Bx «yii) .U3 i«yu V.4 — ' Dabney, Robert Lewis, 1820- 1898. Discussions j^. X. 'DaSney. DISCUSSIONS Robert L. Dabney, d. d., ll d. RECENTLY PROFESSOK OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS, AND FOR MANY YEARS PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY IN UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY IN VIRGINIA. EDITED ]5V C. R. V AUG HAN, D. D. PliOFKSSOH OK TIIKOr.OfiY INfNION TIIKdI.txaCAL SKMINAKY. VIK(;iXI.V. VOL. I V. SECULAR. CRESCENT BOOK HOUSE Mexico, Mo 1897. Copyritrht by S. B. ERVIN. Mexico. Mo. 1W7. PUBLISHER'S PREFACE. This volume of Dr. Dabney's "Selected Discus- sions," is the last of the four orig'inally contemplated. Though it is called •'Secular/' because a large proportion of the articles are of a secular character; yet doubtless it will be all the more appreciated because of the greater variety given in the addition of a goodly number of relig- ious articles and poems. He who has either of these volumes has a mine of thought in which to delve: he who has all has a reservoir of intellectual and spiritual food seldom equaled in the writings of any one man. S. B. Ervin. COXTEXTS. PAGE The New South. ....... 1 Letter to 0. 0. Howard, Chief of Freedmex's Bureau, 25 Abstractionists, . . . . . ' . 46 Crimes of Philanthropy. ..... 53 Defense of Dr. Dabnevs Narrative of the First Battle of Manassas, ....... 71 Narrative of Col. J. B. Baldwin, of his Secret Interview with Abraham Lincoln in 1861. Disclosing the Origin of the V/ar. 87 The Real Cause of the War, . 101 The Duty of the Hour. ..... 108 The United States as a Military Nation, . . . 123 Stonewall Jackson, Lecture. ..... 149 The Ne(;ro and the Common School, .... 176 The State Free School Syste.m Imposed upon Virginia by the Underwood Constitution. ..... 191 Secularized Education. ...... 225 Review of "Wilson's Slave Power in America,"' . - . 248 State Free Schools, ...... 260 Commendation of the Study of Philosophy, Lecture, . . 281 Labor Unions, the Strike and the Commune, . . 294 Depression OF American Farmino Interests, . . 321 The Dollar of the Daddies. ..... 341 Economic Effects of the Former L-a.bor System of the South- ern United St.\tes. ..... 354 Memoirs of Francis S. Sampson, D. D., . . . . 392 True Courage. A Memorial Sermon on the Death of General T. J. Jackson, June, 1863. ...... 435 A Memorial of Lieut. Col. John T. Thornton of the Third Virginia t^avalry, C. S. A . . 453 Nature Cannot Revolutionize Nature, . . . 470 Samuel C. Anderson, of Prince Edward. .... 476 Women's Rights Women, ...... 489 Latest Infidelity. A Reply to Ingersolls Position, . 506 The ATTR.A.CTI0NS of Popery, ..... 540 The Influence of False Philosophies upon Ch.\racter and Conduct, ....... 568 San Marcus River. ...... 577 Death of Moses. ....... 579 B.A.PTISMAL Hy.mn. A Monody. The Dying Christian, . 584 A Sonnet to Lee, ...... . 587 Gen'l T- J. Jackson. An Elegy, ... . . 588 Annihilation. ... .... 594 First Texas Brigade at the Wilderness, . . . 598 THE NEW SOUTH. A Discourse delivered at the Annual Commencement of Hampden Sidney College, June 15, 1882, before the Philanthropic and Union Literary Societies. Yoiino- Geurlenieii of the rhilaiirhropic and Union Societies, And Ladies and Gentlemen of the Audience: You will credit my expression of sincere embarrassment at this time when you consider that I am attemptino- a species of discourse somewhat unwonted to a preaclier of the (Jospel. and yet more, that I am placed here only as a species of Lirnier Res- sort. We all had hopes that another gentleman would repre- sent the two Literary Societies, better fitted to entertain and instruct this assemblage. But disappointment left the place, at a very late jieriod, unfilled, and we were threatened with having this imjiartaut part of our literary anniversary left a mere blank. I stand here, therefore, in the formula of your ex- ercises very much in the place of that "infinitesimal quantity," which the algebraist places equal to zero in his e(]uation. with- out appreciable error. This fact might have led me to decline the untimely etfort. but we who are passing off the stage of public action owe a sym})athy to the young who are entering on it, which should forbid our withholding any service or evidence of affection they may ask of us. It is this which has forbidden my saying No to yaur request. In your case there is another weighty consideration which ought to reinforce your claim on us for a deep sympathy. This is found in the momentous difficulties of the Arena on which the young men af the coming generation are called to act their part. And yet another thought crosses the mind. Ought the knowledge of the difficulties which are before you to stimulate the expression of our interest, or ought it to dictate a modesty, which should silence us as advisers of ;)ur young countrymen? For it is by our hands that these ci-uel conditions of youi' life- problem have been transmitted to vou. The heritage of freedom 2 THE NEW SOUTH. >.uicli our fathers left us, we have not been able to bequeath to you. As memory reYerts to my youth, when I stood where you now stand, it presents a contrast which might well seal my lips with grief and shame. Then my honored father and grand- father were just going oft the stage, the one a soldier of the first war which won our independence, and the other of the sec- ond war which confirmed it, both examples of that citizen boi- diery which had been the glory of America, plain, simple, un- pretending, but incorruptible. And Virginia the.i stood. v» ith untarnished escutcheon, poor indeed from the burdens of two wars, and the legislative exactions of her partners in the Union, clad mostly in homespun, but still the "great and unterrified commonwealth" which extorted this tribute from Cornwallis in his hour of victory: ''mother of Statesmen and States," whose humblest citizen knew no master except God and the law of his own State's election, whose banner had never trailed before a conqueror, by whom no federal obligation had ever been dis- honored, and no creditor ever defrauded of one penny; with a credit as solid as gold in the emporiums of trade; the firm and prudent mediator between federal power and the too impatient spirit of her sisters. Thus did our fathers transmit Virginia to our guardianship, the warrior-virgin, like the Pallas-Athene of Phidias, as she stood before the Parthenon, flashing the rad- iance of her golden helm and full-orbed shield across the Saronic gulf and Aegina and Salamis, to far off Maegara and Argos. But we, vac nobis miserrimisl deliver her over to you, not. How? a pallid, w^oful widow, deflowered by subjugation, dis- membered of her fair proportions, her weeds besmirched even by her own sons, virtually governed by the votes of an alien and barbarous horde, forced into her bosom by her late partners, now her ravagers, against her constant protest! As I rememiber this I ask myself, should not men who have so failed in their charge, who have suffered the glorious heritage of their fathers to be so marred in their hands, cover their faces and be silent? But our sons, whom our weakness, or else our hard fate, has left disinherited, seem not to be ashamed of us! They ask, they encourage us to speak. This is my apology for presuming to speak to-day to the "New South," and of the New South. THE NEW SOUTH. ^ Oni- otlier apology is, that in the endeavor ta save the liberties transmitted by our fathers, we did what we could. And in proof of this justifying- plea, we can point to the forms prema- turely bent, and the heads whitened by fatigue and camp dis- eases, to the empty sleeves, and wooden legs, and tD the Con- federate graves so thickly strewn over the land. Our apology is, again, that while we were contending for the rights and inter- ests of the civilized world, nearly the whole world blindly and passionately arrayed itself against us. Such was the strange I)ermission of l^rovidence, that we, while defending the cause of all, should be slandered and misunderstood by all. But why should I say this fearful dispensation was strange? when we see that from the days of the Christian martyrs until now, mankind have usually resisted and sought to destroy its true benefactors. So it was; we had the world against us. There was, after all, little exaggeration in the description which the Confederate soldier at Missionary Ridge, with the humorous exaggeration of his class, gave of his own case. Said he: No misgi^ang of our linal delivery had ever disturbed him until at the early dawn of that disastrous battle, as he was standing post on the advanced picket on Lookout Mountain, just when the stars were beginning to pale before the grey dawn, and all na- ture stood hushed in expectancy of the coming king of day, the solemn silence was broken by the words of command, rolling from the Yankee headquarters over the forests in these terms: ''Attention, World! Nations, by the right flank, forward! Wheel into line of battle." Yes, we had the world against us. And this is one item of i^roof for that fact which completes our apology for failure; that subsequent events have shown we were attempting to defend and preserve a system of free gov- ernment which had become impossible by reason of the change and degeneration of the age. We did not believe this at the time, for we had not omniscience. Nay, it was, at that time, our duty not to know it, or to believe it, even as it is the duty of the loyal son not to believe the disease of his venerable mother mortal, so long as hope is possible; not to cease the ef- forts of his love, and not to surrender her to death while love and tenderness can contest the prize. We had received this free government from our fathers, baptized in their blood; we 4 THE NEW SOUTH. had received from them the sacred injniictioii to preserve it. We had witnessed its beneficent results. Of all men it was our duty to feel ourselves most bound by the maxim of the Roman republican, IVon\fas est de Republica desperare. The changes had silently taken place, which rendered our fathers' system too giood for those who were to execute it; and yet it would have 'been treason to truth and right for us to despair of the better possibility, until the impossibility stood sternly revealed. Thus the task which duty and Providence assigned us was. to demonstrate by our own defeat, after intensest struggle, the unfitness of the age for that blessing we would fain have pre- served for them. Hard task, and hard destiny to attempt the impossible! but one which has often been exacted l)y a mys- terious Providence from the votaries of duty. Yet it gives us this hard consolation, that inasmuch as the survival of our old sys.tem had become impracticable, failure in the effort to pre- serve it might be incurred without dishonor. And there is this concurrence in the justification of the Oonfederates, and the justification to which you, the "New South," will soon have to appeal for your actions: that both apologies are correctly drawn from the ;same premise. Be cause the old free system has become impossible for your times; therefore you will be justified in living and acting under an opposite one. There will be an apparent paradox in this: that you shall applaud and revere your fathers for their determined opposition to forms and principles, which you shall recei\e and even sustain. But the paradox v/ill be only in seeming. Your justification will be found where we find ours; in the fact that the institutions which it was our duty to defend, because they still existed, it will be your duty to surrender, because you have learned by our innocent calamity that they cannot hereafter exist. "A new South" is inevitable, and therefore it will be mght for you to accept it, though it was our duty to fight to prevent it. It may be the son's duty to-morrow to "bury the dead mother out of his sight," whom it was the father's most sacred duty yesterday to endeavor to keep alive. Tlie government our fathers left to us was a federation of sovereign States. As such they emerged from the war of the revolution, and were recognized by Great Britain. As such THE NEW SOUTH. 