges in this quarter of Greece, attaining an elevation of nearly 8000 feet, and wearing a snowy mantle until into summer. Behind lies the cultivated plain of A~gina, wi ththe modern town near the site of the ancient, under lofty mountains. If you are sailing towards Athens, you w~tl soon come in sight of the north- western point of the island, and see above it on a high ridge the ruins of 2 Greece. [Jan. the temple of Jupiter Panhellenius, which perhaps more than any other ruins in Greece, arrest the eye by the picturesqueness of their situa- tion. And when you turn your eye from Megara in a western direction, you see successively Mount Cerata now Mount Candiliwhose two prominent horns as seen from some points, reveal at once the signifi- cance of the name; the island of Salamis, with its varying outline, pleasing to the eye but deficient in unity; and the mountains of Attica, Hymettus and Pentelicus, (Pamnes perhaps being hidden by Salamis,) under which the acropolis and the kings palace may be descried at a distance of thirteen or fourteen miles. The best commentary on the words of Sulpicius, in one spot so many corpses of cities, (in uno loco tot oppid~m cadavera,) is, to stand on the top of some central mountain in Greece, and mark off in your mind the number of ancient repub- lics which can be embraced in one view. Let a person climb for in- stance, to the summit of the Acro- corinthus, and from that fortified spot which we trust the Turks have now deserted for ever, count the no- ticeable regions upon which his eye alights. Below him is the territory of old Corinth itself, with its isth- mus and extensive plain now de- voted in part to the cultivation of the seedless grape or currant, which has derived its name from the re- gion. On the left of this plain as he looks northwards, he sees the commencement of the lands of Si- cyon, that oldest of regions in the chronology of fable. Across the sea directly before him rise the huge masses of Parnassus, with land be- low once occupied by people of Phocian and Locrian extraction. Lie can too, we believe, see Mount Heli- con in this quarter, and thus in a man- ner bring Bceotia into view. On the opposite side to the south, he will be almost bewildered by a crowd of mountains in Argolis and Arcadia, with the ever present Cyl- lene towering over all. If he look toward the other sea, the republic of gina will be in open sight. Me- gara will be descriedits mountain we mean, towards the east, while through a depression in the island of Salamis, Athens itself, though forty miles distant, may be discovered in a clear day. Indeed the kings new palace, and if we mistake not, the Parthenon has been seen from this elevation, even at a time when the at- mosphere was not hazy. Thus from one spot a view may be gained of the territory belonging to nine Grecian states or confederations, five of which played an important part in history. No where do the supremacy of the intellect of one nation above an- other, the advantages afforded by situation, and the peculiar plan which divine Providence has pursued in educating mankind, impress them- selves so strongly on the mind, as when one stands on such a central elevation, and traces the history of ancient times. You may travel over the immense plain of Russia, from St. Petersburg to Moscow, and from Moscow to Odessa, and behold in all that vast region a race that has done no single thing having an impor- tant bearing on the history of civil- ization and of mankind; while one of these little states within this nar- row horizon which bounds the view from Acrocorinthus has given laws in artand literature to the world, and has set an example of free institutions and of resistance to eastern despot- ism which has been contagious wher- ever knowledge has spread. Nor is this owing to original endowments only, but favorable position also comes in for its share of influence. How wonderfully varied, how filled with sheltered nooks and harbors is this coast of Greece! How the gulf of Corinth runs up almost to the shores of the Saronic gulf, as if to invite the adventurers from the west and the east to meet upon the isth- mus and exchange their wares! 1847.] Greece. 3 HOW little isolated rocks rise here and there at the right distances from the water, as if to afford protection to sea-faring communities in half barbarous times! [low the pros- pect from their summits makes men acquainted with distant regions, stim- ulates their curiosity, and inclines them to explore that of which they can catch an imperfect but inviting view! Nor is it unlike what is else- where ordained, that a narrow tract should play so great a part in human affairs. God seems to choose some small territory, some central point, in blessing mankind with art, law, religion. It was Judea, and espe- ciallv one part of it, which became the religious capital of the human race. It was Greece, and in Greece, the little country of Attica, which gave birth to art, literature and lib- erty. It was a little town of Italy, in a position by no means favorable, which by its energy and unity of plan, grew into the lawgiver and the mistress of mankind. And so it may be New England which will shape the character of this continent. The insignificant size of the terri- tories of some Greek states, gives birth to a feeling of scepticism, and tempts one not only to lay to the account of poetry, descriptions of early magnificence, like those we find in Homer, but also to distrust the narratives of sober history itself. If the owner of three or four quarter sections in one of our western states were to be suddenly carried to the ruins of Mycen~, rich in gold, and the capital of Agamem non, king of men, he would certainly not be willing to sell out, in ex- change for a principality in the land of the Atridte, and would probably come away with a great contempt for Greece, and for any one who troubled himself about such a coun- try. Indeed, a scholar when he stands in the citadel of Mycente, wonders how a city so renowned in ancient times, could have existed oaly two hours ride from Argos, and a little farther from Tiryns, away from the sea, with no natural resources but the use of a portion of the Argive plain, and of the sheep pastures upon desolate mountains. The ruins of this remarkable spot, which are precisely as Pausanias saw them, attest not only by their style its extreme antiquity, but also by their size its extent, in those remote times of which epic poetry is the only record. How three con- siderable places, as Mycen~e, Tiryns and Argos, could have flourished ia such close vicinity, seems unac- countable, unless we take into the view the fact that a powerful race of chieftains were able to promote the prosperity of these states by redu- cing under their sway a considerable portion of the peninsula. The changes which began ia Greece before the time of Sulpicius, and ~vhich powerfully affected his feelings, are still the great source of the interest which that country af- fords. We might in this article dwell long upon the ruins of the past, and perhaps succeed in retaining the interest of our readers; but as our principal concern is with modern Greece, we will dismiss the past from our view, except as to one or two particulars where it stands ia contrast with the present time. This contrast is in no place so striking as where modern towns, the abodes of poverty, rise amid the rtiins of an- cient renown. Sulpicius had no such melancholy view before his eyes as that of filthy hovels, built in a day, and perhaps hardly able to stand against a driving rain, spring- ing up in the neighborhood of tall fluted columns, or theatres cut out of the rock, or Cyclopean walls. Most of these new settlements, if they should tell their story, would speak of more than one destructioa since the times of the Roman etn- perors; of irruptions of the Vandals; of Turkish and Byzantine and Von- itian sway, alternately closed by de- vastation; and lastly, of dreadful 4 Greece. vicissitudes during the late war of liberation. A. number of the largest towns have risen into being again since the battle of Navarino. Athens was nearly in ruins when it was chosen, without sufficient reason, to be the capital of the kingdom. New Sparta has also, since that period, come into existence on the site of its old namesake, and bids fair to be the ruin of Mistra, some four miles distant. Since the pacification, Ar- gos has run up its mud hovels with great rapidity, and numbers a host of artizans, cultivators and vintners. rhebes rears its head again on the top of the old citadel, a populous village with scarcely a decent house. Nor are the changes in the nat- ural features, since the time when Sulpicius wrote his letter, unworthy of observation. The first thing which strikes the eyes in Attica and some other parts, is the great want of wood upon the mountains, and that, too, where forests were sp& ken of by the ancients. We might suppose that the diminished population and small amount of land under culture, would have produced just the opposite ef- fect, that forests would have grown up even on the plains. But war, neglect, and time have each had its influence. rphe trees having disap- peared, the soil which was made out of their leaves and bound together by their roots, has been washed down into the plains, whose level is of course raised. To this same cause perhaps is to be ascribed, in part, the dwindling a~vay of rivers known to ancient song. The rains are poured all at once from the naked hills, instead of bciog saved for some time in the soil of elevated spots and oozing down gradually towards the vallies. We may well suppose that Father Inachus would be exagger- ated in his dimensions by poets, who had never seen a large river, but we can not conceive that a stream, which is now dry in the month of March, should have been spoken of, even in mythical p~try, as being navigable. It is, we believe, rare for any one, except in the winter, to see running water in the Ilissus; and yet the remains of a high bridge con~ necting Athens with the stadium, seem to show that it could not have been always so dry as it now is. Xerxes is said to have been unable to cross the Cephissus, which can now be forded safely in a carriage. The accumulation of the soil among and upon ancient remains has often ex- cited the surprise of travelers. This is less wonderful in that part of modern Athens which lies under the acropolis, for the mouldering build- ings of the ancient city may be part- ly the cause of this rise of level; but when one visits such a spot as My- cen~, which has been unpeopled and houseless for ages, and sees how, on the top of the hill, the soil is raised within the acropolis nearly to the level with the top of the walls, the accumulation can not be so easily accounted for. Underneath the soil which has been gathering for so many centuries, no doubt many pre- cious remains of ancient art lie buried; and it is one of the bad con- sequences of establishing the gov- ernment at Athens, that the erec- tion of modern hovels in the very spot where these treasures may be concealed, must keep them for a long time from the eyes of antiqua- ries. Before the time of Sulpicius and Cicero, Greece began to decay in pop- ulation, and it has never regained the numbers with which, notwithstand- ing continual emigration ,it swarmed in its golden days of independence. The Greek writers who lived un- der the Roman emperors of the two first centuries, give ample testimony to the poverty, scantiness of popu- lation and desolation of Greece. Strabo, who flourished under Augus- tus and Tiberius, tells a doleful tale of the decay everywhere existing, especially in Arcadia, Bceotia and Epirus. Dio Chrysostom, under Trajan, represents Thessaly as deso 1847.] Greece. late, and the most important town of Eubo~a as a picture of ruin within and without the walls. Plutarch, about the same time, says that the ~vhole of Greece could hardly fur- nish three thousand heavy armed troopsthe number which so insig- nificant a state as Megara sent to the battle of Plata~a. This, no doubt, is a rhetorical statement, but as all writers concur in one story, we can not doubt that a blight rested on Greece from the time when the Ro- mans first interfered in its affairs. And if all their wars had ended in destruction similar to that inflicted by PaulusiEmilius upon theEpirots of whose towns seventy were ruined in one day, and 150,000 persons re- duced to slaverypossibly we might consider this depopulation as the fruit of war. But even in such an extreme case as this, the losses sup- plied by war might be filled up in a len uth of time ; and we know that ordinary war makes no sensible diminution, after a very few years, in the population of a country. The true cause, undoubtedly, was loss of independence, dejection and broken- ness of spirit, together with the spread of Greek civilization over a wider field, diffusing her arts and sources of prosperity, and inviting her enterprising citizens abroad to larger centres of wealth and power. The population of Greece at the present time, is probably not more than one third of that which existed in the same country during the fourth and fifth centuries before Christ. Mr. Clinton, on what seem to be good grounds, estimates the number of inhabitants in ancient Peloponne- sus, Bceotia and Attica, to be about 1,700,000. The present kingdom of Greece, contained in 1840, 856,470 souls, in a territory including not only the regions already named, but also Megara, Phocis, part of Thes- saly, ~Etolia and Acarnania, as well as Eubea and several other islands. We only wonder, considering the oppression of the Turks, the despon dency of the people under an odious government, and the little encour- age ment to any thing except com- merce, that the population has not dwindled away still more remarka- bly. It has however begun to in- crease since the kingdom of Greece has been established, and to some extent by emigration from the Turk- ish provinces. Unhappily, as we shall soon have occasion to mention, the government has pursued a course well adapted to discourage the tiller of the soil, and to check public pros- perity, so that even Turkish oppres- sion might on some accounts be more desirable. A large number of the present in- habitants of Greece have no doubt the blood of classic times flowing iii their veins. In Attica, indeed, and Bceotia, Albanians constitute the majority of the settlers; and emi- grants of this stock are numerous also in the Morea and some of the islands. There are likewise a few inhabitants of Sclavonic stock in the Morea, and Wal lachian shepherds are to be found in ZEtolia and Thessaly. The Turks who were considerably numerous in the towns before the late ~var, have been driven out of the country. With all the mixture which we have mentioned, the Greek blood and language predominate yet it must not be supposed that the pure I)orians of Sparta, or the ori- ginal families of Athens, have rep- resentatives at the present day. Even before the time of Alexander the Great, Sparta had so declined in Dorian population, that liberated slaves began to fill its ranks in battle, and to form the bulk of its citizens. Athens had a still more impure and mixed description of inhabitants. Its citizens of genuine Attic extrac- tion kept their ranks pretty pure as long as the privilege of citizenship was a thing of importance; as long as each judge and assembly-man re- ceived pay for his days work from a treasury filled by the contributions of oppressed dependent states. But 6 Greece. we question whether the ratio of these indigenous Athenians to the whole population after the age of Al- exander, was much greater than that which persons of pure Dutch de- scent in New York bear to the rest of the citizens. In the countries al- ready named, and perhaps every where, persons wholly or in part of slave extraction, took the place of freemen,as they did ton considerable exent even at Rome under the em- perors. In the regions under the government of Sparta, these slaves or serfs were chiefly of Greek line- age, while at Athens they were universally foreigners. The p res- ent Albanian inhabitants of Attica, settled, if we are correctly informed, in tracts which they found entirely unoccupied and desolate. Among the modern representa- tives of the Greek stock, the Tzako- nes and the Maniates deserve a par- ticular mention. The former, who have been seldom visited by travel- ers, occupy a number of villages in a mountainous region on the west coast of the Argolic gulf, within the limits of ancient Laconia. Their territory forms a part of that which the emperor Augustus assigned to the republic of the Eleuthero-La- conesa little independent commu- nity under the protection of the Ro- mans, consisting of twenty four towns, previously subject to Sparta. rfhis petty republic must have con- tinued in existence for a considera- ble period, since we find its form of governmentstill preserved when Pau- sanias traveled in Greece, two hun- dred years after the age of Augustus. As the portion of this community, whose dwelling place is now occu- pied by the Pzakones, had little in its barren fastnesses and insignifi- cant harbors to invite conquerors to settle there, it is in itself probable that they would escape intermixture withforeigners. Some have indeed thought that those Sclavonic im- migrants who entered the Pelopon- nesus in the middle ages and who have given names significant in their own language, to one tenth of the villages of the peninsula, found their way here also; but this opinion seems to be unsupported by the peculiari- ties of the Tzakonian dialect. These peculiarities are to the Ilellenist and antiquary, of remarkable in- terest. They have been investiga- ted by the learned Bavarian scholar, Thiersch, who xvent among them and learned their words and gram- matical forms from the mouths of shepherds. With a good deal of softness they unite more character- istics of the old Doric dialect than are preserved in any other of the sub- dialects of modern Greece. Anum- ber of old Greek words also, which are obsolete elsewhere, are still in vogue among the Tzakones; but as this is true of some other unfre- quented spots, as for instance of some of the islands in the Archipe- lago, it is only a proof that they are aside from the flood of change in language which has swept over most parts of Greece. A very striking peculiarity is a compound present and imperfect answering to I am, or was writing; composed of the root, under a participial form both mascu- line and feminine, united to the verb to be, by means of the letter R. Thus ~~95OU and ~Aq~a are the very strange forms of the active partici- ple, and ~ the first person present of the substantive verb. From these elements, with the help of the union consonant R, comes czq~ov t, I (a man) write, and r~a~ I (a wo- man) write. This and other pecul- iarities, Prof Thiersch is not willing to consider as new forms of lan- guage adopted since the ancient Greek flourished in its purity, but goes much farther back to the Pe- lasgic mother tongue of the Greek, which may have been spoken on this spot a thousand years or more before the Christian era. As we know nothing of the grammatical forms of the Pelasgic or primeval Greek language, it is obvious that 1847.] Greece. 7 such an opinion is as baseless as it is incapable of being disproved. The only shadow of support for it is that in the neighborhood of these Tzakones, there dwelt in early times a tribe called the Cynurii, of Ionic extraction, and the only tribe of that race remaining in the peninsula when Herodotus wrote, whose pe- culiarities of an Ionic Pelasgic sort may be now perpetuated in or near the same district. The name Tza- konia seems in the middle ages to have been applied to the southern part of the Morea, and there is good reason for regarding it as an unusual corruption of Laconia, so that these rude people have retained the name of their father-land slightly modified. They have, like the other moun- taineers in Greece and elsewhere, kept up a feeling of personal inde- pendence. Some of them used to wander abroad and keep shops in the large towns of Turkey, like the inhabitants of valleys in the Apen- nines, expecting to return when they had gained a competence, and end their days on their beloved rock- bound coast. This little district is chiefly inter- esting to the scholar: the district of Mani, on the other hand, has as- sumed some importance in the history of the Morea. It lies a little farther to the south, and includes the whole of that promontory made by Mount Taygetus,which ends in the vI~a~narian cape now called Matapan. It is in part exceedingly barren, and suffers from want of water. Its coast is provided with some tolera- ble harbors, ~vhich formerly allured the inhabitants to commerce and piracy. Its productions under an enlightened and stable government, would be of considerable impor- tance. Those which are of value for exportation are chiefly the val- lon6a, or acorn of the Quercus a~gt- lops, which is used in tanning and dyeing; the kermes or red dye ob- tained from the Quercus coccifera; oak galls, silk, excellent olive oil, cot- ton, honey, and salted quails. The quails come from across the sea in immense flocks, and are taken alive. The Maniates are a very peculiar tribe. Like their neighbors whom we have already described, they have always been famed for their warlike and independent spirit; and probably like them, they are de- scendants of the Periceci, or towns which submitted to the government of Sparta, to the loss of a part of their liberties. The peaceable tem- per which the forefathers showed during the historic times of Sparta, has left their descendants, giving place to a spirit of clanship, feuds and blood-revenge, which until very recent times, has produced a state of warfare between neighboring vil- lages and even between families. There are at this time men in Mani, it is said, who never go abroad by daylight for fear of being shot, while the females of hostile families visit freely among themselves. In a population which was reckoned, when Col. Leake travelled through the country in 1805, at 30,000, there were 10,000 muskets. Their weap- ons of death they then used not only in deadly feuds, but also in assas- sinations. The following extract from Col. Leakes travels, illustrates their state of civilization. The son of a priest had by accident killed a boy, a retation of another priest. The tatter papas declared war against the former, which is done in Mani in a format manner, by crying out in the streets. The first papt~s went to his church to say mass with pistols in his girdle, such being a common custom in Mani; but as is usual in such cases, he laid them behind the altar on assuming the robe in which the priest performs divine service. The other papt~s entered the church with some of his party, and the instant the office was concluded, walked up to his enemy, who was still in his robes, and fired a pistol at him, ~vhicb flashed in the pan; the lat- ter then running behind the altar, seized his arms, shot his enemy and one of his adherents, and drove all the rest out of the church. The affair was then settled by the interposition of the hey himself, in whose village it had happened. A compo- sition in money for the balance of blood, is S Greece. the only efficient mode of making peace in these cases. When one of a family is slain, the person who takes upon him to revenge the injury, often vows not to change his clothes, or shave, or eat meat, till his revenge is satisfied. Next to the captains, the priests are the chief men in the Maniate wars, 1)0th in council and in field; and in the quarrels which so fre- quently occur between separate villages or families, they are generally the pro- mnters and leaders of the strife. To pull down the adversarys house is generally the object and end of the ~var. The suf- ferer is then conquered and seldom yen- turos to prosecute hostilities. The houses mentioned in this pas- sage by Col. Leake, are chiefly square towers of stone several sto- ries high, often perched for greater security, upon an almost tnaccesst- ble crag, with a communication by means of ladders between the stories. In one of these towers upon Mount Taygetus, a woman worthy of living on the soil of ancient Sparta, stood a siege againsta numberof Turks: she kept them busy in front while she sent away her female servant and children behind. The Turks, when she ceased firing in consequence of spending her ammunition, withdrew, fearing that she would blow up her tower when they should enter it. It is ~vell known that the Ameri- can Board sent missionaries to this country to Christianize it; and they established themselves at Areopolis, under assurances df protection from Petrombey, the most influential of the Maniates. At the time of Mr. Perdicaris visit, in 1842, Mr. Ley- burn was here domiciliated in one of the square towers of the country; but left Mani not long afterwards in consequence of the law, which re- quired that the Greek catechism should be taught in all the schools of the kingdom. The operation of this law broke up all the Protestant schools, except one at Syra, and one at Athens taught by Mrs. Hill, which still continues to flourish., and num-~ bers about five hundred scholars. Until the Greek revolution, Mani had been governed for more than half a century by beys of native ex tractiona wise policy adopted by Hassan Pacha, the Turkish admiral, to secure some kind of government among these intractable people. The last of the beys, Petrombey, the head of the Mauromichalis family, was a principal actor in the revolution, and many of his kinsmen fought and died for liberty. He is reputed to be a man of gentle and mild char- acter compared with most of his family. When Capo dIstrias was President of Greece, Petrombey be- longed for a short time to his cabi- net. Soon, however, a misunder- standing arose between the parties, which resulted, first in Petrombeys retirement to Mani, and then in his imprisonment in the fortress of Na- poli de Romania. A brother and a. son of the bey took up his cause, and shot Capo d Istrias at the door of a church in Napoli, having stationed themselves in an alley for that pur- pose. They both lost their lives in consequence, the one on the spot and the other by verdict of a court, but the chief was in n~ way impli- cated in the affair. This event con- tributed to the establishment of a monarchy in Greece; ttnd old Mau- romichalis, once the head of a wild clan and under no ones control, now resides at Athens in a condition which is by no means affluent, with his descendants depending on the smiles of a sovereign, and himself looking for support to the bounty of the legislature. Mr. Perdicaris says that Mani is more influenced by the new state of things than any other part of Pelo- ponnesus. Hereditary feuds have disappeared, robbery has become rare, and the traveler in this country apprehends little or no danger. An incident, however, occurred last spring at Athens, which l)roved that the old lawlessness of the people has not entirely departed. A proposi- tion was made in the Greek chamber of deputies, that an annuity should be granted to Petrombey, to com- fort the declining years of one of the Greece. 9 most active and self-denying libera- tors of Greece. This was violently opposed by a deputy from Elis, on the ground that a family which had murdered Capo dIstriasand Capo dJstrias is much better thought of now than while he was alivede- served no assistance from the nation. The next day, two peasants from Mani met the deputy in the streets of Athens, and gave him a sound cudgelling for speaking disrespect- fully of their compatriot. It might be supposed that a nation composed of such materials as the Maniates, of men accustomed to blood and robbery, with an exagger- ated feeling of independence as to all restraint, would not be very easi- ly reduced to order and obedience. All the vices acquired through cen- turies of slavery, were so many causes incapacitating them for the use of true freedom; and the good qualities themselves, which resis- tance to oppression had fostered, were such as to l)romote suspicion of every kind of control. It is an interesting enquiry, whether any progress has been made by the Greeks within the few years of regular government, and what, as far as the future can be divined, is likely to be their destiny. And first, let us look at Greece as it regards union, permanence and order. The nation contains four principal elements of nationality and union within itselfcommunity of language and religion, hatred of the Turks, and recollections of ancient Greece. All these causes conspir- ed in the revolution, when the same old scene, acted over again, which Herodotus commemorates, of Eu- rope and Asia arrayed against one another, awoke the same feelings which were felt at Salamis and Plata~a. Liberty being gained, at length, by the help of the great powers, they had a sort of claim to interfere, as they no doubt would have done without a claim. When the government of Capo dIstrias VOL. V 2 was ended by his assassination, they introduced with some show of.rea- son a monarchical form, but pro- vided no constitutional security for the liberties of the nation. Forth- with shoals of Bavarians filled every office ; a Bavarian police and sol- diery were set to keep order in every district, and every thing wore the look of a conquered country. The Greeks meanwhile, like their fathers, and with the same ease, had broken up into parties and factions; but the burden of these foreign lords became too great, and a new union was efli~cted. The English, French and Russian parties shook hands; those who wanted office and bread made a league with a better sort of patriots; the whole nation breathed one spirit, and a bloodless revolu- tion, in 1S43, procured a constitu- tion for the country and sent the Bavarian locusts to their homes. Even the university, where the Ger- mans were ill spared, has become at length nearly rid of them. This united eflbrt, crowned with such success, and unchecked in its re- suIts by the powers who have made themselves guardians of Greece dur- ing its minority, promises well for the future. A nation, whose prin- cipal men are learning every year better to discharge the duty of law- makers under a cpnstitution, can not but be making some progress in the art of self-government. rjhe hum- blest of the people are also learning the same art. Scarcely any limita- tions are l)laced upon the right of suffrage; and it may be said that the whole male population, over the age of twenty-five, exercise it, not only in the election of the officers of communes (~i~uo~), as they did un- der the Turks, but also in choosing deputies to the legislature. The people, as might be expected from their past inclination to feuds, and from their passionate temperament, easily run into the violences of party. In fact, when we consider the strug- gle for political rights, together with 10 Greece. [Jan. the fewness of the objects which in their stage of education and refine- ment can interest them, it will not be strange that their feelings for some time to come should be con- centrated upon politics. Neither these party feelings, however, nor the local separation of the parts of the country, which had such an ef- fect in breaking up ancient Greece into small communities, can inter- fere with their union or the perma- nence of the government, if it con- tinue for some years strong enough to preserve order and afford pro- tection to person and property. The permanence of the Greek kingdom would probably have been more certain if a larger territory had been assigned to it. As the boun- dary is now constituted, a line from the Gulf of Arta to that of Volo is the border towards Turkey; and thus nearly the whole of Thessaly proper, and that part of Epirus where the Suliotes reside who con- tributed much to the liberation of the Greeks, is given up to the Ma- hometan power. The same power still possesses Crete and most of the important islands in the iEgean. The boundary towards Turkey is to some extent an arbitrary one, and separates people of the same blood and faith. They will inevitably seek to extend the lii~its of the Greek kingdom, if that kingdom,~ever flou- rishes; and thus a collision may arise with Turkey, and even with the European powers. We believe that every true Greek dreams of ex- tending the supremacy of his race as far as to Constantinople, and over all the islands which speak the same language. But even if only Thessaly and the islands had belonged to king Othos portion, it would have greatly increased the resources, power and numbers of the nation, enabled them the better to bear the burdens of maintaining a government, and made them more likely to keep together. The establishment of a monarchy must be regarded as an experiment in Greecean experiment which those political chemists, the great powers, are determined to try until it succeeds. The nation has no predilection for this form ; on the contrary, we have no doubt that the force which ancient Greece exerts over the minds of educated men leads them greatly to prefer a repub- lican constitution. They can not be expected to have a great attachment to the present king; nor any strong motive to desire his continuance in office. He is thought by many not to be a great admirer of the present constitution, or anxious that it may work better than that which it su- perseded. Should he misbehave himself, it would be, indeed, not very strange if the people should put him on board of an Austrian steam- boat some morning, and send him back to Germany. And in this lies one of the worst omens for the per- manence of the kingdom of Greece. When the Turks were driven out, there was no form of government which was more fit to be adopted than any other. It is certain, from the violence of parties, that no na- tive Greek would be endured as king or president. Of fanariot Greeks, or natives of Constantinople, they have still greater jealousy. A chief magistrate of foreign extraction they may endure, but they can, not at once love. It is manifest, then, that all that strength which a monarchy derives from the personal and he- reditary attachment of the subject, the spirit of fidelity and allegiance, is wanting to the present dynasty in Greece, and can not be acquired without the greatest prudence. As for order and security, a wise government could find it no difficult task even to tame the wildest klefts of the mountains, for surely the peasantry, as a body, is interested in putting down all violences which endanger life or property. The great point is to provide employ- ment, as far as possible, for desti- tute persons, to spread education, to 1847.] Greece. 11 bring dark valleys and mountain sides into acquaintance with the light of civilization. During the Turkish sway, it was the most nat- ural thing in the world to resort to robbery for a living. Many a brave man, exasperated by oppression and finding no avenue for the honest ex. ercise of his powers, took to the highway, as anunsuccessful lawyer takes to politics, without losing the esteem of his clan or neighborhood. In his profession, he would adminis- ter a sort of rude justice, not despoil- ing the poor of their all, but rather taking some of the superfluities of those who ought to afford a support to Turk-haters and patriots. Some- thing of the spirit of robbery con- tinues.* During the last winter in particular, the crimes of violence were unusually numerous, although by no means as much so as was re- presented in the English papers. The present administration is charg- ed with pursuing a system of par- doning robbers, and even of employ- ing them in the police, which must lead to a feeling of great insecurity. The friends of the administration, on the other hand, charge the opposi- tion with getting up the robberies for political effect; and they make the incredible assertion that it has been one engine of party to produce a feeling of danger and insecurity, which shall make the government unpopular. The following circum- stance occurred, we believe, at Athens, less than a year ago. A robber being desirous of changing his vocation for an office under gov- ernment, obtained the recommenda- tion of a person high in authority, to the effect that when he, the offi- cial person, was chief of a band of robbers, the applicant had served under him, and gained his approba- tion by his good conduct. To the enquiry, what has the gov- ernment done for the material pros- perity and improvement of the coun- try, no very satisfactory answer can be given. We believe that the sys- tem of policy pursued, even since the constitution has been introduced, is not such as to offer cheering pros- pects for the future. The plan has been, if we understand it, to make as much out of the cultivators of the soil as possible ; and the result is, that instead of Greeks from the Turkish dominion crossing the line in great numbers to settle in a free country, as was expected, these Greeks are more content than here- tofore to remain under the yoke of a government which has new motives to treat them kindly, and is not ne- cessitated to lay heavy burdens on them for its own support. The land in Greece, available for cultivation, amounts to somewhat more than five millions of acres, of which nearly two-thirds were uncul- tivated, according tooflicial accounts published in 184~2. Of the cultiva- ted lands, about two-thirds, and of the uncultivated, about ten-thir- teenths, belong to the government. It will be manifest from this account that the govern meat is the great landed proprietora state of things occasioned chiefly, we believe, by the expulsion of Turkish proprietors from the country. It would seem to have been the part of true wisdom to divide out the land to all of the nation who would undertake to cul- tivate it; and it might be regarded as equitable, also, that the poor peo- ple who had been groaning under the Turks and had conquered back their own soil, should be compen- sated for their sufferings and ser- vices. Some sections which lay in the path of war had been almost depopulated ; and to invite settlers thither by bounties of land, would seem a policy likely to build up again the old ruins, and to raise the price of such lands in those districts as the government should choose to re Under the Bavarian sway, the mae- sures~ of the government at one time very much promoted highway robbery, by dis- banding the soldiers of the revolution. 12 Greece. [Jan. tam in its own hands. But the gov- ernment, if we are under a correct impression, have stuck to the lands as a fund for its own support, and rent them for two-tenths of thc produce a greater rent than was formerly paid to the Turkish landlords. This selfish policy of a government cre- ated only for the purpose of laying the foundations of prosperity in Greece, may tend to give it power and influence through the country by a control over its tenants; but it must have an unhappy effect on the growth of true independence, of in- dustry and enterprise. What sur- prises the traveler more than any thing else, is the general aspect of desolation and misery in some of the finest parts of Greece. We could cite a great number of passages from the work of Mr. Perdicaris in which he speaks of this desolation, and of the depressed condition of the peo- ple. Of the inhabitants of the dis- trict near Therniopyh~, he says: The condition of these people does not seem to have undergone any change. They were the vassals of the Turks; they are now the tenants of the government. They are sub- ject to almost all the oppressions which they suffered under their old masters the Turks. The only thing that could raise them in the scale of civilization, is the law which will make the peasants of Greece the proprietors of the land they culti- vate. The fertile plain of Phthia, in South Thessaly, Mr. P. speaks of with admiration on account of its natural resources; yet the whole, says he, of this beautiful region seemed to be neglected and desert- ed. Two-thirds of its population have perished in the course of the last war, and most of its sixty vil- lages are marked by the ruins of the poor mans home. The same is true of Bcx~otia. That fertile plain wears the look of almost entire deso- lation. You may ride for miles on the road from Athens to Thebes, and from Thebes to Plat~ea, and see no- thing hut wild irises and asphodels, with a little short grass. In tolia, while the fine lands in the plains are wasting away for want of hands, the people on the mountains are liv- ing like beasts for want of occupa- tion. The misery, in one particu- lar, has been heightened since the expulsion of the Turks. Then land- lords could attend to the drainage of their old lands, and supply capital for other agricultural purposes; but the government which has stepped into their place, being burdened with debt, neither can nor will attend to these essential wants of the soil. Hence Elis, one of the richest soils in Greece, threatens to turn into a. swamp; so that the tenants, as Mr. Perdicaris informs us, poor as they are, offered to keep the drains open at their own expense. The valley of Messenia seems to be exposed in a similar way to the ravages of win- ter floods; and anumber of streams in different parts of Greece are ruin- ing the lands around them for want of barriers. If the government had not, dur- ing the Bavarian harvest, run into debts which perhaps it will never repay, it might have means to open and improve the communications between the different parts of the country. At present, the only roads in Greece, except those around Athens, are one from Napoli, ex- tending up towards the ruins of Mycen~e, and the great road from Athens to the north, which was pro. jected to reach to Livadia, but at present terminates at Thebes. This last road was constructed by com- petent engineers, and is deserving of praise for the scientific skill with which it is made to cross the passes of Mount Citha~ron; but it is with- out parapets on the slopes of the mountain, and in the plain of Bmotia already shows signs of dilapidation. And in truth, carriage roads are as yet of little us~ in Greece as ways of transportation, because carriages are rare, the difficulties arising from 1847] Greece. 13 the mountainous nature of the coun- try are great, and seaports are near enough for the commercial purposes of most inland villages with their present means of conveyance. But certainly roads for the horseman, better than the present, some of which are in the most horrible con- dition imaginable, would have a great effect in civilizing and uniting the country. To a hasty traveler in Greece every thing wears the look not only of desolation, but of a desolation likely to be permanent. There seem to be few natural resources in a country consisting chiefly of bar- ren mountains, and even less trade than the country carried on under the dominion of the Turks. The people are generally in the most squalid poverty. Persons of any capital are rare in the kingdom, ex- cept at Athens, Vostitza, Patras, and one or two other places. Nor has there been, hitherto, confidence enough in the permanence of the institutions to invite much capital from abroad: the few proprietors who have purchased lands have been more or less disappointed. This is a gloomy picture; but on the other handnot to mention the facilities for commerce which so extensive a sea-coast affordsthe country, al- though water often fails or is un- equally distributed, is by no means destitute of resources, as may be argued from the great population which it supported in ancient times. Large tracts of it are fit for the cul- tivation of the fig, olive and grape; of cotton and rice. Raw silk and the productions which we have men- tioned when speaking of Mani, will command a ready market. Oranges succeed in a few places, as on the island of Poros. The north coast of the Morea, together with the island of Zante, enjoys a monopoly of cur- rants or seedless grapes, which are said to lose their qualities and turn into common grapes on other soils. It is probable that grain enough might be raised for the supply of twice the number of inhabitants, if the fertile lands fit for its growth were brought under cultivation. At present, some engineers are said to be draining lake Copais, in Benotia, in order to redeem a large tract sub- ject to annual floods, which stagnate until late in the summer. But how- ever much the land may yield which is or may be made available, nothing can be done without capital to aid the cultivator, and without that stim- ulating influence of hope, which does not exist at present. We will now turn our attention for a few moments to the state of edu- cation and religion in Greece. Here we meet with both bright and dark features, and on the whole, shall be left by our speculations in some doubt as it regards the future condi- tion of the country. In point of edu- cation, the Greeks have made great improvements since the establish- ment of their freedom, and seem de- termined to have its blessings ex- tended through the nation. They seem, however, equally determined to have it in their own hands. The first schools were set up by the mis- sionaries amid the ruins of towns which the war had left desolate ; but as we have said before, have been all except two, discontinued in conse- quence of the enactment that the Greek catechism should be taught in them. Others,however,are carrying on the same good work; and if Mr. King can not set up a school of his own, he at least has the satisfaction of seeing one whom he has educated occupying the post of teacher to four or five hundred children. Educa- tion of a higher sort may be said to have emanated from the government of king Otho. The system perfect- ed by the labors of Prof. Braudis is substantially the German one of a university, consisting of four facul- ties, and gymnasia for a lower stage of education. The expenses ofedu- cation are extremely small, and the greater part of the students pay no 14 Greece. [Jan. fees. The instructors are very com- petent men, and have had the ad- vantages of studying in France or Germany. The university has a respectable library of twenty five thousand volumes. There are about one thousand two hundred young persons at Athens either in the uni- versity or the gymnasia. In the university, the faculties are well at- tended, except the theological, which numbers, we are informed, only seven students. We ought not to omit mentioning here the praiseworthy zeal with which, at great cost, private persons have founded seminaries of educa- tion in Greece. One of this de- scription was set up by a learned scholar, Nicephorus Ducas, in the island of iEgina, but the removal of the government to Athens has not allowed its benevolent projector to realize much fruit from his labors. Another was a large orphan school, founded in the island of Andros by the exertions of a public spirited in- dividual, of whom we shall again have occasion to speak. There is likewise a theological school near Athens, for the foundation of which a wealthy Greek gave 700,000 drachmreabout 117,000 dollars. The sums of money given by three brothers of the name of Zosimades and others for the publishing of use- ful books, and for educational pur- poses, will well compare with the most liberal acts of such men as Bartlett, Williston and Brown in our own country. The very interesting enquiry will now arise in the minds of our read. ers, what can this mass of educated young men do with their learning, and what will be their influence on the religious state of their country. In regard to o~)enings for men of talent and education, we can not say much that is encouraging. In a country so poor and so little able at present to reward talent, they seem really to be in an unenviable situa- tion. In regard to the moral and religious principles of the educated young men, we must give a still less flattering account. It is the opinion of those who know best, that the national mind is just in the condition for the principles of French infidel- ity to have a rapid growth, and that they are influencing the opinions of many. The young man now grow- ing up in Greece, imbibes, with the new draughts of liberty, a freedom from prejudice, and a want of rever- ence for the past; he grows disgus- ted with the mummeries of his own church, and sees no alternative but superstition or skepticism. French literature is in vogue, owing to the numbers who have been educated in France, as well as to the political and social influence of the French in the Levant, and especially at Athens, where the French party now commands the government. We anticipate, therefore, a pretty exten- sive spread of infidelity through the upper classes of the nationand of a kind of infidelity which, while it allows the existence of furious pas- sions on the one hand, on the other checks all earnestness and depth of character. The influence of the Greek church upon the common people has always been great, although part of that in- fluence was perhaps owing to the presence of a hated religion which is now expelled. The influence, how- ever, has been exercised in the way of rigid fastings, and other formali- ties, and not in that of inculcation of doctrine. There is almost no preaching and no preacher in the church of Greece; and as far as the traveler can judge, there is less of intelligent religiousness than in the countries where the Pope is ac- knowledged. The churches, owing to the past condition of the country, are small and mean in the extreme. The Sabbath is less honored at Ath- ens than even in Paris. It results from this that the people are bigoted and capable of being roused into fanatical excitements, as 1847.] Greece. 15 is the case wherever formality reigns supreme in nominally Christian coun- tries. The educated classes are prob- ably afraid to oppose the priests and the multitude, and are also inclined to encourage the Greek church as the principal bond of nationality, as not only uniting the subjects of Otho to- gether, but also bringing into the same union all who speak the~Greek tongue. And it is on this commu- nity of faith that the Russian party in the kingdom relies. The gov- ernment also, can not be calculated upon to protect the rights of those who are exposed to fanatical perse- cutions, as it has enough to do to secure its own existence. The inefficiency of the govern- ment and the fanaticism of the peo- ple, were exhibited in the case men- tioned by Mr. Perdicaris,ofM. Caires, of the island of Andros, by whose patriotic exertions the large orphan school on that island was instituted. Being poor himself, M. Caires soli- cited donations from others for this object, and as his own countrymen were crippled in their resources by the revolution then recent, he trav- eled out of Greece to effect his ob- ject. What he obtained enabled him to build an edifice capable of holding one hundred boarders: the children of the rich as well as of that class for whom his seminary was designed flocked to him, and he had under his instruction several hundred pupils. By and by he fell under just suspicions, as Mr. Perdi- cans informs us, of apostasy from the Greek worship and of proselyt- ism; we know not where his opin- ions led him, whether to the Roman Catholic church, or in some other direction; but he was unable to withstand the rage aroused against him. The courts were afraid to afford him protection, and he was obliged to wander into exile from the country, to whose youth he had been such a benefactor. We re- member to have heard of another individual also on one of the islands, a priest of great worth and charac- ter, whose usefulness was destroyed by the same suspicion of heresy. The case of our excellent mission- ary, Mr. King, however, is the best exhibition of the fanatical spirit of the people, and of the awe which the power of the priests and of the mob exercises over the decisions of judicial tribunals. As this case has aroused the strongest sympathy in this country; as the origin of the persecution of Mr. King is not gen- erally known in its details, and as it may easily happen that accounts from some enemy of missions in the east may put a false face upon the affair, we feel that our readers will justify us in giving a somewhat de- tailed narrative of it from the be- ginning. In the autumn of 1844, Mr. King, being at Smyrna, was informed by an English resident there, of his in- tention to marry a Greek wife. Mr. King then asked the gentleman, if he was aware that by the canons of the Greek church a marriage with a heretic was invalid, and advised him to come to an understanding with the lady upon this point, before the nuptials should be solemnized. Some correspondence was then held between the parties, the result of which was that the lady gave her betrothed a written promise, that she would make use of no such canon of the church, invalidating marriage with a heretic, to his disadvantage. It is alledged also by the friends of the lady, that she required on her part a promise that no efforts should be used to proselyte her to the Eng- lishmans faith; and that having given the assurance of a written pledge to this effect he failed to fulfil it. This fact is not material, nor indeed is it of importance, to acquit this gentleman of blame in the sub- sequent trar)sactions. These transactions were of the most painful description. The mar- riage was celebrated, and the com- pany retired about eleven at night, 16 Greece. all except Mr. King, who staid, ac- cording to several affidavits of mem- bers of the family, five minutes lon- ger thaii the other guests, while a servant was lighting his lantern. On the next day he was sent for by this gentleman, and received the as- tonishi ng information of suspicions in regard to his wife, deeply affect- ing his honor and peace. It is im- material whether these suspicions were well or ill founded; they had seized possession of the mans rea- son, and were driving him mad. Mr. King, being called in as adviser in these very unpleasant circumstan- ces, did what he could to pacify the gentleman, and to restore peace to the household. But nothing then or afterwards was of any avail. The young lady, who was, as might be supposed, when the affair came out, the object of deep sympathy, after some days took refuge with her mother, and thus the ill-fated mar- riage came to a speedy end. We have necessarily given a color to the affair in the few last senten- ces, which is derived from Mr. Kings ex parte statement. Had Grrecia mendax not tried to im- prove the story to the young ladys advantage, all might have ended at this point. But the family was one of high respectability; the circum- stances of the case were in part noised abroad, and something must be done. It was not enough to say that trifles light as air, are to the jealous demonstrations strong as proofs from holy writ. It was not enough to expose the absurd and wilful caprice of a man blind with resentment, and exasperated perhaps even by the indignation of an inno- cent victim of his suspicions. The plot was more deeply laid than that, and it involved Mr. King as a mas- ter spirit. The ladys friends de- clared, that on the night of the mar- riage he staid behind the rest of the company, and was called into a room adjoining the marriage chamber, where he and the husband employ- ed entreaties and threats with the bride, to induce her to become a Protestant. She refused, and after- wards a vile fraud, worthy of Ingo, was practiced, implicating her hon- or, and at which Mr. King connived, in order that he might have a lever to work upon her sense of shame, and thus persuade her to change her religion. Our readers will hardly require of us to vindicate this worthy mis- sionary from a charge, which if proved, ought to send any man to a penitentiary. For a man to be guilty of it, who had never sought nor been gravely charged with seeking to proselyte, and was himself the hus- band of a Greek lady, still adhering to her own church, was certainly not very probable. Happily Mr. King could give an account of him- self from the moment the company at the wedding dispersed, and could support that account by sworn wit- nesses. The story, therefore, is shown to be false, and to that de- gree false, that no misunderstanding or forgetting of circumstances could excuse it; no process could separate the false part and leave a residuum of truth. There was in short, no truth about it. It was a clear de- signed falsehood, got up by some one of the ladys friends, to save her reputation. As this lie casts its baleful shadow on all the rest of their statements, we may pass tl)em over, and that the more readily, be- cause in no other instance was any thing wrong attributed to Mr. King, which might not easily be explained away. We will only add in vindication of Mr. Kings general reputation in the transaction, the words of the Rev. Win. B. Lewis, a clergyman of the church of England, resident at Smyrna, who performed the mar- riage ceremony, and seems not to have an unfavorable view of the ladys character. He had been call- ed on by her to publish a statement ~f the matter as far as he was con- 1847.] Greece. 17 cerned, and used language which might be interpreted as reflecting upon Mr. King. On being asked by the latter what his meaning was, he says, I assure you I never thought of you when I used these words. I have known you, my dear Mr. King, for a long time, and al- ways looked on you as a man up- right, conscientious and pious, and a pious minister of Christ. The Greeks, therefore, or whoever else could conjecture from one line, that in writing those words I meant you, were much mistaken. It is perfectly true, that then [in an interview, Sept. 14,] in my presence you recom- mended to Mr. L. with great warmth, to overlook what had happened, whether imaginary or true, and add- edsomething like this, that if it were true as he thought, still he ought to forgive his wife, and live with her. I never had any reason to think that you ever advised Mr. L. to use any means to force his wife to join his church, or become a Protestant. It is pleasant in these days, when missionaries find their worst foes among their own countrymen, to produce such a letter from an Eng- lish clergyman, evincing kind feel- ings on his part, united with a de- sire to do justice to all the parties implicated in the affair. The rumors spread abroad to the prejudice of Mr. King, were exciting the public mind against him before his departure from Smyrna. Not long after his return to Athens, an attack was commenced upon him in two of the public journals of that city; in which attack the principal persons engaged, besides two priests, were an uncle and a cousin of the Smyrniote ladythe former we be- lieve a judge of the Areopagus, and afterwards concerned in deciding against his appeal, and the latter the editor of one of the above mentioned journals. Mr. Kings replies were at first in general terms, being die- tated by the desire to say as little as possible of the unpleasant affair at VOL. V. 3 Smyrna; and when it became ne- cessary to establish his own charac- ter, he contented himself with pro- ducing certificates, such as we have already referred to, by which he could be cleared of blame, with the least possible injury to any one else. The spirit of his adversaries may be judged of~, by one or two exan)ples. rhe uncle of the lady after saying, I will show the Greek public that it endures a venomous snake in its bosom, produces a letter signed by certain Greeks of Smyrna, and written by an ecclesiastic, certifying what? Why, that they had heard with their own ears, that Mr. Kine had striven to make Mrs. L. turn Protestant, and that this was gener- ally believed in Smyrna. The ed- itor of the Hope publishes a let~ ter from a number of Smyrniotes, in ~vhich they speak as follows: The hatred which we inhabitants of Smyrna have towards this man is so great that the very name Jonas King, when uttered, brings a violent circulation into our blood, and rouses us to defend our fathers faith, which he has attacked, and which is so closely connected with our national- ity. In one word, our city regards him as a disturber of the people, and our neighbors of Greece will not surely be slow to look on him as a serpent which tries to bite those who warm Such appeals could not fail to bring popular odium to bear against the most innocent of men. But the priests were still more successful in their measures. In the attempt charged upon Mr. King, to proselyte the Greek lady, he had spoken, as they alledged, not blasphemous words against this holy place and the law, but blasphemies against the Virgin Mary, most dreadful * In the number of the Missionary Her- ald, for November, 1846, may be found specimens of fanaLical rancor vented against Mr. King, far surpassing this. They show a state of feeling ri~ie for any bloody deed. 18 Greece. [Jan insults against the very holy mother of God. He had refused her reli- gious worship, and called her mother of Christ. The accusations were afterwards extended 50 as to em- brace the doctrines of invocation of the saints and transubstantiation. He met these criminations princi- pally by citations from Epiphanius, Basil the Great, Chrysostom and oth- ers, saying that the passages quoted from these orthodox fathers express- ed his own opinions. In proof that he used cautious language, and agreed as far with his foes as his conscience would allow, we adduce one or two passages~ I believe, says he, all the articles of the creed composed by the first ~cume- nical council in Nice, and finished by the second council of Constanti- nople. Of Mary and the saints he says, far be it from tne to revile not only Mary who was highly fa- vored and blessed among women, whose soul magnified the Lord, and her spirit rejoiced in God her Savior, who after the resurrection of Christ, continued in prayer and supplication with the other saints; far be it, I say, from me to revile not merely her, but any other saint, or the least believing servant of the Lord and Savior and my God Jesus Christ. I merely say with Epiphanius, that we ought not to honor the saints beyond their dues, but to honor their Lord. As far as the journals were con- cerned, the controversy ended with the letter of Mr. King, which con- tained the testimony in his behalf from Smyrna, and which indeed would naturally put the finishing stroke to the obloquies against him. Perhaps the whole affair ~vould have gone no farther, if he had not pub- lished in a little book the articles on both sides, and appended some ex- tracts from the fathers, with obser- vations of his own. It was a dread- ful degree of boldness, that a heretic should quote the fathers as favoring his sentiments, and prove that his antagonists had garbled them, or appealed to spurious works. It was worse than for an illegitimate scion of a royal house to take rank in public ~vith the legitimate branches, or to boast that he had any of the family blood in his veins. Whea the book came from the press, Mr. King instantly sent it to many of the principal men of Greece; and it was well that he did this at once, for the police, entering his house, seized upon whatever copies they could find, leaving only about thirty copies of those that remained undistributed. This measure of the police was fol- lowed by a decree of the Sacred Syn- od,putting the work under the ban, as containing heterodox opinions; and the decree was the signal for the courts to move in the affair. The first court before ~vhich it was brought, found cause for accusatioa against Mr. King, on account of vio- lating certain laws, of which we will soon speak more at large; and sent him up to be tried before the court of the Ephetre. These judges con- firmed the view taken by the previ- ous tribunal, but an appeal was made from their decision to the highest tribunal, the court of Areopagus. We have before us the arguments of Mr~ Kings lawyers upon the ap- peal, the appeal itself, and the sen- tence of the court, in a pamphlet published at Athens, in May last. On reading the arguments, and the laws upon the interpretation of which the whole question turns, we can not but think the affair one of the plain- est in the world. No court could have decided that a case like Mr. Kings was contemplated in the law, without being under the sway of fear or hatred, or some other de~ grading passion. It would give us pleasure to fol- low M. Calligas, one of the advo- cates in this cause, through his sketch of the provisions in favor of toleration contained in the successive constitutions of liberated Greece. But our limits will compel us to pass this over, and to go directly to the 1847.] Greece. 