THE NEW ENGLANDER. No. XXI. JANUARY, 1848. CHURCH BUILDING. f THE Puritans were a peculiar people, not only in the sense in which the apostles affirmed as much of Christians generally, because they were among Gods own redeemed servants, but according to the sense often imputed to the phrase, as be- ing obviously singular or different from the multitude. It could not have been reasonably expected of men in their situation, that they would be equally judicious in all the particulars about which they were precise and rigid, nor that all their scruples would alike commend them- selves to the imitation of their pos- terity. In some things we can easily see that their very position made them antagonistic, and prone to ex- tremes. It is a fruit of the essential Puritan spirit inherited from the fathers of New England, that their descendants, instead of clinging with blind tenacity to all the traditions received from an ancestry of which they rightly boast, make use of the freedom they obtain from the same source, adapt themselves to their own times, and modify their opin- ions and usages in some measure according to their opportunities of advancement. Thus our fathers are known to have differed from the established church of England not only in certain impor VOL. VI. I tant matters of doctrine, polity and discipline, but in regard to ecclesias- tical architecture also; on which sub- ject we believe their real vie~vs have been misrepresented and misunder- stood, while at the same time we can not adopt them as the model or ex- ample of our own. They entertained scruples about names as well as things. Their houses of worship they would not call churches, nor was this name popularized among their descendants in New England even within our memory, if indeed it can be said to be so at this day. But as a part of the British people, yet dissenters from the two national es- tablishments, they were obliged to relinquish a name legally appropri- ated to the edifices used by those ecclesiastical bodies, just as now in England all houses of worship other than Episcopal, and in Scotland those whichare Episcopal, are not called churches, but by way of dis- tinction chapels. Apart from this necessity however, they objected to such an application of the word ckurch, and not without grave rea- sons. It is not the scriptural name of a place of worship, but rather of a worshiping assembly, a congre- gation of faithful men, or of all such congregations collectively consider- ed. And so generally is it used to 2 Church Building. [Jan. denote the spiritual house, that when applied to a material edifice it must be expounded by the con- nection it stands in, and sometimes creates ambiguity. But in rejecting this term the non-conformists were not happy in providing a substitute. They fell upon a compound awk- ward at best, and doomed to be con- tracted and corrupted in frequent use into meetin us. On grave occasions which allow of longer phrases, the difficulty has been ob- viated by the use of those scriptural expressions which have always been employed more or less among all Christians, the house of God, the Lords house, and the sancluary This last term, or perhaps the word temple, more familiar to us in Jewish than in heathen usage, should have been employed rather than any mod- ern compound, as being at once ap- propriate, specific, brief and ele- gant; and either of these terms might have retained a paramount place in those communities where it had been once established. We admit, however, that it was not wise to attempt to displace a name at once sacred and popular among the greater part of all who speak our mother tongue, for no better rea- sons than its occasional ambiguity and the want of scriptural precedent. To call a house of worship a church, if not scriptural nor entirely une- quivocal, is yet emphatically Eng- lish. There are still Congregation- alists who from habit or deference to the fathers prefer the awkward compound, and there are religionists of other orders who like to perpetu- ate it by way of reproach against all Protestant churches except their own.* For ourselves, when we * Thereby bangs a tale- In a certain place a Congregational church stood be- tween another of the same order and an Episcopat edifice. A minister in the lat- ter received a notice to be read from the desk, of some public meeting during the week in tbe Center church. In his young zeal he concluded, against the ad- vice of another minister, to read it, the would be brief, we are content to call every place of Christian wor- ship, a church, with or without the consent of the fathers of New Eng- land, or of their traducers. But ye have more to do now with things than names. Houses of wor- ship in Ne~v England, as in other parts of this country, are known to have been from the first plain build- ings, more remarkable for the good servtce rendered in them to God and man, than for sumptuous deco- rations or architectural beauty. As a part of the historical view that ought to be taken of the topic pro- posed in this article, we would briefly advert to the opinion and practice of the people of New England in early times, or before the present century. As we said before, they have been misrepresented, and misunderstood on this subject. By some they are supposed to have set themselves in prejudice and opposition against the idea of any other church-architec- ture than such as was absolutely necessary to accommodate an audi- ence within four walls; but this was not true of the Puritans, though it may have been of the Quakers. They did not employ the most costly nor the most substantial materials, nor follow the most approved mod- els of proportion, nor in any way aim chiefly at the most imposing ef- fect; but this was a matter of course in a new country, among people who were laying the foundations of new commonwealths, and whose most urgent care was the defense, subsistence and nurture of their chil- dren. No people, in such a condi- tion, build stone cathedrals to be wondered at by their posterity. The houses of worship in New England from the earliest period might be favorably compared with structures of the same kind, and of even later Center meeting-house. What have you been about, said the other, after the ser- vice, calling our church a meeting-house for it must be one if the other is the cets- ter meeting-house. The dilemma was candidly acknowtcdged. 1848.] Church Building. 3 date, in the southern colonies, and in the Canadas too, where the pre- vailing religion, so far as religion prevailed at all, was of a type op- posed to Puritanism. When their resources are considered, our fathers are found to have been liberal in expenditures of this sort. They built not only for themselves, but as far as the materials they were able to employ would suffice, for their descendants. Many of the old par- ish churches, such as stood within the memory of the present genera- tion, and even yet survive, were larger than most of their successors, and constructed of huge beams and rafters, that modern workmen would call a waste of timber. The wood was sometimes brought from a great distance, and selected with care and cost. Hence those structures often lasted longer than many modern brick churches, which have to be taken down before they would fall of themselves on account of some crack in the wall, or because they are out of fashion. And it should be ob- served as honorable to those times, that the house of God was more costly than any private dwelling. The same thing can not be as gen- erally affirmed now. The chief men studied the Old Testament too much to leave any of them content to say, I dwell in an house of ce- dar, but the ark of God dwellcth within curtains.~ Yet it is un- doubted lv true that the laws of taste in this department were then too little considered or understood. The same care and expense would have been bestowed more wisely, if more regard had been had to approved models either in classic or Gothic architecture. We are willing to admit also, that on this subject their judgment lay under a certain unnat- ural bias. Having taken an atti- tude in opposition to the prevuiliug party in the church of England in regard to more important points, * 2 Sam. 7: 2. 1 Chron. 17: 1. they were predisposed to differ from them also in opinion and usages on matters of inferior moment, and among other things in the structure and arrangement of houses of wor- ship. There was some need too of innovation and reform in this matter. The old English churches were not as convenient as they ought to have been for the purposes of wor- ship and instruction. The cathe- drals especially were fitted, as in fact they had been designed, for popish rather than Protestant use for seeing the ceremonies of the Romish church, rather than intelli- gently worshiping God and hearing his word even according to the usa- ges of the English church since the reformation. Their magnitude and arrangement show them to have been products of the old supersti- tion, since they would iever have been demanded for th~ purposes of a purer faith. The world may ~vell congratulate itself on the possession of such architectural wonders; for ourselves if we were permitted of- ten to see them we could heartily honor the memory of their ancient builders for the pleasure afforded us by those fruits of their mistaken zeal, and we would have more en- lightened generations religiously pre- serve the edifices which we could not justify them for now erecting. At the same time we can not resist the conviction that in these instances costly magnificence was in excess; that the arts of decoration transcend- ed the limits prescribed by the sim- plicity of the Christian institutions, and that the sublime effect thus sought was disproportioned to other more spiritual and benevolent aims. There was, therefore, as we have said, some need of reform in this matter of church building where a pure and vital Christianity was to be reinstated in the minds of the com- mon people. We acknowledge, however, that many of the Puritans were misled by their position beyond this legitimate design, into lower and 4 Church Building. [Jan. narrower notions. Their antipathy to an ecclesiastical establishment whose usages they properly regard- ed as still impregnated with too much of the old leaven, and whose tyranny they had felt with righteous indignation, made them jealous even of things accidentally associated with that establishment. Cooper in one of his novels says, that from their anxiety to differ from the commun- ion they had left, they made their church-windows as nearly as pos- sible like those of private houses. Whether this be so or not, some such motive seems to have entered into their architectural arrangements, making them more partial than they would otherwise have been to a style excessively plain, or more properly bald and homely. Proba- bly some influence of this kind led them to prefer two and even three rows of small windows to one row of long wiridows.~ Yet on the other hand, they did not run into the theory of the Quakers or the Meth- odists on this subject. Some of they old churches that stood within the memory of the present generation, and some of which are still standing here and there, besides being built as substantially as the materials would allow, were not destitute of ornament. The pulpits particularly were sometimes adorned with carved work in the form of vines or flowers, or enriched capitals of pilasters, and generally with more panels and mouldings than any part of the best dwelling-house at that time could show, and being built up solid from the floor and to an unnecessary height, beneath a sounding- board which had more or less work on it too, made more considerable struc- tures than the modern platform sur- mounted by a table or fenced in by a balustrade and curtain. And it ought to be observed by the good people now engaged in erecting houses of worship, that if through prejudice or lack of judgment, the old fashioned meeting- houses, as they are called, differed unnecessa- rily from the English parish church- es, yet in one important respect they eonfbrmed to those models,in having the tower rise from the ground, instead of resting on the roof, or partly on the roof and part- ly on a colonnade, as in many new churches at this day. We have seen old churches spoiled in the best feature they ever had, because the people attempted to improve them, as they imagined, by bringing forward the main building on each side even (or flush, as carpenters have it) with the front of the tower, thus making the steeple seem to rest on the roof even where it has a better support and ought to show it. But we shall advert to this point again - We have said enough to show that our fathers, down to the present century, when we consider their circumstances, were not so far behind their descendants of the present day in the matter of church building, as is often supposed. Still we acknowledge that here, as in some other things, their judgment was not as comprehensive and lib- eral as it. should have been. In re- volting from one extreme they tend- ed to another. They did not give the idea of beauty its legitimate place in the arts, nor yet always in the conduct of life. In ecclesiastical architecture it was tori far subordi- nated to the bare cold notion of utility or convenience. Their error, more excusable in them however, was that of a majority of the people in our own day; and the correction of it will mark the more advanced stages and show one of the ripest fruits of the worlds civilization. We hold it to be true, and we would have the truth sacredly regarded, that as in nature, so in human life, and in the arts, utility and beauty * Yet something like a precedent might be found fbr so many tiers of lights in old Norman churches as described by scien- tific writers. 1848.] Church Building. 5 instead of being lawfully divorced are of right joined together, and that the highest perfection of each lies in the harmony of both. While of late years we see en- couraging tokens among all the lead- ing denominations of Christians, of a desire to diversify and improve ecclesiastical architecture, we are obliged to add that in most places there is more of diversity than of improvement, and that so far as the proper effect of the exterior is con- sidered, the new church falls short of the old. We have often wished that some of the long established congregations in New England, had been from the first in a condition to use the most enduring materials for building, that we might sometimes worship God in our holy, if not our beautiful house, where our fa- thers praised him. Besides the ef- fect of historical associations, the old house, with certain slight chan- ges for the sake of convenience, would often have the advantage over the new, in looking more like a place of worship, and less like a court house or academy or factory. Here and there one may still be found, too strong to be easily pulled apart, and too hallowed for the fathers sakes to be readily forsaken. The last we looked into with curious in- terest was in Lexington, Massachu- setts, and that (if we are rightly in- formed) has since been burnt, after witnessing the first bloodshed of the Revolution, and surviving theologi- cal changes scarcely less memora- ble. Though we saw it in the lat- ter part of the week, on opening the door we found the house redolent of fennel-seed, which as many of our readers may remember, had a fra- grance almost as ecclesiastical in the country towns in New Eng- land as frankincense in the Romish churches, though employed to stim- ulate the senses rather than to be- cloud the fancy. The pulpit was midway on one side of the build- ing, a tall paneled structure, the up- per part of the center projecting, if we remember rightly, in three sides of a hexagon, with the deacons seat below, a single steep heavy staircase at the side, and a little win- dow behind. The chief door was opposite the pulpit, making the side of the house the front, (as an Irish critic might describe it,) and anoth- er door at either end, one passing through the tower, where we sup- pose the boys stopped every Sunday to understand the mystery of bell- ringing. Theseatingwasinsquare pews, left unpainted as they should be, with large and small aisles through which the people who had been accustomed to such passes could find the shortest way from ei- ther door. There may have been a sounding board too over the pul- pit, for this was once thought al- most indispensable, and besides hav- ing the authority of old precedent, was of more service than is now imagined.* It might be employed with advantage now wherever the size or shape of a house, or the fee- bleness of a preachers voice, makes hearing difficult. At one time an- other sort of sounding board, not so called, was in use in some places if * The church ofAtterctiffe, near Shef- field, (England,) had tong been remarka- bte for the difficutty and indistinctness with which the voice from the pulpit was heard these defects were comptetely remedied by the erection of a concave sounding board, having the form resutting from hatf a revototion of one branch of a parabota on its axis. tt is made of pine wood; its axis is inctined forward to the plane of the floor at an angle of about ten or fifteen degrees; it is elevated so that the speakers mouth may be in the focus; and a small curvilinear portion is remov- ed on each side from beneath, so that the view of the preacher from the side g~ille- ries may aol be intercepted. The effect of this sounding board has been to in- crease the volume of the sound to nearly five times what it was before, so that the voice is now disiinctly audible in the re- motest paris of the church, and more es- pecially in those places, however distant they may be, which are situated in the prolongation of the axis of the parabo- toid.Stuarts Dict. of ~rckit. 6 Church Building. [Jan. not generaHy: the seats were divi- ded into parts and made to turn on hinges, so as to be laid up against the back of the pews in prayer- time, in order that the people might lean against the pew-rails in stand- ing up, and when prayer was over they were let down with a slam throughout the house. Another cir- cumstance better worth imitation was the height of the pews in old times, which gave a convenient sup- port to the congregation standing in prayer. The people who now com- mend the fathers for maintaining that attitude, and would perpetuate the custom, should consider that the low partitions now common between the pews make it more fatiguing than of old, and have done much to bring about a change in the habits of our congregations. Another pe- culiarity which we remember in some of the old churches, might be restored with advantage at least in our smaller edifices: the staircases leading to the gallery were contain- ed within the audience-room, in the angles of the house, instead of be- ing in the porch as now. Wherev- er there is a gallery there can be no need of concealing the necessary ac- cess to it, but on the contrary a stair- case, if properly made, may very properly be shown, as a thing ob- viously in its place; and by having it in the house, less room is needed for the porch.t But the old church- es excelled most of their successors chiefly in what we have already no- ticed, in having outwardly more of the appearance of houses of wor * The term slip, apptied to narrow pews, we betieve is an Americanism. I tt shuutd be carpeted to prevent noise, and defended byactose raiting. ti would make the gatlery seem more properly a part of the house than now, and boys would take less liberty of trampin~ lip and down. As a curious example of otd things becoming new, we observed this arrangement in a costly modern edifice, the Duane street Presbyterian church in New York, and still more lately in the Swedenborgian chapel in Boston. ship, as distinguished from every other kind of building. This effect was produced especially by the solid construction of the towers, sur- mounted generally by spires, which though plain were far more signifi- cant and graceful than most of the cupolas (in charity they must be called) adorned with gingerbread joinery, which have risen in their places. But we may have more to say on this head ; and we have not tinie now to linger any longer among these recollections of things that have scarcely left a sample in our land. Since many congregations are, of late, showing some commendable ambition and liberality in repairing old edifices or erecting new ones, while yet, through want of judgment or care, they ofken fail to please ju- dicious observers, and afterwards even themselves grow dissatisfied with their work ; we have thought it might be needful and timely to turn the attention of our readers more particularly to this subject. Of course we write not for architects, nor for those traveled amateurs whose tastes are too foreign and ex- pensive to be congenial with the tone of our instituttons, or consistent with the resources of our people. We have, therefore, no desire, if we had the ability, to discourse learnedly and obscurely about the several Grecian orders, or the Gothic style, about entablatures, modules and sof- fits, or groins and mullions and crock- ets. We do not affect to be profes- sionally acquainted with architecture, which is, of itself, a comprehensive art, with a large vocabulary of its own. But we would get the atten- tion of those ministers and laymen who are commonly active in devising or adopting the plans, or furnishing the means for church building; and we would lay before them such hints as the great interest we feel in the subject, and the attention we have been able to bestow upon it, suggest for remedying prevailing errors and defects. 1848.] Church Building. 7 Our people have not yet come to appreciate the highest value of the arts as fully as some of the older European communities, and this is as true of architecture as of the other arts of design. In this de- par~ment, many sensible good peo- ple are more backward and deficient than in any other kind of improve- ment pertaining to high civilization. The building ofa church is not suf- ficiently regarded as a work of art, as related to sublimity or beauty, and putting forth an influence by which those who are accustomed to see it or to worship in it are insensibly af- fected, not only in their taste but even in the tone of their religious sentiments. Some l)ersons, we know, are always ready to put aside with contempt, all considerations of this kind con nected with religion, as pro- fane fancy or disguised worldliness. The laws of art and the suggestions or influences of association in culti- vated minds, pass with such persons for mint and anise and cummin ~ a sort of scriptural nickname, in their use, for things which they have failed to appreciate, yet are not at liberty to condemn. Be it so, that matters of taste are not among the weightier matters of the law, yet the smallest things connected with religion ought not to be left uncared for, while the greatest are properly esteemed. Good morals will never flourish the more for the neglect of good manners. IfthehouseofGod is left without symmetry or fitness, his spiritual house will not be the more perfect. The services of the sanctuary, we believe, will be the more acceptable to God, if the sanc- tuary itself is not suffered to be dis- tasteful to man. Certainly the arts may be made in some way and in some degree, subservient to the doc- trines and duties of Christianity. The sense of the beautiful, as a part of our nature, ought to be consulted, cultivated, and turned to the highest account, in the service of pure reli- gion. And we can not think of any instance in which such a connection is more obvious and direct than be- tween architecture and worship. The demands of our nature we hold to be a sufficient argument on this point; but the coldest utilitarian can not deny that an imposing or at- tractive edifice creates in the minds of the worshipers associations favor- able to the effect contemplated, and may alone often bring the undevout within the reach of the more pow- erful agencies that are at work with in. Nor is this influence the less valuable because silent and gradual. If it can not be exactly computed, it is yet observed and felt. We would have good people give it a larger place in their estimates and arrange- ments. We would encourage and strengthen the alliance between true religion and refined taste, wherever it may be found, and especially be- tween evangelical worship and in- struction, and that department of art which lies nearest to them, or the best examples of those architectural forms which they must of necessity employ. And if there are those who will remain indifferent to the attractions of art and the affinities of religious sentiment, we would stimulate such persons on the score of sectarian emulation. Those de- nominations and those particular so- cieties that are too niggardly or sluggish or prejudiced to make their houses of worship more agreeable or convenient, and will not keep pace with the public mind in this direc- tion, but persist in defying or disre- garding the laws of taste, will suffer as they ought to suffer by co mpari- son with others. They will fail to gain adherents, they will lose some they now have, among those whom they would most wish to secure, the youthful part of the community, who inevitably prefer for their innocent satisfaction, if not for their religious edification also, those sanctuaries where they find not only the essen- tials but the natural aids and embel- lishments of devotion. This consid 8 Church Building. [Jan. eration operates in some instances where every other fails. Again we are disposed to en- courage rather than to check or dis- countenance the liberal expenditure in church building, of which many congregations have, within a few years, given conspicuous examples. Some fears have been expressed on this subject, and occasionally a note of alarm is sounded in the papers, as if the religious community were iii danger of ecclesiastical prodigal- ity and bankruptcy. We are ac- quainted with the facts aIled ged, yet feel no new concern of this sort. The people of the United States are more in danger of making money too fast than of squandering too much, and they are in danger of wasting it in every other way rather than in church building. It is wor- thy of observation too, that in the city of New York the most costly enterprises of this kind have sprung up in rapid succession within the last ten or twelve years, the series taking date from the disastrous times of 1835, 6, when fashionable extrava- gance and overwrought speculation were prostrated, and business itself arrested, for a season; so that the liberality of the wealthy seems to have received a new impulse, and to have been partially diverted b~ unexpected methods into at least one safe and useful channel, that was before neglected. The objection, that costly churches are not strictly necessary to religious purposes, we can not allow to be of any moment, for reasons implied in what we have said before. it is always sufficient- ly answered by pointing to Solo- mons temple, with all its divinely ordained splendors, and to the pound of ointment, very costly, with which Mary anointed the Sa- viors feet and won his approbation. The most plausible form of the ob- jection is, that the sums lavished in this way might be expended in char- ity to the poor and to the heathen. But Judas put such reasoning into bad odor when he said, Why was not this ointment sold for three hun- dred pence and given to the poor? This he said not because he cared for the poor, but because he had the bag and bare what was put there- in. A similar explanation may be now often given of the same pre- tense, and we believe the incident was recorded in order that it might be thus applied. Whenever it seems to come from a more respectable source, we reckon it a short-sighted mistake. We reply briefly, the sums expended on churches would not be given to the heathen nor to the poor if the churches were not built. rrhey come chiefly from the rich or the prosperous, who gene- rally, if rightly disposed, will not deduct them from their own bene- factions, and if not thus disposed, would not, in any case, add them to the resources of Christian benevo- lence. Besides, the comfort and beauty of the house of God have claims on the liberality of his wor- shipers, as well as the extension of his kingdom among the heathen. Of course we acknowledge the lim- its of justice and discretion in this as in every other kind of expendi- ture. Societies have no more right than individuals to incur debts of which they see no way of ridding themselves honorably, and careful management in this particular is, no doubt, one of their most sacred ob- ligations. They are bound to grad- uate their expenses according to their resources. But these limits of discretion and justice can not be the same in all congregati9ns, nor can they be defined except in this gene- ral manner. We see no more rea- son to fear that they will be trans- cended in the building of churches, than in the building of private hou- ses, or in any of the arts or of the enterprises in which liberality may possibly run to excess. It is con- ceivable that the wealthiest congre- gation might expend too much even in proportion to their means upon 1848.] Church Building. 9 their house of worship, but such a case is of too rare occurrence to be taken into the account. We admit also that vanity and the love of dis- play and unhallowed emulation do in fact enter more or less into the motives that actuate congregations in their most liberal expenditures of this kind. But the same thing may he said of their munificence and ac- tivity in other forms. If men are compassing a proper end, we would urge them to attempt it in the right cit and by the right methods, hut we would not stop their zealous work because we detect too much alloy in their tools or in themselves. In fine, instead of taking alarm at the large sums of late years lavish- ed in church building in the city of New York, by opulent congregations vieing with one another, we would rather stimulate other cities, and the wealthy parishes in our country cen- erally, to similar enterprises. We can not fear that such enthusiasm will spread too far or burn too deep. We would like to see public spirit, even if it he nothing more, in this and in other forms getting possession of our church-going capitalists and men of business. And even when the rich are profuse in building tem- ples worthy of the Most High for no better reason than to increase the value of their property in the neigh- borlioed, or from the frivolous love of ostentation, it is only one of ma- ny instances in which He makes the selfishness and fully, as well as the wrath of man to praise him. * We have not fallen on an instance of the kind. Trinity church in New York is not an exception. There has been some croaking about it, but realty we know of rio way in which that pletli~iic moneyed corporation could and would re- lieve itself more creditably than by build- ing neomparabty the finest church in our coon try. If to adorn that city, to rettale the eyes of the multitudes of stragers there, and to associate the worship of God xvith the iropressiveress of arehiteeturat d ~s ~n if all this be worth doing, they outtht to be commended, not reproached. VOL. VI. 2 We call the attention of our read- ers however; to the difference be- tween costliness and good taste in ecclesiastical architecture. Com- paratively few congregations can af- ford large sums in constructing or improving their houses of worship, and those that have the largest re- sources are not always the readiest to use them. Our churches must therefore, with few exceptions, be cheap structures. Such must of ne- cessity be the architecture of our country, at least for many years to come. Hence the difference we have named is exceedingly impor- tant, and ought to be generally un- derstood. Costliness and good taste are easily distinguished in dress and equipage. The greater the expense, if it be not well bestowed, the worse is the effect. So among private houses, a cottage costing a thousand dollars n-lay please every refined ob- server more than a mansion that consumed a fortune; one mans barn may strike a discerning eye more than his neighbors dwelling. Thus too such a church as can be built by the poorest people who can support a minister, may he more satisfacto- ry to an architect or to any person conversant with good models, than some pagoda or oilier splendid toy which their rich neighbors may task themselves in erecting for the same purpose. - The chief question should be, not how much money can be rais- ed, but how can it be used on a house of God with the utmost ad- vantage for these three thitgsnot otie of them alone, but all combi- nedeconomy, convenience, and beauty. We believe it will be found that this last is not so expensive an article as is generally supposed. Horace Walpole has a remark to this effect, that if a man would make way with a fortune, he need only have a taste, httt it is not true, unless by taste he means only a whimsical capriciotis fancy. The sense of the beautiful may tempt an individual or a people to extrava 10 Church Building. [Jan. gance, but it may be indulged also, and commonly must be if at all, in a plain unexception ble way. We might confirm our remarks by the testimony of judicious travelers in Europe, and especially in England, who are struck with the picturesque effect of many of the bumbler old parish churches, scarcely less than with the magnificence of the roost noted cathedrals. Some of our leading architects bave of late turn- ed their attention especially to this point, and employed their skill in devising un expensive plans which our poorer parishes may dopt, and by which we hope our towns and villages will yet be adorned as they have not been before. Let our building committees remember that so far as permanent effect is concerned, the effect of acknow- ledged beauty, every thing depends on just designs rather than abundant means, and that they may make their new church handsomer than the old one or than most of the sur- rounding churches, for nothing but the pains, and often at half the cost. It is worthy of consideration that ordinary congregations~rnight in the end build better churches, without tasking their resources too far or in- curring too heavy liabilities, if they would take more time for it. The people of this country are too much in the habit of doing a thing at once, whether well or ill, instead of ex- pending their strength, as it accu- mulates from time to time, on the successive parts of an undertaking, so as to produce in the result a more perfect whole. Congregations seem not to have learned rh t it is possi- ble, ~vith their present means, to build so much of a church as will accommodate the assembly for a time, and then after a few years, with recruited means, to complete the edifice more satisfactorily than they could have done it irn mediately. One set of subscribers at once take the work upon their shoulders, in- stead of reasonably devolving a part of the burden upon other times and persons. Hence they exhaust their resources for a result at best imper- fect. For example, if a large church is to be built of stone, and only thirty thousand dollars can be raised, the steeple is made of wood, and when once erected is never re- placed by any thing better; where- as if that sum were now expended on the body of the building, in a few years the same people will have the inducement and the ability to complete it in stone, and then the xvhole work, from the corner-stone to the steeple-top, will be satisfacto- ry and enduring. It was only in this latter way that the most famous churches in Europe were erected, or could have been erected. Some of them are the work of successive generations, and even of successive ages. And among ourselves a house of worship, like the spiritual house within, will often be more perfect in the end if we give it time for ~,rowth.* We must take this opportunity to protest against the ambitious and pretending, yet abortive style adopt- ed in some of the new churches. We are not referring to the costly buildings erected within a few years past afier European models, most of which fare hard at the hands of traveled critics, who having seen the originals decry the imitations, more however as if vaunting their superior observation than for the sake of encouraging enthusiasm in the art. Ambitious congrega- tions, composed of a certain class in our cities, are in danger of aping foreign models beyond their reach, in church building as in their style of living; yet let. them have credit for structures that look well notwith- standing the affectation- But we have now in our eye churches that on the face of them betray the dis- position of their builders to attempt * The finest church in Connecticut is an exampte, havin~ beun built ofstnne to ttie belfry, and seam years afterwards com- pleted of the same material. 1848j Church Building. 11 more than they could accomplish, and to make a sho~v either beyond their means or beyond what the oc- casion warrants. We hold it as un- becoming in churches as in individ- uals, when they seem intended to pass for more than they are worth. The mixture of costly and cheap materials, palpable imitation, incon- gruity, incompleteness, these things and the like offend cultivated taste as savoring of pretense, as the fruit of abortive ambition. When we see a stone front and brick sides, the next thought is, these people were too poor or else too niggardly to build of stone, yet to build of brick they were ashamed. A frame- building covered with planks looks better than such a mixtures When the ~vindows have pointed arches, hut the ceiling is flat or an unbro- ken curve, and the columns are Gre- cian or American, the whole is a mongrel product, to be admired on- ly as it is wondered at. When an open chapel, or a receding colon- nade, is painted on the wall behind the pulpit, it seems as if the people had only aimed to do some great thing fbr the sake of doing it. The thing represented to the eye would be out of place if it were real, and we take it to be a sound rule that art should not attempt to impose up- on us with an imitation, where the original would not be wanted if it could be had. When the interior wood-work, in the pulpit, pews and galleries, looks considerably like marble, or mahogany, or oak, or black walnut, yet we know it is all painted pine, we ask, Why not ex- pend more (yet not a great deal more, in the long run, considering the cost of paint) in getting the more beautiful and enduring mate- A church ceiled with planks grooved together perpendicularly, not even planed, but only painted to resemble dark stone, may be made much more pleasing than most of our rural churches, and is said to endure well. XVe have heard of one on Greenfield hill. rials themselves, or if they can not be afforded, why put on an appear- ance which every bodyseesthrough? In this particular the oldest churches that we can remember looked better than their more ambitious succes- sors. The pews were of pine, clear stuff carefully selected, not disguised with paint, but getting a darker, richer hue with time; and this common material, if only oiled and varnished so as to show the tex- ture and veins, is really more beau- tiful, as well as cheaper, than with the oaking now in vogue, besides being a reality and not a sham. Many persons would be surprised to observe the agreeable and varied hues of pine, white-wood, bass- wood, and other trees common in different parts of our country, when properly wrought and prepared. Yet so little has this fact been un- derstood, that cherry, which is a richer wood than either of those we have named, used to be stained to make it look like a coarse kind of mahogany. The native wood more- over improves with age, while the faded imitations have to be renewed. For ourselves, if we could not af- ford to have pews made of black walnut or oak, we would not have them pretend to be richer than they are. Imitative painting, even in the higher range of decoration, is at best a superficial temporary beauty in architecture. In ordinary church- es every thing that is merely orna- mental should be carefully kept sub- ordinate to the general effect in- tended. The obtrusive appearance of art savors of ostentation, and is therefore offensive. And we may say in general, that when any thing beyond a plain style in church build- is attempted, thework must be judicious hands, will betray at one point or another mere of am- bition than of good taste, more of pretension than of achievement. We have named a few of the most prominent instances that have fallen under our observation, and though 15 C/Lurch Building. [Jan. others might be noted, we hope these will suffice for a timely cau- tion to some of the multitude who need it. We would have it borne in mind among all persons concerned in church building, that architecture since it came to be more than a mere contrivance for sheltering us from the weather, is properly an art, one of the fine arts, ad not a creature of fashion. Like painting and sculpture it has its own para- mount models, ideas and laws, which originated in the sense of beauty, and are recognized accordingly wherever this part of our nature is developed and cultivated. It is one province in the realm of that ~aculty which goes under the name of taste. Fashion, on the contrary, iswhat we have scarcely any other name forthe product of a capricious fancy, springing from the whims of individuals, depending on novelty for effect, prevailing at certain times and places like contagion or infec- tion, and from its nature ever fluctu- ating, having no principle but that of change. It has to do with the shape of a bonnet or the cut of a coat; but the proportions of an edi- fice are properly above its range. The common misapplication of the word shows a popular misconcep- tion on this subject. A church is said to be in the fashion or old fashioned, like an old or new ira- portation of millinery, without refer- ence to any other standard of judg- ment than the custom of the place and time, as if there were no other more comprehensive and end uring.* XVhat would be thought if a picture or * Carpenters do injustice to theii busi- ness by confinin tberusel~ es unuecessa- rily to sucb n ~tier s of their ornamental xvork. We knew of a canich built in the plainest style, horn which all ruouldings were purposely excaided but it was as much as the overseer could do to keep them off froni the xaincow-fiatnes, be- cause the woikmen said they were the fashion a statue were spoken of in the same manner? Yet architectural design may riot less fairly claim exemption from the authority of fashion. XVher- ever such language can be fitly ap- plied to xvorks of taste, it is becaus art has in those instances sunk itself to a compliance with the caprice of individuals or the whims of a season~ Thus painting sometimes degener ates till the style is excessively arti- fich 1, a ~d of necessity must soon cease to please ; in which case the fault of the style is that it has be- come a fashion at dl, and whether it be old or new is a question of lit- tIe consequence. Thus too in ar- chitecture we complain not so mud of the xvord fashion, as of the thing itself, and the ext nt to which it is allowed to affect the popular judg- ment arid feelin ~. The style of our churches ought never to have been what is called a fashion at all; but having been such originally, it has necessarily become an old fashion. To replace it now by a new -fashion, is only to renew the difficulty sooner or later, and this is the very mistake many congregations are in turn run- ning into, instead of resorting to the true m thuds of ecclesiastical archi- tecture. A church is to be built: it must be like any other rather that the old one, so as to have the charm of novelty; a committee is appoint- ed; they look at other churches in the neighborhood,marking the new- est patterns, for the latest ma prove- meatsthereia often reversing their theological tendencies; they take their idea of the size and shape of the house from one place, of the steelale from another, of the pulpit frona a third, and of the pews from a fourth; and these cold fragments they weld together as they can, in a new plan of their own. But this is not the worst : the members of the committee have also their several notions on the occasion, ~esthetical, economical, or nameless, and by the help of mtitual concession (to change our figure) they graft these whims 1848.] Church Building. 13 of their own on a stock already suf- ficiently unnatural; and the result iswhat might he expected. We are not sure that even this picture is overcharged. Our readers can recall instances of some peculiarity in the structure or arrangement of churches, originating in the ignor- ance or conceit of individuals, and copicd, as improvements upon long established models, in one case after another till they had their run and ~vent out of date. XVe have heard of a people who had a stone quarry in the midst of them ad made a business of exporting that material, yet had such a stubborn predilection for red brick that they built a new church of it without the plea of economy. There xvas a time long ago when many of our old parish churches were adorned with three tiers of small windows. All our old churches, so far as we are informed, had the pulpit on one side, instead of at the end, as if to enable the people to outflank the minister, or to put them out of the point-blank range of the sermon. In truth it was a xvell meant, though ill judged con- trivance in aid of the hearing, when no aid was needed, and showed the audience to one another better than to the speaker. For a similar rea- son many churches are made nearly as broad as they are long, or exactly square in the interior; whereas none of them are so large as to require such proportions for the ease of the speaker or the hearers; and an ob- long figure in a building or a room is more agreeable to the eye than a square. Then instead of the tower and spire which were the best part of an old New England meeting- house, it became the fashion to l)ut a portico or colonnade in front~ and perch a low square beifrey hove it, like a martin-box on gat c-posts, as may often be seen at this day. Another innovation was the putting the pulpit between two front doors of the church ; an arrangement at one time fashionable in a line of churches through the country,* and still suffered to stand in most of them, but not likely to be renewed. The only show of reason for it, that we have discovered, is that a stran- ger entering the church may be known as such, and may sooner re- ceive the hospitality of a seat; but a modest stranger, if he can not be accommodated by the sexton, would rather at any time take his chance of being recognized sideways than confront all the people. It has been alledged too, that in such a church the people will not look behind them to see others entering or leavin~ but it happens that while one hearer would turn his head to a door open- ing in the rear, twenty will turn their eyes to the same interruption before them, and every speaker knows that their heads may as well be turned round as their eyes turned off. On the other hand there is the inconvenience of making the poorer classes of persons march to the fur- ther seats in the face of the congre- gation, and of often virtually exclu- ding stragglers and such as happen to be late, who will stay out rather than be stared at for going in. The arrangement has been properly com- plained of also as unsuitable to a house of worship, because in all sa- cred edifices, ancient and modern, it has been customary to have the rites performed at the end remote from the principal entrance; this uniformity of usage indicating rea- sons of reverence and impressive- ness from which it naturally grew up. We hope many of our respect- able congregations ~vill mend their ways in this particular, as some have already. Many congregations are gro~ving wiser too in another partic- ularabandoning the custom of having lecture-rooms under church- es; a fashion only not so bad as putting shops in tile same position, * The exampte we have been tutd wa. frst sel in Dr. Tasons ctiurch, ia Mur- ray street, New York. 14 Church Building. [Jan. which can be excused only on the plea of extreme poverty. At first such rooms were half under ground, really cellars, low, close and damp, as if to generate bad air and bron- chitis; and then ihis evil was sup- planted by another, xvhen the first story above ground was given up to the lecture-room, and the church itself was virtunily put up stairs. The latter method allows of more height in the room, yet not two thirds of what is needed; but it de- tracts more than almost any other arrangement from the convenience and beauty of the church itself. Happily most of our older edifices were built as they ought to have been, on foundations too low to ad- mit of any consecrated caverns be- neath, and yet here and there con- gregations have been indiscreet enough to spoil the old arrangement, by laying an upper floor for the church, and reserving the old one for the lecture-room. The truth is, a lecture-room or chapel has no proper place except over the vesti- bule, or behind the church, or else detached from it, and every foot that the floor of a church is raised above what is required to avoid dampness, is an inconvenience and a blemish. Another later fashion, dispenses with what is called the center aisle between the pews, even in wide churches, for no reason that we have heard except that the space immediately before the preacher may all be filled with the audience. Such a reason seems too trivial, for we never knew a speaker annoyed by that vacant stripe of plank or carpet. The center aisle is con- venient on various public occasions, especially where processi6ns are re- quired, and we submit it to any un- prejudiced judge whether it is not agreeable to the eye as the princi- pal passage through the edifice ,giv- ing direct access from the chief en- trance to the best seats and to the desk. The innovation has impaired the effect of some of our churches, but it can not prevail generally or long. We might cite other exam- ples, and particularly one we have already noticedthe rage for paint- ing one kind of wood in imitation of another, or graining, as it is called, and for particular colors also, as for instance green on the inside of the pews, and a glaring white every where else. But we have named cases enough to show our meaning. These notions, and the like, are in architecture, what the whims of ignorant and conceited zealots are in theology, the antics of private judgment. They can not bear the test of time, and this of itself is a critical difference between the works of fashion and those of true art. Their inventors grow weary of their own fancies, and new follies displace the old. By one ill advised experiment a con- gregation entails upon itself the ne- cessity of another. In distinction from the fashions of times and places, architecture, as we have said, has its own permanent models, ideas, and laws, which are both permanent and just because conformed to the only true standard of beauty, the cultivated judgment of mankind at large, and the more approved by time and trial. None will deny that there is such a thing as beauty in architecture, and that something of the kind may be rea- sonably expected in the house of God when we once go beyond the limits of bare necessity in the ar- rangement of such a buildintr. Yet we have heard men on entering a new church pronounce it very neat, as if this were to exhaust the subject, though they might say as much of a new barn. If they are discern- ing persons, it is an equivocal com- pliment, like saying that a minister appears to be a good man, to avoid saying he is a poor preacher. The effect of beauty is something more positive and pleasurable. While this is admitted, some still question the existence of any proper stand- 1848.] Church Building. 15 ard, setting aside criticism with such sayings, as every one to his taste, and de gustibus, & c. In their notion of taste they confound the whim of a single mind xvith the concurring judgments of many, or the sentiment that prevails for a time in a limited circle, with the perva- ding growing sentiment of civilized man. But let any person of toler- able cultivation look upon the Par- thenon, or St. Peters church in Rome, or York Minster, and then consider how remote from such things are transient individual ca- prices, how foreign and inferior seems the popular idea of fashion. In these and other like examples, mankind are sufficiently agreed to prove a common standard by which their individual judgments must in the main be ultimately determined. There are orders and styles in ar- chitecture, as there are schools in painting, but these very differences are in harmony though not in unison. They are so many recog- nitions of manifest beauty, as true Christians of various sects agree in man ifold goodness, having diversi- ties of gifts and of operations but the same Spirit. The structures that have been so tried and approv- ed, embody the various just ideas of architecture, as the lives of certain saints do those of practical Christi- anity, arid such ideas are further de- veloped in living minds by conge- nial contemplation. The laws of taste in this department become in- corporated as it were with our own perceptions, and hence are more clearly recognized and more easily applied. Thus improvements are to be effected, not by blindly follow- ing the usage with which we happen to be most acquainted, nor by run- ning after novelty, but by recur- rence to xvhat may be called prin- ciples. A new plan ought to be devised without taking fashion into the account, and to be neither ap- proved nor rejected upon niere reference to recent usages. We have not room, even if xve had the ability, here to set forth these prin- ciples as they might be with advan- tage. One thing that ought always to be considered, is that a church as a whole should have one harmonious effect. The several l)arts niay be in keeping so as to produce a gen- eral expression; as such expression is necessary to the varieties of per- sonal beauty, yet results not from single features but from all the ele- ments that in their natural combina- tion make the face and form one whole. The beauty of the spiritual house is not merely the aggregate of the virtues of all its lively stones, bat a new product of their mutual relation and adjustment. The beauty of a building lies not chiefly in the several parts, but in their harmony, or their subordina- tion to one pervading effect; in that expressiveness which the mind re- cognizes in the suitable disposition even of things that are tiot them- selves beautiful. Many a church has been spoiled by some one glar- ing incongruity, while another pleases for this reason, if no other can be found, that it is in keeping with itself throughout. This con- sideration is particularly important in the remodeling of old churches that have an architectural charac- ter already. The confusion of the several orders and styles impairs the effect, because each has a char- acter of its own, whether of simpli- city, grace, massiveness, or gran- deur, and is capable of some cor- responding expression; and the careless distribution of colors also mars designs otherwise the most agreeable. Another just rule is that the architecture of a church should be such as to distinguish it from other public buildings. The Quakers, and portions of some other sects, have made a point of disregarding this distinction as far as possible, but their notion savors of whim or prejudice. There is no good reason why an edifice should 16 Church Building. [Jan. not appear to be what it is in fact. A church is devoted to a peculiar use, and therefore it should have a peculiar aspect. It ought to desig- nate itself to the eye. Even corn- mon observers are not satisfied with a building which for aught that ap- pears may be a house of worship or a school house, a temple of religion or a temple of justice, a sanctuary or a town hall. A well constructed steepleat least some- thing more than the belfry of an academy or a factorywill save the question, what kind of a build- ing is that? Another remark akin to this, seems ohvious enough, yet is often overlooked: that good taste as well as comfort requires a nouse of worship, especially the interior, to be suitable to the use for which it is designed. As xve have said be- tore, every building should have a character of its own. That of a church should he, not only distinct, but favorable and appropriate to worship. Every part should be in keeping not only with the other parts, but with the use to he made of the whole. Beauty is not entirely independent of convenience here. The worship of God is something to be understood, and therefore it should be heard, and the preacher should be both heard and seen. Hence the huge columns, or rather pillars and groups of pillars, in some of the ancient churches abroad, are unsuitable, except in those buildings where there is room enough and to spare. In our churches they would be in the way. And apart from convenience, the appearance of every thing in such a place ought to be congenial with devotion. Many brick churches present a show of red and white on the outside, which is decidedly more military than ecclesiastical. Within, obviously the outlines and colors should be such as to compose, not to distract or divert attention; chaste rather than striking. Drill- tancy and show are foreign to the scene.5 Every thing in the nature of decoration must seem to be sub- servient to the spirit of the place, or it is a blemish. A subdued light is felt to be favorable to the so- lemnity of religious services, and painted walls and stained windows add to the effect; as Milton speaks of storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religions light. Formerly our churches let in all the light that could be had, and the walls were scrupulously white- washed, as if colors were profane, or could be of no use except to weak eyes. Since attention has been turned to the subject, there is some danger of running into the opposite extreme of gairish or fan- tastic tints.t Coloring in churches as well as other parts of design, must be regulated by the standard we have pointed out, and not by the fashions of the day ; otherwise it should be abandoned, or made a department of millinery. Another principle in the archi- tecture of churches, as of other buildings, is the connection be- tween utility and beauty. We would not have the two things confounded, but certainly the one is often closely related to the other. The appear- ance of convenience or strength, where these qualities are wanted, is one element of beauty. A col- XVe remember a costly church where the space about the pulpit was so splen- clidly carpeted that looi(ing down upon it from the gallery, we could think of it only as a gay parlor or brilliant saloon. An- other that we sa~ in Philadelphia made so much show of bronze and gilt about the desk, that we could not but ask, what would Paul say to that? t Some wa5 sai(l of the new Crace church in New York, that the Pearl street tuerchants of that con~regation, 1K d put patterns of their chinizes into the windows. The stained glass there is inure brilliant than we have seen in any other church, but after all that has been said, we were agreeably dicap- pointed in the blending and hartnony of the colorx 1848.] Church Building. 17 umn that seems to support nothing is offensive to good taste; and so is the want of it wherever it seems to be required. To conceal the chim- neys of a dwellin~-house because the Greek temples had none, is a mistake; for chimneys are known to be needful in a residence, though not in those temples, and therefore the appearance of them is appro- priate, and their concealment is an imperfection suggesting the notion of cUscomfort. Thus too the ap- pearance of weakness, even where there is strength, is unsatisfactory. Slender rods, if made of iron, may support a gallery, but they are less agreeable to the eye than columns that not only are in fact sutlicient, but appear to be so. For the same reason it is a fault, as we have be- fore remarked, when the steeple of a church seems to rest on the roof instead of rising as a solid tower from the ground. The roof may possibly be strong enough to bear it, or it may really stand on its own tower or frame of timbers within the front ~vall, but there is not the appearance of strengththere is no solidity to the eyeand this is itself a defect.