5 they met in c-onventioa to devise a ^'closer union." As such they debated and accepted or rejected the terms proposed therefDr (for some ^States at first did exercise their unquestion- ed sovereignty in rejecting the new union.) By their several and sovereign acts they created a central federated govern- ment, with limited powers strictly defined, and deputed to this common agent certain powers over their own citizens, to be im- partially exercised for the equal behoof of all the partners. All other powers, including that af judging and redressing vital infractions of this federal compact, they jealously and express- ly reserved to themselves or to their people. To the outside world they were to be one, to each other they were to be still equals and independent partners. Each State must be a re- public, as distinguished from a monarchy or oligarchy, but in all else it was to be mistress of its own internal forms and regu- lations. The functions of the general government were to be few and defined, its expenditures modest, and its burdens in time of peace light. Such was the form, of government insti- tuted for themselves by our free forefathers; and well fitted to their genius and circumstances, as communities of farmers, inhabiting their own homes, approaching an equality of condi- tion, and having upon the whole continent no one city of con- trolling magnitude or wealth. But this century has seen all this reversed; and conditions of human society have grown up, which make the system of our free forefath^ers obviously impracticable in the future. And this is so, not 'because the old forms were not good enough for this day, but because they were too good for it. 1. I would place as the first of these adverse conditions the silent substitution, under the same nomenclature, of anoth- er theory of human rights, in contrast with, and hostile to, that of our fathers. Those wise men did indeed believe in a certain equality of all men; bur it was that which the British constitu- tion (whose principles they inherited) was wont to express by the maxim: that every British citizen "was equal before the law." The particular franchises of the peer and the peasant were very uneijual. but in this important respect the two men were '*e(iual before the law," that the peasant's smaller fran- chises were protected toy the same law which shielded the peer's 6 THE XEW SOUTH. larger one. This is the equality of the golden rule, the equal- ity of that Bible which ordained the constitution of human so- ciety out of superiors, inferiors and equals; the equality of the inspired Job (ch. 31: 13-15) who in the very act of asserting his right to his slave, added: -Did not he that made me make him? If I did despise the cause of my man-servant or my maid- servant when they contended with me. what then shall I do when God riseth up?" This is the equality which is thoroughly consistent with that wide diversity of natural cai)acities. vir- tues, station, sex, inherited possessions, which inexorable fact discloses everywhere and by means of which social organiza- tion is possible. But in place of this, the equality taught by Hampden. Yane. Pym. Melville, and the Whigs of 1776. our modern politician now teaches, under the same name, the equal- ity of the Jacobin, of the ''Sans culotte," which absurdly claims for every human the same specific powers and rights. Yes. your Greeley teaches, as the equality of Republicanism, the very doctrine of the frantic Leveller Lilburn. whose book these great English Republicans caused mot your tyrannical Stuart but the commonwealth's-men) to be burned in London by the common hangman I Our fathers valued liberty, but the liberty for which they contended was each person's privilege to do those things and those only to which God's law and Providence gp.ve him a mor- al right. The liberty of nature which your modern asserts is absolute license; the privilege of doing whatever a corrupt will craves, except as this license is curbed by a voluntary "social contract." The fathers of our country could have adopted the sublime words of Melville: Lex: Rax. The Law is king. Or have said with Sir Wm. Jones: Men constitute a State: And sovereign Law, that State's collected will. O'er thrones and globes elate. Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill. Smit by her sacred frown. The fiend (Construction) Z'Mrr()tten. He dwelt under ills own I'oof-tree. He was his own man; he was the fee-sini]»le owner of the homestead where his })roductions were created 'by the skill and labor of himself and his children, a|)prentices and servants. X:)w all this is chan<;'ed; the loom is no longer heard in the home; vast factories, owned 'by monopo- lists for whom the cant of the age tias already found their ap- l)ropriate name as "kiings of industry," now undersell the home products everywhere. The axe and hoe which the husbandman wields, ;)nce made at the country forge, tlie shoe jtlaced on his mule's feet, tlu' jdow witli which he turns the soil, the very helve in his tool, all come from the factoi-y. The home indus- try of th(^ housewife in l)i-(nving Ikm- own yeast can hardly sur- A'ive, but is sup]ilanted by your factory "baking powdei-s," in which chemical adulterations may liave full play. Thus pro- duction is centi-alized. Cajxital is collected in c;)mm«ndiiig masses, at wlio;se bidding the free-holding citizen is sunk into the multitudinous hiriddng proletariat. Conditions of social or- ganization ai'e again producf^d, fully iiarallel to the worst re- sults of feudalism, in their incomjiatibility with rejjublican in- stitutions. 4. From these changes have resulted the extreme ine(|uuli- ties of fortune, expenditures and luxuiy wiiich now deform American society. When our late coiistitution was (^nacted, American citizens enjoyed a general equality of fortune and comfort, which made a real, republican (Mjuality of rights prac- ticable. The only aristocracy recognized was that >f intelli- gence and merit. The richest citizen was only a farmer, some- what more abounding than his neigli))or, in the bi-eadth of his fields. A British writer, endeavoring to trace in the republican society the existence of a gentry, could find no greater incomes than those of Washington, of Mt. Vernon, and Carroll, of Car- rollton, each reaching possibly |20,0()0 jier annum. And the Mt. Vernon mansion appeared in his eyes so modest that he spoke of it as ''the cottage," inhabited by the proprietor. But THE NEW SOUTH. 9 now I some of oiii- "kings of indnstiy" count rlieir incomes b.v almost as many dollars per day. Set the more than rejial lux- ury of a \'anderbilt, in his gaudy palace, beside the hirtding laborer in his sordid tenemenl lodging, who is Ms theoretical equal! Yes, the starving hireling's vote, who does not know whence to-morrow's potatoes are to come for the i)au})er din- ner of his ragged children, shall count f )r precisely as uuicli as the vote of a Vanderbilt. This is the theory. And ihis wretch is so exalted by luis manhood sutfrage, is he? as to be thoroughly content with the monstrous inequality of enjoy- ments and to hearken to no cravings of envy or rancour, when he sees this rampant luxury tiaunted before his misery? And this lorldly millionaire, pampered by his immeasurable abun- dance, will feel no lust of jvower, no am'bition to add civic do- minion to the plutocratic whicli he already possesses, and he will be satisfied to have the ignorant vote of his hireling weigh precisely as much as his own in every legislative act touching his tenure of his millions? He who knows human nature sees that to expect this is nuM-e ci-aziness. This enormous ineciual- ity in wealth will seek to protect, to assert itself in politics. But our new-fangled Rei»ublicanism asserts that, politically, the ^'anderbilt shall be tln^ precise equivalent of the pauper. It leaves the rich man no legitimate form for the assertion of his superior weight or the protection of his superior interests in the State. Wealth, then, must seek for itself illegitimate forms. And in obeying the inevitable impulse through these illegal ways, it must corru|)t itself, and the institutions :)f the land. 5. The press has been looked to as the safe guardian of popular institutions. It has been called by an p]nglish \\'hig "the fourth estate of the Realm. " But the intiuences under which the political press in America operates constitute this also (me of the fatal hindrances ro the subsistence of wise, free institutions. The powerful jouinals must be also the creatures of money. The conditions of journalism are such that (mly a vast capital can float a journal into a safe and permanent hav- en of success. Literature is a commodity, money buys and sells it. Let the genius of an Addison, a Bolingbrooke, a Junius, a 3Iacaulav, all be combined on the one side, with all the richest 10 THE NEW SOUTH. resources of historical learning to publish the political truths which happen to be unpopular without a great capital; and let commercial capital give its supp3rt to the pen of the most ig- norant demagogue to propagate the crudest absurdities in which capital supposes it has a selfish and corrupt interest, you suall see the wisdom of true statesmanship, embellisii^d by all the graces of scholarship consigned to an unread obscurity in this coantry, while the vulgar stupidities of error shall visit e^■e^y table and claim every eye. Mammon wills it so, and Mammon rules. The reason is because the leading presses of the couinier- cial centers are either the tools of parties and used for exclu- sive partisan purposes, or else they are. like the c;Uico mills, mere joint-stock cancerns for money making. Either ,vay, the result is the same. The contents of the journ:'.l are not dictat- ed at all by truth or right, but solely by self-interest. What doctrine shall it assert? Only that which advances the strength of the faction, or which attracts the more numerous subscrib- er's. Thus the press instead of being the guide, bec9mes the mere sycophant of misguided public opinion. Let only any political heresy begin to be current enough to become an ele- ment of danger to sound institutions, and thenceforward it is the interest and business of the great journals to give it their support. To resist and explode it "would not pay." 6. One more change only, my time permits me to state, which C3ncur.s to render the system of our fathers a thing cf the past. This is the invariable extension of the suffrage, which has attended every political change in America. This trait has characterized not only the violent revolution through which we have passed, but every modification of constitution made by the States. We even see it working with equal certainty in the re- form measures of once conservative England. In every case where a State constitution has been opened to change, that change has been towards universal suffrage, unless this ex- treme had been already reached; and in no single case has a restriction of suffrage been even attempted. There is a reason for this fated law of progress downwards in the nature of the demagogue, and it may be said in passing, that this presents us the fatal weak pDint in the theory of popular government. THE NEW SOUTH. 