19 law by which the courts supported themselves in their decision against Mr. King. One article of this law subjects a person to punishment, who, by contemptuous mockeries or symbolical representations, or hostile expressions, attacks the opin- ions, ordinances and usages of the eastern church ; and the next arti- cle of the same law declares that he commits an offence, who attacks the worship due to the creator of all things, or expresses opinions, prin- ciples and thoughts, opposed in kind (~br~~4vIvovra J4 sset) to the founda- tions of religion, (SI; iCe; ~ue& ; ~ij; ja~re(ag.) The decree of the first court, ap- proved by the second and confirmed on appeal, was in part as follows. The court finds that there is ground of accusation against Jonas King . . . and sends him to the Ephetre to be triedbecause by means of the contents of a book written by him, wherein, (1) he as- serts that the mother of God, Mary, ought not to be named (9eor6xo;, i. e., parent of God, but mother of Christ; (2) rejects and condemns the hon- orary worship bestowed on the saints and the holy pictures; (3) rejects and condemns the article of fiPth of the orthodox eastern church respect- ing transubstantiation; he hath ex- pressed principles and opinions op- l)osed to the foundations of the east- ern orthodox worship prevailing in Greece and injurious thereto. On this decree we may observe in the first place, that it violated the toleration which the existing constitu- tion sanctioned, by arguing the belief of Mr. King from his sileiThe. Lie had never denied in print that Mary ought to be called the mother of God, but had only said that he called her mother of Christ, in which all agreed. And so also he had never denied that worship ought to be paid to the saints, or that the doctrine of transubstantiation was true. He had said in passages quoted from certain Fathers something which all assented to, but which fell short of those doctrines. To use the Ian- gua ge of his counsel, it was the same as saying, we know, Mr. King, that you are heterodox because you do not profess our dogma. That is enough for us. For, should you publish the sacred scriptures them- selves, you will be liable to be pun- ished, because though you express nothing, your opinions are different from ours. But aside from this, the interpreta- tion of the law seems to be obviously and monstrously false. The law conteml)lates two cases: that of vir- ulent or contemptuous attacks on the Greek church; and that of any pro- ceeding opposed to the worship due to the Creator, or tending to overthrow the foundations of religion in gener- al. But the law does not oppose, but by implication rather favors and l)rotects fair and serious discussion relating to the dogmas of the Greek church, and much more the decla- ration in print of what a man be- lieves. The interpretation of the law in the courts, howevdr, jumbles the two articles together, and makes something out of them suited to the PU~l)O5C of condemning Mr. King. It requires us to read the law as pun- ishing him who expresses opinions not opposed, in kind to the foun- dations of religion, but opposed to the foundations of the eastern orthodox church. And when this obvious tampering with the laws was pointed out on the appeal to the Areopagus, what do they say? They say that the article forbidding the expression of principles opposed in kind to re- ligion, is directed against opinions attacking the foundations of every religion, whether that of the Greek church or of the other tolerated sects. In other words, religion does not mean religion in general, to which irreligious, skeptical or atheistic dog- mas are opposed, but every and any mode of worship and faith tolerated in the kingdom of Greece. Does not this look like conscious perver 20 Unit arianism in New York. [Jan. sion of the law? And having thus decided upon the main point, they go on to say, and probably with rea- son, that, as an appeal can lie to their court only on account of some wrong interpretation or application of a law, or had composition of the inferior tribunal, or failure to insert in the decree the law relating to the case, it is not their province to en- quire whether Mr. King had only quoted passages from the fathers, or had expressed his opinions in his own words. The sequel of this decision has been made known through the pa- pers. Mr. King was now to be tried on a point of fiict, and the verdict might acquit him or throw him into imprisonment. He was sent for trial to the court at Syra, but such was the fanatical hatred of the populace there, that it was not safe for him even to land. For the preservation of his life, he was reconveyed to Athens, and still remains there with many enemies breathing out threat~ ening and,slaughter against him. It would not be very strange if he should lose his life by the dagger of some devout assassin. We question whether the government will go out of its way to protect him, unless the English ambassador should inter- pose his powerful aid: we question even whether it will dare incur odi- um from the priests and the mob, if it can escape responsibility. This affair reveals to us the great. est danger which constitutional free- dorn in Greece will have to encoun- ter. If the vices contracted during the ages of Turkish oppression ~vere the only evil of the country, one generation would greatly change the state of things. But what in the ordinary operation of causes is likely to cure blind fanaticism, that enemy of freedom, except the spread of that other enemy, infidelity. The classes which unite ii~ pcrsecuting Mr. King, can not act out their views without hastening the supremacy of opinions, which will trample them and their faith in the dust. T. D. W. UNITARIANISM IN NEW YORK.* THE title of this arhele may, per. haps, convey to some of our readers the first intimation of the existence of the Unitarian denominationif by Dr. Putnams courtesy we may use that termbeyond the limits of New England. The numbers and the position of Unitarians in the mid- dle, southern and western States are far inferior, both relatively and ab- solutely, to what they hitherto have been in some of the eastern States, especially in Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine. There are at present one hundred and sixty-four Unitarian societies in Massachusetts, fourteen in New Hampshire, fifteen in Maine, six in Vermont, four in Connecticut, three in Rhode Island, and but forty out of New England, making a total of two hundred and forty-six organized societies,* some fifty of which are destitute of pas- tors, and several of which are in fact mere missionary stations. There are said to be some sixty more Uni- tarian churches in the United States, * The Unitarian Annual Register for 1847. [Where the four Unitarian church- es are in Connecticut, some of us, not having within our reach the document here referred to, can not tell. We can remem- ber two, as now existing, and we can re- member where another once was; but no more. Perhaps the fourth would say to us, in Miltonic phrase, Not to know us, argues yourselves unknown.Eds.] * An Address to Unitarians; by the Unitarian Association of the State of New York. 1846;

20 Unit arianism in New York. [Jan. sion of the law? And having thus decided upon the main point, they go on to say, and probably with rea- son, that, as an appeal can lie to their court only on account of some wrong interpretation or application of a law, or had composition of the inferior tribunal, or failure to insert in the decree the law relating to the case, it is not their province to en- quire whether Mr. King had only quoted passages from the fathers, or had expressed his opinions in his own words. The sequel of this decision has been made known through the pa- pers. Mr. King was now to be tried on a point of fiict, and the verdict might acquit him or throw him into imprisonment. He was sent for trial to the court at Syra, but such was the fanatical hatred of the populace there, that it was not safe for him even to land. For the preservation of his life, he was reconveyed to Athens, and still remains there with many enemies breathing out threat~ ening and,slaughter against him. It would not be very strange if he should lose his life by the dagger of some devout assassin. We question whether the government will go out of its way to protect him, unless the English ambassador should inter- pose his powerful aid: we question even whether it will dare incur odi- um from the priests and the mob, if it can escape responsibility. This affair reveals to us the great. est danger which constitutional free- dorn in Greece will have to encoun- ter. If the vices contracted during the ages of Turkish oppression ~vere the only evil of the country, one generation would greatly change the state of things. But what in the ordinary operation of causes is likely to cure blind fanaticism, that enemy of freedom, except the spread of that other enemy, infidelity. The classes which unite ii~ pcrsecuting Mr. King, can not act out their views without hastening the supremacy of opinions, which will trample them and their faith in the dust. T. D. W. UNITARIANISM IN NEW YORK.* THE title of this arhele may, per. haps, convey to some of our readers the first intimation of the existence of the Unitarian denominationif by Dr. Putnams courtesy we may use that termbeyond the limits of New England. The numbers and the position of Unitarians in the mid- dle, southern and western States are far inferior, both relatively and ab- solutely, to what they hitherto have been in some of the eastern States, especially in Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine. There are at present one hundred and sixty-four Unitarian societies in Massachusetts, fourteen in New Hampshire, fifteen in Maine, six in Vermont, four in Connecticut, three in Rhode Island, and but forty out of New England, making a total of two hundred and forty-six organized societies,* some fifty of which are destitute of pas- tors, and several of which are in fact mere missionary stations. There are said to be some sixty more Uni- tarian churches in the United States, * The Unitarian Annual Register for 1847. [Where the four Unitarian church- es are in Connecticut, some of us, not having within our reach the document here referred to, can not tell. We can remem- ber two, as now existing, and we can re- member where another once was; but no more. Perhaps the fourth would say to us, in Miltonic phrase, Not to know us, argues yourselves unknown.Eds.] * An Address to Unitarians; by the Unitarian Association of the State of New York. 1846; 1847.] Unit arianism in New York. 21 in an incipient or feeble state. In Pennsylvania, the Unitarian de- nomination has decreased from five societies to two or three, and one of these is in a declining state ; even the church in Philadelphia can boast of but little strength. A theological school has been established at Mend- ville, Penn., from which much aid is expected in the propagation of Unitarianism in the middle and western States. Though but a young institution, and still dependent upon the hand of charity, it already vies with the divinity school atCambridge in the number of studentshav- ing twenty-nine upon its catalogue, while the latter has but thirty-one. In the State of New Yoik, there are now twelve congregations of the Uni- tarian faith.* Three of these, includ- ing the societies at Albany and Troy, receive aid from the missionary fund of the American Unitarian Associa- tion. The denomination does not, therefore, present a very imposing appearance in point of wealth, num- bers or influence, out of New Eng- land. Two churches in the city of New York, one in Brooklyn, one in Philadelphia, one in Baltimore, with here and there oneperhaps a mere missionary stationat prominent points in the south or west, consti- tute the whole visible strength of Unitarianism south of Byram river and west of Lake Champlain. A volume of essays, upon the present condition of Unitarianism, edited by Rev. Dr. Beard, (not Baird,) the author of various articles in Kittos Encyclopedia, has recently been published in England,f which con- * The American Almanac gives the number of Unitai i in churches, i. e. houses of worship in New York at sixty-five; hut thk includeq of course, the churches of the (,hri~t ians 1nitanarii~m exhibited in its actual condition consisting of essays by several Unitarian rrnnisters and others, itlustra- tive of the ri~i progiess and principtes of Christian anti Trirutariauism in different arts f the wortd. Edited by the Rev. Beard, .R. D. D. bvo. We regret tains a glowing description of the prosperity of Unitarianism in this country, from the pen of Rev. F. A. Farley of Brooklyn. This repfe- sentation, however, so ill comports with recent facts, and with the lu- gubrious strain of the Christian Register, that we conclude that the narrative must have put on its seven- league boots in order to cross the Atlantic. The city of New York is bound to New England by so many ties, and is so closely connected espe- cially with Boston, that it would be strange if Unitarianism were not at least represented there. Still the soil of New York has proved to be far less congenial to this system than the soil of the Puritans them- selves. According to the address before us, Liberal Christianity, as it exists in New York, is not a product of that soil, but was pain- fully transplanted from the east, and has hitherto found its principal nourishment from the sources which originally sustained it upon its na- tive ground. The body of Unita- rians [in that city] has been, until lately, almost exclusively composed of New Englanders, who brought their faith with them.~* There has been no such rapid and visible ex- tension of Unitarianism in New York as was anticipated and pre- dicted by those who formally intro- duced die system there. After more than twenty years of laborious ef- fort, its friends have succeeded in organizing only three congregations in New York and Brooklyn. These congregations, indeed, are large and respectable, are ministered to by distinguished and eloquent preach- ers, and have exhibited much taste and liberality in the erection of their church edifices; but their strength is not derived from the native popu- that we have not a copy of the work at hand, but are obliged to speak of it from recollection. * Page 4. 22 Unitarianism in New York. lation; their growth has been chiefly by additions from New England; so that while Unitarianism may be said to have effected a permanent lodgment in the great commercial metropolis, it can not be truly said to have taken hold upon the cornmu- nity there. Unitarianism is not fashionable in New York; it does not, as in Boston, attract to itself the men of high pre- tensions to taste and cultivation, the men of wealth and fashion, the more elevated classes of society. In re- spect to these, it meets with a suc- cessful rival not only in the Pusey- ism of Trinity, but in the attrac- tive materiel of many Presbyterian churches, and in the sterling dignity of the Knickerbocker dynasty. in such circumstances, the claim of Unitarians that their views of Chris- tianity are peculiarly attractive to those in the higher walks of life, and peculiarly fitted to impart a pol- ished gracefulness to Christian char- acter, is likely to be fully tested. We concede to Unitarians as a class a high degree both of intellectual and moral culture: we recognize among them many of the brightest orna- ments of literature and of social life. Their general urbanity, cour- tesy and refinement are the appro- priate result of the cultivation of certain good natural traits of charac- ter as Christian virtues ; though the same result is often reached with f~r less cultivation where the heart is renewed and sanctified by divine grace. But we can not allow to Unitarians the monopoly of the out- ward graces of religion, notwith- standing the current tradition that a now distinguished Unitarian divine renounced the Orthodox faith pri- marily because its ministers had not attained to his standard of a gentle- man. Much less do we admit an exclusive fitness in their system to refine and elevate those who em- brace it. The fact that, in Boston, those who constitute, or think they constitute, the upper class of society, have an affinity for Unitarianism, does not demonstrate the peculiar loveliness of the Unitarian faith, any more than a similar affinity for Epis- copalianism, in certain quarters, establishes the divine right of bishops and the Prayer-book. A religion of taste and sentiment, of frigid moralism and elegant proprieties, or a venerated and in)posing ritual, will naturally attract to itself those with whom religion, like every thing else, is a matter of style, an ornamental branch of education, or a passport into good society. The prevailing style of Episcopalianism in Con- necticut has hitherto al most excluded Unitarianism from the State by using up all such material. In some points of mere esthetics, Unitarian- ism does, indeed, cornpnre advanta- geously with the old Orthodoxy of New England. But can it show us the severe simplicity, the massive nobleness of the old Puritan race? Could Carlyle make a hero out of such a system ? Could it have pro- duced his Cromwell; or have fur- nished the piety, the earnestness, any of the sterling virtue of such a character? Would it not, in any age, make a Puseyite rather than a Puritan; a man of graces (if not grimaces) rather than of qualities; of points rather than principles; of ornament rather than strength? We do not assent, then, to much that is said in praise of Unitarianism as a system of social refinement. At all evepts, its claims in this respect are likely, as we have said, to be thoroughly tested in New York. Trinity and Grace, at present, quite overshadow the churches of the Messiah and of the Divine Unity, although the architecture of the latter is far more to. our taste, for church purposes, than that of either of the former. Unitarianism must be content with a subordinate place in the sphere of fashionable religion, in the great metropolis. The Congregational element in the Unitarian denomination would work 1847.] Unit arianism in New York. 23 successfully in New York, if corn- blued with the needful evangelical element Unitarianism has never been a matter of controversy in New York, or to any extent out of New Eng- land. Although the sermon of Dr. Channing, at the ordination of Mr. Sparks in Baltimore, was the occa- sion of Prof. Stuarts letters, and of various other controversial pamph- lets, the seat of the controversy was chiefly in Massachusetts. The sys. tern has never had sufficient impor- tance in New York to excite formal opposition, or to call forth a public discussion of its merits. For the sake of Unitarians themselves, we should be glad to witness such a discussion in a comparatively new field, away from the embittered re- collections of the old Boston con- troversya discussion not so much of texts as of principles; not so much of the dogma of Christs divinity or of mans depravity, as of the great and solemn facts in mans relations to God as a moral being under moral law. We are confident that Unita- rians misapprehend, and if notl that they misrepresent theOrthodox view of this entire subject. We com- mend to them ihe careful study of the first principles of moral govern- ment. This they might pursue to advantage in Ne~v York, where they stand uncommitted by controversy, with no espril du corps to preserve, and with no immediate interest in the dissensions of their Boston neigh- bors. After what we have said of the comparative insignificance of the Unitarian denomination in New York, our readers may wonder that we have thought proper to notice it at all. But small as is the offshoot of Unitarian ism in the Empire State, it is not a whit behind the parent stock in the Bay State in lofty pre- tensions; it lifts up its head as if it had been rooted in the soil for a century. Of course Unitarianism appears in New York under the new cognomen of liberal Christianity ; and one would think, from the pa- tronizing air which it assumes, that the Knickerbockers had never be- fore known what it was to be either liberal or Christian. The address referred to at the head of this article, is an illustration of this remark. It is an official document, emanating from the collected wis- dom of the Unitarian Association of the State of New York, and may be taken as a fair exponent of their spirit and principles. It is hardly entitled to that grave treatment which we had proposed to give our subject; and it makes us smile in sl)ite of ourselves as we read it. It is the more worthy of notice because it lets out some secrets, in respect both to the principles and the work- ing of the system, which more ex- perienced leaders would have kept in the dark. rrhe address opens in a fine strain of declamation about the new form of Christianity which, after a struggle of more thati t~venty years, contending with prejudice and overwhelming num- bers on a ground long preoccupied by other and widely contrasted sects, has at length taken its place among the acknowledged an dpro- minent Christian denor~ inations of [the] metropolis. This peering of the new system above the sur- face is heralded as an important crisis. Now the birth of any creature or thing is doubtless a most important crisis to itself; but whether it is of any moment to the com- munity in which it is born, is quite another question. This new-born system, however, is to accomplish something in New York worthy of its name. It now first finds itself in a situation to look about it, and survey the field of labor. No longer an alien, but a naturalized citizen in [thatj Christian community, it is compelled to inquire into the duties of its new position, and to assume its part in the religious responsibflities of its adopted home. And since 24 Unitarianism in New York. [34111. it finds neither the arena of fashion nor that of intellectual conflict open- ing before it, it resolves to signalize itself by deeds of philanthropy. The poor are to hail its advent with un- precedented joy. The address informs us, that liberal Christianity, wherever it exists, manifests a peculiar watch- fulness over the great common in- terests of man, and especially the condition and clainis of the poor. We feel grateful for this informa- tion; but, as friends of human pro- gress, we should be more gratified to find the assertion corroborated by facts. We have looked abroad over the world, to see ~vhat Unitarianism is doing distinctively for the great common interests of man ; we have inquired for its missionary stations among the heathen or in our own land; we have searched for the com- munities which, when it has entered as a new element, it has remodeled, elevated, sanctified; we have look- ed for results like those produced by evangelical missions at the Sandwich Islands, in Southern Africa, in Burmah and Ceylon, or among the North American Indians; we have sought for such fruits of Unitarian- ism in New England itself, as are witnessed riot unfrequently when the moral renovation of an entire com- munity results from a revival of re- ligion under the preaching of evan- gelical truth; we have question- ed the Christian Examiner, the Christian Register, the Christian Inquirer, the reports of the Amer- ican Unitarian Association~~,* and other available sources of informa- tion, but as yet we have arrived at no facts which seem to warrant the strong assertion of the philanthropic and refining character of Unitarian- ism which is made in this address. The whole amount expended by the American Unitarian Association during the year ending May, 1& 16, in the publi- cation of tracis, in aid of feeble ohurct,es in support of agents and traveling mis- sionaries and of Meadville vrheotogical school, was but $14,835 33. We do not deny that Unitarianism is, in many respects, a useful sys- tern; for it exerts a good social and moral influence as far as it goes, which can not be said of every re- ligious system. We have found Unitarians engaged in many good and noble enterprises; we have found them practising the amenities of life in divers collations and public tea-parties, and making well-spiced speeches about war and slavery, Mexico and Texas; we have found some of them engaged in Sabbath- school labors, in temperance re- forms, in the distribution of the Bible, and in missions to the poor; we have heard, indeed, of their being so very zealous in these movements, mani- festing such a peculiar watchful- ness over them, that others could not possibly work in their company; and yet, after all, we have not found the broad statement of this address confirmed by facts. It is true that some Unitarians have done much for the gener~rl institutions of learn- ing and of charity, and so have some mere men of the world, ad- hering to no religious denomination. But what have Unitarians done in these respects, or in any respect, which should entitle them to the name of truly liberal, devoted, energetic Christians? What have they done in respect to the one great, comprehensive work of Christians the spreading of the gospel of Christ? Let the address answer: Having no waste for its zeal in foreign missionary enterprisesdo we read aright ? Having no waste for its zeal in foreign missionary en- terprises, in sectarian chivalry, or in endeavors to relieve an anxiety artificially created by unscri ptural opinions, which pronounce the whole human family under sentence of everlasting death, it finds a channel for its Christian earnestness in the more benignant and practical labors of philanthropy! !~~* ~ Page 7. 1847.] Unitarianism in New York. 25 Now, we can not conceive of one reason for which the poor around us need the gospel, which does not ap- ply also to the heathen abroad; nor can we see how those who reject with ridicule the last great commis- sion of Christ himself, can possess more of the spirit of Christ, and ex- hibit a more benignant and prac- tical philanthropy than any other sect. Do Unitarians, as a body, endorse such sentiments as we have just quoted? Or is the avowal of them an indication that the system has not yet passed through the sea- son of its verdancy in New York? But let us look at the thing in practice. The labors of Unitarians, instead of being wasted upon a world lying in wickedness, are to be con- centrated upon the city of New York, which, we infer, must be the strong hold of iniquity. We are told that the first great plan for melior- ating the condition of the poor~~ in New York, was conceived and start- ed by Unitarians. But (alas! for the peculiar watchfulness and the benignant philanthropy of lib- eral Christianity) it was defeated by the withdrawal of expected sympathy and support from good men of other religious opinions.* So, then, this Christianity which leaves the world to perish for the sake of the poor, which exists almost exclusively for their welfare, must leave them to perish also, unless more sectarian and excitable Christians shall overcome its rela- tive inertia, and help it to perform its benignant and practical labors of philanthropy with some show at least of Christian earnestness. This ministry to the poor so nobly conceived by these liberal Christians, was presently abandon- ed, because its results did not cor- respond to the efforts it demandedt But where is the patience and long- suffering kindness of these Chris- tians, if they can abandon so soon * Page 7. Vol. V. Page 8. 4 the work to which they feel that they are called? Have we not just been told, that liberal Christianity wher- ever it exists, manifests a peculiar watchfulness over the great common interests of man, and especially the condition and claims of the poor ? And yet it contemptuously neglects the heathen, and then forsakes the poor! We may here suggest another cause of the ill success of this mis- sion to the poor; it is, that Unitari- anism does not meet the real wants of the poor, nor propose the only efficient remedy for the evils of their condition. Christ, the poor mans philosopher, did not direct his teachings or his labors primarily to the amelioration of the outward con- dition of the poor; he felt that their greatest evil was the wickedness of their hearts; he preached the doc- trines of rel)entance and the new life; he exhorted them to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. Those missionary efforts which are based upon the conviction of mans entire guilt and helplessness, and of his personal need of Christ, are seldom unfruit- fiil among the poor, and are not lightly abandoned. Witness the la- bors of the New York City rrract Society, and of the Boston City Mis- sion. The last report of the Amer- ican Unitarian Association, quoting from a previous circular from the Executive Committee, acknowledg- es the well known fact, that the cause of missions has not been a fa- vorite one with [the Unitarian] de- nomination ; and after enumerating the most common-place arguments for the missionary work, it adds, these considerations are so obvi- ous, as almost to require apology for their statement; and yet, is not the present position of our denomina- tion, in respect to this matter, such as to authorize the supposition, that we denied their truth ?~7* If Uni * Report, p. 21. 26 Unit an anism in New York. [Jan. tarians would read attentively the first two chapters of the Epistle to the Romans, if they would adopt Pauls theory concerning the uni- versal sinfulness of mankind and the consequent indispensableness of the gospel to their recovery, if they would feel some of that anxiety which is created by the opinion that the whole human family is under sentence of everlasting death, they ~vould find a channel for Christian earnestness broad as the world and deep as the guilt and wo of dying millions, a chan- nel in which their zeal could never run tQ waste. Did not Mr. W. H. Channing speak the truth when he said that Unitarians had accomplish. ed so little real good through want of confidence in their own principles? But Unitarianism has reached an important crisis in New York; it feelsstrong and vigorous, and promises better things for the poor. The New York Association feels called upon to assume its part of the burden of the religious instruc- tion and moral salvation of that great community. We owe to this city, say they, some duties as a Christian body We must sup- pose that out of the 180,000 people in this city that never go to any church, there are boundless materi- als for missionary labor and suc- cessand are we not (along with other sects) responsible for our pro- portion of these souls? Nay, is there not reason to think that more than a due proportion of these in- differents, or infidels, for ~vhom other views of Christianity have failed to exert any attraction or influence, would yield to the ad- vances of our new and unencum- bered, our mild and philanthropic sentiments ? We have no doubt that quite a large proportion of both these class- es would embrace just such new and unencumbered religious sen- timents, if they should embrace any at all, for they are captivated by novelties and wish to be unencum- bered by any thing religious; hut whether more than a due propor- tion of them would yield to these influences, is a point about which other sects are not likely to con- tend. But the charm of novelty is lost in the next paragraph of the address; for these new sentiments are trans- formed into those of apostolic times. Liberal Christians, averse as they are to missionary enterprises, have a special mission against the prevailing errors in Christendom. The address concludes by stating this duty in these emphatic terms: A solemn and weighty obligation is seen to rest upon us to let in the light of our pure and primitive Christianity upon what seem to us the clouds and darkness that brood over the Christian community in which our lot is cast Silence or inactivity would be criminala sin against the Holy Spirit .What, then, brethren of the Unitarian faith and order, what shall we do ? Yes, what shall they do? Now for the practical labors of their philanthropy; now for the deep, broad channel of their Christian earnestness. How shall liberal Christianity discharge itself of its great responsibilities to the poor and ignorant thousands of New York? The plan is threefold: First. The employment and support of a permanent agent and missionary of Unitarian views~~ in the State of New York. Secondly. A daily paper in the city of New York, under the joint superintendence of a secular and a religious editor, for the dis- semination of Unitarian sentiments.* * A weekly newspaper has since been started by the Association, called The Christian Inquirer ; a recent number of which contains a very candid and cour- teous notice, or rather reviewfor it oc- cupies four columnsof our article in the October number, on the dilemma of Unitarianisrn. We trust that we have not forfeited the prai~e of the Inquirer 1847.] Unit an anism in New York. 27 Thirdly. To hire the hall over the entrance to the church of the Divine Unity, for the purposes of a reading-room and exchange, the head-quarters of the Unitarian cause in the city and State of New York. This room is to be furnished in the usual manner, and is to be opened to all who are seeking in- formation ia regard to liberal Chris- tianity, and especially to all young men coming to the city from Unita- for courtesy and sincerity, in our continued oversight of Unitarianism. He is our best friend, says W. H. Channing, who with justice to what is good in us, reproves our faults ; and upon this principle we hope to prove our friendship fur Unitarians by speaking the truth in love. We beg to inform the Inquirer that we were fully aware of the reception that [Dr. Putnams] dis- course met with at the hands of the Uni- tarian body ; and that our article was based upon the knowledge of that fact. We did not notice the strictures of the Christian Examiner upon the discourse, because they seemed not to deserve a sepa- rate examination; though they sufficiently betrayed the sense ofdanger - The Inquirer itself seems disposed to set Dr. Putnam and Mr. Parker aside as weak men, but we must be permitted to judge of them from their published discourses. The where- abouts of the Unitarian denomination is still as uncertain and perplexing as before. Who can tell, for instance where- abouts they stand in respect to a doc- trinal theology, or to the great cause of missions? Mr. Channing says, we need a theology, and as yet we have nothing that deserves the name of one; no! not even the fundamental principle or corner- stone. The American Unitarian Asso- ciation urges the vital importance of mis- sions; the New York Association declares that liberal Christians have no zeal to waste upon such matters. We thank the Inquirer, however,furits patient endeavors to instruct us in the what of Unitarian- ism. We shall lay by its confession of faith with that contained in the Annual Register, for future reference. This mul- tiplication of Unitarian creeds illustrates the position of our former article. nan parishes.~~~ It is to contain, also, a library of Unitarian theolo- gy; and occasional theological lec- tures are to be delivered there. Such is the new and wondrous plan for the religious instruction and moral salvation of New York. These pure and primitive Chris- tians are to outdo all other sects in the benignant and practical labors of philanthropy, by paying a small annual subscription toward the support of a room, where they and their friends can sit comfortably and read the newspapers and reviews! This is their part of the burden and responsibility of Christians in New York. This is the peculiar watch- fulness of liberal Christianity over the condition and claims of the poor. This is the development of that tremendous crisis,~~ toward which Unitarianism has been strug- gling for twenty years. Verily~ the liberal deviseth liberal things ! Have we not a right to smile at such absurdities? And yet we can not make sport of that which fills our souls with grief and pity. These men are honest; they wish to do good ; they imagine that they are liberal and philanthropic; but they do not see the wants of the poor in the light which the Christian revela- tion throws upon the character, the nature, and the destiny of man, and therefore the measures which they devise and pursue arewhat they are. Let them learn how Christ regarded the poor; how he felt and labored and prayed for them as guilty, lost sinners; and they will begin to say and to do something for the poor, something for the world, worthy of a liberal and free Christianity. ~r. r. * Pages 1517. 28 Responsibility in the Management of Societies. [Jan. RESPONSIBILITY IN THE MANAGEMENT OF SOCIETIES. OUR associated enterprises for the propagation of Christianity, at home and abroad, have become almost the greatest of the material and visible interests of the Christian common- wealth. So the world changes. When the London Missionary So- ciety and the Baptist Missionary So- ciety were formed, it was little im- agined, even by the most enthusias- tic, that in those movements there was the first indication, the first vis- ible stagewe will not say the cause or sourceof a new order of things, which in half a century would affect all Christendom, and which would act irresistibly on all the relations of churches to each other, on the de- velopment and culture of piety, on the administration of the gospel in the pulpit, and even on theological dogmas. But so it is. The Church Missionary Society in England is the manifestation and the organ of a movement in the Church of Eng- land, which Canterbury can not con4 trol, and against which Oxford, in her counter-movement, struggles with only a limited success. We are far from regretting this new order of things in the Christian republic. We have no sighs to breathe for the good old days, as some esteem them, when the spirit of aggression against the empire of darkness, slumbered in the church. There are dangers, no doubt, in an age of activity and of religious en- terprises. There is danger, espe- cially, that important truths may be forgotten or undervalued in the zeal and hurry of the movement. But in our view there is more danger on the wholemore danger even to theology, in an age of stagnation. The church awakened to an active sympathy with the design of the gospel, and entering earnestly into the work of the worlds conversion, is not more likely to fall into error, than the church inactive and guided by doctors who can only dogmatize and argue. We would have it un- derstood then that when we speak of the change which has come upon Christendom within the last half century, and which is still in pro- gressthe change which has made our great voluntary associations for propagating the gospel so important, we speak no regret that it is so. God grant that the churches may never go back to their old ways in respect to effort for the diffusion of the gospel around them, and its extension through the world. Not only is the magnitude to which some of our leading benev- olent societies have attained, far be- yond what could have been antici- pated by the most sagacious or the most sanguine when the system was originated; but the relations which they hold to churches and pastors by their agencies and publications, and the multiplicity of the interests which they indirectly but powerful- ly affect, are of such moment as to require constant vigilance against that tendency to perversion which is inseparable from all things human. A vague feeling of the importance of guarding against such perversion a half suppressed uneasiness about the power which is supposed to be accumulating in the hands of secre- taries and executive committees exists to an extent which makes some inquiry and discussion neces- sary. In the progress of new en- terprises and movements, it is a thing of course that new problems will present themselves for solution questions that must be settled in the light of new experience. The trust committed to the execu- tive department of a great benevo- lent society is a trust in many re- spects peculiar. Though in most cases it is chiefly in the hands of

28 Responsibility in the Management of Societies. [Jan. RESPONSIBILITY IN THE MANAGEMENT OF SOCIETIES. OUR associated enterprises for the propagation of Christianity, at home and abroad, have become almost the greatest of the material and visible interests of the Christian common- wealth. So the world changes. When the London Missionary So- ciety and the Baptist Missionary So- ciety were formed, it was little im- agined, even by the most enthusias- tic, that in those movements there was the first indication, the first vis- ible stagewe will not say the cause or sourceof a new order of things, which in half a century would affect all Christendom, and which would act irresistibly on all the relations of churches to each other, on the de- velopment and culture of piety, on the administration of the gospel in the pulpit, and even on theological dogmas. But so it is. The Church Missionary Society in England is the manifestation and the organ of a movement in the Church of Eng- land, which Canterbury can not con4 trol, and against which Oxford, in her counter-movement, struggles with only a limited success. We are far from regretting this new order of things in the Christian republic. We have no sighs to breathe for the good old days, as some esteem them, when the spirit of aggression against the empire of darkness, slumbered in the church. There are dangers, no doubt, in an age of activity and of religious en- terprises. There is danger, espe- cially, that important truths may be forgotten or undervalued in the zeal and hurry of the movement. But in our view there is more danger on the wholemore danger even to theology, in an age of stagnation. The church awakened to an active sympathy with the design of the gospel, and entering earnestly into the work of the worlds conversion, is not more likely to fall into error, than the church inactive and guided by doctors who can only dogmatize and argue. We would have it un- derstood then that when we speak of the change which has come upon Christendom within the last half century, and which is still in pro- gressthe change which has made our great voluntary associations for propagating the gospel so important, we speak no regret that it is so. God grant that the churches may never go back to their old ways in respect to effort for the diffusion of the gospel around them, and its extension through the world. Not only is the magnitude to which some of our leading benev- olent societies have attained, far be- yond what could have been antici- pated by the most sagacious or the most sanguine when the system was originated; but the relations which they hold to churches and pastors by their agencies and publications, and the multiplicity of the interests which they indirectly but powerful- ly affect, are of such moment as to require constant vigilance against that tendency to perversion which is inseparable from all things human. A vague feeling of the importance of guarding against such perversion a half suppressed uneasiness about the power which is supposed to be accumulating in the hands of secre- taries and executive committees exists to an extent which makes some inquiry and discussion neces- sary. In the progress of new en- terprises and movements, it is a thing of course that new problems will present themselves for solution questions that must be settled in the light of new experience. The trust committed to the execu- tive department of a great benevo- lent society is a trust in many re- spects peculiar. Though in most cases it is chiefly in the hands of 1847.] Responsibility in the Management of Societies. 29 ministers of the gospel, it is alto- gether distinct from the appropriate and higher work of the ministry. It is for the most part that service of tables from which the apostles, as ministers of the word of God, desired to be relieved. It requires therefore different gifts from those which are employed in the work of proclaim. ing and teaching the gospel. This we say not by any means in dis- paragement of the office, or as de. siring to detract from its dignity. On the contrary we hold that it re- quires, for the full discharge of its duties, not merely the ordinary ca- pacity and integrity of upright busi- ness men, but the highest degree of diligence, wisdom, disinterestedness and devotedness. The men who in the providence of God are called to exercise such~a ministry, not of the word but of tables, [~wxoda~ Rom. xii, 7,] in the Christian com- munity, and who in that service disburse with simplicity, rule with diligence, and perform their ministry of beneficence with cheer- fulness, are to be esteemed very highly in love for their works sake; not less than those who being called to serve the church in the way of preaching [ op/Trhx] perform that functions each in the proportion of his gifts, the teacher earnestly intent upon his teaching, and he who has the high faculty of persuasion and excitement employing that faculty to the utmost. The special work which Jeremiah Evarts was privileg- ed to do for the church, though it falls into entirely another category from the work of those who labor in word and doctrine, was not on that account necessarily inferior, either in dignity or in usefulness, to the work of the most learned teacher, or of the most eloquent and persuasive preacher, of the age to which he be- longed. Those who are now stand- ing in places analogous to that which he occupied in his day, are partakers of a trust which deeply concerns the purity and the freedom as well as the progress and outward advance- ment of the church. Their office is one which, considered merely as an office, and without reference to the personal endowments of those who happen to hold it, is an office of the highest moment in the religious world. There are men whom God sends into the world to be leaders in the highest sense; men who form and sway opinion, and who control the thoughts and aspirations of their fellow men. The influence of such men is personal rather than official. God gives them endowments by which they make themselves felt in almost any station. To such men, the mechanical advantages of offi. cial rank and position, so necessary to men whose endowments however great are of another order, are an encumbrance rather than a help. The stately warrior may need all his equipments, helmet and buckler, sword and spear; and not these only, but the marshaled host and all the art and pomp of war. But Gods anointed champion is mightiest in his own unarmed agility and strength; he needs no other weapon than his shepherds sling and the smooth pebble from the brook. If then it is easy to name men whose influence in the religious world is greater than that of those invested with official power in the greatest and most ex- tended of our voluntary associations, it is equally easy to perceive, the moment they are named, that their influence is personal and not official. It is with a view not of producing controversy but of forestalling it by timely and amicable discussion, that we have determined to utter, in all Christian freedom, a few thoughts on a question to which the foregoing considerations naturally conduct us. Our question is none other than this,Ought the executive depart- ment of a great voluntary society, for missions or for any similar en- terprise, to be really and formally responsible to anybody ?~if so, to whom, and how? What we have to 30 Responsibility in the Management of Societies. [Jan. say on this subject is not unconsider- ed; nor is it inconsiderately uttered. We have observed, within a few years past, that when questions arise in regard to the action or policy of this or that great society, discussion is apt to grow confused because an- other question underlying the whole debate, has not been duly and clearly adjusted. That other question is, Who are the society ?~-where is the control? Shall the officers in the executive department govern the whole movement, responsible only to God? Or shall they be under the government of some constituen- cy? And this is the question which we propose for consideration. For the sake of convenience, and that we may have to do with tangible instances, we will speak of two so- cieties in particular,the American Board of Foreign Missions, and the American Tract Society. We speak of these t~vo rather than of some others, because these are perhaps the most conspicuous of all our vol- untary societies; because they are entirely unlike in the form of their constitutions, and because by the very great diligence and skill with which their affairs have been con- ducted the Prudential Committee and secretaries of the one, and the Executive Committee and secre- taries of the other, have earned, and have obtained, to an indefinite ex- tent, the confidence of the religious public. Our question divides itself into two. First, Ought the executive administration of these and other like societies to be responsible to anybody? And the responsibility which we are inquiring about, is, on the one hand, not virtual only but formal, and on the other hand, not nominal only but real. As the groundwork of an answer to this branch of the question, let us recollect a few dry but comprehen- sive facts. The revenue passing through the treasury of the Amen- can Board of Foreign Missions dur ing the last financial year (ending July 31) was $264,807 93, includ- ing the interest of $73,098 40 of permanent funds, and not including the rent of $22,613 61 of the same funds vested in the house occupied by the Board for the transaction of its business at Boston. The re- venues of the American Tract So- ciety for the financial year ending April 15, 1846, were $153,916 16, including $82,784 00 for publica- tions sold, and excluding the rents of the very valuable property owned by the Society at the corner of Nas- sau and Spruce streets, New York. The question relates to the responsi- bility of those to whom all this money is entrusted, and under whose im- mediate direction it is collected and expended. But the office of those who expend this money by their votes of appropriation, would be en- tirely dishonored if it were consider- ed in no higher view than as a merely pecuniary trust. It is im- portant then to recollect for what uses these funds are appropriated, and to what extent the operations which they sustain affect the welfare of our country and of the world. The Prudential Committee of the American Board has under its con- trol, a mission in South Africa, one in West Africa, one in Greece, one in Turkey, one in Syria, one in Persia, five in British India, one in Siam, two in China, one in Borneo and one in the Sandwich Islands; besides nine planted among the In- dians of this continent from the Abenaquis of Canada to the new homes of the Cherokees and Choc- taws beyond the Mississippi, and from the remnants of the Six Nations in New York, to the intractable and nameless tribes of Oregon. At the ninety.three stations included in these twenty-six missions, there are employed one hundred and thirty- four ordained missionaries, ten of whom are also physicians; five phy- sicians not ordained; twenty-eight assistant missionaries, laboring as 1847] Responsibility in the Management of Societies. 31 schoolmasters or printers, or in other more secular works connected with the missions; and, including the wives of the missionaries, who are all considered as in the service of the Board and under the direction of the committee, one hundred and seventy-five female assistant mis- sionaries. All these are Ameri- cans; but these are not the only laborers in the missionary field. Twenty-five native preachers, in the various countries occupied by the missions,and one hundred and thirty- two other native helpers (not count- ing an indefinite number of native teachers of free schools) swell the aggregate of the laborers at the mis- sions, who are principally and di- rectly dependent on the Board for support, to four hundred and ninety- four. These statements, without re- peating the details of the number of churches and church members,the number of schools and seminaries and colleges with their pupils,The number of printing establishments, the presses and fonts of type, and the type and stereotype foundries, and the number of languages in which printing is executed at the various missionswill sufficiently refresh the readers recollections in regard to the extent of the foreign operations of the Board. At the same time, it should be rememl)ered that the domestic operations of the Board must needs be in some pro- portion to the extent of its operations abroad. During the last year, the expenses in the home department, including agencies for the collec- tion of funds,publ ications design- ed to diffuse missionary intelligence, and to guide the public mind,the support of three secretaries and a treasurer, all of whom devote their whole time to the business of the in- stitution,and a variety of miscel- laneous expenditures incidental to the workamounted to $25,798 84, without including the rent of the Missionary House at Boston. The Executive Committee of the American Tract Society expend a portion of their revenues in foreign countries; though as yet they have sent abroadno missionaries, col- porteurs, or other agents, from this country. Thus their report for the last year, shows appropriations to various evangelical missions in hea- then and Mohammedan countries, and to various kindred societies and committees in Europe, amounting in all to $15,000. I3ut to the Tract Society, the great field for its be- neficence and power is in our own country. According to the Report before us, one hundredandseventy. five men were in the service of the committee, as colporteurs, su- perintendents of colportage, and volume agents, for the whole or for various portions of the last year. Some of these men are ministers of the gospel; others are theological students or candidates for the minis- try ; others are laymen, represented as men of good sense, good infor- mation and active religious zeal. But though these men are called by the undignified name of colpor- Leurs, or pedlersa name redolent of apostolicity only to those who know not what it meansthe itiner- ant vending of books is by no means their exclusive or their highest func- tion. They might rather be called lay evangelists; for it is their busi- ness to preach not only conversa- tionally and from house to house, but in the way of continuous dis- course wherever they can gather an assembly. It appears from the treasurers report, that the expendi- tures in the colportage depart- ment, for the last year, including the compensation of one of the secre- taries and a clerk, and excluding the cost of books given away,arnount. ed to $31,043 50. The same re- port shows that the aggregate ex- penditure of the year for the manu- facture of books and other publica- tions, including what was paid to authors and translators and for re- vision, was $90,603 91. Another 32 Responsibility in tlze Management of Societies. comprehensive charge is for serv- ices and expenses of general agents, the amount of which is $5,709 45. These general agents, seven in num- ber, devote themselves, each in his own field, to the work of bringing the various objects, plans and oper- ations of the society before the churches and securing their cooper- ation ; in a word, their business is to collect money by preaching and personal solicitation. The extent of the Societys business is indicated by the fact that aside from all that is done in the department of colpor- tage, which, as we have already seen, gives full employment to one secretary assisted by a clerk, the charge for the services of two other corresponding secretaries, an as- sistant secretary and assistant trea- surer, a depositary, and seven clerks and assistants in the various offices of the Societys house in Nassau street, amounts to $7,884 61; and no man who knows those secretaries can doubt either that they are hard- working men, giving their strength to their business in a self-sacrific- ing spirit,or that the assistants and clerks that work under them, are obliged to earn their wages. 