* Certain modes of build- ing improve to the eye upon ac- quaintance with them, because they are found to be stronger and more enduring than others. Cruciform churches have an advantage of this kind, besides their association with the Christian symbol ; for walls so arranged, though necessarily more expensive because much longer than when enclosing the same space in the form of a square, have a nar- ro~ver roof to support, and are less in danger of spreading. With, or without this form, if a church is very large, the roof may be in fact divided along its whole length, and its weight of course distributed, by raising the central portion, or the nave, hi ~ her than the rest in what is called a clere story, resting on arches and pillars, while the lower lateral partitions or aisles at once strengthen it and support their parts of the incumbent weight.t The dif- ficulty of supporting heavy roofs for a great length of time, is a reason for either adopting this last method, or for strengthening them by col- umns or pillars rising to the ceiling of the interior, taking care that these be not unnecessarily large. And for the same reason the area, espe- cially of our larger edifices, should be oblong rather than square. In these instances we refer not only to real solidity as of course desirable in construction, but to the appear- ance of it as entering into beauty of design. We advert to one more point which ought to be regarded in ecclesiastical architecture: the suit- ableness of a church to its peculiar position. The style of the building ought to be adapted to its site and circumstances. St. Peters might have been built where it would only seem to fill a hole, and the Parthe- non might stand where every thing around would overshadow it4 What is called a fine house in a city, imitated in the country looks stiff and bare. A rural church may have favorable accompaniments for which wealth can find no substitute in crowded streets. Amidst the These two methods combined, a~ they arc in mauy of the noted cathedrals abroad, may be seen on a comparatively small scale in Grace church in New York. Trinity church is the best example in this country, of the latter method alone. A small cruciform church, worth looking at, on the corner of 6th avenue and 20th street, New York, is said to have been copied entirely from an old English par- ish church. If Puseyism did nothing worse than such things, we would not complain of it. t Any one may observe how the effect of St. Pauls church in Boston is well nigh destroyed by the vicinity of the Ma- sonic Temple, which however was built subsequently. * A German looking at eec of the many steeples constructed in this manner in our country, complained, that it had no ~eneratioa. VOL. VI. 18 Church Building. [Jan~ works of nature, simplicity is felt to be an indispensable beauty in a work of art. Good architecture is itself more pleasing in the country than in towns, and as churches are there the most conspicuous works of art, we have often felt how much effect they might be made to pro- duce, and yet what deficiency and neglect they show. And particu- larly we have regretted that for some slight consideration of econ- omy, the spire that may be made to every eye attractive and signifi- cant, shootin~ upward gracefully from the foliage of the country, has so generally given place to an un- sightly cupola or belfry. A well constructed square tower, crowned with battlements and turrets, has a massive aspect appropriate to a large edifice, especially when sur- mounting an eminence ; but such a belfry as we often see is nothing better than an incumbrance to the roof. And the spire, as a graceful and lively object, is better suited to most rural situations, than the heav- ier kind of steeples. Our churches moreover, are generally too small to allow of the majestic effect of such towers as are to be found abroad. The color too of a build- ing should often be determined partly by its situation, which brings it into comparison or contrast with other colors in nature or art. When entirely exposed, the more glaring hues become the more offensive. Most of our churches have been painted white on the exterior, be- cause such was supposed to be the fashion, without even the plea of economy. When they stand in val- leys, approached from surrounding bills, white spires rising among trees and defined against the green foliage, are agreeable objects to every eye. On a plain however, or as seen in a city, a dark spire has its outline drawn against the sky more clearly, and hence ap- pears to greater advantage even at a distance. Whenever stone can be used instead of wood or brick, its own color is to be preferred, though it may not be such as would be selected for artificial imitation, and if the spire must be of wood, (though we would have it left in- complete till it can be afterwards finished with stone,) it should be so colored as to resemble the rest of the building. In certain situations it has a good effect to place the tower or steeple at an angle of the building. after the example of some of the old churches abroad, though as yet it strikes our people oddly as when it stands on the corner of a city street, which thus seems to be fully occupied and strengthened, or on the brow of a hill where it looks off boldly from a point more sightly than the main entrance. Amidst mountainous or wild scene- ry, architecture is required to be bolder and more diversified, than in a tamer champaign region. As far as possible, art must ally itself with nature in building, as well as in laying out grounds, in order to secure the best effect. But so many circumstances may be taken into account in adapting the style of an edifice to its situation, that we can here only turn the attention of our readers to the topic. And indeed this is all we have hoped to do in the examples we have given, of what may be called principles in church building.* * Ve append here (for want of a better place) two suggestions which will be found to favor sirapticity, and also econ- oroy, at leastofroori. In any except the largest~ churches, there is no need of any other vestibule or inner porch, than the interior of the tower, into which the chief door opens. The two side-doors should lead directly into the audience- room, (the staircases being also within,) and these being necessarily thrown open when the congregation disperse, will en- sure some ventilation of the house, while in winter only the middle door need he opened for the gathering of the assembly. The effect to the eye will be the better, if the tower just joins the building instead of standing half within it. The other sug- gestion relates to the length of pews, 1848] Church Building. 19 But it may naturally be asked, XVhat should a congregation do then, amidst all the diversities of private judgment, the points to be considered, and the errors to be shunned? Who but a professional artist is sufficient for these things? A proper question certainly; and in answering it for themselves, judi- cious people will generally go to an architectjust where we would have them go. And by an archi- tect we mean of course, not a mere builder, nor every ingenious mechan- ic who being a good draughtsman makes a business of furnishing de- signs; but one who, with good sense and professional enthusiasm, loves and pursues architecture not only as his means of suhsistence, but as an art, acquainting himself with its models and principles, and aiming to improve rather than to follow the fashions of the day. Such men are not to be found every where, but they are increasing in number and mel-it with the general growth of our country. Like other real ar- tists, they must be paid for their ser- whether in a large or small edifice. They should be made to hold four adults, instead of six or seven as now; so as to give a small family a separate pew if they choose it, instead of obliging them to club together or be under tenants in a long pew, while a large or wealthy family, by taking two in a line opening into two aisles, could be also better accommodated than now Thus a house 52 feet in breadth, having six ranges of pews, each 64 feet long, and three aisles occupying the other 13 feet, will be found more con- venient than if the same breadth is di- vided into four ranges of pews, each 104 feet long, and two aisles. So wider churches may have eight ranges of sbort pews, instead of six ranges of longer ones as now, preserving the center aisle, cud having half aisles alon~ the walls. Be- sides better accommodating families, such an arrangement would be more conven- ient for occasional purposes, as the house would be more fully occupied by a large assembly, and could be sooner emptied. By a little care, the aisles too may be made as available for seating a crowded audience as any part of the house. Will not some building committees consider the matter? vices; but congregations will find it even cheaper in the end, as well as better, to employ a man of this stamp, than to pay less to an inferi- or builder or an amateur, because their designs will hear the test of time without requiring costly chan- ges. But as it avails little to em- ploy a physician and then follow ones own judgment instead of his prescriptions, so it is a common dif- ficulty in church building that com- mittee men lake liberties with the architect and modify his design ac- cording to their several partialities and whims, tib it ceases to be his, and indeed has no unity of purpose or effect. For example, he gives them a front elevation after one of the Grecian orders, and then for the sake of getting a bad lecture-room beneath, they mount it upon a base- ment story which has no affinity for any oider. They would lower the steeple, and therefore they shorten the spire instead of reducing the whole. One would have more col- umns of smaller size, another would put them further apart)~ The roof must be made steep enough to spoil the pediment, or the portico must be enclosed at the ends, or instead of one large door there must be three small ones, or the whole house must be as broad as it is long. Whatev- er be the style adopted, the best de- sign is thus liable to be marred in numberless ways, and every archi- tect will probably reckon such inter- ferences among the most vexatious trials of his calling. Let his em- * Somebody, more curious than critical, once complained that the columns of the State [louse in New haven diminisbed in s~zo toward the top. A wag answered him. properly enough according to the scriptural role for auswerin~ Some people, tbat time intervals might be m~ide equal by mnveniiiig every cithmer coluian. WJe have heard of a ease in which an architect of great merit desi ~ 00(1 a shingled wooden spire (on a stone church) to be left un- painted till the weather should turn it brown, but one of the committee dipped the shingles in oil to preserve them, and so preserved the hue of pine just planed. 20 Church Buiiding~ [Jan. plovers take it for granted that his judgment in matters of this kind is better than their own. Every man to his business. His eye is on the whole subject, their eyes on a part of it; and as long as they hold the purse, let them leave the pencil to him. Another caution we believe to be needful not only for the people at large, but sometimes for architects who deservedly stand high in their profession. For ourselves we would maintain a certain catholic liberality of sentiment on this subject, as in every other department of art, in opposition to that idolatrous or big- oted adherence to one of all the ap- proved standards, which excludes just appreciation and genial sympa- thy for any other. Among the sev- eral styles of architecture which have stood the test of time and sur- vived the caprices of fashion, and of which we have examples in world- renowned churches, individual minds will of necessity have their own pre- ferences, and architects themselves can not be expected to agree in the enthusiastic admiration of one, nor to regard all with impartial compla- cency. What we call the public mind is never equipoised, and does not always remain the same, or ex- pend its enthusiasm in the same di- rection: it leans this way or that, and shows now one inclination, then another. This preference predom- inating for a time, perhaps for cen- turies, yet destined to change, dif- fers from the popular idea of fash- ion, though sometimes confounded with it; as being more comprehen- sive and enduring, or having a lar- ger sweep, and obeying higher laws. It is the taste or the prevailing ten- dency, not of one province or one season, but of a nation or of an age, of ancient Greece or Rome, of Northern or Southern Europe, of the middle ages or of later centu- ries. Upon what is called the re- vival of learning in Europe, after the mixed Roman models had long prevailed in the more southern coun- tries, and the most eminent exam~ ples of Norman and Gothic archi- tecture had already grown venera- ble in England and Germany, the public taste in England as well as elsewhere turned strongly toward the purer Greek forms, which in turn became objects of too exclu- sive admiration. More or less mod- ified they entered into the ideal of artists and amateurs, to the undue disparagement of all later models. The Gothic style began to be reck- oned fantastic and well nigh barba- rous, like the superstitions of the ages that produced its most wonder- ful examples, in comparison with the Greek orders and their Roman derivatives. Sir Christopher Wren may be regarded as an example of this tendency. Within the present century, a change in this respect has been going on in Great Britain and in this country. In architecture, as in poetry, the classic and romantic tendencies seem to have been in competition, the one or the other prevailing in both arts at nearly the same periods; and of late the latter seems to have been regaining in turn its old ascendency. Pointed arches and clustered pillars now at- tract the enthusiasm of church build- ers, more than nicely adjusted col- umns and entablatures. And hu- man nature still carries its partiali- ties into extremes, for in some parts of this country we see barns and sheds made to look like Gothic chap- els or monastic enclosures, as for- merly in England they aspired to resemble Greek temples. Now the caution we believe to be needful is against exclusiveness in this or in any other direction, and in behalf of that more liberal habit which re- cognizes beauty under all its variety of forms and expressions. Judging from the notices and comments in some of the popular journals and in fashionable conversation, and from the zeal with which one congrega- tion emulates another in copying the 1848.1 Church Building. 21 same class of models, one might suppose that really no costly church ought to be built, or can ever again be admired, unless it is made to look like some old English exam- pie; and that the imitation is only the more to be admired if the origi- nal was constructed piecemeal at successive times, and hence had a propriety which in truth never can be transferred to any copy. We need not say that we have no dis- relish and no prejudice of any sort against Gothic architecture; we claim to enjoy the best specimens we have se~tn of it as highly as any of those who admire nothing else: but we xviii not confine our compla- cency to this as the only true ec- clesiastical style, any more than we would shut up our sympathies with- in any one communion as the only true spiritual house. Some per- sons have fallen into a way of speak- ing about it, from which one would suppose it had been prescribed or at least commended some where in the writings of the primitive fathers, if not in the New Testament. It is sometimes called (not by scientific architects, yet by those who ought to know better) ecclesiastical and even Christian architecture, as if no other style had been appropriated, or reckoned suitable hy the world at large, for ecclesiastical or christian use. Such phraseology is certainly sectarian or at best national, rather than catholic. The Gothic is not, and never has been, the prevailing style of architecture in Christendom at large. It belongs mainly to Eng- land and parts of France and Ger- many. Even within those limits, some of the most noted churches, as for example St. Pauls cathedral, are not Gothic but rather Greek or Roman structures variously modi- fied,* and parts of old English ca * Within a year or two a writer in Blackxvoods Magazine, giving an account of his visit to New Haven some years ago, sneers at the architecture of the Con. gregational churches on the public square, thedrals called Gothic are rather Norman, distinguished, in common with what is called on the continent the Byzantine or Rornanesque style,t by the prevalence of the semicircu- lar instead of the pointed arch. As to the rest of the nominally Chris- tian world, it is said there is not a Gothic church in Rome, and not many in all Italy. With all their culture in the arts, the people of that country are said to disparage this sort of architecture as savoring of barbarism. And beyond the tem- poral estates of the Pope, the church of Romethat holy mother or erring sister, as the Oxford clique call her according to the end they have to answershoxvs no distin- guishing favor toxvards this style. St. Peters is her boast and model, xvhich is ns unlike York Minster as one stupendous structure can be un- like another erected originally by the same church for the same pur- poses. Then if we go back into an- tiquity, Gothic architecture where it has flourished most, is not half as old as Christianity. As one xvriler observes, the first hymn arose from a Christian assembly not under point- ed arches, but, as soon as buildings could be erected for the purpose, in structures copied, like some now seen in Rome, mainly from the an- cient Roman basilica. The ante- Nicerie church, so much lauded in some quarters for its catholic puri- ty, knew nothing of the architecture which in the same quarters is extol- led as the ecclesiastical. But this style is said to have had its birth un- der Christianity, and hence from it, as of the Puritan son unfortunately not suspecting that h was thus dispara~ing a well known chuich in I ondon, St. Martins in he Field from which the Ceater church ~~as liken liv Mr. Town. I The church oh the t diii ins, (Dr. Cbeevers.) in the Cii~ of ~c~v York, is said to he in the itomariesque style. That style, and what is pioperly naIled in Loc- land the Norman aic surnciently distinct from the Gothic, yet equally removed from any Greek oider 22 Church Baildiug. [Jan. and to be congenial with the main ideas of the Christian system, so as to be itself properly called Christian. So far as time is concerned, the same distinction belongs to all the inventions and discoveries made in Christian countriesthe press, the steam-engine and gunpowder. The origin of Gothic architecture remains a disputed historical question. It has been traced, plausibly enough, in part to an anti-Christian source in Saracenic examples, and ultimate- ly to the avenues and arches of for- ests with their interlacing boughs, as also the foliage of the capitals of Corinthian columns is said to have been suggested by leaves acciden- tally growing about and embracing a stone placed upon a plant. Then as to its congeniality with the Chris- tian ideas, the same thing may be affirmed with truth of all good ar- chitecture, or of all those styles and orders which in the lapse of time have commended themselves to the cultivated judgment of mankind. Every kind has its own predominant character and expression, and is felt to be accordingly congenial with some chief idea or class of ideas in the Christian revelation, as also in the nature of man. Comparing or rather contrasting a Greek and a Gothic edifice, each being a favora- ble specimen of its kind, an obser- ver finds the difference pervading every part, extending to the minu- test device or ornament, and carried out into the general effect; each building rising as it were from one conception of the mind, according to its own laws enlarging itself, and by coherence and unity coming to that harmonious result which is called (according to the position from which it is described) either the expression or impression of the whole as two kinds of trees grow by their respect- ive laws each into its proper beauty. For example, in Gothic architecture the lines are perpendicular or else slanting, the curves intersect one an- other as if all aspiring to greater height, and by mechanical contri- vance one part surmounts another to a great comparative elevation; and besides giving the pleasure of inge- niously overcoming difficulty in the construction, the whole has an air of loftiness, grandeur and natural so- lemnity, and sometimes of grace combined with vastness. In the Greek architecture on the other hand, the lines are for the most part horizontal, and the proportions of all the parts are nicely adjusted both for strength and effect on the cye; the whole making the impression of solidity or massiveness, and repose, and serenity ; the Doric order hav- ing also the charm of the utmost simplicity, and the Corinthian of rich yet chastened decoration. Now the i~nost critical minds, and the world at large, have for ages gene- rally acknowledged this effect of the Greek orders to be quite congenial with the spirit of Christian worship and such testimony avails more than the affirmation of any dogmatist. Nor is it of any moment that the same architectural effect was once allied with pagan worship; for the persons who make this objection find no difficulty in edifying themselves with certain ceremonies which the Catholic church borrowed from the idolatrous rites of heathen iRome.* At the same time we make no ques- tion that the different effect of the Gothic style in those countries where it has been tried, xvhatever pagan or b rbarous origin may be assigned to it, is also congenial xvi th the spirit of Christan worship. The two ef- fects, however diverse, ally them- selves xvith different elements in re- ligious truth, and different sensibili- ties of the human mind. We only * Newman in his Treatise on Christian Doctrine, (written before be became a Romnanist,) acknowledges that many cer- emonie*, and some that re retained in the church of England, were iii fact thus appropriated by the Catholic church as late as the fourth or fifth centuries. Not having the hook at hand, we can not me fcr to the place. 1848j Church Building. 23 complain of the exclusive partiality which many persons of taste now cherish for the one, as in past times for the other. Let us have both. The solemnities of the Apocalypse, such as the opening of the seals, and the pouring out of the vials, and the great white throne, and the voices as of many waters and of mighty thunderings, and the dead, small and great, standing hefore Godthese things we might feel with the most fearful interest when proclaimed under Gothic arches, sounding through long drawn aisle and fretted vault. Pauls com men- dation of charity,~ and our Lords last affectionate discourses to his dis- ciples and intercession for them,t we could hear uttered not less suit- ably from beneath the Greek entab- lature, perhaps under the dome of St. Peters. Pauls discourse of the resurrectionj is so full at once of the solemnity of death and the cheer- ful hope of the redemption of our body, that by reason of the one el- ement or the other, it can not fail to harmonize with either kind of ar- chitectural accompaniment. The gateway of a cemetery in either style is found to comport with the place, in one aspect or another, and for the same reason either style is found to be essentially appropriate to a place of Christian worship. And what we have here said of Greek architecture in its several proper orders, and of what is strictly the Gothic style, may be applied al- so to those modifications of either, and those styles whiph partake more * 1 Cor. cli. 13. t John, chaps. 1417. t 1 Cur. ch. 15. or less of one or the other, which though of later date have a charac- ter and expression of their own. The imitations of the old Norman churches, and those that are called Romanesque, are at least akin to the proper Gothic, while such churches as St. Peters and St. Pauls, though on the whole very unlike any Greek temple, are yet modifications of Greek or Roman forms, and derive from them their predominant effect. Among all the diversities of what may properly be called ecclesiasti- cal architecture, something may be found adapted to all the varieties of Christian sentiment, and possibly some outwaid form answering to every inward type of Christian char- acter and experience. However this may be, we are sure that a cath- olic liberality of sentiment ought to prevail on this subject as really as on any other, and will conduce more to improvement in church building than any exclusive or bigoted pre- ference adopted by a fashionable clique or a religious sect. We add the wish that those con- gregations in our large cities which erect churches worthy of being look- ed at, would make them easier of access to strangers, at least by the help of a notice on the building or a sexton in the vicinity. Travelers in Europe tell us that on the conti- nent houses of worship are accessi- ble at any time. In this particular they are symbolically evangelical, as we are taught that The happy gates of gospel grace Stand open night and day. And herein we are obliged to con- clude with Sterne, They do these things better in France. 24 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof Goodrich. [Jan. WEBSTERS DICTIONARY.5 WE can scarcely conceive of a more valuable contribution to the lit- erature of a country, than a good dictionary of its language. He who prepares such a work, performs a service which entitles him to the gratitude both of cotemporaries and posterity. His labors are identified ~vith the preservation of the language in its beauty and vigor, and its trans- mission as a correct vehicle of thought, from age to age. A good dictionary indeed, is an embodiment of the knowledge of a peoplea sort of fec simile of the intellect and heart of the nation whose lan. guage it unfolds. In settling the * .dn 3mericcen Dictionary of the Eng- lish Language; containing the whole Vo cabulary of the First Edition in 2 vols. quarto; the entire Corrections and tin- provements of the Second Edition in 2 vols. royal octavo; to which is prefixed an Introductory Dissertation on the Ori gin, History, and Connection of the lan- gumes of Western Asia and Europe, with an Explanation of the Principles on which langua~es are formed. By Nook Webster, LL. D., member of the American Philo- sophical Society in Philadelphia, & c. & c. General Subjects of the work: I. Ety- innologies of English Words deduced from an Examination and Comparison of Words of corresponding elements in Twenty Languages of Asia and Europe. II. The true Ortho~raphy of words as corrected by their etymologies. Itt. Pronunciation exhihited and made ohvious hy the Di- vision of Words into Syllahies, hy Ac- centuation, hy markin~ the sounds of the accented vowels ~vhen necessary, or hy general Rules. IV. Accurate and Dis- criminatin~ Definitions, illustrated when douhtful, or ohseure, by Examples of their lisa, selected from respectable Authors, or hy familiar Phrases of undisputed Au- thority. Revised and Enlarged by (haun- cey ~. Goodrich, Professor in Yale Col- lege, with Pronouncing Vocabularies of Scripture, Classical and Geographical Names. Springfield, Mass. Puhlished by Georae and Charles Merriam, corner of Main and State streets. 1848. The same Work abridged in one vol- ume royal octavo. New York: Harper and Brothers, P bkshers, 82 Cliff street. 1847. form and sound of words, in tracing their derivation, in defining their meaning, in sketching the change of each term from its primitive physi- cal sense to the remoter abstract idea, and in inarking the nice shades of thought expressed by peculiar uses, such a work performs the office of a general instructor. Carried moreover, to its proper extent, as illustrating, in many c ses, the sig- nification of phrases and the force of idiomatic expressions, and as giv- ing the synonyms of the tongue, and establishing the legitimate use of words by reference to authorities, ot. by examples from approved writers, a dictionary imparts information, in a limited compass, of more impor- tance than any other literary pro- duction. It constitutes an encyclo- pedia, in its most condensed form. In it the essence of all learning is included; and the more encyclope- diacal its character, if not too ex- tended in bulk, the better for general use. He who would produce such a work must possess or command the entire treasures of learning, embra- ced in the language of which he proposes to give a synopsis. His mind must be of the widest reach, and his taste of the most delicate susceptibility. He must be charac- terized by a love of research, by clear views of science, by refine- ment of thought, and by an appre- ciation of every species of intellec- tual beauty. The technical and learned term must be precisely ex- plained, the evanescent idea seized with a view to give it form and col- oring, the tenuous conception stereo- typed, so that its image may be ever afterwards recognized. Few minds are adequate to such a task, or rather no single mind is able to do it perfect justice; and the most thoroughly furnished one can

24 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof Goodrich. [Jan. WEBSTERS DICTIONARY.5 WE can scarcely conceive of a more valuable contribution to the lit- erature of a country, than a good dictionary of its language. He who prepares such a work, performs a service which entitles him to the gratitude both of cotemporaries and posterity. His labors are identified ~vith the preservation of the language in its beauty and vigor, and its trans- mission as a correct vehicle of thought, from age to age. A good dictionary indeed, is an embodiment of the knowledge of a peoplea sort of fec simile of the intellect and heart of the nation whose lan. guage it unfolds. In settling the * .dn 3mericcen Dictionary of the Eng- lish Language; containing the whole Vo cabulary of the First Edition in 2 vols. quarto; the entire Corrections and tin- provements of the Second Edition in 2 vols. royal octavo; to which is prefixed an Introductory Dissertation on the Ori gin, History, and Connection of the lan- gumes of Western Asia and Europe, with an Explanation of the Principles on which langua~es are formed. By Nook Webster, LL. D., member of the American Philo- sophical Society in Philadelphia, & c. & c. General Subjects of the work: I. Ety- innologies of English Words deduced from an Examination and Comparison of Words of corresponding elements in Twenty Languages of Asia and Europe. II. The true Ortho~raphy of words as corrected by their etymologies. Itt. Pronunciation exhihited and made ohvious hy the Di- vision of Words into Syllahies, hy Ac- centuation, hy markin~ the sounds of the accented vowels ~vhen necessary, or hy general Rules. IV. Accurate and Dis- criminatin~ Definitions, illustrated when douhtful, or ohseure, by Examples of their lisa, selected from respectable Authors, or hy familiar Phrases of undisputed Au- thority. Revised and Enlarged by (haun- cey ~. Goodrich, Professor in Yale Col- lege, with Pronouncing Vocabularies of Scripture, Classical and Geographical Names. Springfield, Mass. Puhlished by Georae and Charles Merriam, corner of Main and State streets. 1848. The same Work abridged in one vol- ume royal octavo. New York: Harper and Brothers, P bkshers, 82 Cliff street. 1847. form and sound of words, in tracing their derivation, in defining their meaning, in sketching the change of each term from its primitive physi- cal sense to the remoter abstract idea, and in inarking the nice shades of thought expressed by peculiar uses, such a work performs the office of a general instructor. Carried moreover, to its proper extent, as illustrating, in many c ses, the sig- nification of phrases and the force of idiomatic expressions, and as giv- ing the synonyms of the tongue, and establishing the legitimate use of words by reference to authorities, ot. by examples from approved writers, a dictionary imparts information, in a limited compass, of more impor- tance than any other literary pro- duction. It constitutes an encyclo- pedia, in its most condensed form. In it the essence of all learning is included; and the more encyclope- diacal its character, if not too ex- tended in bulk, the better for general use. He who would produce such a work must possess or command the entire treasures of learning, embra- ced in the language of which he proposes to give a synopsis. His mind must be of the widest reach, and his taste of the most delicate susceptibility. He must be charac- terized by a love of research, by clear views of science, by refine- ment of thought, and by an appre- ciation of every species of intellec- tual beauty. The technical and learned term must be precisely ex- plained, the evanescent idea seized with a view to give it form and col- oring, the tenuous conception stereo- typed, so that its image may be ever afterwards recognized. Few minds are adequate to such a task, or rather no single mind is able to do it perfect justice; and the most thoroughly furnished one can 1848.] Websters Dictionary revised by Prof Goodrich. 25 be supposed capable only of an ap- proximation to the completeness de- manded. It requires rather a com- bination of the talents and acquisi- tions of many minds, directed to that one pointan accumulation of the labors of generations, supplying the materials and shaping the course of study, so as to produce a work which shall answer fully the great end in view. And yet singularly enough, the labors bestowed upon lexicography in the English tongue, appear to have been very inconsiderable, be- fore the time of Johnson. Extend- ing through the long period from Chaucer to that illustrious philolo- gist, during which the prose of Hook- er and Bacon, and the poetry of Spenser, Shakespeare and Milton, attested the raciness, the strength, and the harmony of our language, no work of any celebrity, ascertain- ing the orthography and defining the meaning of its terms, appeared. Baileys Dictionary of the language in 2 vols. octavo, is scarcely an ex- ception; much less the work of Philips, the nephew of Milton, quaint- ly entitled, A New World of Words. Even Johnsons production, though great for the times, and great as the labor of one man, supplied the de- sideratum but in part. No one ac- quainted with the subject can fail to see, that even his herculean intellect borne up by a herculean frame, was incompetent to grapple with all the difficulties of the task. And in the masterly preface to his dictionary, he has ingenuously and beautifully acknowledged the fact. It needed less the general scholar, the pro- found thinker, and the fine writer, to prepare a vocabulary of terms, with their derivations and definitions, than a person trained up in that par- ticular study, directing all his efforts to that one point, having that single object in view as the end of his lit- erary labors and acquisitions, laying under contribution for its attainment the whole energies of his intellect, VOL. VI. 4 and living, moreover, in that period of the world when there was a suffi- cient preparation in the labors of others, for the accomplishment of such a design. Johnson made a great advance upon Bailey in the accuracy and fullness of his defini- tions; and yet tried by the standard of the present day, no small part of Johnsons definitions appear very de- ficient in logical precision and dis- criminating exactness. He defined, to a great extent, by a mere enume- ration of synonyms, though on mor- al and literary subjects, he very of- ten made admirably clear and dis- criminating statements. In the few scientific terms which he introdu- ced, he is usually vague or errone- ous. A telescope, according to him, is a long glass by which distant objects are viewed. Coral is a plant of a stony nature. Flame is light emitted from fire. Hence the necessity which exist- ed after the time of Johnson, and especially after an interval of more than sixty years, for a new diction- ary of our language. A work was needed on a more enlarged plan, and of a more scientific structure; giving fuller analogies, and nicer, more logical definitions; and em- bracing the numerous improvements in the language, caused by the pro- gress of society, and the advance- ment of knowledge and the arts. It was reserved as an honor for one of our own countrymen, to conceive the true idea of a dictionary in its completeness, and to supply the ob- vious deficiency, in an age when a new order of things began to pre- vail, and the intellect of the world was awakened to unwonted efforts. Noah Webster, imbued with an ear- ly love of all knowledge and partic- ularly of philology, having enjoyed a professional training which allow- ed him to rest in none but clear and logical definitions, gifted with a mind of unusual discrimination and vigor, and impelled by a desire of honor- able fame and usefulness, embarked 26 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. [Jan. in the undertaking. While England and English scholars were appa- rently but too well satisfied with the labors of Johnson, and extolled his dictionary as the cit ef-dcruere of the age, our author, who had alrea- dy distinguished himself by several scholar-like productions in philolo- gy, viewed the matter in a some- what different light. While he ac- corded all due praise to the cory- pheus of English literature, and ap- preciated the excellence of his dic- tionary in many points, he saw that in other respects it was defective or erroneous, and that much was need- ed to be supplied and amended for the perfection of such a work. Mul- titudes of additional terms demand- ed a place in the vocabulary, and numerous others required new and more logical definitions; to say noth- ing of the pleasure or profit of.tra- cing the origin of words embraced in so rich and varied a tongue as the English. Not only was this the case in regard to the language as it existed in the days of Johnson; but much more so, after the expiration of so long a period, when increased knowledge and discovery had intro- duced into the language thousands of words unknown before, or known only with different ideas attached to them. Dr. Webster brought to the task the requisite learning, taste, and power of philosophical analysis, and was carried forward in his la- bors of twenty years, by an enthu- siasm which submits to any extrem- ity of toil and self-denial, in the hope of realizing the ideal which the mind has formed. He appears to have been properly conscious of his manifest destiny, and was cheered under the severity of his exertions, and the incredulity or contempt which he was called to en- counter, by the belief that he should at last produce a work, which his own age and posterity would duly appreciate. The result was the publication of the American Dic- tionary of the English Language, in two vols. quarto, in 1828, than which a more valuable contribution to the literature of his native tongue was rarely, if ever, made by one man. That it was not perfect is freely ac- knoxvled ged, and that no such work can be made perfect is equally cer- tain ; but it was, what no other pub- lication could assume to be, an am- pIe and learned dictionary of the languageof the language as it pre- vailed at that time, in its advanced state, diffusing its beau ties of style and treasures of thought over a large ~c rt of two continents. The authors extended and pro- found researches into his vernacular tongue, were not in vain. His book was received with favor both by the learned and the community at large. It was ~xtensively adopted s a stand- ard of the language, and its author- ity soon ranked among the highest, if not over the highest of its prede- cessors. The author lived to see it as revised from time to time, in- creasing in reputation and use, its merits acknowledged at home and abroad, and exerting every where an auspicious influence on the cause of literature. It is not too much to say, that it is now not only the first defining dictionary of the language in point of excellence, but the dic- tionary, the one needed, and gener- ally recommended as of standard authority. Whoever inquires for the best work of this kind, whether in the booksellers shops of London, or in the book markets of the United States, will be at once directed to the American Dictionary, either in the original quarto, or in the abridged octavo form, according to the size required. That Dr. Webster improved upon Johnson, quite as much as Johnson did upon Bailey and his predeces- sors, will be conceded, we think, by all who have inquired into the sub- ject. The more accurate and ex- tended definitions of the English lexicographer he often adopted, for they could not be made better. Bat 1848.] Websters Dictionary revised by Prof Goodrich. 27 be defined by synonyms far less than Johnson. His etymological in- quiries were of signal service to him, in ascertaining the primary physical senses of words, from which the secondary senses branch off in orderly succession. He tells us in- deed in his Preface, that he was driven to his investigations into the origin of words and the fihiation of languages, by the impossibility of forming accurate and consistent defi- nitions, without previously ascer- taining the common bond which held the several meanings of a word to- geth er,the fundamental idea which pervades them all, or from which some of them have been deflected by accidental causes. He was led in this way, and by the logical char- acter of his early studies in the school of Blackstone, to form an ideal of a definition which was far more exact than that of any other English lexicographer; and it is this feature which has given to his dic- tionary, notwithstanding some abate- ments, its decided preeminence over every other, in the estimation of the public, both in this country and in England. In addition to this, he rendered very important service to the cause of lexicography, by intro- ducing, for the first time, the most essential terms of science and art, now so extensively employed in pe- riodicals and other literary works, as to require an explanation for the benefit of the general reader, as well as for the refreshment of the memories of the learned. Thus he gave to the world a dictionary con- taining twelve thousand words, and between thirty and forty thousand definitions, not to be found in any similar work in our language, and very greatly increased the number of additional terms, by his subse- quent revisions. We have, there- fore, in his work an admirable foundation on which to build a su- perstructure of continually increas- ing excellence. It ought, like the French Dictionary of the Academy, to be made the subject of successive revisions, from time to time, which shall remove every error that may be detected, and enable it to keep pace with the steady advancement of our language, in the various de- partments of literature, science, and the arts. That the present is a period at which such a revision was peculiarly desirable, will be obvious if ~ve con- sider the progress which has been making in this country and Great Britain, on all subjects of a literary and scientific nature, during the last ten or fifteen years. The a mind, on both sides of the Atlantic, has been putting itself forth with an energy and compass of thought, never perhaps equaled at any for- mer period. Science has made greater advances, art effected more extensive revolutions, speculation set up higher pretensions, discovery been reduced more completely to a system, and intelligence diffused more widely than ever before, thus adding new combinations of thought; while the facilities of traveling have brought the world together, and placed the intellect of both countries in the closest contact with the phi- losophy, politics, and literature of the most enlightened nations of the globe. These powerful influences have been acting with correspondent force on our language. The characteris- tics of the age are impressed on the medium through which its thoughts are conveyed. Terms belonging to old theories have been revived or modified, in order to illustrate new doctrines. An immense number of words have been invented or bor- rowed from other languages, to ex- plain new systems. Terms in fa- miliar use have taken on them ad- ditional or l)ecuiiar significations, to mark nicer distinctions, or to accord with altered views. The classifica- tions of science have to a great ex- tent, been broken up and remodeled with a change of nomenclature. A 28 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodric 1,. [Jan~ host of literary authors has arisen, among whom are men of peculiar habits of thought, or unwonted sour- ces of illustration, who, by their commanding genius, have given a new cast to the literature of the age. Thus, besides the thousands of words which have been added to the vari- ous departments of science and art; a multitude of others, neither tech. nical nor scientific, have made them- selves room and a place in the lan- guage. The general result of these changes, though with some draw- backs, has been highly beneficial. They are the record of signal ad- vances of the English intellect. Our language is becoming, on the whole, not only more copious in its vocab- ulary, more rich in its descriptive terms, more picturesque in its rep- resentations, more vivid in its color- ings; but also more logical and ex- act, more nice in its discrimination of the various shades of thought, more free and bold in its construc- tions, and more thoroughly fitted to express the whole mind of a great, enlightened, and energetic people. Connected with this progress, we may notice another change of the highest importance to the perfection of our language. It is the preva- lence of much greater exactness in regard to definitions. Any one who examines our books of natural sci- ence as tl)ey were forty years ago, and compares them with corres- pondent works of the present day, will be struck with the improvement in this respect. The loose, vague, descriptive mode of identifying ob- jects which then prevailed, has been exchanged for definite and discrimin- ating staterne nts, fora lucid exhibition of the various distinctive properties, by which the object in question may he known and recognized. In this respect, our men of science have gained much from the French natu- ralists, and may gain still more, by a careful imitation of these admira- ble models. A greater exactness of definition is beginning to prevail, in most other branches of knowledge. The translation of several lexicons and grammars from the German language, and the consequent exten- sion of the severe system of Ger- man philology, have elevated the views of many, especially among the learned. It is beginning to be generally felt that the definition of a word by synonyms, is no defini- tion at all,that such a description must be iven as exhausts the char- acteristic properties of the thing de- scribed, and distinguishes each word, as far as possible, in all its senses, from every other term which may resemble it in meaning. Nothing can be more desirable than to see this attention to the exact import of language carried, in its full extent, throughout every department of life. Accuracy of definition is essential to accuracy of thought. In respect to most minds, in every community, it is emphatically true, as remarked by iVlirabeau, that words are things. Every reflecting man knows, that multitudes are made the dupes of demagogues, by an artful use of terms and phrases which are the watchwords of party. It is a lamentable fact, that the most im- portant moral distinctions are often overlooked or disregarded, for want of that clearness of perception which springs from accuracy in the use of language. Every good man mourns over the ruinous contentions in the church, the exhausting controversies between rival theologians, and the personal animosities between breth- ren of a common faith, which have sprung from careless and ambiguous phraseology,from the want of meeting each other fairly on the grounii of exact definition. The same effect has also proceeded from undue attachment to certain favorite forms of expression, and from undue dislike of others which have become the objects of jealousy or dread. Every advance, therefore in respect to correctness of definition, as it promotes correspondent progress in 1848.] Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. 29 general correctness of thought, must be regarded as a great and lasting benefit to the people among whom it obtains. To record these advancements of our language, and to aid in reducing definition more completely to a sci- ence, is the appropriate office of a dic- tionary like this. For this purpose, a revision was necessary, extending to every department embraced with- in its limits. Such a revision our readers are aware was commenced some years ago, the results of which are now laid before us, in the vol- umes whose titles have been placed at the head of this paper. Their appearance, so long promised, and delayed only from the magnitude of the enterprise and the desire to sat- isfy every reasonable expectation, has been looked for by the public, with a lively interest. Nineteen years have elapsed since the fire publication of the American Dic- tionary, and although the venerable author did all for its subsequent im- provement, that could be fairly ex- pected from one of his advanced years, it is obvious from what has been said above, that a minute, pro- tracted, and searching revision of the work was due to the public. We rejoice that Prof. Goodrich, the editor, has been willing to apply his industry and learning in the present form, making the work of Dr. Web- ster, rather than any new design, the foundation of his labors. He has taken the only method, it is be- lieved, in which we can obtain such a dictionary of our language as we need; and that is, to retain all the real and desirable improvements of the past, to shape and modify the work, from time to time, in agree- ment with the process of successive changes, and to superinduce what- ever may have been incorporated into the language, as a permanent integral part. This the editor has attempted to do, and of his perform- ance we design at present to give a succinct account. The labors of Prof. Goodrich have been bestowed conjointly on the large dictionary of Dr. Webster and the octavo abridgment of it by Joseph E. Worcester, LL. D., which has been extensively circulated through- out our country. The former work, as here presented, consists of a royal quarto volume containing every thing embraced in the first edition, with the addition of a very large amount of highly valuable matter, which has been introduced into the work, in the successive revisions to which it has been subjected. All this, by the use of a smaller type and great- er compression, has been brought within the compass of a single vol- ume of fourteen hundred and forty- nine pages. The abridgment is a royal octavo of twelve hundred and eighty-nine pages, containing all the words, and the most important ety- mologies to be found in the quarto edition. The definitions, as we are told in the Preface, remain un- altered, except by an occasional compression in their statement. All the significations of words, as ex- hibited in the larger work are here retained, but the illustrations and authorities are generally omitted. In doubtful or contested cases, how- ever, they are carefully retained. The revision, as stated above, has been extended equally to this and the quarto edition, and the results embodied in each, in due proportion, including all the additions and im- provements made by Dr. Webster, in his successive revisions, down to the period of his death, enlarging the abridgment by a very great amount of the most interesting and important matter, and rendering it on a reduced scale, a clear, ac- curate, and full exhibition of the American Dictionary, in all its parts. No one, not even a professed re- viewer, can be expected to read through a dictionary, of which the abridgment alone, if printed in the type and size of this review, would 30 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. [Jan. fill nearly seven octavo volumes. We have endeavored, however, by an extended and careful examina- tion, to acquaint ourselves fully with the improvements made by Prof. Goodrich. We have collated the revised edition with the old one, in almost every part of the volume, and as the result of the task, we feel a perfect conviction, that he has given to the work, a completeness, fullness, and accuracy, hitherto un- attained in a work of this kind. The additions and emendations strike us as being singularly to the purpose, and adapted to satisfy the demands of an inquiring and advancing age. The great mass of words,the old and familiar terms of the language, have received sufficient attention, any new senses they may have ac- quired being carefully marked, while words of special interest, as connect- ed with the exciting discussions of the present times, and with the prin- ciples of science and art more re- cently developed, have been more minutely defined and illustrated. A vast accession of materials, and a very great amount of labor and tal- ent, have evidently been brought in, to render the work more complete as a standard of the English tongue, and as a depository of all its legiti- mate terms, with their appropriate meanings. In this revision the edi- tor has spent nearly three years, with the addition of more than two years of labor by each of the gen- tlemen who assisted him. rpht his qualifications for the task were of a high order, none will doubt, who are acquainted with his clear, prompt, and highly practical intellect, xvith his ardor of mind and habits of in- dustry, and with the course of his studies from early life, and esl)ecial- ly during the last thirty years, the whole of which may be said to have been devoted to the culture of lan- guage. His relationship, as son-in- law, to Dr. Webster, may be suppo- sed also to have given him important advantages for the work in question; since from a full knowledge of the lexicographers views, and a natural participation in his feelings, he would have the strongest motives to carry out the original plan of the work, and labor for its accomplish- merit to the extent of his power. How much may be accomplished during such a length of time, with the editors rapidity of comprehen- sian and thorough habits of study, and with able helpers, may he read- ily imagined. We should certainly be apt to expect correspondent im- provements, and if we mistake not, they appear in the work. Some of these we will now briefly notice in detail. The addition of Synonyms to the abridgment, we deem a happy fea- ture of the work. The space which they occupy is inconsiderable, while their utility is not small. To per- ~ns engaged in literary composi- tion, oratory, or teaching, it is often desirable to have at hand a list of terms that are synonymous, or nearly synonymous in meaning. Their use relieves the page of the writer or the address of the speaker, from a tedious sameness that might other- wise be felt. The appearance of richness and variety in the expres- sion, is always acceptable to the reader or hearer. As a matter, then, of easy reference, in a general dic- tionary, this arrangement can not but be appreciated. In such a shape we believe it is no where elsa found. Works in some respects similar have been constructed, as Carpenters, and Perrys, for instance ; but ei- ther for different purposes, or in less convenient forms. The plan of this portion of the work, as the editor states in his Preface, is the follow- ing. Under each of the important ~vords, all others having the same general signification are arranged together, except in cases where they have been previously exhausted in framing the definitions. Out of the list, a selection may be made at the option of those who may need 1848.] Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. 31 this aid. We refer our readers to a very few words as examples. A-BANDONED. Syx. Forsaken; desert- ed; destitute; abject; forlorn; profligate corrupt; vicious; depraved ; reprobate; wick- ed; heinous; criminal; vile; odious; de- testable. COMMON. Syx. General; public; pop- ular; national; universal; frequent; ordina- ry cu~tomsry ; usual ; familiar ; habitual vulgar mean, trite, stale; threadbare; corn- mon-plas e MO s I Sv~ P stir; agitate; trouble; affect ~~ersitade,influence; actuate; impel; rouse, prompt, instigate; incite; induce; incline propose offer. RUDE Sv~ Rough; uneven; shape- less un~a~htoned rugged ; artless ; unpol- ished uncouth inelegant rustic ; coarse vu ar donnish i-ca unskillful untaught; illiterate is-nor-tnt uncix it impolite ; im- pertinent sau~ impudent insolent; sur- ly ; cut i ~i churlish brutal uncivilized barbatous ~axas-e xiolent fierce; ssirnisl- moos iurbnlent imaetuous boisterous; harsh inclement sexcie SDJ Pt E SvN ~ingle uncompounded; unreir ~li d unmixed mere uncombiried; elementarx plain artless sincere; harm- less; unde~tgted frank open unaffected; iiiartificual unadorned credulous; silly ftolislu ; shallow ; unwise. The richness of these several groups xviii he seen nt once, and this is true of hundreds of others. In the Definitions, which all ac- knowledge to he the most important part of a dictionary, numerous im- ptovements have heen made, in the lresent revision; as very great im- provements certainly xvere made by Dr. Webster in his original xvork, over every one that preceded it. The editor has carried out the lexi- co graphers principles, and given no explanation of any important xvord (so ftti as we ohserve) hy mere syn- onyms; hut has enumerated the dis- tinclive pmperties of the objects, and expressed them with great clear- ness and precision. There has ev- idently heen an advance here, of the most desirahie nature. The ex- cellence of a definition lies chiefly in its distinctness and amplitude, separating, as it does, the term from every similar one, pi-esenting its ni- cer shades of meaning, and exhaust- ing the various senses in which it may he used. In this fealure of the work, xve have seen nothing superi or to it in the range of English lite- rature. The most subtile individu- alizing, and the widest reach of com- bination, seem to have heen brought to hear on the work, to give it a fin- ished character as a defining dic- tionary. This remark, we think, will be abundantly verified by some specimens to he presently offered. As a means of securing accuracy in correcting the definitions, the ed- itor says No efforts have been spared to obtain the most recent and valuable works, not only in lexicography, but in the various depariments of science and tlte arts enbrticed in the Americasi Dictionary. As these subjects are in a state of continual progress, every impor- tant word, in its v. rioits applicatiosts, has been diligently examined and compared with the statements made on each topic, by she la- test and most approved authorities.Prrf, p. 2. In addition to the latest English dic- tionaries, the editor enumerates be- txveen twenty and thirty special dic- tionaries and scientific xvorks which xvere collated or used throughout, in the business of correction. rfhese, xve are gratified to say, are all stand- ard works, most of them of recent date, such asthe 0 ford Glossa- ry of Architecture; Dr. Ures Dic- tionary of Manifactures, Arts and Mines, with its Supplement; Her- berts Engineers and Mechanics Cyclopedia; M Cuilochs Commer- cial Dictionary; Partingtons Brit- ish Cyclopedia of Natural History; Jardines Naturalists Library; Campbells Military Dictionary, besides Brande, and the Penny Cyciopedia, & c. & c. But the editor has not relied on himself alone in using these works. He has justly remarked It is obviously impossible for any one mirud to embrace with accuracy all the vari- ous departments of knowledge which are now brought within tile compass nf a diction- ary. ilence arise most of tie errors ansI in- consistencies which abound in works of this kindP u-ef,p. 3. He has therefore obtained the as- sistance of different gentlemen, each distinguished in his own department, in revisin .~ and correcting the more difficult parts of the volume, espe 32 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. [Jan. cially the scientific portions. Of these, we find enumerated in the Pre- face, the names of Dr. JAMES G. PERCIVAL, who carried the revision cf most of the articles through two letters of the alphabet; of the Hon. ELIZOR GOoDRICH, who took charge uf the articles on law; of the Rev. JAMES MURDOCK, D. D., to whom were assigned the departments of ecclesiastical history and ancient philosophy; of Prof. SILLiMAN, to whom the terms in chemistry were submitted; of Dr. WILLIAM TULLY, whose revision was extended to nu- merous articles in the departments of anatomy, physiology, medicine, botany, and some other branches of Datural history; of Prof. GIBBS, who afforded aid on topics connected with oriental literature ; of Prof. OLM- STED, who revised the articles on astronomy, meteorology, and natu- ral philosophy; of Prof. STANLEY, to whom the definitions in mathe- matics were submitted; of JAMES D. DANA, Esq., whose revision in- cluded the sciences of geology and mineralogy, and whose assistance was bestowed on various other sub- jects; of EDWARD C. HERRICK, Esq., who furnished aid on practical astronomy and the science of ento- mology; and of NATHANIEL JocE- LYN, Esq., under whose inspection passed many of the articles on paint- ing and the fine arts. The efficient services of these gentlemen, each in his own portion of the work, in making the necessary additions, emendations, or corrections, are ful- ly acknowledged. It may likewise be noticed, that the editor in furtherance of his ob- ject, carried on a correspondence with literary and scientific gentle- men in England, from whom infor- mation was solicited and received, on certain points, where published authorities were wanting, or could not be procured. In consequence of this measure, light has been thrown on the use of terms which, in England, have a peculiar sense. Of these, some are of frequent oc- currence at the universities, in the circles of trade, and in the familiar intercourse of life. The value of the minute knowledge thus gained will be felt by every reader among us, who has an interest in English history and customs. This range of aid and inquiry gives the work, it will readily be seen, an advantage never before en- joyed by any English dictionary, that of an encyclopedia, in which the labors of numerous individuals are combined to secure greater com- pleteness and accuracy for the whole. Although we might rest with confi- dence on such evidence of the im- provements made in this revision; yet according to our intimation above, we will give a few speci- mens of words, in different depart- ments. We refer to the word Attraction, so frequently employed in physical philosophy. The importance of a full and correct definition is obvious. AT-TRACTION, ss. 1. In physics, the power or force which draws bodies or their particles inward each other, or which causes them to tend toward each other, or to resist a counteracting tendency; or the law by which they tend toward each other, or resist a coun- teracting tendency. Attraction is distinguished into that which is manifested between bodies or masses at s& nsible distances, and that which is mani- fested between the particles or molecules of bodies at insensible dist nces. The former inclutles the attraction of 0ravity, or gravita- tion, or the mutual tendency of all bodies to each other, as the tendency of the planets toward the sun, or of a stone, when raised in the air, so fall to the earth ; and also, the at- tractioss of magnetism, and that ?I electricity. The latter takes place either between parti- cles of the same kind, or homogeneous parti- cles, and is then called the attraction oj ag- ~reatioss, or cohesion; or between dissimilar or heterogeneous particles, uniting them into compounds, and is then called chemical at- traction, or affinity. The attractions of the first class, however, exist between particles as well as masses; and the surfaces of mass- es in contact, or at inappreciable distances, also attract each other, causing adhesion, in heterogeneous as welt as homogeneous bodies. The attraction of gravity is supposed to be the great principle which confines the plait- ets in their orbits. Its loAer or force is di- rectly as the qu ntity of matter in a body, and inversely as the squares of the distances of the attracting bodies. 