11 The selfish calcuhitions and instincts of these courtiers of Kinj;- Mob, ahvaj's prompt them to advocate every extension, no matter how unwise or destructive, and seal their lips from oji- posing it. Their calculation runs thus: Here is a new class whom some one has proposed to enfranchise. I know, as does everj' sensible man, that it is a folly. But perhaps the proposal may prevail. Hence, I cannot afford to appose it, for shouid it prevail, the newly enfranchised, when they come to the polls, will remember my action against me. But if I am a forward advocate of it, their gratitude will make them vote for me. Thus the craziest and most ruinous proposition to create a new class of voters, always has zealous assertors, and for the same reason it meets with no opposers who are effective. Such were the avowed motives (with sectional hatred and revenge) which prompted our conquerors to fix on the South- ern half of the country that last extreme of political madnes^s, the universal and unqualified suffrage of the slaves. And how deadly in their potency these motives of self-seeking are, we may see in this fact, that they even silence the protest of our own politicians! There is not one of them w:ho does not know that this measure is inevitably pregnant with the corruption and overthrow of honest, popular government; yet there is not one of them, who is a candidate for votes, who has the nerve to say what he thinks, or to demand a reversal of the criminal blunder. But when the leaders of the very people who are the first victims of this wrong, are too much intimidated to lift a finger for its correction, whence shall deliverance from the fa- tal incubus come? There will be no deliverance until suft'rage shall have been so foully corrupted by this and its other per- versions, that a despairing and ruined people take refuge frcm its intolerable tyrannies in the will of an autocrat, and the ig- norant and venal cease to vote only when and because all will be forbidden to vote. Whether just and free institutions can co-exist in such a country as this, with its vast population and inequalities o-f condition, along with this extravagance of universal suffrage, needs no debate. Do you remember the prophetic letter of Lord Macaulay to Mr. Randall, of Xew York? Do you rememiber the homely instance by which a greater than Macaulay, and a more 12 THE NEW SOUTH. liiophetic statesmau, was wont to close Ms arguments in favor of that sheet anchor of liberty, free-hold suflfraue? Mr. Ran (lalph used to exclaim: '"Sirs, the empty sack does not stand upright." In an advanced material civilization like ours, ev- ery political action touches property somewhere. If the vote which represents no property is made of equal weight with the vote which represents large property, then, with such inequali- ties of wealth, with such ostentatious displays of the luxury of the few }ji(iuing the envy af the impoverished many, just so surely as men are men. greedy in desire, selfish and unright- eous, and the more unrighteous where their crime is wrapi)ed up from the eye of conscience in the folds of associated action, two results must follow, are already following. The attempt of the proletariat and their demagogues to use their irresponsi- ble suffrage for plunder; the resistance of the capital-holding minority to this plunder. But for this resistance, though it be as inevitable as the instincts of self-preservation, your radical theory offers no recognized, legitimate mode. Radicalism or- dains that the small shall be equal to the large; the dependent shall counterweigli the independent; the vote which has noth- ing to lose, shall dispose of the vote of him who has all to lose. The result is. that self-defense invents illegitimate nudes, and the unrighteous assault on property is met by the illegal use of property to protect itself and to intiate itself until the moral corruptions wrought in our politics fester to putrescence and dissolve the body. As we thus lo )k back upon the social revolution which had established itself in our century, we see that political revolu- tion had become unavoidable. The assault on our rights and institutions was but the first wave of the cataclysm. It swejit over our best resistance, because there were other waves be- hind it which are desfined in turn to (•()n(]uer our romiuerDrs. He is a shallow man, indeed, who supposes that the rev(dution will pause at its present stage, leaving the conquering section ascendant, and rendering this unstable eciuilibrium of the mo- ment permanent. No. we have now seen but the first act of the drama, and it has been a tragedy. The curtain has falleu for the time to the music of a miserere, whose jarring chords have fretted the heartstrings of such as Lee and his comrades into THE NEW SOUTH. 13 death. It mav well liappeu that after rhe fashion of the mimic stage, the next rise of rhe curraiu may be accompanied by the garish lights of a deceitful joy, the blood stains of the recent tragedy covered with fresh saw dust, and the new act:M's ush- ered in with a burst of gay melody. But the other acts are ro foll'ow. May they not be tragic also? That popular suffrage does not now really govern this conn try, that it is notoriously a marketable cammodity, that rlie United States have really ceased already to be what they pre- tend, a federation of republican States, no clear sighted man doubts. Under a thin veil of radical democracy, the govern- 'menr has already become an oligarchy. Are not Srate conven- tions traded off by the magnates as openly as blocks of rail- road bonds? Are not legislatures bought as really and ;ilmosr as 'Openly as cargoes of corn? Are not "corners" made in jioli- ties by which the weaker caititalists are sold out, as really as in the pork market? It is Washington or Wall street which really dictates what platforms shall be set forth, and what can- didates elected and what appointments made, not the peoi)le of the States. Some of you may have heard of the incident which happened in our neighboring town, in that year when our South- ern conservatives, in their wisdom, made Horace Greeley their standard-bearer, hoping, it seems, like the superstitious Jews, to "cast out devils through Beelzebub, the chief of the devils"; to retrieve the cause of order and right through the arch in- cendiary and agitator of the country. Several hopeful souls were arguing his success from the many signs of his acceptance with the people. It was said, whole radical towns, whole Union Leagues in the northwest were coming over to Greeley. A sagacious banker standing 'by quietly shook his head. Our friends, almost vexed at his skepticism, asked: "Why? do not all these accessions, with the Southern support, promise him success?'' His answer was: "Gentlemen, I do business in Wall Street, and Wall Street does not want Greeley." And so the country did not have Greeley, and Greeley did not liave the presidency he coveted, but went aside to die of chagrin. So Wall Street saw in the third term im])erialism tliinly masked, and as its oligarchs preferred to be mast(M-s tliem- selves, rather than have Grant their master and ours. Wall 14 THE NEW SOtTTlt. Street sent to Chu-ago and nominated Garfield as its convenient Iny-figure. l>ut liaving carried its main point it really cared A'erj little abont tiie clioice between him and Hancock, and for a time did not trouble itself. So the people were about to elect Hancock. Eut yne line morning this simple minded "beefeater" perpetrated the faux pas of endorsing the greenback victory in Maine. And now that Wall Street saw that the Hancock regime was committed to "soft money," it did trouble itself, and woke up and put its hand to the canvass. It would none of Hancock and his soft money, and so the people could not have Hancock nor he have the presidency. Obviously the government now ascendant in the cauntry while "Republican" in name and ultra-democratic in theory, is an oligarchy in fact. Extremes often thus meet. Nothing can be more fallacious than thai viev.-, advanced by some of our conciliatory statesmen, which represents the recent revolutions as only a temporary- excitement and partial fit of excess from which the institutions of the country will re-act under prudent management and regain their old constitutional status. There will be no re-action in that sense. The morbid causes which were so potent to overthrow will yet more certainly be power- ful enough to resist and suppress the weak efforts of a crip- pled, prostrate constitution. The obstacles between us and a return to past precedents are too mountainous. Consider for instance, that "spoils system," now strong with a generation's growth. If it is to be perpetrated, this of itself makes popular constitutional government impossible. For every intelligent man sees that it converts office-holders from servants of the peo- ple to paid agents for circumventing the people's will at the polls, paid with the money of the people they help to enslave. This is the very signature of despotism, that the citizen's money is taken to bribe agents for suppressing the citizen's will. Under this system the office-holders are the pretorian co- horts of the usurper. But let one think out now the conditions essential to the realizing of that "civil service reform," which each party pre- tends to promise, but which neither party purposes, as the ap- propriate remedy for the spoils system. One of the requisite conditions is that one of these parties upon ousting the other THE NEW SOUTH. l5 from power shall exercise the self-denial and magnanimity to leave all their rival's appointees, except those expressly pun- ishable fov official malfeasance, undisturbed in their offices and salaries. For if the victorious party is to signalize its acces- sion, won, we will suppose, on the promise of civil service re- form, by expelling all the office-holders of the opposite and de- feated part3% this will not be lo inaugurate the whjlesome remedy, but only to repeat the abuse. And thus they would more than ever ensure at the next turn of the wheel of fortune that their reinstated rivals would imitate their vindicative ex- ample, turn out all their new appointees and again postpone the happy change. Let us suppose, for example, that the peo- ple should again elect a conservative President and that he should not, like poor Mr. Tilden, submit at the bidding of Wall Street to the robbery of himself and the people of America, but should be inaugurated; shall he magnanimously leave every ap- pointee, though an agent or a tool of the present spoils system, undisturbed? Then there is no official reward for his support- ers who have toiled for his election. They must have worked for naught but an idea, a prompting of pure patriotism. Whence is the money to come to wage the campaign when all will have been notified in advance that there will be no way for them to repay themselves out of the public crib? It is well known that a national campaign now costs as much as a military one, and that money is to it as essential as ''the sinews of war." Does any party in America possess this lofty patriotism? Will eith- er party thus work for nothing? But let us suppose that the incoming conservative shall make a pretext that the office-hold- ers he finds in place have been there as "spoils-men," and turn them out to make room for his supporters; then the inevitable result is that the opposing party will denounce him as a traitor to his own civil service reform, and devote themselves to retalia- tion. Such are the obstacles which beset the abatement of this peril in America. "Canst thou draw out Leviatiian with a hook, or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down? Canst thou put a hook into his nose?" Such are the fatal influences which obstruct all return and ensure the progress of the revolution. There is a new era and hence there must be a "New South." 16 THE NEW SOUTH. What manner of thing shall it be? To pragnosticate or prophecy is not the prooer part for us to phiy who fell with the old South. For us a more modest part is appropriate. We shall claim our prerogative forever of defending our own prin- ciples, which a decadent country has pronounced too elevated for it to tolerate, and of consulting oui- own self-respect. Jus- tice to you requires that we shall leave y;)u to guide your own destiny in that new and untried sea into whicli you are launcli- ing. But there are some principles whicli we may safely incul- cate on you, because whatever else may change these cannot change. The glory of our old indei)en(lence and its history. \\\ii beneficence of the confederate principles of our old c »nstitu- tion, concurred to teach us an exalted, peihajts an overwean- ing appreciation of the value of sucli political institutions. But we do not forget that other peaple have had other forms of government, aristocratic or regal, and under them liave had their share of the domestic virtues, of patriotism, of civilization, of Christianity. (But under the illicit and dirty oligarchy of which our ])i"esent regime is a virtual specimen, no pe3ple has ever had or can ever have anything but corruption, ignominy and vice.) Our best pra^'er for you is. that out of the present foul transition, a good Providence may cause some new order to arise tr)leral)le for honest men. The changes implied in the in- troduction of this new order may be accepted by the old con- federates as old age. as infirmity, or as a not distant death. They must be accepted by me as the inevitable. But the prin- ciples of ti-utli and rigliteousness are as eternal as their divine legislator. These must be uplield under all dynasties and forms. Here, in one word, is the safe pole-star for the "New South"'; let them adrjpt the scriptural politics, assured that they will ever be as true and just under any new regime as under the one that has passed away: "That righteousness exalteth a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people." That "wisdom and knowledge shall be the sta'bility of thy times, and strength of salvation; the fear of the Lord is His treasure.'' That "he that walketh righteously and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth ihe gain of oppressions, that sliak(4h his hands from holding of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and THE NEW SOUTH. 