1-lere then we see a yearly rev- enue of $~264,00O controlled by one committee at Boston, and a yearly revenue of $154,000 controlled by another committee at New York; and, in connection with the pecu- niary trust, we see under the control of each committee a great system of arrangements for acting on public opinion ,secretaries, agents, anni- versaries, presses, and the affection and enthusiasm connected with a great evangelical movement. Our question is, Ought these committees to be, formally and really, respons- ible to some constituency? We can not doubt that our read- ers are prepared, nay were quite ready at the outset, to answer our question in the affirmative. But we would have them distinctly conscious of the reasons why the men that hold such trusts ought to be thus re- sponsible. We do not find those reasons, and we presume our read- ers will not find them, in any dis- trust of the individuals who at the present time happen to hold this power; for we have all the confi- dence in their integrity, their. de- votedness, and their experience, that can be demanded. Our rea- sons, on the contrary, are such as these: 1. A true responsibility of the ex- ecutive to some superior or con- stituent power, is a security against mismanagement and the gradual perversion of the trust. Security against fraudulent mismanagement is not what we speak of~ So far as strict business fidelity is concerned, we do not think that any thing would be lost if the Prudential Committee of the American Board, and the Executive Committee of the Amer- ican Tract Society, as now existing, were formally authorized to fill all their own vacancies henceforward, and to manage matters at their own discretion, giving only suph reports to the public, through the press, and at anniversary meetings, as shall to them seem expedient. As to mere honesty, the members of each com- mitteeseven in one instance and fifteen in the othermay safely enough be left to watch one another as well as their secretaries and the other agents under their control. The danger against which we would guard, is altogether of a different sort. Men acting in any great ex- ecutive trust, if they are required at stated periods to give a full account of their proceedings, and if they know that their policy is not merely to commend itself to mankind at large by the eclat of its success, but is to be continually reviewed in its details by other minds, will be more likely to act wisely than if they act simply at their own discretion. And should they err, as they easily may, in consequence of devoting their minds too engrossingly to the one 1847.] Responsibility in the Management of Societies. 33 particular interest which they have in hand, their errors are more like- ly to be immediately discovered and corrected. Great perversions of trusts like these, whenever they oc- cur, are made for the most part un- consciously, gradually, and with the best intentions. 2. We come then to another rea- son for making the executive ad- ministration of these societies, truly and formally responsible to some definite constituency. Such respori- sibility is a security against the dan- gerous accumulation of power in a few hands. The grand palladium of political liberty is that there shall be no power, and especially no ad- ministrative power, without respon- sibility. Power, and especially ex- ecutive power, if placed in irrespon- sible hands, grows and accumulates till nothing but the violence of rev- olution can resist it. For the same reason the power which is neces- sarily involved in the administration of these great societies, and of others like them, and which must neces- sarily be entrusted to a few hands, should be carefully guarded and bounded by corresponding respon- sibility. But we need not spend time in the illustration of this point. 3. There is another argument, more pressing if not more important. An irresponsible executive at the head of one of these great move- ments, is constantly liable to suspicion and assault, and has no legitimate protection. There are men, and in this country of ours they are not in- significant in numbers or in the faculty of making themselves felt, whose instinctive jealousies are kin- dled at the sight of power, and who can not rest till they have ascertain- ed that there is some adequate secu- rity against the possible abuse of it. But it is not from these men only that jealousies may spring up, against an irresponsible executive at the head of an institution like those of which we are speaking. Suppose for example, that some missionary, VOL. V. deeming himself unjustly treated by the committee at Boston, could find no Board properly constituted for such business, to hear his complaint or appeal and to decide between him and the committee. Or suppose that when dissatisfaction arises in any quarter respecting the policy pur- sued by the committee at the Tract House in New York, the dissatisfied party could find no constituent body before which the grounds of its dis- content could be fairly and freely discussed, and by which the errors of the committee could be overruled and corrected. How plain is it that in such a case the committee is placed in a most disadvantageous position. It is exposed to jealousy and misrepresentation on every side; but it has no opportunity of meeting its accusers face to face, and de- fending itself openly and manfully against their erroneoi~is constructions or their unfriendly imputations. it is sensitive to every attack; but it can not reply without some compro~. mise of dignity. And yet that offi- cial silence operates at once to irri- tate the jealousy that ought to be conciliated, and to put new weapons into the hands of opposition. How strong is the temptation in such cir- cumstancesand how unconscious- ly may it operateto form a harsh judgment of the motives from which opposition proceeds, and then to act accordingly. How gradually, and in a sense unintentionally, may the whole apparatus of an extended or- ganization, be employed to counter- act the efforts, by destroying the in- fluence and reputation, of the refrac- tory individuals who in their self- conceit, or for some bye ends, have dared to embarrass the great and blessed cause. That these secretaries, then, and these administrative committees, ought to be responsible to somebody, is plain; and the reasons are plain. But to whom, and how ? XVhat is the best arrangement for. effecting and maintaining the re~ponsibility 34 Responsibility in the Management of Societies. that is so desirable? This is the second branch of our inquiry. And here our first position is, that a responsibility to the public at large, or to that portion of the pub- lic to which the enterprise looks for support, is not sufficient. Such a responsibility undoubtedly exists in every instance, and undoubtedly its influence is highly salutary. No society can go along any faster, or any further, than it is sustained by public confidence in the quarters to which it looks for pecuniary contri- butions. In this view, the Board of Missions and the Tract Society, and all similar organizations, are respon- sible to the Christian community, and it is well in every respect that they are so. Such responsibility, however, is a responsibility of the society itself, as a whole ; it is a re- sponsibility which exists in the ne- cessity which the society is under, of commending its object and its methods to the largest possible num- ber of individuals, in order to enlist the largest possible number of sup- porters and friends. But what we are inquiring after is not the respon- sibility of the society as a whole, to the public. Our inquiry is rather, who shall be the society ? Shall the executive administration, to wit, the secretaries and the committee, be the society, and be responsible in that capacity, directly and solely, to the public? Or shall there be a constituent body bet~veen the com- mittee and the public, to whom the committee shall be responsible, and who shall therefore be, within cer- tain limits, responsible for the com- mittee? To make the committee responsible only to the public, is as much as to require that all the pro- ceedings of the committee shall be publicly discussed, and that every man who feels himself in any man- ner aggrieved by their action in any case, or whose judgment dif- fers from theirs on any serious ques- tion, shall appeal at once to the tribunal of the public, and shall prosecute his appeal by popular agitation. But in this idea of responsibility to the public, there is something of a fallacy which it may be worth the while to expose. Doubtless the Ex- ecutive Committee of the American Tract Society are responsible to the public; that is, whenever the public shall refuse to buy their books or to give them money, the committee will be obliged to abdicate. So is the emperor of Austria responsible to the people whom he governs. Whenever the people in all the pro. vinces and kingdoms of that empire shall take it into their heads to over- turn the government, and to run all the risks and make all the sacrifices involved in such a revolution, they can do it. And the emperor, or ra- ther Metternich in his behalf, must needs conduct his administration with that possibility in view, and must consider well what the people will bear and what they ~vill not bear. But he knows very well, and every body knows, that the people will bear a great deal before they will run all the hazards involved in a revolution. And besides all that, he has the means of influencing public opinion, to an unlimited de- gree, in favor of submission to his measures; and he has the means of making the people submit to many things which they would soon re- form if they could utter their thoughts freely and peacefully in a properly constituted representative assembly. Not altogether unlike to this, is the sense in which the exe- cutive administration of a great and popular institution, is responsible to the public. The object for which that institution exists is a great ob- ject; one which thousands of intel.~ ligent men, and tens of thousands of good people less intelligent, are not willing to give up because of any slight dissatisfaction with the man- ner in which the institution is con- ducted. The withholding of con- tributions is a desperate remedy and 1847.] Responsibility in the Management of Societies. 35 will not be employed in respect to so great an enterprise, save in extreme cases. And not only so, but the ad- ministration of a great and popular society, instead of being passively governed by public opinion, is itself, to an indefinite extent, the creator of public opinion in respect to its own policy; or more exactly, the creator of that public opinion on which it depends for its supplies. The entire system of agencies, cor- respondence, publications, and anni- versary meetings, is a mighty ma- chinery for forming and guiding public opinion. And many a man there is, not particularly deficient in moral courage, nor deficient in wis- dom and conscientiousness, who, in any other than an absolutely desper- ate case, would not dare resist that machinery, for the reason that in so doing he would only throw away his efforts and sacrifice himself to no purpose. But are not these societies respon- sible to the churches ?to individ- ual churches, and to those ecclesias- tical bodies which may be considered as, in one sense or another, repre- senting the churches? Undoubtedly they are, and undoubtedly this rela- tion between them and the churches is greatly for the welfare of both. But churches and ecclesiastical bo- dies, considered in reference to any control which they exert over our great societies, are only organs through which public opinion may manifest itself. Responsibility to the churches, then, is only one form of that responsibility to the public, of which we have already spoken; just as responsibility to the press is another form of the same thing. The man who would bring the ad- ministrative committee of some great society to account, may write what he would say, and publish it in the uewspapers, or in a pamphlet; or, he may set forth his views in a church meeting, or a presbytery, in a consociation or a synod, in a gen- eral association or a general assem bly; and the struggle which will ensue may serve at least to show whether his personal influence, or the official influence of the commit- tee is the greater in that quarter. There are those who would make this responsibility to the churches more explicit, more methodical, and more complete. Instead of volun- tary societies as we call them, they would have ecclesiastical boards to manage all benevolent enterprises. This is the system of the Methodists, and it has been adopted by the Epis- copalians, and by the Presbyterians of the Annual Assembly. We have no admiration for such arrange- ments, and no confidence in them. Some of our Old School Pres- byterian friends, we believe, are already beginning to suspect that the executive committee of an ec- clesiastical board is in no vise bet- ter than the executive committee of a voluntary society; and, indeed, that under the new arrangem entsby which the church, as such, and in its distinctive character, was to be a missionary society, and an education society, and a society for publishing books and tracts,the church, as such, instead of gov- erning the various executive com- mittees is itself, even in its eccle- siastical capacity, likely to be gov- erned by them. rfhat the executive committee of the Assemblys Board of Publication is any more really under the control of their churches than the Executive Committee of the American Tract Society, may be doubted without incurring the guilt of temerity ; and that it is much more likely to make itself felt as a power in the General Assem- bly, and in subordinate judicatures, is too plain to be argued. When the churches of New England, hav- ing grown weary of Congregation- alism, shall desire to establish a strong central government, let them set up at Boston a complete system of ecclesiastical boards fo~ the con- duct of all benevolent enterprises; ResponsiZility in the Management of Societies. and they will be as well provided for as the nature of the case will admit. Some of our readers may possi- bly entertain the notion that the an- niversary public assembly, in the Broadway Tabernacle, or elsewhere, which hears the annual report of the committee, and accepts it by a vote, and orders it to be printed, is the very constituency which we are in- quiring for, and that here is a true and sufficient responsibility. Yet we hardly need to say that such meetings are not for business, but for exhibitionfar more like a col- lege commencement than like a de- liberative assembly. The speeches made are so many orations, saluta- tory, valedictory, and the like, pro- nounced for the edification and grat- ification of the audience, rather than a free inquiry and debate touching the conduct of the committee. The candidate for a bachelors degree, who should dare, upon the com- mencement platform, to enter into a free examination of the doings of the college government, would hard- ly miss the mark more widely than the anniversary orator, who should venture to find fault with the pro- ceedings of the committee by whose favor he was allowed to speak. And if any man whose name was not on the printed schedule, should be so clean daft as to rise in his place and bring forth a motion or a speech out of his own private judg- ment, the huge columns of the Ta- bernacle would hardly endure the disorder. The conduct of Drs. Smith and Anthon, when, at the bishops call, they rose in the sim- plicity of their souls and protested against Mr. Careys ordination, was not more unrubrical. The best thing that the unlucky wight could do af- ter offering such a speech or motion, would be to follow the example of the two doctors on the occasion re- ferred to, who, when they saw that they had protested to no purpose, took their hats and walked out of the house. One other form of responsibility remains to be considered. rphe ex- ecutive of any such institution may be made responsible to a board of managers. Such an arrangement, properly carried into effect, would leave nothing to be desired which the imperfection of all things human will permit. But in order that it may be properly carried into effect, several things are necessary, which are often disregarded. 1. The board must be the repre- sentative body of the society, and must be constituted for that end. The society itself, considered as consisting of all who contribute to the enterprise, can not deliberate cannot be assembled for the trans- action of any business, otherwise than in the fictitious manner of an anniversary meeting. The society, thus considered, cannot be appealed to or argued with, otherwise than through the press. And its appro- bation or disapprobation of particu- lar measures, can in no way be fair- ly and indisputably ascertained. The society is the public, and its opinion is public opinion. We say then, that the proper function of a board is that of trustees for the con- tributors, the living and the dead. 2. rf he board, then, should be a deliberative body. Its function should not begin and end with elect- ing an executive committee. The annual reports of the administration should be examined by them, and should go forth to the public with their intelligent and deliberate ap- proval. Plainly, then, the board should be so constituted, and its meetings should be so arranged, as to facilitate deliberation and discus- sion. 3. It must be a select body; not too numerous for the transaction of business, not so numerous as to di- minish the sense of individual re- sponsibility in the members, not so numerous, nor so scattered, as tQ make it likely that those who are present at one meeting will all, or 1847.] Responsibility in the Management of Societies. 37 nearly all, be absent from the next, and that there will be no corporate identity from one meeting to another. 4. Its business must be supervis- ion, not administration. Its relation to the executive department of the institution should be not unlike that of the corporation to the faculty in a well constituted and well conduct- ed college. Its meetings therefore should be unfrequent, ordinarily not more than one in a year; and each annual meeting should be long enough for a deliberate and faith- ful review of the administration of the year, and for the expression of a careful opinion on whatever questions may legitimately come be- fore it. 5. From these principles it fol- lows that the members of such a board should not be appointed by a mere show of hands, or a sound of aye, in a great promiscuous as- sembly where nobody knows who votes or who has a right to vote. On the contrary they should be de- liberately selected, and called to participate in the trust, by those who are most likely to act wisely and disinterestedly. Above all they should not be appointed directly or indirectly by the executive officers whom it is their duty to supervise. Let the board of managers be thus constituted; let the executive committee be their committee ap- pointed by them and giving account to them; and a real and effective responsibility is secured. Such an arrangement is manifestly safer in respect to the great interests con- cerned, pecuniary and moral, eccle- siastical aiid religious, than any other that we can conceive. Such an arrangement, we doubt riot, will be more effectual than any other in obtaining public confidence, and in retaining it through all agitations and changes. An arrangement of this kind is provided for theoretical- ly, in all the great societies. Yet practically, in most cases, the pro. vision amounts to little, for the rea son that some or all of the obvious principles of the case are disregard- ed. The tendency of the trust to slide into the hands of the execu- tive, and to rest there without any real responsibility, seems almost ir- resistible. We will illustrate this by referring once more to the two great institu- tions which we have already nam- ed so often, and then our word will have been spoken. The theory of the Tract Society is plain enough. There is an Exec- utive Committee, elected by a Board of Directors, and there- fore immediately responsible to that board. The Directors are a delib- erative body with powers to di- rect the system and policy of the institution, part of them annually ap- pointed to that trust by the mem- bers of the society, the others con- stituted for life by the payment of fifty dollar subscriptions. The So- ciety itself includes all donors of not less than twenty dollars at one time. And what is the practice? Such a thing as a deliberate election of thirty-six Directors by the members of the society, was never heard of. At the appointed stage in the cele- bration of the anniversary solemni- ties, when all other ceremonies have been duly performed, some one, gen- erally a member of the Executive Committee, moves that certain per- sons whom he names, or whom with- out naming he designates as the of- ficers of the last year, be elected officers for the year ensuing. The motion is immediately put to the confused assembly, and declared to be a vote. In a word, the thirty- six elective Directors are practical- ly appointed by the Executive Com- mittee. The anniversary celebra- tion is then closed with the doxolo- gy and the benediction; and the meeting of the Directors, for the choice of an Executive Committee, follows on the spot. A dozenindi- viduals, perhaps, are gathered in a 38 Responsibility in the Management of Societies. [Jan. huddle around the Presidents chair on the platform, while the congre- gation is retiring; as many ballots prepared and printed beforehand at the Tract House are passed through their hands, and the business is fin- ished. If the Board of Directors has ever held any other sort of a meeting in the twenty-one years since the So- ciety was formed,except in one peculiar instance which has since been pronounced entirely out of or- der in the judgment of some of the executive officersthe knowledge of such a meeting has never come to us. The whole story then is, the Executive Committee virtually ap- point not only the Directors but themselves also, and are really re- sponsible to nobody, while yet they control more than $150,000 an- nually. We have long regarded the con- stitution of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, as incomparably the wisest and safest of all constitutions for a great missionary organization. In theo- ry, it is an incorporated board of commissioners or trustees, act- ing as almoners for all who are dis- posed to entrust them with funds to be expended in foreign missions. As incorporated by the Legislature of Massachusetts, in 1812, the com- missioners, then eleven in number, were authorized at any annual meet. ing to elect by ballot any suitable persons to be members of said Board, either to supply vacancies, or in addition to their present num- ber,the only limitation of their discretion being that not less than one-third of the commissioners should always be respectable lay- men, and not less than one third respectable clergymen, the re- maining third to be characters of the same description, whether cler- gymen or laymen. The charter authorizes the commissioners to elect all necessary officers from among theri~selves; it names particularly a Prudential Committee, and pro. vides that the signatures of the chairman and clerk of that commit- tee, together with the seal of the corporation, shall give validity to deeds and contracts in behalf of the Board. The system, in its original conception, is as wise and safe as it is simple. The self-perpetuating character of the corporation, which is its most obvious peculiarity, is its most obvious excellency, as an in- stitution for an extended system of operations. And this peculiarity is most completely in accordance with Congregational institutions. rphis board of trust for foreign missions, is constituted precisely like the board of trust for a Congregational col- lege, or theological seminarya board filling its own vacancies in the exercise of its own deliberate wisdom, and regarding that as one of the highest portions of its high trust. The unparalleled degree of public confidence which the Amer- ican Board obtained so early, and has held so long, is a testimony in behalf of this arrangement, which can not well be disputed. What better arrangement than this, for the supervision of the Prudential Com- mittee, could be contrived? Yet with all our confidence in this constitution, we see dangers ari- sing at no very great distance. The great danger is that the secretaries and Prudential Committee, instead of being the mere executive, and as such strictly and continually respon- sible, will become themselves the Board, and that what ought to be the Board will become a mere append- age to the committee. Whenever such a change shall have come to pass, the institution will soon lose the strength of its hold upon the confidence of the public. We con- sider ourselves, therefore, as doing the very best of work for the great missionary cause, while we point out what we conceive to be the sources of this danger. 1. It seems to have been an over- sight in the charter, that the Board 1847.] Responsibility in tAe Management of Societies. 39 was not definitely limited in regard to the increase of its members. The consequence is, that the num- ber of members has been inadvert- ently increased, till the last report shows us a catalocrue of one dred and hun- times as eighty-six,full three many as there ought to be, and the number is still increasing every year. In this way the sense of individual responsibility on the part of the Commissioners is neces- sarily weakened. The individual who esteems others better than him- self, and therefore esteems himself much less than the one-hundred-and. eighty-sixth part of the corporation, is not half so likely to feel an obli- gation to attend the meetings, and when attending is not half so likely to exercise his own free judgment, or to bend his powers earnestly to the business in hand, as he would be if the corporation were only half as numerous. Thus, the larger the number of individuals to whom this great trust is committed, the more is the responsibility divided, and the more probable is it that the body will be swayed by the opinions of the secretaries and the committee. We would have the number of Com- missioners reduced as soon as prac- ticable, to not more than sixty. For- ty would be still better. 2. Simultaneously with this great increase in the number of Commis- sioners, has been another change, equally unfavorable to the character of the institution as a board of trust. Twenty-five years ago, a rule was established by which clergymen, on the payment of fifty dollars at one time, and laymen, on the payment of one hundred dollars, become honorary members, and as such, have a stipulated right to be present at all meetings, to participate in all debates, and, in a word, to do every thing but vote. Of these honorary members there are already some thousands, and every month increas- es the number. The Board of Corn- missioners, as it was contrived and instituted by its founders, as it was chartered by the state of Massachu- setts, as it was endowed by the mu- nificence of Norris, has well nigh lost its identity. Should the mem- bers of the corporation hold a meet- ing by themselves for the transac- tion of the business of their trust, every one of the thousands of hon- orary members might sue the cor- poration and recover the money which he paid for his membership. flow entirely would the Corporation of Yale College, or that of the An- dover Seminary, disqualify itself for its duties as a board of trust, and forfeit the confidence of the public, if it should place itself in a similar position. 3. As a matter of course, the character of the annual meetings has been greatly changed. Formerly, they were strictly meetings of trus- tees, coming together to attend to the business of their trust. Accord- ing to the almost universal usage in the administration of public trusts, the traveling expenses of the Com- missioners in going to the place of meeting, and returning to their homes, were a charge upon the treasury.* The business sessions of each annual meeting were dis- tingu ished from the public assem- blies for popular addresses and reli- gious services, and were held in some room adapted, in size and structure, to the transaction of busi- ness; and though spectators were not excluded from those sessions, they did not resort to them, for the reason that there were no perform- ances there particularly designed for their enjoyment or for their edi- ification. if there was debate, no- body spoke for display, or for pop- * There is a reason for this usage, aside from its obvious fitness. The man who works for nothing and pays his own ex- penses, is not likely to do his work quite so well, be he ever so conscientious, as the man, equally conscientious, who feels that his expenses at least, are a charge upon those for whom he is working. 40 Responsibility in tke Management of Societies. ular effect, or for the reporters, or otherwise than in a business fash- ion; and if there were differences of opinion, they could be freely ut- tered, and nobody was wounded. But how great has been the change within the last ten years. Now, what ought to be business sessions, are held in a church, the largest that can be had. Seats and tables, on an elevated platform, are pro- vided not only for the officers of the institution, hut for the reporters of newspapers, both religious and sec- ular. From the galleries, bright eyes that are there not to pierce in- to the intricacies of business, but to glitter with emotion and to be suf- fused with pleasurable tears, look down upon the crowds below. The meeting is, in short, very much like an anniversary of three days dur- ation, and is necessarily becoming more and more so. In such an as- sembly, a business discussion, and particularly a free examination of what has been done by the c6mmit- tee, as if the committee were amen- able to that assembly, is felt to be out of place; it does not edify. The exercises of the meeting are necessarily conducted with refer- ence to popular effect, and all the forms of business, therefore, must be despatched, as forms, without debate or difference of opinion. While this is so, the meeting must of course be an exceedingly diffi- cult thing to manage; and yet it must he managed, and, to keep it from being a total failure, all the proceedings must be planned out beforehand, by the officers, like the proceedings of any other mass- meeting. But with all the skill em- ployed from year to year in the get- ting up, and with all the new excite- ments attendant on the progress of the work, is there not ~ danger that these protracted mass-meetings will soon be less attractive than they have been; and that whenever they begin to decline, the effect on the public will he discouraging, and therefore disastrous to the cause The reader will observe that we have imputed no sinister design, no love of power, no dislike of respon- sibility, to any of the highly re- spected men who in these, or in other like societies, are entrusted with the duty of administration. On the contrary, we have taken it for granted that they see this matter as we see it, and will rejoice heart- ily that the suggestions which we have made proceed from friends to whom no personal jealousy can be imputed, and whose motives can in no manner he brought into suspi- cion. It will also be observed that we have proposed no revolutionary changes, no new constitutions, no rash experiments. On the contrary, we have not supposed that any con- stitutional change will be necessary in either of the two great societies which have been taken to illustrate our remarks. Should we under- take to propose a remedy for the dangers we have pointed out, we should propose nothing violent, noth- ing revolutionary. Some very sim- ple changes in each of those great establishments, putting in force ra- ther than setting aside the constitu- tion as it is, are all that we conceive to he necessary. Our views are simply and heartily conservative. But we will not pursue the subject any farther at present; for the dis- cussion which we have opened is one which is likely to he taken up in other quarters, and which we may therefore have occasion to resume hereafter. L. B. 1847.] The True Spirit of Devotion, 4.c. 41 THE TRUE SPIRIT OF DEVOTION, AND THE BEST METHOD OF ITS BEING ALIVE IN THE MIND. IT is with some diffidence, that we venture to enter upon a theme so copious, and in some respects so difficult, as that which is announced in the heading of this article. And yet the intrinsic importance of this subject to every mans highest wel- fare, together with the prevalence (as is thought) of some obscure or false views respecting it, in many minds, at the present day, seems to commend it as a proper subject for serious and careful examination. What we chiefly propose, in the following remarks, is to call atten- tion to this deeply interesting theme, rather than to discuss it fully. Many schemes of proposed reform are afloat at the present day, founded as we think, on erroneous or very confused opinions in ethics and the- ology; and from these schemes of reform, results are confidently anti- cipated, by their authors and propa- gators, in respect to which they will, by and by, find themselves sadly disappointed. And then, as in all similar cases of projected reform and ultimate disappointment that have preceded them, there will come on a reaction of doubt and despondency in the minds of their authors, unfavorable to all attempts of every sort for bettering the con- dition of mankind, both the sound and the practicable, as well as the unsound and the Utopian. In respect to the particular sub- ject of consideration now before us, namely, What is the true spirit of devotion, and how may it best be upheld and kept alive in the Chris- tians mindit seems to us, that in any thing like a full and clear analysis of the case in hand, the following things are of vital im- portance, or at least, are worthy of very serious reflection. VOL. V. 6 MAINTAINED AND KEPT 1. We must go back a little, and settle in our minds a correct theory of moral sentiments. There is much looseness and indeterminateness of thinking on this point. Many per- sons set out with false theories as to the very nature of moral excel- lencewhat it is, and wherein it does truly consist. They begin wrong, and of course, they go wrong all through. It is perfectly obvious to any one who observes at all what is taking place around him, that there is a wide difference, and this difference we fear is growing wider and wider in the minds of many among us, as to what consti- tutes right, and what constitutes wrong, in moral action; as to what is the true and proper standard on this subject, at which men should be directing their aims and efforts; as to what ought to be the grand ultimate object of their aspirations, hopes and endeavors. Now if this be so, as we have here stated it to be, it is certainly a matter very much to be regretted, on account of its many unhappy influences upon the cause of true evangelical virtue and sound morals. Hence, as it seems to us, it is exceedingly important that we should endeavor to form, and to get firmly established in our minds, at the very outset, a clear and correct theory of moral sentimentsthat is, that our minds should be intelligently and definitely settled as to what is virtue and what is vice; what is moral rectitude and what is moral obliquity ; what is sin and what is holiness in heart and life. Until these first princi~ ples are settled, and settled clearly and firmly, it seems to us that men will be liable to run into many mis- takes, and much confusion, as to what is the true spirit of religious

1847.] The True Spirit of Devotion, 4.c. 41 THE TRUE SPIRIT OF DEVOTION, AND THE BEST METHOD OF ITS BEING ALIVE IN THE MIND. IT is with some diffidence, that we venture to enter upon a theme so copious, and in some respects so difficult, as that which is announced in the heading of this article. And yet the intrinsic importance of this subject to every mans highest wel- fare, together with the prevalence (as is thought) of some obscure or false views respecting it, in many minds, at the present day, seems to commend it as a proper subject for serious and careful examination. What we chiefly propose, in the following remarks, is to call atten- tion to this deeply interesting theme, rather than to discuss it fully. Many schemes of proposed reform are afloat at the present day, founded as we think, on erroneous or very confused opinions in ethics and the- ology; and from these schemes of reform, results are confidently anti- cipated, by their authors and propa- gators, in respect to which they will, by and by, find themselves sadly disappointed. And then, as in all similar cases of projected reform and ultimate disappointment that have preceded them, there will come on a reaction of doubt and despondency in the minds of their authors, unfavorable to all attempts of every sort for bettering the con- dition of mankind, both the sound and the practicable, as well as the unsound and the Utopian. In respect to the particular sub- ject of consideration now before us, namely, What is the true spirit of devotion, and how may it best be upheld and kept alive in the Chris- tians mindit seems to us, that in any thing like a full and clear analysis of the case in hand, the following things are of vital im- portance, or at least, are worthy of very serious reflection. VOL. V. 6 MAINTAINED AND KEPT 1. We must go back a little, and settle in our minds a correct theory of moral sentiments. There is much looseness and indeterminateness of thinking on this point. Many per- sons set out with false theories as to the very nature of moral excel- lencewhat it is, and wherein it does truly consist. They begin wrong, and of course, they go wrong all through. It is perfectly obvious to any one who observes at all what is taking place around him, that there is a wide difference, and this difference we fear is growing wider and wider in the minds of many among us, as to what consti- tutes right, and what constitutes wrong, in moral action; as to what is the true and proper standard on this subject, at which men should be directing their aims and efforts; as to what ought to be the grand ultimate object of their aspirations, hopes and endeavors. Now if this be so, as we have here stated it to be, it is certainly a matter very much to be regretted, on account of its many unhappy influences upon the cause of true evangelical virtue and sound morals. Hence, as it seems to us, it is exceedingly important that we should endeavor to form, and to get firmly established in our minds, at the very outset, a clear and correct theory of moral sentimentsthat is, that our minds should be intelligently and definitely settled as to what is virtue and what is vice; what is moral rectitude and what is moral obliquity ; what is sin and what is holiness in heart and life. Until these first princi~ ples are settled, and settled clearly and firmly, it seems to us that men will be liable to run into many mis- takes, and much confusion, as to what is the true spirit of religious 42 The True Spirit of Devotion, 4-c. [Jan. devotion, and consequently, as to what are the best means of uphold- ing and keeping alive that spirit in the minds of men. For, it will be seen at once, that the question, what is right and what is wrong, in moral action and moral character, is a question affecting deeply, and it may be affecting vitally, the great fundamental principle in theology to witwhat is the true moral char- acter of the Supreme Being him- self, and why should men adore and love and serve him. It will not be denied by any one, that it is, primarily, the moral excellence of God, which constitutes, in him, his true worthiness to be adored, and loved, and served, by mankind, just as he in fact claims to be. In other words, it is the fact that there exists in him a boundless moral rectitude, moral purity, moral grandeur and moral loveliness, or all in one word, moral excellence,it is this fact, which lays the very foundation of his claims upon us, and which con- stitutes, primarily, the basis of our obligations towards him. This all are ready to concede. Now sup- pose, that we are not all agreed as to what true moral excellence is. Suppose that the terms, infinite rec- titude, infinite purity, infinite moral grandeur, and moral loveliness, and the like expressions, convey to mens minds, not the same ideas, but widely different ideas. Sup- pose that moral excellence is, in the view of one man, a very different thing from what it is in the view of another man. In other words, suppose that men differ from one another in their abstract notions of that which is morally excellent and right and good. Will not this very thing affect their views of the Supreme Intelligence itself? Will it not be so necessarily, and as a matter of course? If we are not agreed as to the very nature of moral excellence in any being, how can we be supposed to be agreed as to what constitutes consummate moral excellence in God himself? Here, we apprehend, lies the ground of that actual discrepancy among men, which exists in their views respecting the glorious author and moral governor of the universe. They set out with inaccurate or con- fused notions of what is true and consummate moral excellence in the abstract, and therefore of what is true and the highest moral excel- lence in any being actually exist- ing, whether created or uncreated, whether in God or man. Here, as we think, all error, or nearly all error in theology begins. Owing to the influence of a depraved and wicked heart, mens theories, their inward secret practical views, re- specting the very nature of virtue and vice, sin and holiness, moral good and moral evil, are greatly defective, loose, obscure, and often positively wrong. They see not the true beauty of holiness. They understand not, fully and clearly at least, in what true holiness consists. Into their ideal of holiness they put many things which do not belong there; or they take away things which ought to be there, and which are essential to a correct appre- hension of this subject. Hence, when they come to think of God, and to transfer their miserable theo- ries to his character and govern- ment, and to apply those theories to the great practical ~urposes and duties of life, no wonder that we should often find them, as we do in fact find them, running into a careless atheistical recklessness of God and of his favor on the one hand, or into some wild impractica- ble scheme, utterly Utopian and hopeless, of doing good on earth and gaining heaven at last, on the other. The day in which we live is fruitful in such schemes. And the tendency of things still is, we think, from bad to worse in this respect, unless there shall be a com- ing back to correct first principles, in relation to the character and gov 1847.] Tke True Spirit of Devotion, .4.c. 43 eminent of God, and to what con- stitutes the nature of a true, lofty, consu inmate, moral excellence, in the abstract. To cultivate and keep alive, then, the true spirit of devo- tion, with all its conservative, health- ful, happy influences around us and upon us, let us begin with clear and settled views of the nature of sin and of the nature of holiness, and of the wide and eternal separation between them. Let us establish, in our own minds, and get a clear and distinct view of what that lovely, beautiful, excellent thing, virtue, is on the one hand, and what that hateful, ugly, malignant thing, vice, is on the other. Let us be sure that we are right here. Let us be root- ed and grounded in the truth on this point. And then, having set- tled our views in this matter, let us fearlessly and consistently carry up these views to the character and government of God. Let us not shrink from applying them to the Su- preme Being himself. 2. This leads us to remark fur- ther, That clear, settled, scriptural views, respecting the moral charac- ter of God, are vitally important in aiding us to exercise and keep alive the true spirit of Devotion. The spirit of devotion in mankind; the fear, the reverence, the awe, the hope, the confidence, the love, which they entertain towards their Maker, will depend, very much, on the con- ceptions which they form and cher- ish, respecting His moral perfection. If their conceptions concerning what constitutes the true moral excellence of God are wrong, or are very ob- scure and feeble, or are vague and indefinite, or are unsettled and fluc- tuating, now one thing and now an- other, such wrong conceptions re- specting God, when entertained even by the Christian himself, will affect unhappily his piety. They will taint his devotional exercises. They will enter with him into the closet, into the house of God, into the cir- cle gathered with him around the family altar, into all the secret ex- ercises of his inmost heart and soul, and they will be to him like an evil genius there, hindering, deadening, perhaps for the time being wholly precluding, his spiritual and pleas- ant intercourse with [leaven. There are conceptions of God which are destructive of true piety. Views may be taken of the moral charac- ter of the Most 1-ugh, which are deadly to the true spirit of prayer before him, and which can not be cherished without bringing the blight of spiritual death upon the soul~ Nor is the danger small, that men will form erroneous conceptions of God. They are perpetually tempted to do this. Multitudes are in fact doing this. They are entertaining radi- cally wrong views~ of their Maker. They are ascribing to him a charac- ter which does not belong to him, and which he disowns. Especially is this true, as we think, at the pres- ent day. It may be said to be one feature in the general aspect of our times. We see it and hear of it, in one way or another, all around us. It is seen in attempts to set forth, before the public mind, the goodness and mercy of God, at the expense of his justice and holiness. It is seen in the repugnance which many feel, to the idea of Gods exercising a discriminating moral government over his creatures. It is seen in the false sentiments which are coming into vogue, respecting all govern- ment, all authority, all effectual co- ercion and restraint upon mens evil inclinations. It is seen in crude and false notions respecting the ori- gin of law and government, and re- specting the right and equity of pun- ishments. It is seen in the weak visionary schemes and doctrines of a psuedo-philanthropy, which in va- rious forms are now being put forth upon the world, as never before. It is seen in the wavering of the minds of many in regard to truths and principles, which were once deem- ed both unquestionable in themselves 44 The True Spirit of Devotion, 4-c. and fundamental to the order and well being of human society. It is seen in the open and systematized attempts now making to introduce upon our shores, the disorganizing, leveling doctrines of the Fourier school in France, and to propagate here on American soil, what we can not but regard as one of the most revolting and dreadful schemes of unbridled, lawless licentiousness, that has ever been devised by the heart of man. It is seen in the wavering, the silence, the advocacy of th~ wrong side, of the-public secular press, in many instances and on some questions of vital interest to mankind. Other causes, doubt- less, have their share of influence in producing these and other such like results. But one fruitful cause of these things is a lax and rotten theology. Mistaken,unworthy, weak views of the moral character of God, the Supreme Ruler over all, are do- ing no small part of the mischief. Who does not see that the Divine Being as he is set forth in the Bible, is not the being recognized and wor- shiped by many of the professed reformers of the day? The very idea of an all-inspecting, all-govern- ing, infinitely pure, just and holy God, seems to have passed away and to have ceased to exist, in the minds and feelings of many among us; and in its place, some lifeless wax-work creation of a soft and sickly sentimentalism has been in- troduced; a God who hates not sin; a God who loves not holiness; a God stripped of authority, without a law, without a throne, and who is seeking, not so much to make men virtuous, humble, teachable, weaned from earth, submissive to his will, and contented with the lot assigned them, as first of all, and chief of all, and by the force of changes in their external circumstances too, to bring about their happiness. One half of these schemes of human happiness entirely overlook the fact of mans natural inherent propensi ty to evil. They forget the funda- mental difficulty, human depravity and human wicke,dness. They set out wrong and they end wrong, and one vital error in these schemes is, there is rio God of truth, power and holiness in them, whose approbation and favor men are to secure, and whose frown and wrath they are to deprecate and flee from, as the only possible road to true and ultimate happiness. Let us see to it, then, that our views of the character of God are right views; that they are not visionary; that they are not weak and sickly; that they are not such as will be likely to desert us in the time of trial, but such as will stand by and support us, when we shall most need their help. Let us look upon the moral character of God, as the actual embodiment, the living reality and substance, of that ideal excellence and perfection, of which mention was made under our last head. Irrespective of our own interests, irrespective of our own wishes, irrespective of our own hopes and fears, let us think of our adora- ble Maker just as he is, an infinitely pure and holy being, perfectly able to discriminate, and actually discrim- inating, between right and wrong in every possible case, and eternally and unalterably loving the right and hating the wrong. With such views of God, firmly fixed and deeply cherished within us, what reverence, what simplicity, what sofemnity, in manner and feeling, would mark our approaches to his throne of grace? What a sense of need should we be likely to feel, when thus approaching into his awful pres- ence? With such views respecting Him, how far should we be from all unseemly lightness of mind, or pre- sumptuousness of hope and expect- ation, before him? And how, in such a case, could we, contentedly, neglect to worship him, to pray to him, to praise him? Whowhat man on earthcould cast off fear and restrain prayer, if he habitually 1847.] Th7e True Spirit of Devotion, 4-c. 45 entertained, in his own mind, right, clear, vivid views of the true mor- al character of God? But it may be asked, are men really liable, in this enlightened land, and at this enlightened period of the world, to run into any very dangerous mistakes, in respect to so important a subject as that which relates to the moral character of God? We reply, they are in dan- ger, as we have already seen. But perhaps this part of the subject may require a little farther elucidation. There are, on this subject, as there are on most other subjects, two im- portant extremes, both of which are to be avoided. Ph is such a thing as taking too gloomy and too discouraging views of the Supreme Being. This is one extreme. And although not so dangerous, perhaps, as the other, it is still dangerous, and still to be carefully avoided. We will point it out more fully. There is a view of Moral Excel- lence, and consequently of the moral character of the Supreme Being Himself, which is pretty much con- fined to simple justice, or rectitude, or holiness, and without taking in, very clearly, if at all, the distinct ideas of benevolence, compassion, mercy. It is such a view as might have been taken of Him, perhaps would have been taken of Him, if sin and its necessary sequence, mis- ery, had never existed, or, if sin and misery had existed, but without an atonement, and without a system of redemption. Now there is, doubtless, much that is excellent and desirable in simple justice. This we are not about to call in question. The idea of perfect moral rectitude, however severely and rigidly stern that rectitude may be, and in whomsoever it is found, we are not going to say is an un- lovely, undesirable thing. On the contrary, we think rather, it is a lovely, desirable thing. And that as such, it commends itself to every unsophisticated, impartial, right- thinking observer of it. So, when it is viewed as forming the charac- ter of a moral agent, and of a mor- al ruler, if you please, over other beings, it presents, as we think, a view of that agent or ruler, which is not an unpleasant, undesirable view of him, but the reverse. So in reference to God himself. Holy beings would, doubtless, love to think of him as possessing infinite purity, infinite rectitude, infinite jus- tice, and would look upon him as an excellent and glorious be- ing in this view. The Scriptures would lead tis so to regard him, even in this view of his character. The seraphim, in the vision of the prophet, are represented as paying to him their spontaneous and de- lighted adorations, saying, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full of his glory. And a similar view of him is pre- sented to us in the 19th chapter of the Apocalypse, where the heavenly hosts are represented as worshiping him in the most exalted and raptur- ous strains of adoration and praise, in view of the simple display of his justice in the condiga punishment of the wicked. There is, then, in the naked attribute of justice itself, ir- respective of compassion and mercy, something which, in the view of perfectly holy beings, is matter of devout and joyful recognition by them, and which does in fact call forth the expression of their high satisfaction. Justice, therefore, punitive justice, the simple love of right and the simple hatred of wrong, in the Supreme Being, is a part, an essential part, of his moral perfec- tion. And it is ever to be so re- garded by us. For it is indispen- sable to a right view and apprecia- tion of his character. We have dwelt thus long upon this particular point, in order to avoid any possible misapprehension of our meaning. But when we have said all this re- specting simple rectitude,. justice, holiness, in the Divine Being, or in 46 The True Spirit of Devotion, 4c. [Jan. any other being, we must go still farther and say, that this is but a part, though an essential part, of true and consummate moral excel- lence. It is ivell, so far as it goes; but it leaves the character of him in whom it is found, unfinished, in- complete, not raised to the highest point of perfection. There needs to be, commingled with this love of right and hatred of wrong, and ready to flow forth from the same pure and holy heart in which it d~vells, the spirit of kindness also, the exercise of compassion, the meek, gentle, and forgiving temper of mercy, whenever the circum- stances arise which call for these feelings and prepare the way for their manifestation. Else, we do all feel, that the highest perfection of virtue and true moral excellence of character is wanting in that heart. Consummate beauty of moral char- acter, we do all feel, is only found in that mind where justice and mer- cy meet together in the formation of one, combined, harmoneous, im- pressive exhibition, both of the se- vere and the gentle, the sublime and the beautiful, the awful and the ten- der and lovely, in moral feeling and moral action. This, we regard, as the true beauty, the real excellence, the consummate perfection and glo- ry of the Infinite Sovereign of the universe. Just and holy He is, in the highest degree; but this is not the whole of his august and adora- ble character. This does not af- ford a complete, full view of what He is. If it did, if this were a com- plete view of His character, that glorious character would lack much of the true lustre and brightness which now belong to it. It would shine with a diminished radiance and attractiveness. Is it true, then, (as those who run into one extreme would seem to imagine,) that the eye of God from eternity rested only upon that exhibition of Himself af- terwards to be made, in which His holiness and hatred of sin were to be brought out to view and made known to his creatures? and is it true, that the Divine Being from eternity, was bent, only, upon pur- suing the great ends of Right and Justice, in that universe which He was afterwards to create and fill with intelligent creatures? This doubtless was a part of the object which infinite wisdom proposed to itself; was it the whole? were there no other, ulterior, perhaps higher, and more glorious objects, in contemplation? was the setting forth of Jehovahs holiness all that was needed to be done? rphis, in- deed, was of itself, a transcendently important object to be secured. And who that loves righteousness him- self and hates iniquity, does not re- joice in this exhibition of his Ma- kers character? But surely this was not all that was needed. The clemency and mercy of God were also to be brought out to view. And one ruling purpose in the Divine Mind, even then from eternity, was a purpose of mercy; one object, even then, from eternity, was the display of that mercy. Yes, even then, the Most High had his eye upon man, the would-be apostate, as the vessel of that mercy; upon sin, the would-be evil that should one day desolate even the pure and blissful bowers of Eden, as the oc- casion for the exercise of that mer- cy; and upon the decease of the Redeemer which was after- wards to be accomplished at Jeru- salem, as the method in which that mercy was to be so affectingly brought before mens eyes and commended to mens hearts. There is, also, another and oppo- site extreme touching this subject. A widely different view of the Su- preme Being is sometimes taken is very apt to be taken by minds of a certain class, and by large numbers among mankind. It is, in fact, the view of the Most High upon which vast multitudes among men, especially the unrefiecting, the 1847.] The True Spirit of Devotion, 4.c. 47 reckless, the profligate, seem chiefly delighted to dwell, whenever they think of this Glorious Being at all. We refer here to the attributes of benevolence, compassion, mercy, in Him. Here, as we think, mistakes, in their practical influence of the most frightful character, are com- mitted. And it is next to impossible to rectify these mistakes and root them out of mens minds, they are so soothing and congenial to the feel- ings of those who embrace them. To this point we call the readers particular attention. And that we may not be misunderstood we shall dwell upon it a little. The subject is trite perhaps, but not too trite to be important, or to render need- less what we are about to say in re- lation to it. Clemency and mercy, to be exercised in appropriate cir- cumstances, whenever such circum- stances arise (it will be conceded on all hands,)constitute a part of moral excellence. In man, in angel, in God himself, benevolence is a de- sirable, lovely, excellent thing. It is what all men love to see and love to think of; it is essential to the highest form and degree of moral excellence. Especially is this true of benevolence in the form of mercy. Mercy, wisely exercised, is the in- gredient of all others, in moral char- acter, which imparts to that charac- ter its chief and highest lovelieness. We must, therefore, ascribe mercy to our Maker. And we all readily do this. A God without benevo- lence in the form of mercy, to be ex- ercised in all the appropriate circum- stances for exercising mercy, would be, not the God of the Bible, not the God of nature even, not the God whom reason approves and acknowl- edges, but a widely different being; and mankind, as the conscious sub- jects of guilt, would find it difficult, if not impossible, to offer to such a being that affectionate worship and confidence and trust, which the true God requires of his creatures. Now as a God of benevolence and mercy, the Most High must desire, also, the happiness of mankind, and the hap- piness of his whole intelligent sys- tem, so far as this result can be wisely and properly brought about. And we deem it proper to say, that God created man to be happy, and that He created the system of which man is a part, for the sake of the general happiness which he intended to accomplish by it. True happi- ness, we think it proper to affirm, was one leading end, perhaps the chief end, for which the creation was made. But the inquiry natu- rally arises here, how was this end to be attained? In relation to man, how was he to be happy? truly, sol- idly, in all his being, eternally, hap- py? Not, surely, at all events, and as a matter of course, irrespective of mans own character and conduct. Not, surely, as a mere passive re- cipient of divine favors and bless- ings. Not, surely, in his sins, out of Christ, and aside from the plan of redemption in the gospel and from his own agency in the matter of ac- cepting that plan, and thus availing himself of its proffered benefits. How, then, in what way, was man to be happy, even under the mercy of God and by the mercy of God? This ,is the point that needs to be looked at. And there is just reason to fear that men will go wrong here. The mercy of God! the boundless mercy of God ! This is a pleasant idea, and as true as it is pleasant. It furnishes a real as well as wel- come, delightful refuge and solace to the heart of the lost wanderer in sin and misery. But to many, we fear, it is (through their perversion of it) an unsafe refuge, a fallacious ground of reliance. Such views of Gods mercy may be entertained, often are entertained, there is reason to fear, as are deadly to mens souls. Are you looking simply and alone to the mercy of God to save you? Beware, lest you misapprehend