1848.] Websters Dictionary revised by Prof Goodrich. 2. The act of attracting; the effect of the principle of attraction. 3. Ihe power or act of alluring, drawing to, inviting, or engaging; a~,the attraction of beauty or eloquence. Elective attraction, or elective affinity, in chemistry, is the tendency of those substan- ces in a mixture to combine, which have the strongest attraction. This must be pronounced a clear and sufficient explanation of the term, in its variotts uses. We turn to the word Transcen- dentalism, a word of comparatively modern origin, and essential to the right understanding of the profound speculations of a class of philoso- phers. The explanation of the term given by Dr. Murdock, is to us highly instructive, and may be no- ticed as an instance of that improve- ment in definition, by which this volume is so often characterized. TRANS-CEND-ENTAL-ISM, a. in the Kantian philosophy, the transcending or going beyond empiricism, and ascertaining a priori the futtdamental principles of human know- ledge. But, as Schelling and 1-legel claimed to have discovered the absolute identity of the ohjective and sttbjective in human know- ledge, or of things and human conceptions of them, the Kantinn distinction between trans- cendent5 and transcendental ideas can have no place in their philosophy. And hence, with them, transcendentalism claims to have a true knowledge of all things material and immaterial, human and divine, so far as the mind is capable of knowing them. And in this sense the word transcendentalism is now most itsed.Murdock. The word is also sometimes used for that which is vague and illusive in philosophy. Of the word Orotund, the defini- tion is sticcinet and beautiful, and given in language whose sound is almost an echo of the sense. ORO-TUND, a. A mode of intonation di- rectly from the larynx, which has a fullness, clearness, strength, smoothness, and ringing or musical quality, which forms the highest perfection of the human voiceRush. We are glad to see the word Apodosis fully explained in this edition. It had previously been given from Johnson, as the appli- cation or latter part of a similitude. The term is a grammatical one now much used, and every pupil should know its precise meaning. This is given in the text. A-PODO-SIS, a. [Grj In grammar, the principal clause of a conditional sentence, expressing the result as distinguished from the pratasis or subordinate clause, which ex- presses a condition. Thus, in the sentence, Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him, the former clattse is the protasis, anti the lat- ter the apodosis. By some respectahte gram- marians, this distitiction is not continect to conditional sentences, bttt is extended to oth- ers similarly constructed. Echatic, a recent term in gram- tnar, very properly has a place in this work, the definition of which is concisely given and illustrated. The illttstration shows how it is distin- guished from the word lelic, also a new term. The word Boodltism, as explain- ed in the present work, claims our attention. BOODHISM, n. A system of religion in Eastern Asia, embraced by more than one third of the human race it teaches that, at distant imttervals, a Boodh, or deity, appears, to restore the world from a state of ignttrance and decay, and then sinks into a sttste of en- tire non-existence, or rather, perhaps, of bare existence without attributes, action, or con- sci(tttsness. This state, called Nirvana, or Nichan, is regarded as the ultimate supreme gtmod, and the highest reward of virtue among men. Four Boodha imave thus appeared in the world, and passed into Nirvana. the last of whom, Gattdama, became incarnate about 600 years beft)re Christ. From itis death, in 543 B. C., utatty thousand years will elapse before tlte appearance of anotimer; so that the system, in the meatm time, is practically one of pure atheism. The objects of wor- ship, until another Boodh appears, are the relics and images of Gaudama. The information here presented is curious, and well deserves the no- tice of the reader. The terms Sabjective and Objec- live are explained with scientific precision, and nothing seems to be wanting to make their separate sen- ses perfectly clear and obvious. We qtiote Subjective alone, as being the more fully explained. SUB-JE~TtIVE, a. An epithet applied to tbose internal states of thought or feeling of which time mind is time subject; opposed to ob- jective, which is applied to things considered as separate from the mind, and as objects of its attention. Fhus, subjective troth or reality is that which is verified by consciousness; objective truth or reality is that which results 33 * This word in tbe philosophy of Kant, de- notes transcending or going beyond the bounds of human knowledge, and is applied to that which is baseless or illusory. VOL. VI. 5 34 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. from the nature and relations of things. A subjective motive is an internal feeling or pro- pensity; an objective motive is something ex- ternal to the mind, which is suited to awaken desire. Subjective views are those which are produced or modified hy internal feeling; ob- jective views are those which are governed by external objects. That which is subjec- tive in one relation may he objective in anoth- er. Thus, subjective states of mind, when re- called and dwelt on for the purpose of inspec- tion or analysis, become objective.Encyc. Amer. The correlative terms subjective and objective, it is needless to say, are now mitch used in philosophy, as adopled from German writers, and should stand out each clearly iden- tified in its meaning. This is one of the cases in which a marked im- provement might be expected in re- spect to definitions. It is strikingly seen by comparing the above with the current definition of subjective, as given from Johnson in Ihe former edition, where its meaning is simply stated to be, Relating to the subject, as opposed to the object. The word Sensation is very hap- pily defined in its several meanings. SEN-SATION, n. 1. In mental philos- ophy, an impression made upon the mind through the medium of the senses. It differs from perception, which is the knowledge of external ohjects consequent on sensation. 2. Feeling awakened by external objects, or by some change in the internal state of the bo- dy; as, a sensation of heaviness, & e. 3. Feeling awakened hy immaterial objects; as, sensations of awe in the divine presence. 4. A state of excited interest or feeling; as, the sensaaon caused by the appearan(-e of that work is still remembered by many. Bronghaot. In the earlier editions of the diction- ary, it was given from the Encyclo- pedia Britannica, as the perception of external objects by means of the senses. On the definition of the word In- duclion, we might comment, if tte- cessary. It is an instance of so clear and philosophic an explana- tion, that no reflecting mind, as ap- pears to us, but must dwell upon it wilh pleasure. IN-DUCTION, n. 1. Literally, a bring- ing in; introduction; entrance. 2. Ihe bringing forward of particulars, or individual cases, with a view to establish some general conclusion. 3. A kind of argument which infers respecting a whole class what has been ascertained respectin~ one or more individt~- als of that class Whuteley. This is the in- ductive method of Bacon, and is the direct re- verse of logical deduction. it ascends from the parts to the whole, and forms, from the general analogy of nature or special pre- sumptions in the case, conclusions which have greater or less degrees of force, and which may be strengthened or weakened by subsequent experience. It relates to actual existences, as in physical science or the con- cerns of life. Deduction, on the contrary, de- scends from the whole to some included p-art, its inferences are necessary conclu~inns ac cording to the laws of thought being merely the mental recognition of scime paiticulars, us included nod contained in something gen eral. 4. The inference of some general truth from all the particulars embro ed uiidni it, as legitimated by the laws of ihonThi and abstracted from the conditions of ~iny psi tic ular matter. Ttiis may he called rnetuphpt- cal induction, and should be carefully di~tin gttished froni the illations of physics spoken of above. 5. The conclusion or inference drawn from a process of induction. 6. The introduction of a person into an office by the usual forms and ceremonies. 7. in electrici- ty, an it;fiuence exerted by an electrified bo- dy through a non-conducting bridy without any apparent comununication of a spark. Olmsted. 8. In old plays, an introductory scene leading to the main action. Of the word Reformed, a full and satisfactory definition is given, which the student will recognize as being necessary, from the want of such definition in other vocabularies. RE-FORMED (re-formd), pp. 1. Resto- red to a good state; amended; corrected.2. a. In ecclesiastical history, a term denoting, in its widest sense, all who separated from the Roman Catholic Church at the era of the Re- formation. In a more specific sense, it de- notes those who separated from Luther on the doctrine of consubstantiation, & c., and carried the reforvuatiorn, as they claimed, to a higher point. The Protestant churches found- ed by them in Switzerland, France, Holland, and part of Germany, were called the Re- formed churchesEncyc. Am. In the large number of words which we have taken the pains to collate and examine, we have not remarked an instance of a loose, careless, or illogical definition, re- matntng. Of the philosophic, as well as poetic character of our lan- guage, of its capacity for logical precision, as well as for passionate painting,of its adaptation to ex- press sound sense and severe rea- soning, equally with the finer play of the imagination,of its fitness as the dialect both of Ihe mind and the heart, at one time sounding the [Jan. 1848.1 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof Goodrich. 35 depths of science, and at anothei stirring up the intense emotions of the bosom, we have seen the most convincing proof, in examining these graphic definitions. There is about many of them the delicatc touch, the clear delineation, the perfect ex- pression of a daguerreotype like- ness. We find numerous terms in this volume explained with clearness, for the first time, particularly a consid- erable number used in the English universities, and therefore interest- ing to scholars. Prof. Goodrich, from his connection with a college, seems to have taken a peculiar in- terest in ascertaining the exact sense of the terms most used at these seats of learning. Among those terms are the Senate, Syndic, Proctor, Mod- erator, Taxor, Responsion, Sizar, Servitor, Pensioner, Gentleman pen- sioner, Commoner, Fellow common- er, Public Orator, Resent, iVan- regent, Tripos.paper, Sophister, or Soph. The latter contains an inter- esting statement. The word Soph- omore has generally been considered as an Americanism, being at present unknown at the English universities. The editor has given the result of an investigation of the subject, which shows, that the word must have been derived from the university of Cambridge in England, having been there employed as a cant term, un- der the spelling of Soph-Mor, though it has almost ceased to be known, even as such a term, at the place of its origin.* We should like to quote the account in his own langua ge,as given in the dictionary, but our lim- its will not permit the insertion. In connection with this we would ob- serve, that the information which is given us respecting the term soph- ister, is what we do not find in other dionaries. Some thousands of words have been added in the course of this re- vision. As a specimen of these ad- ditions the following may be men- tioned, viz, to abduct, v. t., air-plant, alarm-clock, armature (of a magnet), anastatic-printing, argand, astral, and carcel lamp, baptism (hypothet- ica I), beeswax, black-walnut, black- vomit, bench-warrant, blue-stocking, bobbinet, bengal-lig/tt, brass-band, boulevard, brasseis-sprouts, bude- light, bulbal, caveat (in patents), chaparral, to chair a person, chari- van, chiltern- hundreds, club- house, clearing-house, contrast v - i ,coup6 (part of a French diligence), combination-room (at Cambridge), coupon, drummond-light, eminent- domain (in law), eulogistic, flying- buttress, fancy- ball, faro-bank,flssi- parism, free-port, ground-form (in grammar), gradient, s4un-cotton, herds grass, hedge (in betting), hos- pice, to ignore (in law), lay-figure, left-handed or inorganic marriage, lilliputian, lombard- house, leverage, letter of credit, lunch, v. i., to lim- ber and unlimber guns, middle-man (in Ireland), messianic, maiden-as- size, malestrom, ormolu, orotund, pa- pier-mache, prairie-dog, philopena, poudrette, propeller, polka, paleozo- ic, pre-pay, pre-payment, Fusepism, pass-book, punka, port-fire, quantita- tive and qualitative (in chentistry), quippa, quizzical, ranch o, ranchero, red-letter day, rouge et noir ,rock- wg- stone, refrigerator, to rack (for am ble), rosette, safety-valve, shake- down, serial, soofeism, stampede, stand-point, Swedenborgian, spit- toon, shako, silicin, sessional, sewer- age, steeple- chase, sanitary, sea - let- ter, supervisory, spatch-cock [Eng.], steam-whistle, tram-road, true- blue, trappean, ticket-porter, turn- table, teocalli, upheaval, union (of a flag), vegetable-ivory, ware-housing sys- tem, & c. & c. This list might be enlarged to any extent, showing that the words added are not local, or unimportant, but most of them such as demand an explanation. The editor, in his Preface, has judicious- ly laid down the principles on which he has admitted new words into this * Its generatly supposed etyrnotogy woutd therefore seem to be a mistake. ~36 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. [Jan. volume. He would observe a me- dium between the licentiousness now prevalent, especially in England, and the refusal to adopt such terms as from frequent and necessary use, seem to require an insertiOn. [le might have enlarged the catalogue to a much greater length, especially in regard to technical and scientific terms; hut he has felt the necessity rather of abridgment than of exten- sion. ft should he remarked, that among the very proper additions that have been made, in part by Dr. Webster and in part by the editor, is the insertion of several hundred words from the learned or foreign languages, which are frequently quo- ted in English literature. They are printed in Italics to show that they are not naturalized, and have the pronunciation marked. Of this class the following words or phrases are a spec imenpersonnel, regime, re- sums, denouement, qui vive, proces- verbal, sub-rosa, & c. In numerous instances new sig- nifications have been added to words already in the language. Thus the sense of absorption for entire occu- pation; adventure for striking oc- a currenee; accident for a casual and unfortunate occurrence ; remon- strance for a frame in ~vhich the host is elevated in Roman Catholic churches; alternate for substitute in some ecclesiastical bodies; to ap- propriate for to set apart or vote money; appropriation in a corres- pondent sense; ascetic for one who practices undue rigor or self-denial in religious things ; a scene for an exhibition of pathetic or passionate feeling between two or more per- sons; recent in geology denoting subsequent to the creation of man to propose for offer ones self in marriage; leader for the leading editorial in a newspaper, are exam- ples of additions in this respect. So also the peculiar sign ificat ions of the words which are italicised, in the fol- lo~ving l)hrases, have been added in this revision. The attachment of a muscle, the approach of a country- seat, a block of buildings, the safe of a bank, an orphan asylum, a mason- ic lodge, a ships register, a running fire, a plunging fire, to muster troops into service or out of service, to abstract goods from a parcel, the abstraction of money, the right side of a piece of cloth, to rate a chro- nometer, to wind a ship, & c. We notice nice and learned dis- tinctions, or more exact ones than formerly, added to the meanings of the words, natural, naturalism, na- tivity, outfit, reciprocal, rectification, secondary, secular, spherical, fore- shorten, granulation, hypochondria, machine, axis, azote, concrete, dis- crete, drift, entrepot, essential, gauge, function, debris, and others which we have examined. The origin of phrases or words is often accounted for by the editor, in a new and interesting manner, as the following, for instance, to send to Coventry, to show the white feath- er, to curse by bell, book, and candle, red- letter day, all-spice, wall- eye, wail-eyed, Charless-wain, vignette, & c. Our readers will perceive that Prof. Goodrich has marked most of the words which are peculiar to our country, as, appreciate for rise in value, and stigmatized many expres- sions in general use among us, as a bad fix, balance for remainder, & c. He has also noted a class of words which have been considered as the coinage of our country, but which were brought with them, by our an- cestors from Great Britain, and are still used there as local or provincial terms. In his Preface he observes The recent investigations of Forby, holloway, and Halliwell have thrown much light on the sub- ject; and the names of these au- thors are therefore frequently placed under the words in question, to indi- cate their origin and their present use in England? In regard, then, to the class of words which are sup- posed to be exclusively employed 1848.] Websters Dictionary revised by Prof Goodrich. 37 in the United States, the editor, we believe, has done all that was requi- site to indicate what are legitimate words, and what ones should be dis- carded from the language. The cir- cumstances in which we are placed as a nation, may authorize the use of a few terms that are not common to the tongue, and are employed to represent objects that are not known elsewhere; and the editor thinks they are comparatively few. The subject of Orthography is almost the only one, in respect to which objections to Dr. Websters dictionary, have been generally prevalent. On this point, the edi- tor, it is believed, has made all rea- sonable concessions to the public feeling and opinion. Important al- terations in this respect appear in these volumes, since he has restored numerous words to the old estab- lished spelling, while lie has endeav- ored at the same time, to maintain throughout the work, a correct and consistent system. Dr. XVebsters changes of orthography were found- ed on two different grounds, one of which was that of etymology. It seemed to him proper that a princi- ple generally so clear, should be adopted as a guide in spelling, es- pecially as the learned would be able to estimate its importance. He accordingly made changes, in cer- tain classes of words, in agreement with this principle. But although many of the intelligent of this coun- try, and numbers of European crit- ics highly approved the measure, lie found that the mass of the commu- nity were still strongly attached to the old mode of spelling. The con- victions produced by a twelve years trial, resulted in his restoring to a considerable number of such words the accustomed orthography. In the present edition, that orthography is restored in nearly all of this class that remained, including such words as chimistry, fether, hainous, maiz, me/asses, ribin, zink, & c. The ed- itor assigns as the reason2 that as they (i. e. this class of Dr. W.s changes) do not relate to the gen- eral analogies of the language, and can not be duly appreciated by the body of the people, they will never be generally received. In the light of criticism and strict propriety, however, we may be permitted to say, that the necessity of abandon- ing them is to be regretted, inas- niuch as when we go back to the ety mology of a word, we take it in its simple and pure form, in which it can best be recognized; and it is not without some mortification, that we contrast the ready acquiescence of the German nation in such chan- ges of orthography, with the stout resistance of the English people. We doubt not that the editor has done wisely in this matter, and that thus the work will be rendered more acceptable to the community ; for changes, though improvements they may be, and desirable in themselves, if in advance of the public feeling, or in opposition to it, are after all, of questionable utility. The other ground of changes in orthography was that of analogy. The principle which Dr. Webster maintained here, and justly main- tained, was, that the tendencies of our language to greater simplicity and broader analu~ies, ought to be watched and cherished with the ut- mostcare. Hefelt, therefore, that whenever a movement towards wider analogies and more general rules, had advanced so fur as to leave but few exceptions to impede its pro- gress, these exceptions ought to be set aside at once, and the analogy rendered complete. He therefore struck out the letter u from all such words as favour, honour, & c., the number being now very small in which the u is retained by any one. In this, his example has been very generally followed in our country, and the omission of the letter has proved a great convenience. On similar grounds, lie proposed to change re into er in such words as 38 Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. [Jan. centre, metre, & c., there being but fifteen or twenty left, out of some hundreds belonging to thi sclass;all of which may be easily conformed to analogy, except some two or three, whose proper pronunciation might be endangered by the change. The doubling of the 1 in such words as libelling, levelling, travelling, & c. he omitted in accordance with one of the best established principles of the language, namely, that it is only when the accent falls on the last syllable, that the consonant ending the word to which a formative is added, should be doublednot when the accent falls on any preceding syllable. This change was first re- commended by Bishop Lowth, and was strongly approved by Walker. XVhy an exception should ever have been made in respectto i, itisdifllcult to say. Again; the letter s instead of c, is now generally introduced into the spelling of the words formerly written ,e cave, licence, recompence, because the former consonant is the only one used in the derivatives, as expensive, & c. On the same ground the words offense, pretense, defense, require the same alteration, and have received it from the hand of Dr. Webster. These changes would be regarded by every one as improve- ments, if they could only be render- ed familiar to the public eye. The whole difficulty lies in the force of habit and association. This is daily becoming less, for Dr. \Vebsters orthography in these respects, has been extensively adopted tn various parts of our country; and the pub- lic will be much more likely to ap- prove them, since the reasons de- rived from analogy are more easily perceived and appreciated than those dependent on etymology. In the present revision, Prof. Goodrich has very properly given the orthography of the contested words, for the most part in both ways. The subject of Pronunciation has been somewhat canvassed in con- nection with Dr. Websters system. Efforts have at times been made to underrate him as being deficient or erroneous, upon some points, in this department. But time, we believe, has worked some changes, and will work more, in favor of his pronun- ctation, as a whole. It has been sanctiotied, to a great extent, by the best speakers both in England and America. In respect to partic- ulars in which he differs from other ortho& pists, his reasons seem to have been thoroughly weighed. Each ortho6pist has his peculiarity, all differ from one another in some re- spects, and no one has hit that ex- act point which can command the suffrages of all, and produce a uni- versality of practice. There are cases of disputed pronunciation which probably never will be set- tled. The most approved speakers differ, and that only can be the best pronunciation, which obtains the consent of the largest number of the well-educated and well-bred of a nationthe more prevailing prac- tice in the circles of taste, refine- ment, and intelligence. Dr. Web- sters method of pronunciation comes more nearly to such practice, there is reason to think, than that of most of our ortho~pists. He regarded, for instance, the long or open sound of u as, in most cases, a peculiar vowel sound, nearly resembling e and oo, but so much closer as to be hardly a diphthong; and considered it as taking the full diphthongal sound, coo or yoo, only when it be- gins a syllable, or when it is heard in certain terminations, as nrc, & c. We believe he has good reason for his position here, and that the general practice is in his favor. The ~vords lute and June, for example, are not, on the one hand, pronounced loot, Joon, nor on the other, leooi, Jcoon, giving u the full diphthongal utter- ance of e or y and oo. The true sound is a closer one between them. This was seen by Smart, the latest and one of the ablest, of English or- tho~pists; and he has accordingly 1848.] Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. 89 invented a peculiar character to in- dicate this closer sound, and to guard against the full diphihongal utter- ance, which he stigmatizes as c~ff~ect- ed. Dr.Webster,in settling the sound of the other vowels, and also the ac- centuation of words, was guided, in general, we believe, by good taste and sound judgment. In the revis- ion before us, the editor appears to have bestowed much labor on this part of the work, and has studiously adapted it to the wants of the com- munity. He says in the Preface, a careful comparison has been made with the latest authorities, and whenever changes have seemed ad- visable and could be made in con- sistency with the authors principles, they have been introduced. Many thousand words have been re-spell- ed, and no efforts have been spared to render the work, in all respects, a complete pronouncing dictionary. The system of notation has been somewhat extended, but is less mi- nute and complicated than that of several other ortho~pists, and is for that reason more clear and satisfac- tory. Dr. Webster, as the editor thinks, wisely avoided attempting too much, as to marking the pro- nunciation. For information, aside from what is embraced in the body of the work, respecting a large num- ber of words differently pronounced by different ortho~pists, the reader is referred to the SYNOPSIS contain- ed in the 8vo abridgment which was prepared by Mr. Worcester for the edition of Th~29, and which, as here inserted, has undergone an entire remodeling. An Appendix has been added to to the large work containing a list of Greek and Latin Proper names, with their pronunciation, prepared by Prof. Thacher of Yale College; and a list of Scripture Proper Names, prepared by Prof. Porter of Yale College. In the Appendix to the abridgment, Walkers Key to the Pronunciation of Classical and Scrip- ture Names has been enlarged, and improved. From the most approved English authorities more than three thousand words have been added to it, and numerous mistakes in it rec- tified, under the revision of Prof. Thacher. These lists are a most valuable guide to the l)ronunciation of names of frequent occurrence, both in classical and general read- ing. The value of the two volumes is further greatly enhanced by the ad- dition to each of them, of a VocAB- IILARY GIVING THE PRONUNcIATION OF MODERN GEOGRAPHICAL NAMES. It is hardly necessary to say how much a guide of this kind is needed, on the part of a large class in the community. The want has been pressingly felt, especially since the more general attention paid to geo- graphical studies in our schools and academies; and as it could not be readily supplied unless brought with- in the compressed limits of a general dictionary, ignorance and embar- rassment have been the consequence among both teachers and pupils, in this department. Great pains ap- pear to have been taken to give to those vocabularies the desired full- ness and accuracy, an interesting account of which and of the princi- ples on which they have been con- structed, is presented in the Prefa- tory Remarks. In its appropriate place, we have spoken of the intellectual and liter- ary qualifications of Dr. Webster for compiling a dictionary of our lan- guage; but it may gratify our read- ers, and is moreover especially con- sonant with one main design of this journal, to exhibit a brief view of his religious feelings, and the closing scene of his earthly labors. This we shall do by giving a single ex- tract from a Memoir of the author prepared by Prof. Goodrich, and prefixed to the quarto volume. Our readers will feel the touching inter- est of the detail ; as a perusal also of the entire Memoir, from the clear, condensed account which it gives of Websters Dictionary revised by Prof. Goodrich. the principal productions of Dr. Websters pen, its lively sketch of the most striking traits of his char- acter, the chastened spirit which pervades it, and the graceful style in which it is written, most he highly gratifying to every admirer of our distinguished lexicographer. The extract immediately follows a de- scription of the interesting events, connected with Dr. Websters pub- lic profession of religion, at the age of fifty years. In his religions feetings, Dr. Webster was remarkabty equable and cheerfut. He had a very strong sense of tie providence of God, as exter.(lirtg to tte niinut& t. toricerns of life. In this he found a source of continuat support and consolation, under the severe tahors and numerous trials which he tad to endure To the sartte (livitie hand he habitually referred all his enjoyments; and it was known to his famit~ that he rarely, if ever, 1(10k the sltght- est refreshment, of any kind, even between meats, witli(tut. a motuentary pause, and a silent trihitte (if thatiks to God as the giver. He made the Scriptures hts daily study. After the completion of his Dictionary, espe- cially, they were always tying ott his table, and he probably read them more than all oth- er books. He felt, from that time, that tlte labors of his life were endeit, arid tttat little else remained but. to prepare fur death. With a grateful setise of past. mercies, a cheering consciousness of present stipport, and an atii- mating hope of fttture blessedness, he waited with patietice until his appointed change should come. [luring the spring of 1843, Dr. Webster revised the Appendix of his Dictionary, and added some hundreds (if words. He com- pleted the printing of it ahotit the middle of May. It was the closing act of his life. His hand rested, in its last labors, on the volume which he had commenced thirty-six years be- fore. Within t few days, in callitig on a ntrmber of fnietids in different parts of the towti, he walked, during one afternoon, be- tween two atid three miles. The day was chilly, and immeiliately after his retttrn, he was seized with faintness arid a severe op- pression on his rings. An attack of peripuen- motty followed, which, though not alarrotug at first, ttok a sudnlen tttrn after four or five days, with fearful indications of a fatal result. It soon became necessary to inform lttm that he was in imminent daiiger. He received the commsttncatii)n with surprise, but with etitire composrire. His health had been so goitd, and every bodily functiont so perfect in its exercise, that he urtdtbtedly expected to live some years lottger. Btrt though suddenly called, he was c(tmptetely ready. He gave some characteristic directions as to the dispo- sal of his body after death. He spoke of his long life as one of uniform enjoyment, be- cause filled tip at every stage with active Ia- hors fir some valuable end. He expressed his entire resignation to the will of God, and his unshaken trust in the atoning blood of the ]iledeertter. It was an interesting coincidence, that his former pastor, the Rev. Mr. Stuart, who received him to the clitrrch thirty five years before, had just arrived at New Haven on a visit to his friends. He called imniedi- ately; arid the interview brought into affect- inig comparisi)tl the beginning rind the end of that long period of ronsecration to the service of Christ. The same hopes which had cheer- ed the vigor of matihtood, were now shedding a softened light over the decay and sufferings of age. I know in whom I have believed, such was the solemn and affecting testi- motty which he gave to his friend, while the hand of death was upon him, I know in whitno 1 have believed, and that He is able to keep that which 1 have committed to him against that day. Thus, without otie doubt, one fear, he resigned his soul itito the hiatids of his Maker, and died on the 28th day of May, 1813, in the eighty-fifth year of his age. Memoir, p. 22. We have the most sanguine ex- pectations that the editors efforts, in this arduous undertaking, will not be without correspondent results, in reference to the objects he has in view. That the work will be deci- dedly propitious to the interests of literature and sound learning, and especially to a better understanding of the English tongue, in its present improved stateits powet, compass, variety, and beautyseems to us a matter of demonstration. A revis- ion of Websters dictionary, so thor- ough, minute, and extended, and prosecuted on a plan calculated to secure the highest accuracy, through the labors of gentlemen, each dis- tinguished in his own sphere of in- qutry, is a sufficient guarantee of its excellence. We can not but view it as a sort of representative of the English mind in its present advanced state as a transcript in miniature of the intellectual progress of the ageas a sytiopsis of arts, science, philosophy, truth in nature and truth in morals; in fine of all knowledge within the range of htiman investi- gation, so far us these may he ex- hibited through the great medium of thought. The satisfaction derived from a clear, full, and consistent definition is worth any effort which it may cost, and to all who search for truth such definition is indispen- sable. We believe that there is not, within the compass of English 40 [Jan. 1 848.3 lklissionary Operations in Volynesia. 41 literature, a work which, in this re- spect, will meet the expectations of all who consult a dictionary, so en- tircly as the one which has drawn forth these comments. In this fea- ture of the work, as we have seen, it will hear the test of the severest scrutiny. In respect to the other uses of a dictionary, as a guide to etymology, orthography, pronuncia- tion, & c. we believe it may be relied on with equal confidence. As, how- ever, the public is the final arbiter in this case, we will not assume to forestall its decision, though we doubt not what it xviii be, in regard to the entire charactcr of this great xvork. MISSIONARY OPERATIONS IN POLYNESIA.* It may be remarked here that travelers who visit missionary establishments some- times contributc to existing errors. If they write in favor of theni, they wish to do it to some purposethey wish, of course, to be popular, in an age which asks for new and excitin~ matter from the press. Hence we have seen hooks professing to give the state of things at the Society, Sandwich, and even Marquesas islands, written in a style of extravagance, adapted rather to gratify than to inform the reader. There are other travelers who fall into the other extreme. It is a point with them to show that the missionary enterprise does no good ; that it impoverishes and depopulates the Islands, and that the natives who survive its pestilential influence are made tuore idle, filthy and vicious. The reader needs not to he informed that it is an old usage among men to comfort ones conscience hy an effort to lay its guilt on the hack of an- other. Neither does the public, we l)resunie, need to he informed that if any one goes d own into Egypt after the corn of scandalthe sins of missionarieshe will find the stewards of the granaries on hoard his craft before he can anchor, and the sack filled, and the money also returned in the sacks mouthat so cheap a rate do they supply the wants of their brethren. Hawaiian Spectator, Vol. i, p. 99. EVER since the day when Vasco Nugnez de Balboa, in 1513, ascend- ed the mountain height from which he beheld the wide waste of waters till then unknown to Europeans, and the year 1520, when Magaihanes discovered the straits which bear his name, the Pacific has been a broad field for the enterprise and the sym- pathies of the civilized world. With its waters laying the pole itself, and anon sweeping along the untrodden shores or the densely peopled strands of two continents, now crystallizing into icy fields or melting beneath a tropical sunand nestling in its bo- som ten thousand islands of every size and form, hearing a numerous population of many climes, it has gradually become more and more known to the people of the old worlds, and they behold in the revelation of these new members of the human family, another volume of that un- written Providence xvhich will yet bring all men into a common broth- erhood of interest and of destiny. The progress of discovery was slow for many ages. Occasionally a navigator commissioned by the courts of Madrid or of Lisbon, ven- tured across the desert of waters, making known to the world a dim and uncertain narrative of adventure some xvherc within a score of de- grees near the scenes so vaguely de- scribed. Tasman, the Dutch naviga- tor, discovered the Tonga or Friend- ly Islands in 1643, Alvaro Mendano discovered the Marquesas in 1595, Pedro Fernandez de Quiros visited an island supposed to be Tahiti, on the 10th February, 1606. Butcom- paratively few of the other islands were known until toward the close of the last century, when Wallis, on the 19th June, 1767, anchored at Tahiti, and gave an impetus to the * Omen; by Herman Melville. Lon- don John Murray. New York: Har- per & Brothers. VOL. VI. 6

1 848.3 lklissionary Operations in Volynesia. 41 literature, a work which, in this re- spect, will meet the expectations of all who consult a dictionary, so en- tircly as the one which has drawn forth these comments. In this fea- ture of the work, as we have seen, it will hear the test of the severest scrutiny. In respect to the other uses of a dictionary, as a guide to etymology, orthography, pronuncia- tion, & c. we believe it may be relied on with equal confidence. As, how- ever, the public is the final arbiter in this case, we will not assume to forestall its decision, though we doubt not what it xviii be, in regard to the entire charactcr of this great xvork. MISSIONARY OPERATIONS IN POLYNESIA.* It may be remarked here that travelers who visit missionary establishments some- times contributc to existing errors. If they write in favor of theni, they wish to do it to some purposethey wish, of course, to be popular, in an age which asks for new and excitin~ matter from the press. Hence we have seen hooks professing to give the state of things at the Society, Sandwich, and even Marquesas islands, written in a style of extravagance, adapted rather to gratify than to inform the reader. There are other travelers who fall into the other extreme. It is a point with them to show that the missionary enterprise does no good ; that it impoverishes and depopulates the Islands, and that the natives who survive its pestilential influence are made tuore idle, filthy and vicious. The reader needs not to he informed that it is an old usage among men to comfort ones conscience hy an effort to lay its guilt on the hack of an- other. Neither does the public, we l)resunie, need to he informed that if any one goes d own into Egypt after the corn of scandalthe sins of missionarieshe will find the stewards of the granaries on hoard his craft before he can anchor, and the sack filled, and the money also returned in the sacks mouthat so cheap a rate do they supply the wants of their brethren. Hawaiian Spectator, Vol. i, p. 99. EVER since the day when Vasco Nugnez de Balboa, in 1513, ascend- ed the mountain height from which he beheld the wide waste of waters till then unknown to Europeans, and the year 1520, when Magaihanes discovered the straits which bear his name, the Pacific has been a broad field for the enterprise and the sym- pathies of the civilized world. With its waters laying the pole itself, and anon sweeping along the untrodden shores or the densely peopled strands of two continents, now crystallizing into icy fields or melting beneath a tropical sunand nestling in its bo- som ten thousand islands of every size and form, hearing a numerous population of many climes, it has gradually become more and more known to the people of the old worlds, and they behold in the revelation of these new members of the human family, another volume of that un- written Providence xvhich will yet bring all men into a common broth- erhood of interest and of destiny. The progress of discovery was slow for many ages. Occasionally a navigator commissioned by the courts of Madrid or of Lisbon, ven- tured across the desert of waters, making known to the world a dim and uncertain narrative of adventure some xvherc within a score of de- grees near the scenes so vaguely de- scribed. Tasman, the Dutch naviga- tor, discovered the Tonga or Friend- ly Islands in 1643, Alvaro Mendano discovered the Marquesas in 1595, Pedro Fernandez de Quiros visited an island supposed to be Tahiti, on the 10th February, 1606. Butcom- paratively few of the other islands were known until toward the close of the last century, when Wallis, on the 19th June, 1767, anchored at Tahiti, and gave an impetus to the * Omen; by Herman Melville. Lon- don John Murray. New York: Har- per & Brothers. VOL. VI. 6 42 ~Iissionary Operations in Polynesia. [Jan~ maritime discovery so speedily and brilliantly followed up by La Pe- rouse, De Bougainville, Cook, Bligh, Vancouver, and others. The nar- ratives of these explorers were filled with astonishing and intensely inter- esting details concerning the islands, their climate, productions, natural history, and particularly their inhab- itants. They painted the islands in such glowing colors as led the peo- ple of the civilized world to believe, that at last, in these far off isles, man had been found surroundcd with all the necessary natural and phys- ical enjoyments and sources of hap- piness. The refined ideas of deli- cacy and propriety entertained by allthe mildness of disposition, the openness of character, the generos- ity and hospitality they manifested to foreigners, their affectionate re- gard for each other, their filial vir- tLies, and a thousand other excellen- ces, combined with the natural scene- ry, to make these isles the very gar- dens of terrestrial happiness. These attractive descriptions of Polynesian character and life, how- ever, are in a great measure quali- fied by the existence of manners and customs which cast a shade up- on the fairer poi-t ions of the picture. Invest, if you will, the character of the child of nature with all that may be found lovely and joyous in the uncultivated soulweave round him garlands of flowers culled from the fondest imaginings and most genial emotions of the refined beholder enrobe him voluptuously in the fair- est gossamer ever wrought into po- etryyet, after all, the whole truth will not be told. Lie may be nurs- ed in a paradise of physical enjoy- ment, he may possess the largest liberty, he may sport with the waves, grapple with the monsters of the deep, and become a fit subject for a legend or a mythbut the super- ficial admiration of his visitor will never exalt his condition so as to hide the real deformity of his soul. Some travelers have expended their powers of description in represent- ing the happiness of the Polynesians when first discovered by Europe- ans, and in some of the least fre- quented isles at the present day; but these people were in fact the slaves of fear, the victims of debas- ing superstitions,and of demoralizing rites and customs which originated in their native Po.* Liberty is essential to the devel- opment of roans moral being, but there can be no liberty where the soul is debased with the bondage of fearwhere the foundation of the moral life rests upon terror iospired by a belief in the power and gov- ernment of Akuas,t to whom are ascribed the characters of the Poly- nesian divinities. The barbarian possesses a certain kind of personal independencebut for this inde- pendence he surrenders liberty of thought and freedom of the soul, which are laid down at the feet of some monstrous divinity, and sacri- ficed on the altar of some dark and overwhelming superstition. The in- fluence of religious belief upon na- tional and individual life is too pow- erful not to be obeyedand hence it has come to be established as a true principle of philosophy, that a nation will be as its religious belief. History teaches it by example. The refined pagans of Rome, and Greece, and Egypt, entered their temples and offered sacrifices to gods of war, and blood, and lust, and wrong and Roman character is written, if no where else, in the profane and abominable paintings and statuary of a Herculaneum and a Pompeii. The Polynesian nations, removed to the farther extreme, only equal in the vileness of their legends, the im- purity of their lives, and the inhu- manity of their offerings on the mis- shapen altar of a Tahitian heiau, the splendor of the sacrifices in the cost- ly and magnificent temples of Jupi- ter and Mitierva. * Night t Gods. 1848] Missionary Operations in Polynesia. 43 There is no picture of human life so well calculated to deceive, as that which clothes in beauty the life of the child of nature. Some of the more recent travelers have been singular enough even at this day to renew the praises of uncivilized life and with a superficiality of judg- ment as marked as their limited ac- quaintance with facts, have sought to present it as more desirable than the condition of a civilized being. But when viewed in the light of truth, the simplicity, and innocence, and purity, and gentleness of these artless people, gives way to the stern reality, that human nature unsancti- fled by the almighty power of renew- ing grace, is the same whether in the palmy groves of the Orient, or fanned by the spring breezes of de- licious c limes,rocked into shape and expression on the bosom of the Pacific, or cherished in the sumptu- ous courts of Paris or Pekin, polish- ed in the palace of the Cresars, or rough-born on the shores of the Or- ange river or Gaboon. The char- acteristics of paganism are alike in all ages and in every placemur- ders, infanticide, lust, revenge, war, oppression, and wrongsummed up in the close of the first chapter of Paul to the Romans. Having chan- ged the truth of God into a lie, they were filled with all unright- eousness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness, full of envy, murder, debate, deceh, ma- lignity, whisperers, backbiters, ha- ters of God, despiteful, proud, boast- ers, inventors of evil things, diso- bedient to parents; without under- standing, covenant breakers, without natural affection, implacable, un- merciful ; who knowing the judg- ment of God, (that they which com- mit such things are worthy of death,) not only do the same, but have pleas- ure in them that do them? This is a faithful picture of the primi- tive condition of the people whose history and destiny we are consid- ering. While we are deli~zhted with the lovely picture of the material world around them, and the sources of physical enjoyment, an overwhelm- ing interest attaches to the questions concerning their moral and intellec- tual character. The early mission- aries who reached Tahiti in 1797, were very favorably impressed with the peoplebut a residence of a short time gave them a much better acquaintance with the dark reality, than all the gentle and winning de- scriptions of their predecessors. Soon after the publication of the narratives of Cook and others, the attention of British Christians was turned to the subject of enlighten- ing the heathen, and after the pre- liminaries necessary to such a step, the London Missionary Society was organized, and sent to Tahiti, the Friendly Islands, and the Marque- sas, a band of missionaries. They reached Matavai Bay, March 6th, 1797, and thus was commenced the enterprise which has been produc- tive of such marked results in that portion of the globe. The nature of the work, the character of the laborers, and the effects of their zeal and devotion, have been and ought to be the subject of frequent dis- cussion. In making an estimate of the ben- efits of civilization and Christianity in the South Seas, we are riot to look at Polynesian society as it is. We are not to take the ignorant, vicious, debased, and indolent tribeswhose fathers but yesterday were engaged in bloody contests, offering human sacrifices, murdering their children, and submitting in horrible bondage to the fear of senseless and mon- strous divinities, and behold in the first loosenings of these foundations of heathen life, a full exhibition of the power of the Christian religion. To expect general refinement in one age, to look for intelligence and pu- rity of sentiment and life in the course of a single generation, would be to expect the subversion of the 41 ivlissionary Operations in Polynes a. [Jatt laws of mans being, the perform - ance of a miracle, or the creation of a new moral constitution. The latest writer on Polynesia, is the author of the work named at the head of this article. This is the se- cond narrative from his pen, Omoo havina been preceded by Typee: a Residence in the Marquesas. Of the nuthor or his works we de- sign not now to inform our readers, further than they have reference to the practical operations of the mis- sionary enterprise in Polynesia. We do not make an extended review of these publications because they are entitled to a serious confutation but regarding them as expressive of the feelings and opinions of a large class of navigators, merchants, and others, and as affording a re- newed occasion for presenting facts not generally known, we have at- tempted an examination of their truth concerning the past and pres- ent efforts to civilize and christian- ize the Polynesians. Without farther introduction, we remark generally that the testimony of Mr. Melville, were his statements consistent with fact, is sufficient to condemn the missionary work in the South Seas. The ignorance, ineffi- ciency, and incompetency of the la- borers their interference in political affairs,their bigotry, intolerance and inhospitality, all unite to furnish our author with matter for frequent invective, or indignant appeal. XVe shall present the first thing worthy of notice in which the mis- sionaries are introduced, and ac- company Mr. Melville on his adven- tures as far as our space, or the pa- tience of our readers will permit. On page 87, in speaking of the people of the Coral or Paumotu Isl- ands, we are told that Nominally, many of these people are now Christians; and, through the political influence of their instructors, so Doi~aT, a short time since, came under the allegi- ance of Pomare, the queen of Tahiti, with which island they always carried on considerable intercourse. When men go abroad into the world they should be prepared to observe, and when they return they should at least make themselves ac- quainted with their subject before they attempt to inform their coun- trymnen. Rope-yarn may do very well in the forecastle, or during the hours of the night-watch, but when it is spun out in the pages of a book with reiterated protestations of cor- rectness, and the authors peculiar opportunities for acquiring correct information, it becomes quite an- other affair; and then the follies and inaccuracies of a mere romancer, otherwise unworthy of notice, re- quire the juxtaposition of truth~ rfhere are two points in this brief passage worthy of note. L That the missionaries brought the island under the Tahitian rule, and 2~ The absence of any statement show- ing the beneficial effects of Christi- anity among them. The Paumotu, Coral, or Pearl Islands, called also the Dangerous Archipelago, stretches over several degrees of latitude and longitude, crosses the meridian of Tahiti, with- in from five to ten degrees of longi- tude of the latter island. They have for a long time maintained commer- cial intercourse with the Society Islands, and in the reign of Pomare I, Tomatiti of the Paumotu group, attempted to overrun Tahiti)tm Po- mare sent him a written letter, ~vhich led to a peace. At a period some- what later, after Pomare II. had em- braced the Christian reli0ion, and reports of the change had reached the Coral Islands, some of the na- tives passed over to Tahiti to witness the wonderful revolution. When Mr~ Ellis built his printing office at Afa- reaitu, Eimeo,t 1817, the body-guard of Pomare was composed of Pau- motuans, in preference to his own subjects. The instructors of the simple islanders have used as little * Wilkes, i, 343. I Ellis, Polynesian Researches, ii, 165; iii, 192. 1848.] ]lIissionary Operations in Polynesia. 45 political influence in this case as in many others in which they have been compelled to play a conspicu- ous part. Though Mr. Melville has much to say in many places respecting the character and labors of the mission- aries, he omits here to notice the changes in the social condition of the Paumotuans, effected by the in- troduction of Christianity. Capt. Wilkes, ~vho will doubtless be re- garded as an impartial witness, will give us a few brief facts in illustra- tion. Nothing could he more striking than the difference that prevailed between these natives and those of the Disappointment Islands, which we had just left. The half-civiliza- tion of the natives of iRaraka, was very marked, and it appeared as though we had issued out of dark- ness into light. They showed a modest disposition and gave us a hearty welcome. Tf7e were not long at a loss to what to ascribe it; the missionary had been at work here, and his exertions had been based upon ajirm foundation; the savage had been changed to a reasonable creature. * * * If the missionaries had effected nothing else, [the secu- rity of seamen,] they would deserve the thanks of all those who roam over this wide ocean, and incur its many unknown and hidden dan- gers.* At Aurora Island, Capt. Wilkes again saw printed copies of the Scriptures, aiid many of the people could read and write well. No spears, clubs, or warlike in- struments were to be seen, and when I asked for them as matters of curi- osity, they said they had no arms except two muskets, which were pointed out to me, hanging up un- der the eaves of the house. The native missionary, a man about fifty years of age, told me that in times past they had all war, but now all * Wilkes, i, 326. was peace. I was desirous of know- ing to what he imputed the change, and he readily answered, Mittion- an, mai-tai, mai-tai, (missionary, good, good.)t At Anaa or Chain Island, the like happy change was visible. The in- habitants, formerly cannibals, have become Christians, and within twen- ty-five years. Since the residence of the mis- sionaries they have irribibed better tastes; and the Christian influence has made them more peaceful. The invasion of Tahiti by the French, and the oman Priests, is made the subject of running com- ment through several chapters. The intrusion of iRornanists into the Hawaiian, Georgian, and Socie- ty Islands, together with the intol- erance, proscription, bigotry, and inhospitable treatment, main- tamed towards them by the Protes- tant missionaries, are occasions of frequent indignation and holy repu- diation with the Belcherj school, of which we may find many disciples. The prominent principle which led to the rejection of the Roman- ists is obvious to a thinking mind. The half-refined idolaters see in the image of the Virgin, the crucifix, the paintings, the wafer, and the beads, only the elements of a bap- tized idolatry. Much as we may deplore their intellectual incapacity to discriminate here, it does not modify or change the fact. That they are not alone to be condemned for this obliquity, is evident from the history of the world. A Hindoo Brahmin in giving his reasons for not embracing Roman- ism, makes the following compari- sons: Wilkes, i, 340. Captain Betcher, of H. B. M. S. Sul- phur, who assaulted Rev. H. Bingham by shaking his fist in his face, while the English Consul did the same to Kiran, a female, second in rank to the king. The sutphureous captain threatened to hang Mr. Bingham at the yard arm. But of this in its own time. 46 Missionary Operations in Polynesia. [Jan. Has the Feringhi cheap pardons? So have we. Can the t{oruanist hy the mass rescue his ancestors from purgatory? We, hy ceremonies at Gaya, can do the same for ours. Can the priest change the hread und wine into flesh and hioud? Our muntras can impart divine attrihutes to images. Who are the Roroish monks hut the counterparts of our Sun yasees? Do the Catholics count their heads? So do ~ve our malas. Do they pray to mother Mary? So do we to Ganga-mai. Do their priests eschew marriages? So do our Gosalies. Have they nuns? So have we our nach-girls, dedicated to the service of the teruple. Do they hoast their anti- quity? Compare eighteen hundred years, the period they claim as the age of their church, with four jugs of Hindooism. Such is the estimate placed upon the religious system of Rome by an enlightened Pagan. Does it not find a perfect parallel in the Catholic missionaries among the Indians of Green Bay, Michigan. As it is ex- tracted from the Seventh Report of the Leopold Foundation,* it comes from an undoubted source. The masterly painting of the cross, hy Mr. J. R. Von Henepel, of Vienna, makes the altar not a little imposing. Upon two Indians who entered our church, the sight of this crucifix mode so deep en irn- pressiole, thet they cried out, this is the true God whom we would serre, and there- upon received instruction and were hap- tized. * * * Of heads, ima ~es, & c., we can not get enough a beautiful rosary is no trifle for the Indians; they wear them constantly on the neck, and ask for them as unceremoniously as children. The philosophy of the IRomish church teaches that the paintings, the crucifix, & c., are only memori- als or signs, to direct the spirit of the faithful to the worship of God through some object palpable to the outward sense. The same princi- ples were held by the educated apol- ogists of Egypt who excused the idolatry of their countrymen. The philosophers, say they, honored the image of God wherever they met with it. even in inanimate heings, and conse- quently much more in those which par- took of life. They, therefore, are to ho commended, who worship not the crea- tures, hut the Supreme Deity through * Translated for the N. Y. Observer. them; which ought to he esteemed as so many mirrors offered us by nature, re- flecting the divine image. The divine nature can not dwell in the artful disposi- tion of colors, nor in matter which is sub- ject to decay, and destitute hoth of sense arid motion. As the sun, moon, air, heav- en, earth, and sea are common to all men, hut have different names in different na- tions; so there is hut one mind, and one providence which governs the universe, thou~h called hy different names, and worshiped in divers manners, and with different ceremonies, according to the laws and customs of every country. Ueiversat History, vol. i, p. 597. Idolatry, every where as well as in all its forms and modifications, has an esoteric and exoteric meaning this is adapted to the subtle inquiry of the casuist, and that is suited to the gross and unlettered condition of the popular mind. The masses, both ancient and modern, were and are idolaters. As the rfahitians and Hawaiians had long been the victims of an op- pressive and bloody religious system, they rejoiced when their chains were broken; being satisfied with the re- ligion of Christ as taught by the Protestant teachers; and delighting to worship him without the interven- tion of images, which appeared to them only more elegant as works of art than their own rudely hewn blocks of stone or wood, they could not consent to the rei~stablishing of the old idolatry under a new form. But superadded to this is another reasonlaws had been enacted pro- hibiting the importation and sale of ardent spirits. When, therefore, the new preceptors were found on the decks of men-of-war, alternating with casks of brandy, which were to he accepted at the hazard of learn- ing their first lesson in the classical irony of the French, the natives could not entertain any other con- viction than that such a religion was no better than their ancient system. The reader will pardon the deten- tion occasioned by the following ex- quisite passage in illustratioti of this topic, exhibiting the parallel drawn above as seen in the history of the 1848.] Missionary Operations in Polynesia. 