17 shutteth his eyes from beholding evil; he shall dwell on high; bis place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks." Some of the applications of these unchanging principles are obvious to experience guided by truth. Permit me briefly to unfold three of these to you, which are shown to be timely and momentous by the special temptations to which a subju- gated people are exposed while passing of necessity under a new and conquering system. One of these plausible tempta- tions is to conclude that the surest way to retrieve your pros- perity will be to BECOME LIKE THE CONQUERORS. Tliis is an in- ference as false as it is specious; the fact that your fathers are conquered may ground a good inference perhaps, that you should seek to be in some respect^ unlike us. May you be un- like us in being more fortunate I But a very brief observation of history will teach you that violent aggressors, in overthrow- ing their rivals, also usually prepare their own overthrow. Their calamities are only postponed to the second place. The Jacob- ins overthrew Louis XVI., but Bonaparte crushed the Jacobins, and Europe crushed Napoleon. Shall this be the best reparation for the miseries of the fall of the Confederacy; that you shall share, for a few deceitful days, the victors' gains of oppression, to be overwhelmed along with him in his approaching retribu- tion? Be sure of one thing, "his curses will come home to roost." In order to escape the fearful reckoning, you must not only make yourselves unlike as but unlike them. "The North triumphed by its wealth." Here is the tempta- tion to the New South, to which I already see ominous sympt- oms of yielding, to make wealth the idol, the all in all of sec- tional greatness. I hear our young men quote to each other the advice of the wily diplomat Gorstchacoff, to the beaten French: ''Be strong." They exclaim: Let us develope! de- velope! develope! Let us have, like our conquerors, great cities, great capitalists, great factories and commerce and great populations; then we shall cope with them. Now here is a path which will require of you the nicest dis- crimination, and the most perspicacious virtue and self-denial. On the one hand it is indisputable that under our modern, ma- terial civilization, wealth is an essential element of national greatness. The commonwealth which presents a sparse and 18 THE NEW SOTJTH. impoverrsiied population, in competition with a rich and popu- lous rival, will come by the worse in spite of her martial vir- tues; and may make her account to be dependent and subordin- ate. Hence to develope the South is one of the plainest duties of patriotism. To increase its riches is one way to increase its power of self-proteetion. And a knowledge, and hardy, dili- gent practice of the industries of production are among the civic virtues which it behooves the New South to cultivate. So much is to be asserted on that side. But on the other side the deduction that all our section has to do is to imitate the conquering section in that one of its qualities by which it got wealth; to make the appliances of production the all in all; to exclaim as so many do of factories, and mines, and banks, and stock boards, and horse-powers of steam, and patent machines, ''These be thy gods, O Israeli'' This would be a deadly mistake. Does not history teach that ^'wealth is the sinews of war?" jes, not seldom; but it teaches at least as often that wealth and material civilization have been the emasculators of nations and the incitements of their enemies at once, only ensuring the deeper destruction for the rich and cultivated people. Our own overthrow is near at hand to teach us this lesson, for we were the richer section sub- jugated by the poorer, which was shrewd enough to hie on the pauper proletaries of a hungry world upon our wealth as their prey. Ek) some of you exclaim: "What, the South the richer section?'' Very likely many of you are already so indoctrinated in that tuition of lies, against which I shall have to caution you anon, that this will be news to you. Xevertheless is it true: the South was by one-quarter if not one-third, the richer sec- tion, as was proved by the stubborn evidence of the census re- turns of the government itself, as managed by our enemies. The wisdom of the Xew South, then, must be in pursuing the sharp line which divides the neglect from the idolatry of riches. If they be pursued as an end instead of a means, they become your ruin instead of your deliverance. If riches when acquired are employed to enervate your manhood with costly pomps and luxuries instead of being consecrated to the noble uses of charity and public spirit, the richer the New South be- comes the weaker she will be. The problem you have to learn THE NKW south. i^ is how to combine the possession of g^reat wealth with the per- sonal practice of simplicity, hardilioid and self-sacritice. That people which makes seltish. material jiood its (xod, is doomed. In this world of sin the sjjirit of heroic self-sacritice is the es- sential condition of national greatness and hapi)iness. The only sure wealth of the State is in cultured, heroic men, who intelligently know f^eir duty and are caLmly prepared to sac- rifice all else, including life, to maintain the right. Well then did the President of the Confederacy utter these golden words, that "the spirit of self-sacrifice is the crown of the civic vir- tues." I know that there is a generation, "O, how lofty are their eyes and their eyelids lifted up," who boast tliat their cuteness is in pursuing the "main chance," and who flout this virtue of disinterestedness as a wealc folly; and yet for lack of this virtue their prosperity is ever perishing and their material civilization is ever, like the tawdry pyrotechnics of some popu- lar feast, burning out its own splendors into ashes, darkness and a villainous stench of brimstone. Tlie New South then needs wealtli, but it also needs men, high-minded men. unde- bauched by wealth, who, like the "high privates" of the Con- federate ranks, shall know how to postpone ease and the de- lights of culture for the invincible endurance of hardship and danger. 2. Subjugation presents to the honorable conquered man another alternative of temptations. The one is that of moral disgust, prompting him to turn with proud disdain from all concern with public affairs, and wrap himself like a hermit in the folds of his own self-respect. It is to the best natures that this is most alluring; how attractive is the thought 'of thus eas- ing one's infinite disgusts? How plausible the argument which says: Let those who have by fraud or force usurped the helm bear the responsibility of wrecking the ship. But the error of this resort is that it neglects the claims of patriotism and robs the State, in the moment of her need, of the virtues and facul- ties most essential to her deliverance. These unbending spirits who cannot be reconciled to disgrace are the very ones that .can now be least spared. To conquer the burning repugnance to all the loathsome incidents of misconception, slimy slander, corruption and ingratitude with which one must meet in serv- 20 THE JvfEW SOUTH. ing a state under the eclipse of subjugation, this may be a cross as bitter as death. But how many of our noblest and best have already borne the cross of death in the same cause? The alternative temptation is yet more seductive to the more supple temperament. This is to exaggerate and pervert the plea of acquiescence in the inevitable; to cry, "Oh there is no use nor sense in cantending against fate,'' and on this ar- gument to act the trimmer and turncoat. How much easier is this to the pliable temper? And it may be, how profitable to the pocket. It is so sweet a relief to the lassitude which such a mind experiences at being ever in the self-respecting the righteous and the unsuccessful minority. Ah, how tiresome is it to such a man to hold up the standard of principle wiien it is unsustfiined by the breeze of popularity! Poor soul, how his arms ache, and how do they crave rest in the ai^is of the cor- rupt majority. But even by the light of that policy, which such men make their pole-star, it would be better, while recognizing the in- evitable, still to cleave to moral consistency and principle. For I surmise that when you seek a market for your capacities in the fonim of the new regime, its managers will tell you that turncoats are decidedly a drug in that market. The demand is utterly overstocked, the market glutted. It is the men who have convictions and who cleave to them, who are the article in demand; in demand even with political adversaries, who, themselves, have no principles. For such men, however venal, soon learn the truth that the turncoat who could not be trusted to cleave to his principles, can as little be trusted to stick to the master who has bought him. 3. It behooves the New South, in dismissing the animosi- ties of the past, to see to it that they retain all that was true in its principles or ennobling in its example. There are those pretending to belong to this company who exclaim: ''Let us bury the dead past. Its issues are all antiquated, and of no more practical significance. Let us forget the passions of the past. We are in a new world. Its new questions alone concern us." I rejoin: Be sure that the former issues are really dead before you bury them! There are issues which cannot die without the death of the people, of their honor, their civiliza- TllK NEW SOUTH. 21 tion and their greatness. Take care that you do not bury too much, while burying the dead past: that 3'OU do not bury the inspiring memories of great patriots, whose actions, whether successful or not, are the eternal glor}' of your race and section ; the influence of their virtues, the guiding precedents of their histories. Will you bury the names and memories of a Jackson and Lee, and their noble army of martyrs? Will you bury true history whose years are those of the God of Truth? There is one point on which you insist too little, which is vital to the young citizens of the South. This is, that he shall not allow the dominant party to teacli him a perverted history of the past contests. This is a mistake of which you are in im- minent peril. With all the astute activity of their race, our conquerors strain every nerve to preoccupy the ears of all America with the false version of affairs which suits the pur- poses of their usurpation. With a gigantic sweep of mendacity, this literature aims to falsify or misrepresent everything; the very facts of history, the principles of the former Constitution as admitted in the days of freedom by all statesmen of all par- ties; the characters and motives of our patriots; the i)urposes of parties; the very essential names of rights and virtues and vices. The whole sway of their commercial and political ascen- dancy is exerted to fill the South with this false literature. Its sheets come up, like the frogs of Egypt, into our houses, our bed chambers, our very kneading troughs. Now, against this deluge of perversions I solemnly warn young men of the South, not for our sakes, but for their own. Even if the memory of the defeated had no rights; if historical trutli had no preroga- tives; if it were the same to you that the sires wliose blood fills your veins, and whose names you bear, be written down as traitors by the pen of slanderous history, still