the true character of God, and, the true method of salvation. This is not a 4S The True Spirit of Devotion, ~c. vain warning, an idle, uncalled for caution. There are not a few men who appear never to think of God but as a being all mercy. In their view of his mercy they blend no other attributes. rrhey conceive of him only as merciful, only as good, only as benevolent, ready at all times and under all circumstances to pardon and save the guilty. Let us now, for a moment, test the cor. rectness of this view of the Supreme Being, by applying it to any other being, or to our essential notions of virtue itself; and let us thus see whether it is a safe view for us to proceed upon in the momentous con- cerns of mens souls. What ~vould you think of a man, a mere man, who was such a pattern of easy good nature, so kind, so merciful, so full of pity and compassion towards the calls of suffering humanity around him, as to be quite regard. less of the claims ofjustice and equity in his dealings, quite insensible to the distinction between right and wrong in the nature of things as a distinction of any practical value, and quite indifU~rent as to the ques- tion, whether, in his attempts to re- lieve present suffering around him, he might not be (in a wider view of things) shielding vice and counte- nancing wrong, and thus opposing and thwarting the highest and most substantial interests of society. Nor let it be said that such a supposition ought not to be made; that the thing supposed is impossible, or not likely to occur. Look around you. Do you not see such cases every day, and very many of them? Do you not see persons ~vho are (in their way) liberal arid kind, at the ex- pense ofjustice? persons of a facile, easy temper, and of a loose, reck- less generosity? You may call then-i good and benevolent, if you will, but it is to the entire disparagement and neglect of those sterner virtues which are so essential to the solid well being of society. And is not this, indeed, one of the tendencies of the present age? We think it is. We think that a weak, sickly, false philanthropy is, even now, and in many forms, coming into vogue, and that in some forms and some quarters it is gaining ground rapidly. Many persons, and of both sexes, are to be met with at the present day, who make a show at least, of battling right earnestly against the disorders and sufferings, which (it is acknowl- edged) are found amon.g men; and which (as these persons suppose) have their origin in a faulty, vicious organization of society; while, at the same time, these self-same re- formers, both male and female, are quite tolerant of mens vices; see little or no evil in sin as committed against God ; and are so very kind and merciful, that they are ready to faint at the thought of the spectacle formerly presented by the inside of a prison or a penitentiary, and are exceeding1 y horrified at the fact, that in this enlightened and humane nine- teenth century, culprits of any class and for any offences, however atro- cious, cold-blooded, and revolting, should be compelled to expiate their crimes under a gallows. We hear much of the sacredness and invi- olability of human life, and how dreadful a thing it is that courts of justice should have power, by a sol- emn judicial sentence, and under the forms of law grown venerable ~vith antiquity, to deprive even the very worst of human offenders of life, as an atonement for their guilt to an injured community; when, at the same time, those who are so nervously sensitive on the subject of the impropriety of taking human life by a sentence of law, and after a full and impartial trial of the of- fender has been had, and his guilt has been clearly established, feel no compunction or misgiving, at the wholesale destruction of human life which takes place on a field of bat- tle, and as the result of inspiring men with the spirit of xvar. Now it certainly looks suspicious, that the 1847.] The True Spirit of Devotion, 4.c. .49 very men wI)o are such sticklers for the inviolability of human life in the one case, are so entirely indifferent and satisfied, and even self-cornpla. cent, in view of the immeasurably greater sacrifice of human life in the other, especially when they have had a hand in accomplishing that destruction themselves. The evil of which we have been speaking, lies deeper than many supposeviews are taken, principles are advocated, which go to the setting aside of all punishment. The world is to be re- formed and made better by mere kindness and mercy. The old fash- ioned ideas of justice, arid right, and wrong, and law, and authority, and government, and obedience, and sub- mission, and punishment, and the like, are coming to be thought out of date and out of place, in these days, and an undue reliance is coming to be placed, for securing the good of mankind, upon views and theories of entirely another sort; and, to our apprehension of the matter, a great deal of vapid sentimentalism and tur- gid nonsensical declamation are ex- pended, over what is called the mal- organization of human society, and over the calamities and sufferings of mankind, which are supposed to re- sult from this single source, and over the brighter epoch that will dawn upon the world when this foun- tain of evil shall be dried up. Some- thing called (how intelligibly we do not say) a true social order, is henceforth to be the hope of the world. Labor and toil are by their own attractiveness, to lead men to be industrious and happy. And as to the present arrangeme ntof mankind into families, by express divine appointment, the decrees of the heart, are, by and by, to take the place of all other legislation on the subject. In other words, men are to be emancipated from the re- straints of law, all law human and divine. Inclination is to govern; and then, all will be right, and as it should be; and thus, a ne~v golden VOL. V 7 age will come upon the world. What folly! Alas for the world, if this is to be its last hope. Now, seriously, in all this, what right-minded man does not see, as plain as noonday, that the very root of the evils con- plained of is untouched and over- looked; that the philanthropy which is thus grandiloquently paraded be- fore us, is entirely misdirected; and that all the noise and the show of something new and more promising to the world, which these reformers are now making, will end in smoke? Man, in his apostasy from God, it must never be forgotten, is some. thing more than merely unhappy; something more than simply an ob- ject of pity; something other than barely a child of misfortune, yield- ing necessarily and against his will to the force of circumstances, the helpless victim of a delusion which he can not dispel from him. Man is a guilty being, propense to evil, and voluntarily yielding to that pro- pensity. He wanders from God and from duty, and he loves thus to wan- der. Witli the Bible in his hands, he knows or ought to know, where the true path of happiness lies. In all his wanderings, therefore, from the path of duty, and thus from the path of peace and happiness, into the thorny ways of sin and sorrow, he is to be looked upon with some other feelings than those of simple commiseration. Vice is a hateful thing; a justly punishable thing; and pity and kindness are not the only sentiments that we should feel to~vards it. What paret]t could make himself respected by his children, or could respect himself even, who should be only and always indulgent and kind to them and never punish- ed i/tern, no matter what their con- duct to him might be? What civil magistrate among men, could be justly entitled to a respectful defer- ence from the community over whom he was appointed to hold the reins of government, if in his public offi- cial character, he should overlook 50 The True Spirit of Devotion, 3pc. [Jan. the claims of justice, and should give up the reins of government into the hands of mere goodness and mercy, and shodid thus make the simple promptings of a kind good nature within him the rule and guide of his administration? Such a character in man we should all of us look upon as weak and childish, if not even con- temptil)le. How, then, can the self same character, in the Supreme Governor over all things, be regarded with veneration and reverence? No. We do not hcsitate to declare it as our firm conviction, that a God all goodness and mercy, such as some persons would make the Most High to be, would be wholly unworthy of the high and awful supremacy over all things which the true and living God possesses. Such a Supreme Being would be infinitely beneath our regard, only and infinitely con- temptible. Before such a being the true spirit of devotion would be im- possible. But there is still another view of the moral character of God. It is the evangelical Bible view. It com- bines and harmonizes both of the foregoing extremes. The attribute of justice and the attribute of mer- cy, it blends together, into one per- fect, and divinely beautiful charac- ter. It sets the Most 1-ugh before us as just, and at the same time as the justifier of him that believes in Jesus, a just God and a Savior. The purest, loftiest justice, it reconciles with boundless clemency and grace. In this view of the Divine Being, He is no longer simply just, or sim- ply merciful, no longer merely good and benevolent, or merely holy and righteous. He is both; both equally; both in the highest degree; both unalterably and forever; as such, we are to think of Him; as such, we are to approach him with our petitions for his favor; as such, we are to reverence and adore him; and it is this view of his character, this view and no other, which makes the true spirit of devotion so reason- able and so excellent a thing. It is this view of God, which lays a foun- dation, a right unalterable founda- tion, for the exercise of rational ex- alted worship before him, and which binds this duty upon us. It is a truth which all must admit, that a being of such a character is a prop- er object of religious worship, and that the obligation to pay him such worship grows out of the fact that such is his character. Prayer, therefore, in a true vie~v of the char- acter of God, is a natural dictate of our minds. Such a being should be enthroned in our souls, and ha- bitually acknowledged and sought unto in our prayers. And the best way of getting our minds impressed with this truth is, to accustom our- selves to take right views of Je- hovahs character, to think of him as he is both just and good, and to have the great idea of such a being always before us. To enable us to do this, we have his word and his works, placed under our eye, and reflecting his glory in cloudless beau- ty and splendor upon us. Such a view of God, habitually cherished, will dim the luster of worldly things and help us to resist the thousand seductive influences which sur- round us. Such a view of God will impart to the approaching so- lemnities and joys of a dying hour a new and deeper interest, and will invest the revealed doctrine of a fu- ture existence after death, with a greatly augmented power over us here. Nor is this all. Such a view of the glorious Creators moral char- acter will spread over the face of nature around us a new unwonted charm, and give a new and higher zest to all the safe and innocent en- joyments of this present life. It does this because it tends to cherish and uphold, among men, the right and true spirit of devotion. 3. As needful to the same end, we mention one thing more, a right view of the character and condition of man, as a fallen, sinful, ruined 1847.] The True Spirit of Devotion, 4-c. 51 being, needing a~ atonement for his sins, the renovating Spirit of God to recover him from his fallen state,and the mercy of God to forgive and save him. On these points the minds of many are covered with darkness, and endless misapprehen- sions are entertained. These mis- apprehensions are all, however, of one general kind, and may be sum- med up in one general description. They are founded in a denial of the true doctrine of human guilt and human depravity. They proceed from mistakes in regard to the na- ture, the demerit, the turpitude of sin, and the consequent ruin in which the sinner is involved by his sins. It is the fashion of the times, among large classes of men, to think lightly of sin ; to call it by gentle names; to attach to it the idea of misfortune ; to look upon its acknowledged existence as a sort of hitality; and to appeal, in its be- half, and with the view of creating sympathy for it, to mens sentiments or pity and compassion. As an il- lustration of our meaning, and the best that now occurs to us, there are exhibited, in the systems of prison discipline which are coming into use in this country, if we mistake not, sonfe indications of a false lea- ity towards crime and a false tender- ness towards those guilty of crime. We see it, sometimes, in courts of justice ; we see it, sometimes, in the jury box; we see it, sometimes, in the arguments of counsel for prisoners at the bar; we see it, sometimes, in the internal arrange- ments of prisons themselves design- ed wholly or chiefly for the com- fort and reformation of the prison- er, rather than for the specific ends of punishment and the prevention of crime hereafter; we see it in a vitiated pul)lic sentiment, respecting the real guilt and turpitude of crime itself, as an offence against Law and Right, against Authority and Government, against the Supreme Ruler and Lawgivcr. We see it in many other forms too, all of which we can not here particularize. We see it in ~certain religious creeds, and pulpits, and schools of theolo- gy It is the vital error of those ~vho deny the divinity of Christ and the doctrine of the atonement by his sufferings and death. It has much to do with the Universalists denial of endless punishments to the wicked. Claiming to be wiser than Solomon, it has crept into our sys- temns of family discipline and fain- ily government, and is supersed- ing by its proposed reforms the maxims which he taught. In all these modes we see one and the same spirit at work. One funda- mental error pervades them all. They begin in slight views of the evil of sinning against God. They make disobedience to established la~vs and govei-nment a matter of less importance than it is. Criminality, and obnoxiousness to punishment on account of it, are things too much forgotten and lost sight of Hence it is, that repentance, a true sorrow for sin, involving on the part of the sinner, both a hatred and a renunci- ation of his evil ways, is so rare a thing. Hence it is, that men are so little anxious as to what is to be- come of them hereafter. Hence it is, that the forgiving mercy of God is so little sought in prayer. And hence it is, that the plan of re- demption in the Gospel of Christ is so inadequately appreciated, and so generally and unthinkingly rejected, by the great body of mankind. Certain it is, that the true spirit of prayer must spring from a true sense of mens wants. Certain it is, that the habitual and humble and earnest spirit of supplication before God can proceed, only from a true sense of mens gi~ilt and lost condi- tion. The spirit of devotion, which proceeds from any other source than this, is sickly and false, and it will not long be kept up in any mind. It lacks the essential requisite to its being effective and lasting in its con- 52 The True Spirit of Devotion, 4-c. troT over mankind. The influence of the world will easily overcome it. The hour of temptation, in any form, will show how feeble and fluctuating it is. Not so, in the case of him, who has drank deep into the great Scripture doctrines of mans guilt, and depravity, and ruin by the fall. Not so with him, who feels that his forgiveness and salvation are de- pending on the free mercy of God, and that that mercy can be dispensed to him only on the ground of the atonement of Christ and as the con- sequence of his faith in him. How this truth humbles the pride of mans heart, and lays him in the dust be- fore God. And yet, at the same time, what light and comfort it pours into his soul, by leading him to look away from himself to the ref- uge appointed for him and to the hope set before him. He will pray, if any man will. In his heart the spirit of devotion will burn, and will burn steadily and strongly, if it will burn in any heart. And the whole life of such a man will be, virtually and in principle, one unceasing ex- ercise of prayer and thanksgiving to the God of his salvation: this will be his daily, habitual, loved em- ployment. If the foregoing things are duly considered, the inquiry before us, it is thought, will be sufficiently an- swercd for the purpose which we had in view in suggesting it. But we have not gone into this inquiry as a merely intellectual exercise, or with a view to resolve speculative doubts and difficulties. Our object is a higher one: it is to aid the hon- est inquirer after truth on a great practical question ; it is to help the humble; sincere disciple of Christ, who having engaged in the great Christian conflict, feels his own weakness, and desires to know how and whence he may get strength to go through the conflict, and attain at last the victory. If the eye of a sin- gle individual of this description shall fall upon these pages, let him re member it is for him that we write; we have known something of his dimculties, and we think also, (if we are not deceived,) that we have learned the best way of getting out of them. The following suggestions, de- signed to give to the above remarks a more practical aim and applica- tion in relation to the great ends and objects of human life, may not im- properly perhaps, be appended in the conclusion of our subject. 1. There is much occasion for cultivating the spirit of devotion, and for leading a life of prayer. He must kno~v but little of himself, and little of the world in which he dwells, and little of the futurity before him, who does not admit the justness of this remark. Every thing, almost, within and around us, invites us, yea urges us, to the exercise of prayer and to the maintaining of constant spiritual intercourse with our Maker. How unstiitable to forget Him, how ungrateful,how unreasonable. Even our physical wants, and the supplies for them which we unceasingly need, would be, of themselves, a sufficient reason why we should accustom our- selves to resort to the throne of grace and ask for the things which are needfbl for us. The Savior, in the days of his flesh, set us the ex- ample. He instructed us to offer the petition, Give us day by day our daily bread. It was to be a daily asking for daily supplies, even for our very bread, or the means of animal subsistence and comfort. But man doth not live by bread alone. Physical wants do not com- prise all our wants. We have many other wants besides, all of which, with united importunity, urge us to present our requests before God in prayer. And why should we not do this? What good reason exists for that coldness, that reluctance, that infrequency of communion with our Maker, in which we are so apt to indulge ourselves? When, espe- cially, we think of our higher wants, 1847.] The True Spirit of Devotion, 3pc. 53 ~s intelligent accountable creatures, how can we reconcile it to our sense of duty or of safety, to forego, as many do, all communion with God, in prayer and praise, in adoration and thanksgiving, in seeking His mercy, in deprecating His displeas- ure. What folly! what stupidity! 2. In those eases in which prayer is not wholly omitted, there is some- times an improper presumptuousness and fearlessness in the performance of this duty. The moral character of God, it must not be forgotten, cdmbines in it, as we have already seen, unspotted holiness, infinite rectitude. His justice is as real and as great as his mercy. And then also his natural perf~ctions, infinite power, infinite knowledge, and so on,what a foundation do these lay, in connection with his purity and holiness, for his being approached with the deepest reverence and filial fear and trembling. How unsuitable is that presumptuous confidence, that fearless unconcern, that want of deep seriousness and solemnity, with which some persons appear to rush into his presence. Let us, then, ever remember, that into the true spirit of devotion there enters, as one of its essential elements, a deep and solemn awe; a feeling as far removed as possible from levity or presumption. Let us remember that the whole spirit of true devo- tion, and in all its varied exercises, of adoration, supplication, praise and thanksgiving, involves in it the profoundest feelings of reverence and self-abasement, on the part of~ a frail, dependent, fallen, sinful crea- ture, (such as man is,) when at- tempting to hold communion with the great and adorable Creator. Dust and ashes taking upon itself to speak unto God. How just and right were the patriarchs sentiments upon this subject. But we see anoth- er spirit now at work among men. Other and different sentiments from those of the father of the faithful, are coming to be cherished, by many in these days. We are afraid of such sentiments. We deprecate their results as inauspicious to the best interests of society even in the present world. 3. The views which we have pre- sented, in this article, tend also, on the other hand, to shut out feelings of improper discouragement and faintness of heart, in our devotional exercises before God. They show us where all our hope and all our encouragement lie. In a true ap- prehension of our Makers charac- ter, we have seen benevolence and mercy combine with justice and ho- liness. And in a true apprehension of moral excellence itself, we have seen the same thing. Now this vie~v of our Maker encourages our ap- proaches to him in prayer, it shows us, not only that we may approach him, but that we may do it cheer- fully, joyfully, with glad hearts, in the exercise of a humble, but ani- mating, delightful confidence, that we are welcome to come to Him, with all our wants, and all our fears and sorrows. In and through Christ, we can see how the mercy of God, consistently with His justice, can be made to reach us, so as to meet our wants, dispel our fears, and heal our sorrows. There is a satisfaction, made to Divine Justice, for us. The sufferings and death of the Redeemer were a substitute forour punishment, sustaining the law and authority of God, and thus opening the way for our being pardoned and received anew into the favor of God. And, now, penitence and faith in Christ can save us. In other words, mer- cy, Gods everlasting mercy, in Christ, can reach us, and not a tittle of the honor of his law, or of the perfection of his justice and holi- ness, be surrendered. Nay, God can be made to appear, in all His attributes, in his ~vhole moral ex- cellence, more glorious than before. This is the beauty of the Gospel plan of Redemption. It, sets God before us in the true and real excel. 0 54 The True Spirit of Devotion, ~c. lence of His character, by recon- ciling together, in the most perfect manner, the different claims of jus- tice and of mercy. Now, therefore, while we fear, we may also hope; while we adore and tremble, we may love and confide; while we sink into the dust, we need not be dis- couraged, but may rather take en- couragement, and look up, and string our harps anew. And thus the very spirit of devotion, under the light which Christianity throws upon the character of God, is (in its true nature) a sweet, confiding, joy- ful spirit; it is such preeminently; ever humble and self renouncing, but ever sustained, soothed and en- cournged by an adequate, all-suffi- cient ground of hope towards God it is, it must be, a cheerful spirit. It has nothing of the discourage- ment, and pain, and dread of super- stition, in it. It is not the spirit of the slave ; it is rather the little child, in the true filial spirit, approaching the Great Father above ; trembling yet trusting; fearing yet hoping; sorry for its offenses, but knowing that they can be forgiven; distrust- ing and discarding all righteousness of its own, but resting upon the merits and mediation of Christ, and thus being prepared to breathe forth its desires before God, in the true spirit of adoption, saying unto Him, Abba, Father~ 3. The true spirit of devotion in mankind, we may therefore add, is adapted to promote happiness among men. The great end of all duty, we conceive, is happiness. rphis, at least, is one of its ends. To this it tends. This is its legitimate re- suIt. So in religion, a true know- ledge of God, accompanied with the right and proper exercises of heart towards Him, contributes to human happiness. This, at least, is its ten- dency. There may be other causes in operation, impeding and obstruct- ing the taking place of this result. But the tendency of true piety in the soul of man, is evermore, and in all its fruits and exercises, to peace and happiness. It is so in families, in neighborhoods, and in larger communities. The principle is the same everywhere, wherever it is f6und. A right recognition of God and of his claims is, indeed, the grand secret of true happiness. Mans restless, roving, aching heart finds its true rest nowhere else, but in such a recognition of God and His claims. And every plan de- vised for the good of mankind, which keeps this great fact out of view, will be found delusive. The world will never be made essentially happier than it now is, without the Gospel, and without the religion of the Gospel. Other schemes have been tried, and other schemes will yet be tried. They will end, how- ever, all of them alike, in disap- pointment, if their abettors have really any confidence in them them- selves, as fitted to subserve the end for which they are professedly brought forward. Our own belief is, that those who bring them for- ward, have, for the most part, as little confidence in them, for the end here referred to, as we have our- selves. Their real motives, and their professions, in this matter, are often two very different things. There is a hollowness and insincer- ity in their plans, fitted and intended to dupe the unwary. Arid their own hearts tell them, in their honest hours, that they are in their schemes of human happiness, belying a fun- damental truth in the nature of things, and misleading and ensnar- ing the souls of men. The true felicity of men (they must know) consists in the love and practice of universal virtue; and of this univer- sal virtue, religion (or the worship and service of God) forms an essen- tial part. Prayer, then, is vital, in the very nature of things, to mans well being; and he is an enemy to his fellow men, who for the sake of carrying any plan of his own, would lead them into error and delusion on 1847.] The True Spirit of Devotion, 4c. 55 this momentous subject. We call upon the young especially, to mark such men and shun them. They mean no good to you; or if they do, their schemes will never accom- plish it. 4. Rightly understood, what a high and blessed privilege is it to live in the exercise of a true devo- tional spirit before God. The thought is a trite one: the princi. pIe, here brought into view, will never lose its importance. We, of this age and nation, talk much of our birthrights and privileges. We set them ata high value. We make our boast of them. And they are great and were dearly purchased. Civil and religious freedom; a gov- ernment of law; the rights of the family; the right to acquire and hold property, not in common stock, not subject to a Lex Agraria; not at the mercy of a mob ; the right to possess, read and interpret our Bi. bles; in fine, all the rights and priv- ileges of American citizenship. If the old Roman might pride himself on his birthrights and privileges, may not we much more? And this we are sufficiently ready to do, per- haps. But what birthright or privi. lege will compare with that which (through the grace of God) the Christian possesses, in the liberty given him of repairing to the mercy seat of his Maker in prayer? This too is a privilege free for all. The poorest and the most wretched an~ong men are welcome to it. And, as it is open to all and free for all, so it is adapted to the circum- stances and wants of all. It was meant for the good of all. Who would willingly forego it, and throw away its priceless blessings? It is the highest privilege on earth. Its exercise conduces to peace and hap- piness here. The praying man, amidst the temptations of life, has a guarantee of safety which no other man has a right to apply to himself; amidst the disquietudes of lire, he has a guarantee of peace and tran- quillity of mind, which no other man possesses; amidst the trials and sor- rows of life, he has a promise of sul)port and consolation, to which no other man can lay claim ; in sick- ness, in old age, in the hour of dis- solution itself; he has a refuge to flee to, which is all his own. And then, in looking forward to the fu- ture after death, the praying man has prospects before him, which might well reconcile him to some infelicities and trials by the way. There is, in the very spirit of devo- tion itself, habitually and watchfully maintained and cherished here on earth, an earnest of the final inher- itance in heaven, after which it here breathes its desires, and for which it is here the incipient preparation. It is the upward tendency, the plu- ming of its wings, its first young flights, towards the broad sunny heavens, where at length, it will expatiate at large, as in its own proper sphere, beyond the clouds and storms of life. Shall we not seek, then,~ to cultivate more assid- uously the true spirit of devotion, and endeavor to have it always ac- tive and alive within us? S. W.A. 56 Nathaniel Hawthorne. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.* THE works of Nathaniel Haw- thorne place him, in our judgment, in the first rank of American au- thors, in the department of imagin- ative literature. A curiosity to know something of the history of those who instruct or interest us, and honor our country, by their writings, is quite natural- Our readers, doubtless, would be gratified to know more of Mr. Ha~v- thornes history than we are able to give: for our knowledge of it is very limited. He is, as we are in- formed, a native of Salem, Massa- chusetts, a graduate of Bowdoin College, and about forty years of age. Instead of entering on the active duties of either of the learn- ed professions to which a liberal ed- ucation is usually preparatory, he has led a singularly quiet and reti- red life, partly at Salem, and part- ly at Boston as an officer in the custom house, partly at Concord in the old mansion of the late venera- ble Dr. Ripley, whence the title of his last volumes, Mosses from an old Manse, and now, by the ap- pointment of the present adminis- tration of our national government, of which he is a noiseless support- er, he is an officer of the customs in the port of his native town. 1-us residence at Concord was, perhaps, either cause or effect of his sympathy with the amiable and highly cultivated, but misty and gro- ping, philanthropists of the Con- cord sect and the Roxbury Pha- lanx. This sympathy, we regret to see and to say, appears, here and there, in his last volumes. It seems however, to be more a sympathy of * Twice Told Tales; by Nathaniel Hawthorne, Vol. I and II. Boston, James Monroe & Co., 1842. Mosses from an Old Manse, in two p arts; by Nathaniel Hawthorne. New York, Wiley & Putnam, 1846. heart and sentiment, than of intel- lect and conviction. For his native good sense evidently distrusts, and declines to adopt, their loose doc- trines, and their unsubstantial plans and theories. The volumes before us are four: two entitled Twice Told Tales, first and second series, of about 350 pa- ges each, published in 1842; and two entitled Mosses from an Old Manse, part first and second, of about 210 pages each, published in 1846. They consist of various Tales, Essays, Allegories, and Pie- ceswe know of no term more spe- cific which will answer our purpose~ Mr. 1-Iawthornes style of writing greatly pleases us. While it is lively, graphic, and picturesque, and occasionally forcible, it is very natural and quiet. There is no- thing strained, and no painfully manifest aim and effort to be brill- iant and effective. We have be- come so wearied with these faults in modern writers, that it is really re- freshing to read one who writes un- ambitiously, and without this appa- rent laborone who tells us his thoughts and emotions, without a manifest consciousness of himself, and naturally, like the outbreak- ing of a fountain from the earth. Much of the writing of these times aims to be piquant, striking and astonishing, such as will arrest men amid the characteristic haste and bustle of the times. And this ambitious aim to be pointed is too apparent. If there must be so much labor and art in writing, there should be also the summa ars, ar/em celare. We are made to see, not so much the subject as the author. Our impression is not, here is an author who has something to say, and who says it, but here is an author who is ambitious to say something very rhe- torically and impressively, and who

56 Nathaniel Hawthorne. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.* THE works of Nathaniel Haw- thorne place him, in our judgment, in the first rank of American au- thors, in the department of imagin- ative literature. A curiosity to know something of the history of those who instruct or interest us, and honor our country, by their writings, is quite natural- Our readers, doubtless, would be gratified to know more of Mr. Ha~v- thornes history than we are able to give: for our knowledge of it is very limited. He is, as we are in- formed, a native of Salem, Massa- chusetts, a graduate of Bowdoin College, and about forty years of age. Instead of entering on the active duties of either of the learn- ed professions to which a liberal ed- ucation is usually preparatory, he has led a singularly quiet and reti- red life, partly at Salem, and part- ly at Boston as an officer in the custom house, partly at Concord in the old mansion of the late venera- ble Dr. Ripley, whence the title of his last volumes, Mosses from an old Manse, and now, by the ap- pointment of the present adminis- tration of our national government, of which he is a noiseless support- er, he is an officer of the customs in the port of his native town. 1-us residence at Concord was, perhaps, either cause or effect of his sympathy with the amiable and highly cultivated, but misty and gro- ping, philanthropists of the Con- cord sect and the Roxbury Pha- lanx. This sympathy, we regret to see and to say, appears, here and there, in his last volumes. It seems however, to be more a sympathy of * Twice Told Tales; by Nathaniel Hawthorne, Vol. I and II. Boston, James Monroe & Co., 1842. Mosses from an Old Manse, in two p arts; by Nathaniel Hawthorne. New York, Wiley & Putnam, 1846. heart and sentiment, than of intel- lect and conviction. For his native good sense evidently distrusts, and declines to adopt, their loose doc- trines, and their unsubstantial plans and theories. The volumes before us are four: two entitled Twice Told Tales, first and second series, of about 350 pa- ges each, published in 1842; and two entitled Mosses from an Old Manse, part first and second, of about 210 pages each, published in 1846. They consist of various Tales, Essays, Allegories, and Pie- ceswe know of no term more spe- cific which will answer our purpose~ Mr. 1-Iawthornes style of writing greatly pleases us. While it is lively, graphic, and picturesque, and occasionally forcible, it is very natural and quiet. There is no- thing strained, and no painfully manifest aim and effort to be brill- iant and effective. We have be- come so wearied with these faults in modern writers, that it is really re- freshing to read one who writes un- ambitiously, and without this appa- rent laborone who tells us his thoughts and emotions, without a manifest consciousness of himself, and naturally, like the outbreak- ing of a fountain from the earth. Much of the writing of these times aims to be piquant, striking and astonishing, such as will arrest men amid the characteristic haste and bustle of the times. And this ambitious aim to be pointed is too apparent. If there must be so much labor and art in writing, there should be also the summa ars, ar/em celare. We are made to see, not so much the subject as the author. Our impression is not, here is an author who has something to say, and who says it, but here is an author who is ambitious to say something very rhe- torically and impressively, and who 1847.] Nathaniel Hawthorne. 57 thinks less of his subject than of himself as seen through his subject. We feel, when reading such an au- thor, as we do, when hearing a choir who sing ambitiouslywhose selection of tunes and style of sing- ing are plainly more for self-exhibi- tion than for music; or as we do, when conversing with a person, whose object seems to be, not so much to entertain us, or to be enter- tained by us, as to impress us with an admiring sense of his conversa- tional powers; or as we do, when talking with a person, who seems to be chiefly attentive to his face and figure in a mirror which happens to be opposite to him. There is none of this diseased self-consciousness and this labo- rious self-display in Hawthornes writing. His pleasant, truthful and earnest thoughts come forth noise- lessly, and pass quiefly on, as the clear water rises from the well- spring, and flows on in a gentle stream. His style is the simple clothing of his thought. There is nothing to draw our attention to it as styleto make us think of it, rather than of the thought which it communicates. It well illustrates Dr. Emmons remark, Style is on- ly the frame to hold our thoughts. it is like the sash of a window; a heavy sash will obscure the light. The object is to have as little sash as will hold the lights, that we may not think of the frame, but have the most light. Mr. Hawthornes style reminds us of Addisons, and of Charles Lambs, and also of Scotts: though his simplicity is not so ma- jestic and rich as Scotts, whose narration seems to us unequalled. Mr. Hawthorne is a very minute observer. his eye seems to take in, at once, the whole, and each of the parts; and his narratives and pictures have often a particularity, which gives them a charming com- pleteness and individualityreveal- lug minute traits, which we imme- diately and pleasantly recognize, but VOL. V. S should not ourselves have thought of recording. He shows, in his descriptions of natural scenery, the quick and accurate and comprehen- sive eye of the true painter. And, then, mingled with his narrative or description, there is a kind of think- ing aloud, or talking to himself, very truthful and pleasanta sort of practical commentary on nature. We will give an illustration. Take this from his Buds and Bird-Voices. The trees, in our orchard and else- where, are as yet naked, but already ap- pear full of tife and vegetable blood. It seems as if, by one magic. touch, they mighL instantaneousty burst into full fol- iage, and that the wind, which now sighs through their naked branches, might make sudden music amid innumerable leaves. The moss-grown willow-tree, which for forty years past has over-shad- owed these western windows, will be among the first to put on its green attire. There are some objections to the willow; it is not a dry and cleanly tree, and im- presses the beholder with an association of sliminess. No trees, 1 think, are per- fectly agreeable as companions, unless they have glossy leaves, dry bark, and a firm and hard texture of trunk and branch. Cs. But the willow is almost the earliest to gladden us with the promise and reality of beauty, in its graceful and delicate fol- iage, an(l the last to scatter its yellow yet scarcely withered leaves upon the ground. All through the winter, too, its yellow twigs give it a sunny aspect, which is not without a cheering influence, even in the grayest and gloomiest day. Beneath, a clouded sky, it faithfully remembers the sunshine. Our old house would lose a charm, were the willow to be cut down with its golden crown over the snow-cov- ered roof, and its heap of summer ver- dure. The lilac-shrubs, under my study-win- dows, are likewise almost in leaf; in two or three days more, 1 may put fbrth my hand, and pluck the topmost bough in its freshest green. These lilacs are very aged, and have lost the luxuriant foliage of their prime. The heart, or the judg- ment, or the moral sense, or the taste, is dissatisfied with their present aspect. Old age is not venerable, when it em- bodies itself in lilacs, rose-bushes, or any other ornamental shrubs; it seems as such plants, as they grow only for beauty, ought to flourish only in immortal youth, or, at least, to die before their sad decrep- itude. frees of beauty are trees of Par- adise, and therefore not subject to decay, by their original nature, though they have Nathaniel Hawthorne. lost that precious birth-right by being transplanted to an earthly soil. There is a kind of ludicrous unfitness in the idea of a time-stricken and grandfatherly lilac- bush. The analogy holds good in human life. Persons who can only be graceful and ornamentalwho can give the world nothing but flowersshould die young, and never be seen with gray hairs and wrinkles, any more than the flower-shrubs with mossy hark and blighted foliage, like the lilacs under my window. Not that beauty is worthy of less than immortality no, the beautiful should live for ever and thence, perhaps, the sense of impro- priety, when we see it triumphed over by time. Apple-trees, on the other hand, grow old without reproach. Let them live as long as they may, and contort themselves into whatever perversity of shape they please, and deck their with- ered limbs with a spring-time gaudiness of pink-blossoms, still thcy are respecta- ble, even if they afford us only an apple or two in a season. Those few apples or, at all events, the remembrance of ap- ples in by-gone yearsare the atonement which utilitarianism inexorably demands, for the privilege of lengthened life. Hu- man flower-shrubs, if they will grow old on earth, should, beside their lovely blos- soms, bear some kind of fruit that will satisfy earthly appetites; else neither man, nor the decorum of nature, will deem it fit that the moss should gather on them.Mosses from an old Manse. pp. 139, 40. Among the delights of spring, how is it possible to forget the birds! Even the crows were welcome, as the sable har- bingers of a brighter and livelier race. They visited us before the snow was off, but seem mostly to have betaken them- selves to remote depths of the woods, which they haunt all summer long. Many a time shall I disturb them there, and feel as if I had intruded among a company of silent worshipers, as they sit in sabbath-stillness among the tree- tops. Their voices, when they speak, are in admirable accordance with tIme tranquil solitude of a summer afternoon; and, resounding so far above the head, their loud clamor increases the religions quiet of the scene, instead of breaking it. A crow, however, has no real pretensions to religion, in spite of his gravity of mien and black attire; he is certainly a thief, and probably an infidel. The gulls are far more respectable, in a moral point of view. These denizens of sea-beaten rocks, and haunters of the lonely beach, come up our inland river, at this season, and soar high overhead, flapping their broad wings in the upper sunshine. They are among the most pictoresque of birds, because they so float and rest upon the air, as to become almost stationary p arts of the landscape- The imagination has time to grow acquainted with them; they have not flitted away in a moment. You go up among the clouds, and greet these lofly-fli ghted gulls, and repose con- fidently ivith them upon the sustaining atmosphere. Ducks h ave their haunts along the solitary places of the river, and alight in flocks upon the broad bosom of the overflowed meadows. Their flight is too rapid and determined for the eye to catch enjoyment from it, although it never fails to stir up the heart with the sportsmans ineradicable instinct. They have now gone further northward, but will visit us again in autumn. The smaller birdsthe little songsters of the woods, and those that haunt mans d~vellings, and claim human friendship by building their nests under the shelter- ing eaves, or among the orchard trees these require a touch more delicate, and a gentler hen rt than mine, to do them jus- tice. Their outburst of melody is like a brook let loose from wintry chains. We need not deem it a too high and solemn word, to call it a hymn of praise to the Creator; since Nature, who pictures the reviving year in so many sights of beauty, has expressed the sentiment of renewed life in no other sound, save the notes of these blessed birds. Their music, how- ever, just now, seems to be incidental, and not the result of a set purpose. They are discussing the economy of life and love, and the site and architecture of their summer residences, and have no time to sit on a twig, and pour forth solemn hymns, or overtures, operas, symphonies, and waltzes. Anxious questions are asked; grave subjects are settled in quick and animated debate; and only by occa- sional accident, as from pure ecstasy, does a rich warble roll its tiny waves of golden sound through the atmosphere. Their little bodies are as bm]sy as their voices; they are in a constant flutter and restlessness. Even when two or three retreat to a tree-top, to hold council, they wag their tails and heads all the time, with the irrepressible activity of their nature, which perhaps renders their brief span of life in reality as long as the pa- triarcimal age of sluggish man. The black- birds, three species of which consort to- gether, are the noisiest of all our feath- ered citizens. Great companies of them more than the famous four and twen- ty whom Mother Goose has immortal- izedcongregate in continuous tree-tops, and vociferate with all the clamor and confusion of a turbulent political meet- ing. Politics, certainly, must be the oc- casion (f such tumultuous debates; but stillunlike all other politiciansthey instil melody into their individual utter- ances, and produce harmony as a general effect. Of all bird-voices, none are more 58 [Jan. Nathaniel Hawthorne. sweet and cheerful to my ear than those of swallows, in the dim, sun-streaked in- terior of a lofty barn; they address the heart with even a closer sympathy than Robin Red-breast. But, indeed, all these winged people, that dwell in the vicinity of homesteads, seem to partake of human nature, and possess the germ, if not the development, of immortal souls. We hear them saying their melodious prayers, at mornings blush and eventide. A little while ago, in the deep of night, there caine the lively thrill of a birds note from a neighboring tree; a real song, such as greets the purple dawn, or mingles with the yellow sunshine. What could the little bird mean, by pouring it forth at midnight? Probably thc music gushed out of the midst of a dream, in which he fancied himself in Paradise with his mate, but suddenly awoke on a cold, leafless bough, with a New England mist penetrating through his feathers. That was a sad exchange of imagination for reality Ibid. pp. 142, 3, 4. Thank Providence for Spring! The earthand man himself, by sympathy with his birth-placewould be far other than we find them, if life toiled wearily onward, without this periodical infusion of the primal spirit. Will the world ever be so decayed, that spring may not renew its greenness? Can man be so dismally age-stricken, that no faintest sunshine of his youth may revisit him once a year? It is impossible. The moss on our time- worn mansion brightens into beauty; the good old pastor, who once dwelt here, re- newed his prime, regained his boyhood, in the genial breezes of his ninetieth spring. Alas for the worn and heavy soul, if, whether in youth or age, it have outlived its privilege of spring-time sprightliness! From such a soul, the world must hope no reformation of its evilno sympathy with the lofty faith and gallant struggles of those who con- tend in its behalf. Summer works in the present, and thinks not of the future; Autumn is a rich conservative; Winter has utterly lost its faith, and clings trem- ulously to the remembrance of what has been ; but Spring, with its outgushing life, is the true type of the Movement Ibid. p. 146. We will take another illustration from his Snow.Flakes, a picture of very different scenery. There is snow in yonder cold gray sky of the morning !and through the par- tially frosted window-panes, I love to watch the gradual beginning of the storm. A few feathery flakes are scattered widely through the air, and hover downward with uncertain flight, now almost alight- ing on the earth, now ~vhirled again aloft into remote regions of the atmosphere. These are not the big flakes, heavy with moisture, which melt as they touch the ground, and are portentous of a soaking rain. It is to be, in good earnest, a win- try storm. The t~vo or three people, vis- ible on the side-walks, have an aspect of endurance, a blue-nosed, frosty fortitude, which is evidently assumed in anticipa- tion of a coiimfortlsss and blustering day. By nightfall, or at least before the sun sheds another glimmering smile u pon us, the street and our little garden will be heaped with mountain snow-drifis. The soil, already frozen for weeks past, is pre- pared to sustain whatever burthen may be laid upon it; and, toa northern eye, the landscape will lose its melancholy bleakness arid acquire a beauty of its own, when Mother Earth, like her children, shall have put on the fleecy garb of her winters wear. The cloud-spirits are slowly weaving her white mantle. As yet, indeed, there is barely a rime like hoar frost over the brown surface of the street ; the withered green of the grass~ plat is still discernible; and the slated roofs of the houses do but begin to look gray, instead of black. All the snow that has yet fallen within the circunifer- ence of ray view, were it heaped up to- gether, would hardly equal the hillock of a grave. Thus gradually, by silent and stealthy influences, are great changes wrought. These little snow-particles, which the storm-spirit flings by handfulls through the air, will bury the great earth under their accumulated mass, nor permit her to behold liar sister sky again for dreary months. We, likewise, shall lose sight of our mothers familiar visage, and must content ourselves with looking heavenward the oftener. Now, leaving the storm to do his ap- pointed office, let us sit down, pen in hand, by our firesideTwice Told Tales. 2d series. pp. 153, 4. Now look we forth again, and see how much of his task the storm-spirit has done. Slow and sure! He has theday, per- chance the week, before him, and may take his own time to accomrlish Naturea burial in snow. A smooth mantle is scarcely yet thrown over the withered grass.plat, and the dry stalks of annuals still thrust themselves through the white surface in all parts of the garden. rIme leafless rose bushes stand shivering in a shallow snow drift, looking, poor things! as disconsolate as if they possessed a hu- man consciousness of the dreary scene. This is a sad time for the shrubs that do not perish with the summer; they neither live nor die; what they retain of life seems but the chilling sense of death. Very sad are the flower-shrubs in mid- winter! The roofs of the houses are 1847.] 59 60 Nathaniel Hawthorne. [Jan. now all white, save where tile eddying wind has kept them bare at the bleak corners. To discern the real intensity of the storm, we must fix upon some distant ol~ject,as yonder spire,and obscrve how the riotous gust fights with the de- scending snow through the intervening space. Sometimes the entire prospect is obscured; then. again, we have a distinct, but transient glimpse of the tall steeple, like a giants ghost; and now the dense wreaths sweep between, as if demons were flinging snow-drifts at each other, in mid-air. Look next into the street, where we have an amusing parallel to the combat of those fancied demons in the upper regions. It is a snow-battle of school-boys. What a pretty satire on war and military glory might be written, in the form of a childs story, by describ- ing the snow-ball fights of two ri~al schools, the alternate defeats and victories of each, and the final triumph of one party, or perhaps of neither! What pitched battles, ~vorthy to be chanted in 1-I omneric strains! What storming of for- tresses, built all of massive snow-blocks! What feats of individual prowess, and embodied onsets of martial enthusiasm! And when some well contested and de- cisive victory had put a period to the war, boh armies should unite to build a lofty monument of snow upon the battle-field, and crown it with the victors statue, hewn of the same frozen marble. In a few days or weeks thereafter, the passer- by would observe a shapeless mound upon the level common; and, unmindful of the famous victory, would ask How came it there? Who reared it? And what means it ~ The shattered pedestal of many a battle-monument has provoked these questions, when none could answer. Turn we ag~in to the fireside, and sit musing there, lending our ears to the wind, till perhaps it shall seem like an articulate voice, and dictate wild and airy matter for the penIbid. pp. 155, 6, 7. Such fantasies, intermixed among graver toils of mind, have made the winters day pass pleasantly. Meanwhile, the storm has raged without abatement, and now, as the brief afternoon declines, is tossing denser vulumes to and fro about the atmosphere. On the window-sill, there is a layer of snow, reaching half way up the lowest pane of glass. The garden is one unbroken bed. Along tIme street are two or three spots of uncovered earth, wlmere the gust has whirled away the snow, heaping it elsewhere to the fence-tops, or piling huge banks against the doors of houses. A solitary passen- ger is seen, now striding mid-leg deep across a drift, now scudding over the bare ground, while his cloak is swollen with the wind. And now the jingling of bells, a sluggish sound, responsive to the horses toilsome progress through the an- broken drifts, announces the passage of a sleigh, with a boy clinging behind, and ducking his head to escape detection by the driver. Next comes a sledge, laden with wood for some unthrifty housekeep- er, whom winter has surprised at a cold hearth. But wlmat dismal equipage now struggles along the uneven street? A sable hearse, bestrewn with snow, is bearing a dead man through the storm to his frozen bed. Oh, how dreary is a burial in winter, when the bosom of Mother Earth has no warmth for her poor child! Eveningthe early eve of December-~--- begins to spread its deepening veil over the comfortless scene; the fire-light gradually brightens, and throws tnv flick- ering shadow upon the walls and ceiling of the eltamber; but still the storm rages and rattles against the windows. Alas! I shiver, and think it time to be discon- solate. But, taking a farewell glance at dead nature in her shroud, I perceive a flock of snow-birds, skimming lightsomnely thromtgh the tempest, and flitting from drift to drift, as sportively as swallows in the delightful prime of summer. Whence come they? Where do they build their nests, and seek their food? ~V by, having airy wings, do they not follow summer around the earth, instead of making themselves the playmates of the storm, and fluttering on the dreary verge of the winters eve? I know not whence they come, nor why; yet my spirit has been cheered by that wandering flock of snow- birdsIbid. pp. 159, 60. The same minuteness and accu- racy of observation, and picturesque expression are seen in Mr. H.s rep- resentations of the scenery of hu- man life and character. Lie sees deeply into the interior of human character. He observes particular- ly and exactly its outward manifes- tations. And he sketches many varieties of it, in his usual easy and quiet style, but with great liveliness, and, indeed, dramatic skill and power. His personages are not all the same, with different names and in different circumstances, but they preserve their individuality, and so stand out upon the canvass that we immedialely recognize them. He is fond of seeing a great variety of characters. He frequently takes a position, whence he can see, at a glance, or in quick succession, a great many persons; as they actual- I$47j Nathaniel Ilawthorne. 61 ly appear. As, for instance, in his Sights from a Steeple, whence~ he can see, not only the clouds, which he makes as full of varied life as the earth below, and, in the distance, on the one side, the culti- vated fields, villages, white country seats, the waving lines of rivulets, little placid lakes, and the knolls and hills, and, on the other side, the sea stretching away to a viewless distance, and the broad harbor on which is the townbut can also see the varied persons that appear to the eye and to the pocket spy-glass here a fine young man of twenty, with a pensive air, either in doubt, or in debt, or in lovethere, in another but not distant street, com- ing from an aristocratic looking edi- fice, two ladies, swinging their par- asols arid lightly arrayed for a sum- mer ramble, both young and both pretty, whom, ere long, the afore- said pensive youth happens to meet, and turns, after a recognition and a little shyness, to walk with them there, upon the wharf amid the bus- tle of business, the wealthy mer- chant, watching the unlading of his ships, the clerks, diligent with their paper and pencils, the sailors, ply- ing the block and tackle, and ac- companying their toil with cries long drawn and roughly melodious, while, at a little distance, a group of grave seniors are gathered round the door of a warehouse, thinking of their distant ships and rich freightshere, in two streets con- verging at right angles, appear three different processions; one a proud array of voluntary soldiers, in bright uniform and with stirring martial music; another, close to the rear of the first, a battalion of school-boys, ranged in crooked and irregular platoons, shouldering sticks, and thumping a harsh and unripe clatter from an instrument of tin, and ri- diculously aping the intricate ma- nnuvres of the foremost band; and the third, a funeral procession, which, as soon as seen, hushes the music of the soldiers and the mirth- ful clamor of the boys. Or, as in his Toll-Gatherers Day, he takes his position at a toll-gate, on a fre- quently traveled road, and there ob- serves all who pass from morning till night, reading their minds and hearts and condition, in their faces and general appearance and few pass- ing words. Or, as in his Chippings with a Chisel, he spends day after day in the workshop of a carver of tomb-stones, noting and reading the various persons who come to em- ploy him. He is especially fond of bringing out the inward character. He loves to paint what he or some one else has called the moral pic- turesque, and makes his accurate and lively description of the out- ward but the medium of vision into the inward. Mr. Hawthorne has a very pleas- ant and good natured, yet success- ful and effective way of hitting off, or satirizing the faults and foibles and errors of individuals and cliques, of schools, and communities, and ages. And, while he looks with a kindly eye on human nature, and appreciates all its good qualities, he seems to be aware of its dark depths and its universal fountain of corrup- tion. As illustrations of this trait, we would refer to The New Adam and Eve, The Intelligence Office, P. 5. Correspondence, The Hall of Fantasy, The Procession of Life, Chippings with a Chisel, Peter Gold- thwaites Treasure, The Artist of the Beautifulindeed we might go through the whole catalogue. But that which, in this respect, surpasses all his other writings, and we were about to say the writings of all but John Bunyan, is The Celestial Railroad : which in respect to ease and rapidity, bears a relation to the road of John Bunyans Pil- grim, like to that which a modern railroad bears to an old fashioned turnpike or county roada pleasant but keen and truthful satire on mod- ern easy modes of getting to hea Nathaniel Hawthorne. yen. We can not refrain from the endeavor to give our readers some idea of this work. Not a great while ago, passing through the gate of dreams, I visited that region of the earth in which lies the famous city of Destruction. It interested me much to learn that, by the public spirit of some of the inhabitants, a railroad has recently been established between this populous and flourishing town, and the Celestial City. Having a little time upon my hands, I resolved to gratify a liberal cu- riosity to make a trip thither. Accord. ingly, one fine morning, after paying my bill at the hotel, and directing the porter to stow my luggage behind a coach, I took my seat in the vehicle and set out for the Station-house. It was my good fortune to enjoy the company of a gen- tlemanone Mr. Smooth-it-awaywho, though he had never actually visited the Celestial City, yet seemed as well ac- quainted with its laws, customs, policy, arid statistics, as with those of the city of Destruction, of which he was a native townsman. Being, moreover, a director of the railroad corporation, and one of its largest stockholders, he had it in his power to give me all desirable informa- tion respecting tbat praiseworthy enter- prise. Our coach rattled out of the city, and, at a short distance from its outskirts, passed over a bridge, of elegant construc- tion, but somewhat too slight, as I im- agined,to sustain any considerable weight. On both sides lay an extensive quagmire, which could not have been more disagree- able, either to sight or smell, had all the kennels of the earth emptied their pollu- tion there. This, remarked Mr. Smooth-it-a- way, is the famous Slough of Despond a disgrace to all the neighborhood; and the greater, that it might so easily be converted into firm ground. I have understood, said I, that ef- forts have been made for that purpose, from time immemorial. Bunyan men- tions that above twenty thousand cart- loads of wholesome instructions had been thrown in here, without effect. Very probably !and what effect could be anticipated from such unsubstan- tial stuff? cried Mr. Smooth-it-away. You observe this convenient bridge. We obtained a sufficient foundation for it by throwing into the Slouuh some edi- a tions of books of morality, volumes of French philosophy and German rational- ism, tracts, sermons, and essays of mod- ern clergymen, extracts from Plato, Con- fucius, and various Hindoo sages, tr)gether with a few ingenious comm entaries upoa texts of Scriptureall of which, by some scientific process, have been converted into a mass like granite. The whole bog might befilled up with similar matter. It really seemed to me, however, that the bridge vibrated and heaved up end down in a very formidable manner; and, spite of Mr. Smooth-it-aways testimony to the solidity of its foundation, I should be loth to cross it in a crowded omnibus; especially, if each passenger were encum- bered with as heavy luggage as that gen- tleman and myself. Nevertheless, we got over without accident, and soon found ourselves at the Station.house..