47 Aztec race. It is from the pen of one of the most elegant writers of the present age. The Roman Catholic communion has, it must be admitted, some decided advan- tages over the Protestant, for the purposes of proselytism. The dazzling porup of its service, and its touching appeal to the sensibilities affect the imagination of the rurle child of nature much more power- fully than the cold abstractions of Pro- testantism, which, addressed to the rea- son, demand a degree of refinement and mental culture in the audience to corn- prebend them. The respect, moreover, shown by the Catholics for the material representations of Divinity, greatly facili- tates the same object. It is true, such representations are used by him only as incentives, not as the objects of woiship. But this distinction is lost on the savage, achofiatls such forms of adoration too anal- o~ou s to his oscn to impose any treat sio- leece on his feelin~s. It is only required of him to transfer his homage froni the image of Quetzalcoatl, the benevolent deity who walked among men, to that of the Vir~in or the Redeemer; from the cross, which he has worshiped as the em- blem of the ~od of rain, to the same cross, the symbol of salvationPrescott, Con- quest of Mexico, vol. i, p. 291: Such, then, being the universal sentirrient of idolatrous nations, which we might still farther illustrate by the history of numerous tribes, is it a matter of surprise that the Tahi- tians and Hawaiians, after having matntajued the Protestant religion for some years, should look upon the adoption of Romanism as a step backwards towards the ancient idolatry ? Is it strange that the chiefs should reject the Romish mis- sionaries as being dangerous to their peace, when we remember that for similar political considerations, the ambassadors of the Leos, Piuses, and Innocents, of the papal chair were banished from Britain, Sweden, and Germany after the Reformation, and aie still rejected by the Protes. tant princes of Europe? ~ATe leave the obvious inferences from these facts to the intelligence of the reader.* This view of the nature of Roman worship is well known to almost every one who visits Polynesia, where the intrusionists have sought or obtained an entrance. In the Hawaiian group, there was rio op- position manifested by the chiefs, missionaries, or people, until the priests were very strongly suspected, and with good reason, to have been concerned in an attempted rebellion under Lilika. This naturally exci- ted the jealousy of the chiefs and people against the new teachers and their religion, regarding them as equally dangerous to the mainten- ance of government, the administra- tion of wholesome laws, and the preservation of good order. With- out referring to the testimony of the missionaries, which might be con- demned as the evidence of interested pat-ties, we give a brief passage from Capt. Wilkess Narrative Middleton on the Conformity of Popery and Paganism. And in passing to the next topic niust place in connection with the above the following circumstances. The inhabitants of the isles of Peten to return from our digression listened attentively to the preaching of the Fran- ciscan Friars, and consented to the instant demolition of their idols, arid the erection of the cross upon their ruins. A singular circumstance showed the value of these hurried conversions. Corths, on his de- parture, left among this friendly people erie of his horses, who had been disabled by an injury iii the foot. The Indians felt a reverence for the animal, as in some way connected with lie mysterious power of the white men. When their visitors had genie, they offered flowers to the horse, and, as it is said, prepared for him many savory messes cit poultry, such a~ they would have administered to their own sick. Under this extraordinary diet itie ~ animal pined away arid died. The aifrighted Indians raised his effigy in stone, and, placing it in one of their tea- cal/is, did homage to it, as to a deity. In 1618, when two Franciscan Friars caine to preach the Gospel in these regions, then scarcely better known to the Span- iards than before the time of Corths, one of the most remarkable objects which they thund was this statue of a horse, re- ceiving the homage of the Indian wor- shilpers, as the god of thunder and light- ning.Prescott, Conquest of Me ico, vol. iii, P. 294. * The curious student of such themes, whether Romanist or Protestant, we refer to the analytical dissertation of Conyers 48 ]lliissionary Operations in Polynesia. [Jan. In spite of the prohibitory law, [an early statute forbidding the introduction of any but the Protestant religion,] it is a notorious and indisputable fact, that the first Catholic priests, who landed in 1827, were kindly treated by all classes of na- tives, and by the Protestant missionaries. The American mission even furnished them with the books they had printed to enable them to learn the Hawaiian lan- guage. When, however, mass was first ptiblicly celebrated, the converted natives in general took an aversion to that mode of worship, as it appeared to them a step hacksrard towards their ancient idolatry; and the very circumstance which, had they continued heathen, miaht have been an inducement to adopt, served now to alienate them from it. This estimate of the iRomish wor- ship, by the half-civilized, and half- enlightened people of the Hawaii Islands, is announced again in the Manifesto of Captain La Place, who plays such a conspicuous part in the history of the group. He days in fine, they [the principal chiefs] wilt coriipreheiid, that ti) persecute the Catholic religion, to tarnish it with the ama of idolatry, and to expel, under this absurd pretext, the French from this Ar- chipelago, was to offer an insult to France, and to its soveregn - J it hes, vol. iv, p. 501 ,Jlppendi , 1. It might be a matter of some in- terest to an enlightened statesman to inquire, to what extent French captains have the privilege of inva- ding the rights of Ameiicans abroad, of dishonoring the flag of the United States, and menacing the lives of those under its protection. Beside the flagrant outrages of La Place, in the transactions in which he figured, occurrences still more recent, in the Gaboon river, demand the serious attention of the American people. If the French government and its officers present themselves to the world as the agents in forcing rum and Romanism on the less refined nations of the earth, it may not he unimportant to the American people to know how far their rights are to he invaded in the persons of their fellow citizens who exile themselves in the noblest of all human enter- prises. Passing over many pages which are full of statements calculated to mislead, we reach chapter xlviii, entitled, Tahiti as it is. Let us look at it. Of the results which have flowed from the intercourse of foreigners with Polynesians, inchudina the attempts to civ- ilize and christianize them by missiona- ries, Tahiti, on many accounts, is obvi- ously the fairest practical example. In- deed, it may now be asserted, that the experiment of christianizing the Tahi- tians, and improving their sociat condi- tion by the introduction of forei n ens- a tunis, has been fully tried. The present generation have grown up under the aus- pices of their rehiaious instructors. And although it may be urged that tIme labors of the latter have at times been more or less otistructed by unprincipled foreign- ems, still, this in rio wise renders Tahiti any the less a fair illustration for, with obstacles like these, the missionaries tim Polynesia niust always, and every where struggle. It has sometimes been a question with us, whether time presence of for- eigners does not do almost as much injury to the Polynesians, as all the good accomlslisited by the mission- aries. How this influence of for- eigners has been exerted, may be seen in the fact that they have re- tarded improvement, procured the murder of missionaries, and sought to have the mission establishments broken up. From a cro~ d of facts, we cite only a few. The directors of the London Mis- sionary Society, sensible of the ne- cessity of a regular system of indus- try, to the maintenance of a rank among civilized and Christian na- tions, took measures to introduce the sugar manufacture on the islands, some eight or ten species of carte being indigenous. For this purpose they sent out machinery, and a gen- tleman who had long been acquaint- ed with the processes adopted in the West Indies. Look at the sequel. * Wilkes, Exploring Expedition, vol. iv, p. ii. See also Letter of Kamehameha hi, to P. A. Briusmade, U. S. Commer- ciat Agent, bid, vol. iv, p. 505. Jar- viss History of Sandwich Islands, App., p.394. 1848.] Missionary Operations in Polynesia. 49 Early in the year 1819, the captain of a vessel, the Indus, whom purposes of commerce led to Tahiti, informed the king that Mr.Gyless errand to Tahiti was mere- ly experimental, and that, should the at- tempt to manufacture sugar succeed, indi- viduals from distant countries, possessing influence and large resources, would es- tablish themselves in the islands, and with an armed force, hich he would in vain attempt to oppose, would either destroy the inhabitants, or reduce them to slave- ry. These alarming statements were strengthened by allusion to the present state of the West Indies, where Mr. Gyles had been engaged in the manufac- ture of sugar and the culture of coffee. * * * * This view of the enterprise led Pomare to decline rendering that assis- tance which was expected, and the want of which retarded the pro~ress of the work. The necessary labor required from the natives was paid for at a remarkably high price, and often difficult to obtain on any terms. The result was, that the mission- aries, under these circumstances, and the unfounded rumors thus brought against them, finding they could not succeed, abandoned the undertaking, and on the 14th of May, to satisfy the king, and quiet the people, advised 1\lr. Gyles to re- turn to New South Wales by the first convevance.t The same difliculties were en- countered in the introduction of cot- ton manufacture, alluded to by Mr. Melville, p. 258. The traders as- sured the people that it would be in- jurious to the interests of the isl- ands, would prevent shipping from visiting them, & c.; offering to give for raw cotton txvice as much ctoth as they could procure at the factory. Sometimes they endeavored to per- suade Mr. Armitage to abandon so hopeless a project as to train the people to habits of industry4 At the Sandwich Islands, the mis- sionaries who landed March 3d, 1820, were greeted with similar dif- ficulties. Unprincipled foreigners assured Liholiho that the mission- aries would eventually strive to ob- tain possession of the islandsthat though the foreigners first went to the West India Islands in a peace- able manner, they afterwards attack- ed and defeated the inhabitants, hunted them with blood-hounds, and remained masters of the islands. After some titne, however, these re- ports were so far overcome, that the missionaries were welcomed, and assigned to different stations. Without stopping to quote Wilkess Narrative and the records of the Missionary Society, or the Mission- ary Herald, we take another exam- ple occurring at the Tonga Islands. The missionaries who settled at Tongatahoo, fr~ the Duff, April 12, 1797, were exposed to great danger from the savage conduct and continual warfare of the people. A convict from Botany Bay, named Morgan, came to settle on the isl- and; he made himself ohnoxious to the body by his stealing and improp- er conduct, when they complained to the chiefs. iVlorgari retorted that the missionaries were the cause of the pestilence then raging, that they shut themselves up to pray and sing, which xvas their way of sorcei~y, that their books were books of witch- craft, & c. He told the chiefs, You are dying every day, and will soon be cut off, and the King of England will take possession of your islands. The chiefs rushed upon the mis- sionaries and killed a numher, while the others escaped to Port Jackson.II The desolating effects of the li- centious intercourse of the foreign- ers and natives threatening to ex- terminate the race, a law was pass- ed by the Hawaiinn government for its suppression. rfhe missionaries were charged with the cIeation of this law, which produced the most violent opposition among the sea- men frequenting the various ports of Ellis, ii, 212. History of Missions, 2 vols. 4to, Sandwich Islands. Dib- ble, Hist. Sandwich Islands, p. 72. Jar- vis s list. Sandwich Islands, 221. Ellis, iv, 3t. Stewart, Private Journal, p. 157. Mariners Tonga IsI nds, p. 74; Mis- sionary Voyage, Svo, 1805, 342, 4. * Ellis, ii, 212, 213. tlbid,ii,213. Ibid, ii, 224. VOL. VI. 7 50 Missionary Operations in Poly esia. [Jan. that group. On the 5th October, 1826, soon after its passage, two of the crew of the ship Daniel, Captain Buckle, of London, called at the house of the missionaries, and charg- ed them with being the authors of the law, and threatening them with a combined attack. The lawless behavior of the crexv of this vessel, their desperation, the violence of their threats, and the visits they made to the house, compelled the teachers to barricade their house, from which they were afraid to stir for some time. Captain Buckle of- fered his men muskets and ammu- nition for the attack on the mission- ary dwellings.* Still more infamous than this was the conduct of Lieut. John Percival, and the crew of the U. S. schooner Dolphin, Honolulu, 1826. For the details of their proceedings refer- ence may be had to several sourcest Such has been the influence of foreigners, and could the long cata- logue of fearful crime be known, the people of Britain and America might well weep over their shame. The external forms of heathen society, and the institutions which characterize its history, together with the more hideous crimes which darken its page, are overthrown with comparative ease, by the force of Christian truth, and the example of civilization witnessed in its teachers, but having achieved this, the mis-. sionary has a far more critical and prolonged task to perform. He must take the most difficult materi- als and shape them into order, and if possible, mould them into a di- vine image. He must take the hu- man soul and emancipate it from the bondage of fearhe must take the most utterly depraved heart and cleanse it in the Siloam pools of life he must take the mind, dark as the Po, to which it looks forward without a ray, and shed upon it a beam of holy lighthe must take the savage nature of the lion and the hyena, and transform it to the similitude of the lamb and the dove he must accomplish that which all the proud philosophy of man, the lofty creations of genius, and the humanizing influences of civiliza- tion can not effectpresent it, a love- ly adumbration of the Deity, at the foot of the Redeemer. The mag- nitude of this work can he really appreciated only by those who un- dertake its accomplishment. The state of morals in the South Sea Islands, during the reign of pa- ganism, may he learned from the following graphic account of what occurred on the death of Moomooe, the king of the Tonga Islands. As the funeral was to take ptace to- day, [May 2,1797,] brother Bowell went with Ambler to Buoghyc to see the cer- emony, and found about four thousand persons sitting round the ptace where the fiatooka stands. A few minutes after our arrival, we heard a great shouting and blowing of conch shells at a small dis- tance; soon after about an hundred men appeared, armed with clubs and spears, and rushing into the area, began to cut and mangle themselves in a most dreadful manner: many struck their heads violently with their clubs ; and ttie blows, which might be heard thirty or forty yards off, they repeated till the blood ran down in streams. Others who had spears, thrust them through their thighs, arrsis, aad cheeks, all the while calling on the deceased in a most affecting manner. A aative of Feejee, who had been a servant of the deceased, appeared quite frantic; he entered the area with fire in his h;ind, and having previously oiled his hair, set it on fire, and ran about with it 11 on flame. When they had satisfied them- selves with this manner of torment, they sat down, beat their faces with their fists, and then retired. A second party went throu ~ h the same cruelties; and after them a third entered, shouting and blowing the shells: four of the foremost held stones which they used to knock out their teeth those who blew the shells cut their heads with them in a shocking manner. A man that had a spear, run it through his arm just above the elbow, and with it sticking fast run about the area for some time. Another, who seemed to be a principat chief, acted as if quite bereft of his sen- ses; he ran to every corner of the area, Journal of Rev. Mr. Richards. See Hist. of Missions, vol. ii, p. 325. Tracys Hist. of Missions, p. 184; Jarviss Hawaiian Islands, P. 263. 1848.] Missionary Operations in Polynesia. 51 and at each station beat his head with a club till the blood flowed down his shoul- ders. After this, brother Bowell, shock- ed, and unable to bear the scene any long- er, returned home. Futtafaihe also came to our dwelling, and staid about two hours. At two oclock in the afternoon four of us went to the fiatooka, where the natives, of both sexes, were still at the dreadful work of cutting and mangling them- selves.5 Mariner, who resided several years at Tongatabu, was present at the death of Finou Toogahau, the suc- cessor of Moomooe, and witnessed the funeral ceremonies. Besides scenes similar to those ahove de- scribed, he informs us that some cut their heads with such strong and fre- quent blows, that they caused them- selves to reel, producing after~vards a temporary insanity. It is difficult to say to what length this extrava- gance would have been carried, if the prince had not ordered Mr. Mar- iner to go and take the club away from them. It is customary on such occasions, when a man takes a club from another, to use it on him- self; but being a foreigner, Mr. Mar- iner was not expected to do this. The fishermen of the late prince came up, each hearing a paddle with which he beat his head. They were singular in another respect: that is, they had three arrows stuck through their cheeks, in a slanting direction, so that while their points came quite through the cheek and met in the mouth, the other ends went over their shoulders, and were kept in that situation by another ar- row, the points of which were tied to the end of either arrow, passing over the shoulder. With this hor- rible equipment, they passed around the grave, heating their faces and heads, or pinching up the skin of the breast, and running a spear quite through it.t In view of such evidences of the moral condition of the Polynesians, * Missionary Voyage, London, 4to, 1799, p. 237. t Mariner, Tonga Islands, vol. i, p. 328. it is not to he expected that their conception of the Christian religion could he either very clear, or, dim and gross at best, could be very soon directed towards the spiritual doctrines of the Gospel. With what courage must those men and women have been nerved, and with what faith strengthened, who could look on such a pandemonium of savage emotion, and almost infernal pas- sion, and resolve to lead these same individuals, gentle and subdued, to the foot of the cross. The contagious nature, if we may use the term, of some of the awa- kenings among the Polynesians, might reasonably be anticipated when reasoning upon such scenes as those above rehearsed. That all should have an earnest appreciation and genuine experience of divine love, is asking too much under the cir- cumstances, but that the large ma- jority have some inward light, may be believed. Partial, indeed, it may be, hut day is ushered in by the faintest change in the impending gloom, which gradually disappears hefore the unclouded sun. Such a scene as that described by Mr. Melville, with the difference that in neither case was it occasion- ed by a desire to obtain favor with the missionaries, was witnessed in 1840, at Pagopago, Tutuila, Samoa or Navigators Islands. The awa- kening there is described at consid- et-able length in the proper jour- nals. The following is the testimo- ny of the witnesses. Mr. Murray, the missionary, had preached but a few minutes, When the house seemed to shake, and the Spirit to dart his arrows of con- viction with such a powerful band, that the whole place was on the move. Wo- men were carried out by dozens, convul- sed and struggling, so as to drive five or six men about like irees in the wind, who were exertiog all their strength to bold and convey them away. I bad heard of beatin breasts and tearing hair be- fore, but 1 have now seen and shall not soon forget it. The weaker sex was not alone affected; many men were carried 52 Missionary Operations in Polynesia. [Jait out lifeless as stones, and many could scarcely be removed because of their aw- fully convulsive strugglings. Similar scenes of extravagance have been often witnessed among rude and uncultivated people, and even in our own country. Nor does such excitement prove the absence of some intelligent conviction of sin, and the renewing operations of the Holy Spirit. The fact recorded of this revival, that it was followed by the happiest relbrmations among thieves and polygamists, is a suffi- cient answer to the cavils of such writers as Melville. The reader will see, in the moral and intellectual character of the Po- lynesians, the gigantic labors which must be undertaken and the severe trials which must be endured, on the part of the Christian missionary. Is it not enough that he should be exposed to the ferocity of savages, and be buried in such a mass of cor- rupt and loathsorrie materials, with- out being vilified in his native land by the misrepresentations and de- traction of his own countrymen? We all know the power of asso- ciation, and have doubtless felt its influence in our own experience. How strong must this power be in retarding the development of spir- itual religion among a people like the Polynesians, where the scenes of their former superstitions and crimes are still marked by the ruins of a bloody altar or a crumbling heian, arid where many of the pre- sent inhabitants participated in the abominations and cruel rites of pa- ganism. While no one can be so irrational as to look for a genuine experience of religion in every in- dividual, the surrounding grossness must be a serious obstacle to the ad- vancement of those who profess the Christian name. Convert a heathen and leave him in the midst of his old idolatries and unholy associa * Missionary Life in Samoa; or Life of George Archibald Lumlie. New York: R. Carter. Page 127, 128, et seq. tionsexpose him still to the al- lurements of licentious dances and gamestempt him with the lawless independence of his former condi- tion, in place of the restraints and self-denial of Christianityand it will be a miracle if he preserve his integrity. But if in addition to these temptations, visitors from civ- ilized nations conspire to undermine his faith and virtue, and Tommo~ and Long Ghosts play their insidi- ous words into the ears of the Ideca and Loos of such communities, and with refined hypocrisy, devout- l~ clasp their hands and implore a blessing, t the day may be long postponed before pure religion will become established in those lovel isles. Like all superficial writers, Mr. Melville leaves the greater. part of his task unperformed. He does not allude to the former degradation of the female population, with its ma- ny consequent evils. But with a partiality quite characteristic, he quotes Kotzebue and Beechey in support of his positions. The first, though uttering in almost every page a host of misstatements, gives us the following information, after speak- ing of the reform in the thieving propensity of the Tahitians. Neither can I deny that the morals of the Tahitians were very exceptionable in another point, in which also the influence of the missionaries has been beneficially exerted. The same author says: After many fruitless efforts, some English missionaries succccded at length in the year 1797, in introducing what they called Christianity into Tahiti, and even in gaining over to their doctrine the king Tajo, who then governed the whole isl- and in peace and tranquillity. This con- version was a spark thrown into a pow- Omon, p. 348. Hereupon, every body present looked exceedingly pleased; Po-Po corning up, and addressing the doc- tor [Long Ghost], with much warmth; and Arfretee, regarding him with almost maternal affection, exclaimed delightedly, Ab I mickonaree tata maitail in other words, What a pious young man 1 1848.] ]Ilissionary Operations in Polynesia. 53 der magazine, and was followed by a dreadful explosion. The marais were soddenly destroyed by order of the king every memorial of the former worship defacedthe new religion forcibly estab- lished, and whoever would not adopt it, put to death. With the zeal for making proselytes, the rage of tigers took posses- sion of a people once so gentle. Streams of blood flowedwhole races were ex- terminated.* The religion tan ~htby the missionaries is not true Christianity, though it may possibly comprehend some of its doctrities, but half understood by the teachers themselves. That it was es- tablished by force, is of itself an evidence against its Christian principle. A reli- gion which consists in the eternal repeti- tion of prescribed prayers, which forbids every innocent pleasure, and cramps or annihilates every mental power, is a libel on the Divine Founder of Christianity, the benign Friend of human kind.t Our Russian navigator proceeds to use the language quoted by Mr. Melville, that with some good, re- ligion has done a great amount of evil. It has restrained the vices of theft and incontinence, but it has given birth to ignorance, hypocrisy, and a hatred and contempt of all other modes of faith once foreign to the open and benevolent character of the Tahitian ! Christianity, which found the Tahitians without a written language, and in twenty years gave them the Bible, and books of scientific and literary char- acter, gave birth to ignorance ! Christianity, which found the Tahi- tians treacherous, like all other un- refined nations who have no moral sense, gave birth to hypocrisy, ~vhich is a universal trait of the hu- man heart when left free to devel- op its depravity! Christianity gave birth to intolerance, when the truth is that since the introduction of the Gospel, the liberality of the people is in delightful contrast with the fe- rocious wars of their former state Christianity put to death the hapless victims of its savage power, when the record is in all Polynesia, with only one exception, that the clem- ency and tenderness of the Christians after the battles waged by the exas- perated heathen, gave convincing evidence of the truth and loveliness of the new religion! On page 231, says Mr. Melville The entire system of idolatry has been done away, together with several barbarous practices engrafted thereon. But this result is not so touch to be ascri- bed to the missionaries, as to the civiliz~- ing effects of a long and constant inter- course with the whites of all nations; to whom. for many years, Tahiti has been one of the principal places of resort in the South seas. At the Sandwich Isl- ands, the potent institution of the Tabu, together with the entire paganism of the land, was utterly abolished by a volunta- ry act of the natives, sonic time previous to the arrival of the first missionartes among them. We have no desire to disparage the civilizing effects of a long and constant intercourse with whites of all nations,what they were we cheerfully leave our asthor to do- fitie. So far as all reliable history sheds light on the question, the only civilization that Pomare I. and IL. and their chiefs learned was the use of firearms and distilled spirits, in- stead of the disgusting Avauntil 1812, when Pomare IL, during his expatriation from Tahiti, professed Christianity. The great temple of Oro was in the district of Atehuru, Tahiti, and in 1801, a great council having been held, Otu and his father pretended to receive communication from heav- en that Oro wished to be conveyed to Tautira, in Taiarabu, and on re- sistance of the Atehuruan chiefs, a great conflict ensued. The ani- mosities contintied with various suc- cesses for several years, when in 1808 Pomare fled to Eimeo, and those of the missionaries who re- mained behind him left on 22d De- cember, 1809. During the exile of Pomare his thoughts were turned to Christianity, and on the 18th July, 1812, he professed the Christian re- ligion. In 1814 he was invited to return to Tahiti, and after a time thought himself and his Christian ~ Kotzebue, 2 vols. Svo, London, vol. i, 159. 1 Ibid, i, 168. 54 Missionary Operations in Polynesia. [Jan. subjects secure. The heathen par- ty, however, sought to destroy them in a great battle on the 7th of July, 1815, but the Christians anticipating an attack were all prepared to em- bark, and escaped in their canoes to Eimeo. The heathen party finding themselves foiled,in order to revenge themselves for old quarrels, fell into a bloody contest on the spot, when Pomare was soon after recalled by the conquerors. On the 12th of No- vember, 1815, the last battle which stained Tahitian soil with heathen sacrifices took place, and Pomare was acknowledged undisturbed sove- reign. The overthrow of idolatry immediately consequent on his ac- cession, was the direct result of mis- sionary labor. And so in every in- stance, with the exception of the Sandwich Islands alone. Our author betrays another evi- dence of ignorance by saying, page 267, that the cocoa-nut and bread- fruit trees were destroyed in the sanguinary religious hostilities which ensued upon the conversion to Chris- tianity of the first Pomare The hostility was on the side of the hea- then, xvho endeavored to destroy the Christians, and these girdled groves of bread-fruit are the sad evidences of the desolation which marked hea- then warfare. After Pomare had routed the reb- els on the 12th of November, they took themselves to the mountains and caves, expecting to be pursued and put to deaththeir children slaughtered, their houses burnt to the ground, and their trees destroy- ed. But the stragglers after two or three days ventured to peep out, and finding every thing around them in peace, emboldened by their secu- rity, came out of their hiding pla- ces, and were met by assurances of protection. They could not believe their eyes and ears at what they saw and heard, but when they found that their families xvere safe, and their fruit trees uninjured, and that nothing but the great idol and the false gods and temples were de- stroyed, they marched out in a body and submitted to Pomare, crying out, that the new religion alone could have produced this change. After this event, commenced those improvements which have resulted in making Tahiti a place where whites of all nations can resort. ~fh destruction of the groves of bread-fruit and cocoa-nut trees was one of the most deplorable features of heathen warfare. The people, as well as the chiefs, often spoke of it in allusion to the blessings of Christianity. Said one of the chiefs of IRa ratonga, to Mr. Williams We were fools enough to fight with the trees as well as with men; since we cut many down ourselves, lest our ene- mies sheuld eat the fruit of them; and others cur conquerors destruyed. If it were possible I would put new bark on all these trees, and fill up the gashes in all the others ; for, wherever I go, they stare me in the face, and remind me of my defeat. However, young trees are growing fast, and I am planting cocoa-nuts in all directions; so that my possessions will he equally valuable with those of our conquerors; and I am under no apprehen- sion of having them again destroyed; for the Gospel has t)ut an end to our wars. These struggles, often resulting in the depopulation of whole districts, were frequent before the introduc- tion of Christianitybut wherever the Gospel has been established, wars have ceased. Mauke, the isl- and visited by Lord Byron, is anoth- er instance of the change. Two or three years before the teachers land- ed there, Ramo-tane, the chief of Atiu, one of the Hervey Group, in order to extend his dominions, pass- ed over to Mauke, and destroyed the people, set fire to the houses con- taining the sick, and seizing those who attempted to escape, tossed them upon fires kindled for the pur- pose! Occasional famines and these horrible contests were leadin0 mo- tives for the infanticide so prevalent in Polynesia. It was indeed a sgec- tacle morally sublime in the highest degree, that this same IRamo-tane, the murderous chieftain, himself be- 1848.1 Missionary Operations in Polynesia. 55 came the first bearer of the words of Christ to the people of Mauke, after his conversion, and was one of the first company who united in that lovely isle, in celebrating the dying love of the Prince of Peace. While civilization has not yet taught the two greatest nations of the world to beat their swords and spears into ploughs and pruning-hooks, the fe- rocious and sanguinary idolater has learned the lessons of infinite love, and weeps over the desolation he has occasioned to learn war no more. After the subversion of idolatry in the Georgian and Society groups, Kamehameha 1, of Hawaii (Sand- wich Islands), becoming acquainted with the advantages of Christianity, began to inquire what the new reli- gion was. He however died on the 8th of May, 1819, eleven months before the American missionaries touched at Kailna. Liholiho, (not only unprincipled, but the victim of the base arts of foreigners, who made him drunk, and wrote on paper and taught Kuakini the vilest words in the English language, and engaged in mock prayer before him, *) feeling the restraint which the tabut imposed upon his women, resolved on its overthrow. This step being favored by the chiefs and others, he prepared a feast, and de- liberately taking a forbidden dish, ~vent over to the table with the wo- men and partook of the repast. The cry went round, the kapa is bro- ken, and soon after the gloomy and bloody edifice of idolatry toppled to its ruin. The long arid civiliz- ing intercourse with foreigners had nearly defeated the Sandwich Island mission, had not providential circum- stances prevented the success of perfidious and aggrandizing schemes of interested parties, whose cupidity or whose licentious propensities they knew would be crossed by the pres- ence of missionaries. Mr. Melville continues But let us consider what results are directly ascribable to the missionaries alone. In all cases, they have striven hard to mitigate the evils resulting from the com- merce with time whites in eneral. Such attempts, however, have been injudiciou and often indflk etual in tiuth s barrier almost musuimountable is prcsmnted in the dispositions of the people themselves. Still, in tims iespect the moidlity of the Islandeis is upon the i~ hole impioved by the pm esen ( of mms~ionarmes But the oreate~t deb e~ e nent of the latter aiid one ~xhmch in itself is most hopeful and trstifN mug is that they have trasisidic d thit cntii e Bible into the lan- guage of the island; and I have myself known several who ere able to read it with facility. They have also establishcd churches, and schools for both children and adults; the latter, I regret to say, are now much neglected, which must be as- cribed, in a great measure, to the disor- ders growing out of the proceedings of the French. What the evils resulting from the commerce with the whites can be, the reader has no means of knowing from Mr. Melville, unless the abolition of idolatry, in conse- quence of the long and civilizing intercourse with foreigners, be the leading feature. We presume, how- ever, from what little we know of the subject, that the evil, so definite- ly hinted at, is the wholesale prosti- tution, in consequence of which the Tahitians and the Hawaiinns have been swept off by a terrific scourge since their intercourse with the whites commenced, and which ha been only stayed, and the hope of saving a remnant of these people fos- tered, by the establishing of Christian laws and Christian institutions. The evils, which perhaps might be re- garded as the chaffering and swind- ling operations of foreigners, are too momentous and significant to be pass- ed over without a word. And yet this profound oracle of Polynesia and Tahiti as it is, says nothing in ref- erence to it, except that the moral- ity of the islanders, is, upon the whole, improved by the missiona * Jarviss Hist. Hawaiian Islands, 241; Stewarts Private Journal, pp. 231, 2:32. t Ibwaiian, kapu. 56 Missionary Operations in Polynesia. [Jan. t-ies. The injudicious and inef- fectual attempts are nothing but the enactment of laws prohibiting licentiousness, the importation of liquors, and intemperance!! The true condition of a heathen tribe, in all the moral deformity and hideousness of their abominable and cruel rites, and the almost utter ne- gation of every thing that is good, in the intelligent use of the term, and not mere instinct, can be appre- ciated only by those who have un- dertaken as missionaries to enlighten and elevate them. And although we may now go to Tahiti, and be- hold in it, as well as in other parts of the world, the broken fragments and dreary ruins of th old systems, and all things as in the transition state; and though we may weep over the fate of tens of thousands, we have yet reason to hope that the seed sown, will at length make her rejoice in brightness and beauty. When Pornare, on the 30th of June, 1817, printed the first sheet of the spelling book, he was but giving the first impetus to that untold power which is to be the chief a~ent in the emancipation of the world. And though we m y have our ears pained by the discord, and our hearts bro- ken with grief ove the wasting families of the earth, we feel cheer- ed with the thought that there is a power which shall stem the torrent of death, or will call to judgment the guilty destroyers and their less guilty victims. The remaining remarks of our uthor are fortified with quotations from Kotzebue, Beechey, and others, and are such as favor Mr. Melvilles views. However agreeable it might be to expose the follies of this whole triad of superficial observers, the time and space requisite would make too large a demand upon the patience of our readers. A full examination of the legitimate topics of this dis- cussion, the improvement in the in- tellectual, moral, and social condi- tion of the Polynesianstheir for- mer customs and habits, the present state of society in regard to its in- dustrial interests, the introduction of various branches of art, manufac- ture, and agriculture, the establish- ing of codes of written laws, the re- cognizing of these governments as independent sovereignties, the fear- ful depopulation of the islands, and others which crowd before us, would protract our remarks to an ample folio. But we forbear the arduous task. The opinions of men who after a few days of intercourse with a peo- ple whom they see for the first time, and to whom they bid farewell in a week or a month, whether they be titled noblemen or frolicking sea- men, Von Kotzebues, Beecheys, or Melvilles, are all of little moment; yet, as Russell remarks of the first two, their opinions are such as can not fail to have great weight with the public, because their posi- tion entitles them, as observers and historians, to credit, not that they make statements which are reliable or true. Passing by Lient. Wilkess Explor- ing Expedition, we content ourselves with a single passage from Darwins Voyage of a Naturalist, the mod- esty of whose opinions, with the en- lightened character of the observer, strongly commends it to the impar- tial reader. From the varying accounts x hicti I had had before reaching these islands, was very anxious to form, fiorn my own observation, a jud~merit of their aural state, although such judgment would ne- cessarily be very iniperfect I n~t no pr ~ssions at alt times very muin Ii (tr p~ Id on ones previously acquir( d id as My notions were drawn flom LIlis s P lx n sian Researches, an admirable and most interesting work, but naturally lookmrm~ at every thing under a favomable point ot view; from Beecheys Voyage, and Imoni that of Koizebue, which is strongly ad- verse to the whole missionary system. He who compnres these three accounts will, I think, form a tolerably correct con- ception of the present state of Tahiti. One of my impressions, which I tool from the two last authorities, was de- cidedly incorrect, viz, that the Tal*ians 1848.] Missionary Operations in Polynesia. 57 had become a gloomy race, and lived in fear of the missionaries. Of the latter feeling I saw no trace, unless, indeed, Ikar and respect be confounded under one name. Instead of discontent being a common feelin it would be difficult in Europe to pick out of a crowd half so many merry and happy faces. The pro- hibition of the flute and (lancing is in- vei bed against as wrong and foolish; the inure than Presbyterian manner of keeping the Sabbah,is looked at in a sim- ilar liht. On these points I will not pretend to offer any opinion in opposition to men who have resided as many years as I have days on the island. On ti]e whole, it appears to me that the morality and religion of the iriliabi- lants are hiebly creditable. There are many who attack, eveii inure acrimoni- ously than Koizehue, both the missiona- ries, their system, and the effects prodo- ccd by it. ~nch rea~oners never compare the present state ith that of the island only twenty years ago, nor even with that of Europe at the present day; hut they compare it with the high standard of Gospel perfection. They expect the mis- sionaries to effect that which the Apostles themselves failed to do. [nasmuch as the (:Oiiditiun of the people falls short of this big Ii standard, blame is attached to the mis- si~)l~ar~, instead of credit for that which he has effected. They fiirget, ~r will not re- member, that human sacrinces arid the power of an idolatrous priestliooda sys- teni of profligacy unparalleled in any oili- er part of the ~vurldinfanticide, a con- sequence of that systeni-bloody wars, where the conquerors spared neither xvo- men nor childien that all these have been aboli bed and that dishonesty, in- tempernuce md licentiousness, have been greatly ie~uced by thu introduction of Christian In a voyager to forget these things i~ base in ~i atitude, for should he chance to be at the point of shipwreck on some unknoxx n coast, he will must do- vi)uth piay mat the influence of the mis- sionaiy may haxe extended thus far. In point of morality, the virtue of the women, it has been often said, is most open to exception. But, before they are blamed too severely, it will be well dis- tinctly to call to mind the scenes descri- bed by Captain Cook and Mr. flanks, in which the re udmothers and mothers (if the present race took a part. Those who are most severe should consider how touch of the morality of women in Eu- rope is owing to the system early impress- ed by mothers on their daughters, and how much in each individual case to the precepts of religion. But it is useless to ortrue wdhi such reesoners I believe that, disappointed iu not fading the field of Ii- cesetiousreess quite so open es formerly, they will not give credit to morality VOL. VI. 8 hick. they do not wsh to practice, or to a religion which they undervalue, if not de- spise. The unfinished records of the love scenes of our modern l3occac- cio, which leave the reader in a state of not very uncertain surmise as to the secret incidents, we commend to the conscience of lheir author in connection with the foregoing pas- sage. When we review the condition of the South Sea islanders in all its es- sential features, mistaken as some of the mtssmonaries have been in the measures they have adopted, enga- ged in a novel and almost untried enterprise, working upon materials the most repulsive and difficult, at- tempting to overturn the supersti- tions and systems of ages, breaking up the stubhorn and rugged soil, and endeavoring to soften and pit rify the callous and uncletin hearts of some of the most debased of all the cliii- dren of our common Father, xve think there is crotmnd for the belief that very much has been done to- wards their regeneration and re- demption. In our own civilized and Christian land, how many are there who present no better aspects of moral character than the half-re- claimed Tahitian or hawaiian! Our refinement only conceals and hides in secret places the moral death the loathsome and putrid carcass that preys upon hundreds of thou- sands at our very firesides, and at the thresholds of our sanctuaries. The intellectual grossness of the Polynesian, the merely animal in- stinct by which he had been, until t-ecently, governed, forms the un- sightly background upon which hH moral condition has been drawn. To look for high state of cultiva- tion, or even a proximate tinder- standing of the spiritual nature of Chrmstiantty, tn a single age, would be to require more than the civilized * Darwins Voyage of a Naturalist, (Harpers New Miscellany,) vol. ii, p. 191193. 58 Voices of Freedom. [Jati~ world, with all its refinement and its intelligence, now gives to the reli- gion of the Redeemer. Is the evan- gelized Tahitian or Hawaiian, to to he accounted a barbarian still, unless he yield a purer homage in one generation, than has the Chris- tian world with the light and privi- leges of eighteen centuries? TEE WORK HAS BEEN NOBLY BE- GUN. Wherever the missionary has been, the mariner may follow in peace and security where the mar- iner xvent first, the missionary could enter only at some serious risk. Where the missionary succeeded, a code of laws and a settled constitu- tional government have been estab- lished where the mariner first land- ed, all was left to the caprice or the cupidity of the chiefs or the foreign- ers. Where the missionaries first settled, morality and the arts were introduced: where the mariner re- sorted, the wildest licentiousness was encouraged. Where ignorance brooded over the nations, the mis- sionaries have poured abroad a flood of holy light and intelligence. The war-club and spear have given place to deeds of love and peace. The bread-fruit and the cocoa-nut, once destroyed, now rear their heads over peaceful vales and undisturbed hamlets. Honor, then, to those noble men who, burning with zeal to rescue the heathen from temporal and spir- itual death, left their homes and their enjoyments, to teach them the way of peace, and 111gb on the pagan hills, where Satan sat Encamped, and oer the subject kingdoms threw Perpetual night, to plant Immanuels cross, The ensign of the Gospel blazing round Immortal truth. VOICES OF FREEDOM.* WE have noticed with no little satisfaction for some time past, that while far the greater part of the current light literature of the day, is either positively pernicious in its influence, or is utterly insipid and useless, except to procure waste of time and ~vant of thought, there is yet another very considerable por- tion coming into existence, which has a purer aim than to corrupt and destroy, and a more exalted one, than merely to relieve the tedium of an idle hour. It seems to have been discovered at last, that men can be amused and instructed at the same time; that their passions and emotions can be aroused, and yet not vent themselves in knight-er- rantry, nor misanthropy, nor liber- tinism. It is gratifying to find that in some instances, the flowery walks of literature have been trodden by ~ Voices of Freedom; by J. G. Whit~ tier. Fourth edition. 1846. earnest and thinking men, whose ob- ject has been, not simply to weave garlands for sentimental maidens, whose nervous systems are shock- ingly out of tune, that the sickening perfume of the flowers breathed late at night in the loin sufferers close- pent chambers, may aggravate their amiable illness; but rather to ather out from the whole kingdom of na- ture, whatever is best fitted to heal the diseased, and to supply addition~ al strength and sustenance to those who are already strong to bear the burdens and to meet the conflicts of mans life. And they who, thus in- tent upon ministering healing and strength to diseased humanity, have sought through the many and diver- sified fields of nature, that great garden of Gods planting, hmivc found there many a tree of know- ledge, the fruit of which is not for- bidden, though it be beautiful to the eye and pleasant to the taste, and to

58 Voices of Freedom. [Jati~ world, with all its refinement and its intelligence, now gives to the reli- gion of the Redeemer. Is the evan- gelized Tahitian or Hawaiian, to to he accounted a barbarian still, unless he yield a purer homage in one generation, than has the Chris- tian world with the light and privi- leges of eighteen centuries? TEE WORK HAS BEEN NOBLY BE- GUN. Wherever the missionary has been, the mariner may follow in peace and security where the mar- iner xvent first, the missionary could enter only at some serious risk. Where the missionary succeeded, a code of laws and a settled constitu- tional government have been estab- lished where the mariner first land- ed, all was left to the caprice or the cupidity of the chiefs or the foreign- ers. Where the missionaries first settled, morality and the arts were introduced: where the mariner re- sorted, the wildest licentiousness was encouraged. Where ignorance brooded over the nations, the mis- sionaries have poured abroad a flood of holy light and intelligence. The war-club and spear have given place to deeds of love and peace. The bread-fruit and the cocoa-nut, once destroyed, now rear their heads over peaceful vales and undisturbed hamlets. Honor, then, to those noble men who, burning with zeal to rescue the heathen from temporal and spir- itual death, left their homes and their enjoyments, to teach them the way of peace, and 111gb on the pagan hills, where Satan sat Encamped, and oer the subject kingdoms threw Perpetual night, to plant Immanuels cross, The ensign of the Gospel blazing round Immortal truth. VOICES OF FREEDOM.* WE have noticed with no little satisfaction for some time past, that while far the greater part of the current light literature of the day, is either positively pernicious in its influence, or is utterly insipid and useless, except to procure waste of time and ~vant of thought, there is yet another very considerable por- tion coming into existence, which has a purer aim than to corrupt and destroy, and a more exalted one, than merely to relieve the tedium of an idle hour. It seems to have been discovered at last, that men can be amused and instructed at the same time; that their passions and emotions can be aroused, and yet not vent themselves in knight-er- rantry, nor misanthropy, nor liber- tinism. It is gratifying to find that in some instances, the flowery walks of literature have been trodden by ~ Voices of Freedom; by J. G. Whit~ tier. Fourth edition. 1846. earnest and thinking men, whose ob- ject has been, not simply to weave garlands for sentimental maidens, whose nervous systems are shock- ingly out of tune, that the sickening perfume of the flowers breathed late at night in the loin sufferers close- pent chambers, may aggravate their amiable illness; but rather to ather out from the whole kingdom of na- ture, whatever is best fitted to heal the diseased, and to supply addition~ al strength and sustenance to those who are already strong to bear the burdens and to meet the conflicts of mans life. And they who, thus in- tent upon ministering healing and strength to diseased humanity, have sought through the many and diver- sified fields of nature, that great garden of Gods planting, hmivc found there many a tree of know- ledge, the fruit of which is not for- bidden, though it be beautiful to the eye and pleasant to the taste, and to 1848.] Voices of Freedom. 59 be desired to make one xvise. They have shown, and are still showing, by their productions, that not every voice of inviting melody is to be shut out from our cars at first sound, as if its very enchantment must prove it to be that of a syren, which delights and allures only to destroy. They have taught us, that not every form of beauty should warn us at first sight, to turn from beholding, as if its captivating aspect were enough of itself to prove it to be some Circean monster, which chan- ges all who expose themselves to the influence of its magic spells, to loathsome brutes. The stern phi- losophy which would make truth ne- cessarily repulsive to all not dispo- sed to obey its dictates, has been obliged to admit as much at least as this, that if perverse and corrupting principles may find their way to the heart, under the fascinating disguise of a beautiful exterior, the maxims of sound wisdom may reach the same fountain of feeling and of ac- tion, under the same disguise. And if it be denied that there is any thing good in the disguise in the one in- stance, it must be admitted that there need be nothing evil in it, in the se- cond. If a subtle and deadly poi- son may be administered unperceiv- ed, in a draught so pleasant as that all appetites will relish its sweet- ness; so the antidote which the dis- eased may regard as loathsome in itself, may be given in the same form. If the child, trained up in circumstances adverse to his moral improvement, under the constant in- fluence of those who are bitterly hostile to all good, may become gradually worse and worse, till at length he knows so little of what good is, as to be insensible of the extent to which evil reigns in every desire of his soul ; so, under the in- fluence of a different training, may another become far more deeply in love with all goodness than he is aware, till rough contact with the world reveals to himself more clear- ly the governing principles of his own mind. And the means which shall contribute to this happy result in the one case, and this unhappy one in the other, may not be paren- tal example and instruction alone. If a bad book, drawn up in a fasci- nating style, both of language and of conception, may do its reader more harm than he is aware, so a good book with the same pleasing address, may do its reader more good than he is aware. It is well that some are beginning to see this. And when they attempt to set forth truth, adorned with the gorgeous colors which imagination showers upon its own creation, and the cau- tious critic insinuates that there must be an insidious poison lurking be- neath so much beauty; they may well dare to say of their own, and similar productions, as the shrewd John Wesley said in defense of him- self, for having employed some of the gayer airs of the festive hall, to set forth the raptures of religious emotion It is a pity that the devil should have all the best music. It is also a pity, that the devil should have all the best literature. It is a most mournful pity, in the estima- tion of one who has a mind to per- ceive and a heart to feel whatever is most beautiful and glorious in Gods creation, that the power of evil should claim the most just rep- resentation of that beauty, that glo- ry, as the instrument of accomplish- ing its own dark purposes of wretch- edness and ruin to man. It is a sub- ject for the deepest regret that this is, and has long been, so far true, as that many readers of pure and elevated moral sentiments, have been accustomed to associate intellectual beauty with moral deformity, so in- variably, as to suspect that wherever the former is exhibited, the latter must be a necessary accompaniment. Thus, whenever they are told, on the publication of a new work in some department of fictitious or ima- ginative literature, that it may be 60 Voices of Freedom. [Jan. safely placed in the hands of the young; they insensibly begin to re- gard that statement as equivalent to one, that the new produetion has too little life, beauty, richness of thought and imagery, to secure the attention of the young, who have already had a taste of the forbidden fruit, which the tempter urges upon them with disguised and prevailing earnestness. Thus too, many an honest hearted guardian or instructor of youth, feels compelled to warn his charge to shrink from entering what he him- self regards as the most brilliant and inviting fields of literature, as they would shrink from the touch of contagion, or from the instigations of the foul fiend. It is however, as has been already stated, a subject for hope and con- ~ratulation, that the exceptions to the general rule of perversity in aim, or inanity in substance, or both, among mere literary writers, are be- coming more and more frequent. Occasionally we find one giving to his thoughts a gayer and more di- versified coloring than absolute re- ality would warrant, and yet show- ing himself to be in earnest in toil- ing for the improvement and hap- piness of his fellow men. While the teeming and licentious imagina- tion of French fenilletonists, has not ceased to invent all monstrous and prodigious things to gratify the dis- eased appetite of their million read- ers, there is yet not entirely want- ing among all of these, the evidence of an honest purpose to expose and break down false theories and old abuses, however little skill they may possess to build up better upon the ruins they make. In Paris itself, the worlds emporium of literary, as well as of every other species of trifling, it has been found that mere vivacity of description, and fertility of aimless and useless invention, will no longer ensure an author the sale of a new volume, each return- ing week. And in England, and in our own country, the demand, even among read ers of magazines and lit- erary weeklies, for something which has strength and reality and a noble aim, is becoming stronger and loud- er. He who looks for nothing be- yond popular success, as a writer for such publications, is taught from many sources, that no small part of the reading world is beginning to turn its patronage in favor of those who speak out, roost truthfully and nobly, the genuine emotions of hu- manity, groaning and sighing for re- lease from the heavy bondage of er- ror, and depravity, and injustice. Thus he is convinced that he, or those soon to come after him, must expect a lot of shame and neglect if, in the face of such a demand fo what is wrnest, and real, and refor- ma tory, they can exhibit themselves in no higher characte than that of in- ventors ax~d vendors of elegant tri(Ls, In the department of poetry, (and it is to that princip lly, that we re- fer in these observations,) it would be easy to specify instances, both in England and in this country, show- ing that a single fugitive piece, ap- parently thrown off by its author in a few happy moments, when nature and humanity, in defiance of art and selfishness, both prompted and gui- ded his effort, has done more to awa- ken a healthy and strong action in the great heart of the Saxon people, than a lengthened and labored poem, with nothing to commend it, but a soulless and classical beauty, or the revelin as of a prodigal imagination, in the misty realm of the ideal. The recent effect of such effusions upon the minds of millions, whose taste for the beautiful and imagina- tive, had been fed only by affected conceits, or monstrously exaggera- ted real sentiments, or the reeking garbage of sensualists; has been similar to the impression produced upon the same minds, by the sing- ing of one worthy and justly admi- red family. People had been ac- customed to expect, as a matter of course, at concerts, to hear unintel 1848.] Voices of Freedom. 