it is essential to your own future that you shall learn the history of the past truly. For the institutions which are to be, however unlike those wliich have been, must have a causal relation to them: must be in some sense the progeny of them. The chrysalis is very unlike its progeny, but none the less its traits determine those of tlte gorgeous butterfly. The acorn is not like a tree, yet its s])ecies determines the shape and qualities of the mon- arch of the forest. To-morrovv''s configuralion of the planets 22 THE NEAV SOUTH. may be very dissimilar from that of to-day, but it will be rigid- ly couseqiiential thereon. Hence the astronomer who miscon- ceives and mi.sstates the positions of the jrbs to-day. must in- evitably err in his prediction of their conjunctions to-morrow. So if public men will gratify their spite, or revenge, or lust of sectional power by misrepresenting the late events, they there- by condemn themselves t3 fatal bluiiderings and mistakes in prognosticating that future which can only be the caused se- quel Li) this. If you w^ould not be mere blunderers in your new constructions, then you must understand aright the structure of those recent actions on which they must found themselves. You will seek to learn them, not from a Greeley or a Henry Wilson, but from a Stephens and a Davis. While yoti do not allow your judg^'ment to be hoodwinked by even the possible ex- aggerations of our own patriots, still less will you yield your minds to the malignant fables of those partisans wlio think they can construct history as unscrupulously as a political ring. Our age presents the strange instance of a numerous party, who think they can circumvent the resistless forces of truth by ^systematically misnaming facts and fallacies, who are deliber- ately building a whole system of empire on the substitution of light for darkness and darkness for light, of good for evil and evil for good, calling that master in our government which was servant, that patriotism which was treason, and that treason which was true, law-preserving patriotism, and that aggres- sion which was righteous defense. If you wish to be buried deeper than thrice buried Troy beneath the final m:)untains of both defeat and shame, go with these architects of detraction. They are but arraying themselves against that unchangeable God who has said: ''The lying tongue is but for a moment, but ,ihe lip of truth shall be established forever." I have admitted, young gentlemen, that constitutions and laws may change, but honor, justice and right are immutable. Be loyal to these in all novel emergencies, and you will act safely. If this virtue, the foundation of all the civic, exists in you, it will, it must manifest itself most plainly in reverence and enthusiasm for the heroic and the self-sacrificing of your own people and State. Their actions have placed the right be- fore you incorporate'. >vith all the definiteness of outline and THE NEW SOUTH. 23 vividness of coloring which belong- to concrete realities. Their actions concern your hearts by virtue of all the ties of neighbor- hood and patriotism. As long as the hearts of the New South thrill with the generous though defeated endurance of the men of 1861; as long as they cherish these martyrs of constitutional liberty as the glory of their Stare and its history, you will be safe from any base decadence. If the generation that is to come ever learns to be ashamed of these men because they were overpowered by fate, that will be the moral death of Virginia, a death on which there will wait no resurrection. But I do nor fear this. I recall what my own eyes witnessed at the last great civic pomp in which I was present. This was the installment of that statue of Jackson near 3ur State capitol, which Virginia re- ceived as the tribute of British statesmanship and culture to her illustrious dead. At this ceremonial there were gathered almost the whole intelligence and beauty of what was left of tile old commonwealth. As the long processiau wound through the streets marshaled and headed by General Joseph E. John- ston, under the mild glory of our October sun, while the at- mosphere was palpitating with military music and the whole city was gone upjn its house-tops, it was easy to pen-eive that all eyes and all hearts were centering upon one sole part of the pageant, and this was not the illustrious figure that headed it, the commander in so many historical battles, bestriding his charter with his inimitable martial grace; nor was it the clus- ter containing the remnant of Jackson's statf. We might have supposL'd that we would receive some reflected distinction from the luminary to which we had been satellites so near, and that some romantic curiosity might direct itself to those who had habitually seen him under fire, heard, and borne those orders which had decided memorable victories, and bivouacked under the same blanket with him; but no eye sought us. Then came hobbling a company of two hundred and thirty grizzled men with empty sleeves, and wooden legs, and scarred faces, and hands twisted into every distortion which the fiery fancy of the rifle-ball could invent, clad in the rough garb of a laboring yeomanry, their faces bronzed with homely toil: this was the company for which every eye waited, and as it passed the 24 THE NEW SOUTH. mighty tlirono; was moved as the trees of the forest are moved by the wind, the multitudinous white arms waved their superb welcome, and the thundering cheer rolled with the column from end to end of the great city. It was the remnant of the Stone- wall Brigade I That was the explanation. This wa.>< the tribute which the sons, the daughters, the mothers of Virginia paid to -sturdy heroism in defent And as I saw this my heart said with an exultant bound. "There is life in the old land yet!" TO MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD." Chief of the Freedmen's Bureau, Wasliiiin^foii. Sir: Your high official trust makes you, in a certain sense, the representative man of the Xarth, as concerns their dealing with the African race in these Ignited States. It is as sucli that I venture to address you, and through you all your fellov citizens on behalf of this recently liberated people. My pur- pose is humbly to remind you of your weighty charge, and to encourage you to go forward with an enlarged philanthropy and zeal in that career of beneficence toward the African which Providence has opened before you. Rarely has it fallen to the lot of one of the sons of men to receive a larger trust, or to en- joy a wider opportunity for doing good. At the beginning of the late w\ar there were in the South nearly four millions of Africans. All these, a nation in numbers, now taken from their former guardians, are laid upon the hands of that govern- ment of which you are the special agent for their protection and guidance. To this nation of black people you are virtually father and king; your powers for their management are unlimit- ed, and for assisting their needs you have the resources of the "greatest people on eartli." Your action for the freedmen's good is restrained by no constitution or precedents, but the powers yon exercise for them are as full as your office is novel. We see evidence of this in the fact that your agents, acting for the good of your charge, can seize by military arrest any one of their fellow-citizens of African descent, for no other offense than being unemployed, convey him without his consent, and without the company of his wife and family, to a distant field of industry, where he is compelled to wholesome labor for such remuneration as you may be pleased to assign. Another evi- dence is seen in your late order, transferring all causes and in- dictments in which a freedman is a party, from the courts of law of the Southern States to the bar of your own commission- 1 Appeared in New York Weekly News, Oct. 21, 1865. 25 26 MAJOK GEJ>iEEAL HOWARD. ers and .siib-cuinmissiunei's for adjudication. I beg you to be- lieve that these iustanc-es are not cited bv me for the puppase of repeating tlie cavils against the justice and consistency of the powers exercised in them, in which some have been heard to indulge. My purpose is not to urge with them that there is no law by which a free citizen can be riglitfully abridged (>iis ;iud niiscliievous relation — that of domestic slavery. The North now has them on the new footing, whioh is, of course, precisely the right one. The South was their oppressor; the North is their generous liberator. The South was hagridden in all its energies for good (so we were instructed) by the "bar- barism of slavery"; the North contains the most civilized, en- lightened and etficient people on eavth. Now, if you do not surpass our poor performances for the negro with this mighty contrast in your favor, how mighty will be the just reproba- tion which will be visited upon you by the common sentiment of mankind and by the Lord of Hosts? If you do not suii)ass our deeds as far as your jjower and greatness surpass ours, how can you stand at His bar, even beside us sinners? He has taught us that "a man is accepted according to that which he hath, and not according to that which he hath not." To this righteous rule we intend to liold you, as our successors in the guardianship of the negro. If there are any who endeavor to lull your energies in this work, by saj'ing that the negro, being now a free man, must take care of himself like other people; that he should be thrown on his own resources, and that, if he does not provide for his own well-being, he should be left to suffer, I beseech you, in the behalf of humanity, of justice and of your own good name, not to hearken to them. I ask you solemnly whether the freed- men have an "even start" in the race for subsistence with the other laboring men of the nation, marked as they are by dif- ference of race and color, obstructed by stubborn prejudices, and disqualified (as you hold) for the responsibilities of self-sup- port, to some extent, by the evil effects of their recent bondage upon their character? Is it fair, or right, or merciful to com- pel him to enter the stadium, and leave him to this fierce com- petition under these graA^e disadvantages? Again, no peasant- ry under the sun was ever required or was ever able to sustain themselves when connected with the soil by no tenure of any form. Tender our system our slaves had the most permanent and beneficial form of tenancy; for their master's lands were bound to them by law for furnishing them homes, occupations and subsistence during the whole continuance of the master's tenure. But you have ended all this, and consigned four mil- 36 MAJOR GENERAL HO WAED lions of people to a condition of homelessness. Will the Xorth thus make gipsies of them, and then hold them responsible for the ruin which is inevitable from such a condition? But there is another argument equally weighty. By adopt- ing the unfeeling policy of throwing the negro upon his own resources, to sink or swim as he may, you run too great a risk of verifying the most biMng reproaches and objections of your enemies. They, in case of his failure, will argue thus: 'That the great question in debate between the defenders of slavery and the advocates of emancipation was whether the negro was capable of self-control: that the former, who professed to be more intimately acquainted with his character, denied that he was capable of it. and solemnly warned you of the danger of his ruin, if he was intrusted with his own direction, in this coun- try, and that you, in insisting on the experiment in spite of this warning, assumed the whole responsibility. Sir, if the freedmen should perchance fail to swim successfully, that ar gument would be too damaging to you and your people. You cannot afford to venture upon this risk. You are compelled by the interests of your own consistency and good name, to take effectual care that the negro shall swim; and that better than before. In the name of justice, I remonstrate against your throwing him off in his present state, by the inexorable fact that he was translated into it, neither by us, nor by himself, but by you alone; for out of that fact proceeds an obligation ux>on 3-0U. to make your experiment successful, which will cleave to you even to the judgment day. And out of that fact proceeds this farther obligation: that seeing you have persisted, of your own free will, in making this experiment of his libera- tion, you and your people are bound to bestow anything or ev- . erything, and to do everything, except sin, to insure that it shall be, as compared with his previous condition, a blessing to him. For, if you were not willing to do all this, were you not bound to let him alone? When the shipmaster urges lands- men to embark in his ship, and venture the perils of the deep, he thereby incurs an obligation, if a storm arises, to do every- thing and risk everything, even to his own life, for the rescue of his charge. If, then, you and your people should find that it will require the labors of another million of busy hands, and MAJOli GENERAL IIOWAKD. 