~fosses from an Old Manse. pp. 173, 4. This station house was erected on the site of the little wicket gate, of which John Bunyan speaks, and at the ticket office presides Christians old friend Evangelist, who, in the former days, used to supply each pilgrim with a mystic roll. Our au- thor says, however, that some mali- cious persons deny the identity of the two personages, and pretend to bring proof of an imposture. A large number of passengers were al- ready at the Station-house, awaiting the departure of the cars. By the aspect and demeanor of these persons, it was easy to judge that the feelings of the commu- nity had undergone a very favorable change, in reference to the celestial pil- Grimace. It would have done Bunyans eart good to see it. Instead of a lonely and ragged man, with a huge burthen on his back, plodding along sorrowfully on foot, while the whole city hooted after him, here were parties of the first gentry and niost respectable people in the neigh- borhood, setting forth towards the Celes- tial City, as cheerfully as if the pilgrim- age was merely a summer tour. Among the gentlemen were characters of deserv- ed eminence, magistrates, politicians and men of wealth, by whose example reli- gion could not but be greatly recommend- ed to their meaner brethren. In the la- dies apartment, too, I rejoiced to distin- guisli some of those flowers of fashion- able society, who are so well fitted to adorn the most elevated circles of the Ce- lestial City. There was much pleasant con- versation about the news of the day, topics of business, politics, or the lighter matters of amusement; while religian, though indubitably the main thing at heart, was thrown tastefully into the back-ground. Even an infidel would have heard little or nothing to shock his sensibility. One great convenience of the new method of going on pilgrimage, I must not forget to mention. Onir enormous burthens, instead of heing carried on our 62 [Jan. Nathaniel Hawthorne. shoulders, as had been the custom of old, were all snugly deposited in the baggage car, and, as I was assured, would be de- livered to their respective owners at the journeys end.Ibid. pp. 175,6. After giving an account of a pa- cific arrangement of the ancient feud between Prince Beelzebub and the keeper of the wicket gate, on the principle of mutual compro- mise, our traveler proceeds in his narrative thus Where is Mr. Great-heart ? inquired I. Beyond a doubt, the Directors have engaged that famous old champion to be chief conductor on the railroad ? Why, no, saiA Mr. Smooth-it-away, with a dry cough. He was offered the situation of brakeman; hut, to tell you the truth, our friend Great-heart has grown preposterously stiff and narrow in his old age. He has so often guided pil- grims over the road, on foot, that he con- siders it a sin to travel in any other fash- ion. Besides, the old fellov~ had entered so heartily into the ancient feud with Prince Beelzebub, that he would have been perpetually at blows or ill language with some of the Princes subjects, and thus have embroiled us anew. So, on the whole, we were not sorry when hon- est Great-heart ~vent off to the Celestial City in a huff, and left us at liberty to choose a more suitable arid accommoda- ting man. Yonder comes the conducter of the train. You will probably recog- nize him at once. rhe engine at this moment took its station in advance of the cars, looking, I must confess, much more like a sort of mechanical demon that would hurry us to the infernal regions, than a laudable contrivance for smoothing our way to the Celestial City. On its top sat a person- age almost enveloped in smoke and flame, whichnot to startle the readerappear- ed to gush from his own mouth and stom- ach, as well as from the engines brazen abdomen - Do my eyes deceive me ? cried I. What on earth is this! A living crea- ture ?if so, he is own brother to the en- gine he rides upon Poh, poh, you are obtuse ! said Mr. Smooth-it-away, with a hearty laugh. Dont you know Apollyon, Christians old enemy, with whom he fought so fierce a hattie in the Valley of Humilia- tion? He was the very fellow to manage the engine; and so we have reconciled him to the custom of going on pilgrim- age, and engaged him as chief conductor. Bravo, bravo ! exclaimed I, with irrepressible enthusiasm, this shows the liberality of the age; this proves, if aiiy thing can, that all musty prejudices are in a fair way to be obliterated. And how will Christian rejoice to hear of this happy transformation of his old antago- nist I promise myself great pleasure in informing hini of it, when we reach the Celestial City. The passengers heing all comfortably seated, we now rattled away merrily, ac- cornplishing a greater distance in ten minutes than Christian probably trudged over in a day. It was laughable while we glanced along, as it were, at the tail of a thunderbolt, to observe two dusty foot travellers, in the old pilgrim-guise, with cockle shell and staff, their mystic rolls of parchment in their hands, and their intolerable burthens on their backs. The preposterous obstinacy of these hon- est people, in persisting to groan and stumble along the difficult pathway, rath- er than take advantage of modern im- provements, excited great mirth among our wiser brotherhood. We greeted the two pilgrims with many pleasant gibes and a roar of laughter; whereupon, they gazed at us with such woeful and ab- surdly compassionate visages, that our merriment grew tenfold more obstrep- erous. Apollyon, also, entered heartily into the fun, and contrived to flirt the smoke and flame of the engine, or of his own breath, into their faces, and envelope them in an atmosphere of scalding steam. These little practical jokes amused us mightily, and doubtless afforded the pil- grinis the gratification (if considering themselves martyrs.Ibid. pp. 176, 7,8. Mr. Smooth-it-away soon pointed out the house of the interpreter, who is violently opposed to the rail- road, which runs at a considerable distance from his door. The an- cient foot-path, however, still passes the old gentlemans house, and there he, now and then, entertains some simple traveler with fare as old fashioned as himself. Before our talk on this stihject came to a conclusion, we were rushing by the place where Christians burthien fell from his shoulders, at the sight of the Cross. This served as a theme foi- Mr. Smooth- it-away, Mr. Live-for-the-world, Mr. Hide-sin-in-the-heart, Mr. Scaly-Con- science, and a knot of gentlemen from the town of Shun-repentance, to descant upon the inestimable advantages resulting from the safety of our baggage. Myself and all the passengers indeed, joined with great unanimity in this view of the matter; for our burthens were rich in many things esteemed precious through- out the world; and especially, we each 1847.] 63 [Jan. 64 Nathaniel Hawthorne. of us possessed a great variety of favorite Habits, which we trusted would not be out of fashion, even in the polite circles of the Celestial City. It would have been a sad spectacle to see such an assort- ment of valuable articles tumbling into the sepulchre. Thus pleasantly convers- ingon the favorable circumstances of our position, as compared ivith those of past pilgrims, and of narrow-minded ones at the present day, we soon found ourselves at the foot of the Hill Difficulty. Through the very lear~ of this rocky mountain a tunnel has been constructed, of most ad- mirable architecture, with a lofty arch and a spaciotis double-track; so that, un- less the earth and rocks should chance to crumble down, it will remain an eternal monument of the builders skill and en- terprise. It is a great though incidental advantage, that the materials from the heart of the Hill Difficulty have been employed in filling lip the Valley of Hu- miliation; thus obviating the necessity of descending into that disagreeable and unwholesome hollowIbid. pp. 178, 9. Our traveler here expressed some regret at missing an opportunity to visit the Palace Beautiful, and to be introduced to the charming young ladies, Miss Prudence, Miss Charity, Miss Piety, and the rest; but he was much comforted by the assu- rance of Mr. Smooth-it-away, though this excellent friend could hardly speak for laughter at his simplicity, that they were old maidsevery soul of themprim, starched, dry and angular. Apollyon, now passing the place where he so disastrously encounter- ed Christian, put on steam prodi- giously, and soon, much to the ap- prehension of our traveler, dashed with ihe train into the valley of the Shadow of Death. This apprehen- sion Mr. Smooth-it-away endeavor- ed to dispel, assuring him that he might consider himself as safe as on any road in Christendom. On each side of the road was a quadru- ple row of lamps, supplied by the inflammable gas, which exudes from the soil, and is ingeniously collected by means of pipes. This light was indeed hurtful to the eyes, and somewhat bewildering, differing in this respect from natural daylight as truth from falsehood. But in so dark and dangerous a valley, our traveler felt grateful for any kind of light He could not, however, sup. press his apprehension lest some ac- cident should happen, especially lest the engine should run off the track and plunge them into the bottomless pit. Just as some dismal fooleries of this nature had made my heart quake, there came a tremendous shriek, careering along the valley as if a thousand devils had burst their lungs to utter it, but which proved to be merely the whistle of the engine, on arriving at a stopping.place. The spot, where we had now paused, is the same that our friend Bunyan truthful man, but infected with many fan- tastic notionshas designated, in terms plainer than I like to repeat, as the mouth of the infernal region. This; however, must be a mistake; inasmuch as mr. Smooth-it-away, while we reniained in the smoky and lurid cavern, took occasion to prove that Tophet has not even a met- aphorical existence. rrhe place, lie as- sured us, is no other than the crater of a half-extinct volcano, in which the Direc- tors had caused forges to be set up, for the manufacture of railroad iron. Hence, also, is obtained a plentiful supply of fuel for the use of the engines Ibid. p.lSl. In spite of this comfortable expla- nation of Mr. Smooth-it-away, some uncomfortable doubts seem to have been raised in the mind of our tra- veler, by the dismal obscurity of the broad caverns mouth, darting forth huge tongues of dusky flame; by the strange half-shaped monsters, and visions of faces horribly gro- tesque into which the smoke se& m- ed to wreathe itself; by the awful murmurs, and shrieks, and deep- shuddering whispers of the blast, all forming themselves into words almost articulate; by the inhabitants of the cavern, dark, smoke-begrim- ed, deformed, with mis-shapen feet, and a glow of dusky redness in their eyes, emitting smoke from their mouth and nostrils, when by labor they grow short of breath; and by the idlers about the train, dark, wild and smoky, singularly resembling the native inhabitants, and having a settled sneering contortion of vis- age, some of whom, to his certain Nathaniel Hawthorne. knowledge, had formerly set out by railroad for the Celestial City, one of whom, a Mr. rrake4teasy, he called, and held with him a some- what unsatisfactory conversation by all these phenomena our traveler was rendered somewhat uncomfort- able, notwithstanding the comfort- ing doctrine of his friend. But soon the bell of the engine rang, and the train, dropping a few pas- sengers and receiving no new ones, dashed on through the valley, and at length, as they escaped into the light of natural day, his unpleasant doubts and apprehensions were dis- pelled, and he concluded that they were mere delusive freaks of the imagination. At the end of the Valley, as John Bunyan mentions, is a cavern, where, in his days, dwelt two cruel giants, Pope and Pagan, who had strewn the ground about their residence with the bones of slaughtered pilgrims. These vile old troglodytes are no longer there; but in their deserted cave another terrible giant has thrust himself and makes it his bus- iness to seize upon honest travelers, and fat them for his table with plentiful meals of smoke, mist, moonshine, raw potatoes and saw-dust. He is a German by birth, and is called Giant Transcendentalist; but as to his form, his features, his substance, and his nature generally, it is the chief peculiarity of this huge miscreant, that neither he for himself, nor any body for him, has ever been able to describe them. As we rushed by the caverns mouth, we caught a hasty glimpse of him, looking somewhat like an ill. proportioned figure, but considerably more like a heap of fog and duskiness. He shouted after its, but in so strange a phraseology, that we knew not what he meant. nor whether to be encouraged or affrighted.Ibid. pp 183, 4. From our travelers account of the ancient city of Vanity, into which the train thundered late in the evening, whose capitalists, together with the lord of the fair, are chief patrons of the railroad and large stockholders in it, because it brings a great influx of profitable strangers we can quote but two passages. Being naturally of a serious turn, my sttention was directed to the solid advan- tages derivable from a residence here, VOL. V. 9 rather than to the eflervescent pleasures, which are the grand object with too many visitants. The Christian reader, if he have had no accounts of the city later than Bunyans time, will be surprised to hear that almost every street has its church, and that the reverend clergy are no where held in higher respect than at Vanity Fair. And well do they deserve such honorable estimation; for the max- ims of wisdom and virtue which fall from their lips, come from as deep a spir- itual source, and tend to as lofty a reli- gious aim, as those of the sagest philoso- phers of old. In justification of this high praise, I need only mention the names of the Rev. Mr. Shallow-deep; the Rev. Mr. Stumble-at-truth; that fine old cler- ical character, the Rev. Mr. This-to-day, who expects shortly to resign his pulpit to the Rev. Mr. That-to-morrow; to- gether with the Rev. Mr. Bewilderment; the Rev. Mr. Clog-the-spirit: and, last and greatest, the Rev. Dr. Wind-of-doc. trine. The labors of these eminent di- vines are aided by those of innumerable lecturers, who diffuse such a various pro. fundity, in all subjects of human or ce- lestial science, that any man may acquire an omnigenous erudition, without the trouble of even learning to read. Thus literature is etherealized Ity assuming for its medium the human voice; and knowl- edge, depositing all its heavier particles except, doubtless, its goldbecomes exhaled into a sound, which forthwith steals into the ever-open ear of the com- munity. These ingenious methods con- stitute a sort of machinery, by whick thought and study are done to every per- sorts hand, without his putting himself to the slightest inconvenience in the mat- ter. There is another species of machine for the wholesale manufacture of individ- ual morality. This excelletut resolt is ef- fected by societies for all manner of vir- tuous purposes; with which a man has merely ~to connect himself, throwing, as it were, his quota of virtue into the com- mon stock; and the president and direc- tors will take care that the aggregate amount be well applied. All these, and other wonderful improvements in ethics, religion, and literature, being made plain to my comprehension, by the ingenious Mr. Smooth-it-away, inspired me with a vast admiration of Vanity Fair. It would fill a volume, in an age of pamphlets, were I to record all my ob- servations in thus great capital of huoman business and pleasure. There was an unlimited range of societythe power. ful, the wise, the witty, and the famous in every walk of lifeprinces, presidents, poets, generals, artists, actors and phil- Janth ropists, all making their own market at the Fair, and deeming no price too ex- orbitant for such commodities as hit their fancy.Ibid. pp. 184,5,6. 1847] 65 66 Nathaniel Hawthorne. [Jan. Day after day, as I walked the streets of Vanity, my manners and deportment became more and more like those of the inhabitants. The place began to seem like home; the idea of pursuing my trav- els to the Celestial City was almost ob- literated from my mind. [was reminded of it, however, by the sight of the same p air of siniple pilgrims at whom we had laughed so heartily, when Apollyon puff- ed smoke and steam into their faces, at the commencement of our journey. There they stood amid the densest bustle of Vanitythe dealers offeringthem their purple, and fine linen, and jewels; the men of wit and humor gibing at them; a pair of buxom ladies ogling them as- kance; while the benevolent Mr. Smooth- it-away whispered some of his wisdom at their elbows, and pointed to a newly erected templebut there were these worthy simpletous, making the scene look wild and monstrous, merely by their sturdy repudiation of all part in its busi- ness or pleasures. One of themhis name was Stick-to- the-rightperceived in roy face, I sup- pose, a species of sympathy and almost admiration, which, to my own great sur- prise, I could not help feeling for this pragmatic couple. It prompted him to address me. Sir, inquired he, with a sad, yet mild and kindly voice, do you call yourself a pilgrim ? Yes, I replied, my right to that appellation is indubitable. I am merely a sojourner in Vanity Fair, being bound to the Celestial City by the new rail- road. Alas, friend, rejoined Mr. Stipk-to- the-right, I do assure you, and beseech you to receive the truth of omy words, that that whole concern is a bubble. You may travel on it all your life-time, were you to live thousands of years, and yet never get beyond the limits of Van- ity Fair Yea; though you slioifld deem yourself entering the gates of the Blessed City, it will be nothing but a miserable delusion. The Lord of the Celestial City, be- gan the other pilgrim, whose name was Mr. Foot-it-to-Heaven, has refused, and will ever refuse, to grant an act of incor- ~ oration for this railroad; and umiless that e obtained, no passenger can ever hope to enter his dorninions. Wherefore, ev- ery man, who buys a ticket, must lay his account with losing the purchase-money which is tIme value of his own soul. Poh, nonsense ! said Mr. Smooth-it- away, taking my arm and leadiqg me off, these fellows ought to be indicted for a libel. If the law stood as it once did in Vanity Fair, we should see them grinning through the iron bars of the prison win- do~.Ibid. pp. 187, 8. This incident, and the very com- mon occurrence of persons vanish- ing suddenly like a soap-bubble, in the midst of their occupations and amusements, and being no more heard of, nor indeed cared for, made our traveler uneasy to be gone, and he resumed his journey with Mr. Smooth-it-away at his side. They soon passed the ancient silver mine discovered by Demas, now wrought to great advantage, and supplying nearly all the coined currency of the world, and found their next stop- ping place at a large edifice, con- structed of moss-grown stone, but in a modern and airy style of archi- tecture, formerly the castle of the redoubted giant Despair, but now remodeled and kept as an excellent house of entertainment, by Mr. Flimsy-faith. Our traveler could not avoid some concern lest the slightly built walls should fall. But soon Apollyon put on the steam, and they wereon their way again. The road now plunged into a gorge of the Delectable Mountains, and traversed the field where, in former ages, tIme blind men wandered and stumbled among the tombs. One of these ancient tomb-stories bad been thrust across the track, by some malicious person, and gave the train of cars a terrible jolt. Far up the rugged side of a mountain, I perceived a rusty iron door, half overgrown with bushes and creeping plants, but with smoke is- suing from its crevices. Is that, inquired I, the very door in the hill-side which the shepherds as- sured Christian was a by-way to Hell ? That was a joke on the part of the shepherds, said Mr. Smooth-it-away, with a smile. It is neither more nor less than the door of a cavern, which they use as a smoke-house for the prep- aration of mutton hams. My recollections of the journey are now, for a little space, dim and confused, inasmuch as a singular drowsiness heme overcame me, owing to tIme fact that we were passing over the enchanted ground, the air of which encourages a disposition to sleep. I awoke, however, as soon as we crossed the borders of the pleasant land of Bculah. All the passengers were rubbing their eyes, comparing watches, arid congratulating one another on the p respect of arriving so seasonably at tIme journey s end. The sweet breezes of Nathaniel Hawthorne. this happy clime came refreshingly to our nostrils; we beheld the glimmering gush of silver fountains, overhung by trees of beautiful foliage and delicious fruit, which were propagated by grafts from the celestial gardens. Once, as we dashed onward like a hurricane, there was a flutter of wings, and the bright ap- pearance of an angel in the air, speeding forth on some heavenly mission. The engine now announced the close vicinity of the final station House, by one last and horrible scream, in which there seemed to be distinguishable every kind of wailing and woe, and bitter fierceness of wrath, all niixed lip with the wild laughter of a devil or a madman. Throughout our journey, at every stop- ping-place, Apollyon had exercised his ingenuity in screwing the most abomina- ble soutids out of the whistle of the steam-engine; but in this closing effort he outdid himself, and created an infernal uproar, which, besides disturbing the peaceful inhabitants of Beulab, must have sent its discord even through the celestial gates. While the horrid clamor was still ring- ing in our ears, we heard an exulting strain, as if a thousand instruments of music, with height, and depth, and sweetness in their tones, at once tender xnd triumphant, were struck in unison, to greet the approach of some illustrious hero, who had fought the good fight and won a glorious victory, and was come to lay aside his battered arms for ever. Looking to ascertain what might be the occasion ofthis glad harmony, I perceived, on alighting from the cars, that a multi- tu~e of shining ones had assembled on the other side of the river, to welcome two poor pilgrims, who were just ernerg- ing from its mlepths. They were the same whom Apollyon and ourselves had persecuted with taunts and gibes, and scalding steam, at the commencenient of our journeythe same whose unworldly aspect and impressive words had stirred my conscience, amid the wild revellers of Vanity Fair. How arriazingly well those men have got on ! cried I to Mr. ~ninoth-it-away. I wish we were secure of as good a re- ception. Never fearnever fear ! answered my friend. (?ouie~~rtmake haste ; the ferry-boat will be off directly; and in three minutes you will be on the other side of the river. No doubt you ~vill find coaches to carry gates. you up to the city A steam ferry-boat, the last improve- ment on this important route, lay at tire river side, puffing, snorting and emitting all those other disagreeable utterances, which betoken the departure to be ito- mediate I hurried on board with the rest of the passengers, most of whom were in great perturbation; some bawling out for their baggage; some tearing their hair and exclaiming that the boat would explode or sink; some already pale with the heaving of the stream; some gazing affrighted at the ugly aspect of the steers- man; and some still dizzy with the slumberous influences of the Enchanted Ground. Looking back to the shore, I was amazed to discern Mr. Smooth-it- away tvaving his hand in token of fare- well Dont you go over to the Celestial City ? exclaimed I. Oh, no ! answered he, with a queer smile, and that same disagreeable contor- tion of visage which I had remarked in the inhabita~its of the Dark Valley, Oh, no I have come thus far only .for the sake of your pleasant company. Good bye! We shall meet again. And then did my excellent friend, Mr. Smooth-it-away, laugh outright; in the midst of which cr~hiinnation, a smoke wreath issued frow his mouth and nos- trils, while a twinkle of lurid flame dart- ed out of either eye, proving indubitably that his heart was all of a red blaze. The impudent fiend! To deny the ex- istence of Tophet, when he felt its fiery tortures raging within his breast! I rush- ed to the side of the boat, intending to fling myself on shore. But the wheels, as they began their revolutions, threw a dash of spray over me, so coldso deadly cold, with the chill that will never leave those waters, until Death be drowned in his own riverthat, with a shiver and a heart-quake, I awoke. Thank heaven, it was a Dream !Ibid. pp. 190, 1, 2. We are greatly pleased with a gentle yet earnest humanitya true interest in man and whatever per- tains to himwhich pervades all that Hawthorne writes. Its mant- festations, however, are all of the indirect kind. There is no parade of it. There is no declamation about it. There is no manifest aim nor selfconscious effort, to be, and ap- pear a philanthropist. His writings are instinct with a love of man as man, which appeats, not because it desires to be seen, but because it is there and naturally comes forth to- ward its objcct. It speaks, not be- cause it wishes to be heard, but be- cause it has something perlinenl and weighly to say. While Mr. LI. has no hostility or envy toward the great and the opulent, and recognizes and 1847.] 67 68 Nathaniel Hawtharne. [Jan. appreciates their real manhood and worth, he is, evidently, most fond of the lowly and mediocral scenes and characters of life. He prefers to penetrate the humble externals of poverty, and to admire, or sympa- thize with, and picture, what is within, rather than to linger in marble halls and gorgeous dwellings, and amid the garniture and appliances and in- dulgences of luxury. And yet, there is in his writings nothing of mawkish sympathy with the poor, no philanthropic cant, no hobby-ri- ding upon humanity. Of course Mr. H. has no favor to bestow upon that feeling of caste, to which the human heart is, in pros- perity, so pronethe pride, which prompts its posses~r to place him- self above the sympathies of our common nature, above the sympa- thies of all except a select circle or class; which fills him with the thought that he is of better clay or mould than the mass of men, and can mingle with them only by con- descension. A spirit of indirect, but decided, hostility to it, pervades all his writings. And some of his tales (for instance Lady Eleanores Man- tle) have a moral, which visits it with skillful and forcible rebuke. Mr. Hawthorne is said to belong to the democratic party. He certainly has that sympathy with every thing human whiclibelongsto the true men of all parties. And he is very un- like many, who, with equal and exact justice to all men and the largest liberty on their lips, are the most inveterate haters of a particu- lar class of men, the most obstinate withholders of equal and exact justice from them, and the apolo- gists, or advocates, or guardians of a system of their bitter oppression. There is an unfavorable criticism which we feel bound to make on one of Hawthornes tales. It is respect- ing a fault which offends our rever- ence and affection for the early New Englanders. This occurs in his story entitled The Gentle Boy, founded on the persecutions of the Quakersa tale, which, as a work of imagination, is excellentvaried, graphic, and surpassingly tender and beautiful. He exaggerates, in his story, the spirit of hostility, among the New England Puritans, to th Quakers. And he fails to make a very obvious and just distinction be- tween persecution of ihe Quakers for heresy, and their punishment for civil offensesfor absolute breaches of the peacefor publicly vilifying the magistracy, for open and bois- terous disturbance of worshiping congregations on the Sabbath, and for violent and abusive interruptions of clergymen in their discourses. It is true, indeed, that the utterance of heretical opinions was accounted, in the colonies of New England, (as it was in the parent country, in a great- er degree, especially by those at- tached to the Episcopal hierarchy,) a civil crime. This was an error. It is to be acknowledged and regret- ted. But it was an error of the age; and one from which the Puritans were more free than most of their contemporaries. Oliver Cromwell, for example, was almost two hun- dred years in advance of his age, in respect to intellectual and religious tolerance. The early New Eng- landers ought to be admired for go- ing so far toward entire freedom of opinion, in an age of ecclesiastical establishments, and of intellectual and religious servitude, rather than blamed for not going on to the per- fection of toleration and spiritual freedom, which, by gradual steps, their posterity have attained. Many of the Quakers, in the wildness of their enthusiasm, felt called to be, and actually were, serious disturb- ers of the peace. And they were punished, with the severity of those rigid times towards offenders against good order and good manners, more for those breaches of the peace, than for the utterance of heresy. Though we do not deny that there were cases, where the utterance of heresy 1847.] Nathaniel hawthorne. 69 was made, partly at least, matter of accusation and of punishment. This was a stain upon the age, and upon our fathers, in that age. Let it not be denied. But, in the name of all that is worthy of reverence in any ancestry, let it not be magnified and blackened. We regret this injustice by Mr. Hawthorne towards the New Eng- land Puritans. We are somewhat surprised at it. For he has shown, in other parts of his works, that he highly appreciates their character. True, the plan of the story of The Gentle Boy was quite a temptation to exaggerate the persecution of the Quakers. But an author of Mr. H.s genius has no need of the aid of ex~ aggeration. Hawthorne is generally quite suc~ cessful, when he employs the super- natural. But, sometimes, he makes the lesson he would teach thereby so obscure, that it is not apprehended by many readers, who, to say the least, are not obtuse. For instance. His story of Young Goodman Brown is designed to teach a mor- al lesson. But the design fails of accomplishment by the obscurity of execution. The lesson is not ap. prehended by nine out of ten of in- telligent readers. The story is to them unintelligible. They do not know what tJ~e writer would be at. They can, perhaps, see the lesson, after some fortunate one has discov- ered and explained it. But such an explanation should be unnecessary. An allegory with crutches is a poor affair. An illustration, that needs to be illustrated, may well be spared. But we have little except praise to offer respecting Hawthorne. We hope that he will write and publish often. For it is pleasant to observe, that the more he writes the better he writes. Mosses from an Old Manse his last volumesare decidedly superior to his Twice Told Tales. Involuntarily, while we have been reading hawthorne, XVashington Ir- ving comes up in our mind in com- parison with him. Irving has labor- ed successfully in a department of literature ~vhich Hawthorne has not entered. They can not, therefore, be compared, except in that kind of imaginative literature, which they have cultivated in common; and therein, we think Hawthorne quite equal to Irving. While he is not in- ferior to him in easy, graceful style of expression, and scarcely in- ferior in that exquisite gentleness and sensibility which is Irvings forte, he has a wider and deeper in- sight into human character, a great- er fondness and capability for the moral picturesque, more dramatic power, and is a profounder thinker on the subjects of which he treats. We hope Mr. Hawthorne will quit the custom house, and devote himself wholly to literature. His pen, now that it has won for him so high a reputation, will doubtless yield him an ample support, and in a way more congenial to his taste, and far more useful and honorable to his country. There are many hungry politicians who are competent to perform the duties of his office in the port of Salem, who have no great gift for benefiting the country in any other way. It is a waste of a kind of genius, which we can not well spare, to shut up Nathaniel Hawthorne in a custom house. S. W. S.D. 70 Lffe and Eloquence of Lamed. [Jan. LIFE AND ELOQUENCE OF LARNED.* No preacher has come forth from our theological institutions, to at- tract and impress the public mind so powerfully, as did the youthful Lamed during his short and brilliant course. In his first performances he verified the predictions of that sagacious judge of character, Pres- ident Davis, who remarked of him, when he was a student of Middle- bury College, that in his composi- tions and eloquence, he was not sur- passed by any youth of his years whom he had ever known, and that should his life be spared, he would as a pulpit orator have no superior in this country. No sooner had he emerged from his preparatory course in Princeton Seminary, thaa he surpassed in prof~essional life the expectations even of the most san- guine; and when he died, it was as if a star had fallen. It may seem strange that nearly a quarter of a century should elapse, before this biography was given to the public. But it has come at length from one, who, in genius and tone of sentiment, is kindred to the subject of it. We welcome the work, if tardily, still cordially, as worthy both of the theme and the author. After perusing the Life and Elo- quence of Lamed, our first impulse was to present to our readers an abridgment of that life in a few par- agraphs; that thus we might the more distinctly exhibit the features of his character. But why should we offer our own delineation on a reduced scale in daguerreotype, when the book itself presents a por- trait in full size and in natural col * The Life and Eloquence of the Rev. Sylvester Lamed, first pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in New Orleans. By R. R. Gurley. New York: Wiley & Putnam, 161 Broadway. 1844. ors, drawn by a more competent hand? Our next thought was, that we would analyze that eloquence into its elements, which in their com- bination had such power over the hearts of men. Love and admi- ration, says his biographer, at- tended his steps; churches were thronged whenever he preached; and the elements of moral and in- tellectual greatness embodied in his fine commanding person, the into- nation and compass of a voice nev- er perhaps excelled, and an entire manner natural, bold, winning and majestic, left impressions upon eve- ry assembly he addressed, not to be effaced. What is the secret of that eloquence, which, like a spell, can thus not only hold the minds of men enchained for the time, but can also leave indelible impressions on those minds? Can the elements of that eloquence be separated from their combination, like the elements of some material substance, and ex- hibited in their relative proportions? Or do they bear a closer analogy to certain imponderable agents in nature, light, heat and galvanism, which have a mighty though a mys- terious power on the properties of matter? Eloquence being relative and not abstract, and the opinions which men form of a speech depending on its particular relation to them- selves, and not on any absolute ex- cellence, we need not be surprised that different men form very differ- ent opinions of the same man, con- sidering him as eloquent or not. Indeed, two men may have the same opinion formed upon very different grounds, according as their minds are differently related to the quali- ties of his eloquence. Moreover, two men may agree in admiring the same speaker, when each con- demns what to the other was the

70 Lffe and Eloquence of Lamed. [Jan. LIFE AND ELOQUENCE OF LARNED.* No preacher has come forth from our theological institutions, to at- tract and impress the public mind so powerfully, as did the youthful Lamed during his short and brilliant course. In his first performances he verified the predictions of that sagacious judge of character, Pres- ident Davis, who remarked of him, when he was a student of Middle- bury College, that in his composi- tions and eloquence, he was not sur- passed by any youth of his years whom he had ever known, and that should his life be spared, he would as a pulpit orator have no superior in this country. No sooner had he emerged from his preparatory course in Princeton Seminary, thaa he surpassed in prof~essional life the expectations even of the most san- guine; and when he died, it was as if a star had fallen. It may seem strange that nearly a quarter of a century should elapse, before this biography was given to the public. But it has come at length from one, who, in genius and tone of sentiment, is kindred to the subject of it. We welcome the work, if tardily, still cordially, as worthy both of the theme and the author. After perusing the Life and Elo- quence of Lamed, our first impulse was to present to our readers an abridgment of that life in a few par- agraphs; that thus we might the more distinctly exhibit the features of his character. But why should we offer our own delineation on a reduced scale in daguerreotype, when the book itself presents a por- trait in full size and in natural col * The Life and Eloquence of the Rev. Sylvester Lamed, first pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in New Orleans. By R. R. Gurley. New York: Wiley & Putnam, 161 Broadway. 1844. ors, drawn by a more competent hand? Our next thought was, that we would analyze that eloquence into its elements, which in their com- bination had such power over the hearts of men. Love and admi- ration, says his biographer, at- tended his steps; churches were thronged whenever he preached; and the elements of moral and in- tellectual greatness embodied in his fine commanding person, the into- nation and compass of a voice nev- er perhaps excelled, and an entire manner natural, bold, winning and majestic, left impressions upon eve- ry assembly he addressed, not to be effaced. What is the secret of that eloquence, which, like a spell, can thus not only hold the minds of men enchained for the time, but can also leave indelible impressions on those minds? Can the elements of that eloquence be separated from their combination, like the elements of some material substance, and ex- hibited in their relative proportions? Or do they bear a closer analogy to certain imponderable agents in nature, light, heat and galvanism, which have a mighty though a mys- terious power on the properties of matter? Eloquence being relative and not abstract, and the opinions which men form of a speech depending on its particular relation to them- selves, and not on any absolute ex- cellence, we need not be surprised that different men form very differ- ent opinions of the same man, con- sidering him as eloquent or not. Indeed, two men may have the same opinion formed upon very different grounds, according as their minds are differently related to the quali- ties of his eloquence. Moreover, two men may agree in admiring the same speaker, when each con- demns what to the other was the 1847.] Life and Eloquence of Lamed. 71 ground of his admiration. What an eloquent speech, said one; and what a loud voice the speaker has! Why, said a second, I did not like his voice, for it is like screaming; but I did like his animation. As for his animation, said a third, it was too much like the raving of a mad- man; but I did admire his compli- ments to the audience. His com- pliments, said a fourth, were too much like flattery; but his good sense pleased me. This is some- thing like a true picture of the dif- ferent impressions which an elo- quent man makes upon different minds. Instead of entering upon any in- quiries as to the comparative value of the several elements of elo- quence, as exhibited by Lamed, we propose to present some thoughts suggested by the work before us, on the practice of eloquence, as conducive to improvement in elo- quence. From his parents Lamed might have inherited the same excellent physical organizationthe same fine intellect, and the same ready sensibility; in Williams College and in Middlebury, in Andover Theolo- gical Seminary and in Princeton, he might have had the same opportu- nities for studying the theoretical principles of eloquence, both in elo- cution and in rhetoric; he might have had the same independent spi- rit, the same high sense of honor, the same deep piety and extensive knowledgestill without practice he could not have been the same elo- quent man. It is said, on one oc- casion, when he was a boy at play with his brother, he laid a wager that he would make him weep by talking to him, and that by his pa- thos he soon melted him to tears. The Rev. J. N. Danforth relates the following anecdote of his practice in oratory, while he was preparing for college in Lenox Academy. As we were walking home to Pitts- field one Saturday afternoon, we stopped to rest a while near a rock by the road side, which rising a lit- tle from the earth, presented so lev- el a surface as to constitute a kind of platform. On this the young traveler mounted, and with the heav- ens for a sounding board, and my- self for an audience, pronounced a speech of which I had the sole ben- efit, and which I praised to the hearts content of the orator. While he was connected with this Academy, some of the students were ambitions of trying their pow- ers of argument and eloquence, be- fore a mock tribunal of their own, in imitation of the courts of law then holding their session in Lenox. Young Lamed as an advocate spoke with a fluency, sensibility, self.con- fidence and originality, that gave promise, had he been destined to the legal profession, that few would have towered above him in efforts or in power. At the age of four- teen he delivered an oration on the fourth of July before a large audi- ence in his native town, which re- ceived great applause. Allusion has already been made to his efforts in oratory and composition in Mid- dlebury College. Both in that in- stitution and in Princeton Theologi- cal Seminary, he was constantly schooling himself into the mental habits of the orator, by the practice of eloquence. One advantage derived from the practice of eloquence is, that it ena- bles one adequately to understand its principles. The priteiples pre- sented in form in college text-books, and in learned treatises, are often studied carefully, and recited prompt- ly, without being adequately under- stood by the pupil. And when their importance is insisted on, either by the author or the teacher, there is often some incredulity in the mind of the pupil, showing itself in some- thing like good natured derision. Or if they are received as true, they still have not much depth or strength of meaning in his mind, 72 Life and Eloquence of Lamed. [Jan. For instance, when he reads the fa- mous saying of Demosthenes, who, when asked what is the first excel- lence in eloquence, answered, Ac- tion; and what is the second, ac- tion; and what is the third, ac- tion ; he attaches but little mean- ing to this repeated answer, in com- parison with that in the mind of him who uttered it. He does not under- stand the signification of the word, action, though he may think he does. Indeed that great orator him- self only learned the full meaning of the term and the value of the thing to which it is applied, from re- peated failures and final success in practice. The same is the fact in a thou- sand cases. Take that of articula- tion. You might tell one who had never pronounced the letters 1 and r, that for the first, he must inter- rupt the voice, by placing the tip of the tongue against the upper gums, and for the latter, by placing the middle of the tongue against the roof of the mouth. Now this is the true rule, and the indispensable rule, and one easily understood; still it can not be adequately understood without practice. We know it was said in classic times, that a philoso- pher is a shoemaker even though he never made shoes, since he is theo- retically acquainted with the princi- ples of shoemaking, and of every other art. But put him to the proof in the actual manufacture of a pair of shoes, and he would hardly sat- isfy one of those well dressed men, who promenade Chestnut street or Broadway. Even in religion, the importance of practice, in order to the just understanding of its princi- ples, is distinctly set forth. He that doeth~ his will shall know of the doctrines whether they are of God. He who has hest practiced the du- ties of the Christian religion, best understands its principles. It is, then, in accordance with that gene- ral law, that the practice of elo- ~uence is necessary to the full un derstanding of its theoretical prin- ciples. Another advantage which one may derive from the practice of elo- quence, is the correction of any~ false principles which he may have adopted. Along with what is true, his accidental reading or observa- tion, or deductions, may have led him to adopt much that is false, ei- ther in regard to the true end of eloquence, or the means by which that end is accomplished. The first orators that the world has seen, have been able, by practice, to correct certain false notions which they once entertained, as to what elo- quence is. Cicero, in the first pub- lic cause which he pleaded, in de- fense of Roscius of Ameria, uses the following language, which he afterwards condemned, when prac- tice had corrected his theoretical views. Having occasion, in the course of his plea, to mention that remarkable punishment which their ancestors had contrived for the mur- der of a parent, of sewing the crim- inal in a sack and throwing him into a river, he says, the meaning of it was to strike him at once out of the system of nature, by taking him from the air, the sun, the wa- ter and the earth, that he who had destroyed the author of his being, should lose the benefit of those ele- ments, whence all things derive their being. They would not throw him to the beasts, lest the contagion of such wickedness should make the beasts themselves more furious. They would not commit him naked to the stream, lest he should pollute the very sea, which is the purifier of all other pollutions. They left him no share of any thing natural, how vile or common soever; for what is so common as breath to the living, earth to the dead, the sea to those who float, the sky to those who are cast up? Yet those wretches live as long as they can, so as not to draw breath from the air; die so as not to touch the ground, are so toss- 1847.] Life and Eloquence of Lamed. 73 ed by the waves as not to be washed by them; so cast out upon the shore as to find no rest even on the rocks. This piece of extravagance his bet- ter taste, improved by practice, con- demned. Many a young orator has found by experience, that those de- corations which he once admired as true eloquence, are of no more use in the strife of debate, than are the nodding plumes on the warriors crest amid the fury of the onset. The great western orator, in his early speeches, sometimes indulged in rant; but by a course of experi- ence he has corrected his views, so that, for many years, he speaks on- Jy what is effective, judicious, and tasteful. Another advantage which one may derive from the practice of elo- quence is, that it will make him fa- miliar with the application of the true principles of eloquence. Two men shall understand the principles of eloquence equally well, and one of them will be an eloquent man, because he is familiar with the ap- plication of these, while the other is utterly destitute of eloquence. This latter one may be fully acquainted with the subject at issue in debate, and likewise with the true principles of logic and rhetoric, and yet fail in his contest with one inferior to him in every thing but a practical familiari- ty with the principles of eloquence. This has been finely hit off in the interview between advocate Pleydel and dominie Sampson. When the man of law began to get into his at- titudes, and his wit, naturally shrewd and dry, became more lively and pungent, the dominie looked upon him with that sort of surprise with which, we can conceive, a tame bear might regard the monkey, up- on their being introduced to each other. It was Mr. Pleydels delight to state, in grave and serious argu- ment, some position which he knew the dominic would be inclined to dispute. He then beheld, with ex- quisite pleasure, the internal labor VOL. V. 10 with which the honest man arranged his ideas in reply, and tasked his in- ert and sluggish powers, to bring up all the heavy artillery of his learn- ing, for demolishino the schismatic or heretical opinions, which had l)een stated; when behold, before the ordnance could be discharged, the foe had quitted, and appeared in a new position of annoyance, on the do[ninies flank and rear. Often did he exclaim, prodigious, when marching up to the enemy in full confidence of victory, he found the field evacuated; and it may be sup- posed that it cost him no little labor to attempt a new formation. In al- lusion to this contest, Col. Manner- in g remarks, even our friend the dominie, is returned thrice the man he was, having sharpened his wits in controversy with the geniuses of the northern metropolis. Of a surety, said the dominie, with great complacency, I did wres- tle and was not overcome, though my adversary was cunning in his arts. I can bear witness, said the colo- nel, that I never saw an affair bet- ter contested. The enemy was like Mahratta cavalry; he assailed on all sides, and presented no fair mark for artillery; but Mr. Samp- son stood to his guns notwithstand- ing, and fired away, now upon the enemy, and now upon the dust he had raised. rhis describes somewhat, it may be in caricature, the condition of many a man, who has not learned by practice to apply the principles of eloquence; who has gathered stores of knowledge, which as an orator he can not readily use; who has not a shilling at command, though he could draw for thousands. The point in the story which bears on the purpose in hand, is found in the remark of Col. Mannering, up- on the improvement of the dominie by practice, which sharpened his wits. Another advantage which one 74 Life and Eloquence of Lamed. [Jan~ may gain from the practice of elo- quence, is found in the readiness of mind which it produces. The study of theoretical principles, while it produces largeness of views, and logical accuracy of statement, is not very favorable to promptitude either of thought or expression. In order to success the mind must arrest each idea in succession, until it is viewed in its various associations, and the whole is arranged in the order of premise and conclusion with philo- sophical exactness. In dwelling on the abstractions of philosophy ha- bitually, the mind becomes cool, comprehensive, far-reaching, dis- criminating, but slow, considerate, hesitating. When this becomes the fixed habit of the mind, the man can not, in the highest sense, be elo- quent. Now the practice of elo- quence tends to prevent the forma- tion of this mental habit, by estab- lishing habits of an opposite char- acter, by making the mind prompt in its decisions, discursive, invent- ive ; thus forming the advocate in- stead of the judge, the orator in- stead of the philosopher. One thus trained is inspired by the occasion, so that he has his resources at com- mand, and can say more things to the purpose, and better things, than he expected to say on the particular point at issue; while he who is ac- quainted with general principles, but has had no practice, will lose himself and his audience in naked generalities, will omit what ought to be said, arid will say what ought to be omitted, and, on the review of the effort which he has made, will discover that his wit always comes afterwards. Another advantage derived from the practice of eloquence is, that it gives self-possession. For want of this, men of the highest talents and the largest attainments, and the most pleasant in conversation, have utter- ly failed in public speaking. For want of this, Byron failed signally in the House of Lords, and Buiwer in the House of Commons, as also did Addison before him. Their minds were full of thought, fertile in combination, and deeply interest- ed in the subject, but from want of practice they were not at home in the halls of debate. With talents angel bright, they fell from the high aim of their ambition, never to hope again, because they had not formed their minds to success by the drudg.~ ery of previous practice. In contrast with this, take Mira- beaus just triumph at the Assembly of the tiers etats. Duroverai, a distinguished foreigner, was seated in the Assembly with some depu- ties of his acquaintance. He had occasion to pass to Mirabeau a note, written with a pencil. One of the most formidable declairners in the Assembly saw this, and asked the member who sat next him, who that stranger was who was passing notes, and interfering with the proceed- ings. On being informed who he was, he rose, and in a voice of thun- der, stated that a Ibreigner, banish- ed from his native country, and re- siding in England, from whose gov- ernment he received a pension, was seated among them, assisting at their debates, and transmitting notes and observations to the deputies of their Assembly. The agitation on every side of the hall which succeeded this denunciation, would have ap- peared less terrible had it been the forerunner of an earthquake. Con- fused cries were heard, Who is he? where is he? let him be pointed out. Fifty members spoke at once; but Mirabeaus powerful voice soon obtained silence. He declared he would point out the foreigner to the Assembly. This exile in the pay of England, is M. L)uroverai, of Geneva; and know that this re- spectable man whom you have so wantonly insulted, is a martyr to liberty; that as attorney general of the republic of Geneva he offen- ded our vizier, by his zealous de- fense of his fellow.citizens; that a 1847.] Life and Eloquence of Lamed. 75 !ettre.de.cachet, issued by M. de Vergennes, deprived him of the office he had but too honorably fill- ed; and when his native city was brought under the yoke of the aris- tocracy, he obtained the honors of exile. Behold, then, the stranger, the exile, the refugee, who has been denounced to you. Formerly, the persecuted man sought refuge at the altar where he found an inviolable asylum, and escaped from the rage of the wicked. The haIl in which we are now assembled is the temple which, in the name of Frenchmen, you are raising to liberty, and will you suffer it to be polluted by an outrage committed upon a martyr of liberty ? The effect produced by this speech was electrical. It was succeeded by a universal burst of applause. Duroverai was immedi- ately surrounded by deputies, who, by their kind attention, endeavored to atone for the insult they had offer- ed him. Byron or Bulwer would have been unequal to an occasion like this. But Mirabeau being a practiced debater, and therefore able to retain his self-possession on this trying occasion, won the As- sembly over to his views, by this sudden burst of eloquence. Another advantage which one may gain from the practice of elo- quence is, that it will help to bring him into sympathy with his audi- ence. If the retired student should stand up to address some large pop- ular assembly, he might find that there is a want of sympathy amount- ing almost to repulsion, between them and himself, which would ef- fectually prevent him from address- ing them with much power, even though his mind and his heart are full of the subject. He is insulated as completely as the charged prime conductor of an electrical machine, or as a cloud so far from the space of electrical communication with the earth, as to be beyond striking distance. Lie is, indeed, among them, but not of them in heart and soul. How can he, while his heart does not beat responsive to their heart so that they can feel its palpi- tations, persuade them to give up themselves to him, as to another self? While there is a general want of fellow-feeling between him and his audience, ho~v can he per- suade them to feel as he feels, ona particular subject? They may, in- deed, listen with patience ; they may admire the coruscations of his genius, but just as they would the cold evening lights of a northern sky. Indeed, instead of a~lmiration they may feel disgust, at the exhibi- tion of any strong feeling in which they do not sympathize, as the mark of something like mania. On the other hand, what a power a speaker derives from sympathizing with his audience! The celebrated Warren was, in 1775, called upon to deliver the annual address in commemoration of the inhabitants of Boston, who were killed by British soldiery on the 5th of March, 1770. Some British officers had declared that it should be at the price of the life of any man, to speak of that event on that anniversary. It is said that Warrens soul took fire at the threat so openly made, and that he wished for the honor of braving it. On that day British officers oc- cupied the aisles in the old South church, the flight of steps to the pul~ pit, and several of them the pulpit itself. The orator having, by the assistance of his friends, made his entrance at the pulpit window, the officers, seeing his intrepidity, made way for him to advance and ad- dress the audience. The speaker began his oration in a firm tone of voice, and proceeded with great en- ergy and pathos. Then the patriot, in whom the flush of youth and the grace and dignity of manhood were combined, stood armed in the sanc- tuary of God, to animate and en- courage the sons of liberty, and to hurl defiance at their oppressors. What sustained him in the power. 