61 ligible screechings, in what was claimed to be a foreign tongue, though as uttered it was no earthly language, and to see moustached Signore Somebody, and dark-eyed Signorina Somebody-else, go into convulsions, befbre some thousand spectators, as if about to give up the ghost, in a great agony of tortured and torturing sound. And even they who had any little remains of heart and soul left, beneath the moun- tain-burden of conventionalism, had been compelled, by fear of losing caste with reputed people of taste, to affect little less extravagant rap- tures of admiration, that such un- earthly, not to say angelic or divine notes, could be extorted from the human larynx. But when a gracious Providence, as if intent upon presenting anew, some tokens of its first perfect xvork, to a world that had forsworn their nature, as well as their God, permitted such people to hear human beings sing again as of old, of mercy and of judgment, with notes, words and sentiments, that were all recognized at once to be their own language; that were to them the expression of emotions that they had deemed all unutterable; that open new foun- tains in the human heart, as well as stirred the old ; while thus wrought upon by the combined power of soul enkindled melody, and soul kindling truth, they felt themselves iii too awful and holy a presence, to profane its sanctity by any riotous uproar of their own. They felt that they could call that divine,~~ with less appearance of blasphemy, since there was so much more in it of man as made in Gods image, and not in the mould of fashion, or after the code of fantastic, though tyrant custom. Here was music with no pretensions to high art. But it needed none; for it was na- ture, human nature. It was felt to be the outpourings of free, gener- ous human hearts. They needed no newly coined, or foreign termin ology, to describe it. Its effect was its only just description. Precisely the same thing may be said of those soul stirring lyrics, that have occasionally found their way, from some source, into the public prints, within the last few years. It were useless labor to attempt to show them consistent or inconsistent, with rules, derived from any of the an- cient or modern masters. Their ef- fect upon intelligent,nay, upon all minds, proves their inspiration. A. single instance will sufficiently ex- plain our meaning. One of these fugitive poems, the production, if we mistake not, of the late rphomas Hood, a few years since, fell under the notice of one, whose great mind also now sees in the vast vision of eternity. Lie was one of the most keen-sighted of all men, most elo- quent, with nothing to adorn or dive force to his eloquence, but the crys- tal clearness of his own thought. With sensibilities that were proof against all causes that were not in reality the most moving, with no taste for poetical composition, as such, he commenced reading the piece, consisting only of a few stan- zas. It presented in its own vivid and pregnant manner, thoughts which he recognized at once to he things of his own deep and T)ainful experience, and so overcome was he with his own emotions, that, though he repeatedly attempted, he could not for the time read the few stanzas through. Call the odd rhymes, and the irregular versifica- tion of Thomas Flood ny what name the critic pleases; his lines or the lines of any other, which will pro- duce such effects, upon such a mind, are poetry. And it is only in giving such vivid and touching expression, to just and true sentiments, that po- etry is doing its office, is fulfilling its mission. And the millions of the poor, the unfortunate, the down-trodden in Brilnin, have rea- son to bless the memory of Thomas Hood, that, notwithstanding all his 62 Voices of Freedom. [Jan. apparent trifling with the serious things of life, he did yet, in some instances, with a most awful and imploring earnestness, speak in the ears of the rich and mighty, in their hehalf: and they have to thank him, too, for the utterance of what, to their own breaking hearts, has been the great and growing agony of many years. And the future will show, that he and others, animated with still more of the same spirit of deep sympathy with suffering hu- manity, have not spoken or written in vain. Their fugitive pieces will find their way into the gorgeous mansion of the millionaire, the an- cestral halls of the peer, and the pal- ace of the sovereign, xvhere the presence of their authors would have been deemed a profanation. And they will enter there, not like the frowning and licentious minstrel of old, to smile, to flatter, and to sing of love; but to cry, like the voice, thought to have been heard by the conscience-smitten Macbeth, to the fair lady, reclining listlessly on the silken divan, and to the proud lord, whose untasked mind is weary with the burden of finding its own diver- sion; sleep no more, for the hag- gard hand of cold and hungerin poverty, murders the sleep of groan- ing millions. The toilers in garrets, in cellars, in mud hovels, fever- smitten and hunger-mad, sleep not. Lean famine, provoked and almost necessitated crime and despairing suicide, sleep not. Flow canst thou ? Hoods Song of the Shirt is still thus speaking, though its author is dead. And it is the ap- propriate office of poetry, thus to give utterance to the deep woe of the dumb millions, who can only sigh and weep in expression of their misery. It is its office, like the Gos- pel, to speak for the poor, the heart- broken, the comfortless, and not simply, to pander to the luxuries and vices of those to whom truth is ever a stern and rebuking messenger. If the poet, as is claimed for him, pos sess more than womans tenderness, and childhoods innocence, and a prophets inspiration, he should ex- hibit in his verses, a heart throbbing with pity for the pangs of any thing that is high enough in the scale of being to suffer, much more for the highest of Gods creatures in this world, man; he should shrink with shuddering horror from the praise of successful crime, and he should speak of truth and righteousness, as one sent from God. God be thanked, that in this, our free America, we have at least one poet, who seems thus to have understood the proper use of the gift and faculty divine. It would not be strange, however, if many readers among his own countrymen need be told that such a man lives, that his name is JOHN G. WIlirTisR. It is very certain that many readers of high-wrought fiction, many weep- ers over unreal sorrows, many sym- pathizers with ideal suffering, many haters of imaginary monsters, many fair singers of songs conceived in the prurient brain of the profligate, have never known with what earn- est and soul-kindling words, this qui- et man of peace has poured out his own deep and deploring commiser- ation of their great sorrow, into whose souls the torturing iron of bon- dage has been long and pestilently driven. Certain it is that many such readers have never learned to sym- pathise with this Friend poet, in the lofty and defiant indignation, with which he has hurled his just and fiery rebuke, in the face of the foul spirit of sect, and selfishness, and iron-hearted wrong. And yet, as the world goes, it is no very strange thing that Whittiers Poems, which are but the written emotions of a most generous and lofty soul, should seldom find their way, in embossed covers and embellished leaves, to the parlor table or the drawing room cabinet. For it is for the most part, artificial, affected emotion, that is studied, and practiced, and exhibited 1848j Voices of Freedom. there; not that which comes, burst- ing like a fire fountain, from a heart thrilling with sympathy for all that is nearest and deepest, and most ac- tual in human woe. Many a gentle mother, who listens with tears to her daughter at her piano, singing the Pens Farewell to Arabys daugh- ter, or a legend of some hopeless maiden repining in unrequited love, centuries ago, amid the loathed lux- uries of feudal halls, in Andalusia or old Castile, would he ashamed to have that same adored child of hers, learn and sing in the presence of her visitors, The Farewell of a Viy mm slave mother to her daugh- ters, sold into southern bondage~ And not because the latter is want- ing in poetical sentiment, or in equally touching and beautiful ex- pression. The difference is, that the one is the cold, though glittering frost-work of fiction, while the oth- er is near, present, conscience-smi- ting truth. Therefore it is, that the one must be received with ecstacies of admiration, while the other must he proscribed and exiled from the realm where custom, and prejudice, and self-styled respectability, hold th& r tyrant sway. The despairing wail of the slave mother pierces the heart to the depth where the sense of duty dwellsthe ballad reaches no farther than the nervous, hysteri- cal region of sentiment. The for- mer rouses emotion, which struggles to vent itself, in noble and benevo- lent action. The latter excites feel- ing, only to send it abroad in listless dissipation over far remote time, and distance, and uncertainty; while the starving poor shiver in Un- tended raggedness within hearing of that song, and the weary bond- man wears his chain in the same land, with his groans unheeded and his wrongs unredressed. And yet the Farewell of the Virginian mother, and many similar productions of the same writer, are not without their po~ver to move, even such hearts as have long been well nigh insensible to all just and generous feeling We know nothing of the physical mold of this J. G. Whittier; but if he can speak his poems, breathing into the delivery the same living fire which is embodied in them, and if he will do it, even in the strongholds of conventiorialism, in the hearing of brave men and fair women, the former may restrain their in- dignation at the wrong upon which he pours his scathing reproof, and the latter may forbid their tears to flow for the suffering which he com- miserates, if they can. And here we apply one of the surest tests of the genuineness of all poetical composition. It should be such that it can be spoken, ~nd that when well spoken, its successive thoughts, its unfolding meaning, will tell upon the mind of the hearer, like each well aimed shot of the can- nonier, against a wall that has al- ready been shaken, and is falling, stone by stone. Poetry, if it be worthy of the name, loses more than half of its power when deprived of the accompaniment of the voice. The poet even now is under license to speak of himself as a singer, and in the olden time, when his profes- sion and even the present produc- tions in his art received th ir char- acter, he did actually deliver, not mumble, and mouth, and barbarize, under the pretence of singing his own verse. And for any one in these days aspiring to the name of poet, to write so obscurely, or with sentiments appealing so little to ac- tual convictions and experience in the human heart, as that his lines cannot be rendered doubly effective by delivery, is for him to show him- self unfit for his profession. And to attempt to appreciate the full force of the most true and essential poe- try, by only glancing the eye Si- lently over the page whereon it is inscribed, is like attempting to feel the power and beauty of the Oratorio of the Messiah, or of the Creation, by reading its notes silently. Lie 64 Voices of Freedom. [Jan. who is already a master, may do omething near this, even in music. He can ascertain what emotion the piece is fitted to awaken, but he must hear it, in order that that emo- tion may be aroused to any thing like ItS full strength even in his own mind. And so it is with poetry. The poem which is so refined, or so obscure, or so little within the range of human thought, as that it can not be read aloud, ad be rendered doubly impressive by such reading, is too much like the music which is so ethereal, or so much the phan- tasm of sound, as that it can not be exhibited in actual performance, but must dissolve and die from rude contactwith instruments, or the or- gans of the human voice. Notwith- standing the judgment of some crit- ics, xvhose vocabulary for the de. script ion of nonentities is well nigh unlimited and overwhelu ing, xve must believe tlv t such music and such poetry, are as yet unwritten. At any rate, there is none of either tn this little volume, entitled, Voices of Freedom. But of re 1 melody, vigorous, stirring thought, such as leads even the silent reader, who has any heart in him, to spring involun- tarily erect, and set himself in the attitude and act of delivery, there is much. And we think it would do good to some grave and reverend entlemen, who seem to have learn- ed no other method of pronouncin~ rythmetical lines, than a certain inarticulate slumberous mumble- meat, to rend the hook through aloud, and to endeavor to infuse into their own tones and enunciation, some little of the life, soul, and a- ergy, which breathe ad burn in the poems themselves. The author also deserves mtch nraise for his happy choice of lan- guage. And very much in this lies the secret of his great strengthof the fact that his poems can he read, and delivered so effectively. He makes use of none but vigorous, in- telligible, truth-telling words. They seem to have been chosen, not sim ply to complete a stanza, or to give an appearance of depth and mystery to the meaning, or to match a rhyme, but because they carry onward, re- sistlessly, the fire and impetuosity of the thought. They do not seem to have been culled out from dic- tionaries, or gathered up from an- cient ballad readings, or to have re- ceived their collocation and shades of meaning from the idioms of a foreign language. They seem to the reader, rather to have been the result of a first and instinctive choice from the language that is now living in the heart, and speaking on the tongue, of the great Saxon people and consequently, they carry their meaning to the heart. There are no expressions here, fitted only to play in misty gyration around the region of fancy or conjecture. And consequently, whatever the world may say, justly or unjustly, of these poems, their uthor will never need to raise that common, deprecatory cry of muddy-brained writers, writh- ing tinder criticism, they are not understood. Would that the poets of coming generations would take example in this, as well as some other respects, froni Friend Whit- tier. Surely, the last half century has furnished the world with cloud- land and dream-land enough, to practice speculation and meta- physical knight-errantry upon, for all time to come. Would that here- after, authors would spare us the ne- cessity of witnessing the vain effort of their minds to bring forth thoughts which they deem too great for ex- pressionthat they would learn, in the third heaven of their own fancy, the unspeakable visions and voices which they struggle, all ineffectual- ly, to report to us, poor inhabitants of this plain matter-of-fact world. There is another, far more impor- tant, particular in which we would give this author our most decided commendation. His sympathies are with the age in which he lives, for the human beings that are living, toiling, suffering, sinning, around 1848.1 Voices of Freedom. 65 him. He does not seem to have been possessed by that most com- mon, yet most mistaken notion of poets, that in order to write what shall live after them, they must keep themselves aloof from the interests, the sentiments and the actual, every- day life, of their own time. They think they must vindicate their claim to the name of prophet, or hard, by ever reaching forth, with anxious and empty ~rasping, for the unseen, the unattained, the everlasting to be that hath been. And thus when the future heconies the present, and they are numbered with the genera- tions of the past, their works shall still live, and exert a controlling in- fluence over the thoughts, and the more spiritual life, of the genera- tions succeeding. Vain dreamers! Could they even speak of the fu- ture with oracular authority; of what worth, wuuid their imperfect and enigmatical responses he, to an age which can look on the reality? And hesides, are not the most en- grossing subjects of thought and feeling among all men, few in num- ber, and similar in character? And will not the poet hest vindicate his title to immortality, by the variety, vit~or, or power, of his exhibition of them? It is much the same thing in its most essential particulars, to live tins life of ours, in all times. And he who can draw no poetry from human life, much as it can he observed and is experienced wher- ever men are, such as it must be with all its joys and sorrows and in- finite responsibilities, is no poet. If then, any would both acquire fame, and accomplish good to man, by this species of writing, and thus be read and revered in other times, let them imbue their verse with the growing spirit, the toiling, struggling life, of their own age. So have the sons of fame done in all the past. Those that are read, and will be read, by generations to come, are those that spoke most truthfully of their own time. What if they VoL. VI. 9 had thought it unfitting that they should so write as to be read and understood by their cotemporaries, would they be read by us? Is not the present momentarily becoming the past, and as distance throws its enchantment over its wide abyss of forgetfulness and uncertainty, will it not become, in the estimate of ages yet to succeed, far more the region of poetry, the hatmt of im- agination, the golden realm of ideal beauty, than their own practical, mechanical present? And what names shall then be more surely preserved, from the all engulfing abyss of the past, than those, who have enshrined in their clear and glowing thoughts, the most vivid and truthful representation of that ad- mired and studied period. And above all, if it shall be, as we trust in God and in truth it shall, that at some future time, the yoke of bond- age shall be lifted from human limbs and human souls; the narrow and covetous spirit of sect, and creed, and all uncharitableness, shall lose its predominant sway, and whatever is most just, and true, and godlike, in principle arid in action, shall be mostadmnired and applauded; whose names will then be gathered out from the dark and selfish past, to be cherished in the most honored re- membrance, if not those, who, in the midst of the most hollow preten- sion, heartlessness and gross iniqui- ty, spoke with the most earnest and thrilling words, in rebuke of wrong, in defense of the helpless, in support of all that is even most true, and real and lasting? And if this shall really be the principle, upon which distant posterity will revere or con- demn those who have gone before them, then certainly our author has a fair prospect of receiving much of their honor, and what is more, if it come from the good, much of their gratitude. These poems deserve commend- ation also, because they not only sympathize with the age in which 66 Voices of Freedom. [Jan. they are written, but also deal with the realities of that age. Every period has its imaginary, as well as its actual world; the imaginary of one, differing as much from that of another, as the actual of its own period, differs from that of another, or from the imaginary of either. The present has its own ideal, well peopled with the unsubstantial im- ages, of its own inverted beauty and deformity, happiness and misery. It has its own marital speculations, suddenly accumulated fortunes, im- passioned love, deep laid plots of villainy, drawing-room disasters, watering place adventures, ball- room ecstasies. It has its own pre- tended admiration for the wonders of external nature; its premeuitated rhapsodies, over mouniain, and lake, and waterfall, storm-cloud, sunset skies, and stormy nights, and all originated within the narrow wails of a starveling authors garretall, from first to last, having their most substantial existence, in the muslin or paper bound volume, which, not only the boarding-school miss, and the city clerk, but far graver per- sonages, read in the steamboat, the railroad car and the closet, to talk of in the parlor, the social circle, and by the way-side, and to dream of in the dormitory. This is the imagin- ary world of the present, upon which too many expend whatever they have of thought, feeling, or emotion. There is also an actual world of the present, which deals in far high- er interest, and presents far more subjects for thought and action. It exhibits man as he is, subjected to the demands of the most awful and illimitable responsibilities; a crea- ture capable of soaring forever to- ward the infinite heights of the di- vine excellency, or of plunging, with continually accelerated flight, down the dark, unfathomed, infinite a~yss of eternal guilt and eternal woe. And this eternal world presents on every hand, instances of this contin- ually increasing excellence in the slow process of attainment by man, and this continually ir~creasing guilt, and the liabilities to its consequent wo. Within its range the loud curse of the blasphemer, and the importunate prayer of him who ~vould be delivered from continu- ally besetting sin, are heard to- gether. The agonizing cry of mill- ions in many lands, in bondage to iniquity, to ignorance, to man, goes up to heaven, as a perpetual im- precating sacrifice, to call down vengeance or deliverance. And in this actual world of the present, there are not only wi-ongs, and woes, and despair; but also love for the outcast, commiseration for the sor- rowing, energetic, persevering toil for the good of all, and high hope for the coming of a better day. It is not strange, that a just appre- ciation of the real condition of such a world, has led at least one poet, to find in it, subjects fitted to call forth the highest exercise of his powers. No wonder he finds so little occa- sion to describe imaginary sorrows, while he knows of real, which are so great as to surpass his utmost power of description? How can he waste efforts in endeavoring to make his readers shudder at his pictures of imaginary monsters, when the daily tidings of the times tell him of thousands who foreswear the ties of humanity, and deem Gods image in man a thing as base and merchant- able as paltry gold? All honor to the poet who dares speak of such things as they are, and who seeks to build the lofty rhyme upon the imperishable foundation of truth and righteousness. And thou, great Father, who dost acknowledge, as thy children, the dark browned sons of bondage, not less than their pale brethren of northern climes; give utterance to VoIcEs of FREEPON, till they shall sound like a trumpet blast throughout all this guilty land, and the foul spirit of oppression shall be scourged, by the fiery bolts of truth, beyond all our borders and out of the world. ~848j Deweys Controversial Writings. 67 DEWEYS CONTROVERSIAL WR1TINGS.* THE greater part of the articles which compose this volume, have been in one form or another, for some time before the public; and have received much of the attention, to which as elegant and impressive discussions, they are certainly en- titled. There is great beauty of stylemuch force, and much feli- city, of language about them. They display a rich and vigorous imagin- ation, a fine and cultivated taste, and for the most part an elevated and courteous spirit; to all which we regret that, by the hostile bear- ing of the work upon our orthodox faith, we are obliged to render but the scanty justice of this paragraph. We discover also a comprehen- sive and philosophical turn of thought in many of his discourses ; of which that for Miracles preliminary to the argument for a Revelation, is perhaps the finest specimen. His views too, of inspiration, display the same tendency toward enlarged and general views; though of these we can by no means speak with the same unqualified approbation. This philosophical tendency, however, requires great accuracy of discrim- ination, and much logical force, to render its results at all valuable. Without these, it is apt to deprive us of facts of the utmost moment, and give us instead of them, only barren and useless generalizations; an objection to which in our view, much of our author~ s reasoning lies open. The fact however, that Dr. Deweys work has been so generally known to our readers, and his liter- ary and philosophical merit so gen- erally and highly appreciated, may serve as an apology if we confine our remarks, to a consideration of it in the aspect to which its con- troversial character naturally in- vites us. The two opening chapters of the volume, one upon The Unitarian Belief, and the other upon The nature of Religious Belief, present to us a question of some interest, in which our author stands at issue with Prof. Stuart. In his review of Mrs. Danas recent work, the last named gentleman has dropped some very significant expressions, with reference to the use of orthodox terms in some portion of the work before us, alledging that in using the the words Atonement, Regenera- tion, Depravity, & c., to express the religious belief of Unitarians, em- ploying at the same time an en- tirely new set of definitions, Dr. D. has been guilty of a degrading ar- tifice, and one which merits the scorn of every upright man, & o. These remarks Dr. 1). quotes in a note, as a surprising comment upon his language and his motives; and replies in a style which, though not undignified, is exceedingly warm. The practice which Prof. S. thus severely reprehends, had been so frequent, and is so unjust to what we deem the truth, that though the topic is a most uninviting one, we feel constrained to point out the utter futility of the vindication which Dr. D. has attempted. He argues that he has nowhere professed to use these terms in the orthodox sense, but that throughout as every reader must see, a discrimination is studiously made between the ortho. dox and the liberal construction of them ;that even if used wit/tout any express qualification, the very position of the writer obviously qual- ifies them ; and finally that the terms in question are scriptural terms, to which one has as good a * Discourses and Reviews, upon ques. tions in Controversial Theology, and Practicat Retigion. By Orvitte Dewey, D.D., Pastor of the Church of the Messiah in New York.

~848j Deweys Controversial Writings. 67 DEWEYS CONTROVERSIAL WR1TINGS.* THE greater part of the articles which compose this volume, have been in one form or another, for some time before the public; and have received much of the attention, to which as elegant and impressive discussions, they are certainly en- titled. There is great beauty of stylemuch force, and much feli- city, of language about them. They display a rich and vigorous imagin- ation, a fine and cultivated taste, and for the most part an elevated and courteous spirit; to all which we regret that, by the hostile bear- ing of the work upon our orthodox faith, we are obliged to render but the scanty justice of this paragraph. We discover also a comprehen- sive and philosophical turn of thought in many of his discourses ; of which that for Miracles preliminary to the argument for a Revelation, is perhaps the finest specimen. His views too, of inspiration, display the same tendency toward enlarged and general views; though of these we can by no means speak with the same unqualified approbation. This philosophical tendency, however, requires great accuracy of discrim- ination, and much logical force, to render its results at all valuable. Without these, it is apt to deprive us of facts of the utmost moment, and give us instead of them, only barren and useless generalizations; an objection to which in our view, much of our author~ s reasoning lies open. The fact however, that Dr. Deweys work has been so generally known to our readers, and his liter- ary and philosophical merit so gen- erally and highly appreciated, may serve as an apology if we confine our remarks, to a consideration of it in the aspect to which its con- troversial character naturally in- vites us. The two opening chapters of the volume, one upon The Unitarian Belief, and the other upon The nature of Religious Belief, present to us a question of some interest, in which our author stands at issue with Prof. Stuart. In his review of Mrs. Danas recent work, the last named gentleman has dropped some very significant expressions, with reference to the use of orthodox terms in some portion of the work before us, alledging that in using the the words Atonement, Regenera- tion, Depravity, & c., to express the religious belief of Unitarians, em- ploying at the same time an en- tirely new set of definitions, Dr. D. has been guilty of a degrading ar- tifice, and one which merits the scorn of every upright man, & o. These remarks Dr. 1). quotes in a note, as a surprising comment upon his language and his motives; and replies in a style which, though not undignified, is exceedingly warm. The practice which Prof. S. thus severely reprehends, had been so frequent, and is so unjust to what we deem the truth, that though the topic is a most uninviting one, we feel constrained to point out the utter futility of the vindication which Dr. D. has attempted. He argues that he has nowhere professed to use these terms in the orthodox sense, but that throughout as every reader must see, a discrimination is studiously made between the ortho. dox and the liberal construction of them ;that even if used wit/tout any express qualification, the very position of the writer obviously qual- ifies them ; and finally that the terms in question are scriptural terms, to which one has as good a * Discourses and Reviews, upon ques. tions in Controversial Theology, and Practicat Retigion. By Orvitte Dewey, D.D., Pastor of the Church of the Messiah in New York. Deweys Controversial Writings. right as another. 1 had thought speech and Bible speech were com- mon property. Now as to using this language without any qualificauon, relying upon his position as a Unitarian to ensure a just interpretation of it, there is one obvious consideration which renders the plea inadmissible in the present instance, however valid it might he in some others. Dr. D. has himself declared that his position itself is entirely misunder- stood ;that there is a strange misconstruction of the opinions of himself and his party; so much so that it seems to be received as if it were a matter of common con- sent that we do nut hold to the doc- trines of the Bible and that we scarcely p etend to hold to the Bible itself. All this he asserts on the very first page of his book, and as- signs this wide and deep ignorance of his views, as the very reason of his 1jrofessed endeavor to tell what he understands the prevailing be- lief of Unitarians to be. To re- quire a community thus totally mis- informed as to What Unitarianism is, to interpret any language by a reference to that system, seems un- reasonable enough; but Dr. D. must have strangeiy forgotten himself to ask tbat the public would interpret by his general position, the very Ian- guag in which he professes jo de- fine that position. The logic cf this paragraph is obviously too loose to require any exposure, or to admit of any defense- But this is not his main vindica- cation; for that, he relies upon the fact that the language is properly qualified. Has our author then, we are led to ask, so guarded his state- ments as to forestall the answer of Prof. Stuart? The sufficiency of such disclaimers as he here pleads, must evidently depend very much upon the circumstances of the case. Before his own congregation, who must of course be entirely familiar with his views, the briefest explana tion alone would be requisite. Be- fore an assembly of divines the same disclaimer would, for the same rea- son, be ample. But in a popular discourse this brief and occasional qualification, of language used with the utmost frequency and in connec- tions which carry irresistibly to the public mind, ideas utterly repugnant to those of the speaker, would plainly be very far beiow what candor and manliness call for. Dr. Deweys explanations ~ve are constrained to consider precisely of this character; they are far from being so ample as to hold up distinctly and steadily the prominent ideas of his own system. A writer who aims to disabuse the public mind of a deep seated misapprehension, assumes a peculiar responsibility for his use of language. The surpassing importance too, of the themes on which Dr. Dewey has chosen to write, gives every reader a right to demand the utmost full- ness of explanation which can be requisite to a distinct apprehension of his meaninLr. The total inade- quacy of his explanations for this end, becomes apparent the moment we apply to his opponents, our au- thors vindication of himself. Lie protests strenuously against the ap- plication to his own party, of the somewhat harsh terms in which they are sometimes mentioned, tie ex- presses his astonishment at the bold and confidertt tone in which it is sometimes said ~ there is no religion among us ;and declares that no man has a right to charge them with having given up the Bible. The case between them stands thus: I believe, says the one, truly and firmly in the atonement, though cer- tainly not in the popular sense of that word. Very good, says the other, I call you an Infidel, though certainly not in the popular sense of that term. It would certainly re- quire some ingenuity to show that Dr. D.s vindication of himself is not equally good for his opponent. If his simple and occasional disclaimer 6s [Jan. 1848.1 Deweys Controversial Writings. 69 of the popular meaning, is a suffi- cient justification of his usage, it justifies also all that he so earnestly protests against, in the usage of others. If our author were to be assailed as an ungodly man, turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness, and denying the only Lord God and our Lord Jesus Christ, very slen- der justification would he deem it, to be told that all this was studiously declared to be not in the popular but the scriptural import of the language. And if such a vindication would he felt and declared to be a mere cover for theological rancor, in any oppo- nent who should solemnly declare that in that sense he most fully be- lieved it, how can it furnish any jus- tification for Dr. Deweys usage? Let any man describe the Unitarian as a man full of all subtlety, and mischief, unceasingly perverting the right ways of the Lord, and he would find that rio cautious state- ment that he used the terms not in the popular sense but in what he really deemed a more scriptural and just one, would exempt him from the charge of calumny. lie would be told that whoever uses such terms not in their popular meaning, has no right to use them in a popular discourse; and that none but a cov- ert and unworthy design could lead him to persist in it. As for the right of using com- mon property in this manner, Dc. Deweys concessions effectually neg- ative that. It needs no argument to prove that no one has a right to use any language which perpetually and necessarily misleads men; and that this use of scriptural language does so mislead, is beyond a question. Our author himself tells us that at first, Unitarians hesitated about the use of these terms, because they stood in the prevailing usage for orthodox doctrines. When to this admission, we add the repeated and most earnest assertions of all ortho- dox readers, that they themselves are constantly confounded by this language, it can not he doubted that it is felt to be on the part of all who employ it, a source of incessant mis- apprehension. Since then the lan- guage by their own admission con- veys to the popular ear only the idea of the orthodox doctrine, why per- sist in the use of it? Dr. D. has exposed the reason with a simpli- city which provokes some wonder. The body of the people, he says, page 5, not often hearing from our pulpits the contested words and phra- ses, * - hold themselves doubly warranted in charging us with a de- fection from the faith of Scripture. His use of scriptural language then, is not because it really conveys to those who hear it scriptural ideas; it is a mere theological artifice, em- ployed for a sectarian purpose. The question narrows itself at once then to this: Has any one the right to create constant misappre- hension, for the sake of avoiding unjust aspersions upon his character and his faith? Has any one the right to create erroneous impressions of his system, for the sake of giv- ing that system greater currency? To these questions an honorable mind can render but one answer. XVe say therefore, that Dr. D. has failed to make out any justification of his usage. Still it will no doubt he termed a hardship that the Unitarian should be shut out from the common heri- tage of Christendom, and forbidden to give utterance to his religious con- victions, in the consecrated words of tnspiration. One additional consid- eration will serve to show how un- founded even this impression is. If it is really a hardship to be com- pelled to abandon the scriptural mode of expression, how does it happen that on certain subjects the Unitarian so readily and cheerfully does abandon it. On the topic of eternal retribution, no Unitarian ev- er adopts the phraseology of the Bi- ble. Dr. D. himself takes occasion 70 Deweys Controversial VV~itings. [Jan. more than once, to explain and vin- dicate at large his views of this top- ic; and we have carefully examin- ed his language. He does indeed say that all the language of Scrip- ture on this solemn subject we have no hesitation about using : but he no where ventures to use in the ex- pression of his faith, any one of its decisive declarations. Nay, he ev- idently feels not the least disposition to employ a certain style of Scrip- ture language in defining his views upon it. This departure from bibli- cal usage he vindicates most satis- factorily, indeed, on the ground that popular ignorance has so fixed the meaning of this phraseology, that it is difficult to use it without constant explanation. Very true; but then why employ this kind of language on other subjects, in re- spect to which popular ignorance is equally profound? Why, when popular ignorance perpetually mis- understands this language, insist up- on a right of perpetuating the con- fusion? Is the consideration that Unitarianism might suffer somewhat in popular estimation, a grouud on which a generous mind can feel con- tent to abate a jot or tittle of its en- deavor to convey the most accurate conceptions of its faith? That it would suffer seriously from such an endeavor, we most certainly believe; but this conviction in the mind of one who receives that system as the sum of Christian truth, would betray a pitiable want of confidence in truth itself. We might pursue this subject farther, but it is by no means an agreeable one, and we gladly leave it. We have said enough to sustain the remark with which we conclude our discussion of it; that in pursu- ing a course which to say the least of it, is so questionable, Dr. D. must be indebted altogether more to the courtesy of his opponents, than to any well founded claims of his own, for his exemption from the unpleas- ant terms in which Prof. S. has char. acterized it. There is perhaps no one of the subjects mentioned in this volume which Dr. Dewey discusses with deeper interest than that of the Trin- ity. In a discourse uow first pre- sented to the public, on the theme that errors in theology have sprung from false principles of reasoning, his most important application of the principle is to this doctrine, and his remarks upon it disclose a sense of its importance, with which we most heartily sympathize. After a very earnest presentation of his objections to the orthodox view of it, he speaks thus : So powerful, so overwhelming, has ap- peared to me the argument against the Trinity, that for years I confess I have been looking for its effect upon the churches of England and America. I have sometimes invol- untarily saidIs it possible that what appears so clear to me, so un- answerable, can go for nothing with the minds of others? What are the men of England and America think- ing ? & c. We will not withhold the expression of our respect for the earnest spirit in which these remarks are conceived; nor can we help re- garding the frankness with which they are uttered, as highly honora- ble to their author; especially when contrasted with the resolute and un- candid disposition which we have found in some other quarters, to consider this a settled question. Probably every intelligent obser- ver of the progress of opinion has cherished similar anxieties ; has ~vaited, and watched, and longed, to see some token of the things which he felt assured must shortly come to pass. The advocate of free communion has looked with interest for the effect of the calm and re- sistless logic of Robert Hall; and he finds at length the whole Baptist community in England, pervaded with his sentiments to an extent he had scarcely hoped for. The Prot- estant has waited and prayed for the reaction which he knows must be at 1848.j Deweys Controversial Writings. 71 hand, against the forms and super- stitions with which Rome has sup- planted the Gospel; and he beholds all over the blood-sprinkled soil of Francein the realms of monarchs who gloried in the title of most Cathol icwherever, in short, the hand of power leaves any access to the millions it has so long and so jealously guarded against our ap- proach, almost in the Vatican itself, the unquestionable tokens of what he has so longed to see. The lover of religious freedom has anxiously listened for the response which all christendom is yet to make to the announcement of our separation of church and state; and he hears swelling from the glens of Scotland and the vales of Switzerland, the sound which confirms his faith in freedom. And amid all this uni- versal progress of truth, the Unita- rian too listens for the tokens which are to conv~y to him the grateful intellKence that he is no longer to be cut off from the sympathies of the universal church; but alas! no cheering voice brings him that con- solationover the broad earth he finds no sigr~ that he is not as isola- ted, and his views as widely reject- ed as they have ever been. What a melancholy position! Why will he not, we are tempted to ask, let it awaken for once, that wholesome distrust of his system, which alone can ever bring him into sympathy with the mass of Christian minds. The tone in which our author urges his views, is one which, while it is designed to be expressive of the strongest confidence, is by no means arrogant or offensive. Again and again he earnestly objects that our doctrine involves a palpable con- tradiction ; and argues that it is im- possible for any one, steadily and consistently, to maintain his faith in it. So distinct, says he, p. 343, are these persons of the Trinity in your idea of them, that no power of numan reason or imagination can make them one being. Lie main- tains repeatedly that even when wor- shiping Jesus, the Trinitarian does for the time drop all thought of any other being, and simply investing him with divine attributes, is, and his mind compels him to be, virtu- ally a Unitarian. The charge of inconsistency at this point, comes, in the present state of the Unitarian body, with a very ill grace from them ; and if we might for once assume to advise, we would counsel Dr. D. to abandon it. When we see their religious edifices designated by no significant names save those of the person and works of Christdedicated with all the solemnity their system of faith can supply, to Him as their Teacher, Redeemer, and Lordwhen we hear them venturing to offer no pe- tition to the paternal goodness which Christ has revealed, but it must be slavishly offered in His nameseek- ing no blessing of the Merciful Fa- ther, hut it must be entreated for His sakewhen we see them thus stand- ing before Christ with all that other men call religious homage, we smile at these charges of inconsistency between our faith and our worship. We bid the opponents who can at- tain to no higher views of Christ than these poor assaults upon the system which exalts him, take one lesson from the deep convictions to which they are evermore uncon- sciously giving utterance. We bid them listen to the sensibilities and affections which, in all that portion of the body that seems to us to have most of the spirit of piety, seem yet loyal to the truth as it is in Jesus and which proclaim amid all the negations of their theory, the indis- soluble connection between the pie- ty which these men cherish, and the doctrines they deplore. And here we doubt not is the se- cret, in part at least, of the phrase- ology which to the no small scandal of their system, Unitarian writers find themselves impelled to use, and yet unable to justify. They are nut 72 Deweys Controversial Writings. [Jan. exempt from the power of the an- cient faith. They were taught to bow the knee and lisp the prayer of infancy, to a Savior who died for them ;they have been surrounded ever since with the symbols of a faith which knows nothing save Jesus Christ and him crucified ;a history illustrious with examples of evangelical pietya literature rich with imperishable works of evangel- ical devotion, have environed and moulded them since they had a be- ing: till now as often as they bend in prayer or send up their song of praiseas often as they preach or hear the Gospel of the Redeemer, the name of Christ mingles itself with each solemn act, and as we be- hold their devotions we seem to hear the very voice of nature within them doing reverent homage to the grand object of Christian worship. In respect to the Trinity, Dr. Dew- ey makes his first issue upon a prin- ciple of interpretation. This he af- firms to be of such vital moment that it settles the whole question. He magnifies so highly the impor- tance of this principle, that one is a little amused when he comes to state it, to find it dwindling into the very familiar and harmless one, that the Bible is to be interpreted like other books. It is the principle that words are not to be taken by them- selves in the Bible ;that limitations and qualifications in their meaning must be admitted ;that the Scrip- tures are in this respect to be inter- preted like other books, & c., (page 62,) as though orthodoxy made war upon that! But let us test Dr. Deweys ad- herence to this principle, and try the strength of his cause upon his cho- sen ground. The infidel objects to the Unitarian believer in inspiration, that the Bible is utterly repugnant to the goodness of God, in teaching the everlasting punishment of the wicked. How does he repel the charge? Why, he maintains that the word everlasting is capable of a different meaning. Very true, says the former, but what is there to show that it is entitled in this place to the construction you propose? Why is it not to be allowed its full import? especially as in a connection imme- diately adjacent, and precisely sim- ilar, it denotes by general consent the absolutely endless blessedness of the just? rfo this question Dr. D. may be challenged to frame any re- ply, which does not assume the in- spiration of the sacred volume, and make it the ground of a claim that the Scripture is not to be so inter- preted as to conflict with the divine character. Again; suppose it main- tained that Christ as a mere cunning impostor claimed a divine and pre- existent nature; and his own words, the glory which I had with thee before the world was, alledged in support of the charge. Now noth- ing is more common than similar attempts to awaken superstitious reverence. If such an expression were found to have been used by any other professed prophet, it would beyond all question receive pre- cisely this interpretation. How then does the Unitaria@ escape this conclusion in the present instance? He assumes that the inspiration of the Scriptures furnishes ground for an interpretation of them different from that of other and similar rec- ords. In the argument with those who admit inspiration, he finds no difficulty. He says evermore, Such a construction is inadmissible be- cause it is absurd ; but of this in- spiration, his own scheme, we most seriously believe, can furnish no proof whatever. His vaunted prin- ciple sweeps away the very ground beneath his feet. When we find the Apostle prefa- cing his affecting biography of the Master who loved him, with the mys- terious announcement that the Logos existed in the beginning with God, and was Godattributing in lan- guage most deliberate and peculiar, each mighty work of creation to his 1848.] Deweys Controversial Writings. 73 powerand then proceeding, in terms which defy all other applica- tion, to identify this divine agent with the Savior whose glory they had themselves beheld, we interpret all this as the designed announce- ment of a truth most sublime. XVe do this, not because the Bible is to be interpreted differently from other hooks, but because if we found such an account in the Vedas, or the sa- cred books of any people, we should feel constrained by every la~v of lan- guage to do the same there. And so would Dr. Dewey: so does he in- terpret each similar account in the religious literature of every nation under heaven. There, he pronoun- ces it all the mere superstition of a barbarous age; but it never occurs to him, or to any one, to deny that it was originally designed and re- ceived as a statement of literal truth. Let our readers judge then whether it is on his part or on ours, that the Bible is interpreted with all the lim- itations which the common judgment of mankind imposes, on the early records of the religious history of our race. The confidence with which Dr. Dewey asserts the impossibility of conceiving of the persons of the Trinity as any other than three be- ings, apart from the question of its truth, is far from being justified by the amount of argument he has al- ledged in support of it. When he so earnestly asserts that the dog- ma of the Trinity destroys every kind of unity which can be con- ceived of in an intelligent being, (page 344,) we naturally look for some analysis of the nature of be- ingsome argument to show in what its unity consists. But beyond the mere assertion, that when we speak of unity in a being we mean that he is self-conscious, there is not the least attempt at such ana!ysis. He no where aims to show what the elements of our idea of being are. Now it is precisely upon such an analysis that the common orthodox VOL. VI. 10 theory of the doctrine is founded. Trinitarians generally consider the idea of a being to include two great elementsthe substance and its pro- perties. These elements belong ne- cessarily to our idea of each existing thing; it is a substance possessing certain properties. In the instance of a material substance, these are the properties of solidity, extension, form, color, & c.; in the case of a spiritual being, they are the various faculties of thought, emotion, will, & c. The common theory of the Trinity is, that in the Divine Being there is a multiplication of these at- tributes ;there are three several faculties of action and of conscious- ness, which all inhere similarly in the same common substance. To each of these classes of attributes, the name person is given. It will be at once perceived, that if this idea of the nature of being is cor- rect, it affords a ready reply to all the oft repeated assertions, that we can not conceive of distinct persons without subverting the Divine Unity. We point at once to the grand ele- ment of all being, lying simple and undivided, at the basis of our con- ception, and say that while there is no distinction there, there is no force in this charge. The word being de- notes a complex idea, and until there is a triplication of each of the elements which compose it, there is no triplication of the idea itself. Such a triplication every Trinitarian disclaims; and while it is disclaim- ed, we must consider the charge that tritheism is essentially involved in their doctrine, one which a careful analysis not only refuses to support, but distinctly contradicts. Dr. D. seems to imply (for as we have said he attempts no formal anal- ysis) that consciousness and certain other faculties constitute our whole idea of a being. On this assump- tion, he argues that the duplication of these faculties amounts to a du- plication of the being. But if the idea of being includes another es 74 Deweys Controversial Writings. [Jan. sential element, then evidently no mere multiplication of conscious- ness, will, & c. involves the multipli- cation of that idea. Our author im- plies that consciousness and moral faculties are the sole elements of our conception of a being; a posi- tion to which we at once take the exception, that it assumes all that is decisive in the argument. Ortho- doxy holds that there is another ele- ment, fundamental to that concep- tion, on the strict unity of which, its assertion of the unity of a Tn-per- sonal God is fbunded. Dr. Dewey can not but perceive, as we thus state the question between him and the orthodox, how entirely his dis- cussions fall short of reaching the grounds on which they rest ; and how necessarily, in consequence, his conclusions must fail to command their acquiescence. Dr. Deweys argu meat proceeds on the supposition, conceded by some Trinitanians, that the unity of the Godhead necessarily implies an absolute identity of attributes in the persons of the Trinity; and all the strength of his argument depends on this hypothesis and concession. But the common theory contained in these memorable words of the old Confessions the same in sub. stanceequal in power and glory is certainly entitled, if not refuted, to be considered a triumphant de- fense of the doctrine of the Trinity against the charge of inconsistency. The objection is, that distinct wills, consciousnesses, & c., in the persons of the Trinity, would render the doc- trine inconsistent with the unity of God. What then, we ask, is the unity of which the orthodox view admits. We say nothing of unity of design, though it must be evident that the har- mony of counsel a ad purpose between persons so intimately related must far surpass any which can be deemed to characterize the counsels of beings substantially distinct; the scheme im- plies an absolute philosophical unity. The persons are really one being, by virtue of the unity of their sub- stance. The conception of sub- stance is one of the most important of all our necessary ideas: the charge of ~ theoretical tnitheism agaInst a scheme which lays so broad and palpable a ground fbi ab- solute uaity of nature, we can only say, surprises us. But a candid estimate of our the- ory must concede to it a higher unity than this. Conscious unity is (be- sides the substantial unity of which we have just 51)okea) lie only other unity of which we can conceive. Now to this it is essential that the mind should know itself as distinct from every other; should feel that in the conscious experience of c a- other, it has no participation. It is on this uround that our conception a of our own individuality is so vivid. We have no participation of the ex- perience of others, and we know that their experience stands in no connection with ourselves. Now supposing such a personal distinc- tion as we advocate, to exist in the divine mind, it is obvious that there could not co~xist with it, any such consciousness of individuality as would convey the idea of three sep- arate beings. Each must be aware of the thoughts and acts of the others as sustaining a close relation to him- self. Each must conceive of the faculties of another as sustaining to the common substance, the same in- timate relation as his own. There may be therefore a conscious unity of a very high kind, based upon con- sciousness of identity in the sub- stance of their being, and conscious participation of each others experi- ence. The capacity of separate ac- tion is the only element, in which such persons would not absolutely blend into identity. Now certainly, it is not to be claimed that the idea of unity which consciousness gives us, is the only possible one. There may be a real unity which yet, does not imply pre- cisely the same elements as ourS. 1848.] Deweys Controversial Writings. 75 The grounds of moral agency, and of personal identity, may vary some- what in beings of different natures; reason may be in other orders of beings, as certainly as it is in God, materially different from what it is in man. Why then may not the unity of the divine nature vary with- in certain moderate limits, just as the intelligence of that nature does, from ours? Evidently persons who are thus the same in substance, conscious of that identity and on the ground of it conscious to an extent which may be very great, of the ex- perience of each other, are not sim- ple and separate beings; are one in their inward natureone in their outward development, and possibly one in their conscious knowledge. Such a unity falls but little short of the highest conceivable. The possibility of this theory, no Unitarian has made any strenuous effort to disprove. We find no care- ful discussion of it by any oneof them. Channing, Ware, Sparks, Dr. Dewey himself, which of them devotes a solitary page to the examination of it ? Prof. Norton, whose work is generally deemed a comprehen- sive and complete summary (and certainly it professes to be so) of the different forms which the mod- ern doctrine has been made to as- sume, does not even mention that it is held by any class of his oppo- nents. If we are wrong in these remarks, we shall cheerfully submit to correction. If there is any Uni- tarian discussion of this theory, we be~ to have it pointed out. XVe would not affirm that there is no al- lusion in the writings of the men we have mentioned, to the distinction of substance and attribute as connected with this doctrine; but that they have made no extended and explicit attempt to overthrow the theory, is evident from their own language on the subject. Dr. Ware, in his most recent work, says that none have pretended to explain or to under- stand what is meant by a person as distinguished from a being, or where- in any number of separate persons differ from the same number of sep- arate beings.* No one who com- pares this statement with the very palpable distinction we have made between the terms mentioned, can fail to see that it must have been made in absolute oversight of our theory. The call for a Unitarian analysis of this sub ect has been long and earnesily made. it is in itself; too, a most reasonable demand, that ~vri- ters who are perpettially asserting that the statements of others are in- consistent with the unity of God, should tell us in the way of exten- ded argument in what the unity of being consists. To an argument upon that subject, Unitarianism has never committed itself; perhaps we may provoke them to that good work, if we add that we have little expec- tation that it ~vill ; though till it does, Dr. D. has small reason to wonder at the perversity with which the men of England and America turn a deaf ear to the charmings of its advocates. We have dwelt so long upon these topics that we are constrained to pass over entirely some ~vh cli we should be glad to notice in more fa- vorable terms; Dr. Deweys exhi- bition of the doctrines of depravity, and of conversion, require particular notice. his account of the first of these subjects is prejudiced throughout by a serious errot. He maintains that our view of it includes the dogma that there is no natural freedom in the human mind to do good that Calvinists believe that men have lost the power of recovery, all vol- untary moral powet to be good and pure. lie represents the evangel- ical theology as teaching, and stands aghast at the astounding paralyzing contradiction; that we are ~omman- ded, on pain of Gods eternal dis- Wares Inquiry concerning Religion, vot. ii, p. 146 76 Deweys Controversial TVritings. [Jan. pleasure, to do that which we have no power to do,& c. & c., p. 361. Now Dr. I). ought certainly to know that among those who uphold the doctrine of the entire depravity of man, are some, not to say many, who regard with the deepest disap- probation the dogma he thus undis- criminatingly imputes; men who have grown gray in protesting with all the emphasis of langua ge, against confounding this with the evangeli- cal system ; men who have pursued the error which he here seems to charge upon them, through every possible evasion; and who have re- ceived for their earnest toil an abundant and thankless req nitaL Nay, the honor of that improvement in the popular theology has been already won. Aiming to identify this repulsive tenet with the doctrine of depravity, he argues that the two are most in- tirnately connectedthat if a man is totally depraved he can have no freedom to be goodif he has no freedom to he good he is indeed to- tally depraved.p. 359. We crave the indulgence of our orthodox rea- ders for detaining them with even the briefest reply to this charge. What possible depravity can exist in a mind which has really no free- dom to be good ? Such a man is no more depraved than the animal creationhas no more obligation or responsibility than a maniac. What sin can he be justly charged with, who can do no better than he dues? On the other hand, nothing would be easier, ~vere we in the humor for such trifling, than to show that Dr. Dewey has himself taught a philos- ophy utterly at variance with moral freedom. Virtue is in his system as truly necessary as sin can be in any other. For the mind, on his view of it, necessarily forms the idea of moral rectitude, and the idea he tells us implies the previous exist- ence of the feeling of rectitude and this feeling of rectitude he es- teems virtuous, he says it is right. Every man therefore is by the most stringent necessity virtuous in some a - degree; though what species of rec- titude that is, which exists in the mind antecedently to the very idea of rectitude, Dr. D. is per- haps safe in not attempting to specify. In quite a kindred strain he pro- ceeds in his review of Wardlaw, (an author whose teachings some Calvinistic writers have earnestly repudiated, but whom, nevertheless, Dr. D. chooses to consider the ex- ponent of Calvinistic opinions,) to deny to Calvinism any genial or kindly tendencies. What sort of practical ethics, he asks, would follow from this system ? Then picturing our world as a depraved and doomed one, he inquires, (p. 387,) Under the dread shadow of this system, what can remain to its consistent votary? What can be his ties to society at large? can he have friendship? can he wish for intercourse with unregenerate men, bad men, utterly bad men ? Why should he? What is there in them to love? If he must be connected with them by business or kindred, yet what are these circumstances compared with the great ties of moral relationship? And the mor- al relationship on the part of the re- generate can be nothing but that of superiority, and pity, and prayer; not of friendship. We pause in a ~vonder that deepens into amaze- ment at the hardihood of this most grievous charge. Firmly believing all that is here charged as so odious and repulsive in the orthodox faith, we have had occasion to utter many a mournful assertion of human sin- fulness, but such a statement as this, never. Many a denial have we felt constrained to frame of the natural holiness of the human heart; but the natural sympathies and affections which bind man to man, we never had the heart to deny to any thing that breathes. Often have we felt constrained to question the reality 1848.] Deweys Controversial TVritings. 