37 the expenditure of three tliousand millions more of the national wealth, to obviate the evils and dangers arising to the freedmen from your experiment upon their previous condition: yea, if to do this, it is necessary to make the care and maintenance of the African the sole business and labor oif the whole mighty North, you will be bound to do it at this cost. And I beg you, sir, let no one vainly think to evade this duty which they owe you in your charge, by saying that per- haps even so profuse an expenditure as this, for the benefit of the Africans, would fail of its object; because they hold that making a prosperous career is one of those things like chewing their own food, or repenting of their own sins, which people must do for themselves, or else they are impossible to be done; and that so no amount of help can make the freedmen pros- perous as such, without the right putting forth of their own spontaniety. For, do you not see that this plea surrenders you into the hands of those bitter adversaries, the Pro-Slavery men? Is this not the very thing they said? This was precisely their argument to show that philanthropy required the Africans in this country should be kept in a dependent condition. If your section acquiesces in the failure oif your experiment of their liberation on this ground, what will this be but the admission of the daumiug charge that your measure is a blunder and a crime, aggravated by the warning so emphatic, which your op- ponents gave you. and to which you refused to listen? T'ut I feel bound, as your zealous and faithful supporter in your humane task, to give you one more caution. The objectors who watch you with so severe an eye have even a darker sug- gestion to make than the charge of headstrong rashness and criminal mistake in your experiment of emancipation. They are heard gloomily to insinuate that the ruin of the African (which they so persistently assert must result from the change) is not the blunder of the North, but the foreseen and intended result! Are you aware of the existence of this frightful inuendo? It is my duty to reveal it to you, that you may be put upon your guard. These stern critics are heard darkly hinting that they knov/ Northern statesmen and presses who now admit, with a sardonic shrug, that the black man, deprived of the benignant shield of domestic servitude, must of course parish 38 MAJOK GENERAL HOAVAED. like tile red luau. These critics are heard iiiferriu«i- that the true meaniuji" of Northern Republicanism and Free Soil is, thai the white race must be free to shoulder the black race otf this continent, and monopolize the sunny soil, which the God of na- tions gave the latter as their heritaj^^e. They take a sort of grihi pleasure in pointint>- to the dead infants, which, they say, usual- ly marked the liberatinj^' cjurse of your armies through the South, in displaying the destitution and mortality which, they charge, are permitted in the vast settlements of freedmen un- der your care; in insinuating the rumors of official returns of a mortality already incurred in the Southwest, made to your gov- ernment, so hideous that their suppression was a necessity; and in relating how the jungles which are encroaching upon the once smiling ''coasts" of the Mississippi, in Louisiana, already enveioi)e the graves of half the black population in that State! And the terrible inference from all this, which they intimate is, that the great and powerful North only permits these disasters because it intends them; that, not satisfied with the wide do- main which I»rovidence has assigned to them, they now pretend to liberate the slave whom they have seen too i)rosperous under his domestic servitude, in order to destroy him, and grasp, in addition, the soil which he has occupied. Now, sir, it is incumbent on you, that the premises on which, with so dangerous a plausibility, they ground this tre- mendous charge, be effectually contradicted by happy and bene- ficent results. You must refute this monstrous indictment, and there is only one way to do it, by actually showing that you conserve and bless the African rac(\ multiply their numbers, and confirm their prosperity on the soil, more than we have done. I repeat, the North must refute it thus. For, of course, every Northern man. while indignantly denying and abhorring it, admits (what is as plain as the sun at midday) that if the charge were indeed true, it would convict his people of the blackest public crime of the nineteenth century; a crime which would be found to involve every aggravation and every ele- ment of enormity which the nomenclature of ethics enables us to describe. It would be the deliberate, calculated, cold-blood- ed, selfish dedication of an innocent race of four millions to annihilation; the murder, with malice prepence, of a nation! MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. 39 not by the comparatively merciful process of the royal Hun, whose maxim was, that ''thick grass is cut more easily than thin," summary anassacre; but by the slowly eating cancer of destitution, degradation, immorality, protracting the long agony through two or three generations, thus multiplying the victims who would be permitted lo be born iinly to sin, to suffer and to perish; and insuring the everlasting perdition of the soul, along with the body, by cunningly making their own vices the executioners of the doom. It would include the blackest guilt of treason being done under the deceitful mask of bene- faction and by pretended liberators. The unrighteousness of its motive would concur with its treachery to enhance its guilt to the most stupendous height; for upon this Interpretation of the purpose of the North, that motive would be, first to weaken and disable its late adversary, the South, by destroying that part of the people which was guilty of no sin against you, and then, by this union of fraud and force, to seize and enjoy the space which (rod gave them, and laws and constitution guar- anteed. This, indeed, would be the picture which these ac- cusers would then present of your splendid act, that you came as a pretended friend and deliverer to the African, and while he embraced you as his benefactor in all his simple i-onfidence and joy, you thrust your sword through and through his heart, in order to reach, with a flesh wound, the hated white man who stood behind him, whom you could not otherwise reach. The deed would receive an additional shade of blackness from every reproach wliich the North has ever uttered against us for our supposed oppression of the black man, from every profession of your superior humanity toward him — from every assertion of your superior civilization, light and rhristianity. For is it not the righteous penalty of the servant who knew the will of his Divine Master and did it not, to be beaten with many stripes? If the North should, indeed, after all its claims of the traits which exalt a people, have this most accursed deed fastened upon it, then would be fulfilled against it that awful wai'uing which the Son of (rod thundered against the most boastful o-f tlie abuseis of His teachings: "Thou Capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell." And on the face of all the earth there has been no people since that doomed 40 MAJOK GENERAL HOWARD. race who said: "His blood be upon us and our ebildren." against whom the voice 3f impartial history has pronounced deeper execrations than those which would await rou. Once more, could such a crime be perpetrated and tlie dire judgments of Grod fail to follow? Could your posterity h^pe ro escape the fated tread of that divine retribution which hitherto has pur- sued, with inevitable steps, the crimes of all the nations, from the primeval East to tlie farthest West, with the double scjurges of God? Up. then! honorable Sir: Yea, I would exclaim through yuu: Up: thou great. Christian North: cleanse thy skirts from this foul charge; deliver thy children from this fierce indigna- tion of heaven by the splendid liberality and success of your etforts for the freedmen. Up and silence yjur accusers, by lift- ing these Africans, with the strong hand of your beneficence, to your own prosperity. Do not listen to these boding asser- tors of the impossibility of the exploit: but so lavish your en- lightened care and labor, and wealtli and love, as to compel im- possibility itself. The conclusions to which, I trust, you liave now come with me, are briefly these, that the Xorth is bound by the l3gic of events and of its own acts to become the chief guardian and nui'se of the freedmen. That the South is. without its own fault, disabled from doing more than a very little of this work in future. That the North must d3 more for them than the South ever did. and that in the proportion of her own superior- ity over us. as that superiority is asserted by herself, and of the advantage and justice which freedom possesses, according to her, over slavery, that the Xartli cannot throw on the Afri- can, unaided, the task of securing Ms own destiny, nor plead that the attainment of social prosperity is a thing which can- not be done for those who do not effect it for themselves; be- cause these are just the p Dints which the South urged against this change and which the North denied in insisting upon it, and because you alone are the authors of the change. That your section has thereby incurred a sacred obligation to bestow on the African a well being higher than that of the state from which you took him, no matter how much it may cost you. And that, if the North fails in this, it confesses itself an enormous criminal. MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. 