76 Lffe and Eloquence of Lamed. [Jan. ful movements of soul, on this peril- ous occasion? Besides the sense of duty, he found his support in his sympathy with the audience. In their pale but determined faces he saw that, in his countrymen before him, there was but one mind, one heart, and that mind and that heart was his own ; so completely had the power of sympathy fuzed the minds and hearts of the speaker and of the hearers together. Nothing but the habitual practice of elo- quence, can make one entirely at home with an audience. Another advantage which one may gain from the practice of elo- quence is, that it will bring his feel- ings, thoughts,words, tones, gestures, and countenance, into harmony. No time need be spent n showing the importance of this harmony, since without it there can be nothing that deserves the name of eloquence. Now practice by the law of associ- ation has a tendency to bring the feelings into harmony with the thoughts, the words and tones into harmony with the feelings, the coun- tenance and whole person into bar- rnony with the words, so that all the powers of the man are concentrated on the single act of persuading the hearers to come into the views and feelings of the speaker. Besides this analytical view of the subject, the general doctrine we have advocated is sustained by a multi- tude of facts. And first, men who have been the most distinguished for their knowledge of the true prin- ciples of the theory of eloquence, have, from the want of practice, been unable to produce much im- pression as public speakers. Thus Isocrates, the father of Grecian elo- quence, as his school was its cradle, never made but one attempt at pub- lic speaking, when he gave up in despair. Aristotle, the ablest critic of antiquity, was far from being an eloquent man. Neither Campbell or Whately has been considered as reaaarkable for eloquence in public speaking, though both of them are distinguished for their acquaintance with the true principles of eloquence. And generally, teachers of eloquence have not been great orators. Just as the best teachers of the principles of the military art, have not been the greatest warriors. Another general fact is, that many distinguished orators have made im- provement in eloquenqe just in pro- portion to their amount of practice. It was said of Robespierre, by Rey- has, on hearing one of his first speeches in the Chamber of Depu- ties, this young man has not yet practiced; he is too wordy, and does not know when to stop; but he has a store of eloquence which will not leave him in the crowd. tie after- wards practiced, with so much suc- cess, that he was able by his voice to govern the Chamber, then Paris, then revolutionary France. Many a distinguished orator might be nam- ed, whose maiden speech was a fail- ure. But instead of yielding to dis- couragement, believing like Sheri- dan tha~t it was in them, and re- solving like him, that it should come out, they went steadily on in the way of practice, until success crown- ed their eflbrts. Men have followed pursuits which have led them away from the prac- tice of eloquence until they seem to be destitute of the power of speak- ing well, but on resuming that prac- tice, have gained the power. When John Quincy Adams was candidate for the presidency a second time, a comparison was drawn between him, and Andrew Jackson, and Henry Clay, in the way of showing that General Jackson was great in ac- tion, Mr. Clay great in eloquence, Mr. Adams great only in writing. Now as greatness either in action or in eloquence, is superior to greatness in writing, it was inferred that on the ground of merit, either General Jackson or Mr. Clay was to be pre- ferred to Mr. Adams. No one at that time pretended that this state- 1847.] Life and Eloquence of Lamed. 77 ment made by Mr. McDuffie, did any injustice to Mr. Adams, for no one regarded him as an eloquent man. For years when abroad as Minister, and then during twelve years when he was Secretary of State or President, he had been out of the practice of eloquence. He did indeed once, on the invitation of the city authorities of Washington, deliver an oration on the fourth of July, which was regarded, taking thG delivery into view, as an inferior performance. Indeed, when~~ was appointed to a seat in Congress, it was supposed that from his great political knowledge and experit~nce, he might be useful on committees, but little was expected of him as a speaker. But he then went into the practice of eloquence, as he was be- fore well acquainted with its theo- retical principles, every session im- proving, until he has now come to be regarded as another Nestor, though some indeed regard him as the Thersites in debater Such has been the influence of practice, that it has transformed the retir~d and scholastic statesman, who might be said to live with his pen in his hand, into a ready and terrihle antagonist in debate. This it did for him after he was sixty years of age, when the habits of mind are supposed to be rigid, and new associations are not easily formed. There is another general fact which, in this connection, deserves notice. Men who were distinguish- ed for their eloquence while in the practice of speaking, lose their pow- er in consequence of laying aside that practice. Thus, men who were eloquent advocates while they were at the bar, when they have been raised to the bench, in a few years lose, in some degree, the power which they once had. Eloquent preachers afler being, as professors, for a few years withdrawn from the practice of preaching, cease to be eloquent. Their minds are occu- pied and their feelings absorbed in other pursuits, until their mental habits are changed from those of the orator. Daniel Webster was an eloquent man in Congress in 1814; and when in 1824 he was sent from Boston, great expectations were en- tertained that he would exert a corn- manding influence on the council of the nation. But not having recent- ly been in the practice of congres- sional eloquence, he somewhat dis- appointed the expectations of his friends. His effort for the Greeks was, in the w6rds of an elegant and practiced debater, awkwardly made. He failed in carrying the two leading measures which he sus- tained that session. He was evi- dently inferior to John Randolph, who opposed him on one of these measures, as he was to Henry Clay, who opposed him on the other, though in the printed speeches he is superior, in some respects, to either. But after a few years of practice, if he did not surpass all, he might, without injury to others, be styled, primus inter pares. After he had thus been acquiring skill and power for some years, Mr. Calhoun, who, as Secretary of War and Vice Pres- ident of the United States, had, for twelve years, been withdrawn from practice, came into the Senate, with the virtues and talents of an ac- coml)lished statesman. The subject of nullification came before that bo- dy. This brought out these two dis- tingu ished men in opposition to each other. Though well matched in other respects, Mr. Calhoun was, from the want of recent practice, deficient in that perfect self-posses- sion which the other had gained by practice, and hence his inferiority on that occasion, in comparison with the orator from New England; an inferiority which he did not mani- fest in debates after he had been longer in the Senate. If, in reply to these reasonings and facts, it should be stated that Hamilton in the British Parliament, without any previous practice, do- 78 Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. livered an able speech, and ever after kept silence there ; in rejoinder we would say, that this was consid- ered as so remarkable an exception to the general rule, that he has, to this day, gone by the name of sin- gle.speech Hamilton. While we thus advocate the im- portance of practice as the means of success in eloquence, we would not he understood to underrate other means, or those qualities which ever show themselves in the great ora- tor. We do not undervalue solitary study, or theoretical principles, or the treasured stores of learning, as means of improving in eloquence. We do not undervalue the burning passions and the unconquerable will of Chatham, revealed in words of fire as from a seraphs lips; or the winged imagination of Burke, which circled over all the creations of na- ture and of art to gather contribu- tions to aid the intellect; or the strong good sense and ready memo- ry of Fox, speaking to the common heart of man; or the brilliant wit of Sheridan; or the logical accuracy and sound judgment of Pitt; or the playful fancy of Canning. Na- ture, in her bounty, imparted some of these rare gifts, and study fur- nished them with others; but they woi~ld. ftll have been comparatively valueless without practice. There is, perhaps, nothing in the whole range of human acquisition, that is so much coveted by the stu- dent in some part of his literary course, as to be an orator. To rise in an assembly with ease and self- possession; to state his opinions with gracefulness and energy of Ian- guaae and manner; to control the will of%thers; to act with irresisti- ble effect on the passions; to awa- ken the minds of others to their real interests; to hold a multitude hang- ing on his lips, as if they were spell- bound ; while he transfuses his mind into their mind, until there is but one beating heart, or but one voice, one resolving willwhat student has not aspired to this? And what student has not, at times, been in- clined to sit down in despair of being able to do this? For his encour- agement let him remember the maxim sanctioned by time, orator fit, the orator is made, not born. Let him not despair of being made an orator, until he has tried the power of practice. w. c F. CAUSE AND CURE OF SECTARIANISM. IT is one of the auspicious signs of the times that Christian union is so prominently occupying the thoughts, the prayers, and the efforts of Gods children. Never, till our day, has the church awaked, not merely to lament sectarianism, but to put forth a deliberate and general effort to remove its evils. And important progress has been made toward cor- rect views. It has come to be un- derstood that union is not to be based on the neglect or abandonment of conscientious opinions, however pe- culiar; that secession from the churches for the sake of union is only increasing the number of sects; that no sect may reasonably expect that its peculiar tenets will be uni- versally adopted; that an organiza- tion for merging all sects in one, is impracticable, and, even if practica- ble, dangerous, as a terrific engine of crushing liberty of opinion; that the abandonment of all creeds, and the disowning of responsibility as to recognizing or denying the Christian character of others, result, as experi- ment has of late shown, in a virtual abandonment of all distinction be- tween the church and the world, Christianity and infidelity; that, in a

78 Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. livered an able speech, and ever after kept silence there ; in rejoinder we would say, that this was consid- ered as so remarkable an exception to the general rule, that he has, to this day, gone by the name of sin- gle.speech Hamilton. While we thus advocate the im- portance of practice as the means of success in eloquence, we would not he understood to underrate other means, or those qualities which ever show themselves in the great ora- tor. We do not undervalue solitary study, or theoretical principles, or the treasured stores of learning, as means of improving in eloquence. We do not undervalue the burning passions and the unconquerable will of Chatham, revealed in words of fire as from a seraphs lips; or the winged imagination of Burke, which circled over all the creations of na- ture and of art to gather contribu- tions to aid the intellect; or the strong good sense and ready memo- ry of Fox, speaking to the common heart of man; or the brilliant wit of Sheridan; or the logical accuracy and sound judgment of Pitt; or the playful fancy of Canning. Na- ture, in her bounty, imparted some of these rare gifts, and study fur- nished them with others; but they woi~ld. ftll have been comparatively valueless without practice. There is, perhaps, nothing in the whole range of human acquisition, that is so much coveted by the stu- dent in some part of his literary course, as to be an orator. To rise in an assembly with ease and self- possession; to state his opinions with gracefulness and energy of Ian- guaae and manner; to control the will of%thers; to act with irresisti- ble effect on the passions; to awa- ken the minds of others to their real interests; to hold a multitude hang- ing on his lips, as if they were spell- bound ; while he transfuses his mind into their mind, until there is but one beating heart, or but one voice, one resolving willwhat student has not aspired to this? And what student has not, at times, been in- clined to sit down in despair of being able to do this? For his encour- agement let him remember the maxim sanctioned by time, orator fit, the orator is made, not born. Let him not despair of being made an orator, until he has tried the power of practice. w. c F. CAUSE AND CURE OF SECTARIANISM. IT is one of the auspicious signs of the times that Christian union is so prominently occupying the thoughts, the prayers, and the efforts of Gods children. Never, till our day, has the church awaked, not merely to lament sectarianism, but to put forth a deliberate and general effort to remove its evils. And important progress has been made toward cor- rect views. It has come to be un- derstood that union is not to be based on the neglect or abandonment of conscientious opinions, however pe- culiar; that secession from the churches for the sake of union is only increasing the number of sects; that no sect may reasonably expect that its peculiar tenets will be uni- versally adopted; that an organiza- tion for merging all sects in one, is impracticable, and, even if practica- ble, dangerous, as a terrific engine of crushing liberty of opinion; that the abandonment of all creeds, and the disowning of responsibility as to recognizing or denying the Christian character of others, result, as experi- ment has of late shown, in a virtual abandonment of all distinction be- tween the church and the world, Christianity and infidelity; that, in a 1847.] Cause and Cure of & ctarianism. 79 word, we are to seek union without uniformity. But, notwithstanding this advance, our views still remain confused, and our plans crude. This is what might naturally be expected in the begin- ning of efforts in earnest, to remove an evil which for ages has torn the church. It is certainly no reason for looking coldly on the enlerprize. Rather our only hope is that the en- ergies of Christians, their thoughts, their prayers, their efforts will be ex- pended on the subject, till, by blows, if need be on every side, the crude mass is hammered into shape. It will be taken, then, as the language, not of an enemy, but of a friend to the enterprize, if we express our ap- prehension that some important ele- ments of success are still overlooked; and our consequent fears that the present movement, like the minor and local attempts which have pre- ceded it, will, by its failure, increase the discouragement, which already borders on despair of accomplishing any thing for the removal of secta- rianism. It seems to us that the plan, which at present interests the Christian community so much, of producing union, while all the de- nominations retain their peculiari- ties of creed and organization, and are expected to be conscientious in valuing and defending them, neces- sarily involves, as human nature is, the continuance of some of the worst evils of sectarianism. A few mo- meats of consideration will make this evident. If the sects retain their distinct or- ganizations and peculiarities of be- lief, they will be zealous to propa- gate them. The language of each will be, What! shall not we be in earnest to propagate this great truth, of which our church has for ages been the sole depositary ?~ For illustration, take the following reso- lution copied from the printed min- utes of the Franklin Baptist Associ- ation of ministers and churches, at their annual meeting at Shelburne Falls, Ms., in Sept., 1844. Where- as the world is now made almost entirely dependent on the Baptists of the world for faithful translations of the sacred oracles, and whert~as the Am. and F. B. Soc. are engaged in preparing and circulating such versions, therefore, Resolved, that we approve the course pursued by the A. and F. 13. Soc., & c. Here we have the convictions of consci- entious men, publicly and solemnly expressed and recorded. We men- tion it, not ad invidiam, but as the most striking specimel], which hap- pens to occur to us now, of consci- entious sectarianism. Will such men, with such convictions of the importance of their peculiarities, be slack in propagating them? But if one sect propagate its peculiarities as important truths, they will be as conscientiously opposed by others as dangerous errors. The result must be controversy, and, as human na- ture is, it will be strange if there fol- low not jealousy, bitterness, and all the horrors of the odium theologicum, which, to the disgrace of religion, has become another name for the bitterest rancor. Another evil attending the exist- ence of sects is, that in almost every village, two or three ministers are supported in a population which might be better served by one, and thus the funds and efforts are con- sumed which might otherwise be employed among the destitute. Another evil is that attending the collision of sects in their attempts to gain new members. In country places, especially, where, through the almost infinite divisibility of sects, the loss or gain of a single member is a matter of pecuniary importance, every Christian can tes- tify to the evils of proselyting and of sectarian strife. When both the conscience and the purse fall on the same side of the scales, no matter what is on the other, it will surely kick the beam. Again, the distinctive principles [Jan. 80 Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. of some sects are such as to compel them to unchurch all others. The Baptists can not recognize as church- es those sects which do not practice immersion. Episcopalians recognize no church nor ministry but the Epis- copal. It is a fact that, with all the love manifest in the late meeting of the Alliance, though pulpits were exchanged by scores between min- isters of the other different denom- inations, not a solitary Dissenter was admitted to an Episcopalian pulpit, nor did a single Episcopalian preach in a Dissenters pulpit. And we have not yet learned that a single Baptist among those who hold to close communion, partook of the Lords supper with any of his breth- ren belonging to other denomina- tions represented in the Alliance. It is reasonable to ask, what sort of union it will be, which will leave peculiarities like these in existence and unrebuked. These and similar evils have al- ways attended the existence of sects, and, if there is any conclusiveness in inductive reasoning, it may be expected they~ always will. Now there must be some causes, which so uniformly produce, and so stead- ily perpetuate these evils. Every scheme of union which overlooks these causes, is impracticable. Just here, we apprehend, is the point where the views of union, at present popular, are defective. The princi- ple of union without uniformity, is unquestionably correct. But in our eagerness to bring, on this princi- ple, all Gods children together, we are not bestowing thought enough on the causes which keep them apart; and thus are cherishing the chimer- ical expectation of putting an end to the evils of sectarianism, while the causes producing it are left in full operation. This is like the electri- cians attempting to unite his pith- balls, while they remain all positively electrified. The great work, then, remains, to discover and remove the offense of divisionthe evil and unjustifiable causes out of which sectarianism grows. It is easy enough for true Christians of different sects to meet as individuals, expressly declaring that they do not act in behalf of their sect, to shake hands, to lament the evils of schism, and, as they talk together of the things of their com- mon salvation, it is to be expected that their hearts will flow together in love, and their souls be refreshed. There is reason to bless God, that enough of real union remains to make this possible. But all these delightful seasons, all this eloquence in praise of union, all the eulogiums of it, and exhortations to it in the world will not effect it, unless the cause of division is definitely ascer- tained, distinctly pointed out, and some reasonable measures devised arid adopted for its removal. Hie labor, hoc opus est. It is of no use to spend our eloquence in show- ing how fine it would be to bell the cat, unless the cat be found, and some way of putting on the bell devised. We have had platform eulogiums of union ad nauseam, from men who leave the platform to plunge all over in sectarian strife. It is of no use to pass resolutions bewailing sectarianism, while acting on a prin- ciple which implies that there is op- erating among the sects no sinful cause of division, which needs to be removed before union can be ef- fected. A moral influence for good may go out from the meeting of individu- als of different sects in conference. Doubtless such meetings will do much in directing public attention to the subject, in removing preju- dice, and in preparing Christians candidly to consider how the evil is to be removed. This preparation is indispensable, and we rejoice that it is begun. It is the right way to begin. But, then, it is only a work of preparation; only marshaling the troops and marching them to the field. There remains the great 1847.] Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. 81 business afterwards, to conquer peace. There is an alternative as to the result of such efforts, regarded in any other light. Either the re- suit will he an occasional happy meeting of Christians, in a glow of love, to stay each other with flagons, and comfort each other with apples, while the fires of sectarian controversy remain in full blast; or it will be, that all the er- rors of sects will be winked at, and the rule, first pure, then peace- able, will, for the sake of union, be in effect blotted out of the Bible. The great work, then, remains; it is now fairly before the churches; the work of discovering and de- vising means to remove the causes of sectarianism. We can not but regard it as one of the most important enterprises claiming the attention of this age of great things. Our Savior prayed that his disciples might be one, that the world might know that God had sent him. Here we are taught the momentous truth, that the oneness of the church is the grand proof of Christs divine mission. No wonder that infidelity thrives, and that, under various names, it has well nigh eaten out the piety of some whole states, usurping the name and place of Protestant Christianity. It should be expected, since the dissensions of the church have taken away what Christ considered the grand proof of his divine mission. Let Christian union be restored, union in heart rather than in appearance, and it would go farther to destroy infidelity, than a whole library of evidences of Christianity. And it would remove the greatest obstacle to the conver- sion of the world. XVho does not fear that it will be the dying hour of our missions, when sectarian con- flict shall begin to rage on heathen ground? It is a remarkable fact, that the most prominent petition in our Saviors prayer (John 17) is, that all his disciples may be one showing that in leaving them he felt VOL. V. 11 that here was their greatest danger, here the point most essential to the advancement of his cause. It would seem, then, that we should be more nearly of the same mind with Christ, if we should say, not that Christian union is one of the most important, but that it is preeminently the grand subject which now demands the thoughts, the prayers, and efforts of Gods children. What, then, are the causes of sec- tarianism and its evils? We shall not find them in aught that is peculiar to any one sect. This error has blinded us long enough, that we have supposed the causes of division to lie entirely without our own sect. We must learn to search our own tent for the accursed thing which puts Israel to shame. And it is something beside the actual existence of sects. The abolition of all the denominations to-day would not remove it. When two denominations unite to build a meeting-house, or to sustain religious meetings together, the result is usu- ally worse dissension than ever. And if all denominational organiza- tions were abolished to-day, the pre- disposing causes remaintag ac tive,it would be like the union of confusion at Babel, from which a separation to the four winds must inevitably re- suIt. Such a cure of sectarianism would be like curing the patients by tearing down the hospital, and bid- ding the sick go about their business, as those in health ought to do. We name, in general, as a cause of sectarianism, a departure from the Scriptures, as the only ultimate standard of faith and practice. It is the glory of Protestants that they recognize the Bible as such. Yet we believe it is far from being in fact what it is in theory, and that every sect has departed more or less from the simplicity that is in Christ. It is one of the greatest marvels, that men can not come to a better agree- ment as to the meaning of a book so plain as the word of God. Such 82 Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. [Jan. contradictory doctrines are drawn from no other book. We must ei- ther yield to the taunt that the Bible is a confused jumble of contradic- tions, out of which we can make any creed that we pleasea taunt to which sectarian twisting of the Scrip- tures has given too much foundation or we must admit that we have perverted or neglected the Bible, or drawn our peculiarities from other sources, and so failed to use it as the only ultimate standard of appeal. We will mention a few particular causes of disunion, more or less closely connected with this general one. 1. We have put the deductions of philosophy and metaphysics on a level with the teachings of inspira- tion. All know that a large propor- tion of the controversies among evangelical Christians, are on points respecting which the Bible gives no explicit decision. There is one class of controver- sies arising from attempts to ex- plain the modus or rationale of scrip- tural facts, or to reconcile them with each other. For example, the Bi- ble teaches that God determines all things according to the counsel of his will, yet that men are free and accountable agents; that it is God that worketh in us both to will and to do, and yet that we work out our own salvation; that the Word was God, yet became man. The at. tempt to reconcile or explain such facts has occasioned innumerable controversies. One party sinks al- most out of sight one side of truth; another the other. And sects spring up, not perfect bodies fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, but overgrown embodiments, each of some one member of the truth. But the only philosophical course is to learn by induction what facts are taught in Gods word, and to be- lieve, though we can not explain them. This is the course pursued by the natural philosopher. There are a hundred facts in natural sci- ence, as inexplicable and irreconci- lable as any in Gods word. When once we have learned the law of cohesion, abstract reasoning would never teach us, in looking at a crys- tal of quartz, that any other princi- ple is concerned. But when we come to discover the repulsive agency of heat acting on the same atoms, and then discover the action of affinity, and the still more curious phenome- na which we refer to the molecular forces, or the different polarities of atoms, all concerned about the same particles and in producing one beau- tiful crystal, we receive the facts, neither rejecting them nor entering into controversy about them, because we can not explain how these di- verse operations are related and har- monized. Every philosopher un- derstands that his province is to learn facts, not to speculate as to how they can be facts. On the same principle, he has no dispute about the fact that the harmony of the solar system results from two op- posing tendencies, the centripetal and centrifugal forces. It would be as reasonable that there should be furious controversy on these points, that there should be sects of Cohe- sionists, Repulsionists, and Molecu- larists, of Gravitationists and Cen- trifugalistsnames by the way quite as elegant as many which may be found in the history of dogmatics as that analogous events should take place respecting the teaching of the Bible, that the beauty and harmony of the spiritual world result from facts which we can not reconcile or explain. In the vast school of the universe, mankind are but the infant class, therefore, both in the volume of na- ture and of revelation. God takes the same course with us, and puts us to learning simple, though often sublime and stupendous facts. We must wait for the growth and in- struction, it may be, of ages, be- fore we can take in a circle of know- 1847.] Cause and Cure of Sectarianis7n. 83 ledge wide enough to qualify us to see the relations of these facts, or to begin to learn how they come to be facts. As the scientific philoso- pher goes straight forwards with his facts, though thronged with questions which he can not answer, it is time we had learned in theology, also, our incapacity for these deeper spec- ulations, and the propriety of con- ducting our inquiries according to the laws of induction, applied to the word of God. But so it has not been. Theolo- gians have not aimed at a simple in- duction and classification of scrip- tural truths. Surrounding the plain doctrines of Gods word with a bristling chevaux-de-frize of their own speculations, they have made religion repulsive, and well nigh in- accessible. They have laid down dogmatic propositions respecting the unknowable, and uttered oracular decrees respecting mysteries into which angels desire to look. Con- sider, for example, the decrees re- specting the eternal generation of the Son of God, concerning which the Fathers laid down that which is to be believed, with a precision, as some one with more wit than godliness has remarked, quasi ipsi obstetri- caverant. Speculations concern- ing the mode of the divine existence gave birth to Sabellians, Praxeans, Paulianists. Speculations as to the mode of Christs existence gave rise to Docetme; and so on, through the long list of hard names, which de- signate the ancient sects. The habits of theological specu- lation formed before the Baconian era still enslave the church. Aris- totle still preaches on Pauls texts. Induction which has everywhere else disentangled the intricacies of science, seems yet to find in theol- ogy a Gordian knot. We forget, when we become theologians, that our province here, as in natural sci- ence, is to learn facts, not to specu- late as to how they can be facts. Therefore controversy abounds. With briars and brambles we hedge around every sweet doctrine of the gospel. Thus has been given no slight occasion for the sneer, that divinity is the science of the incom- prehensible, the revelation of the unrevealable; this is the field in which dignified divines are great, deep, profound, because here nobo- dy can contradict them. And, as another result, infidels, seeing the church so full of strife about dog- mas, have seized the enterprizes of philanthropy which Christianity has originated, and driving Jehu-like, are crying, See our zeal for good, while they sneer at the church, for splitting hairs over a groaning world; a most crafty and dangerous as- sault; for while they turn the enter- prizes of Christianity against the church, like Phaeton when he usurp- ed the car of the sun, they are set- ting the world on fire, and, if the church seize not again the reins, are likely to blot the light of piety from the earth. It is time theology had made clean riddance of such unphilosophical philosophizing, and returned to the pure milk of the word. Before the Baconian philosophy had become predominant, natural science was the arena of interminable contro- versy. There were the Ptolemaics and the Braheans, the Cartesian vor- tices, the Aristotelian plenum, and the Epicurean atoms. But after the philosophy of induction was thoroughly established, these con- troversies vanished, like cobwebs be- fore a broom, and the whole scien- tific ~vorld rests in a substantial agreement as to facts. Let scienti- fic men return to their former specu- lations, and how long before the in- ane controversies of the dark ages would return? And, on the other hand, let theologians return to a simple induction of truths from the Bible, and how long before some of our worst controversies would cease? Again: we have deptirted from Gods word, by placing on a level 84 Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. [Jan. with its teachings the deductions of metaphysics. Here belong a large part of the controversies respecting the will, the law of motives, wheth- er the influences of the Spirit are mediate or immediate, respecting the moral condition of infants, the theories of moral philosophy, and the like. Controversialists are, in- deed, in the habit of arraying par- ticular texts as arguments on these points. But it is plain that these texts, extracted from letters, poems, narratives, were never uttered with any reference to a metaphysical theory. We may cite, as a distin- guished illustration, the text in Psalm 110: Thy people shall be willing in the day of thy power, which has been a hundred times quoted in sup- port of some metaphysical theory of the will. It were about as conclu- sive to quote some of the prophe- cies respecting the heavens being fire and vapor of smoke, in proof of the nebular hypothesis of Laplace. From the days when the Gnostics and New Platonists began to inter- weave their philosophical dogmas with the Bible, or rather to twist the Bible into conformity with them, how large a portion of religious dis- sensions have turned on the pure de- ductions of metaphysics. We deny not the importance of metaphysics. We value mental and moral philosophy. We are willing that men should study this science and discuss its truths. What we protest against is, that the conclu- sions of human philosophy should be put on a level with the teachings of the Bible, and debated as part and parcel of Christianity. There may be truth, important truth, on one side of these discussions, and error on the other. But we wrong our brother if we compel him to re- ceive that truth as a truth of Chris- tianity. We wrong Christianity, if we lay this truth on her, and make her responsible for its safe-keeping. For example, what a melee of con- tradictory theories is found among the writers on moral philosophy. Must Christianity be made responsi- ble for all the opinions of doctors of morals? Must she wait till the true theory of mans moral nature is settled? No. Christianity, in her beautiful simplicity, is indepen- dent of all these opinions; her pro- gress need not be delayed a mo- ment for their settlement. And we affirm the same of every opinion which is based on metaphysics and not on the Bible. Christianity is not responsible for such opinions, nor interested in such discussions, oth- erwise than in the discussion, could it be revived, between the Coperni- cans and the Ptolemaics, or in any theory of natural science. The one belongs to the science of matter, the other to the science of mind; neither to Christianity. To make Christianity responsible for such opinions, to rest her credit on them, is simply acting over the bigotry of the Pope, when be imprisoned Gali- leo for his astronomical tenets. Sci- entific discoveries, either in the ma- terial or the mental world, may be successfully used as handmaids to religion, in refuting objections, in il- lustrating and confirming its doc- trines. But it is downright bigotry to make our opinions in either one science or the other, the measure of Christian belief, or the symbol of ecclesiastical parties. If Christians will cease from this unreasonable course, if they will make the Bible, the whole Bible, and nothing but the Bible, the measure of Christianity, all the large class of controversies of which we have been speaking, while they may continue as impor- tant matters in science, will cease to interrupt the peaceful union of the church. 2. Unscriptural tests of church membership are a fruitful cause of sectarianism. The common prac- tice of evangelical churches, in ad- mitting to membership only such as they consider regenerate persons, is approved by God in his word. The 1847.] Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. 85 18th chap. of Matt., and various passages in the epistles,* confer on the church the right, and impose on them the duty, of withdrawing fel- lowship from those who walk disor- derly. This implies a church or- ganization, and a responsibility as to admitting members to fellowship. They who would throw this respon- sibility on every individual, to act his own pleasure, adopt a system in- compatible with these inspired di- rections. It is a method of destroy- ing dissensions by destroying the church; and reminds us of the tame bear in the fable, which, to kill the fly that rested on his sleeping mas- ters face, struck a blow which de- stroyed the fly and the man to- gether. The Bible lays down this rule to guide us in receiving others to our fellowship: Receive ye one anoth- er as Christ hath received us. Ac- cordingly, the reason given for the command, Him that is weak in the faith receive ye, but not to doubt- ful disputations, is, For God hath received him. The principle of church fellowship is, therefore, to re- ceive every true disciple of Christ, and no others. Imperfect as every thing is on earth, we can not expect that this principle will be exactly carried out. Still it should guide us; it should be our aim to have in the visible church all that belong to the spiritual church, and no others. Christian union can be nothing else but the union of Christians. It can not be denied that the sects have set up other tests than this. Here we speak not of those tests of slaveholding, rum-selling, and the like, by which whole classes of the community are shut out from the Lords table. Every individual must he judged on his own merits. If he bears fruit, be it slaveholding or aught else, which convinces us that he is not a disciple of Christ, we Titus3: 10. 2Thess.3: 6,14. 2 John, 10, & c. have no alternative; we must reject him. If we believe that he is a new creature in Christ, however im- perfect, we must not exclude him, for God hath received him. We have no right to turn the Lords ta- ble into a guillotine, and point to it in terrorem to compel those whom we acknowledge as brethren to adopt our views, But tests like these are a small part of the evil. We fear there are more or less of unscriptu- ral tests in every creed in Christen- dom. The fact that we adopt at all the doctrinal basis of fellowship, instead of the simple basis of Christian char- acter, is an innovation on primitive simplicity. However, the wisest men for fifteen hundred years have felt that, under the circumstances in which the church has been placed, doctrinal creeds have been necessa- ry as a means of making the scrip- tural test effectual. We dispute not their judgment. But we allow such creeds only as a necessary evil, and rejoice in anticipating the time, when, in the progress of truth and Christian fellowship, they may wax old and vanish away. It is delight- ful to know that some of the most far-seeing minds in Europe and America are joyously anticipating this result. The church has existed in a state in which there was no oc- casion for doctrinal creeds. This was the state of the primitive church. It was the state of many of the New England churches in the first period of their history. This shows that it is not chimerical to hope for the like again. But while we admit the expedi- ency of doctrinal creeds at present, we affirm that they have been used in an unscriptural way, and thus have been fruitful sources of divis- ion. They have been used as ultimate tests of fellowship, instead of being made subordinate to the scriptural test, Christian character. They can properly be used only as helps in 86 Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. determining the Christian character of those who seek fellowship with us. Prepared and used for this end, they are safe and desirable, and con- stitute no occasion for disunion among Christians. Again, we have unwarrantably inserted in our creeds scriptural doc- trines, as we regard them, the belief of which is confessedly not a test of Christian character. The unity of Christians demands oneness of sen- timent only so far as new creatures in Christ must he one in sentiment. Beyond this it leaves oneness of sen- timent to be brought about by the kindly influences of fraternal inter- course and discussion, or diversity to remain perpetual as the necessary consequence of diverse education, temperament, and points of view. Far be it from us to represent any doctrine of the Bible as unimportant. If the distinguished botanist, Prof. Dewey, receives the thanks of the scientific for making a single genus, the Carex, the subject of study for eighteen years; if another botanist is praised for devoting eleven years study to the microscopic cryptoga- mia, found in mould and the green- ness of stagnant ponds, how much more must we admit the importance of examining with the most patient care, the minutest points in Gods word. But when deciding the ques- tion of fellowship, we must receive one another as Christ bath received us. If we crowd into our creed the minutfre of revelation, and compel our brother either to subscribe to it, or be shut out of the visible church, we do him wrong, and are guilty of causing schism in the church. Are we not all alike freemen of the Lord? Are we not fello~v-citizens with the saints and of the household of God? And shall we not be admitted to the rights of freemen and citizens in the king. dom of our common Lord? Shall we be denied our household rights by other children in the family of our common Father? We hold that Christian fellowship is one of the rights which every Christian is justified in demanding. No union is worth having which leaves us stripped of this right. Every sect, therefore, which unchurches the other sects by wholesale, or drives from its communion the acknowl- edged followers of Christ, is usurp- ing authority in Gods kingdom and family, is trampling on the rights of Christs freemen, and is guilty of the sin of schism in the church. This is true in a measure, though we only exclude our brother from our partic- ular church, leaving him free to join other sects, recognizing the body with which he unites as a church, conceding to them our fellowship, and thus leaving a basis for real Christian union. But emphatically is it true, if we refuse to recognize our brethren as belonging at all to the church of Christ. Whoever believes that the Episcopal or any other spe- cific organization, that immersion or any other mode of administering the ordinances of the church, is essen- tial to the being of a church, holds a principle which makes Christian un- ion an impossibility. This principle has always been one of the most prominent causes of intolerance and persecution ; and wherever it exists, in Papist or Protestant, in Episcopal- ian, Presbyterian, or Independent, it can be expected to result in nothing but bigoted sectarianism. Christians may differ as to what forms of or- ganization and rites are most nearly conformed to the scriptural standard, and yet receive each other to fel- lowship. But we think Christian union is impossible, unless Christians will recognize as one branch of the visible church every body of true believers statedly united for the pur- poses of Christian communion and edification, in the use of the ordin- ances and means of grace, however erroneous their constitution may be regarded. Again, we depart from the scrip- tural standard, and make our creeds causes of division, when we insert 1847.] Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. 87 der which it seemed at first that they were buried out of sight forever. But they crawled out. And though the mountain stands, and no man can move it, it does not appear at present that any of his opponents are under it. They are as numer- ous and as busy as ever. Less nota- ble victories of a similar kind may have occurred, but with similar re- sults. Facts, therefore, constrain us to say, that polemical theology has not established principles on one side or the other, has not reclaimed error- ists, but has widened the breach and inflamed the animosity between the parties, and confirmed both in their respective opinions. is it said, We must defend what we regard as important truths, and re- sist error. True. But facts show, that controversy, as it has actually been conducted, fails to accomplish this end. Is it said, controversy elicits light, though it fails to con- vince the errorist ? So does a burning house ; but would one set his house on fire to show his neigh- bor the way home? And shall we keep the church in a blaze simply to elicit light, which after all, the wanderer always uses to guide him- self farther astray? Verily there is a more excellent way. There has been that which is utterly un- christian and unjustifiable in past controversies among brethren. It is time we were removing the wrong, and, admonished by the fruitlessness of past controversy, were seeking, as certainly there is to be found, a more excellent way of proving all things and holding fast that which is good. As to a vast amount of the polem- ics which has found its way into the pulpit and the press, both laziness and ambition have perhaps had more influence than the authors suppose. If a man would prepare a sermon in them those articles of belief, which, as we have already remark- ed, are deductions, not from the Scriptures, but from philosophy and metaphysics. Great and good men, according to the wisdom of their day, have made creeds, embracing minutely the par- ticulars of theological doctrine; these have done, and, in their proper place, are still doing good; and the names of their authors will be held in perpetual veneration. But if such creeds were intended as tests of church fellowship, we must wonder at the hardihood of their authors in attempting to bind in their own thoughts and language the religious sentiments of generations yet un- born, and petrify the thoughts of all ages in an unchanging rigidity. Let us rather cling to Gods word. And as to the danger of error, if the eter- nal barriers of truth erected by God himself fail to keep out the enemy that cometh in like a flood, can we expect our frail ramparts to do it better? Shall we build mud dikes, for fear that Gods rock-bound shore will not restrain the ocean? 3. Theological controversy is a cause which perpetuates disunion. We speak of controversy, not as it may be, but as it has beenappropri. ately styled polemics,and which is far enough from being the excellent oil that shall not break the head. Many topics, about which the church was once in a blaze of controversy, are now confessedly unimportant, and have sunk out of notice as much as the controversy once seriously and earnestly prosecuted in Papist seminaries, whether the devils un- derstand Latin. Other questions come round in ceaseless revolution, and one generation carries through, with all the freshness of novelty the same controversy which, ages be- fore, had been waged on the same suljects, with the same arguments and the same fruitlessness. Ed~ which shall be applauded as keen, wards did, indeed, put a mountain profound, powerful, it is vastly of argument on his opponents, un- easier to show up the absurdities of 88 Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. an opponent on some controverted point, than to preach on some plain principle of the Gospel so as to equally fix the attention. Contro- versy has been, therefore, to a great extent a gladiatorship, in which the combatants are exhilarated and stim- ulated by the shouts of the admiring amphitheatre. We must say, also, that both the spirit and the end of theological con- troversy have been too commonly wrong. The spirit has been that of enemies, not of brethren; the end has been victory for a party, not, with childish simplicity, to discover the truth. Consequently controver- sialists seldom understand each oth- er, they caricature each others sen- timents, and charge each other with opinions at which each in turn shud- ders. The result is bitterness and enmity. We may exemplify this by referring to the controversy between Wesley and Toplady, and their co- adjutors. It is hard to say which party most caricatured the other, or which exhibited the most unchristian and deplorable bitterness. On both sides, alas, far too much of this bitterness and misapprehension re- mains. Many a time have we ex- claimed, and we are afraid not al- ways with the proper temperature of Christian sorrow and love, When did an Arminian ever represent cor- rectly the Calvinistic creed ? And we suppose, though our position does not qualify us to feel it as our opponents do, Arminians have prob- ably often asked with equal sincer- ity, When did a Calvinist ever correctly represent the Arminian creed ? We select this contro- versy simply as an illustration of what is true of many others. We are aware that we touch on sore places here. But we choose to do so, that we may find out where the sore is, and may see in what un- brotherly misrepresentations, in what galling attacks we have reciprocally indulged. Another result of the sectarian spirit and ends in controversy, through which it becomes a cause of division, is, distorted and one- sided views of scripture. Parts of the Bible are picked out and the changes rung on them through the pulpit and the press, while the rest js greatly neglected. One can not preach a sermon on any text, but election makes the body of it, and inability the inferences. Another, though he announces as his text, Without me ye can do nothing, fails not to make it his main object to show the free agency and ability of man. One class are almost of- fended if you read in their hearing the ninth chapter of Romans. An- other seem to regard this as the quintessence of the Gospel, and show a peculiar sensitiveness when the text is announced, Make you a new heart. We all know that there are the Calvinistic texts, the Arminian texts, the Baptist texts. Thus the Bible is split to match the fissures in the church. Thus the tree of knowledge is chopped into kindling wood to feed the fires of strife. We have a memorable instance of this one-sided dependence on iso- lated texts, in the controversy at Marbury, between Luther and Zuin- gle, and their coadjutors. The con- troversy began with the declaration, If the Swiss do not yield to us, all the trouble will be lost-an explicit avowal of the principle which has silently controlled a multitude of controversies, and which reminds us of the man who would not look through Galileos telescope, for fear he should be obliged to believe the astronomers statements. Luthers whole mind was occupied, in the discussion, with a single text, This is my body. He chalked it on the velvet table-cloth. And when the most convincing arguments were urged against him, he had no re- tource but to hold up the cloth, with the text on it, before the eyes of his opponents. Thus fell that great man, 1847.] Cause and Cure of Sectarianism. 89 entangled in the meshes of sectarian controversy. It is a gloomy illus- tration of what such controversy has always been, showing how it pre- occupies the mind with a dogma, dictates to the Bible its meaning, and cramps the thoughts to isolated and favorite texts. Once let it get the mastery, and it dooms the noblest intellect to go round and round, like a cider-mill horse, in the same humdrum path, grinding out from the sweetest fruit of the tree of knowledge nothing but the bitter waters of strifethe very vinurn da~monumat first exhilarating, then maddening, then deadly. The remark so often made of late, that the differences among Christians are trifling, com pared with the points in which they agree, is founded in truth. That sect in our country, whose peculiarity con- sists in wearing hooks and eyes in- stead of buttons, the Scotch cove- nanters in Vermont, who receive to fellowship none but such as retain the old Scotch version of the Psalms and sing them by lining, and sub- scribe to the league and covenant just as it was in Cromwells days, have peculiarities which seem to us sufficiently trifling. Yet it may be that the angels regard in a similar light all our peculiarities, when compared with the work of saving the world from sin. Though really important, yet, like the differentials in Calculus, they are of no account by the side of the infinite. Yet there are real differences. The attempt to show that we think almost alike, is futile. Shall we, then, supinely neglect to prevent the spread of what we regard as important error? No. Discussion there must be. But let us, in the first place, abandon all questions about the unknowable, and dismiss to the sphere of scientific investiga- tion all the points which belong to metaphysics, in distinction from rev- elation. Then, if a brother em- brace what we regard as an erroneous VOL. V. 12 interpretation of the scriptures, let us concede to him all the rights of a Christian brother. Let us then sit down, as it were, by his si de,and try to find out precisely what he be- lieves, and what peculiar circum- stances have led to his thus believ- ing, so that we may look at the sub- ject from his point of view. Let him do the same with us. This done, a multitude of controver- sies will be let alone before they are meddled with. It will be found that we have materially misunderstood each other; or, at the most, that with- out denying our position, our brother has overlooked it in the eagerness with which peculiar circumstances have led him to look at another side of the truth; or that we have over- looked the particular aspect of truth which he holds. In this case, each will thankfully use the light which the other gives, to help his own pro- gress to fullness in his views of truth. If the parties still differ, let them continue side by side, each feeling his own liability to error, each anxious to learn the exact sense of the Bible, each, with the teacha- bleness of a child, looking earnestly to God for light. Some differences respecting the meaning of Gods word, many differences on other points, might still remain; yet we could differ in love. But let the course above indicated be pursued, and the time would soon come when our differences respecting the simple doctrines of the Bible would be few and microscopic, compared with what they now are. It is very strange, if, plain as the Bible is, and having the promised teaching of Gods Spirit, we can not reasonably expect a nearer approach to substan- tial agreement than we see now. It is a common remark, that, on some disputed points, true Christians ex- hibit, in their prayers, a substantial agreement. The reason is, that in prayer they cease to be influenced by the spirit and end of sectarian controversy. If the spirit of true 90 The Impre8sivene8s of Preaching. [Jan. prayer should pervade all religious discussions, they would tend to union, not to strife. We have not professed, in the preceding remarks, to name all the causes of sectarianism. Especially we have said nothing of that causa causarum in this matter, the low state of piety. Yet we are con- vinced that the thoughts of Chris- tians must be turned in the direc- tion we have indicated, that the church must address herself in earn- est to the work of discovering and removing the causes of disagree- ment, and must return to the sim- plicity that is in Christ, if our de- sires for Christian union are ever to be realized. S. II. THE IMPRESSIVENESS OF PREACHING. A WRITER in the Edinburgh Re. view, some time ago, began an arti- cle on Pulpit Eloquence, by observ- ing, as a surprising fact, which was worthy of explanation, that so large a class of men as the clergy of Scotland, of average talent, and all regularly educated, having access to the people one day in seven under favorable circumstances, and dwell- ing on the most important and affect- ing topics of human thought and feeling, do yet produce comparative- ly few discourses that have any con- siderable permanent intetest for the public mind. In this statement, the Scotch clergy were regarded as only examples of the clergy generally wherever their position is the most favorable to efficiency and success. The writer proceeded to account for the fact asserted, partly from the want of directness in the prevailing man- ner of presenting religious truth; or of that quality which disting~Ashes addresses from essays and disquisi- tions, and of which he named Lati- mer, South and Baxter, as eminent examples. The supposed fact, with some of the reasons for it, will be the subject of consideration in the present article. That discourses from the pulpit are not generally so interesting to the people as the subjects, the occa- sion, and the qualifications of the preachers might lead one to expect, we are not disposed to deny. Leav ing out of view those persons to whom all religious doctrine,and even all sober thought are repulsive, whose indifference or dislike to preaching of course needs no other explana- tion; it must be acknowledged that better disposed hearers often find but a sorry entertainment in dis- courses which yet are every way respectable. A sermon is too often expected to be dull, as having proved so on repeated trials. it is a kind of composition characterized, in the popular view, by excessive staidness and uniformity. In matter, language and delivery, it is supposed to be set apart from other public addresses as less exciting, if not less useful. It is expected to deserve or demand careful attention, rather than to ex- hibit or awaken spontaneous emo- tion. If an oration is heavy, prosy or tedious, it is sometimes compared to a sermon, as if the latter were an antithesis of vivacity, poetry and el- oquence. Hence, in part, the con- trast in one of Burns pieces, when he says: Perhaps it may turn out a sang, Perhaps turn out a sermon. The published discourses of able preachers are not, in general, favor- ite reading, except with the most disciplined and serious minds. All this may be admitted. Yet to us it seems by no means unaccountable nor does it raise any imputation