77 of much that passes for religion among the class whom Dr. Dewey represents; but that they were, or must he, insensible to each warm and genial impulsethat in propor- tion as they drink in the spirit of their faith they must become dead to each lovely sentiment that adorns human nature, recreant to each ob- ligation that binds to love, to confi- dence, to gratitude, among men; lost to all that is honorable and generous beyond their own narrow pale ;absolutel y incapable of all affection and even of all friend- shipthe most cold hearted be- liever in our dark and cheerless creed never sticrmatized his kind b with an accusation like this! And why has Dr. Dewey put it forth? Has inspiration taught him to paint this repulsive picture of all who cor- dially imbue their minds with the great truth he thus scoffs at? He will not pretend it. Is he constrain- ed by that conviction of its absolute necessity to human salvation, which alone calls forth the believers mel- ancholy and reluctant statements? No; there is no such necessity up- on him. Is it in the heat of debate that he has given utterance to these cutting and bitter words? No; it is from the calm solitude of his study, and with the nicest touches of his art upon them, that he sends them forth, upon a cool calculation of the advantage they may bring to the interests of the party for which he pleads. And what has Calvinism done that it should be deemed the fit ob- ject of these reproaches? Let the inquiry be understood, for it is not the Calvinism of election and the saints perseverance that he here at- tacks, but that which maintains the entire depravity of mankind and the endless retributions of eternity; what we say has this system done, that of all the superstitions which have dis- graced humanity, this should be sin- gled out for the very palm of infa- my? One would think that its his- tory must be written in bile and bloodthat it is some malignant system, breathing pestilence ~vhith- ersoever it comesone before which all the elements of human happiness wither and dieone whose adhe- rents have testified no kind attach- ments, manifested no glowing zeal for the good of their race, and borne no share in the sufferings and achievements to which liberty and civilization and religion have been indebted. Dr. D. himself asks the question, What has Calvinism done ? Into what literature has it ever breathed its spirit? What poem has it ever written, but Pol- locks Course of Time? What phi- losophy but Dr. Wardlaws? into what reveries of genius but those of Bunyan has it ever breathed its soul ~ We will tell Dr. Dewey. What lit- erature ? The noblest religious lit- erature which the earth contains works of devotion, more than we can name, ~vhich shall be cherished while the earth stands. What po- etry ? The whole religious poetry of the language bears the impress, and far the larger part of it the names of the men who receive this detested scheme. What phi loso- phy? All Christian philosophy in the language which is worthy the nameworks of philosophical the- ology which from Calvins days to those of Dwight and Chalmers, have taken rank at the head of the phi- losophical thinking of Christendom- works which with all their imperfec- tions will hold that rank, till others from the same source shall surpass them. But such as these are not its high- est exploits. It is to moral achieve- ments that it owes its chief renown. It has inspired a heroic endurance which challenges everlasting remem- brance. Heaven seems to have found no sterner, truer band, to whom to entrust the post of danger and of glory. Laud and Graham of Claverhouse, Mary and the Ninth 78 Deweys Controversial Writings. [Jan. Charles and Alva, whose are the sufferings and the heroism which these names recall? This western shore, for religious freedom and re- ligious power, the glory of all lands, to whose indomitable love of free- dom and of truth does it owe the glorious career it is but beginning to run? To whose faith did appro- ving heaven vouchsafe that subli- mest conception of their age, here through all toil to hew out of the wilderness the future home of civili- zation, hither through all peril, to bear the seeds of liberty and piety for all the generations? And in our own day, whose char- ity that never faileth, is bearing abroad the everlasting Gospel ? Whose love is it that has consented to share each privation, each hard- ship, each peril under which nature can subsist? Whose noble con- tempt of danger has braved and ta- med the cannibal ferocity of savage tribes, confronted the capricious tyr- anny of Indian despots, and pene- trated through sands and snows, where the foot of civilized man had never trod, in the heavenly purpose to seek and to save that which was lost ? What system is that which leaning on the very arm of the Al- mighty, has made its way into every haunt of heathenism, and reared, all unconscious of the glory which was gathering over it, in all lands which encompass the earth, monuments of its attachment to the human soul, to the truth, to the kingdom of God? Let it not be said that these men whose deeds have shed a new lus- ter upon the Gospel itself, are not the consistent votaries~~ of Calvin- ism. Naught else under heaven than these views of the utter de- pravity and hopelessness of mankind, ever nerved the fortitude of manly piety and the tenderness of womans love, for this work of love. We might retort this inquiry. We might ask what are the deeds of Unitarian benevolence, that it should feel entitled to take us thus to task; but we forbear. Trophies like these need no contrast to heighten them, and we spare Dr. De~vey the humil- iation of a reply to any inquiry for the achievements of Uiiitarian hero- ism and devotion. These are the worksand human history records none noblerinto ~vhich our system has breathed its spirit ; we bid Dr. D. look at them, as the wide world is learning to do, and blush to remember, what we feel ~vith pride we can afford to forget, that he has suffered himself invidiously to ask what Calvinism has done in the earth, and what are the ties which bind the Calvinist to his race? With our authors views of de- pravity, his idea of conversion main- tains a melancholy consistency. lie not only doubts the reality, but he denies the possibility, of any sudden change in the essentials of charac- ter. He admits indeed that reli- gion has a beginning, and that there are great epochs of improvement which mark its progress; but the possibility of any thing like a den and radical change (if charac- ter, such as the current theolo~y in- sists upon, he utterly denies. No change of the inward mind and character can be sudden. The ve- ry laws of the mind forbid it. Let us test this alledged impossibility. A company of profane and in- temperate men, hardened by years of dissipation against all healthftil influence from without, are led by some unusual course of their own thoughts, to forswear for all coming life the base appetite which has en- slaved them ; and go from their ac- customed haunt of vice, never again to gratify by one moments indul- gence, what has hitherto been the ruling passion of life. rphe spend- thrift whose debaucheries have at length exhausted his estate, sits in unwonted thoughtfulness for hours, and rises from his meditations, strong in purposes which control and sup- plant each previous impulse of his being. On the very lowest account 184Sj Deweys Controversial Writings. 79 of f cts like these, we must see in them, an absolute and sudden victo- ry over some of the strongest im- pulses which form the character; and even supposing them to be but changes from the control of one sin or passion to that of another, yet if impulses erroneous and false, can so subdue and change the habits and passions of all previous life, what may not be hoped for from truth and wisdom, in the hands of omnipo- tence and love? Why then is it to be deemed a thins impossible, that grace from on high should suddenly work even a rudical and entire change of character? But the rashness of this assertion rises even to recklessness, when we compare it with the unquestionable facts of the Gospel history. What was Pauls conversion but a most sudden change of the inward mind and character ? Or will it be maintained that the Apostle was inwardly the same persecuting bigot after that event that he was before? And who needs to be re- m~ndcd that Christianity has achiev- ed similar triu rap hs in every year of its existence since ? XVho that has read the narrative of a conversion like that of Col. Gardiner, or the early history of Methodism, or the religious history of our own coun- try, needs any argument for the pos- sibility of radical and sudden chan- ges of character? Erroneous how- ever as the postion is that we are controverting, one truth it may well be supposed to convey to us. Dr. P. could never have maintained the impossibility of such results, had he ever witnessed them. Had he ever known in his familiar ministrations, the sensual and profligate mind sud- denly arrested, subdued, purified by the doctrine which it was his work to unfoldhad he seen the vain and thoughtless spirit, suddenly awed in- to a seriousness deep and perma- nenthad he ever beheld a man who delighted in expressing his pro- fane contempt for every ordinance of piety, in ensnaring youth and Se- ducing innocence, changed at once into a soul breathing only penitence and self-abasement, no sophistry could have blinded his mind to these signal attestations of the pow- er of his faith. Let him not then be surprised if the evangelical bo- dy should find in an argument like this, confirmation of all its previous ~onvictions of the inefliciency and ~vorthlessness of his system; and should on the strength of these con- cessions, pronounce it utterly alien from that gospel, which every age has proved to be the power of God unto salvation. The eligion which this work en- forces, and the skepticism which it repels, would amply repay exami- nation. They indicate, the one in theory, and the other in practice, de- fects of the most serious nature. All religious philosophy which is not absolutely perfect, has its oppo- site tendencies, its points of repul- sion as well as of attraction, and stands in relation to unbelief as well as to faith. The type therefore of unbelief against which any religious system contends, is often highly sig- nificant of the true character of that system. Thus the superstitions of th~ papal church are by almost all Protestant writers alledged to tend powerfully toward infidelity, and even atheism ; and Unitarians have not been slow to adduce similar re- sults from the errors of the ortho- dox faith. But the skepticism against which Dr. Dewey contends, is little else than the most cheerless and wretched negation even of immor- tality itself. Yet of this abandoned scheme he says, with a tenderness which contrasts strangely and sig- nificantly with his bitter reprobation of Calvinism, I do not wish to speak harshly. On the edge of this dismal abyss he assumes his po- sition, and courteously contends with this grim skeleton of unbelief; that God and immortality are realities; or at least if some doubts do neces- sarily mingle with our faith in them, doubting is ever a salutary process, 80 Deweys Controversial TVritings. [Jan. and meanwhile it is far more rea- sonable to believe than to deny. But defective as are his views of religious philosaphy, his exhibition of practical religion seems yet more so. He seems resolved on cutting off the soul from all those truths which yield it most effective influ- ence,from all those modes of ac- tion which afford it the most profita~ ble culture. Religion is in his view of it, wholly subjective ; it has no great and sublime relations to any out of the mind itself. Personal el- evation and dignity of no inferior kind indeed, still, merely personal, is all that he enforces with any ear- nestness. Do not be a bigot, or a hypocrite ; do not dwell in sottish- ness or vice; remember your im- mortal nature and do for heavens sake be something generousthis seems the whole burden of his ex- hortation. Without doubting the truth or the importance of this scheme of instruction, we must yet questiou whether all that human na- tare calls for, and all that the word of God supplies, will come within the compass of this. It is destitute of all the elements which are most powerful to move our moral nature. We can not barter for this the sys- tem which presents as the grand ob- jects of religious thought, the attri- butes, the character, the government of God. We can not barter for this, the boundless love and tenderness of our divine Redeemer, and the re- claiming and renewing grace of the Holy Onelove and grace which are able to subdue more of human sinfulness than Dr. D. is able to be- lieve in. Still less can we accept the teach- ing which declares, that brotherly love and hope and faith derive from the circumstances of the early age, a prominence and peculiarity which ought since to have passed away ; which instead of enforcing with all emphasis the earnest study of the heavenly word, tells us that this formal and forced perusal of ob- scure chapters with a sort of demure reverence tends to throw dullness and doubt and obscurity over all our conceptions of religion ; which discourages all personal religious effort as calculated only to distress and terrify men, and as planting in the mind the seeds of superstition which a whole life often is riot suffi- cient to eradicate ; and which quotes only to stigmatize as odious and offensive freedoms of speech, the simple and modest expressions in which affection terms the Savior dear and Christ precious. We offer no comment in terms of pious horror upon these pregnant and promising statements ; we utter no sepulchral toacs of awe and lamentation. They might check Dr. Dewey in the wholesome work to which he has put his hand; and we ~vould have him by all means carry it on. Let him show how many Christian affections he can re- pudiateupon how much of Chris. tian effort he can cast reproach upon how much of the language and the sentiment of the Bible he can pour contempt. It will he a salutary disclosure. When the popular mind shall come to understand, that Unita- rianism esteems brotherly love and hope and faith as obsolete, that system will be itself far on the way to the oblivion to which it is destined. Let it proclaim the idea that while the most abandoned of men only (!) make vice odious, parental faithfulness makes virtue so ; and it will instantly be spurned as an outrage upon all that binds the parent to his offspring. Let it pro- nounce all ardent personal attach- ment to Christ, fanciful and vision- ary, and the humble and scriptural expression of it, odious and offen- sive, and we can not for one mo- ment doubt, that when all this is fully tiaderstood, whatever piety may ex- ist among men, will pronounce its philosophy a melancholy delusion, and its Christianity a melancholy abandonment of all that is peculiar and all that is precious in the Gospel of our salvation. 1848.] Christian Comprehensiveness. 81 CHRISTIAN COMPREHENSIVENESS. WE are not among those who re- t~ard the Christian sects as equiva- taut to so many schisms. Neither is it necessary, in our view, to the unity of the church, th~ t it should be poiitically one ; indeed the polity of the An~1ican establishment and that of the American Episcopal church are as truly separate, one from the other, as the latter from the Congregational polity. As little is it necessa iv to the unity of Christs body, that the several polities should be similar to each other; for here again it can be shown, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the polity of the Anglican establishment is less resembled, as regards all practical purposes, to that of the American Episcopal church, than the latter to the Congregational. So if we speak of brotherly love or the unity of the Spirit, it is clear that distinct and dissimilar forms of polity work no necessary detriment. How ofken indeed is it proved that proximity exasperates disagreements, and that men will only hate each other the more cordially, the closer the bond which unites them. Doubtless there is such a thing as schism, divisions that are wrought by evil passions, therefore dishonorable, hurtful and criminal; and such is the weakness of our nature that there are doubt- less vestiges of schism, in all Chris- tian bodies. Still it is our privilege, on the whole, and being our privi- lege, our duty, to regard the Chris- tian sects, not as divisions, but as distributions rather; for it is one of the highest problems of divine gov- ernment in the church, as in all oth- er forms of society, how to effect the most complete and happy distri- butionsuch a distribution as will meet all wants and conditions, con- tent the longings, pacify the diver- sities and edify the common growth of all. Thus it may be said that VOL. NJ. 11 the present distribution of the church, abating what is due to causes that are criminal, makes it more com- pletely one; just as an army, set off into companies and battalions, some trained to serve as infantry and some as horse, some with artillery and some with the rifle, undergoing each a form of exercise and disci- pline peculiar to itself, becomes thereby not several ~nd distinct ar- mtes, but because of the orderly dis- tribution made, a more complete and perfect wholein the field, an engine of greater power, because it unites so many forms of action and bears so many sorts of armor. At the same time, it is not to be denied that this manifold distribution of the church has its propriety, in causes and events that imply a crude state, or a state of only partial de- velopment. Therefore, while we do not regret the distribution, or proclaim it as the public shame of religion, we may well desire a riper state, in which the Christian body shall coalesce more perfectly and draw itself towards a more compre- hensive and catholic polity. The work of distribution and redistribu- tion has already gone far enough, as most Christians appear to sup- pose. We see, indeed, that unity is rising, now, as a new ideal upon the Christian world. They pray for a closer fellowship; they flock together from the ends of the world to consult for unity. A prop- er and true catholic church is be- fore the mind, as an object of long- ing and secret hope as never before it is named in distant places, and by men who have had no concert, save through the Spirit of God and the spirit of the age. And if these are signs of capacity for a more catholic state, it may also~be seen, in the few persons rising up here and there to speak of a more com

1848.] Christian Comprehensiveness. 81 CHRISTIAN COMPREHENSIVENESS. WE are not among those who re- t~ard the Christian sects as equiva- taut to so many schisms. Neither is it necessary, in our view, to the unity of the church, th~ t it should be poiitically one ; indeed the polity of the An~1ican establishment and that of the American Episcopal church are as truly separate, one from the other, as the latter from the Congregational polity. As little is it necessa iv to the unity of Christs body, that the several polities should be similar to each other; for here again it can be shown, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the polity of the Anglican establishment is less resembled, as regards all practical purposes, to that of the American Episcopal church, than the latter to the Congregational. So if we speak of brotherly love or the unity of the Spirit, it is clear that distinct and dissimilar forms of polity work no necessary detriment. How ofken indeed is it proved that proximity exasperates disagreements, and that men will only hate each other the more cordially, the closer the bond which unites them. Doubtless there is such a thing as schism, divisions that are wrought by evil passions, therefore dishonorable, hurtful and criminal; and such is the weakness of our nature that there are doubt- less vestiges of schism, in all Chris- tian bodies. Still it is our privilege, on the whole, and being our privi- lege, our duty, to regard the Chris- tian sects, not as divisions, but as distributions rather; for it is one of the highest problems of divine gov- ernment in the church, as in all oth- er forms of society, how to effect the most complete and happy distri- butionsuch a distribution as will meet all wants and conditions, con- tent the longings, pacify the diver- sities and edify the common growth of all. Thus it may be said that VOL. NJ. 11 the present distribution of the church, abating what is due to causes that are criminal, makes it more com- pletely one; just as an army, set off into companies and battalions, some trained to serve as infantry and some as horse, some with artillery and some with the rifle, undergoing each a form of exercise and disci- pline peculiar to itself, becomes thereby not several ~nd distinct ar- mtes, but because of the orderly dis- tribution made, a more complete and perfect wholein the field, an engine of greater power, because it unites so many forms of action and bears so many sorts of armor. At the same time, it is not to be denied that this manifold distribution of the church has its propriety, in causes and events that imply a crude state, or a state of only partial de- velopment. Therefore, while we do not regret the distribution, or proclaim it as the public shame of religion, we may well desire a riper state, in which the Christian body shall coalesce more perfectly and draw itself towards a more compre- hensive and catholic polity. The work of distribution and redistribu- tion has already gone far enough, as most Christians appear to sup- pose. We see, indeed, that unity is rising, now, as a new ideal upon the Christian world. They pray for a closer fellowship; they flock together from the ends of the world to consult for unity. A prop- er and true catholic church is be- fore the mind, as an object of long- ing and secret hope as never before it is named in distant places, and by men who have had no concert, save through the Spirit of God and the spirit of the age. And if these are signs of capacity for a more catholic state, it may also~be seen, in the few persons rising up here and there to speak of a more com 82 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. prehensive faith, or to handle ques- tions of polity and doctrine in a more comprehensive spirit, that there are powers coming into the field, which possibly God has train- ed for the preparation of a new catholic age. Probably never until now has the world been ready to conceive the true idea of a com- prehensive Christianity. Nor is it ready now, save in part. The idea itself is yet in its twilight, dimly seen, only by a fewby none save those who are up to watch for the morning. Our object, in this article, is to say what we are able of a subject formerly so remote from the world. XVe confess that, in our own appre- hension, we seem rather to stammer than to speak plainly. Still, as it is by stammering that ~ve learn to speak, we go to our rudimental ef- fort suffering no pride to detain us. What we mean by comprehen- stveness,.or a comprehensive Chris. tianity, may be illustrated, in part, from the manner and teachings of Christ himself, who is the Lord of Christianity. In nothing did Christ prove his superhuman quality more convincingly, than by the conipre- hensiveness of his spirit and his doctrine. He held his equilibrium, flew into no eccentricitics~ saved what was valuable in what ~.he de- stroyed, destroyed nothing; where it was desirable rather to fulfil than to destroy. It is the com- mon infirmity of mere human re- formers that, when the yriseup to cast out an error, it is generally not till they have kindled their passions against it. If they begin with rea- son, they are commonly moved, in the last degree, by their animosities instead of reason. And, as animos- ities are blind, they, of course, see nothing to respect, nothing to spare, The question whether possibly there may not be some truth or good in the error assailed, which is needed to qualify and save the equilibrium of their own opposing truth, is not once entertained. Hence it is that men, in expelling one error, are per- petually thrusting themselves into another, as if unwilling, or unable to hold more than half the truth at once. And so if any advance be made, it is wrought out between battles and successive contraries, in which, as society is swayed from side to side, a kind of iriegular and desultory progress is maintained. Thus if any human reformer had risen up to assail the tithings, wash- ings and other tedious observances of the Pharisees, observances the more easy to regard as odious, be- cause the men themselves were odi- ousn sanctimonious race of op. pressors and hypocrites, who live by forming the public superstitions this human reformer would have said, away with you hypocrites, and away with your works. Let your tithings go, and, if you will do any thing right, come back to the weightier matters of judgment, mer- cy and faith. This Christ did not say. Detesting the cruelties and base hypocrisies of the sect, as he certainly did, he is yet able to see some benefit in their practices, some truth in their opinions. Therefore he says, These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other un- donecomprehending, at once, the exact and the free, the disciplinai-y and the useful, offerings to God and labors for mankind. And the most remarkable feature in his sermon on the mount is the fact that, while he perfectly transforms the old doc- trines and laws, he yet annihilates nothing. I came not to destroy, but to fulfillto bring spirit to form, extend the outward law to the in- ~vard thought, to fill out the terms of knowledge and the statutes of duty, but to suffer no jot or tittle of the law to perish. li is by this singu- lar comprehensiveness, in the spirit of Christ, that the grandeur of his life and doctrine is most of all con- spicuous. For by this it was that 1848j Christian Comprehensiveness. 83 he set himself in advance, most clearly, of his own and of all subse- quent times. With men, if they ever attain to any thing of a com- prehensive aim, it is only in what may he called the second age of the church or society, the historical and critical age. in the first age, they see truth; in the second they consid- er the seeings of others and their import. In the first age they re- gard the forms of truth as identical with truth itself; therefore they stand, every man, for his own form, having no choice hut to live or die by it, and no thought, perhaps, but to make others live or die by it too. But in the second age. opinions be- come a subject of comparison, their laws are inquired after, their forms become plastic and are seen melting into each other. Under contrary forms, are found common truths, and one form is seen to be the com- plement of anotherall forms, we may almost say, the complement of all others. But it was in no such philosophic and critical method that Christ attained to so great compre- hensiveness. He found it rather, in the native grandeur of his own spirit. Speaking not as a critic, but as a seer, his simple seeing placed him thousands of years in advance of us, under all the lights of history. We seem nov to be just beginning to spell out in syllables, and by a labo- rious criticism, that which Christ seized upon, as an original intui- tion. But we must entet, if possible, into the more interior merits of our subject. It was given out a few years ago, by the distinguished French philosopher, M. Cousin, that there are, in philosophy, three pos- sible schools of opinion, which must each have an era to itselfone that begins with the ideal, or absolute; a second that begins with the em- piric, or conditional; a third which seeks to adjust the relations of the two, producing an ideal-empiric, or, as he would call it, an eclectic school. Besides these three, he declares that it is even impossible to invent an- other. And the latter of the three he regards as the ripe school, one that will contain the last and fully matured results of philosophic in- quiry. Now as human life lies be- tween the infinite and the finite, as regards thought and the objects of thought, having contact in fact with both, there is certainly a show of truth in the theory offered. The history of opinions too may be made, without any great violence, to yield it a complexion of favor. Still it is easy to show in what manner other and more various oppositions may arise, and how they may be multi- plied almost without number. They are, in fact, so multiplied, both in philosophy and in religious doctrine. Having it, then, for our subject, in this article, to investigate, as far as we are able, the causes out of which religious oppositions arise, and to suggest the true remedy, let us, first of all , glance at the methods in which the Christian world fall into so many repugnant attitudes. Doubtless it is true, in part, ns M. Cousin suggests, that many of these repugnances are (lue to the fact that the material of thought is itself di- vided bet~veen ~vhat is absolute or ideal, and what is actual or empiri- cal; so that a mind, viewing any subject partially, that is from one pole, is likely to conflict with one viewing it from the other, and both with one who endeavors to view it from both poles at once. But there are divisions, or repug- nances, that are due as much to the ~ncompreliensibiiity of the matter of thought, as to the twofold aature of its contents. The matter of thought is infinite in quantity, as well as ideal or empirical in quality. Lience it results that, as the minds of men are finite, they can only pull at the hem of the garment, and must there- fore be expected to pull in different ways, accordingly as they fall upon the hem on one side or on the other. 84 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. For as the garment is, to each, noth- ing hut the hem, in that part where he has hold of it, he is likely to make up his sect or school according to the view he has. But after long ages of debate, wherein every part of the hem is brought into view, then it is possible, certainly, for any disciple, who will look through the eyes of all, to form to himself some view of it, that is broader and more com prehensive. Then again there are reasons for the rise of repugnant views, in thought and religious doctrine, which lie in what may be called the con- tents of persons. For it is not mere- ly the contents of thought, but quite as much the contents of the think- ers, that give birth to contrary opin- ions and sects. We speak here of personal temperament, or of nation- al temperament, working in the sub- ject; of that which history has pro- duced, or waits to have produced; of impulses, wants, all of which need as much to have their day and be tried, as the subject matter of thought itself. For example, the Pelagian doctrine of will, or selfsupporting virtue, and the Quaker doctrine of quietism, may arise, in no small de- gree, from varieties of personal tem- perament. And since temperament is as much a reality as thought it- self, what can ever display the man- ifold forms of a perfect and com- plete doctrine, unless temperament also is allowed to have its trial ? So also prelacy was produced by historic causes, that is, by impulses and sympathies historically prepa- red. So also of independency or equality. It was something in the convenience of political power, or private ambition, or Christian expe- rience, that produced these repug- nant methods of organization, and set them in conflict. And now, since they are both set before the mind, as exhibited on trial, it is pos- sible to decide, with greater confi- dence, on the method most conge- nial to the Christian schemeper- haps on a method that combines the excellences of both. There is yet one more source of repugnant and partial opinion, which is quite as fruitful as the others namely, language. No matter wheth- er we speak of philosophic doctrine, or of that which is derived from rev- elation, every opinion or truth must come into the world and make itself known, under the terms of language. And dIl the processes of ratiocina- tion, under which opinions are gen- erated, are processes that are con- tained within the laws of language. But lan~,uage can not convey any truth whole, or by a literal embodi- ment. it can only show it on one side, and by a figure. Hence a great many shadows, or figures, are necessary to represent every truth ; and hence, again, there will seem to be a kind of necessary conflict between the statements in which a truth is expressed. One statement will set forth a given truth or subject matter under one figure, and a second under another, and a third, possibly, under yet another. The doctrine of atonement, for ex- ample, is offered, in Scripture, un- der a urea t variety of figures, and a history of the doctrine, up to this moment, consists, in a great degree, of the theologic wars of these fig- ures, doing battle each for the su- premacy. For as soon as any fig- ure of truth is taken to be the truth itself, and set tip to govern all the reasons of the subject, by its own contents as a figure, argument itself settles into cant, and cant is enthro- ned as doctrine. For cant, in rigid definition, is the perpetual chanting, or canting of some phrase or figure, as the fixed equivalent of a truth. And as most men who speculate, both in philosophy and religion, are not fully aware of the power of words, or how, if they place a truth under one word in distinction from another, it will assuredly run them into dogmas that are only partially true; successive dogmas in theol 1848.1 Christian Comprehensiveness. 85 ogy or philosophy are perpetually coming upon the stage, and wear- ing themselves down into cant to diein which, though they resem- ble themselves to the swans, it is vet with a difference; for the swans only sing when they die, but these sing themselves to death. The nurn- ber of contrary theories that may be gathered round a given subject are limited, of course, only by the num- ber of figures adjacent to it. Instead, therefore, of the single cause for repugnant, or opposing theories, discovered by M. Cousin, we find as many as four classes of causes; one that lies in the twofold quality of the contents of thought; a second in the infinite quantity of the contents; a third in the contents of persons, including society and history; a fourth in the containing powers of language, as an instru- ment of thought and speculation. On the whole, it does not appear that the theory of M. Cousin is suffi- cient. It is less defective as rela- ting to questions of philosophy or philosophic systems, for which it ~vas specially intended, but it is de- fective even here ; for nothing is more certain than that the thoughts and speculations of men are shaped by causes which do not lie in the quality of the subject matter of thought. Far more extensively true is this in matters of theology or re- vealed religion, where so much de- pends on questions of fact or inter- pretationquestions that are not de- terminable by any philosophic or a priori method. Still the doctrine he advances that all questions of phi- losophy lie between two poles or ex- tremes, is one that has a vast and almost universal application. So also of his doctrine that, inasmuch as men are after truth and not after falsehood, it may generally be as- sumed that under all extremes ad- vanced there dwells a truth. And these will hold equally well in mat- ters of theology. Holding this view, it may seem to follow also, as asserted by M. Cousin, that there can arise, about any subject or question, only three schools of opinionthe schools of the extremes, and a third school, which undertakes to settle their re- lation, or comprehend them in a common view. And perhaps there can not in any legitimate way. Still it will be found, in historical fact, that men do not always proceed in a legitimate way. Other causes act upon them, which do not lie in the subject matter of inquiry. As we see them in actual controversy, they describe a history which may be well enough represented by the five stages or modes which follow. First comes up into the light one extreme and, with or without con- troversy, it is adopted. After awhile a second school, looking the domi- nant opinion or practice in the face, begins to see that there is something wrong or false in it, and rises up as an assailant, to assert the second ex- treme. Now comes the war be- tween extremes. The parties are certain, both, that they have the truth. They regard each other in their present half seeing state, as wholly repugnant and contrary. The war goes on, therefore, as a war hetween simple truth and false- hood, which no terms of peace can reconcile, arid which permits no is- sue but one of life or death. Prob- ably the new extreme will prevail, and the old subside into a secondary place. Meantime, there is likely to appear a neutral school, made up of those who are disposed to peace, and deprecate war, and who can not es- cape the feeling that there is some- thing extravagant or excessive, (as there certainly is,) in both the mili- tant schools. These are the moder- ate men who praise moderate things the wooden headed school, who dread nothing with so great reason as a combustion of any sort. Hence it is the real problem with them to divide distances, and settle them- 86 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. selves down as nearly midway be- tween the poles as possible. Some- times they are called in derision, men of the fence, but they call them- selves, and more correctly, neuters, that is, neithers; for the real study and problem of their school is nega- tive. It is not to find the truth as a positive form and law, but it is sim- ply to find a position halfway be- tween the two schools before them to be about as much and about as little one as the other. They are prudent, but not wise. They make a show of candor. without so much as a thought of the truth. But as men gro~v weary of controversy, and the passions that give zest to it for a time are seen to die out, and give place, at last, to a sense of dis- gust; as extremes held singly are seen moreover to bring a sense of defect and weariness by themselves, the neutrals are very likely to get their turn and become the reigning school. Th public are sickwhy must their ears be stunned by the perpetual din of controversy? So falling into the sick list of neutrality, one after another, the two schools of the extremes are gradually thinned away, and seem about to be forgot- ten. But for some reason it begins at length to be felt that there is a very peculiar insipidity in this neu- tral state. There is nothing suffi- ciently positive in it to ~vaken a re- sonant feeling in the soul. Plausi- bilities have taken the place of truths, and the diet is too thin to feed the blood. After spend ing thus a whole age or generation midway between somewhere and nowhere, or rather between two somewheres, they be- gin to feel that neutralities, after all, are more sickening than controver- sies, and they are willing, possibly, to go back and resume the old quar- rel of the extremes, if it is only for the health of the exercise. There is also what is sometimes called a liberal school, which differs widely from the neutral, as having aims of a more generous quality. For while the timorous neutral is engaged to settle his position mid- way between extremes, the liberal is extending an equal indulgence to both. r1~he former is moved by prudence to himself, the latter by charity to others. The virtue of one is moderation, that of the other tolerance. One lets go the truth to consult distances, the other admits that possibly we are all too distant from the truth and see it too dimly to be over positive concerning it. Now most of the arguments and mo- tives to liberality are of a reasonable and generous quality, and where the liberal spirit is connected with a rigid and earnest devotion to truth, it is a condition of health to itself and a mark of respect to others. But how easy is it to be indulgent to others, if first we are indifferent to the truth. Arid if liberality itself is made to be the virtue and hung up as the flag of a school, it is very sure to prove itself, ere long, to be anything but a virtue. Or if still it be called by that name, it will show itself to be the most unilluminated, most impotent and insipid of all virtues. Having no creed, in fact, save that other men shall be wel- come to theirsearnest in nothing save in vindicating the right of oth- ers to be earnest, counting it char- ity not to be anxious for the truth, but to be patient with all error, smil- ing indulgently upon all extremes, not caring how the truth may fare between themthe liberal school makes a virtue of negation, and freezes itself in the mild and gentle temperature it has mistaken for charity. The word liberal is in fact a negative word, there is noth- ing positive in it. And, as words are powerful, no body of men, how- ever earnest at the beginning, can lon~ rally under this word as a flag, without making it a sacrament of indifference, and subsiding, thus, in- to a state which involves a disre- spect to all the sacred rights of truth. But as life can not long be 1848] Christian Comprehensiveness. 87 endured where earnestness is lost, so the liberalist xviii begin, ere long, to feel that his supposed charity does not bless him. And now he xviii gird himselfagain for war, seize up- on some post and fortify it, and though it do not cover a half acre of ground, he xviii swear to die fighting for something, as better than posses. sing nothing. Having noxv the schools above named before us, first the schools of the extremes, xvith their wars ; then the neutral or the liberal school or bot.h, succeeding and bringing in an age of dearth that can not longer be supported ; we may see how a fifth school rises to complete the cycle and gather unto the truth, her own true catholic brotherhood. There rises up noxv a man, or a fexv men, xvho looking again at the txvo ex- treme schools, begin to ask xvhether it is not possible to comprehend themthat is to receive, hold, prac- tice all which made the extreme opinions true to their disciples? The very thought gives compass or en- largement to the soul in which it is conceived. It ascends, as it were, to a higher position, to look down upon the strifes of the race and use them as the material of its exercise, conveniencies to its oxvn final estab- lishment and victory. In this effort to comprehend extremes, it offers no disrespect, but the highest respect, rather, to the great and earnest spirits that have stood for the truth and fought her battles, giving them all credit for their courage and de- votion, and considering them, in fact, as the right and left xving of the field, xvhich it noxv remains to include in one and the same army. It is in fact a disciple of the ex- tremes, taking lessons of both, and ceasing not till it has gotten what- ever good and xvhatever truth made their opinions sacred to themselves. In the endeavor to comprehend ex- trernes, it comf)rehends also both the views of the neutral and the lib- eral schools. The neutral xvas sure that there was some extravagance, some defect of equilibrium in the extremes, and this he thought to re- store, by dividing distances and hold- ing neither. The comprehensive school restores it by holding both and bringing both to qualify and moderate each other. rfhe liberal saxv charity perishing in the earnest battle of the extremes, and required of itself a more indulgent spirit. The comprehensive school finds not only a defect of charity, but, what is more, a real ground for charity, in the fact that both extremes are only standing for the two poles of truth earnest because they have the truth, and only quarreling because they have not breadth enough to see that they are one. In the comprehen- sive school it xvill be a first convic- tion, that all serious, earnest men have something in their view which makes it truth to them ; therefore that all serious, earnest men, boxy- ever repugnant in their words, have yet some radical agreement ,andif the place can be found, xvill some- where reveal their brotherhood. Therefore they are not only to tol- erate, but to love and respect each other. Nay, they are each to ask, what has the other, xvhich is neces- sary to its own completeness in the truth? And thus the comprehen- sive school, finding its liberality in the higher pursuit of truth, will have it not as a negation and exercise it not as a sacrament of indifference. It will be moderate without pursu- ing moderation, liberal xvithout pur- suing liberality, both because it fol- loxvs after the truth, giving heed to all earnest voices, and bowing as a disciple to all her champions. It is not our design, in giving out this distribution of schools, to place them all upon an equal footing. The first two and the last, the two extreme, or partisan schools and the comprehensive school must appear in their orderthey constitute the necessary conditions of mental pro. gress in the truth, and truth can not 88 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan~ find a complete and full develop- ment without them. The other two, the neutral and the liberal, do ap- pear casually, or incidentally, and often hold an important figure in the real history of sects and opin- ions, and no sufficient view of the actual history of opinions can be given, without some reference to them. They may both be regard- ed, perhaps, as spurious modes of the comprehensive school, actuated by some dim and undiscovered sense of the fact that there is, doubtless, a higher, broader truth, which, if it were known, would reveal an aspect of extravagance in the partizan strifes of the world. In this view, they may be looked upon as rudi- mental efforts preparatory to the de- velopment of a true comprehen- siveness. And therefore the proper dignity of a comprehensive effort, guided by intelligent convictions and fixed laws of criticism, could not appear, without some notice of the contrast between it and them. Having it for our design, in this article, to recommend the compre- hensive spirit in religion, we arc tempted, first of all, to speak of it as related to character itself; for this is the radical interest of the subject, and the illustrations we may offer here will be familiar to all our read- ers, even to those who are unexer- cised in the higher abstractions of theology. The endeavor to comprehend all antagonisms and hold the just equi- librium of truth is the highest and most ingenuous that a human soul can proposeone that God only can perfectly realize. Yet whosoever has but conceived such a thought gives some evidence therein of a re- semblance to God, and he is, accord- ing to the measure of his success, a truly great character. A compre- hensive character is, in fact, the only really great character possible among men. And, being that which holds the fullest agreement and sym pathy with God, it is one, we arc persuaded, that is specially valued and cherished by Him. We shall find also, by inspection, that all the defective modes of character in Christian men are due to the fact that some partial, or partizan view of duty sways their demonstrations. Sometimes one extreme is held, sometimes the other, and accord ug- ly we shall see that, excepting cases where there is a fixed design to brave the laws of all duty, the blemished characters go in pairs. Thus one man abhors all preju- dice, testifies against it night and day, places all his guards on the side opposite, and, as prejudgments of some kind are the necessary con- dition of all judgments, it results, of course, that he falls into an error quite as hurtful and more weak, ceasing to have any fixed opinion, or to hold manfully any truth what- ever. Another, seeing no evil but in a change of opinion~, holds his opinions by his will and not by his understanding. And as no truth can penetrate the will, he becomes a stupid and obstinate bigotstand- ing for truth itself, as if it were no better than falsehood. There is a class of Christians, who specially abhor a scrupulous religion. It is uncomfortable, it wears a superstitious look, and therefore they are moved to assert their dignity by venturing out, occa- sionally, on acts or exhibitions that are plainly sinful. And then when they return to their duty (which they are quite certain finally to omit) they consent to obey God, not be- cause of the principle, but because of the importance of the occasion! In expelling all scruples, they have made an exile of their consciences. A man at the other extreme will have it for his religion to be exact in all the items of discipline, and will become so conscientious about mint, anise and cummin, that no conscience will be left for judgment, or mercy, or even for honesty. 1848.1 Christian Comprehensiveness. 89 Some persons are all for chL itv, meaning by the term a spirit of al- lowance towards the faults and crimes of others. Christ they say commands us not to judge; hut they do not observe that there are things which we can see without judging and which, as they display their own in- iquity, ought to be condemned in the severest terms of reprobation. Charity will cover a multitude of sinsnot all. The dearest and truest charity will uncover many. Opposite to such, we have a tribe of censorious Christians, who require us to be bold against sin, who put the harshest constructions on all con- duct, scorching and denouncing as surely as they speak. If they could not find some sin to denounce, they would begin to have a poor opinion of their own piety. These could not even understand the Savior, when he says, neither do I con- demn thee. Some Christian professors are so particularly pleased with a cheerful spirit, and so intent on being cheer- ful Christians themselves, that they even forget to be Christians at all. They are light enough, free enough, the longitude of face they so much dread is effectually displaced. In- deed the godly life, prayer, sobriety itself, are all too sombre for their kind of piety. Opposed to these we have an austere school, who ob- ject to all kinds of relaxation, and have even some scruples about smil- ing. A hearty laugh is an act of positive ungodliness. They love to see the Christian serious at all times. Their face is set as critically as the surveyors needle, or they carry it as nicely as they would carry a full vessel. But there is a certain meas- ure of sourness in all human bosoms, which if it can not be respited by smiles, becomes an active leaven. The face that was first serious changes to a vinegar aspect, and this reacts to sour the sourness of na- ture, till finally it will be found that the once amiable person has become VOL. VI. nervous, acrid, caustic and thorough- ly disagreeable. We have a class of disciples who appear to sum up all duty in self- examination. They spend their lives in examining and handling themselves. They examine them- selves till they are selfish, and cx- tin ~ cish all the evidences for which they look. They inspect and han- dle every affection till they have killed it, and become so critical, at length, that no feeling of the heart will dare venture out, lest it should not be able to stand scrutiny. An- other class have it for a maxim nev- er to doubt themselves. Let tis do our duty, they say, and God will take care of us. So they delve on, confident, presumptuous, ignorant of themselves, guarded against no infirmity. But they might about as well do nothing in the name of du- ty, as to go on with a spirit so ill regulated, and if they knew it, so very nearly wicked. There is a class of disciples who especially love prudence. It is the cardinal virtue. They dread, of course, all manifestations of feeling, which is the same as to say that they live in the absence of feeling; for our feelings are the welling up of the souls waters, the kindling of its fires, when no jealousy is awake to suppress them. If they are watch- ed, they retreat to their celljoy, love, hope, pity, feara silent, tim- orous brood, that dare not move. The prudential man becomes thus a man of ice, or, since the soul is borne up and away to God only on the wings of feeling, sinks into a state of dull negation. Then we have another class who detest the trammels of prudence, and are never in their element, save when they are rioting in emotion. But as the ca- pacity of feelin~, is limited, it comes to pass in a few days that what they had is wholly burnt to a cinder. Then, as they have a side of capa- city for bad feeling still left, new signs will begin to appear. As the 90 Christian Comprehensivenc~s. [Jan. raptures abate and the high symp- toms droop, a kind of despair begins to lower, a faint chiding also is heard, then a loud rail, then bitter deprecations and possibly impreca- tions too; charges are leveled at in- dividuals, arrows are shot at the mark, and the volcanic eructations thrown up at the sky are proofs vis- ible and audible of the fierce and devilish heat that rages within. This is fanaticism, a malicious piety, kindling its wrath by prayer and ho- ly rites. In these examples we have brought into view, extremes that are furnish- ed principally out of the contents of persons. How manifest is it that each of these extremes, embracing its opposite, would rest in a balanced equilibrium on the two poles of duty, and be itself the wiser and the holi- er, for that which is now its mischief and its overthrow. There are other classes of ex- tremes affecting the character, which are more speculative in their nature. XV hat endless war have we between the school of reason and the school of faith. But the truly enlarged disciple will somehow manage to comprehend both1 considering it to be the highest reason to believe, and the highest faith to reason. One man places virtue in action, another in feeling. Possibly it is in a moral standing of the soul, to which it as- cends between bothaction inspired by feeling, feeling realized by ac- tionthus in the moral liberty of the whole man. One class consider Christian piety to be a God ward and devotional habit. Another class are equally sure that God is pleased with us, when we do our duties to our fellow men. Thus we have pietism or quietism on one side, and philanthropy on the other. But the coml)rehensive word commands us to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly before Godto love God and through him love our brother, to love our brother and to see therein that we love God. Some are justified by faith, some by works. But as faith without works is dead, and works without faith are equally so, there are some who prefer to show their faith by their works, and quicken their works by faith, and thus to be alive in both. There is also a school of legalists, and a school of spiritualists. The former live without liberty, the latter with- out law. But the true Christian soul is free in the law; for it is the art of love to hold a soul under discipline, and beguile it still of all sense of constraint. Some resolve all duty into self.interest. Others are equally sure that all self.interest is crim- inal. Possibly self-interest may of- fer motives, that will bring the soul up unto God and prepare it to such thoughts that it will freely love God and duty for their own sake, and thus go above self-interest. So one person is for experiences, another for habits; one for sentiments, an- other for principles. But God is comprehensive, working all in all only by diverse operations. A large body of Christians insist on a per- fectly uniform exercise in religion. Another body are for new scenes and high demonstrations. But God, consulting both for uniformity and diversity, prefers to bring us on to- wards one, by means of the other. So in all the possible views or as- pects of Christian character, you will come nearest to what is great and Christ-like, if you seek to unite whatever repugnant extremes are before youto be modest and yet bold ; conciliatory and yet inflexi- ble; patient in suffering, sharp in rebuke ; deferential to all men, in- dependent of all; charitable towards the erring, severe against the error; at once gentle and rigid, catholic and exclusive, all things to all men, and one thing only to yourself. The more numerous and repugnant the extremes of character (excepting those which are sinful) you are able to unite in one comprehensive and harmonious whole, the more finish- 1848.3 Christian Comprehensiveness. 91 ed and complete your character will be. We have dwelt thus largely on illustrations derived from the depart- ment of practical character, because the tendency of mankind to assume opposite poles or extremes is here so conspicuous, and a matter so fa- miliar to observation. Our design is to get color, in this manner, for the more difficult branch of our sub- ject yet remaining. Man is not one being in the practical life, and an- other in the intellectual or specula- tive. Indeed there is no precise line of distinction bet~een matters of practice and matters of opinion ; for practice moulds opinion, and opin- ion practice. And it will be found that in all the contrarieties of char- acter just set forth, the contrariety observed is due to the fact that char- acter and duty are seen at opposite poles, and shaped in this manner by opposite opinions. Passing on now to matters of faith and doctrine, ~ve shall see the same only more distinctly. And as all the extremes of practice go by pairs, so we shall find that sects and dogmas are set off in pairs about given points, and fighting each for its own opinion or polethus that all the Christian sects stand to repre- sent, in some sense, all the Christian truths. Which, if we can manage to comprehend, as we know they are acknowledged and comprehen- ded by Christ in the unity of his own body, then we shall complete our- selves in Christian doctrine, and re- alize the idea of a true Christian catholicitv. We do not, of course, maintain that there is no error in the Chris- tian sects. A want of catholicity, or comprehensiveness, is itself error. To see any thing partially, or at one pole, is to see it insufficiently, thus in defective forms and proportions. Thus all sects and schools hold mix- tures of error, created by only half seeing ~vhat they see. Besides they are all instigated ,in part, by evil pas. sions and blinded by false prejudi- ces, so that they not only fall into error by half seeing, but sometimes by ~vrong seeing also. Still it will generally be found, if we set our- selves to a careful scrutiny of the tenet or opinion which is distinctive in a given sect or school, that there is some real truth in it, however re- pugnant at first view to ussome- thing which makes it true to the school, and the school earnest in maintaining it. As a matter of fact too, we have almost never seen a dogma advanced by any body of men, however monstrous, which, if it were dissolved and viewed in its contents historically, would not yield some important truth. Thus, among the first efforts of the church to frame a doctrine of atonement, the death of Christ is of- ten represented, and especially by Ireneus and Origen, as a ransom paid to the devil. No representa- tion probably could be more abhor- rent, when taken on its face, to the feelings of all modern Christians. But if we can have patience to with- hold our judgment, long enough to take down the drapery of the lan- guage, or dissolve its figures, thus to separate the real troth of feeling they may have received, under a form of dogma so abhorrent to our speculative views of the subject; in a word, if we can accurately con- ceive their historic state of mind, when advancing this rude theory of atonement, the first which unillumi- nated reason had produced, we shall find no difficulty in allowing that they held a warm and living truth, under a form so badly misshapen. No doctrine is sooner rejected, or more derided for its absurdity, than the doctrine of the real presence. But when taken with all the nega- tions added, in regard to the sensi- ble form of the elements in the sup- per, it would be difficult to show that any thing more is left than what every believing Christian ought to admit, viz, that the recipient of the 92 Christian comprehensiveness. [Jan. supper is to meet, therein, a grace which is above sensation, and feast himself in the participation of the divine nature. Out of this great truth of the presence, passing into a human philosophy, the doctrine of transubstantiation, and of a sacrifice, probably grew. The injuriousness of the doctrine is due, not to the fact that it contains no truth, but to the fact, rather, that the disciple is like to be confused and astounded as before a miracle wrought by the priest, and thus to miss of the truth. The exaggeration, or over-statement, smothers the truth contained. Mean- time, is it not also possible, that the Protestant often misses the same truth, under the doctrine of Zuingle? He comes, we will suppose, to do an act, to use a symbol that will as- sist him to remember his Lord ? But if he is wholly occupied with his own act, there is no communion. He is only magnetizing himself. Communion implies reciprocity, and if he may not and does not receive the real Christ, there is no recipro- city. If, therefore, Christ does not offer himself there to be received, by a presence above sensation, or if the disciple does not believe it, then he is blinded by his rational isrn as the Ho- manist by his superstition. Two things are necessary to the Christian idea of the supper. An act of re- ception, which is an act of faith, and a matter to be received, which is a matter offered to faith. If the Ho- manist omits the faith, how often, both in practice and also in theory, does the Protestant omit the matter of faith. When both poles are uni- ted, when Christ the matter of faith is offered to faith, and faith receives the matter offered, then is the Lords body discerned. The Quaker doctrine of an inner light, however derided, contains a great arid sublime truth. And, if it be taken as antagonistic to the doc- trine that all true knowledge is de- rivable to the soul through sense, whether as occupied with nature, or instructed by revelation, it might he difficult to say which is nearer to the truth. If one nullifies the word, the other nullifies the soul as the candle of the Lord. Or if the world is dark without Christ, so, if the light that is in us be darkness, how great is that darknesseven having Christ before us. Without the inner light, revelation can not certify its truth ; for there is nothing in the soul to measure and discrim- inate truth. Without revelation vis- iting the soul from without, oi~ through the senses and the understanding, the inner liolit of conscience and reason is provol~d to no distinct an- nouncement of itself. There is a divine Word in the souls own na- ture, but it shineth in darkness and is not comprehended, till the Word becomes flesh and is represented historically without. And even then, the natural man discerneth not the things of the Spirit, until the inner life of the soul is quickened to per. ceptiveness, by the inbreathing of God. The Quaker and the Scrip- turalist, therefbre, are both right and both wrongright in what they as- sert, wrong in what they deny. Unite the positive contents of both, and we have the Christian doctrine. The same may be said, in sub- stance, regarding the Absolute Re- ligion of Mr. Parker; for this is on- ly a modified Quakerisma Qua- kerism whose inspiration lies in nat- ural ideas and instincts, and not, to any extent, in spiritual gifts. Nor is any thing more true than that the soul is constituted for religion, much as he has represented. It is a great and divine truth alsoone that rev- elation itself presupposes and actu- ally affirms. But if Mr. Parker had taken pains to inquire why God has set us in a sphere of sensation, amid objects of knowledge and scenes of experience,why he did not make us mere absolutes ourselves, in a world of geometries and bare intel- lectualities, he might have been led to suspect that the same reasons 1848.] Christian Comprehensiveness. 