4l Here, then, is your task, anil these are its conditions. There is no more sincere aid wliich I can renih'r you in it than to ^ive you a sober sketch of its real difficulties, and with this I shall close. One of 3'our difficulties is in the thriftlessness of the Afri- cans themselves, and their want of intelligent foresight; a trait which was caused, not by domestic servitude, but by the savage condition from wliicli they were taken, and whicli we had i>ar- tially corrected when they were taken out of our liands. (For this is just the character which all savages exhibit, and espec- ially those of the torrid climes, wliich know U) winter.) Our system assigned an effectual remedy for the misc.hievous ef- fects of this trait by making it the interest and duty of every slave owner, and of all his adult childien and heirs to teach the servant care and industry, and to guard against his thriftless- ness. How you are to repair it under your system I, of course, must not presume to dictate. I will only venture to say that the correction of it must manifestly require a vast amount of careful and patient tutelage of a multitude of hands. The cen- sus returns of 1850 gave the South two hundred and eighty thousand slave owners. Every one of these, with their wives, many of their adult children and a multitude of overseers and agents were interested teachers and guardians of the Afiican, and many of them exceedingly diligent, and devoted all their time to this work. Hence it is manifestly a very moderate es- timate that your bureau must employ in the tutelage and guar- dianship of these helpless people not less than a quarter of a million of persons, and as the powerful motive of interest and property is extinguished they must all be of better average character than Southern slave owners to do their work as well without that motive as these did with it. They must be all of thorough integrity and intelligence. Another of your difficulti(^s will be found in tlu' enormous misconceptions which now fill the minds of the freednien. Tlie mischief of one of these I have already indicated. It suited your purposes, during the season of strife, diligently to teach the negro that the white people of the South were their op- pressors and enemies. Well, sir, they have learned your les- son effectually, and will not speedily unlearn it. The conse- 42 MAJOR ge:n^eral Howard. quence is that yon have thereby stripped yourself of the aid of eight inillioiis of white people in your ardnons task, and these the white people among whom the larger part of rlie freedmen still live, among wham alone are to be found persons familiar with African character, and among whom alone has there ever been, or will there ever be an ingenuous personal affection for individuals of that race. We have lost the ability to guide, counsel, or instruct them. The lai-ger part of them evidently confound liberty with li- cense; and to them, liberty means living without earning a liv- ing. Accustomed to see their masters performing little man- ual labor (because they were necessarily occupied with the more imp(>rtant, and often more arduous, labor of superintendence), the freedmen assume that, to be free, is to be like their masters in the former particular. They forget this little difference, that a man cannot be usefully occupied in the labor of superintend- ence, when he has nobody to superintend. Your first task, sir, will be to convince them of this mistake, and, as I have proved, you are bound to do this, without causing or iiermitting them to suffer any painful conse(iuence of this error. Your emissaries, armed and clerical, diligently taught them that all the labor rendered by them in servitude was in- compensated; and that every dollar of the proceeds of that la- bor taken by the landholder, was a robbery from them. (A good and certain home and livelihood at all times, sustenance for their families, provision for their decrepitude, and main- tenance for those they left behind them are, in the eyes of these philosophers, no compensation at all, even f )r that labor which is least skilled; because, I presume, they were ;so secure and regular. And it is the established doctrine of the Abolition school, that, while labor is entitled to wages, capital is not; in accordance with which truth, those good people, as is well known, always lend out their money for nothing, and pay away the whole profits of their costly factories in wages to opera- tives.) The consequence of this doctrine amang the freedmen is this: They argue that all the property in the country being the fruit of their unrequited labor, they may now help them- selves to a fair return, wiienever and how^ever they can. Hence a habit of what we old fashioned Southerners used to call MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. 43 "theft," wliicli renders tbem of i-atliei- doubtful utility as liii-ed laborers. You will have a great deal of trouble, sir, in cor- recting this mistake; and again, I urge that j'ou are bound to do this, without permitting or causing the freedmen to taste any of its bitter consequences. For, I reason of this as of all other misconceptions which they learned of you, that you are solemnly bound not to let them suffer for what was your error. What, will you punish them for believing you? It would be a monstrous iniquity. You have tliis taslc then, gently to edu- cate them out of this innocent mistake of stealing everything which conies to their hand, by "moral suasion," without stocks, whipping posts, jails, or any such harsh measures; and mean- time, to generously repair all the evil consequences of those thefts, to themselves or others, out of your own inexhaustible pockets. Do you not think, sir, that to elTect this the "school- master" will have to go "abroad" pretty considerably? Thus one mischievous mistake chases another through their ignorant minds, fostered by designing and malicious men; and each one is a fatal obstacle in that path of sober industry where alone their welfare is to be found. You have a great task, sir, in causing them to unlearn these misconceptions. How many embarrassing self-contradictions your people will have to make in performing that task, it is not for me to indicate. Another of your difficulties will be ifound in the necessity for the displacement of a very large part of the black labor and population in many districts of the South. My own county may be taken as a fair example of the other parts of Virginia. There were in it about eight thousand blacks. Our wisest men of business are unanimous in declaring that under the new sys- tem of hireling labor, the industrial pursuits of the county can- not employ profitably more than one-third (some say not more than one-fifth) of the former labor, at prices which will give sub- sistence to the blacks. And their opinion is manifestly correct, because every business man who is questioned, individually, declares that he is constrained to reduce the labor employed by him in some such ratio. Now, this fact is not cited by me to argue from it the superior economy and productiveness of the former system, in that it was able to employ, upon the same soil, in a remunerative manner, three times or five times as 44 MAJOR GENERAL HOWARD. much hibor. (Aud that the empluymeut of it was remunerative is proved beyond a cavil by the prosperity jf enipk)yers and la- borers.) The only use I make of the fact is to show that two- thirds of this black population should at once emigrate; or it becomes unemployed, destitute, suffering and vicious. But the local attachmeuts of the African are predominant; and that spirit 3f adventure and enterprise, which carries the Virginian to the front wave of every tide of pioneer population, is as for- eign t(> his nature as frost is to his fervent native clime. The temper of the negro is to do just what he has been used to, aud nothing else. Here, sir. y )u have a problem which will tax 30ur ingenuity and f(»rce; how to displace two-thirds of the half million of blacks in Mrginia to a new soil, when they do not wish to go, have no capital, and are deficient in knowledge and thrift; and tj do this without a result of widespread desti- tution, domestic distress, disease and death. But, perhaps, the greatest of your difficulties is the one which has been hitherto least appreciated — the novelty of your task. You, sir, are appointed to do whait no other mortal has hitherto dDue successfully: to transmute four millions of slaves, of an alien race and lower culture, all at once into citizens, with- out allowing them to suffer or deteriorate on your hands. You have no precedents to guide you. You cannot resort to the pages of political history to find there the lights which may show you your momentous duties. But there is no other guide in political science. The machinery of maral causes, which forms a political society', is too complex for any finite mind to foresee, by its a priori speculations, what wheels tn^III be moved b}' the spring which he touches. His only safe guide is the experience of previous results under similar conditions. If he attempts to act beyond this his action is, in the worst sense, experiment; a blind guess, leading him by haphazard to un- forseen results. In the sciences of material things, these ex- periments have been useful and are legitimate. The philosopher may properly deal thus with his metallic ore; he may venture his unproved hypothesis concerning it; he may submit it to new solvents, or acids, or fires; oftentimes he will find that his hy- pothesis is false and leads to nothing; but sometimes he will find that it is the occasion of stumbling upon the key to one of Major genekal tiowARi). 45 nature's precious secrets. Now, his justiticatiou is tliat the ore which lie eats with corrosive acids, or melts iu his furnace, suf- fers nothing in this blundering process of questioning after new truth. It has no nerves to be fretted under his handling; no heart to be wrung; no sentient or intellectual destiny to be perverted or destroyed under his mistakes, and, above all, no immortal soul to be lost in his hands. But, in social science, mere experiments are crimes; for the subjects of them are im- mortal intelligences, endowed by God with a moral destiny, with hearts to bleed under errors, and never-dying souls to be lost. Fearful, then, is the responsibility of him who handles a social revolution new in the history of man. He must march; yet he cannot know" whether or not the path which he selects will lead him over the bleeding hearts and ruined destinies of his own charge. For such, the only adequate director is the Spirit of God; and his best resort is prayer. To that resort I sincerely and solemnly commend you; and close by subscribing 'myself. Your very obedient servant, ROBERT L. DABNEY, Sept. 12, 1865. Prince Edward County, Va. ABSTRACTIONISTS.' There are two ways o'f reasonino- about human affairs. One is, to bring- measures to the test of fundamental principles, and abide by their decision firmly. The other is, to inquire: "What is the dictate of policy, of expediency, of present utility?" There are two classes of minds in the world: the speculative, and the practical. The former seeks to analyze its objects of thought, to arrive at ultimate truths, and from those truths, to deduce its practical conclusions. The other only considers prop- ositions, in the light of their practical consequences as perceiv- ed by itself. The former looks at general laws: the latter at im- mediate results. Now the latter class of people have applied to the former, in these days of ours, a name, which is at least new in its pres- ent sense: abstractionists. It is subject of joy, for the sake of the credit of the Church, that this name was first invented among politicians; but it is to be lamented, that the Church's people have, to her disgrace, borrowed the name with its con- temptuous meaning, from the politicians. An abstraction, projxM-ly understood, means, a proposition considered as naked and gvneral, stripped of all the accidental circumstances which belong to 'a\\\ individual case under it. But the idea which some of those seem to have, whO' use the word as a term of contempt, is that it is just something* which is abstruse. Those who know what they mean by it, if there are any such, probably intend by abstractions, speculative principles, as opposed to ipractical conclusions. Among the many good results of popular government in church and state, there is this unfortunate one: that its usages tend to teach the governing minds to despise speculative thought, and reason only from present expediency. It is the popular mind, with which they have to deal: and that mostly in the fugitive form of oral address, or the flimsy newspaper ar- gument, where the whole result intended, is a momentary im- 1 Appeared in "Presbyterial Critic," June, 1855. 46 aSstraotionists. 4*7 pressioii. The minds addressed, are not trained to speculation, and could not comprehend it. Hence, public men are tempted to disuse it, till they become incapable of it themselves; and all profundity and breadth of view are neglected, or even de- spised, in reasoning of public affairs. Men aim only to catch the public ear by some shallow argument of present expediency; and brand all appeals to more fundamental truths "as abstrac- tions,"— gossamer speculations unworthy to bind the strong eommon sense of practical people. Thus, it is proposed, in fed- eral politics, to institute some measure, the argument for which is present utility. Its opponents object, that it is not within the legitimate scope of the federal instirutions; and to institute it would be a virtual breach of constitutional compacts. "Ah," says its advocate, "that is one of your 'abstractions.' Isn't the measure a good one in its practical elTect? Then why not adopt it?" Or, in church affairs; one good brother proposes, that the Church shall take into its own official hand, the business of education, and imbue it proper!