90 The Impre8sivene8s of Preaching. [Jan. prayer should pervade all religious discussions, they would tend to union, not to strife. We have not professed, in the preceding remarks, to name all the causes of sectarianism. Especially we have said nothing of that causa causarum in this matter, the low state of piety. Yet we are con- vinced that the thoughts of Chris- tians must be turned in the direc- tion we have indicated, that the church must address herself in earn- est to the work of discovering and removing the causes of disagree- ment, and must return to the sim- plicity that is in Christ, if our de- sires for Christian union are ever to be realized. S. II. THE IMPRESSIVENESS OF PREACHING. A WRITER in the Edinburgh Re. view, some time ago, began an arti- cle on Pulpit Eloquence, by observ- ing, as a surprising fact, which was worthy of explanation, that so large a class of men as the clergy of Scotland, of average talent, and all regularly educated, having access to the people one day in seven under favorable circumstances, and dwell- ing on the most important and affect- ing topics of human thought and feeling, do yet produce comparative- ly few discourses that have any con- siderable permanent intetest for the public mind. In this statement, the Scotch clergy were regarded as only examples of the clergy generally wherever their position is the most favorable to efficiency and success. The writer proceeded to account for the fact asserted, partly from the want of directness in the prevailing man- ner of presenting religious truth; or of that quality which disting~Ashes addresses from essays and disquisi- tions, and of which he named Lati- mer, South and Baxter, as eminent examples. The supposed fact, with some of the reasons for it, will be the subject of consideration in the present article. That discourses from the pulpit are not generally so interesting to the people as the subjects, the occa- sion, and the qualifications of the preachers might lead one to expect, we are not disposed to deny. Leav ing out of view those persons to whom all religious doctrine,and even all sober thought are repulsive, whose indifference or dislike to preaching of course needs no other explana- tion; it must be acknowledged that better disposed hearers often find but a sorry entertainment in dis- courses which yet are every way respectable. A sermon is too often expected to be dull, as having proved so on repeated trials. it is a kind of composition characterized, in the popular view, by excessive staidness and uniformity. In matter, language and delivery, it is supposed to be set apart from other public addresses as less exciting, if not less useful. It is expected to deserve or demand careful attention, rather than to ex- hibit or awaken spontaneous emo- tion. If an oration is heavy, prosy or tedious, it is sometimes compared to a sermon, as if the latter were an antithesis of vivacity, poetry and el- oquence. Hence, in part, the con- trast in one of Burns pieces, when he says: Perhaps it may turn out a sang, Perhaps turn out a sermon. The published discourses of able preachers are not, in general, favor- ite reading, except with the most disciplined and serious minds. All this may be admitted. Yet to us it seems by no means unaccountable nor does it raise any imputation 1847.] The Impressiveness of Preaehing. 91 against the clergy, as if they were unjust to their vocation. That kind of interest which they fail to awaken, could not fairly be expected from their efforts, even if they were su- perior to other men in natural abil- ity. Some of the very reasons given by the writer we have citcd, why such an effect should be pro- duced, rather forbid than authorize the expectation. lie falls into the common error of demanding too much effect from an ordinary ser- mon; not more than the importance of the subject presented may be sup- posed to warrant, but more than the known facts of human nature and the circumstances of the preacher can justify us in derrtanding. It is true that the doctrines of the Bible are of the sublimest character, and of infinite moment to all who hear them; yet the human mind is not commonly moved according to the intrinsic magnitude or importance of the objects contemplated, but on the contrary, is excited rather by the nearness or the novelty of inferior things. The preacher has frequent open access to the people, even one day in seven given up to his use but again, the human mind is not most intensely affected by those ap- peals to which it is most accustomed. Nor is the preacher, of course, in every respect aided by the sacred- ness of the time and place. nor by the hallowed associations of his of- fice and work; for these influences, however salutary on the whole, are favorable rather to solemnity and thoughtfulness, than to more lively and positive emotions. It is the natural effect of these circumstances, and the tendency of the truths in- culcated, to soften and overawe, in- stead of vividly exciting the minds of the hearers. rfhe same quality of address which otherwise would stimulate their passions, is generally found to be modified in its results and legitimately, tooby a certain chastening or restraining influence which belongs to the sanctuary and the gospel. In fine, we apply to this subject some of the recognized laws of the human mind,that the objects with which we are familiar, presented in the manner to which we are accustomed, do not affect our feelings like an extraordinary exhibition ; that the frequent and regular inculcation of the same truths, while it strengthens their hold of our convictions and habits, at the same time irn pairs the vivacity of their immediate impression; and that the element of sacredness in religious teaching, operates not so much on what are called sensible emotions, as on our deeper and more abiding sentiments. But anoth- er fact in human character must be brought into the account. The de- piavity of mankind, besides making some hearers bitterly hostile, renders a greater number stupidly insensible to the truth. Their moral affections give their thoughts an undue bias toward sensible objects, and against spiritual and divine things, so that these last do not get that earnest at- tention which otherwise they could not fail to receive from rational creatures. The doctrines of the Bible may have all conceivable ex- cellence, so as to be contemplated with the deepest interest by holy be- ings, and yet, when addressed by the preacher to sinful men, may be scarcely apprehended, arid may even be reckoned foolishness. Men do not listen to what is said of the character and government of God, as they would if they were his loyal subjects, nor gaze upon the beauty of holiness as if their own hearts reflected its image~ They do riot show that truly ration- al curiosity which the angels are said to feel in the work of redemp- tion. rphe mercy of God in the gift of his Son, is the most wonder- ful and moving of all themes, but it may seem only as a thrice told tale, to those who are dead in sins.~ Even with such a message, th eser vant of God can not of himself 92 The Impressiveness of Preaching. [Jan. create a soul under the ribs of death. These considerations are enough to show the mistake of those who demand too much from the preaching of the Gospel. They regard it abstractly, or apart from certain known facts in the nature and character of man; and hence, they wonder that it does not pro- duce effects commensurate with the intrinsic dignity of the Gospel itself. Certainly able and educated minis- ters may discourse judiciously and faithfully to the same people every Lords day, without inspiring that interest which the great doctrines they proclaim ought to awaken. The deficiency thus admitted and explained, lies in that kind of inter- est which we conceive to be not the most important. rPliere is another sort of interest which is awakened more generally, and in a higher de- gree, by the preaching of the Gos- pel. It is not the charm of novelty, nor the indulgence of curiosity, nor physical excitement, nor the lively play of fancy or passion; hut rather a sober, thoughtful regard, compar- atively calm or unimpassioned, hab- itual, abiding. In these respects it resembles the interest we all natu- rally feel in the great affairs whh which we are constantly conversant in common life, as in domestic in- tercourse, friendship, and business. This we conceive to be a legitimate effect of preaching, because it is it- self among the affairs of common lifenot an extraordinary occur- rence, but something to which we are accustomed. The measure of such interest felt by the popular mind, may be learned from the de- liberate estimate put upon the ob- ject, the attention and thought be- stowed on it, the efforts made to ob- tain and preserve it, and the sense of loss occasioned by its absence. If now we consider the regular at- tendance in our churches, the amount of thought given to the subjects pre- sented, the sums expended on hous- es of worship and in the support of ministers, and the unwillingness of almost every settled community to remain without such means of in- struction, we find that the people at large do in fact set a high value on the preaching of the Gospel, though not all which it deserves ; that it holds a high place in the public mind, and draws to itself a deep and permanent regard. We believe that in the long run, sermons are more interesting to the people gen- erally, than any other exercises with which they can be properly compared. Common as they are, and notwithstanding their imperfec- tions, they are more interesting often even in that sense in which we have noted their deficiency than other kinds of popular lec- tures, orations, or speeches. If we hear a church bell in a strange town, and ask what is to take place, we prefer to have it public worship and a sermon, rather than a con- ference, or a missionary, or tem- perance, or anti-slavery meeting; and so far as we know, the people are generally of the same mind. It is easier to collect an audience for a sermon, than for statements and addresses even from returned missionaries. The Lords day is more refreshing and satisfactory to the mass of Christian people, though it returns fifty-two times every year, than the anniversary week in New York after it ceases to be new. It is notorious that political orations and speeches are to~ wearisome to be attempted except after long in- tervals, and mass-meetings are as- sociated in the remembrance with din, fatigue, and headache, at least as much as with the thrilling elo- quence of their harangues. The debates in Congress are generally listened to only by reporters and strangers. All these things, with occasional exceptions, depend on novelty or accident for their whole interest. Ordinarily they become flat by familiarity. Arguments at the bar obtain a mdre respectful at- 1847.] Tise Impressiveness of Preaching. 93 tention, but generally within a lim- ited circle of official or occasional hearers, nor are they heard every week. Even the entertainments of the theater and the opera pall with repetition, requiring the aid of some rare performer or novel device to secure the attendance of their avow- ed patrons. It is evident that in comparison with these public occa- sions, the people at large feel more interest in the preaching of the Gospel. From week to week the greater part of them are found in some house of God, preferring to be there, and generally not inattentive to whatever the teacher, whom they choose and maintain, has to say. He is so accustomed to see a calm intelligent regard prevading the face of the mixed assembly before him and answering to his appeals, that he notes its absence whenever it is wanting. Nor is that regard weak- ened but rather increased when they have heard a thousand discourses from the same lips. From youth to old age, the habit of attention is perpetuated and strengthened. All this is a common fact, at least in those parts of our own country with which we are best acquainted.* And it seems to us a fact well wor- thy of consideration. It shows that preaching is an institution adapted to the popular mind, in all stages of * The condition of things may be less favorable in this respectwe might rea- sonably expect it would bein those countries where the people have no part in the selection of their religious teach- ers. The voluntary system probahly makes more attentive congregations. And the interest awakened by l)reacllirlg may not answer to our description in those churches where a frigid morality is substituted for the Gospel. Mr. R. ~V. Emerson, in one of his Essays, draws a picture of a listless audience under a list- less preacher, in a snow-storm, as a spe- citnen of congregati ens generally at this day; but most evidently he found the original in the only religious assemblies with which he had been conversant as a Unitarian minister. His representation of the audience is glaringly untrue to common orthodox congregations. cultivation, and more particularly that it does not wear ~out by use, like the means contrived anew from time to time for temporary effect. It shows the wisdom of the Author of Christianity, in making popular instruction the chief function of his ministers, which was never true to the same extent of any false relig- ion. And it shows also the folly of those nominal ministers of Christ, who would dispense with the work of preaching, or reduce it to a sec- ondary place, in order that the peo- ple may be attracted by scenic show, or overawed by mystic rites. As we do not charge it to the in- capacity or negligence of the clergy, that sermons commonly fail of the lively temporary impression which some might expect from the impor- tance of their topics, neither do we ascribe their impressiveness, in com- parison with other forms of popular address, to any superior merit on the part of the clergy. We only maintain that sermons produce that effect, in kind and degree, which the nature of things justifies us in expecting, if we suppose the preach- ers to have the ability along with the imperfections of other men. Nor shall we be understood to say that the work of preaching is per- formed as ivell as it ought to be performed. On the contrary we hold that it may be rendered far more efficient, and, in every sense of the word, more interesting. As it has been said that every man is a debtor to his profession, so ministers owe it to their calling that with rip- ened experience and observation they should perfect themselves in the composition and delivery of ser- mons. We propose no~v to point out some of the less obvious faults which detract from the interest felt by intelligent hearers in the ordi- nary preaching of the Gospel. It is a general law of eloquence, that he who would affect others must himself be affected in like manner: according to the classical saying, If 94 The Jmpressivenes8 of Preaching. [Jan. you wish me to weep, you must weep yourself. The hearers in- terest naturally depends much upon the speakers. Nor is it enough that the preacher is intellectually excited by his subject, and by the action of his own mind: he must be religious- ly intent upon the truths he utters, or earnestly persuaded, as well as fully convinced. Hence the vital advantage of deep and fervent piety to the impressiveness of his discour- ses; and hence the advantage, in pre- paring them, of those spiritual exer- cises by which his heart is brought into closer contact with the truths contemplated, and by which he may obtain divine aid suited to the occa- sion. Religious languor, betraying itself inevitably, detracts more, per. haps, than any other cause from ef- ficiency in the pulpit. This point is often urged on the attention of young ministers, who are apt to regard too exclusively the intellectual aspects of their duties; but it is not urged too often, as every maturer judg- ment will allow. Yet, our design now is not to dwell on those gene. ral imperfections, whether of piety, learning, or discipline, which al- ways suggest themselves in this con- nection ; but rather on some of those particular faults which are more likely to escape detection, and yet often interfere with the happiest irn- med iate effect of preaching. The want of directness, alledged by the reviewer we have referred to, is undoubtedly a frequent fault in sermons. But we do not mean what some appear to understand by this term. Directness ddes not consist in using the second person of the personal pronoun instead of the third you for he, and ye for they. The text, The way of transgressors is hard, is not, of course, improved by saying, Your way, ye transgress- ors, is hard. This practice some preachers, under the notion of di- rectness, have carried into affecta- tion and a fault. It does not suit the variety that is agreeable through a whole discourse, and does not nat- urally prevail in the unimpassioned parts. By directness, we mean the evident bearing of what is said upon the hearers. it is that quality which, according to Lord Bacons phrase, comes home to mens business and bosoms. It presents the truth in such a manner as to show its rela- tion to their condition, interest, and conduct. It makes a doctrinal ser- mon practical, in the proper sense of this word,for practical sermons are such, not as distinguished from doctrinal, but as distinguished from abstruse or speculative, or dry dis- quisitions, which have no bearing on the practice of duty. There are sermons, which might as well be preached in the moon as on the earth, even if the moon is not inhab- ited. No hearer feels himself con- cerned in them. They are not for the audience; and whom or what they are for, the preacher only knows. Doubtless, a proper ser- mon is not only about some truth, but about the hearers; and in this sense, if not more formally, it is di- rected to them. So far as such a quality is wanting, they do not take the truth to themselves, nor can it make any considerable impression. It is this deficiency that renders many doctrinal sermons, as they are called, dry or uninteresting, how- ever sublime or awful may be their subjects. Irreligious men have been known to hear unmoved the strong- est propositions and reasonings on predestination and depravity, yet to stir themselves, as if parrying a blow, when the same preacher dis- coursed of paying debts. Every theme appropriate to the pulpit, is susceptible of such a use as shall engage the attention of the common people. Such a use will show its direct bearing on themselves, in- stead of leaving them to feel after an application often neither obvious nor desired. The impressiveness of preaching is often impaired by exaggerated or 1647.] The Impressiveness of Preaching. 95 unqual~fled statements and descrip- tions. Ministers are no more prone to such errors than any other public speakers, except as they are under a temptation not common to all, from the absence of an antagonist who would take advantage of the least inaccuracy. For this very reason, indeed, as well as from conscien- tious regard for the invisible Judge, many ministers require of them- selves a more rigid fairness and ex- actness in the positions they take and the arguments they employ not venturing upon the liberty which might be safely used against a com- mon opponent; just as a man of singular uprightness is likely to do injustice to himself or to his friend, in determining a question which ex- poses his judgment to a selfish bins. Still, it is no wonder, if, with the ad- vantage of their position, and being often required to discuss great sub- jects with little time for preparation, they do sometimes fall into habits of rhetorical extravagance. The dan- ger is the greater, because this very quality of composition is found to excite and attract a certain class of minds, both among ministers and laymen. It affects them as a species of eloquence, and they reckon it a merit, not a fault. They delight in confusion rather than in discrimina- tion. They are fascinated with hy- perbole. In their view, to qualify a statement is to weaken its force. In descriptions of character and life, they would use only the most vivid colors, and bring every fig~ire into bold relief. Such a tendency is common, under the want of intellec- tual discipline, and education does not always subdue it. Even when it is not congenial with the taste of the preacher, he may, in a measure, adapt himself to it, under the notion of being all things to all men. If the only effect of exaggeration were to arouse attention, it might be overlooked, though it could not be justified. But besides repelling the more judicious, it produces in other minds more or less of reaction after the temporary excitement of fancy or of passion. It is one of those ex- pedients, by which, however it may at first serve a purpose, more is ul- timately lost than gained. It tends to sear the susceptibility of an au- dience, to lower their confidence in the l)reachers sincerity or in his judgment, and impair the healthful interest they might otherwise feel in his ministrations. Such an effect may be observed in the criticism sometimes passed even upon an elo- quent preacher: I have heard him too much to be affected by him ; or, I always have to make too much allowance for what he says. Our readers may recognize the habit of which we complain, in the conversation of some persons who are not wanting in general ability or information; and they can trace it for themselves in the various de- partments of the preachers work. It is felt in the unguarded interpre- tation of the scriptures; as when disjointed fragments of inspired lan- guage are employed for purposes utterly foreign to their connection, till discerning hearers grow weary of scripture proofs. in like man- ner, Christian doctrines may be one after another detached from their mutual relations, and held forth in- dependently, till the mind ceases to repose in their harmony, and wan- ders unsettled as through a s ucces- sion of errors. We have heard a whole sermon on retributive jus- tice, in which we could not discover even an allusidn to any redemptive or gracious system; and if, in order to make a more distinct impression, every truth were thus inculcated, we are sure it would affect us either as an error, or not at all.* So, when the * The death of believers is apt to be treated as if there remained no consum- mation oCtheir happiness in the resurrec- tion of the body; and then, again, the resurrection, as if it would awake their spirits from an unconscious sleep. 96 The Impressiveness of Preaching. [Jan. preacher appears to regard the par. ticular subject before him, whatever it may be, as if there were no other, and each in its turn is found to have the same exclusive importance, the hearers at length recoil with dis- trust, and are in danger of opposing an impartial indifference to partial zeal. In his representations of hu- man depravity, he may seem to con- ceive only of sin in general, or of every sinner as only like every other, and yet too inhuman to be recogniz- ed by any man as like himself; and it would be strange if such a de- scription were not dull. In deline- ating Christian character, there may be the same want of discrimination. When the preacher would distin- guish the marks of true piety, he may overlook all degrees of strength or maturity, unconsciously aiming to enhance its worth, till his hearers find nothing answering to his de- scription, unless in favorite pieces of biography, or in their notion of an- gels. He is, of course, understood to regard himself and some of the people about him as Christians, yet others can not recognize either in him or in the church the original of the overcharged pictures presented in his sermons; and hence, they think of Christian character as a beautiful conception, scarcely if ever realized; an attainment too rare to be sought afterpossibly chimeri- cal. Thus, the representations by which he aims only to recommend piety, may indirectly abate the force of his appeals, for the want of dis- crimination between the reality and the strength of the principle.~ On the * It has been made a question whether a person may properly preach beyond his own experience. He has no right, in his preaching, to set up qualifications which he does not possess as essentisi to the character of a Christian, while still he professes that character; but certainly he may describe attainments higher than his ownfor example, Pauls, as learned from the scriptures. He is at liberty, and he ought to refer his hearers to a standard above himself. other hand, when it is remarked of a preacher, He may be depended on ; he means just what he says; we know where to find himwe think it indicates high merit. He is one of whom his hearers do not tire; whose discourses accumulate for themselves influence, and rather gain than lose, by time, the best kind of impressiveness. That preaching whether it be exposition, argu- ment, description, or exhortation which is considerate rather than hasty, discriminating rather than hy- perbolical, is for that reason the most likely to have a permanent interest for the public mind. Another thing that often detracts from the impressiveness of sermons, is the want of freedom and variety in their structure. A sound mind will not work with- out method; even the most eccen- tric genius has method in its mad- ness. Every species of composi- tion has its own laws, and we would not have preaching less methodical, or more desultory than it is. But there may be great diversity in the structure of sermons, as every hom- iletic treatise shows. They are le- gitimately of many kinds, generic and specific, each having a fit struc- ture of its own. The same mate- rials allow of endless variety in their combination. The principles of ar- rangement are as various as the laws of association and the relations of things. Every point in the whole sphere of Christian doctrine may be approached from every other, and in each succeeding instance, will ap- pear in a different light. We see no reason why a sermon does not admit of as much freedom in the plan or arrangement, as any kind of oration, whether ancient or modern. It is, in fact, the most comprehen- sive sort of oration. It is suscepti- ble of every order and style of liter- ary architecture that ought to be em- ployed, whether in the Lyceum or in Congress, or at the bar or in popu- lar assemblies 1847.] The Impressivenen of Preaching. 97 Yet ministers are themselves aware of the fact, that commonly they do not use this freedom. It must seem to them the more desir- able, because they are compelled so often to renew the work of composi- tion on the same or similar topics; yet that very necessity tempts them to move in a narrower range of method. In all kinds of work, one easily falls into the habit of doing that which must be done,often in the same way. Hence, the preacher is ex- posed to a fatal facility in the cus- tomary arrangement of his thoughts. In a long series of discourses, it is not surprising if he imitates himself. But such a uniformity, though easily accounted for, can not be thought desirable; nor is it necessary, for it is, in fact, avoided by those who take pains to avoid it. Still less neces- sary, or desirable, is the uniformity often observed between different ministers of the same school, or in the same neighborhood, when they follow some leading mind, as well in the structure of their sermons as in the structure of their theology. At one time, if a preacher maintain- ed that God is the immediate author of all human volitions, the last half of his sermon was usually a bundle of inferences from the first, under the name of Improvement.* We have heard of a district, where the preachers usually presented every subject under three heads. There has been a more general uniformity in the plan of ending every sermon with a series of paragraphs, entitled sometimes Inferences, sometimes Brief Remarks; and when the first or second has just left an im * Dr. Emmons appears to have been as tenacious of the method as of the matter ofhis discourses, and in both had faithful disciples. But we understand that he usually occl]pied the whole sabbath with one sermon, each part about half an hour, the latter, or the improvement, often ex- temporaneous, and at times coming down like a smart shower. Prof~. Parks article, prefixed to his works, is an ad- mirable sketch of a rare man. VOL. V. 13 pression powerful enough for a con- clusion, the hearers still find them- selves called off by a thirdly, or fourthly, as if nothing must be left unsaid. Some preachers always reserve their application to the end, as if there could be no such thing as a running application, even in a practical discourse. And some will never draw instructions directly from a text, but only from a proposition first raised upon it, or drawn out of it. In these respects, the sermons of the same period or generation, are distinguished also by their own prevailing usages. In the structure of sermons, as in the build- ing of churches, too much deference is had to the fashions of times and places, instead of the more perma- nent laws of taste and utility. We may know when or where, or by whom a church was built, by the fact, that it has one row of windows, or two and even three rowsa high basement for a bad lecture-room, or more properly, a mere foundahion a spire, or a cupolaa pulpit be- tween the doors, or at the end where it belongs; and we may often know as much about the origin of sermons by their textual or topical arrange- ment, their uses or inferences. Now in the instances we have no- ted, and others that will occur to our readers, we take no exception to this or that particular way of ser- monizing, but only to the exclusive or excessive use of any one among all the modes that may be employed legitimately, each in its place. Nor would we complain of such a uni- formity if it were only a habit in- dulged for the sake of facility in composition, like the fashion of ones penmanship. But it has a positive effect on the popular mind. So far as it prevails, it gives sermons a professional and technical air, which repels instead of attracting the hear- ers. It is a wearisome sameness just where, from the frequency and regularity of the occasion, variety is especially desirable. The effect The Impressiveness of Preaching. is increased moreover by the prac- tice, which deserves to be noticed in this connection, of making the plan itself too prominent through a whole discourse. All the divisions and subdivisions are studiously sep- arated and numbered as in a mere brief or analysis, and the chief points presented are announced in the beginning, and recapitulated at the end: such is the usual practice of some preachers, whatever may be their plan or subject. Now the analysis can not be drawn too accu- rately in the authors mind, but it may stand out too nakedly in the composition. The frame of a dis- course, like that of the human bo- dy, may be too sharply delineated, and the articulations left too bare for living effect if not for dissection. A single series of numbers may be convenient to aid the memories of the majority of hearers, but the preacher, in passing from one point to another, ought not to rely upon figures so as to dispense with those natural and agreeable transitions which all critics have reckoned at once difficult and important parts of composition. The discourse should be so constructed if possible, as to hang together by the inherent con- nection of its members, a whole body fitly joined together and com- pacted by that which every joint supplieth. The effect of the more artificial method strikes every mod- ern reader in the old English ser- mons, where the several subordi- nate topics, and almost the several thoughts, are drawn up and num- bered, even by scores, in most for- midable array; and so far as it pre- vails now, it makes the style of ser- monizing rigid and abrupt. Let there be all the minute accurate analysis which the earlier divines affected, yet softened and partially disguised by those just transitions to which we have alluded; and then public discourse may have the ease and flow of the best conversation. We might refer to eminent exam- pIes of this particular advantnge in the most celebrated preachers of modern times, as well as in parlia- mentary orators of the highest or- der.* In some of the discourses we have heard from time to time, we have felt the charm of the freer and less formal method, often enough to be mindful of its value; when the matter presented was not new, yet had a form and pressure of its own, instead of being cast in a mould set apart as it were for ser- mons, and the preacher moved through his subject with all the aids and none of the incumbrances of scientific arrangement. Young min- isters who will take pains in compo- sition to avoid the stiffness and uni- formity that would otherwise grow upon them incurably, will find them- selves rewarded in the freshness thus given to their work on their own part and among their hear- ers. The impressiveness of preaching is often impaired by another fault, which however pertains to the de- livery rather than the composition of sermons: what may be called false animation. We call it false, not as being hy- pocritical or insincere, but as un- true to nature and to the occasion. it is forced, instead of being spon- taneous; it is nuirde, whereas it should be born. We distinguish it from affectation in the worst sense, which all are ready to condemn, as when on a grave occasion a speak- er has no feeling, yet pretends or represents it, in order to deceive his hearers. In the cases to which we refer, the speaker may be said to have feeling, but it is got up for ElatI, Chatmers and Metvitte should be earned among British preachers. It seems to us that Burke and ~Vebster are as worthy to be studied for their method as for other reasons more frequently point- ed out. We ~emeinber a sermon on con- science, which we heard about twenty years ago with special interest in the ar- rangement as more natural and graceful than that of ordinary sermons. rjan. 1847.] The Impressiveness of Preaching. 99 the occasion; and in this sense he affects emotion. It is not difficult to conceive of such a thing as possible, nor to see how it should exist in the pulpit. In the first place, the preacher very properly aims to be a faithful work- man, and to engage the attention of the people in order that he may do them good. He is afraid lest his ministrations should degenerate into an unprofitable routine, and would fain make them in some way more effective. All this is well: but fur- ther, he may exaggerate the value of excitement in the delivery of a sermon. As a hearer he has occa- sionally felt the power of impas- sioned eloquence, and knows that the expression of deep emotion in the speaker naturally awakens cor- res~)onding emotion in the hearers. He finds that whatever appears like vivacity or vehemence or pathos, is admired and sought after, and whether genuine or spurious is reck- oned by many hearers indispensa- ide. Then he often hears it said, in a declamatory way, that of all orators the preacher ought to be the most deeply moved, that his themes are the most intensely exciti ngin their nature, and the end he purpo- ses is momentous enough to call forth all his energies of thought, feeling and utterance. Under these impressions, we may suppose, he goes about his ordinary work in the pulpit, not spontaneously excited to that degree which his sul~ject may seem to warrant, or his hearers might desire, but convinced that he ought to be so, and anxious to be- come so. The transition is only natural if he endeavors now to bring himself into that state which seems to him appropriate 01 desira- ble, or in other words to excite him- self for the occasion. On the prin- ciple that through reaction, or at least through association, emotion is itself raised through the outward ex- pression of it, the effect becoming in turn a cause, he speaks ~s if he were moved in order that he may be; using the looks, tones and ges- tures, which express all that he would fain feel. That in some such way, by the aid of imagination and favorable circumstances, a speaker may produce in himself a real and even intense excitement, is shown from the case of eminent players who, in performing violent parts, have become dangerous to their as- sociates by approaching too near to the life; and much more is such an effect possible in the preacher, with the aid of sober conviction and earnest intention. This kind of animation may be so well wrought tip as to pass for natural feeling, but generally it has an aspect of its own. It carries a certain reflective or conscious air which, though entirely proper in the pulpit, yet does not comport with the excitement imitated; and it is too long sustained, wanting the ease and almost accidental variations of a natural manner. Somehow it ap- pears to be sought after, not inevita- ble. Observing persons can not fail to recognize it in an extreme case, which yet is not rnre,as when a preacher looks and moves as if the occasion were extraordinary, while in truth it is not; seems determined to be impressive, cost what it may; lashes himself to vehemence, as he proceeds; pauses unexpectedly, or gazes intently into some part of the house; now explodes the vowel- sounds at the top of his voice, and now sinks in an awful cadence; flings out his arms, even clenches his fists; starts back, shows the whites of his eyes, throws himself at his audience ;-and all this, not be- cause he can not help it, nor yet for the sake of mere display, but be- cause he honestly aims to feel as vehemently as he acts, in order to make his hen rers feel likewise. The same Ihult, of course in an inferior degree, is chargeable to many speak- ers who would shrink from this ob- trusive e~at~ple. They cultivate, 100 The Im~messiveness of Preaching. [Jan. perhaps unconsciously, the same kind of animation. Avoiding the parade we have described, they still practice the same method of excit- ing attention, as far as it may be done without defeating their purpose by arousing the prejudices or sus- picions of their audience. They lack the ease which marks all natu- ral expression. They evidently la- bor to make what they say impres- sive by their manner of saying it, and for this purpose to speak as if they were more impressed by it than they are. Through the greater part of a discourse thus delivered, there is more or less evident a strain for effect. An air of specialty is given to what is not special. There is a morbid determination to empha- sis. Typographically speaking, the manner is in italics. Now all practice of this kind rests, we believe, on a mistaken theory concerning animation in the pulpit. The habit is acquired under the no- tions which we have already describ- ed, in regard to the excitement war- ranted by the themes and objects of the Christian ministry. But such notions appear to us partial and un- fair for the same reasons that we have before alledged against expect. ing too much effect from the preach- ing of the Gospel. They regard the Gospel itself abstractly, overlooking the circumstances of its presentation. If we think of the nature of man not merely his moral imperfection, but the laws of his mindwe have no right to require of the preacher, that he shall produce in his hearers that species and degree of emotion which the truth he proclaims might of itself seem to warrant, nor that which it might in fact produce if it were new or were seldom exhibited and for the same reason we have no right to expect such excitement on the part of the preacher, nor should he exact it of himself. Religious truth is indeed of incalculable mo- ment, but the effect it might be sup. posed to produce on the hearers, is naturally modified by the several causes to which we have before ad- verted; and the same causes must operate on the preacher as on the Christian part of his congregation. Let it only be considered that his themes, however important and in- teresting in themselves, are yet even more familiar to him than to his hearers; that the occasion on which he addresses them, however solemn, is yet as common as the Lords day, one of the most frequent and regu- lar occasions on which he is called to speak or act; and then doth not nature itself teach a certain moderation in the pulpit? Yet it is this moderation which some preach- ers endeavor violently to shake off, as if it were an apathy or coldness unworthy of the place. Instead of it, they would fain feel and exhibit all the excitement of a new theme or an extraordinary occasion, which however, will not come at their bid- ding; and hence they labor without force, and fall below nature in at- tempting to rise above it. Notwith- standing the intrinsic worth of their message, and the results that must depend on its reception, though they speak of the soul, and eternity and God, yet it is unnatural for them to speak of the same things, to the same persons, every Lords day, just as they would if these things were new or were presented for the last time; nor can they legitimately attempt to speak in that manner. The same error which misleads a preacher in such a case, misleads a class of hearers in their judgment; and we take the more interest in ex- posing it, because we believe it also runs into the notions which many persons entertain of Christian expe- rience, injuriously affecting their standard of piety, and their endeav- ors to promote it in their own hearts. Sure we are that it is no uncommon nor trivial error in the delivery of sermons, and that unnaturalness is the vice of a great deal that passes under the name of animation. 1847.] The Impressiveness of PreacMng. 101 In conceiving, however, of a nat- ural manner in the pulpit, we refer to man as he is generally constitu- ted. We mean that the animation we have described, is generally un- natural to a sound mind in a sound body. Allowance must be made for the idiosyncrasies of preachers as of other men. There are those whose emotions are susceptible and intense even to morbidness, without control from a corresponding intel- lectual activity. They outrun the sympathy of their hearers, are af- fected always, even to tears, against their will, and kindle upon the slight- est occasion by a sort of sponta- neous combustion. Others again, with a more vigorous understanding and more fertile imagination, com- bine a quick mercurial temperament, which infuses life into every look and tone and gesture, without effort or consciousness on their part. Of this class have been many orators, whose eloquence was of the most impassioned quality. When such appear in the pulpit, the depth or fervor of their emotions is often as- cribed, not to their constitutional make, as it should be, but to their supposed preeminence in piety; and for this reason, as well as for the effects they produce, their manner is held up to a young preacher as a model to which he ought to conform his own. But the envied animation of these men was essentially differ- ent from any thing that can be ac- quired by the most studious imita- tionessential ly different, because it was not acquired by any imita- tion; nor can the young preacher be bound by any dictate of piety or prudence to exhibit or to feel the same thing. Their power of emo- tion and expression was a gift for them to use, not for others to acquire. For such men, it may be natural to speak on the commonest topic or occasion as if under all the excite- ment of noveltythough even they require, from time to time, the stim- ulus of a new audience. But for the great body of preachers, including men as useful in their place, and as eloquent in their way as any that can be named, nature prescribes an- other manner. Let them speak with whatever tenderness or vehemence is in them, be it more or less, with- out attempting to generate more for the occasion. Whatever animation they may work themselves into, by special effort for that purpose, will be so far spurious. The habit we here complain of, in the delivery of sermons, we set down as impairing their impressive- ness, because, like any other viola- tion of natural laws, it must prove to be, on the whole, inexpedient, de- feating its own purpose, and tending rather to mischief than good, not- withstanding temporary appearan- ces of success; and because the ef- fect is often observed and felt to be the reverse of that which is desired. There is a class of persons, we know, in every congregation, who, either from a vitiated taste or from lack of discernment, prefer that manner which savors most of sheer excite- ment; and the more unnatural it may be, the more it agrees with the unnatural appetite which it stimu- lates. Such persons are captivated, of course, by a preacher who speaks as one that beateth the air, with the noise and violence of a man be- side himself with animation. But even they grow weary of what they run after at first. And there is in every congregation a more judicious class of hearers, who are the proper assayers of the preachers work, and with whom the coin that obtains currency among others, must pass according to its weight and quality rather than its stamp. They de- mand simplicity, and after a while others prefer it also. A spurious animation, whatever may he its first effect, does not wear well in the long run; it wears out. The very manner that was meant to be spe- cially affecting, ceases to affect; at length it wearies and repels. In- 102 The Evangelical Alliance. sensibly, it comes to be regarded by the people asa professional assump- tion, and engages their attention less than the naked truth presented only with simplicity. In general, utter- ance and gesticulation are fitted to impress the minds of hearers only as they are observed to express the mind of the speaker. No such ef- fect can be expected from what may be called his quasi emotion, or the manner that signifies what emotion he ought to feel, or would feel if he cou!d. Hence, when a young man, possessing the piety and good sense required of an ordinary preacher, does not find in himselfspringing up from his own mi~~d, in contact with his subject and the occasion that degree of animation which many of his hearers might relish, or which may seem necessary to the desired effect of his ministrations; if he asks, What shall I do? he may be answered, Do without it, rather than speak as if you felt it, or with a de- termination to excite it. The only remedyso far as he needs one is in the preparation of his heart for the work of the pulpit, by prayer and meditation on his theme: not in any endeavors, while doing that work, to stimulate himself or his hearers by outward appliances of voice and action. We ~vould fur- ther remind him, that there is an- other manner, more attainable by preachers generallymore appro- priate to their positionmore effec- tive, too, in their stated ministrations, than the animation which is so much coveted, or than even the impassion- ed delivery of Whitefleld. We mean a manner like that of Edwards and John Wesley, who were both re- markable for moving their hearers rather than for seeming to be moved themselves: the manner of a man who is for the most part calm, at home on his topic, and therefore in his way of treating it, yet soberly intent; in earnest, yet self-possess- ed; rising at times into fervor or pathos, which yet is subdued by the solemnity of his subject and the re~ sponsibility of his station. There are living examples in men less eminent, indeed, than those we have named, but among the most accep- table and successful ministers of our day; and if it were not invidious, we would name one in particular, who occupies a conspicuous pulpit in one of our large cities, and whose way of preaching is as remarkable for ease and naturalness as for salutary impression. We are not alone in thinking that another and an inferior standard of pulpit eloquence prevails extensively, not only among the people, but among those ministers who, from their position, ought to rectify instead of humoring popular prejudices. And apart from our private judgment, we have heard so many intelligent persons, both min- isters and laymen, express their dish satisfaction with what we have call~ ed false animation in the pulpit, that we believe the evil is more common than our readers might hastily sup- pose; and we are sure it is one of the causes that generally impair the impressiveness of preaching. 0. E. D. THE EVANGELICAL ALLIANCE. THE long expected meeting of the Evangelical Alliance is now a fact of history, and it remains for us, in common with the Christian world, to consider its results and form our opinion of the plans ma, tured. Our readers are already familiar with the transactions of the meeting, as detailed in the re- ligious and other journals. With- out spending time, therefore, to chronicle its proceedings, we pass

102 The Evangelical Alliance. sensibly, it comes to be regarded by the people asa professional assump- tion, and engages their attention less than the naked truth presented only with simplicity. In general, utter- ance and gesticulation are fitted to impress the minds of hearers only as they are observed to express the mind of the speaker. No such ef- fect can be expected from what may be called his quasi emotion, or the manner that signifies what emotion he ought to feel, or would feel if he cou!d. Hence, when a young man, possessing the piety and good sense required of an ordinary preacher, does not find in himselfspringing up from his own mi~~d, in contact with his subject and the occasion that degree of animation which many of his hearers might relish, or which may seem necessary to the desired effect of his ministrations; if he asks, What shall I do? he may be answered, Do without it, rather than speak as if you felt it, or with a de- termination to excite it. The only remedyso far as he needs one is in the preparation of his heart for the work of the pulpit, by prayer and meditation on his theme: not in any endeavors, while doing that work, to stimulate himself or his hearers by outward appliances of voice and action. We ~vould fur- ther remind him, that there is an- other manner, more attainable by preachers generallymore appro- priate to their positionmore effec- tive, too, in their stated ministrations, than the animation which is so much coveted, or than even the impassion- ed delivery of Whitefleld. We mean a manner like that of Edwards and John Wesley, who were both re- markable for moving their hearers rather than for seeming to be moved themselves: the manner of a man who is for the most part calm, at home on his topic, and therefore in his way of treating it, yet soberly intent; in earnest, yet self-possess- ed; rising at times into fervor or pathos, which yet is subdued by the solemnity of his subject and the re~ sponsibility of his station. There are living examples in men less eminent, indeed, than those we have named, but among the most accep- table and successful ministers of our day; and if it were not invidious, we would name one in particular, who occupies a conspicuous pulpit in one of our large cities, and whose way of preaching is as remarkable for ease and naturalness as for salutary impression. We are not alone in thinking that another and an inferior standard of pulpit eloquence prevails extensively, not only among the people, but among those ministers who, from their position, ought to rectify instead of humoring popular prejudices. And apart from our private judgment, we have heard so many intelligent persons, both min- isters and laymen, express their dish satisfaction with what we have call~ ed false animation in the pulpit, that we believe the evil is more common than our readers might hastily sup- pose; and we are sure it is one of the causes that generally impair the impressiveness of preaching. 0. E. D. THE EVANGELICAL ALLIANCE. THE long expected meeting of the Evangelical Alliance is now a fact of history, and it remains for us, in common with the Christian world, to consider its results and form our opinion of the plans ma, tured. Our readers are already familiar with the transactions of the meeting, as detailed in the re- ligious and other journals. With- out spending time, therefore, to chronicle its proceedings, we pass 1847.] The Evangelical Alliance. 103 directly to the work of review and discussion. This great convocation of Chris. tians, assembled for fifteen succes- sive days, in Freemasons Hall, Great Queen Street, London, may be viewed in two distinct lights or aspects; as a meeting of Christians engaged in acts of prayer and com- munion, or as a council assembled to deliberate on common interests pertaining to the church of God and establish permanent modes of co- operation for its different branches. In the former aspect, it exhibits a truly sublime and thrilling spectacle. Nothing like it has ever transpired in the history of our world. Viewed as an exhibition of the Christian spirit and its power to assimilate men of different creeds and nations, to melt diversities of form and sen- timent into a common feeling, to be a common impulse of brotherhood and joy which not even the barriers of language can restrain; no spec- tator from the other side of the world, can be less than powerfully moved by it. What power, there- fore, it must have had over those who were not spectators, but actors in the scene, we may easily imagine. They believed in the unity of the spirit before, but the truth of faith, held in forms of language, was so far transcended by the truth of power and feeling, that it seemed even a discovery. Love itself was a dis- covery. They poured outafulness from their hearts which they never knew was in their hearts before. Their very disagreements and con- troversies held in reserve, only made their communion more sublime, as it was closer to peril and poured it- self over boundaries and hedges in the understanding, which the heart did not know. Even the actual disa- greements, which occurred, as some woujd say to mar the beauty of the scene, only make it more beautiful to us, as they revealed, yet more convincingly, the power of Christian love and brotherhood to transcend even actual and present obstacles. Had twelve hundred Christian dis- ciples from all the four quarters of the globe, men distinguished for character and influence in the church of God, assembled, in this manner, simply to worship and commune to- gether as the servants of Christ their common Lord, it could not be said they had met in vain. Perhaps it might not have been wise to meet simply for this purpose. Had they done so, it might have seemed that so great an effort~ to get up a scene was hardly dignified. But having in view ulterior objects of sufficient practical consequence to call them together, it was good, good for them and good for all the Christian broth- erhood represented by them, to see how Christ will fuse all hearts that believe in him, in a common love and joy. In this view, and especially when we turn to consider the results of this convocation in other respects, we are glad that so large a portion of the exercises of the nineteen ses- sions of the body were of a devo- tional character. The prayers that have not come to us were undoubt- edly wiser than the speeches and deliberations that have. And the speeches, some of which were very good, had their value rather in the greetings poured out, the responses circulated, the vows pledged, than as efforts of deliberative wisdom and council. The body was, in fact, disqualified for council, by its num- bers; but that which took aivay its capacity for deliberation enhanced its capacity for a good enthusiasm and the gift of tongues, and, as it was a small Christendom ~vithin it- self, made it a more glowing sym- bol of that spiritual fire, which Christ has kindled in the hearts of his followers. That good results of a general and permanent character will flow from these meetings of the Alli- ance, taken as meetings for wor- ship and communion, we have no doubt They have made ~n experi~ 104 The Evangelical Alliance. [Jan. mental proof of the Christian spirit, such as will hereafter produce a more conscious brotherhood in all the churches of God throughout the world. Perhaps we do not know any thing which we did not know before, but it is something to see the truths we hold become a feeling and a conscious powermuch to those who know no truth as real, save when it comes as a feeling. This demonstration too, may have a degree of consequence, when ta- ken as a visible confutation of the outcry of schism, perpetually echoed by the Romish and Anglican priest- hood and all the adherents of church authority; for the interminable strifes and heresies by which they are wont to prove that private judgment is the mother of all evil, are here shown to be fictions mostly of their own creation. We say a visible confu- tationa real we have always had; for every Christian among us of only ordinary intelligence has always been aware of a radical unity among all the evangelical churches; and nothing has been easier than to show, nothing has been oftener shown, than the fact of a radical unity in their written formularies. The only difficulty has been that the priestly religions, perpetually exer- cised in what is visible, have been able to see no force or justice in our argument, because it did not address itself to their eyes. Now their eyes are accommodated. In this view, the doctrinal basis assumed by the Alliance, however much we may deplore it as the basis of a perma- nent organization, has at least some value, as an occasional demonstra- tion. There is also another aspect of this great convocation at London, which is quite unique, and in which we specially rejoice. It was a grand ecumenical assembly of laymen no, not of laymen, for that is a word which implies ecclesiastical subor- dinationbut of Christians, of disci- ples. There were no priests, no ecclesiastics, no church officers of kind in the body. They met as dis- ciples only. They came together, in their own pure voluntaryism, to speak what they believed, and feel what they would like to feel, tram- meled by nothing, save their own human infirmities. It was a new spectacle, having no parallel in the past history of the Christian world. No council ever before assembled has represented, by itself, the simple dignity of Christian love and the moral grandeur of holy principle. No bishops in their robes of office, no papal nuncios clad in the sym- bols of Gods vicegerency, no prin- ces in trappings of royalty, no mili- tary at the door, nor prison hard by where the heretics are chained wait- ing their trial, no scholastic dogmas proposed, no contests of logic, no intrigues on foot to secure some ec- clesiastical promotion, or turn the scale of ecclesiastical politicsnone of these are here; but the great as- sembly meet as Christian disciples; they confer; they pour out their hearts, they flow together in the com- mon bonds of love,acrossthe common barrier of nations, names, languages and even mutual controversies; and, after fifteen days of communion dis- turbed by no controversy, save about a question of practical humanity, in which they differ only as regards modes and incidents, they return to their homes with hearts enlarged, purposes to serve the common cause of their Redeemer fortified by mu- tual pledges and the assurance of mutual prayers. This we call, not a council of the church, but a Chris- tian assembly, and we thank God that such a spectacle has at length appeared in our world. Let the priests and princes of Christendom, let all who are wont to think that dignity consists in a show of digni- taries, look this way and gather hence, if they can, whether Christs disciples, uniting as disciples, are able to dignify their assembly, by what of grace heaven will bestow, 1847.] The Evangelical Alliance. 105 without such accidents of power and circumstance as they may contrib- ute. Or if they conclude otherwise, let them put their diplomacies at work, let them select their place, ad- just their precedences, appoint their officials, and dress out their embas- sies; let the heralds sound, on the appointed morning, and the princes and church dignitaries flow to their places, and then let them try, for fifteen successive days, what sub- ject, in ~vhat manner they please, and see how much of brotherly con- sent, of holy truth and sacred mag- nanimity, their great church council may embody; how little of petty jealousy, how few despicable in- trigues and deadly rancors. At the same time, there are evil consequences connected with this meeting at London, taken in its oc- casional aspect, which we seriously deplore. It has made a new divis- ion among the Christians of Eng- land, particularly the dissenting Christians, such as will greatly weaken the power and embarrass the progress of just that interest, in whose success we ought most ear- nestly to sympathizethe interest, we mean, of what, in England, is rather barbarously called Volun- taryism. The church of God, in England, can never be settled on any proper basis, whether of truth, or of practical harmony, until the established church, as such, is re- moved, or separated from the state. We say this, not as denying that there is much to be desired and re- vered, and abundant examples of earnest Christian piety, in the min- istry of the establishment. In our review of Bishop Brownel ls charge,* we threw off a character of the es- tablished clergy of England, that was designed to be taken as a par- tial extravaganza, answering to the charge itself, but was, in fact, taken, we believe, a little more literally than it was meant. If a closer in- 14 spection of the establishni~nt since that time, has in any respect miti- gated our judgment of its Christian merits, it has quite as much aggra- vated our conviction of its noxious power as an establishment, and of the solemn necessity that it should be separated from the civil state; as being, in that connexion, the great- est hindrance to spiritual religion and the worst inlet of error existing in the Protestant world. As an es- tablishment, it sympathizes with power more than with truth, and lives in the argument of interest more than in purposes of duty and mercy to man. Its aliment is poli- cy more than Christian love. On every form of spiritual religion, whether within or without itself, it casts a baleful shadow of discour- agement. It turns the lion frown of the realm, the compacted frown of fashion, station, wealth, law and learned ambition, against every Christian man or body, who will en. deavor to assert the simple life- giving truths of Christ and a spirit- ual faith. Every good and free thought withers under it. And, what is [lot less hurtful, it creates a false antagonism, in which power on one side, is set against truth on the other, throwing every disciple of truth off his balance and occupying his mind with animosities, when it should be occupied with inquiries. Two consequences follow, the devel- Opment of truth is an irregular, in- sufficient and distorted process, and truth, when it is found, has none of the rights of truth. Power meets it, not evidence; policy not argument; and thus, having in itself neither power nor policy, it fails of its vic- tory. Scarcely does it tend to unity; for unity can be settled manifestly on no basis but that of truth. In this view, we most deeply regret, as one of the immediate effects of the Alliance, that it has drawn off so large a body of the dissenters, from any earnest attempts upon the es- tablishment, leaving a part of their * New Englander, ii, 143. VOL. V. 106 The Evangelical Alliance. [Jan. number, alienated in feeling, to con- tend alone and perhaps with a de- gree of exasperation that will fatally hinder their success. It was on this account that the party now active against the establishment protested so earnestly beforehand against the Alliance, as a romantic and vision- ary scheme, proposing, fbr the sake of a sentimental but impracticable unity, to sacrifice an effort, in the final success of which, all practical unity lies. Most earnestly, there- fore, do we regret that our Ameri- can friends in the Alliance have al- lowed the American churches to be drawn into an apparent sympathy with the romantic party and away from the party with whom all our natural sympathies lie. Quite as much do we regret that this latter party, whose influence properly mod- erated we wanted with us in our op- position to slavery, have been thrown over, by their repugnance to the Alliance and their determination if possible to crush it, into the hands of Garrison and Wright; infected thus with a fanaticism, which will nullify their influence here, and make them exasperated against their brethren to such a degree as will weaken their as- sault upon the establishment. Where- as there ought to be a close bond of amity and mutual good understanding between us to assist the success of both. Thus, immediately after the Alliance adjourned, a great meeting was called in ExeterHall, by the leading men of the Anti-church-and- State party, to turn a tide of feeling against, and, if possible, overwhelm the Alliance. It was a vast assem- blage, filling the hall to overflowing, and was probably the most excited meeting that has been held in Eng- land for many years. Lloyd Gar- rison and George Thompson ~vere the chief speakers ; and they poured out such a deluge of scorn, as they were able, upon the English minis- ters, for having truckled to the Americans; and upon the Ameri- cans, for their hypocritical and sane- timonious support of slavery; every word charged with sentiments and opinions concerning slavery and slave-holding Christians, ~travagant and fanatical beyond all terms of reason, and echoed by unanimous applauses on the part of the assem- bly. The London Patriot, reporting the proceedings, next day, to the ex- tent of fifteen columns, records its opinion that the verdict of death against the Evangelical Alliance is here pronounced by the English people. An immediate result, there- fore, of the happy union, within the Alliance, is a great and painful di- vision without, one that can result only in serious practical mischief to a cause, in England, with which we specially sympathize, as involving the dearest interests of religion not to speak of a second division, by which the supporters of this cause are separated from us and infected with sentiments as repugnant to our better judgment, as their hostility is to our feelings. Doubtless it will be said that the dissenting members of the Alliance are not required, by the terms of their union with it, to withhold their opposition to the establishment. And truly they are not. But their moral position,the ideal that fills their mind, will withhold them as effectively as any express stipulations. If imme- diate unity is their good, in place of that remoter and more practical uni- ty, which can spring only out of the ruins of the establishment, who will be so inconsiderate as to hope that the remote will not be lost in the proximate, and every word be de- precated that can disturb the senti- mental peace of to-day? Having sacrificed their judgments to their sentiments, the practical to the ro- mantic, they will nurse the delicate illusion they have embraced, and please themselves in the hope that love will, at length, melt down the establishment without their argu- ments. how the Alliance will op- erate, in this point of view, is to be 1847.] The Evangelical Alliance. 