93 which determined to this, might re- quire also historic revelations and even miracles. For if it be need- ful to live in a phenomenal world, if the absolutes of the soul are noth- ing worth, until they are brought forth into actual discourse, and rep- resented and mirrored in the objects and scenes of experience; if seeing and hearing, trial and work, are wanted to assist the absolute reli- gion, why may not a Divine Word in the flesh be as needful as a Divine Word in the world? At the same time, Mr. Parker is not to be an- swered by denying the religious na- ture of the soul. If the soul were not a religious nature, the historic word would be worthless; and so, without the historic word, the reli- gious nature, as a glance at the na- tions of mankind abundantly shows, will only baffle itself in its sins, and become a blinded and bewildered instinct. Many person.s are inexpressibly shocked by the Calvinistic dogma of unconditional election and reproba- tion, or of absolute decrees. But if they could suspend their mind, long enough to sound its depths and meas- ure its real contents, they would find a gre at and holy truth enveloped in it, one that is even fundamental to Gods empire, and necessary to the highest power of his government over soulsthe same which has giv- en to Calvinism a religious energy so peculiar. If it be understood that God enters into the actual his- torical world of men, to pick out, unconditionally, one for life and an- other for death, there is abundant reason to be shocked by such a doc- trine. But if we go above the ac- tual, to contemplate God, before th~ foundation of the world, as dealing with intelligibles, or possibles, pe- rusing systems of possibles, fore- knowing them and their contents, not as actual, or historical, but as intelligible; then instituting, or by a fiat of will actualizing the best and wisest, we shall see that, in put- ting that best system on foot, he has made it certain that all the contents of the system will emerge, histori- cally, in due time. He has done it by an absolute unconditional de- cree; for, if he had not put the sys- tem on foot, nothing in it would ev- er become a historical fact. And having done so, every thing in it will, and he will not be disappoint- ed. What he saw in the intelligi- ble, will emerge in the historical, exactly as he saw it. But not so as to exclude conditions in the actual. For the intelligible system he select- ed, was a system linked together by innumerable causes and relations; comprisinci activities to be exerted by Himself, laws pronounced, works of grace performed, acts and choi- ces of the subjects as they, in their own freedom or self-activity, would determine; results of character and destiny, such as his own good activ- ity, and theirs, both good and evil, would produce. And here is the great truth of Calvinism. Having this intelligible system before Him, with all its ingredients, conditions and results, God by an absolute de- cree institutes the system ; which is the same as to say that whatsoever it contains, will come to passcome to pass, that is, under the conditions, so as not to infringe upon the re- sponsibility of any subject, and so as to justify LIim and his goodness in all. In this grand truth of Cal- vinism, Gods WILL becomes a real- ity. The world is felt to be in his hands. He asks no leave to reign. He reigns not blindly, or as a being baffled by unknown contingencies. Trembling before his sovereignty, we find it still a benign sovereignty, a rock of confidence and love. Un- able to ascend above the actual and historical, the Arminian sees no oth- er way to save the conditions of free- dom and just responsibility, but to deny a truth so essential to Gods government. Probably the Calvin- ist, equally unable to get above the actual, asserts his doctrine of divine 94 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. will and unconditional decrees, as holding under and within the sphere of actual history. One destroys the government of God, the other makes him a tyrant. And yet they are both asserting great and fundamen- tal truths. Unite the Arminian and the Calvinist, comprehend both doc- trines, and we have the Christian truth. In these illustrations, it has been our object to show that, in dogmas re- garded with the utmost repugnance, there is generally to be found some important truth, if only we have pa- tience to look for it. In the same illustrations, we have also advanced the general purpose we have in hand, viz, to show that all the Chris- tian truths stand in opposites, or ex- tremes that need to be comprehend- ed. That something of this kind is true in matters of natural science, is known to all. In the astronomic forces, in the chemical resolution of substances, in light and electricity, we discover nature lying between her poles, and science becoming a doctrine, when it comprehends them both. And, in this, we have only a symbol of what relates to mind and spirit, the doctrine of man and the doctrine of God. Accordingly, the first thing to be done in theology is to reveal the poles, or the repugnant forms of truth. In all matters of moral judg- ment, or intellectual opinion, there must be something in the nature of controversy, to prepare the way. The elements to be combined or comprehended will thus be brought to light, and set up as distinct ob- jects of contemplation. Then the man or the teacher that follows, holding himself aloof from the con- troversy, and looking calmly on as a spectat3r, to ask what do these combatants mean? what great truth have they each in mind, for which they are doing battle? will almost uniformly find that they have one, which is some how reconcilable with the opposite. Accordingly, there i~ no one who has so great advantage, in arriving at the truth, as he who follows after a controversy, if only he has the independence of men and the implicit love of truth, ne- cessary to improve his position. Our churches, for example, have been recently agitated hy a warm and earnest controversy in reference to the doctrine of spiritual regenera- tion. Ask what the antagonist par- ties are after, and it will be found that one is after the truth of divine agency and spiritual dependence, the other after the liberty and re- sponsibility of the subject. In this case neither of the parties intends to deny what the other really wishes to maintain. Both assert our de- pendence, both our ability. But one a dependence which to the oth- er destroys all ability ; one an abil- ity which to the other destroys all dependence. Never was there a better opportunity to settle the true comprehensive doctrine on this diffi- cult subject, than when such a con- troversy going before has set up, in full view, the antagonistic elements to be united. Bitt if we are to use the advantage offered, we must not be in haste to enrol ourselves as disciples or partisans. We must ascend to a higher and calmer po- sition, where we may see at once, all the material offered us, and use it as material to be comprehended in a single view or doctrine. Then possibly ~ve may find thnt a soul, under the bondage of evil, is able to renew himself in good in and through dependenceable to work because God wnrketh in him. It will not be said that he has a natural ability ~vhich means nothing, nor a natural ability which means that he can do all by himself. It will not be found that God must dispense an ictic grace before he can put forth any right motion, which absolves the sinner from any attempt; nor that he can regenerate himself, and is dependent on God only by consent or courtesy. But it will be seen 1848.] Christian Comprehensiveness. 95 that he can do nothing out of God any thing in God. In the great question put in issue by the Unitarians concerning the Trinity, or the nature of God, it is difficult, in a single paragraph, to indicate the true comprehensive doctrine. But we are ready to ex- press our firm conviction that the Unitarians xviii not be found to have stood forth in the maintenance of a pure error, when insisting on the strict unity of God. There was a kind of Trinity maintained, and still is, by many, xvhich amounts to a practical triplicity, and breeds a mental confusion in the worshiper, that is both painful and hurtful. For this there ~vas no remedy but to assert the absolute unity of the di- vine nature, and the position here as- sumed is impregnable. No doctrine of Trinity that infringes upon this can ever be maintained. Does it therefore follow, since God is one, that there is no conceivable triper- sonality which can be vindicated ? Others may thus judge, but for our- selves we have no difficulty in per. ceiving either the meaning, or the practical need of such a doctrine. For if there be a practical confusion in the triplicity held by many, there is a practical impotence in the bald philosophic unity and its represen- tations, when rigidly adhered to, that is even more injurious to the life of religion. While our Unita- rian friends, therefore, are reposing in all confidence on their impregna- ble doctrine of the divine unity, it becomes them to remember that if they are not reasoned out of it they may yet be frozen out, which is quite as bad. For without a Trini- ty subjective to us and filling the forms of the mind, God is necessa- rily distant, unconversible, and with- out any adequate xvarmth to sustain our religious vitality. Of this xve feel quite as sure as we do of Gods objective unity. If in saying this we seem to speak enigmatically, it is all we can say at present. We only express, in addition, our confi- dent belief in the possibility of a doctrine that shall comprehend all which the Christian world, on both sides of this great question, are con- tending for. For it would be singu- lara philosophic anomaly passing belief, that all Christendom should have been standing for so many centuries, for that which, after all, is a pure phantasm, or hallucination. It is not in mankind to go after tiaked error in this way. Even when they stumble worst, it will be found that they have yet some sem- blance of truth. In the question of old and new, perpetually recurring in matters of religion, we have the bigot on one side, asserting that nothing may be new, and the radical, on the other, that nothing shall be old. And if Christianity be a vital power in the church, both are true; for the new must be the birth of the old, and the old must have its births, or die. The future must he of the past, and the past must create a future. And which is more violent, to make a future identical with the past, or to make a future separate from the past, it may be difficult to say. We shall commonly settle on the right view, xvhen we have schooled dbwn the bigot and the radical, and com- pelled them to coalesce in some common result. And this Lord Bacon has done most happily, in his masterly comprehensive maxim, when he says We are the real antiquity. For in this he affirms both that all the wealth of antiquity is accumulated upon us, and that we have it as material out of which to make a future. If we cast off the lessons of antiquity, we are not xvise. If we allow ourselves to be the mere ducts of antiquity, supposing that antiquity is to repeat itself in us, we are not wise. But we are wise on- ly when xve take note of the past, observe it carefully, study it re- spectfully, correct ourselves by its wisdom and its errors, and apply it 96 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. to fortify our own free judgment and use. Nearly related to this is the ques- tion of church authority and of pri. vate judgment. Doubtless there is just so much authority, in the decis- ions of the past, as private judgment can reasonably accept. More there can not be. For to what do the ad. vocates of church authority appeal, but to private judgment? They ask us, in fact, to give up private judg. ment, by an act of private judgment; in which it will be perceived they set open the whole question. And what do we, on the other side, in asserting private judgment, but al- low it for granted, that there are rea- sons and authorities, under which we are to judge? Unless then we intend to say that the decisions and opinions of past ages, or of all ages, are to have no weight in determin- ing questions and are never to turn the scales of evidence, there must be cases where we are concluded by authority of the past. And how far different is this from an appeal to private judgment, in favor of ac- cepting all the past? for, if there be any one article of the past, which it can not accept, then it must be re- jectqd, under the question of giving up odr private judgment, precisely as if it were cited only as an evidence offered to private judgment. True it is maintained, on one side, that the church of the past has been illu- minated by the Holy Spirit, so as to judge rightly, but this again can be decided only by an appeal to private judgment ; and, if the advo- cates of church authority could al- low a truth so manifest, their diffi- culty with the advocates of private judgment would soon be over. The sound reality of the question would then be stated, and our passions would not be smoking round a mock ques- tion that, having no significance, ad- mits no settlement. Now we have it before us, on one side, to shut our eyes, and accept the law of the past, which, if we do, we use our will to sacrifice our understandingwhich is the most unmanly and basest kind of thraldom. Then, on the other, seeing that a tyrant is set up, who requires us first of all to put out our own eyes, we rebel, we even scout his impudent usurpations. So we have, on one band, men who have lost their liberty; on the other, men who have lost their reverence. One class have their souls entombed un- der church authority. The other torn from the past are living as va- grant atoms in the open spaces of time, till the hunger of inanity and isolation kills them. Piety to the past, that is a free and filial defer- ence, a rational and dutiful love, is the common want of both. Let the slave become a son, the libertine a son, the past a mother to both, and the quarrel is ended. We might go on with illustrations of this kind, till a great multitude of the controverted doctrines of Chris- tianity are seen yoked with their op- posites, in friendly embracepan- theism with theism, absolute religion with revealed religion, supralapsari- anism with sublapsarianism, absolute decrees with self active freedom, salvation by grace with salvation by ~vorks, inability with ability, natural depravity with natural innocence, the bondage of sin with the freedom of the sinner. In all these repug- nances, we have only the two poles of truth, which, if we can manage to comprehend in one and the same mental view, we arrive at the proper integrity of the Christian doctrine. indeed we may lay it down as true, in general, that all the Christian sects in ail their manifold repugnances of doctrine, are only concerned to ex- hibit the great elemental truths of Christianity. They all have errors, they all partially mistake, as it is human to do, and yet they all have some form of truth to maintain,which, when it is viewed comprehensively, and carefully distinguished under the fornis of language, will fall into the same great scheme of Christian doc 1848.1 Christian Comprehensiveness. 97 trine and assist to fill out the body thereof. So that when a man is able to comprehend the reality of all sects, casting away the unreality, he will be a full grown proper Chris- tian man. Dismissing here subjects of doc- trine, we go on to speak of polities and organizations. Polities are not so much essential truths, or doc- trines. as means to ends. They embody each some practical aim or idea, and offer each some valuable contribution to the comprehensive church of the future. Whether they will ever coalesce in any practical unity or mutual acknowledgment of each other, bringing in their treas- ures to enrich the common body, many will doubt; but, if a hope so beautiful must be renounced as vis- ionary, we shall easily convince our- selves, by a study of their contents, that they have each some kind of wealth which makes their existence valuable, even now, to the world. Or, if some of them have no longer a sufficient reason for the inainten- ance of a distinct existence, it is only because they have already emptied their treasures into the worlds his- tory. Possibly such an opinion may some time be held of them all ; for it may be that they are all designed to serve only temporary uses. And then, when they have all emptied themselves into history, and history contains the product of all, what for- bids that a new church may emeree that shall comprehend the uses of all? And if any such result is ever to appear, where sooner than here in these United States? Why else are we thrown together in this manner Christians of all names and sects, living in the same neighborhoods, fellow citizens under the same laws, holding equal terms before the laws, united in business, intermarried in families? No such spectacle as this has ever been exhibited before, since Christianity entered the world, VOL. VI. 13 and yet it seems to be the design of God that it shall, ere long, be so in all the other nations of mankind. rrhe extension of liberty must bring the same results to pass every where. It seems to be Gods purpose that all these multiform sects and polities shall either dissolve each other and lodge their contents at last in a grand comprehensive unity, or else wear themselves into similar shapes by their mutual attrition. And how else could a properly catholic slate, which is the hope of us all, be constructed Forecasting such a possibility, let us glance at some of the sects and take a survey of their contents. And we begin ~vith the Baptists, be- cause they seem, in their very dis- tinction as a sect, to stand for that which can never be accepted ; for there is not the least probability, however confidently they may ex- pect it themselves, that the whole church of God ~vill, at any future time, become Baptists. How then, it will be asked, can they ever come into any comprehensive sI Ic, with- out renouncing that which alone gives them a distinct existence? But the question implies a view of the Baptist sect, whether held by them- selves or by others, which is super- ficial and does not do them justice. Their real office, as a sect, does not lie in the fact that they are Baptists, but in that which makes them Bap- tists. And the fact is of little con- sequence in distinguishing the sect, save as it indicates a deeper and more significant cause, in their char- acter. Taken as a class, the Bap- tists are the Christian impracticables, (not using the word in an evil sense,) individualists of the highest and most perfect degree. They are each a kind of church by himself, holding his minutest convictions as stern im- movable fatalities. They are the intolerants, so to speak, of individu- alism; sacrificing to it communion and submerging under it, to a great degree, the social instinct itself. Assuming such a position they stand 98 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan~ off in solemn antagonism, against the intolerance of all social con- straints, in church and state. Such manifestly are the men to be fore- most, in asserting the sacred rights of the conscience. They did it in England, they did it here, they have done it every where. And now, at this present moment, nothing is wanted in Rome itself, and in all the nations still lying under ecclesias- tical oppression, so much as the ris- ing up of a race of stern individual- ists or impracticables, like the Bap- tists. In this view they have filled a noble office. They represent, in the most naked form, that which is the distinction of modern history the full recognition of the individual man and the consequent sanctifica- tion of his rights and liberties. And this we may say is the real truth of the sect, the practical idea which measures its value. This be- ing accomplished among any given people, there is no longer any suffi- cient reason for its continued exist- ence. And when the antagonism which gave it value and life is com- pletely routed, we may reasonably doubt whether the anti-social, or irn- practicable spirit of the sect will not ultimately take away its own vitality. Indeed we seriously doubt whether a community wholly made up of Baptists could be molded into any settled and permanent form of social order, whether in church or state. They would fly asunder, just as now they withdraw from one another, constituting already as many as fif- teen or twenty distinct sects. They are too unreducible, too much given to their individuality, to melt into any solid form of social unity. Be- sides, it is sure to be discerned also, as their mental breadth increases, that the mere question of baptism is one of too small consequence to make any dignified reason for the existence of a sect. It will be won- derful too, if it does not some time appear unchristian to many to for- swear the communion of the whole Christian world, for a pretext so slender. Possibly it may also be discerned that the reasonings appli- ed to disprove the baptism of.chil- dren are against the spirit of the gospel, against nature, hurtful to the family, hurtful to the church, pro- ceeding from an exaggerated indi- vidualism, which takes away the Christian zest of life as a social or- dinance, unsanctifles the homes and reduces humanity itself, (having Christ incarnate in its bosom,) to a collection ofdry and repellantatoms. rfhe practical idea embodied in Congregationalism ,or Independency, is different, though its history is, in some respects, parallel. It is less individual than the Baptist sect and more so than the Presbyterian. And in common with all the forms of Puritanism, it is too abhorrent of the pasttoo completely severed in feeling from the past; owing to the fact that it took its being, in a con- test for the right to reform the er- rors of the past. Considered as a distinct form of polity, it stands for equality; not that equality which be- longs to separate atoms but a social equality. It denies all priestly dig- nities, and suffers no lords over the heritage of GQd. It makes the church a brotherhood, equal to the work of self.government and respon- sible for the maintenance of its own order. Free toleration, liberty of conscience, it was sure to accept in due time, but it was too mtich intent, at the first, on social ends, to invent the doctrine. Its instinct was to or- ganize a social stateIT 1\IUST BUILD. Hence it had no thought but that the elements must coalesce, and if they refused there was no place for them. The fathers said they would have a free church and a free common- wealth, but it was to be free only to themselves. In their doctrine of equality, there was a germ of true religious liberty, but it was only a germ, and tide must unfold it. But going forward under the impulse of a strong constructive instinct, the 1848j Christian Comprehensiveness. 99 new sect laid its foundations, built itself up into a solid republican or- der, and became the type of all that is distinctive in our institutions. Taken as a constructive po~ver, it is to the Baptists ~vhat Massachusetts is to Rhode Island, or rather to what Rhode Island was in the social con- fusion of a former age. Wanting originally, in that which gave its practical value to the Baptist sect, it supplied an element which, in that, was deficient. Both are Con- gregational, but one has furnished the antagonistic spirit of liberty, the other its constructive social powers. One therefore has filled a more oc- casional office, the other a more per- manent. For if Congregationalism dies and the name is lost, no frame of polity, in church or state, can hope for a general prevalence, which rejects the constructive powers of American history. Presbvterianism is substantially one, in this respecta younger brother, in our history, who ha*~ acted, for the most part, in conjunc- iton with the elder, assisting the same results. Methodism has par- tially accepted the same principles of equality and self-government. It acknowledges no priesthood. The laity have an operative sphere and are sure, at length, to have a joint right in the government. Even American Episcopacy has sought to combine with prelacy a lay power, which represents the constructive basis of our institutions. The whole American church must some time do the same. Indeed there is a philo- sophic necessity that the comprehen- sive church of the future, if ever it shall appear, should conform to the constructive law of our institutions. Whether it have one order, or three; whether it be distributed into par- ishes or diocesan circles, it must be a brotherhood, officered by itself. The phantom of a priestly succes- sion, distinct from the succession of the brotherhood of grace, a super- stition cherished with so great in- dustry in England, as the last hope of a priestly fabric outlawed by time, can never get possession of this nation. The constructive law of our history is against it, and it is a shadow too thin to battle with a force of so great solidity. Our phi- losophy can never accept it and it is too late in the day for a flat super- stition to palm itself on the earnest belief of a nation like this. Not one in fifty of the Episcopal sect, in this country, earnestly believes it now. Many adhere to the sect in spite of it, and for reasons of a higher and manlier character. We have barely touched upon the Methodist polity, but it gives a beau- tiful illustration, in its history, of a very important truth, viz, that any organization formed with a godly purpose and a desire to promote ho- liness of life and effectiveness in ac- tion, will be consecrated by Provi- dence and perpetuated as a true church. Methodism was not orga- nized as a church, but as an abnor- mal order in the church of England. It proposed, not to call out a dissent- ing body from the establishment, but to hold a position auxiliary to it ; to stimulate its piety, supply its defects, rel)air the desolations left behind it by its heedless and worldly minis- try. A more disinterested aim nev- er actuated any human society. And such has been its efficiency, so manifest the good fruits it has yield- ed, that it has been obliged, as it were, to become a church and be perpetuated as such. God gives it the succession it did not ask, and holds it up to mock all successions that lie in tradition and not in duty. Methodism also illustrates another truth, viz, that Arminianism can be earnest in the godly life as ~vell as Calvinisma fact that God offers us to enlarge our charity and pre- pare us to a broader spirit of com- prehensiveness. Were it not for this, were it known that Arminian- ism is synonymous only with dead- ness and spiritual inefficiency, many 100 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. would shrink from the comprehen- sion of any one of its principles, as from the contact of death. Even now, when an age of dead Calvin- ism appears, it has become a kind of habit, the injustice of which many do not know, to call the profitless churches and ministers, Arminians. It would seem that a glance at the doctrines held on one side hy these dead churches, then at our Methodist brethren on the other; devout, ear- nest, filling the new regions and the desolate wastes of the land with their fervent prayers and the fervent praises of men converted to God; ~vould suffice to show us all, first that Calvinism may be dead, and second that Arminianism may be alivepossibly that a comprehen- sion of both will be safer than to rest in either. Nor is there any sect in our country, we are surc, that will more readily sink itself in a comprehensive unity of all, than this which undertook, in England, to be auxiliary only to another, and which here rejoices in being a pi- oneer to all others. May it not be found also that the true comprehen- sive church will require an order of Methodism within itself, that all de- fects may be supplied, and all waste places visited? The most obstinate impediment to a comptehensive church is to be found, we fear, in the Episcopal church of our country. There seems to be a kind of fah lity, if we should not rather say fatuity, in our American Episcopacy, which for- bids it to see where its own interest lies, and also what is due from it to the common cause of God in the na- tion. It embodies in itself treasures of spiritual wealth that were re- luctantly renounced by our fathers, and which many among us now would gladly accept, if the wood, hay, and stubble were removed. XVe could draw out a modification of its liturgy and also of its polity, which would make it inviting to the great body of Christians under other names, and not a whit less satisfac- tory to its most earnest lay adhe- rents ; it only would not satisfy the egregious claims of its priesthood. They would be required to give up the superstitions they have gathered round their office, and interwoven with their priestly functions. If they could cease to Anglicize and consent to be Americans, if letting go their traditional grace, they could suffer a very little of true Christian philosophy, we would give them a divine right in their office, quite as efficient and far more valid than any which they cling to now. Doubtless there is a truth, a great and momentous truth, wrapped up in their doctrine of succession ; for the church of God is a vital body, and a vital body is one; so com- pletely one, in fact, as well nigh to exclude the idea of succession. Its life is the life of God. This is its organific power, and it fills all ages, not as collective or successive ag- gregations, but as a corporate unity sets us in immediate and living con- nection with the apostles and all saints of all ages, makes theta ven- erable to our thoughts and us parti- cipants in their history. So that a church out of connection with the past is impossible, and a church that has lost the sense of its connection, regarding itself as being historically new, is a church chilled and be- numbed by the fictitious isolation it assumes. But it does not follow that the vital unity of the church is constructed by an official succession of ministers or church magistrates, but the contrary; for then there would be a complete vital organism in the magistracy of the church, dis- tinct from that of the general body of disciples, requiring us to believe that there is either no vital unity in that, or else that there are two dis- tinct unities, one of the mugistrucy and another of the body, which is the same as to deny the unity of the church. At the same time, there is an im 1848.] Christian Comprehensiveness. 101 portant truth also wrapped up in this idea of a magisterial grace, descend- ing from one to another. It is only ruisconceived. The truth is this, that every officer in the church, as in the state, must be in it by a divine right, he must be clothed in his office by God. But it does not follow that he must be clothed in a certain way, viz, by a traditional grace of suc- cession. In the days when kings and nobles succeeded by blood, and legitimacy was the same thing as a divine right to reign, it was natural that bishops, who do not succeed by blood, should think it essential to their office that it be derived by some kind of succession. Hence the fig- ment of a bishops grace was in- vented, and was readily accepted by the church; for how else could a bishop have zany right, unless by some kind of tradition or inheri- tance? And how shall the Angli- can church fortify itself now against the inroads of change, except as it consecrates this figment? Might not our American Episcopacy let go this fiction of legitimacy, and ceas- ing to nurse a sul)erstition so feeble and void of dignity, trust itself to such divine right as it may have di- rectly from God, as the head of all society? For it is God who clothes all office with a sacred right, an American President as truly as a British Queen. The designation may be by blood or by election; the investiture may be in one form, or another; still the magistrate is in by a divine right under God, as the fountain of all magistracy. XVe are the more willing to apol- ogize for our American Episcopacy, as adhering until now to this Angli- cizing habit, because of the practi- cal ly atheistic notions of government, which have hitherto prevailed among our people. But when we have had time to bring out the true theory of our governmentelection designa- ting the ruler, God accepting and clothing him in his officeauthority derived not from men, but from God, the only conceivable fountain of au- thoritywhen our political philoso- phy has brought us to this, (for as yet we have no political philosophy that relates to any thing deeper than the forms of government,) then it will be more inexcusable to cling to the superstition of a canonical suc- cession in the church. And why should not our American Episcopa- cy, embracing now a manlier doc- trine, and marrying itself boldly to our American institutions, assist us in consecrating the divine right of our magistracies, instead of saying practically that God can sanctify a magistracy only through a line of legitimacy and a traditional inves- titure ? We can never have a compre- hensive church, in this nation, that mocks the political order of the na- tion. Let our Episcopal friends consider this, and give to the con- siderations we have offered their true weight; and then they will be ready to offer their church to the na- tion, riot as a foreign mannerism, not as an affront to our feelings and our history, but as Christ offers love to the race, paying tribute even to Cmsar. We care not for three or- ders, or thirty, if only they bring us no superstitions and no lords over Gods heritage. American Episco- pacy is really nearer to American Congregationalism now, than it is to the state establishment of England, if only it could acknowledge what a rigid analysis of structure would certainly show. Let it thank Amer- ican history that it is brought so much nearer to the true apostolic model. And if Puritanism has been a root in our history, let some honor he ascribed to Puritanism. Being sure also of this, that no church can unite itself to the love and life of a nation, which does not honor its fathers. Actuated by views like these, let our American Episcopacy pour itself into our bosom, as it may, with all its venerable treas- ures; neither suffer a doubt that all 102 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. it has, which is worth accepting, will be accepted. We come now, last of all, to the Romish church, which, at present, is not, in any sense, an American church, but a Romish. It is foreign, not in its sympathies only, but in its organizationits head and ruling power is at Rome. What are to be its fortunes in this country, it may be difficult to foretell. It is per- fectly manifest, however, that our institutions must communicate their spirit to its disciples, in such a de- gree, as to limit effectually the pow- ers of its priesthood, and, in process of time, to require radical changes in its discipline. It can live among us only as it submits to be Ameri- canized. At present, it has little moral power in our country, and we see not how it can well have more, until it suffers a closer conformity with our institutions. Were it left to stand alone, as a foreign religion, it would soon have less. But un- happily another church, maintaining its pretensions by arguments of a similar character, and associated with the name of England, mitigates the alien aspect it would have when standing alone, and imparts to it a show of character it has not in it- self. XVe regard the Romish church as a kind of monumental Christianity. Its rites, its creeds, its prayers, are all monuments; the shrines under which it has gathered the bones of the dead ages of the faith, are mon- uments; its cathedrals are repre- sentations, in stone, of their build- ers, and the grandeur of their Chris- tian ideas. The saints days are a practice in the mnemonics of his- tory. The mendicant orders, mon- asteries and religious houses, still continued, after the spirit of life in which they rose has departed, are a pantomime all of death and the dead. So of the pictures, images, altars, amulets, relics, and priestly robesevery thing seen, handled and used, in the machinery of the worship, is monumental. The in- cense has a Jewish smell, the yes- tals are a classic, the candles shed a pagan light. The whole immense framework of the religion is monu- mental. It represents, not the con- tents of the Gospel of Christ, but the history of that Gospel; showing how it has acted on the base ele- ments of an idolatrous world and a corrupt human nature,and how they, in turn, have acted upon it. The good and the evil, the holy and the base, the charities of saints and the extortions of sin, the pure breath- ings of the just and the cruelties of power, trophies of faith and scars of wrong, gentile prejudices, pagan philosophies, gods baptizedevery thing that has been since the Lords ascension, all that men have done, out of an evil or a good heart, to build up his religion, is represented and embodied. The power of Christ is visible; in one view the structure is a memorial of his truth. Quite as visible is the power of evil. It is such a fabric as man builds, when he blends himself and the social de- lusions of his race, with the heav- enly truth he will consecrate. And yet, if we regard it as the design of God to connect the Chris- tian future with the Christian past, by means of Romanism, how man- ifest is it that Romanism is what it should be. It garners up the life of the dead ages, as it gatheis the bod- ies of the saints under its shrines, and bears them, in palpable show, through dark ages of sense and oblivion, to connect with the living thoughts of a more remote and more intelligent future. For though we may shrink from any thought of union with its baser contents, we shall embrace with the livelier and healthier reverence, on that account, all it contains of sanctity and truth. We shall see Christ struggling through it, as the sun through clouds. The righteous good of the past will appear in it, as in a dark and solemn tragedy, to be embraced with tears. 1848.] Christian Comprehensiveness. 103 Great truths prevailing still against long ages of superstition and per- verse speculation, as if unable to die, will shine forth in it the more gloriously, that they have proved their divinity. Things that move us by their sanctity and grandeur, will move us the more deeply that things base and offensive, always at hand, throw us into a maze and mix our reverence with disgust. Protesting against the human, we shall be the more impressed by what is divine. But this, we regret to say, is not yet the happiness of Protestantism. The throc of the Protest has been so severe, and the consequent an- tagon ism so intense, that a kind of horror, which absorbs all discrimi- native thoughts, separates us from Romanism and it from us. As Protestants, we seem to imagine a new beginning of Christianity. We assert a future seemingly dis- rupted from the past, and Romanism confronts us with a past disrupted from the future. And this is a con- dition of death to both; for every social body, whether civil or Chris- tian, is of the past and for the fu- ture, and can not properly live, save as it connects with both. What now we need is this; be- ing delivered of the mutual horror, which has thrown both great divis- ions of the church asunder and been a wall of unreason between them, we must dare to look, one at the other, with eyes of deliberative in- spection. And thus we shall be drawn gradually towards compre- hension; one to unite with the Chris- tian past, the other with the Chris- tian future; the old to be purified by the new, the new to be hallowed and made venerable by the old. Is not such a process already begun? What signifies the new sympathy, which now exists, between the Ro- mish state and the British govern- menta sympathy strong enough even to countervail the influence of Austria? And what is the import of the cheers for Pius Ninth, that are rolling back upon Italy, from this democratic and Protestant peo- ple? And what is to be the neces- sary result of the spread of intelli- gence and of popular freedom, the growth of commerce, the rapid in- tercommunications of travel, and the universal intermingling of sects, which are sure to arise, on the fu- ture prevalence of liberty? The la~vs of society seem to prophesy here, and what do they tell us? Let no one imagine the impossibility of any such thing as a gradual ap- proach, or even a final coalescence of the two forms of religion. If a Grotius and a Leibnitz maintained, in their day, the possibility of a re- conciliation and a final comprehen- sion, laboring earnestly to accom- plish it, we may well enough risk any sentence that may be passed upon us, for cherishing the same thought now. Unhappily we are accustomed on- ly to speak of the differences be- tween us and the Romanistsnot of our agreements. Probably most Protestants would be surprised by the results that might appear, on a rigid comparison of our doctrines so many are the coincidences, on points generally considered to be of the first consequence. And where some repugnances exist, a still more comprehensive scrutiny would often show that one is but the comple- ment of the other. Elements also in the Romish polity, which we re- gard with unqualified repugnance or even abhorrence, will sometimes be found, when viewed historically, to have served uses so important, as to allow a mitigation of our judg- meats. We just now spoke, for ex- ample, of the monastic institutions, in terms that are well enough adapt. ed to their present merits. But, in their origin, they were scarcely more than a natural development, or outward expression of the un- worldly spirit of the Christian life. And of this they stood as a liv- ing symbol before mankindsetting 104 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. forth, in visible show, the antago. riism between this world and the self-crucifying spirit of a life of faith. Arid as every sort of truth has been maintained by some extreme view of it, we need not scruple to allow that the unworldly nature of the godly life was more distinctly im- pressed on the minds of men, and is also more seriously apprehended even by us, by means of the nscetic, or monastic institutions. For we can not definitely tell what causes in the past have assisted to construct our own views and sentiments, or detect the secret chemistry of his- tory by which they have been sha- ped. In short, we may well doubt whether, if Christ had left the world and these institutions had not arisen, the deep and awful chasm between the life of this world and the life of faith ~vould ever have been practi- cally set open, to human apprehen- sion, as it now is. If, then, we do not prefer, just now, to commence building monasteries, or pi-aising the sanctity of the living monks, it should comfort us, if we can find any inlet for respect, in the history of their Origin. The ecclesiastical supremacy of the Pope, and the stern political uni- ty of the church under him, are quite as little respected by us, as they can be, but even these may yet be viewed in a similar light. The Romish church glories in the word catholic, understanding however, by that term, nothing different from a universal polity. It is not a world- religion, but an iron ceclesiasticism for the worldthe only possible church, thus and therefore the cath- olic church. Under this formal er- ror, it represents and holds before mankind a great and holy truth. It symbolizes unity and universality. And was it not necessary, when the free mind of the Protestant world fell off into contesting bodies and scouting parties, flying hither and thither in quest of truth, that some consolidated body should remain, to hold itself up as a symbol of the catholic unity, and recall the mind of the discursives to that which is the only proper aim and last end of their inquiries, a true catholic unity that which is never to be forgot- ten, always to be longed for, and, as soon as may he, to be realized. For, while Romanism stands for unity, and holds up its symbol, it has not yet conceived the idea of a true catholic church. No church is catholic, simply because it includes the human race; it must include them in the truthit must compre- bend them only as it is itself corn- prehiensive. Hence there is im- plied, as a necessary condition, so much of disintegration, as will start a discursive process and bring out all the antagonisms involved in a complete and many-sided view of the truth. For this many-sided view is not the view of any single man or body of men. God has it, for the absolute truth is in Him. We have it not, save by manifold experi- ment. Rome assumes that it has even absolute trath, without experi- ment, and, in that right, challenges the assent of all mankind. But this is only to claim a universal applica- tion for that which is itself partial which is not catholicity. True cath- olicity offers a universal doctrine, and for that seeks a universal appli- cation. The first problem is to find the universal doctrine, a problem which Protestantism is faithfully en- gaged to solve. For it is remarka- ble that, while the Romish church holds out the formal type or symbol of cathohicity in its discipline, Pro- testantism only supplies the agencies by which cathohicity may be reali- zed. By this only, in its free and discursive working, are brought to light and set up for distinct appre- hension, all the elements to be com- bined in the settlement of a univer- sal or complete body of truth. Ro- manism holds the mold of unity, and we are trying to fill it. And when the comprehensive process is 1848.] Christian Cornprehensiz~eness. 105 completed, by which the material we offer is brought into a common result, a true catholic church will appeara church including the free mind of the world, because it rep- resents the free mind of the world. All the views of all ages and schools being combined in a comprehensive result, that result will be the nearest approximation to the absolute truth of Godthus a fit ground of cath- ol ic it v. That the ~vhole Christian world, however, will ever fall under any form of strict ecclesiasticism, is hardly to he expected. A machine- ry so cumbrous could hardly be sup- potied, and it would offer incentives to human ambition, more inso ppOrt- able than the machinery itself. The Romanist ~vill, just now, think oth- erwise. Arnold and the Chevalier Bunsen will prophesy a church of the future whose organic polity is national. We republicans may imagine the same, only that the civil power will not intermeddle, save as it offers a friendly arotection to the church, repaid by its sanctifying presence and the union it conse- crates between the public life of the nation and God. Enough that the church, in ttll lands and under what- ever diversities, will know itself as one, 0 common works, a common faith, and an accordant worship the body of Christ on earth, the fullness of him that filleth all in all. And, having come to this, it will be strange, if it should not sometimes gather its ecumenical assemblies not as convocations of stute and church dignitaries like those of old time, deputed to legislate over the faith ; but assemblies of the friends and ministers of God, convoked to speak of things pertaining to the kingdom, and worship together be- fore the King. Arid if those mag- nificent piles, erected to God by the men of past ages, should some time hang their arches, like skies of stone, over the assembled messengers of the worlds churches, and shake with \oL. VI. 14 the sound of their ecumenical hymn, it will then be judged that the an- cient builders piled these holy struc- tures for a purpose worthy of their grandeur. Assembled thus in the grand cathedral of the North, it will not be forgotten that Protestantisrri and Romanism assisted both togeth- er in piling up so vast a fabric, and then the men ning of what was once a conjunction so strange will be sol- ved. The Three Kings then will sleep as consecrated figments in their shrine, blank nothings, lost to thought, betbre the Ring of glory. Or assembled where a Borromeo sleel)s encased in gold and gems, a real and true saint of the past, the past will be there, as a living power, repelled by no disdain, welcome to all hearts, and breathing into all a spirit of conscious unity with the buried just of all ages and climes. We are willing too that St. Peters should witness a convocation like this; for then the true idea of the catholic chtirch will have arrived at Rome. And if it may, for one such occasion, be accepted as the metrop- olis of the Christian world, edicts and bulls will no more be its de- light; the tiara will pass to the head of the King, where it belongs; of- ferings holicr than all incense will fill the place, and the grand misere- re of the nations, poured out as a ~vail for sin, will melt them into a fellowship so lowly that human di0 nities will be forgotten. And then we can not object if the Latin pray- ers, which embody the worship of past ages, should find their legiti- mate use, as a common language of devotion, for the assembled tongues of mankind. In offering these thoughts to the pubtic, ~~e are well aware that some may be scandalized or alarmed by their free spirit. But such will re- lieve their apprehensions, if they consider that ~ve ask no compromise of opinions and do not even speak of liberality as a special Christian vir 106 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. tue. We simply require it of all Christians to look for the truth, and the truth only. And if we require them to look beyond themselves and across their own boundaries, we see not that there is any thing specially frightful in this, if they look for nothing but the truth. Or if we prepare a previous conviction, in their minds, that there is somewhat of truth in all Christian bodies, does any one doubt that there is? And if it should happen that all these bodies look upon the truth on a side pecu- liar to themselves, what harm can it do us to pass round and look through their eyes? lhe method taken by the late Evangelical Alliance, at London, was truly a dangerous method and closely allied to licen- tiousness; for it chose out only common truths in which all the par- ties could agree, and consented to let all other truths pass into shade as of minor consequence. We re- cognize, contrary to this, the great principle that truth is a whole and is to be sought only as a wholeany where, every where and by all means. Let no one fear the de- bauching of his Christian integrity in so doing. Others probably will look upon our labor, in this matter, as a use- less expenditure of breath, and the hope we encourage as altogether visionary and romantic. It would be, if ~ve held the expectation that the church of God is ever to be- come a political unity. Or if we proposed to the Christian sects to come together and work out a com- prehensive unity, by any delibera- tive effort, in the manner of com- promise and composition. Or if we looked for the realization of any such result as we speak of, by any given method, within any given space of time. Our object is simply to set before the Christian sects the comfortable truth that our antago- nisms are, to a great degree, compre- hensibleparts only or partialities, having each their complement in all the others. Thus to beget a more fraternal feeling and soften the as- perities and prejudices that hold us asunder. Thus to set all thinking minds on an endeavor after the broadest and most catholic views of truth, in the confident hope that God will thus enlarge their souls, draw them together, towards a more com- plete brotherhood, and finally into a frill consent of worship. This, if we rightly understand, is what the Scrip- tures mean by seeing eye to eye. XVe now see shoulder to shoulder, hut when we can look into the eye, every man of his brothei, and see what he sees, we shall be one. And if any one asks, when shall these things be? we may well enough ref~r him to the geologists for an answer. For if God required long nges of heaving and fiery com- motion to settle the worlds layers into peace and habitable order, ~ve ought not utterly to despair, if the geologic era of the church covers a somewhat longer space of time, than we ourselves might prescribe. Enough for us that we show the laws of commotion and the methods of final pacification. Enough for us that the views we have advanced, if ac cepted and held by our fellow Chris- tians, will be found to contain the philosophic causes of a better day, drawing us all into a closer assimi- lation and, as sure as causes must have their effects, into a final em- brace in the truth. Confident of this, and leaving times and seasons to God, we do not seem to propose to the world unpractical schemes, or romantic expectations. This discussion we have already protracted beyond our ordinary lim- its, but the magnitude of the subject must be our excuse. There is yet a whole branch of it remaining un- touched, and one that would require a volume to gi e it a sufficient rep- resentation. It is thisto exhibit the laws and conditions under which the comprehensive process we speak 1848.] Christian Comprehensiveness. 107 of may be conducted to its results, with the greatest certainty and expe- dition. All we can do here, at pres- ent, is to offer a few suggestions. And, first of all, there needs to be a more comprehensive character formed in individual Christians. We must have a piety not of our church, or our catechIsm, or our baptism, or our Christian democracy, but a piety measured by God himself. We must look upon the comprehensive character as a Christian attainment. Such was the character of Christ, and therefore we must be as sure that he will have it formed in us, as that he will bring us into his own Image. God himself too, is a com- prehensive being in His character, so that coming unto Him, in the closest and most intimate union of spirit, which is the very idea of Christian piety, we must endeavor to partake of that quality which most distinguishes Him. For it is not some better philosophy generated in our understanding, that can work out, by itself, the process of which we speak. We must have a better philosophy in our heart and spirit, and this we must draw from God. We shall attain to no true compre- hensiveness, except as we find it in God; in the holier love which melts away our preludices, subordinates our human passions, expands the narrowness of our fallen nature, and makes us partake of the divine na- ture. This will universalize, first, our heart and, through that, gradu- ally, our understanding. We shall have a single eye, when we have a simple, godly heart. A really com- prehensive spirit, one all devoted to truth, stretching itself to contain all truth, as seen by all Christian minds, must be a religious spirit. Clearing itself of all human trammels, it must go up unto God himself; for no ~vhere short of God do the lines of truth meet and come into harmony, so that a mind may comprehend them. In Him, too, as we certainly k no~v, all our sects and divisions melt into unity. He is not the God of our sect. We dare not say it or think it. We tacitly admit that He holds some broader view, which is also, and for that reason, juster than ours. We do not doubt that he looks upon us all as diminished at- oms of intelligence, ranging in His infinite realm of truth, fixing here and there, upon our points of doc- trine, and regarding each the field that lies within his narrow horizon as the whole fieldrepugnant there- fore, as between ourselves, but still in radical harmony, as before Him. To such thoughts we are to accus- tom ourselves, to consecrate them in our prayers and nourish them be- fore Him, by a more conscious and habitual exercise. And if our piety does not enlarge as in this manner, we are rather to repent of it than to bless ourselves in it. But if God be in us, enlarging us by His own meas- ure and causing us to receive of His own greatness, then shall we cease to be straitened in ourselves, and be able to comprehend that length and breadth and depth and height, which it is the prerogative of His saints to do. It will help us also to remember that, as men or human creatures, our tendency is to err by narrow- ness and partiality, never by com- pleteness or comprehensiveness. We are not only finite, but we enter into life only as rudimental beings, here to be filled out into proper men. We are to study, reflect, observe, rectify errors, then to rectify rectifi- cations, and thus to fill out the char- acter of sons of God. Children, we observe, always go for extremes. They apprehend what they may, but in our sense of the word, comprehend nothino; and a very preponderant number of our race seem never to get beyond their childhood in this respect. Our very finiteness, strug~ gling after rest in the infinite, is obliged to seize on single points, and these glimmering points we take 108 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. for ~uns, partly because they are our seeing ond partly because they fill our vision. We are thus occupied, for the most part, with half-seeing. And having found some pole of truth or of duty, we go to war for that, as if our half truth were enti- tIed to fill and occupy the universe. Then again our passions carry us away yet farther, like a very great sail upon sonm feathery skiff, which the gusts drive hither and thither, and force upon the shallows when they will. The pride ~vhich says this is my truth, or our truth ; opinions held more firmly by the will, because they are so dimly seen by the understanding; the lust of power, the fanatical idolatry of sect, all the venomous snirits that hover in the steam of our carnal hearts, conspire to narrow even our piety itself. Evil is a perpetual astringent in our souls, and we can get no breadth, save as we mortify and cru- cify ourselves. These are truths which every Christian man must re- gard more attentively, than has yet been done, in any former age. They must enter into our practical life. We must habitually suspect ourselves of limitation. We must find the sect spirit in our nature, keeping close company with our sins and coiling itself also, as a serpent, round the body of our piety. And when this latter grows exclusive and re- pugnant, walling itself up to heaven in its righteousness, we must have it for a maxim that we are narrowing ourselves by the measure of our sins. Furthermore, it will be of great use, if we have some philosophic view of life and its appointments, that accords with Gods design there in. Lie has put us down in this many-sided world, where ~ll man- ner of contrary and controversial forces are pushing us hither and thither, that He may bring us into all possible views of truth and duty, cure our half-seeing, fill out our otherwise partial measure, and make us as nearly complete, as it is pos- sible for us to be. All that we see, hear, experience, in this multifari- ous world of struggle and (lebate, is undoubtedly meant to enlarge the comprehension of our mind, our l)rintciples, feelings, hopes, charities. Neither let any one shrink from such a thought, as one that is akin to laxity or licentiousness. There is a kind of liberalism, as ~ve have said, which is but another name for indifference to the truth. With such a spirit the comprehensive soul has no feeling of sympathy. It is, in fact, the type of character most of all devoted to truth, regarding it as the brightest beam of divinity tltat shines into our ~vorld. Therefore it reverently seeks the truth in all minds irradiated by its light, sepa- rates it from the errors with which it is blended, sanctifies it as holy and dear to God. On the other hand, i~ we speak of the partisan classes or schools, sometimes called illiberal, they who gather about some pole of doctrine, stiff foi- their particular sect, impatient of the least depart- ure from it, how manifest is it that these would rather die for half the truth, than for the whole. But the comprehensive spii-it seeks to com- prehend all repugnances, and lose, if possible, no shred of truth, wher- ever it may be found. Actuated by this lofty spirit, in which it resem- bles itself to God, it listens to all voices, searches out all forms of doctrine, proves all things and holds fast that which is good. Let no one fancy that he finds, in history, ex- mples to deter us from the indul- gence of such a spirit, as if it were the omen of a licentious age - for the history of man has never yet offered an example of the kind. There have been many attempts, in the Christian world, to bring about what is called, in the history, a com- prehension of sects and parties. And the best men of the church have been forward in them. Baxter, Howe, Dr. Watts, Lord King, Til 1848j Christian Comprehensiveness. 