107 seen by the course of Sir Culling Eardly Smith, the chairman, imme- diately after its formation at Liver- pool. HPhad been connected with a society designed to act against the establishment. But the first thing done by him, after the incipient or- ganization at Liverpool, of which he was appointed chairman, was to remonstrate with Dr. Campbell, one of his old coadjutors, in a printed letter, on account of his republish- ing a severe article against the es- tablishment, which he deemed an offense against the new sentimental unity just about to be. Whereupon the Doctor replied ia a somewhat furious but just castigation of his tameness and inconsistency. Som& have imagined that the union of a respectable body of the established clergy with the Alliance, is a compensation for the loss thus incurred, and is likely even to loos- en, at length, the foundations of the establishment. So far from this, it is our opinion that, if they had been hired by the Church to go out thus and connect themselves with the dissenters, thereby dividing their strength, setting them in conflict with each other, and holding a large party tn peace with the establish- ment, the operation would have been a good one. These good men of the establishment are moved we know by no such sinister design. Yet they cling to the establishment as the ark of God, and are not a whit more loosened from it by their new alliance, than they were before by their character. And as long as they can hold the Alliance together and nourish the sentimental unity it invokes, their ark is safe, even though it be to the end of the world. Truth also obliges us to say, what should not be concealed from the American churches, that the movers of the Alliance in England and Scotland are, to a great extent, per- sons who, in one way or another, were prepared beforehand to he on good terms with the establishment. Doing full honor to the good Chris- tian feeling which, as an immediate or superficial cause, prompted their desire of a more enlarged Christiaa union, we must yet say that there were deeper causes, partly negative, partly positive, disposing to the effect, with which we have the least possible sympathy. The most real and effi- cient causes are often those which lie back even of consciousness. Thus a very large portion of the Al- liance consists of members of the English and Scotch establishments. These of course are friends and up- holders of establishments. Second- ly, the Methodists of England com- pose another and very large fraction of the Alliance, and it is well known, to their brethren in this country, that they have never yet been complete- ly emancipated from the establish- ment. They take no manly, open part against itthey cower under it and can not, to this day, acknow- ledge the[nselves frankly to be dis- senters from it. Indeed they con- sider themselves to be a kind of ab- normal order under the establish- ment, and some of them read the whole Liturgy even to the prayer for our bishops, priests and dea- cons. Just before this Alliance was proposed, they were beginning to take bolder ground, and it was earnestly hoped that they were about to assume a stand worthy of their principles. That hope is dissipa- ted. They are in the Alliance as fast friends of the establishment, and so they will continue till it is dissolved. Another important por- tion of the Alliance is drawn from the Free Church of Scotland, and a large body of the members of that church are known still to ad- here theoretically to church estab- lishments. It will even be discern- ed, in conversation with them, that they are not without the hope of be- ing some time taken up again by the state and set on the footing of an established order. They are not weaned from this hope by their sue- 108 The Evangelical Alliance. [Jan. cesses. They understand so little as yet what is due to their age, and the meaning of what God is teach. ing them in their experiment, that if the government would but yield the point in dispute, they would change their way and go back to Egypt within the first six months, carrying with them the funds, which our American churches bestowed as a blessing on their voluntaryism. A few noble spirits would resist, but only a few. It will be seen that un- der the power of such affinities they were ready, of course, apart from all spiritual fervors, to be on good terms with the establishment; though doubtless it is pleasant to them all to have their ecclesiastical inclina- tions covered by a motive so pious and worthy as Christian unity. A fourth class remains, which is com- posed of English Independents, or of Baptists and Congregationalists. Of these, as we just now said, the party most thoroughly opposed to the connection of church and state stand aloof from the Alliance. Still, many of those who are in it have been known heretofore, as the partizans of voluntaryism. They so regard themselves now. But it requires a little study for American Christians to understand how liable they were to let the Christian fer- vor, indulged in their new zeal for unity, blend with a less worthy in- fluence. Thus it must not be over- looked as a fact, that a dissenting minister, as such, in England, has no social standing. He is classed with third-rate tradesmen, and can never rise above his class, except as he forces his way upward by some remarkable demonstration of talent. Meantime the lines of soci- ety are sharply drawn, and a spirit of homage to rank, little short of worship, pervades the whole com- munity. Therefore a man who feels five or six distinct layers of society resting upon him, to crush him into the earth, must be somewhat more than a man, if he would not think it a relief to be recognized by those who occupy a higher circle, and be on terms of mutual intercourse and respect with them. If ~ can es- cape all personal motives, he is tempt- ed, as a good man, by the hope of enlarging his influence. We are well aware how easy it is to impute to men motives that are latent and do not agree with their professions. But really it is not so much our de- sign to blame as to commiserate. Nothing so much afflicts an Ameri- can minister, on entering England, as to discover what a weight of so- cial depression rests upon the dis- senting ministry. It is a discovery. He pities the fact, and, though he often admires the brave spirit with which they struggle up uijder the load, feeling that he himself might be crushed by it, he is sometimes obliged to recognize, with the great. er sadness, the effects of that terri- ble oppression under which they are humbled. We have dwelt thus largely upon the relations of the Alliance to the church question, because it is the great question of England, and, in a very important sense, of the Chris- tian world. And it becomes Amer- ican Christians, before all others, to see that the influence they have is not, by any implication, lent to a movement which discourages an effort wherein the dearest interests of religion, throughout christendom, are so deeply involved. The four great classes comprised in the Alli- ance, we have seen, are composed of persons who stand in a relation, either of positive affinity with or subserviency to the establishment. And as long as they continue in this effort after unity,no matter ~vith how much of Christian fervor, it be- comes us to understand that they will assuredly make flO advance of opinion themselves, in regard to one of the greatest questions of the age, and will hinder the success of those who are struggling as with death, to achieve one of the greatest vic 1847] The Evangelical Alliance. 109 tories for spiritual religion ever at- tempted by man. Jn this view, it is much to be regretted that our Americatt~brethren did not insist upon some practical effort, or some mode of organization, that would give the Alliance a different character. It was an oversight which they will probably regret themselves. Another result of the meeting at London, which we earnestly depre- cate, is that, without having attempt- ed any thing in behalf of Protestant- ism, they have done what they could to tighten the bigotry of Protestant- ism and modernize its title to odium. It lay with such an assembly, gather- ed in such an age as this from all parts of the habitable earth, to make some demonstration of enlarged views and catholic feelings. And above all, when they came together professedly to realize the unity of the Spirit and fortify the bonds of love. Still more, when the love was so manifestly kindled to a living glow in their assemblies. And yet, they dared to love only by their creeds and catechisms. F hey could not pray and offer praise to their Re- deemer, without propositions on their table to sanctify the exercise. Not having it on hand to establish a new churchnot undertaking even to be responsible for the Christian sound- ness of their members, they must yet have a creed as a test of mem- bership. Undertaking only a spiri- tual and practical unity, they were yet jealous of the spiritual and prac- tical, lest possibly it might appear that some men are able to love God and his people, whose names and opinions they a little more disliked than they did others held among themselves. What could be more frightfbl than to think of loving God in comtnon with a pious Quaker, Catholic or tJnitarian, who might choose to come into their assembty! No doubt there may be such ; this they were obliged to confess, but they ~vere afi-aid to embrace, in love, all whom God embraces. So to make the unity of the Spirit more select, they must still go back upon their dogmatistn, making this the test and measure of that spiritual grace, which is the basis of practical unity; and then, to relieve their predica- ment, doubling its absurdity by the formal concession that it is no test at all, and that many are included who are as true disciples as them- selves. And thus they are seen to have made up, designedly and with their eyes open, a schismatic unity, subjecting thei~selves to a charge whtch does not lie against the closest forms of church ordera unity composed of one part of Gods elect, to the exclusion of anotherand this in a grand effort after the very unity of the body of Christ. The narrow- ness and odiousness of ch an or- ganization was the more felt in Eng- land, because a great number of the best and holiest men in England are found among the Quakers. There came over also from Germany, a man who had long been struggling with the bonds of delusion and the arts of priestcraft in the Romish church, and had, at length, burst forth alone, in the might of a soul armed by faith in God, to assert the liberty wherewith Christ had made him free. Baffled by the intrigues of enemies, cursed by all manner of obloquy, turning hither and thither, in vain, to find some righteous sympathy, weary and sick at heart, the news reached him of a great convocation to be held at London, where the friends of God were to meet and forget their names, and blend their common sympathies in the common burdens of their warfare. There was the place fur a lone soldier of Ch rist to rest hitriself, to gather fresh courage and he cheered to his duty by the voices of the Christian world. He came to the door of the assembly the propositions voted were offered him. Poor nan! he could not sign them all. It was not enough that he came in thc baptism of the Spirit not enough that he had b6rne more 110 The Evangelical Alliance. [Jan. hardness for the name of God than they all. He was weak, but the propositions had no pity; he was struggling alone, with his armor on, against the mightiest bulwark of er- ror in Christendom, but the propo- sitions were for them that live at ease and luxuriate in sentimental fervors. Czerski therefore with- draws; the rejected apostle retraces his steps to Germany, not, we trust, with maledictions in his heart, but with a soul of grief which only he who was rejected of men can suffi- ciently compassionate. Never was there shown by Christian men a more sad example of fatuity. We have no words to express the sorrow and shame we felt when the news of this transaction, perpetrated in the name of the Protestant world, came to our ears. Bc it that Czerski had errors great and dangerous errorsbred in such an element, who would not have? Enough that he wanted to pray and worshipand spiritual unity was afraid to pray with him. We only add, in this connection, that if the object of the Alliance had been, not to exhibit a spiritual unity, but to promote a closer doctrinal unity, the dogmatic basis assumed was scarcely less objectionable. The first thing requisite in such an effort, manifestly was to make a for- mal surrenderof infallibility; to unite in a modest confession that Protest- ant divisions indicate Protestant er- rors, therefore that every man is called upon to yield the possibility of errors in his own church and also in Frotestantism itselferrors which a better charity and a freer play of inquiry and a holier love only can remove :accordingly that when the grand result is reached, and that final basis of truth is developed, on which the church of the future is to rest in settled unity, it may be some- thing different from any scheme of dogmas now conceived, and may contain elements contributed by all Christian bodies, not excluding the church of Rome itself. To begin therefore with a doctrinal basis was to begin with the end, laying down rough timbers which may require to be torn up and refitted afterward, and thus to obstruct, at the outset, all the results intended. Not to speak of Christian philosophy, a very slight attention to the work in hand, coupled with a little practical insight, should have rectified this inversion, and proved the infelicity of a doc- trinal basis of any kind, at the be- ginning of the movement. Unhap- pily they could not conceive the possibility that there was any defect or unripeness in any dogmas which they all could draw out of their own confessions. We come now to speak of the Alliance as a council, or perma- nent organization, proposed for the churches of God, in different parts of the world. And, first of all, it is to be noted that the meeting at London was, in this view, a failure. The members after all were not able to propose any organization which should be general, or universal, but left the Christians ofdifferent nations to form separate organizations of their own. So that if any thing more is to be done we are to have evangelical alliances, not an Evangelical Alli- ance; unities, not unity. Then it is to be seen, afterwards, whether the several unities can recognize each other, or will want another formed to 1]nite them. And it is already intimated that if the Evangelical Al- liance that is to be, of the United States, admits slave-holders, the Evangelical Alliance ofGreat Britain will not touch its hand. Absurd and fanatical as we believe such a conc In- sion to be, the anti-slavery sentiment in England will assuredly compel it. 01) no other ground can the Al- liance sustain itself before the British people. And thus it appears, that if our American friends carried their points manfully in the debates on the slavery questi6n, so unhand- 1847.] The Evangelical 4lliance. 111 somely forced upon them, they did it, after all, at the expense of defeat- ing both themselves and their antag- onists and blowing the whole scheme into the air. We blame them not for this; we only wish that, forsee- ing the evil, as they did at the be- ginning, they had moved a kind of organization that would have exclud- ed the question. The great and staring fault of the whole plan, that which, from the be- ginning, was so often and earnestly protested against by sagacious men, both here and in England, is that it proposes no object, nothing practical to be done. Before the meeting at London, Dr. Chalmers published a pamphlet, addressed to the chair- man of the Alliance, in which he urged the friends of the movement by tlie most cogent and luminous arguments, such as lay within the compass of his gifted mind, to cast away their doctrinal basis and set up a practical object, worthy to unite all good men, leaving any to engage in it who can come into the spirit of the object, bear what name they will. He suggests not an Evangeli- cal, but a Protestant Alliance, and that with no articles of agreement save one, or at most twothe first a ~villingness to co-operate in all such present measures as themselves may deem advisable, for defending a purely scriptural religion against the inroads of Popery ; and second- ly, [if it is thought best] in prospec- tive measures fur perfecting and making palpable to the world that union which ought to subsist among true Christians. What these pro- spective measures looking towards a perfecting of union may be, he does n6t fuliy know, at present, and can only conjecture dimly. Possi- bly, when the members are sufil- ciently drawn together by common struggles under the first article, they may raise committees of the most judicious and capable minds, who may try their hand on theological questions and sce whether, step by step, they may not advance towards common results; and thus create, as a last fact, a doctrinal basis. But this he leaves to the future. Mean- time let the Alliance undertake a practical object under the first ar- ticle, put on the harness of toil and duty, and try what they can do for the common faith of Protestants. Here he is full and explicit. And the word Protestant which he would have them take, as a part of their title, contains allthey are to stand for Protestantismto assert and maintain the prior truth, on which all the ulterior truths to be established hang, viz. that Scrip- ture is the repertory of all truth. Vindicate private judgment and the reading of the Scripturescom- bat the advances of Romish super- stitionascertain the statistics of Puseyism and High Churchism, ~he great feeders of Popery in our island. Try the press. Awaken the pulpits? Act on she parlia- ment and the constituencies of parliament. Rouse the Protestant community of Great Britain. And more than all he insists, at large, on a general and strenuous concert of action, in behalf of the uneducated poorthat they be visited, instruct- ed, gathered into schools and chap- els; for it is among these that the Romanists are most active and suc- cessful. Thus engaged, the Alliance will have an object, which is a first rea- son for the existence of every thing; and here we can not forbear quoting him more at large Perhaps we urge them too soon; but we can not help thinking that in the con. templanon of a vague, and vast, and vo- luminous undertaking. many of them [i.e. of the Alliance] are beginning to feet at a loss how, or by what practicat means, they shatt be conducted onward; or in other words, what they shalt turn in, and how emptoy themselves next. It witt not do for the thing to evaporate, as many other magnificent enterprises have, in the mere phantasmagoria of commit- teeship and sub-coinmitteeship, wiih an imposing show of officials, and large pen- odicat assemblages, where first rate speak- 112 The EAzngelical Alliance. [Jan. ers make their eloquent demonstrations, but are sadly at fault fbr the materials of business, or how to assign an operative process by which they might advance towards the completion of the object on which they have met. Now it does ap- pear to me, that, whether they shall as- surne the title ofProtestant Alliance or not, the best way in which this felt dcsidera- tum, this want of something to do, could be met, were to engage, arid that imme- diately, in the proper work of such an association. And it isa work, too, which should come first in order, even fir the attainment of that ultimate object which suggested the Alliance. In these eloquent words, we have not only the emphatic wisdom of a broad ttnd sagacious mind, but we have also a heavy and just satire upon what is the perpetual infirmity of a large class of English Christ- ians, most forward on aH great oc- casions. They are good men, but not thinking men. Their piety gurgles in a warm flood through their heart, but it has not yet mount- ed to their head. They luxuriate in their e~notions, but are specially avet-se to the effort requisite to a thorough and sharp examination of a subject, or an undertaking. Their wisdom is to be evangelical, and whatever they may think or attempt un(lCr that name, is assumed to be ~vise. Grand assemblages and great speeches, going off with rounds of applause, are ultimate ends in them- selves. In the ordinary, i. e. in their preaching and piety, they show a syle of goodishness fitly represented by Henrys commen- tary ; in the extraordinary, they rise into sublimity by inflation and the swell of the occasion. And having, withal, a certain satis- faction in being Englishmen, they rest on the wisdom of their flatulent emotions, as confidently as if they were solid conclusions. We are truly astonished when we read over the eloquent pages of Chalmers and ponder his massive arguments, that any class of men accounted in- telligent could be unaffected by them. It seems impossible that his luminous and cogent expostula tions, should not have arrested at~ tention and opened the eyes of the Alliance to perceive the practical necessity of revising their plan. But they had thought of union, a grand evangelical union! They had met already at Liverpool, and there they had been lifted into a higher and holier sphere! The ba- sis was already laid, the name was given, and the summons had already gone forth, calling the churches of the nations to meet in London and feel ~vhat they had felt, the grandeur of union! The chapels here and there were occupied with love ap- pointments, and the day was prepar- ing! Having their eye thus filled with the prospect of a great and thrilling occasion, how could they listen to the remonstrances of wis- dom? We are able also to add, that the rock on which they split, the slavery question, was explicitly pointed out to not a few of their leaders beforehand, and a modifi- cation of their plan was suggested that would perfectly remove at~d exclude that difficulty, saving all their principles, securinrr all their objects. The suggestion visibly did not penetrate far enough to reach their understanding. Their minds were pre-occupted with the great occasion in prospect! It can not enough be regretted that this movement, begun as it was by good men, actuated by a right and good feeling, drew so little up- on deliberative wisdom and careful forecast. It was blown up by speeches, and in speeches we fear it will end. What Christian under- taking ever lived, that di(] not pro- pose to serve God in some practical object? If a man can not ?ive on sentiment, how can a body of men? Having no thing on hand to do and the day of novelty being passed, what is there left to minister emotion or sustain vitality ? Doubtless it is ~veil to circulate the kiss of charity; but we do not live for that object, and if we have not something to do 1847.] The Evangelical Alliance. 113 that shall put us in a glow and warm the kiss, it must soon he as cold to feeling as the lips of death. It was said in the meeting at Lon- don, and we have also heard the same elsewhere, both before and since the meeting, that it is even an excellence of the plan adopted that it undertakes no action; that having unity and fraternal fellow- ship for its object, it ~vill dwell in a purer and holier atmosphere, inas- much as the noise and smoke of la- bor are far away. But it is not best to go to heaven before our time, or to think that we are of course near- er to heaven, because we are pleas- ed with sentimentalities separated from duties. Besides, if sentiment is our object, by what law shall we feed the life of sentiment, and, above all, fellow sentiment, unless by a fellowship in holy struggles and com- mon perils and sacrifices? In what other way do men knit themselves together, and go clear of the narrow passions, jealousies and incipient an- imosities that dwell in their nature, so effectually, as when they become fellow soldiers in the march, the watch, or the siege. Brought to- gether into this Alliance which pro- poses only to express, feel and cul- tivate a sentimental unity, what are we but a team harnessed by the road side, wheeling upon one an- other and standing in all the flimsy attitudes of ease? The only unity we have is in the harness. But when we are put to the draught, then shall we all wheel into line, and every foot and muscle will be set in tension by the pull we are io make. This is practical unity, an earnest, sound bodied reality. It is nota a rhetorical holiday sentiment, pla~r. ing on the surface of the soul to fly away as gracefully. Born of struggle, of toil and work, it is wo- ven into the souls eternity, there to adhere and live. Besides, if we understand what Christian unity is, it Is not a thing to be compassed by any direct ef VOL. V. 15 fort. It is no contract, no treaty of peace, it does not come from far. We can not go beyond the sea and bring it back with us. We can not go up into heaven and bring it down with us. The Spirit of God will not pour it into assemblies and con- vocations, who discard that first law of existence which requires every being and thing to exist for an object. Unity is an incident, not a principal, or a good by itself. It has its value in the valuable activi- ties it unites, and the conjoining of beneficent powers. We might as well be disunited as united, if we had no ministry or service to be in- vigorated and condensed by unity. Unity therefore is the shadow of duty, and we might as well attempt to make shadows without substances as to create unity by itself. The more we seek it, the less we have it. We find it, as we find our life, by losing it. No two men are closer to a quarrel than they who are drawn back into some alley deba- ting terms of agreement and defin- ing rights and injuries, under pro- testations of desire for peace. Let theni drop into the boat from a sink- ing ship, and share the common for~ tunes and perils of shipwreck; and they are soon fast friends. And the fortune of all attempts hitherto made to settle a unity between Christian teachers and sects, by a process of defining and compounding and sift- ing out divisions of feeling, answers to this comparison. The church of God can never reach a solid and established unity, until it goes into some grand practical struggle, and girds on its armor for some enter- prise large enough and perilous enough to absorb, as trifles and fa- tuities, the oppositions gendered by idle theory and adverse effort. The prior, as Chalmers intimates, nmst precede, the ulterior must followfirst the substance, then the shadow. But if we go after a sen- timental unity, if we go Qut cours- ing over the world and back and 114 The Evangelical Alliance. [Jan. forth between nations to bring back shadows, we shall assuredly find, when we open our boxes, that they are gone. Furthermore, we can not but re- gard any effort undertaken to pro. duce unity, by direct intent, as dan. gerous in proportion to the power it is able to embody. We distrust great bodies of men, especially when they have nothing to do, no active aim and object to limit their proceedings. No matter what name they assume. Be it an Evangeli- cal body in which they unite, still they are men under the name. And they are as likely to meddle in that which does not belong to them, the creeds and constitutions of churches, their religious doctrines and opinions, their relations to each other, and the fidelity of their mem- bers, as they are to get power tG do it successfully. We can not detail the crotchety fancies which we have seen creeping through the brains of some of the English members of the Alliance, probably the weaker memberssuch as that it will by- and-bye undertake a new and per- fect translation of the Bible, become a tribunal of love for the adjustment of quarrels, and finally of all dis- agreements. Of this we make little save that straws ~vill sometimes in- dicate a current, when rocks will not. Enough that the Alliance be- gins with laying down a doctrinal basis, a platform, which every mem- ber has some indistinct hope may hereafter be enlarged. Nor is any thing more certain to us, than that such a society, as soon as it may embody a large and preponderant influence, burning in every mem- ber after unity and bent on dispel- ling diversity, will begin to reflect odium on intractable ministers and churches, to suggest formularies, to show what may be held and what given up, and where is a good place for the world to meet. A sense of power yields to no limits prescribed by mere forbearance. When power has a desire, it will also be found that desire has a power. It was precisely this view of the Alliance which made it so obnoxious to Arch- bishop Whately. He foresaw that it would disturb the internal order and law of the church of God and thus become an instrument of mis- chief. He was right, also, in the opinion that God wants no tribunal out of the Church to preside over it or reform it. At present, we know that the views of the Alliance are more modest. And if it be said that no such preponderant influence in the body, as will create the liabil- ity we speak of, is ever to be hoped for, it is no satisfactory argument for the plan that it never can be powerful enough to be dangerous. There is likely also to be found, in any direct effort after unity, a false assumption, in regard to the extent and the evils of division, which, if the effort be long contin- ued, will harden itself into a fixed conviction, and will thus create a public dishonor for the body of Christ, without preparing a remedy. The strongest representations will be made continually of the strifes that divide brethrendiverse names and families in the church of God will be set forth as radical divisions, and all the false imputations raised by scoffers and infidels will be set forth as accepted truths. Some of the speeches made on this head, in the meeting at London, were ex- ceedingly shallow and mischievous. The main thing is now and ever has been to unsay exactly what is said in all such representationsto main- tain that we are united. Half the division that exists is made by say- ing that we are divided, where be- fore we were not. The tongue is the fire, and if we had no tongues wherewith to talk ourselves into en- mity, we should have no enmity to talk of. Not that we should have the complete love of angels. There must be so much of discord as there is of sin. Whoever holds a differ- 1847.] The Evangelical Alliance. 115 ent expectation, contradicts Chris- tianity instead of doing it honor. He demands a super-Christian urn- ty, requiring it of man, as a Chris- tian, that he will act, under grace, as if he wanted neither grace nor forgiveness. Besides, most of what we call division in the church of God is only distribution. The dis- tribution of the church, like that of human society, is one of the great problems of divine wisdom, and the more we study it, observing how the personal tastes, wants and capacities of men, in all ages and climes, are provided for, and how the parts are made to act as mutual stimulants to each other, the less disposed shall we be to think that the work of dis- tribution is done badly. Neither is there, after all, any so bitter ani- mosity between Christians of differ- ent names, as there often is between those who worship together, and who only feel the more cordial disaffec- tion, all their lives long, because of their proximity. And so little is there of unity often, where there is most of it in name, that within the church of Rome, which taunts us daily with our divisions, there are really more sects and a greater num- ber of deadly feuds, all kept alive by the jealousies and rivalries of the ecclesiastical orders and the am- bitious strifes of convents, of bish- ops, abbots and cardinals, and of those who seek to be either one or the other, than within the whole cir- cle of Protestantism. Therefore any society whose object is unity only, and whose interest therefore it is to exaggerate and misconstrue all the signs of division, is very nearly certain to make more division than unity, and to throw upon the wise distribution of God dishonors which are only figments (if not realities) of its own creation. Bitt we must manifest our unity, it is said by those who can take a deeper and juster view of the sub- ject. We want a society, they say, not to create unity but to exhibit the unity which really exists. What then do we manifest now, but ex- actly all we have to manifest, nei- ther more nor less? Doubtless some men, in the exercise of their malignity, or because they are too shallow to judge us rightly, do us injustice. Shall we therefore set up a fiction of love to balance their fic- tion of malignity? This setting out to make manifestations of ourselves artificially will be looked upon, by every thciughtful person, as a rather delicate business. The man ~vho has nothing better to do than to man- ifest what he is, is very sure to man- ifest just what he is not. It is our affair to have the virtue Christ re- quires of us; for the manifestation of it he has provided fixed laws of his own, and he will take care of that. If we undertake to shine over and above being luminous, we have much upon our hands, and it is ques- tionable how we may get on. And it is exactly here that we have a heavy charge to bring against the Alliance. Take up for example the ninth article of its doctrinal basis, which asserts The divine institution of the Chris- tian ministry, and the obligation and per- petuity of baptism and the Lords Sup- per. Having it on hand to manifest a unity not before manifested, it gravely comes before the world with this united declaration, hold- ing it forth as sign of unity. It is accidentally possible that they can agree, in these forms of words, but every one knows that the moment the words are penetrated and the thin covering of a mere logical statement is torn off, they are seen to be in radical and irreconcilable disagreement! They can not agree whether a Christian minister is a priest or not a priest, or what is the power and duty of a Christian min- ister, or what creates a valid minis- try, or who is to be recognized in the ministerial office! There are ministers, in the assembly itself, 116 The Evangelical Alliance. [Jan. who will never, by any public act, acknowledge or advise their people to acknowledge any one act per- formed by others present, as a valid ministrationsuch too as will ear- nestly deny the Christian right of any ministry not in three orders and not derived from Episcopal ordination! So in regard to baptism, they can not agree, either in regard to the significance, or the effiacy, the subjects, or the manner of bap- tism! One sect represented in the meeting has actually withdrawn from the others represented in it, on this very ground, and will not even go to the table of Christ in their company, or suffer them to come to their own! If we speak of mani- festing unity, we ask whether this kind of manifestation is fair? We impute no disingenuous design to the meeting; we have the greatest confidence in the simplicity of their intentions and the purity of their aims; nevertheless their zeal for unity has even betrayed them into an act, not of real but of construc- tive hypocrisy! And the same may be said, though with less em- phasis, of all the nine propositions adopted by the Alliance. The mo- ment we open up the words to ask for the substantial ideas under them, a considerable and often important diversity is discerned. All these general propositions, therefore, when offered as a manifestation of unity, (which they are not when adopted by churches,) become unfair, inas- much as they do not represent the whole case as it is. And, in this light, they are liable to serious ob- jections. The real fact as regards unity, is better manifested, and more truly, without them than with them. We say again that whoever undertakes an artificial mnnifesta- tion of good of any sort, has a del- icate business on his hands. Indeed we do not see why a society to manifest humility, or patience, or faith in God, is not as truly within the limits of propriety, as a society to manifest unity, a grace which in- cludes them all. The only way to manifest unity is to have it and let it manifest itself. We could have some sympathy with a society to cultivate and exercise unity, but with one to manifest unity. we frankly say we have none. Least of all have we any sympathy with such a kind of unity, as thinks to be manifested in nine propositions. It is not the same thing as Christian unity to be huddled into a small en- closure, or to show the world how small a plat of ground we can all stand upon. Unity is a grace broad as the universe. Like the universe itself, which is its outward type, it embraces, in its ample bosom, all right minds that live, outreaching the narrow content of all words and dogmas and even worlds of being. It is a boundless feeling, which, therefore, is not representable in opinions, or forms of speech, or ut- terances of any kind. rJ7here is yet another view of this doctrinal basis, which, we suspect, is, after all, the true reason for its adoption; for it is remarkable how vague, and various, and inconsist- ent are the conglomerated notions embodied in the Alliance and ex- pressed by its members. It was necessary, it is said, to have some definite terms of member- ship, otherwise persons would come into the Alliance, with whom it would injure the Christian comfort of the greater part to associate. In this view, the doctrinal basis is laid down not to manifest unity, but to produce separationit constructs a gulf, not a continent. By what law the~n are these nine propositions selected? Is it because they mea- sure and determine Christian char- acter? rphat is not pretended. Is it because ihey measure and con- tain the truths essential to the effi- cacy of the Gospel as an instrument of the worlds regeneration? What then does the Baptist think of im- mersion ; the Establishment, of three 1847.] The Evangelical Alliance. 117 orders of clergy; and a large body of dissenters, of the independence of the church as related to political patronage and power? Do they thea pick up certain convenient truths, in which they happen to agree, and lay them down, in arbi- trary measure, apart from any prin- ciple of classification whatever, save that they will keep out certain persons selected or singled out for this doom beforehand? Undoubt- edly this latter question opens the truth of their proceeding. They have laid down these nine proposi- tions simply because they would, not because they are fit measures, whether of character, or of essen- tial truth. They have used princi- ples as mere conveniencies to their own will, and because the principles would serve as pickets for just the fence they wished to build! To argue the question, whether this be a fit or even dignified use of prin- ciples, would be itself an abuse of principle. Besides, it is proposed, in this Alliance, to unite the great brotherhood of Christ, not to com- pose a church; and here the Chris- tian law pertaining is that which determines the recognition of stran- gers. For strangers are to be test- ed, not by the creed or catechism they bring with them, but by the living epistle written in their heart; for that is a certificate, which may be known and read of all men. If a stranger remains in England for months or years, what Christian even asks him for his creed to know whether he shall be recognized as a disciple? Still further what right has any Christian body, striving af- ter the unity of the spirit through- out the world, confessedly to break that unity, by an arbitrary selection, turning Gods principles into fences against those who are inhabited by His spirit ? Is it then obligatory on such a body, it will be asked, to go into a promiscuous herd with all who choose to assume the Christian name? We admit the inconve nience to feeling and even to order, which would probably ensue. In- deed we could wish to have the body more select than it is now. Nor is there any the least difficulty in making it so. It is only requisite to give up the idea of spiritual unity, as a law of organization, and give the body something to do. For it is even easier to exclude the unwor- thy by appointing objects, exercises, and duties, in which they can have no sympathy; than it is to do it by confessions or terms of belief, which every one knows will admit those who are without a trace of Christian piety, or even a character of common respect among men. By their fruits ye shall know them, not by their dogmas, or opinions. Select doings are a closer test thaa select propositions, and are withal, in better keeping, as a test, with Gods teachings and command- ments. Here again we come back to what is the radical sin of the Alliance, viz, that it began with hav- ing nothing to do. Beginning with no practical object, it was obliged to organize itself by tests not found in practical character. Whereas if it had appointed itself to some right undertaking, and to exercises, such as the unbelieving and evil will not relish, it would have had a sufficient test in its works. Nor would it have committed, in that case, any wrong or injury, even if it had know- ingly excluded by its terms of action, some who are believed to be disci- ples; inasmuch as it would not have proposed to measure itself by the uni- ty of Christs body, but simply by the objects undertaken and the exercises appointed. We shall recur to this point again, in another place, and therefore we add nothing farther here. The practical question now arises, having all the objections in view, what course ought the American churches to adopt in regard to the proposed Alliance? Shall we en- [Jan. 118 Tue Evangelical Alliance. deavor to organize a national branch, as proposed by the meeting at Lon- don? We are very reluctant to answerno; because the refusal may seem uncourteous, and because we sincerely regret to have so much of expectation disappointed, so much of preparation fall to naught, and so much of really good feeling excited in Christians of so many different and distant nations thrown back into despair of its object. But we can not, as American Christians, lend ourselves to any movement which, directly or indirectly, fortifies the church establishment of England. We have stated other objections that are insuperable, except on condition that we renounce our better judg- ment and what, in fact, we regard as sacred principles- Besides, it is very clear that we can organize no American branch that will be ac- knowledged by that of England. There is too much good sense among the Christians of this country to think of constituting an Alliance on a basis which denies Christian char- acter to all slaveholders. At a fu- ture time, when slavery has been discussed long enough to have laid open its merits, and the principles against it have been fully carried, on the ground of slavery, so that whosoever continues to hold slaves may be fairly presumed to violate, and to violate knowingly, the first principles of humanity, then we shall be ready to deny them the Christian name, and withhold our communion. We can not do it now least of all can we do it at the dictation of brethren beyond the sea, who do not understand the question, and are themselves governed by the dictation of a blind and fanatical spirit in their countrymen about them, and not, as they suppose, by Christian humanity,that which is. willing to judge harshly only when it is sure of judging justly. But if we organize a branch so as not to exclude slaveholders, it is very plain that they will reject all connection with us. They are, in a manner, compelled to it. They can not face the odium of the English nation, so as to hold an organization among themselves, without taking this ground. The sentiments lately de- clared by Dr. Wardlaw, and what is more, the manners exhibited in his language are, beyond all doubt, a just representation of the attitude that will be assumed by the English branch of the Alliance on this sub- ject. The American brethren, he says, are on trial. If they in- troduce slaveholders, the repudiation of their deed will then become our duty, and separation from those by whom the pollution has been wilfully contracted. It will be ours to say, with sorrow but with firmness,You have done what we can not recog~ nize or toleratewe part. If, then, we wish to throw ridicule upon ourselves, and bring the very name of Alliance into contempt, let us or- ganize an American branch, and then let this grand effort for unity result in the spectacle of two dis- tinct Alliances, one of which refuses to acknowledge the other! What, then, shall we do? Our proposition is that we begin at the beginning, and do what ought to have been done at the first, proving the sincerity of our wish to engage with our English brethren, by setting ourselves in such an attitude that, seeing the superiority of our plan, it may be hoped that they will fi- nally modify their scheme to accord with it. We have a society called the Christian Alliance, which has been modestly held back until this time, with a view to give the English brethren that prominence to which their central position might be sup- posed to entitle them. This Chris- tian Alliance is really the parent of the whole movement,unless some dis- cussions which had been held in Eng- land and Scotland, on the subject of Christian union, but which had in fact come to nothing, may be supposed 1847.] The Evangelical Alliance. 119 to have prepared the minds of certain persons there to take a suggestion the more readily. Only it happens that these previous discussions have, in fact, wrought all the mischief we deplore, by turning the minds of cer- tain leaders in a false direction, and away from all that constituted the merit of the American plan. This plan was commended privately to their attention, with a suggestion of modifications, such as we shall now propose. They took enough of the name to spoil it, and rejected every thing else, to go after the bubble of union, with nothing on hand to sustain the life and dignity of the undertaking, but to unite the breath of the Christian world in the infla- tion of the bubble. Our American plan, with somewhat of American good sense for its characteristic, pro- posed to rally the united action of the Christian world, in a demand for religious liberty in Italy and other papal countries. And by this con- joint action it was hoped that Chris- tians might be drawn more closely towards each other, and united in the bonds of a more conscious fel- lowshippossibly that all the disa- greements which now exist, might be finally removed. In its philo- sophic reasons, it coincided exactly with the plan suggested by Chal- mers, and differed only, by a shade, in its specific object. What we now propose will embody the plan of Chalmers, the American plan, and what can be embodied in coinci- dence with these, of the plan adopt- ed at London. We propose then to organize not a Protestant Alliance, but a Chris- tian Alliance; for although our scheme will look towards Rome, in its aim, we prefer to array no con- flict bet~veen names. Let it be as broad as the world and as open to the Catholic, who can adopt its ob- jects, as it is to the Protestant. Let the constitution begin with a pream- ble, if it is thought best, which shall set our body in a friendly, but intelligible relation to the English.* Then lay down a basis of action in a specification of three objects 1. To promote by every means consistent with a due respect to the civil order of states and nations, re- ligious liberty; or the right of every man to have the word of God and to govern his faith and practice by it, clear of all penalties and constraints. 2. To assert the supreme author- ity of the Scriptures as the law of all duty and the final arbiter of religious opinions,doing what may, at any time, seem expedient in the way of argument and moral influence, to resist the encroachments, or con- vince the adherents and advocates, of any system of religion which ac- knowledges the co6rdinate authori- ty of church councils and trilsinals. * Such for example as the following: Convinced that no settled unity is pos- sible, in any part of the body of Christ, when taken by itself and separately from the church, nor in the church, save as the members are able to meet in the truth, and that they can meet in the truth only by a common acknowledgment of the Scriptures, as the source and final ar- biter of truthwhich also involves as a previous condition the universal freedom of the Christian mind and the discontinu- ance of all force upon the conscience; considering also that truth is practical and can not be found as separated from dutyand therefore that common strug- gles arid sacrifices to advance the common cause of our Lord Jesus Christ, having a natural power to assimilate the feelinbgs, are among the preparative causes inhe- rently requisite to assimilate the doctrinal views of believerswhich common strug- gles need also to be maintained by com- mon acts of worship and prayer to God, who is to our fallen nature the source of all right thoughts and dispesitions, as he is of all power and success in righieous endeavors; considering also that a perfect and settled unity of believers is a last fact and final result of the gospel, and should not therefore be anticipated, by any articles of faith or doctrine assumed as a basis of agreement, but must come in its own order and time, as God shall appoint, requiring possibly important mod- ificai ions in the views of all Christians, which ought therefore to be suffered with all candor and should not be excluded by formal prejudgments recorded at the be- ginninr Weibe undersigned, & c. 120 The Evangelical Alliance. [Jan. 3. To accompany our efforts for these objects, by acts of fellowship and prayer, and by whatever exerci- ses may be fitted to promote the unity of the Spirit in our assemblies, or to obtain for ourselves that Divine illu- mination which is necessary to make us understand our errors, and for all who have corrupted the gospel, that spiritual grace which will incline them toa true reformation ; sothat we and they may, at last, meet in a set- tled unity, under Jesus Christ our Divine Lord and Redeemer, Then will follow the machinery of the organization, including, per. haps, a declaration that we do not propose to be responsible, either for the character, or doctrine of those who engage with us. Aceording to this plan, it will be perceived that we settle no basis of unity whatever, and have in fact nothing to do with unity, save as a result in such shape and measure as God may vouchsafe to us. Great truths are assumed, as they must be in all action, but only assumed in the active shape. Objects and ex- ercises are, in fact, the tests of mem- bership, no one being excluded by any judgment passed on his charac- ter, formally or by implication. Any one may come, under what name he pleases, who can sympathize with our objects. If any one is appre- hensive that Quakers, Unitarians, or Roman Catholics, may sometime in- trude upon us, their apprehensions are without any Christian reason. lf they come, we should rather rejoice and thank God that they do. As Chalmers truly says, the atmos- phere is ungenial insomuch that they will either keep away, at the first, or if not assimilated to the gen- eral body, will fall away afterwards, alike repelled by the style of the prayers within and of the perform- ances without. Still if there be any Quaker who can admit the final authority of Scripture, any Unitarian who can think that this is not a cant- ing assembly, any Roman Catholic who wants religious liberty and a scriptural reformation in his church, and can stay with us, and pour out his heart with us in love, we may be sure that there is no so bad an error in his faith, ~s to make him danger- ous, whatever his words may be. Then as to slavery, that is put in its right place and where it can make us no difficulty; for the pro- posed society, though not in form or name an anti-slavery society, must necessarily throw all its influence against slavery as truly as against ecclesiastical oppression. And it has this advantage, that it stands against just those aspects of slavery, which are most plainly hostile to the gos- pelits locking up the Bible from the poor, the obstacle it opposes to the free and faithful preaching of Christ, its destructionofsabbaths and of marriage and the rights of chas- tity, its abolishment, in fact, of all the rights,of God in man as a re- sponsible creature and a redeemed sinner. The whole weight of the society here and throughout the world will fall upon slavery not less than upon the Papacy; inasmuch as they agree, in the destruction of Christian liberty. And it may be well both for the Pope of Rome and the upholders of negro slavery,to find themselves standing out before the ~vorld together, as partakers in acom- mon outrage on the rights of God. This excellence of our plan, as an expedient to relieve the slavery ques- tion, was suttgested to many of the movers of the Alliance in England, but they could not hear it. Per- haps they will now see its import and value. Had we been in the Alliance with our American breth- ren, when the question of slavery was brought into that body, we should have felt as they, did, in re- gard to the manner in which it ap- peared and the sentiments advanced. We should most of all have regret- ted, as we are sure they did, the ne- cessity of maintaining a position, which could not be understood by I847~] The Evangelical Alliance. ~21 the British people, and must leave an impression on their mind, in spite of all disavowals, that we have no hearty opposition to slavery. In- stead however of meeting the ques- tion as they did, we should have moved, first of all, a revision and reconstruction of the whole scheme of the Alliance. Failing in that, we should, at least, have shown the English public what we are wil- ling to do, in reference to slavery; and then we might take the ground they held, with impunity, though not with more of Christian dignity and manly ability than they displayed in the trying circumstances of the case. We do not propose however, in this movement for religious liberty, to invite the efforts of our English brethren here against slavery. We have too little confidence in their knowledge of our condition and the correctness of their opinions gene- rally on the subject of American slavery. They must consent to let us manage the question, in our own way, and support us from behind with the moral weight of their con- fidence and sympathy. At the same time, if any of our fellow Christians from the South will join us, (as they certainly will in due time,) our arms are open to receive them. We want their counsel, we invite their support and their prayers. Beginning as an American Alli- ance, we must commence our ope- rations by ourselves, standing ready to communicate with the British Al- liance, or with any society that can sympathize with our objects; hoping that our brethren, in Europe, will first acknowledge us, then sympa- thize with us, and then, if they see it to be ~vise, act with us. Mean- time we see no reason why they should not, but rather every reason why they should. There is nothing in the condition of the German churches, or in their relations to the state, to prevent. There is every thing in that of the Swiss to make them desire it, though, VOL. V. 16 at this present moment, it might not be safe to engage with us. They will the more desire us to go on, with our utmost energy. Our breth- ren in France want exactly this to fortify their position and open their way to success. In England, saying nothing of the friends of the Alli- ance, those opposers of the establish- lishment who now deprecate the Alliance, will heartily unite in our plan; for though it does not propose to touch the establishment, yet nei- ther does it withdraw them from their purpose; on the contrary it has the free spirit in it, and with that they sympathize. Shall we find any countenance within the es- tablishment? We ought to find it though we may long fail of it; for though nothing, in our opinion, can save the establishment, something may be done to save the church and nothing, with so much of prom. ise, as what we propose. The in. stincts of the Anglican church are conservative. But the true conser- vatism, the only possible conserva- tism, as Sir Robert Peel has had the sagacity to discover, is motion. Mo. tion is the conservative principle of all things; without this, the purest waters stagnate, and we know not but that the stars themselves would rot in the sky. And what is want- ed now, above all things, in the An- glican church, is that the party of motion should be resisted by motion. When the ever busy agents of Rome are filling England with their schemes of aggression, when all the active power and genius of the church is engaged to Romanize the church, when most of the young men who are going into livings from the universities are going with a passion for candles and strait-breast- ed coats and the decrees of coun- cils, when the public are looking for the inaugural of a new Roman Cath- olic establishment, the restoration of monasteries in England, and the re- newed processions of the host, it is not bishops charges counselling 122 The Eva