109 lotson, Patrick, and others of the highest distinction in our English race, have conceived the idea of a composition of sects, and labored in their time to bring it to passlabor- ed of course in vain; for they con- ceived no other method of compre- hension, than one that is to be real- ized immediately, by an act of con- sent. Their effort was to settle the church by concession, compromise, and a moderation of extremes, not to prepare the souls of all disciples, by a gradual process of enlarge- meat in the truth. Our Episcopal friends, too, sometimes delight to call their church The Comprehen- sive Church, gravely showing how many varieties of faith may be qui- etly harbored, and have been, under its convenient ambiguities! W epro- pose a method somewhat different from all these, and one, we think, which is as much more practicable, as it is less dangerous and further removed from licentiousness. At the same time, while we speak of it as a less dangerous method, we can not deny that it requires a much higher courage and firmness of suir- it; for it lays upon every man, as an individual, to begin with himself and trust his opinions to a law or process, which is higher than the law of any sect or school. And it is scarcely possible that one who is accustomed to handle all the great subjects of religious inquiry, in this method, and to work his mind by the process it prescribes, should not become a generally suspicious char- acter. But he must content him- self with the verdict of the future, not doubting that a spirit so imigenu- ous will some time be as much ap- proved by his i~llow Christians, as it certainly is by God himself. Mean- time, while resting himself in this manner on the truth of his own in- tentions, he will probably find also that he is delivered of an affliction which is the necessary torment of all mere partisans, dwelling in an element of composure which more than repays the distrusts of his sect. The sectarian or partisan is the man of a part, one who measures him- self by the contents of his sect, and not in reality by the truth itself. And as every partial view must have its antagonist, lie is doomed to un- dergo a perpetual anxiety for his po- sition. For, regarding it as the very truth itself, the complete truth of God, when he sees it assaulted by some adversary, as it certainly will be, he is filled with distressful anxi- ety lest the very foundations of the Gospel should finally give way or be corrupted. But the comprehen- sive method assists one to look on the two adverse parties as half- seeing men, who, if they see the whole truth between them, have vet the disadvantage that they see noib- trig as a whole. It is as if one saw the centrifugal and the other the at- tractive force of astronomy. One fears that the worlds will fly asun- der beyond all fellowship, the other shudders lest they rush into a grand heap of ruins in the center. But the man who can comprehend both forces, in a scientific view, rests in comfort on the balanced order of the worlds, knowing that nothing can ever disturb the sweet influences of Plciades, or burst the bands of Orion. In the same way it will ever be found that the men of a part or a sect are art uncomfortable and anx- ious race, living in perpetual panic, as if Gods realm of truth were just about to dissolve, because their truth is threatened by another which, for some reason, will have advocates as earnest as they. Put there is calm- ness, comfort, courage and rest for any comprehensive soul, knowing that if all together succeed, they will only suffice to fill out the measures of divine truth. We have spoken already of lan- guage, as the fruitful source of con- trary opinions and sects. If our schools of theology could, by three years of exercise ,get into the minds of their pupils a right understanding 110 Christian Comprehensiveness. [Jan. of this one single matterthe rela- tion of a thought to a wordthey would do more to quicken their in- telligence and prepare them to a skillful resolution of the great ques- tions pertaining to religion, than is often done by their whole course of discipline. This of itself would be the fruitful seed of a great and pow- erful theology. This only can open a true interpretation of Scripture, such as will suffice for a settlement of Christian doctrine. The Scrip- tures are the truth of God under the forms of language, and subject to its laws. No other hook contains a system of truth so complete and comprehensive as the Bible, and for that very reason it combines all re- pugnant modes of statement. View- ed in its forms of language, without descending into its interior meaning, it is the most contradictory of all books. It is the product of all ages, and represents all kinds of mental habit. It views every subject of truth and duty on every side, and sets it forth at every pole. It offers thus, to a perverse or insufficient in- terpretation, material for every sect. Logically treated and without any power of insight deeper than logic, sects are its legitimate products. We hear it said on every side, that there are no isms in the Bible. Rather should we say, which is the real truth, that all manner of isms are in itcomprehended there, finite in infinite, as we ourselves in God. Therefore ordy is it a com- plete and universal code of truth, worthy of its author. When the Christian scholars are able to (l~stin- guish between the forms of truth and truth itself, receiving the latter with- out l)eing enslaved by the laws of logic enveloped in the former, the true catholic doctrine will be seen nod the sects will disappear and die. Sooner they can not. It is of the highest consequence also that we should understand the true import of the Christian history, and discover what duty it has pre. pared for us. We mourn over the controversies and contentions which, up to this time, have rent, as we say, the unity and peace of the church of God. Many minds have lately been occupied with a peculiar grief on this account. See, they say, into how many sects and schools the body of our Lord is riven! And, if we look at the evil passions and bit- ter strifes involved, it is truly a mournful sight. But controversies must needs arise; in our view con- troversies were needed, else the manifold extremes of truth could never appear. It was necessary for the great champions to gird on their armor and take the field. It was necessary to see behind us a long line of militant ages, smoking in the dust of controversy and causing the air to ring with the blows of their valiant encounter. So of the sects that have multiplied upon us in these last ages. All these are but the preliminary work, necessary to be done in the trying out of Gods truth. In one view, there have never been too many controversies, arid are not now too many sects for taken together they are wanted, all, as a grand exhibit or practical display of the manifold extremes of truth. The first ages could not take up the comprehending of opposites, until the opposites were set forth; but they did what they could, they set them forth. A.nd now, in these last times, the result is to appear. What then is now to be done ? What does God require of us? Con- troversy? No, it is generally agreed that we have worn out controversy. What then? Must we learn to hold opinions more loosely, to be pa. tient with error, and content our- selves in it? No, persecution itself were a dignified compliment to Gods truth, in comparison with any such inanity as that. Do we then want a grand world-wide Alliance, in which all Christians will agree to agree, or if they can not do that, to controvert harmoniously? So many 1848.] Post- 9ffice Reform. 111 have thought, and they appear to fancy that when the Christian sects are strung together thus, like hells without a tongue, they ~vill ring the world a concert by their external impact. Doubtless it is well, if they only meet to pray together, and blend their hearts in communion before God. It is in itself a beauti- ful sight, and quite as beautiful in ~vhat it indicatesthe fact that now, at last, a comprehensive brotherhood in Christ has become a want. That want is above all things to be nour- ished. And being nourished, how shall it be guided to the attainment of its object? Not by selecting from the contents of our sects, and building up a union in diminished quantities of conviction. Every bell must have a tongue and a voice of its own. What we need is enlarged quantities of conviction, fullness of truth, not a compact based on half the quantity possessed by us now. We must take up the convict ion that we do not all together contain more than the truth, and the endeavor must be to end our strifes by such a kind of enlargement as will com- prehend all our antagonisms, and bring us into the essential unity of truth itself. We must have it as a settled conviction that in almost every form of Christian opinion earnestly maintained, even those which are often regarded as pure error, there is yet some element of truth, something which makes it true to its disciples. Then, laying aside all malice, our schools must go into the language, one of another, asking what makes it true to the school maintaining it, and thus we must proceed till all our antagonisms are sifted, and every school has gotten to itself the riches of all. Or, better still, admitting each that our wisdom is not perfect, that the truth we hold is only partial truth, we are to cher- ish the want of something more per- fect. And then, ceasing to insist that others shall receive and justify us, we are to ask what have they which is a want in us? What views of theirs, qualifying ours, would ren- der them more valuable to us? what contribution,accepted ofihem, woul& make us more complete in the rich- es of the Gospel ? Thus let Calvin- isrn take in Arminianism, Armini- anism Calvinism; let decrees take in contingency, contingency decrees; faith take in works, and works faith the old take in the new, the new the oldnot doubting that we shall be as much wiser as we are more com- prehensive, as much closer to unity as we have more of the truth. For then, as all are seen embracing and comprehending all, we shall find that we are one, not by virtue ofany concert or agreement, but as the necessary consequence of our com- pleteness in the truth. To be strung together in outward alliances will now be a vain thing; for all Chris- tian souls will ring in peals of har- mony, as a chime that is voiced by the truth. POST-OFFICE REFORM. FtVE years ago, before the sub- ject of a reform in our post-office system had excited public interest, we discussed the question at length in the first Article of this work, and gave some account of the new sys- tem which has been so successful in Great Britain. Two years later, the conviction had become xvell nigh universal in the northern states, that the postage system of this country was essen- tially defective and needed reform. Even the officials in Congress and the general post-office, had become convinced by the success of the ex

1848.] Post- 9ffice Reform. 111 have thought, and they appear to fancy that when the Christian sects are strung together thus, like hells without a tongue, they ~vill ring the world a concert by their external impact. Doubtless it is well, if they only meet to pray together, and blend their hearts in communion before God. It is in itself a beauti- ful sight, and quite as beautiful in ~vhat it indicatesthe fact that now, at last, a comprehensive brotherhood in Christ has become a want. That want is above all things to be nour- ished. And being nourished, how shall it be guided to the attainment of its object? Not by selecting from the contents of our sects, and building up a union in diminished quantities of conviction. Every bell must have a tongue and a voice of its own. What we need is enlarged quantities of conviction, fullness of truth, not a compact based on half the quantity possessed by us now. We must take up the convict ion that we do not all together contain more than the truth, and the endeavor must be to end our strifes by such a kind of enlargement as will com- prehend all our antagonisms, and bring us into the essential unity of truth itself. We must have it as a settled conviction that in almost every form of Christian opinion earnestly maintained, even those which are often regarded as pure error, there is yet some element of truth, something which makes it true to its disciples. Then, laying aside all malice, our schools must go into the language, one of another, asking what makes it true to the school maintaining it, and thus we must proceed till all our antagonisms are sifted, and every school has gotten to itself the riches of all. Or, better still, admitting each that our wisdom is not perfect, that the truth we hold is only partial truth, we are to cher- ish the want of something more per- fect. And then, ceasing to insist that others shall receive and justify us, we are to ask what have they which is a want in us? What views of theirs, qualifying ours, would ren- der them more valuable to us? what contribution,accepted ofihem, woul& make us more complete in the rich- es of the Gospel ? Thus let Calvin- isrn take in Arminianism, Armini- anism Calvinism; let decrees take in contingency, contingency decrees; faith take in works, and works faith the old take in the new, the new the oldnot doubting that we shall be as much wiser as we are more com- prehensive, as much closer to unity as we have more of the truth. For then, as all are seen embracing and comprehending all, we shall find that we are one, not by virtue ofany concert or agreement, but as the necessary consequence of our com- pleteness in the truth. To be strung together in outward alliances will now be a vain thing; for all Chris- tian souls will ring in peals of har- mony, as a chime that is voiced by the truth. POST-OFFICE REFORM. FtVE years ago, before the sub- ject of a reform in our post-office system had excited public interest, we discussed the question at length in the first Article of this work, and gave some account of the new sys- tem which has been so successful in Great Britain. Two years later, the conviction had become xvell nigh universal in the northern states, that the postage system of this country was essen- tially defective and needed reform. Even the officials in Congress and the general post-office, had become convinced by the success of the ex 112 Post- Qffice Reform. [Jan. presses and the independent mails, that the old system could not be car- ried on much longer, and that at least a considerable reduction of the rate of letter postage had become indispensable. All the devices of governmental oppression had been resorted to, with as much pertinacity as if ours were an arbitrary and not a popular government, to maintain the postage monopoly in the hands of the general post.office, and to prevent the people from getting their letters carried by private en- terprise at the rate which free com- petition would show it to be worth. But power was baffled, and at length it became plain to all that conces- sion must come. This concession, however, of cheaper pos!age, was made with the worst possible grace, and with every possible shift and contrivance to diminish its value to the people, and to secure, if possi- ble, the ill success of the reform. The new bill was first introduced into the Senate, by the chairman of the committee on the post-office, Mr. Merrick, of Maryland, and xvas avowedly aimed chiefly to crush the private mailsthe relief of the peo- ple being entirely a secondary mat- ter. There was one senator alone, who seemed to enter into the true spirit of the reforml\lr. Simmons, of Rhode Island, unfortunately no longer a public man. Mr. Niles, of Connecticut, was strongly in favor of it, and by his experience as a for- mer Postmuster General, was ena- bled to render essential service in effecting some valuable changes in the transportation of the mails; but the state of his health disabled him from taking the lea& After much debate, in which the chief display was of the little pains our legislators take to make themselves acquainted with facts and principles on a new subject, the bill was carried in the Senate, establishinQ a uniform rate of letter postage, at five cents per half ounce, irrespective of dis- Lance. When the bill came to the other house, it was so violently opposed, that there was at one time hardly a hope of its being passed at all. One of the chief objections to it, ~vas that it would break up nearly every stage route at the South, because stage-coaches there are only kept up by the exorbitant sums they receive for carrying small mails that might better be carried on horseback. At length, however, it was literally forced through the house, chiefly by the bold and determined spirit of George Rathbun, of New York; but not until a tool named MDow- elI, of Ohio, had adroitly slipped in an amendment, imposing double postage on all letters carried over three hundred miles. This bill, thus damaged, reduced the average rate of postage from fifteen cents to sev- en and a half, and established the capital principle of charging postage by weight, and not by the number of pieces of paper a letter may com- prise. This was, indeed, a great step towards simplification; although the bill contained many provisions that were vexatious and trouble- some both to the people and to the department. All the complica- tion of machinery was preserved, with additions involving both ex- pense and perplexity. Probably few acts have ever been passed by Congress, including so many incon- gruities and absurdities. Still it was a relief. But, as if to defeat if possible the hopes of the people, the new ad- ministration, then just coming in, consigned the management of the post-office to one of the most per- tinacious opponents of the reduc- tion,a man who had spared no pains to defeat it, and who had bold- ly predicted its failure. And in his first report to Congress, after a trial of only one quarter of a year, he did his best to restore several of the worst features of the old system, under the pretext that the new sys. tern had already failed. Fortunate- 1848.] Post- 9//ice Reform. 113 ly, the condition of Congress ren- ders it almost as difficult to repeal a good law, as it was to pass it; and hence our reduced postage has re- mained untouched, although it must he admitted that all the legislation since has been to increase the bur- den of postage. At length, howev- er, the increase of correspondence has been such, by the end of the second year, as almost to restore the former income of the department from letter postage, and we are surprised that the Postmaster Gen- eral himself is not already a con- vert to cheap postage, and desi- rous of securing to his administra- tion the glory of a still farther re- duction. But do as he may, it is evident that cheap postage has stood the test in this country, so far, under the awkward experiment made, as to re- move all apprehension of a return to the old and barbarous system. And there are many indications of a de- sire among the people for further improvement. Under these circum- stances, it is quite important to elu- cidate the principles on which such a reform should be based, to learn the rules by which it should be gov- erned. And here we have a mine of research opened to us in the inves- tigations which preceded and the re- sults which have followed the British system of postage. We know that an impression has been taken up, that Rowland Hills, or the British system, is not adapted to this coun- try. But we shall show on an ex- amination of the principles and re- sults of that system, that it is even more appropriate to the circum- stances of our own country than of Great Britain, and that its adoption here could not fail of producing still more wonderful results.* The impression that the British system is not adapted to our use, has been taken up without a due exam- ination of the subject. There are very few persons who are aware of the high scientific character of that system. It is founded on principles which were deduced by as patient study and as scientific induction as the use of steam or the magnetic telegraph. As a mere study, this system of postage may challenge attention. As a means for the ad- vancement of trade, of science, of morals, of civilization, of freedom, of social happiness in every condi- tion of life, it may justly be regarded as one of the great wonders and great glories of the age. A single circumstance will show the cogency of the proofs by which the new system must have been sustained. The British government lies under a debt of more than eight hundred millions of pounds sterling, and is constantly put to shifts to at- tain a sufficient revenue to keep down the interest In the year 1837, the net revenue derived from postage was 1,646,554; and in 1838 it was 1,656,993. The first year of the new system, it was only 447,664; a loss to the government of 1,209,329. Arguments of great power must have been presented, before the Government would aban- don a million and a quarter of rev- enue for the advancement of an ob- ject hitherto so little thought of as cheap postage. Mr. Rowland Hill, a gentleman destitute of all the advantages of so- cial position, literary fame, or offi- cial station, proposed his system to the public in an unpretending pam- phlet, in the year 1837. At that time he says he had never been within the walls of the post-office. The scheme rested solely on its mer- its. Without any of the aids which, * Although many of the facts relating to the British post-office system, now given, may be found in our first article, yet the repetition of them seems to be de- manded by the present state of the post- VOL. VI. 15 office question in this country. Presented by a new writer, at a time of intense pub- lic interest on the subject, it is to be hoped they will command more attention, and produce the desired effect. 114 Post- Office Reform. [Jan. in that country particularly, are supposed to be necessary to make a thing go, his proofs and argu- ments excited so much attention that before the end of 1838, a Par- liamentary Committee was raised to give the proposition a thorough ex- amination. The fruits of that ex- amination fill three folio volumes of Parliamentary Documents, made up of official state ments~ elaborate cal- culations, and the recorded testimo- ny of a great number of witnesses. So complete was the proof in favor of the new scheme, that it was adopted by the administration then in power, carried through Parlia- ment, and the necessary prepara- tions made for the new system to go into operation at the beginning of 1840. So great a change of govern- mental policy, effected by means so inadequate, and in the face of diffi- culties so formidable, can hardly be found in the annals of deliberative legislation. Mr. Hills attention was originally drawn to the defects of the 01(1 5y5. tern of postage, by the remarkable fact that for twenty years, com- mencing with 1815, there had been no increase of revenue from the post-office. It was deemed an im- portant branch of the revenue ; it might reasonably he expected to in- crease with the growth of the coun- try in population, trade, wealth, in- telligence, and general prosperity. But instead of this, the revenue had remained stationary. It was 1,557,291 in 1815; and it was but 1,540,300 in 1835. Mr. Hill con- structed the following table, com- paring the growth of population with the post-office revenue, showing what the latter would have been had it kept pace with the former, and how much was lost by its fail- ure so to do. Year Popula- Net post- doe rev.byl Loss. lion, age rev. populationl ________ 181519552.000 1,557,291 1,557,291 1820 20.928,000 1,479,547 1,877000 194,553 5825 22,362,000~ 1,670,219 1,789,000 118,781 1830 23,961,000~ 1,517,955 1,917,000 399,048 1835 25,605,0001 1,540,300 2,048,000 507,700 This is without making any allow. a~ce for the increasing intelligence and prosperity of the peol)le, and shows that the revenue fell short 507,700 of what it ought to have become by the mere increase of population. As a measure of the general prosperity, he then takes the tax on stage-coaches, and shows by Its continued increase, what otight to have been the increase of post- age, on the assumption, which is fully borne out hy other facts, that the demand for the conveyance of letters would naturally increase at least equally with the demand for the conveyance of persons. Net rlutyNelpost- Doe rev- Yr. on stage- age rev- cane in Loss. coaches. cone. proportion _______ 1815 217,671~1,557,291 1,557,291 - - 1820 273,477 1,479,547~ i,948,000~ 466453 5825 362,631 1,670,219 2,585,0001 9I4,78t~ 1830 418,598 1,517.952~ 2,990,000~ 1,472,048 1835 498,497 1,340,300 3,550.000~ 2,009,700 Thus, while the net revenue from the stage-coaches had increased 128 per cent. in 20 years, the postage revenue, which ought naturally to keep pace with it, had not increased at all. Hence the inference that the post-office lost two millions per annum, by its defective system as a source of revenuethat is, from its excessive rates of taxation, opera- ting as a prohibition of correspond. ence, or driving that correspondence into private or illicit channels. Mr. Hill expressed his belief that a reduction of the postage 40 or 50 per cent. would more than keep up the revenue to its actual height. He also stated as his opinion that there is a reduced rate of postage which would give the greater reve- enue named above, that is, three and a half millionsnot that the revenue would rise at once on the rednetion of the postage, but after some time it would advance to that amount. And he refers to many well known cases, where reduced duties have produced an increase of revenue. But it will be seen that eventually, this consideration of in- 1848j Post- Qifice Reform. 115 creasing the revenue of the post-of- flee, as a primary element to be re- garded, was laid entirely out of view, and the adoption of the plan, as well as its details, were settled entirely on other considerations than that of an increase of revenue, or even of keeping it up to its actual rate. This point is deserving of special notice, as a key to the whole of the subse- quent developments. in pursuing investigations on the subject, a practical difficulty was disclosed, which, if other considera- tions had not prevailed, must inter- fere very seriously with any plans for the increase of the postage rev- enue. It is thisthat the same multiplication of conveyances and facilities for travel, railroads, steam- boats, & c., which would create an in- crease of correspondence, increases in a still greater decree the oppor- tunities for evading any thing like a revenue postage, by the facilities both of practicing and concealing the transmission of letters by other channels than the mail. The penalty for carrying letters otherwise than by mail was five pounds. And yet it was demon. strated to the Committee, that the contraband conveyance of letters in many parts of the kingdom was six, ten, and even twenty fold greater than the mail conveyance. Mr. Hill says, in his evidence, that owing to the increase of popula- tion in the last twenty years, and to the increase of trade, and the gen- eral prosperity of the country, and still more perhaps to the extension of education, the number of letters annually written must have increased very greatly; but the number of let- ters passed through the post-office has not increased at all. lie in- formed the committee that it is a notorious fact, that all classes of so- ciety, from the highest to the lowest, excepting those only who are ex- empted from postage by parliamen- tary or official privilege, frequently send letters otherwise than through the post-office; there is hardly a carriage of any kind which runs along any of the roads, that does not carry a great many ; every parcel almost has letters inelosed ; steam- boats carry them ; the carriers who go from one town to another, take enormous numbers of letters ; in- deed, to evade postage, every possi- He expedient is resorted to. The evidence accumulated by the committee in support and illustration of these positions is overwhelming, and brought all classes of statesmen to the full conviction that even the British government, with its compact population, its parliamentary om- nipotence, its omnipresent police, was utterly unable to suppress or control the contraband letter-car- riage. The facilities were so enor- mous, the act itself so easy and nat- ural, so easily concealed, and so im- possible to be detected, except by a scrutiny which the government could not afford to maintain, and which the people never would sub- mit to, that it was idle to attempt coercing the subjection of the cor- respondence of the country to the control of the post-office. The evil would necessarily increase as cor- respondence increased, and as the utter impotence of the government in the matter became more palpable to all men. All these conclusions are fully applicable to the United States. There is no remedy but in a radical change of system, which we fortunately have, tried to our hand. The moral and commercial evils of a high rate of postage are admi- rably summed up in the following resolution of the Parliamentary Corn- inittee. There can be no question that all the same evils exist to an ex- tent nearly equal, in this country, from the same cause. It was to re- move these evils that the govern- ment of Great Britain, in its pa- rental care for the welfare of its subjects, adopted the system of uni- form and cheap postage, and mag 116 Post. Office Reform. [Jan. nanimously determined no longer to raise a paltry revenue by means in- volving so great an injury to the happiness of the people. Many of these interests, it must be admitted, in their ordinary aspects come more properly under the cognizance and care of the state governments. But it is respectfully submitted that so far as they are to be effected by the rates of postage, the federal govern- merit alone is capable of affording the desired relief. Especially there- fore does it become Congress so to legislate in its exclusive province, as not to inflict or perpetuate the inju- ries now experienced from the ex- isting system of postage. It is also respectfully represented, that the high rate of postage is now de- fended solely on the ground of its being necessary to enable the gov- ernment to extend certain benefits to certain portions of the commu- nity, at the expense of the letter correspondence of the mass of citi- zens. Surely if Congress has the right to extend these benefits, to make these largesses in the way of franking privileges, newspaper cir- culation, and unproductive mails, it has both the power and the right to pay the expense of its liberality out of the public treasury; and there- fore the right to take off its heavy hand from the letter correspondence now so much oppressed. The sec- ond resolution of the Parliamentary Committee is as follows: Moral and Commercial Erils of the present high rates of PostageThat it is the opinion of this Committee, that the evidence taken before them abundantly proves that the present high rates of post- age are extremely injurious to all classes, both in their individual and social capa- city, interfering as they do with their pro- gress in moral aud intellectual improve- ment, and, in some degree, with their physical welfare: Also, that these rates, by restricting the transmission of letters of advice, in- voices, orders, & c., produce a most seri- ous injury to commerce, and consequently to national prosperity: That, by checking communication be- tween persons interested in the same ob ject, or engaged in the same pursuit, they tend greatly to retard the progress of the nation in art and science: rhat by circumscribing the operations of the different societies instituted for the spread of religion, the advancement of morality, arid the promotion of charitable objects, they have an injurious effect on the character of the poorer classes, and also interfere with their domestic com- forts That independently of theit more di- rect effect on the progress and dissemina- tiori of knowledge, they tend also, by the obstacles they oppose to the writing and publication of books, to limit arid deterio- rate education: That they operate to the prejudice of health, by preventing the transmission of medical advice, arid of lyiuph for vaccin- ation: That by occasioning increased ex- pense or delay submitted to for the sake of avoiding expense, they interfere to a serious extent with legal professional cor- respondence That they either act as a grievous tax on the poor, causing thieni to sacrifice their little earnings to the pleasure or advan- tage of corre spon(ting with their distant friends, or compel them to forego such in- tercourse altogether; thus subtractingfrom the small amount of their erijoymuents, and obstructing the growth and mainten- ance of their best affections: Lastlythat they lead to the most ex- tensive violations or evasions of the stat- utes for the protection of the post-office revenue, and thus impair that habitual re- spect for the law, which it should be one of the first aims ofan enlightened legisla- ture to secure. In this country ptior to the late partial and inadequate reform, let- ters were taxed at nearly the same rate that formerly prevailed in Eng- land, by a scule constructed on the same principles, and the tax upon letters had the same deadening effect upon business and social happiness that was complained of in that coun- try. There was not one evil ex- posed there, which has not its coun- terpart here. On this point, Dr. Lardner told the committee in his evidence It is obvious that a (heap postage woutd produce a great effect on commerce and civilization. In fact, I look upon the post-office revenue to be a most iniquitous tax upon the affections, the morals, upon every social good, and tpon every thing that is desirable among a people in a state 1848.1 Post- Office Reform. 117 of progressive civilization. It is a tax on knowled~e ataxon literature. I think science, and a tax on that the post-office should be used merely as the instrument of intercommunication. I look unon a tax upon correspondence to he the same as a tax would he upon speech. If you made a person pay for every word he ut- tered, and for every word he heard, it would he exactly the same species of im- 1)ost; correspondence hy letter is only an- other way of speaking and hearing. To thc question proposed by one of the committee, Is a tax on bread or a tax on letters the most oppres- sive on the people ? he replied I think a tax on bread is the worst; but postage is a tax on the bread of the mind. It is not a tax lie says, on the poorer classes of society solely, because the poorer classes will not pay it; they will not correspond, or rather, they can not correspond, and therefore you extin- guish their affections and gain nothing. Lord Ashburton said in his evi- dence 1 have always thought it a very bad means of raising the revenue; I think it is one of the worst of our taxes. We have unfortunately many taxes which have an iniurious tendency; but I think few, if any, have so injurious a tendency as the tax upon the communication by let- ters. I can not doubt that a tax upon communication by letter must bear hardly it is in fact tax upon commerce , . ingthe conversation of the people who live at a distance hom each other. You might as well tax words spoken upon the Royal Exchange. But all such speculations are put at rest, in this country, by a single fact now obvious, that THE BUSINE55 OF TIlE COUNTRY WILL NOT PAY THE TAX. They believe it to be both unjust and unwise, and injurious to the general welfare as well as their own interests; they have found out how easy it is, and how many ways there are to evade postage. The general opinion that postage is op- pressive and that the administration of the department is overbearing and tyrannical, has withdrawn from it the protection of the moral sense of the community; there is no longer a disrepute in sending letters out of the mail, but on the contrary, men make a merit of it, and call it patri otic to use every expedient to avoid contributing to the support of the post-office. And the current, which is thus set, can not be turned back by coercive penalties; nor the de- partmnent restored to public favor, except by a very great reduction. The department can not be made to support itself. It must be supported by the treasury, if it remains as at present; it would be no more than that, if the, postage were reduced to the wishes of the people. But in the latter case, the highest duty of a republican government would have been discharged by the richest boon bestowed upon the peopleequiva- lent, practically, to THE FRANKING PRIVILEGE FOR EVERY MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD. TO carry the post-office through, on the present system, will make it a perpetual charge upon the treasury, growing more and more burdensome in proportion as the fa- cilities of intercourse increase among the people. To reduce the postage to the lowest point is the sure way to lay the foundation for a lasting growth, which would be sure, at no distant day, of relieving the treasury even from the expense of extending the mails among the new settlers of the frontiers. Even if the post-office could be made to support itself, the constitu- tion, which empowers Congress to establish post-offices and post-roads, has made this government justly re- sponsible for the wise and efficient management of that great trust, in such a manner as to answer the ends of its institution, in the universal dif- fusion of information over the whole country, by the mails. If that can be done, well and wisely, without a charge upon the treasury, let it be done so; but do not let Congress, which spends millions and tens of millions upon the land office, the fortifications, light-houses, & c. & c., allow the post-office to languish or its benefits to be rendered partial, barely because doing its duty will bring a charge on the treasury. 118 Post- Office Reform. [Jan. The people must have mails, as long as Congress has a dollar at its dis- posal from any quarter to pay the expense. The constitution has enjoined it upon the federal government to see to it that these advantages are secur- ed to the people. It has not limited the resources of Congress for this object to the income derived from postage. If it is made apparent that the revenue from that source is not and can not be made sufficient to meet the reasonable wants of the people in this respect, Congress is not thereby exonerated from its trust. The people must have mails, not- withstanding; and the means must be drawn from the general treasury. In respect to the true measure of the rate of postage, the parliamen- tary committee spent much labor, and their conclusions have the clear- ness and certainty of mathematics. The tables and calculations bearing on this point, fill sixteen pages of the appendix to the report. They found that the letters chargeable with postage made up only one-fifth of the weight of the mailsthe re- mainder being composed of news- papers and franked letters or docu- ments. In point of numbers, the chargeable letters made three-fifths of the whole. The letters therefore should be charged one-fifth of the transportation, and three-fifths of the cost of receiving, mailing, sorting and delivering. The whole cost of the post-office was found to be di- visible thustwo-fifths for transpor- tation, two- fifths for management, and one-fifth for miscellaneous char- ges. The actual cost of the letters is then expressed by the formula ~ of ~ + ~ of~A~32percent. The remaining 68 per cent. of the expense of the post-office, they found was a tax imposed upon the letters, to pay for the free distribu- tion of the newspapers and franked letters and documents. To this was added, in England, an additional tax of 236 per cent. for revenue to the government. Of the whole sum paid for postage, the actual cost of the letters was only 9~ pdr cent., and the tax was nine-fold the actual cost. This showed the injustice and the impolicy of taxing the corres- pondence of the country 900 per cent. on its cost This tax, in Eng- land, served a threefold purpose, viz, paying the expense of the news- papers, paying for the franks, and affording a revenue to the govern. ment. In this country, our letters are taxed in like manner for a three- fold purpose, viz, to enahle the gov- ernment to frank, to enable the gov- ernment to convey newspapers and periodicals under the actual cost, and to enable the government to do its constitutional duty in furnishing the advantages of the mail to the thinly settled parts of the country and the new states. There is no difference in principle, whether the letters are taxedjo enable the government to defray its general expenses, or whether the avails of this tax are kept in a separate treasury, and ap- propriated to a specific object of governmental expenditure, called for by the general good. Another series of calculations showed that the actual cost of transit of a letter from London to Edin- burgh was only one-ninth of a far- thing, and that this was also the av- erage cost, per letter, of all the let- ter mails in the United Kingdom. It is easily seen that where this is the average cost of the whole, it is impossible to vary the rates accord- ing to distance, by any scale that would be of any practicable utility. And if we take any particular route, we shall find that the actual cost per letter varies not directly according to the distance, but inversely as the number of letters. For instance, if in a given route, of one hundred miles, the cost of carrying the mail is one dollar per mile, then the cost per letter for the distance would be ten dollars each, if no more than ten letters were carried; would be 1848j Post- Oftice Reform. 119 one dollar each, if one hundred were carried; would be ten cents each, if one thousand were carried; and would he one cent each if ten thousand were carried. Should any one ima me that the additional weight would involve increased ex- pense, let him consider that the en- tire weight often thousand letters, at the average of a quarter of an ounce, would be only one hundred and fifty-six pounds and a quarter; that one-half of the actual cost ex- pended in the posting of letters, is for the office servicethat is, for receiving, mailing and distributing; which is the same whatever be the distance. It follows that if any dif- ference should be made in the post- age of letters, to be exactly just to all parties it should vary not accord- ing to distance, but inversely ac- cording to the number of letters, ri- sing in p1-ice on those routes which have the fewest letters. But this is manifestly impracticable. There- fore the question of distance is to be laid entirely out of view, in de- termining what is the just rate of postage, and we see that a uniform rate is the nearest to exact justice of any rule that can be devised. This subject of distances is the great sticking point in American minds, in applying the results of the British system to our own country we therefore present it in another point of view. Suppose the gov- ernment first to establish a mail be- tween two of the cities, say Boston and New York, such a mail being required by the wants of the people of those two towns, without refer- ence to any places beyond. For the same reason, you afterwards es- tablish a mail between New York and Philadelphia, solely to accom- modate the correspondence between those two places. Thea you find that Boston and Philadelphia also have occasion for correspondence with each other. It is easy to see that it would cost no more to carry the mails than it did before, because the weight of the letters is of no moment. In like manner, you may extend mails from point to point to any extent, provided each separate route is itself a productive one; that is, if the route furnishes letters enough to support itself. In this way it is proved that it makes no assignable difference in the expense to the department, whether a letter is carried from Boston to New York, or from Boston to New Orleans. This illustration will help us to get hold of the distinction between carrying the mail and carrying in- dividual letters in the mail. The government establishes a mail over a certain route, and this mail is to pass at regular intervals, whether the number of letters be great or small. In this great country, where we have so many magnifj- cent distances, it necessarily fol- lows that if the inhabitants generally are to have mail accommodations, it must be at the expense of the government. In a country so close- ly settled as England, perhaps there are few or no routes which do not pay theirown expenses; while here, the number of unproductive routes must be very great. We wish some member of Congress would move a call upon the department for a re- turn of all the unproductive routes. To us it appears clear that the ex- pense of these unproductive routes ought to be paid out of the treasu- ry, as justly as the expense of build- ing a light-house or deepening a har- bor. Then there would be no ob- jection or difficulty in the way of applying all the reasoning and all the results of the British system to our own case. We have said nothing in refer- ence to the fact that while the strongest opposition to cheap post- age comes from the South, it is the North that pays the chief part of the postage, and it is in the South that we find the greatest number of un- productive routes, and the chief dif- ficulty in making the post-office pay 120 Post- Office Reform. [Jan. its expenses. We do not wish this movement to he entangled with any hostile considerations whatever. And as to the maintenance of such routes at the South, we but speak the general sentiment of the North in declaring, that we are ready to go to the utmost hounds of reasonable requirement in maintaining as many mail routes in the South as the peo- ple desireonly let the money he taken from the common stock of the general treasury, because the thread- ing of the South with mail routes is a great national interest, having no necessary connection with our en- joyment of cheap postage. If noth- ing less will satisfy the South, let the hill contain a pledge that the ex- tent of mails in any State shall not be diminished from the present ra- t~o, hut shall he increased at least equal to the increase of population. The immense social and moral benefits to he expected from cheap postagethe benefits already expe- rienced in another countrythe se- curity given to the rights of the peo- ple, to the public peace, to liberty, and to the Union, are subjects re- served for another article, unless Congress should for once make so much haste to do right, as to leave us no opportunity of further ar- gu ment. We should like to show in some detail, the advantages of a strictly uniform rate of postage, from the great simplicity which it would give to the keeping of accounts. It would save the services of at least one half of the clerks in the accounting bu- reau at Washington. It would save one or more clerks in the post-office of every large town. It would ren- der the keeping of a country post- office so easy and simple, that it might be clone by some plain me- chanic or some dealer in small wares, who could be well paid for the trouble with a far less sum than country postmasters now receive. It would close the door against in- numerable frauds. By introducing small stamps for postage, and hav- ing all letters pre.paid, the mails would be relieved of a large share of the dead letters now so burden. so me. The scale of postage in England is one penny sterling for every half ounce. This is the only rule they have. Pamphlets, if sent by mail, pay at that rate. Newspapers are printed on stamped paper, the gov- ernment receiving one penny for each stamp, and then the newspa- pers go postage free. They may be mailed and remailed a dozen times, if you choose, but they are never charged with any postage. Newspapers printed on unstamped paper pay the same as letters, Id. per half ounce. Nothing can be more simple. All postages must be pre- paid or they are charged double. By this simple principle they secure the pre.payment of about ninety- seven hundredths of all the postage. That is the British system. We believe the only question in regard to our adoption of the British system, so far as letters are con- cerned, is on the rate, whether it shall be two cents per half ounce, which is very nearly the same with the British, or whether it should go still lower, and approach still nearer to a universal power of franking, by making the postage only one cent per half ounce. With regard to newspapers, our plan would be this. 1. That all newspapers sent to regular subscribers should be char- ged one cent postage, payable quar- terly in advance, and none should continue to be sent unless so paid. 2. That all transient newspapers should be charged as single letters two cents postage if pre.paid, and doubled if sent unpaid. Our representatives in the 30th Congress will do a greater service to their country by introducing this system, than by any thing else they can possibly attempt, except by the termination of the war with Mexico. l848.j Bushnell on Christian Nurture. 121 BUSHNELL ON CHRiSTIAN NURTURE.* IN our last number we gave a hasty notice of the Ne~v Theolog- ical Controversy, which had origin- ated in the publication of Dr. Bush- nells two Discourses on Christian Nurture, and which then seemed likely to continue. Since that time, there has been but little progress in the discussion, and as far as publications are con- cerned, the staus belli is very nearly as we left it. The Committee of the Massachusetts Sabbath School Soci- ety have not seen fit to take any public notice of the Argument addressed to them. Meanwhile the author has assumed to himself the copyright which he never wholly relinquished, and has issued in a vol- ume, the Discourses, the Argu- ment, and other productions that are related to the subject in discussion. These are, an article on the Spir- itual Economy of Revivals, first published in the Christian Spectator for 1838; another entitled Growth not Conquest the true method of Christian l~rogress, which originally appeared in the Nexv Englander for 1844, under another title; and two sermons, now published for the first time, one entitled the Organic unity of the family, and the other, the scene of the Pentecost and a Chris- tian Parish. The design of this additional matter, was to explain, to vindicate, and to qualify the posi- tions advanced in the Discourses and the Argument. The volume is sub- stantially otte, having one object and being sustained by the same consid- erations; all of which are suggested or tmplied in the original discourses. The discourses give us the substance of the entire volume. The addi- tional essays, & c., are but an ex pansion and defense of its l)riaCiPleS and arguments. We do not propose to give an ex- tended account of this volume. Nor do ~ve think it necessary for the pur- pose which we have in view in this discussion. That it shows on every page the attractions peculiar to its author, we need not say. Our con- stant readers are too familiar with these attractions to require that they should be commented upon by us. These readers also know that Dr. Bushnell, as one associated in the conduct of this journal, is a writer and a man whose aid we value most high 1)7, and on whom we very much rely. We are very willing, too, to have them suppose, that ~ve should be inclined to bestow a friendly and perhaps a partial criticism upon any of his productions. We should be quite ashamed to be supposed capable of any other feelings. At the same time, we are not willing to confess ourselves conscious of arty deficiency in the purpose to judge of his posi- tions and argume ntsinanyotherthan the light of truth, or to withhold from them a full and unbiased scru- tiny. Without premisingany fartlter, we enter at once into the critical ex- amination which we have proposed, following our own order of thought. We inquire at the outsetWhat is the truth that is advttnced and de- fended by the author? To this in- quiry, he has given a distinct an- swer. The doctrine of the original discourses is thus announced in his own language. Assuming then the question above stated, What is the true idea of Christian education? I answer in the following proposi- tion, which it will be the aim of my arguments to establish, viz: THAT THE CHiLD 15 TO GROW UP A CHRIS- TIAN. In other words, the aim, ef- fort and expectation should be, not, as is commonly assumed, that the Views of Christian Nurture, and of subjects adjacent thereto; by Horace Bushneti. l2rno,pp.247. Hartford: Ed- win Hunt 1847. Vom. VI. 16

l848.j Bushnell on Christian Nurture. 121 BUSHNELL ON CHRiSTIAN NURTURE.* IN our last number we gave a hasty notice of the Ne~v Theolog- ical Controversy, which had origin- ated in the publication of Dr. Bush- nells two Discourses on Christian Nurture, and which then seemed likely to continue. Since that time, there has been but little progress in the discussion, and as far as publications are con- cerned, the staus belli is very nearly as we left it. The Committee of the Massachusetts Sabbath School Soci- ety have not seen fit to take any public notice of the Argument addressed to them. Meanwhile the author has assumed to himself the copyright which he never wholly relinquished, and has issued in a vol- ume, the Discourses, the Argu- ment, and other productions that are related to the subject in discussion. These are, an article on the Spir- itual Economy of Revivals, first published in the Christian Spectator for 1838; another entitled Growth not Conquest the true method of Christian l~rogress, which originally appeared in the Nexv Englander for 1844, under another title; and two sermons, now published for the first time, one entitled the Organic unity of the family, and the other, the scene of the Pentecost and a Chris- tian Parish. The design of this additional matter, was to explain, to vindicate, and to qualify the posi- tions advanced in the Discourses and the Argument. The volume is sub- stantially otte, having one object and being sustained by the same consid- erations; all of which are suggested or tmplied in the original discourses. The discourses give us the substance of the entire volume. The addi- tional essays, & c., are but an ex pansion and defense of its l)riaCiPleS and arguments. We do not propose to give an ex- tended account of this volume. Nor do ~ve think it necessary for the pur- pose which we have in view in this discussion. That it shows on every page the attractions peculiar to its author, we need not say. Our con- stant readers are too familiar with these attractions to require that they should be commented upon by us. These readers also know that Dr. Bushnell, as one associated in the conduct of this journal, is a writer and a man whose aid we value most high 1)7, and on whom we very much rely. We are very willing, too, to have them suppose, that ~ve should be inclined to bestow a friendly and perhaps a partial criticism upon any of his productions. We should be quite ashamed to be supposed capable of any other feelings. At the same time, we are not willing to confess ourselves conscious of arty deficiency in the purpose to judge of his posi- tions and argume ntsinanyotherthan the light of truth, or to withhold from them a full and unbiased scru- tiny. Without premisingany fartlter, we enter at once into the critical ex- amination which we have proposed, following our own order of thought. We inquire at the outsetWhat is the truth that is advttnced and de- fended by the author? To this in- quiry, he has given a distinct an- swer. The doctrine of the original discourses is thus announced in his own language. Assuming then the question above stated, What is the true idea of Christian education? I answer in the following proposi- tion, which it will be the aim of my arguments to establish, viz: THAT THE CHiLD 15 TO GROW UP A CHRIS- TIAN. In other words, the aim, ef- fort and expectation should be, not, as is commonly assumed, that the Views of Christian Nurture, and of subjects adjacent thereto; by Horace Bushneti. l2rno,pp.247. Hartford: Ed- win Hunt 1847. Vom. VI. 16 122 Bushnell on Christian Nurture. [Jan. child is to grow up in sin, to be con- verted, after he comes to a mature age; but that he is to open on the world as one that is spiritually re- ne~ved, not remembering the time when he went through a technical experience, but seeming rather to have loved what is good from his earliest years.p. 6. The proposition announced in these words seems to us to be sufli- ciently clear and intelligible. It speaks its meaning for itself. To avoid any possible debate or confu- sion, we add that it is in form a prac- tical proposition, or a proposition concerning a duty. The duty is that Christian parents and teachers should aim, strive and expect, to realize a (riven result. That result is, that the child is to grow up a Christian. The reality and the ob- ligation of the duty, will of course turn upon a question of fact. That question is, whether the result con- teml)lnted is both possible and at- tainable. This is the only question about which there is or can be any difference of opinion, and the whole discussion is entirely concerned with this question of truth or of fact. No man will deny or question, if the imf)lied truth thus contended for by Dr. Bushnell is established, that the consequent duty will follow. The proposition actually discussed is one of fact. The author contends that a child can and may be expected to grow up a Christian. The great question about which he concerns himsetf, is the question of the truth or falsehood of this position. Vie inquire next, whether there is any thing new or peculiar in this position which Dr. B. takes and de- fends? We raise this inquiry, be- cause the author contends that it is peculiar, in distinction from that which he supposes his readers to holdand in distinction also from the view current among the church- es; and that therefore it will be con- sidered by them as new, though in- asmuch as it has been recognized in other countries and at other times, it is not new. We raise it also for another reason. There is a cer- tain class of critics, whose wisdom is often exhausted by the very pithy observation on a doctrine, which they are unable or are indisposed to canvass, that whatever is new in it is not true, and whatever is true is not new. For this common de- cision of cautious and non-committal wisdom, we have very little respect, albeit it constitutes the entire stock of many who are cried up as oracles for safety and profoundness. It is with an eye to them that we propose the question, whether ther