}^ with the Christian element. Another brother objects, that to educate is not tlie divinely ap- pointed function of a church. "Why," asks the first, "don't you admit that all education ought to be Christian education?" "Oh, yes," says the respondent; "but it is the function of Chris- tian parents; combining, if necessary; but as parents, not as presbyters." "What of that?"' says the first; "our church schools are very good things: very harmless things as yet: and where is the difference between a combination of certain men as Christian parents, to make and govern a certain sort of school, and a combination of the :same men as presbyters to nuike the same sort of school?" "There is the difference of the princijtle involved," it is answered; "and it is never safe to admit a false principle." "Pshaw," says the first; "that is nothing but one of your 'abstractions.' " The term is intended to be one of contempt. It is sujiposed to describe something uncertain, vague, devious, sophisliral : as opposed to that which is positive, sensible and rt^iiable. The "abstractionist'' is represented as a man, fanciful and unrelia- ble; who pursues the intangible nioonshine of metapliysical ideas, until he and his followers "wander, in devious ma/.es lost." But if any of the men who attempt abstractions arc vague 48 ABSTRACTIONISTS. or sophistical, is it because they use abstract propos-itions ; or because they misuse them? If men choose to be careless or dis- honest in their thiuldug; — if they will mix or vary the terms of their propositions, or commit any other logical errors, they will be erroneous, however they may reason. And we assert, as an offset to this reproach, that no truths can be general, except those which are abstract: for by the very reason that concrete propositions are concrete, they must be particular, or indivi- dual; and therefore no deduction made from them, can have any certainty when it is attempted to give it a general application. The concrete is best for illustration, but for general reasoning it is useless: and all gentlemen who are accustomed to boast, that they are not '^abstractionists," thereby confess that their arguments are only illustrations. If they wish to glorify their logic therein, the}' are welcome. But that any educated man should indulge in this slang of the hustings and the demagogue, is derogatory to his own intel- ligence, and his fraternity. For every man of information ought to know-, that abstractions are the most practical things in the world. His reading ought to remind him how directly the most abstract truths have led on to the most practical conclusions; how inev^itably they work themselves out into practical results, and how uniformly the most practical truths depend for their evidence on those which are abstract. There is no branch of human science, which does not teem with illustrations of this. Our anti-abstractionists would probably consider it rather a shadowy question, if they were called to debate whether or not Galvanism and Magnetism are generically distinct or like; two somethings impalpable, invisible, imponderable, which we hardly know whether to call substances or not. Yet, on the an- swer to that question depended the invention of the Magnetic Telegraph, with all its very practical results, in the regulating of the prices of breadstuffs, the catching of fugitive rogues, and the announcement of the end of dead emperors. Latent caloric strikes us as a rather abstract thing: a something which no hu- man nerve ever has, or ever will feel, and which the most deli- cate thermometer does not reveal. And about this shadowy something, a very shadowy proposition has been proved by your contemptible abstractionists : namely, that in certain cases, sen- AiisTkAtJTto^ts'rs. 4^1 sibie liejit becomiug latent, iucivasas elasticit.^v. This is tlie ab^ stractioii which revealed to mankind the secret steam engine; and which now propells our boats, spins our cloths, grinds our flour, saws our lumber, ploughs the ocean with our floating palaces, whirls us across continents in the rail-cars, and some- times scalds or cripples us by the score. A rather practical thing, is this abstraction. Or, let us take illustrations from the moral sciences. Ev- ery well informed man ouglit to know that the abstract ques- tion, whether general ideas are substances, c )nception, or names, once almost threw p]uroi)e into fits, armed universities, and even commonwealths against each other, and probably cost John Huss his life. \\'hether what we call causation is a real and necessary connexion, or merely an observed sequence of events, is a very abstract question: but it makes all the dif- ference between a God and no (lod: yea, all the difference be- tween the blessings, civilization, wholesome restraints and hap- piness of religion, and the license, vice, atrocity and despair of Atheism. Indeed your thorough Atheist, is the only true and ccmsistent anti-abstractionist. Jonathan Edwards' work on the wall, is usually thought rather an abstract book, on a rather ab- stract subject. Its great question is, whether volitions are cer- tain, according to the prevalent bent of the dispositions, or self- determining. But the answer to this abstract question decides authoritatively between Calvinism and Pelagianism. Presby- terians, we think, have found the latter quite a practical mat- ter! Can human merit be imij^ited to another human being, in (rod's government, as it is in man's? "A very useless, unprac- tical (juestion," you say. "I don't care to speculate in such unsubstantial merchandise.'' Well, from the aflirmative an- swer to that question Thomas Aquinas deduced the grand sys- tem of Papal Indulgences. Here is an abstraction aut of which grew a good many important matters: such as a good many mil- lions of crowns transferred out of the pockets of good Catho- lics, into those of "his Holiness the Pope"; — the zeal of Luther against Tetzel, and thence the Keformation — with English lib- erty and through that, American: with a good many other very practical affairs. But enough. The most abstract propositions have often divided nations, and led to wars, revolutions, and 50 ABSTRACTIONISTS. convulsions: just as that abstraction, ^'whether a man can rif^htfully own as property, the labor of a fellow man without his voluntary consent." now threatens our nation wdth fratrici- dal and suicidal war. There is no practical truth, in the evi- dence of which an abstract one is not concerned. There is no abstract truth which may not lead, by lofjical necessity, to prac- tical results. How unthinking, and iiinorant ought a man to be, in order to utter an honest, sincere sneer against dealings and dealers in abstractions? Very sinpid indeed. Again; such sneers are always inconsistent. Every man is an abstractionist, except perhaps the materialist — atheist, who does not believe there is any God, because he has never seen Him, or that he has any soul, because he cannot handle it. Those who contemptu- ously disavow it, only do so' when the abstractions are against them; and strenuously use similar abstractions, on their own side. How literally has this been verified in federal politics? In truth, no man can help it; for the foundation of every man's right, theory, or project, whatever it may be, is on an abstract principle. And the veriest red-R(^i)ubliran of them all, who thinks he has trampled down every abstraction, still relies on his own favorite ones, to sustain his radicalism. Says the Agrarian: ''Here is my rich neighbor, who has more than he can possibly use. or even waste. How much better to take away a part, and give it to me. who need a little capital to en- able me to be a producing citizen. You will thereby benefit me, the state, and my rich nt^ghbor himself : for he is so rich that it is an actual injury to him." You object, that the rights of property are in the way; and that it is of more fundamental importance to the state, that those rights should be protected, and that every man should be certain of the rewards of his in- dustry, than that property should be etiually distributed. These ■Ai-i' m his eyes, nothing but abstractions. Why should a citizen be kei)t back from obvious and present advantage, by the goss- amer threads of those abstract rights? So he helps himself liberally to his neighbor's property, and thus becomes a man of property himself. And now. lol he forthwith invokes those ab- stract rights of property, to defend his new acquisitions against other red-Republicans, as greedy as himself, but still poorer. But the serious and lameniablc point about all this decry- ABSTRACTIONISTS. 51 iii^ of abstractions is. that where it is intelligently and delib- erately uttered, it is thoroughly profligate. What is it all, but a demand that principle shall give way to expediency? All the principles of morals, in their last analysis, are abstractions. The distinction between right and wrong is an abstraction, as pure and disembodied as was ever presented by metaphysics. And in short, the difference between an honest man and a scoundrel, is but this: that the former is governed by a general principle, which is an abstraction, in opposition to the present concrete prospect of utility; while the latter is governed by his view of present expediency, in opposition to the general princi- ple. What else do we mean by saying that a man is unprinci- pled? In the eyes of such a man, the restraints of a constitu- tion which he has sworn to support, are abstractions, whenever they seem to oppose the present dictates of expediency. All those broad and wise considerations, which show how much more important is a consistent adherence to general principles, than the gain of a temporary and partial advantage by their vio- lation, are but abstractions. And with the same justice, though with greater impiety, it rndght also be said, that the immutable principles of eternal rectitude, to which flod coinpels all the interests of the universe to bend, at whatever ooist of individual misery, are abstractions. What, for instance, is the i)rinciple. which constitutes the necessity for an atonement? What, ex- cept that necessary connexion, which the unchangeable perfec- tions of God have established between the abstract guilt of sin, and the penalty? ''Now here is a penitent man,'' says the Socinian; "a wondrous pious, proper man: he is never going to sin any more: (the self-determining power 'Of his own will has decided that.) Who will be the worse for his pardon? Why should he go to perdition, poor fellow, for a mere abstraction?" All this sneering has ever sounded mournfully in our ears, as a revelation of the unscrupulousness of the age. And to be called an abstractionist, has we confess, been always received rather as a compliment, than a rei)roach. It puts us in ad- mirably good company; — along v.ith all the profound thinkers, and the stable, noble souls, whose brave motto has been ^'Obsta principiis." And when the philosopliic historian shall come to write, in future ages, the. hist orv of the Decline and Fall of the 52 ABSTRACTIONISMS. Empire Republic, lie will mark it as the most giorioiis tnbute to the public virtue of one school of our statesmen, that they were branded by unthinking or unscrupubus adversaries, as Abstractionists. And let none say, that in these words, we have violated that delicate neutrality towards national parties, which becomes a religious periodical. The honor of both the great parties of the nation, equally approves and demands the senti- ment. For the sneer would have seemed as profligate and odious in the ears of a Hamilton or a Marshall, as in those of a Madison or a Calhoun. "But. is there not a style of reasoning, which calls itself general and abstract, which is, in fact, unreliable, misty, and deceptive? This," some will say. ''is what we mean by abstrac- tions.'' Well, good reader, you express your meaning very un- fortunately. When next you hear men using propositions, which they suppose general, in a manner vague and sophistical, we pray 3'ou, in the name of intelligence, sound lo^c. and sound principle, do not express your dissent, by saying that they are abstractions, say simply that they are untrue. THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY.' If this phrase appear to auy reader paradoxical, a very lit- tle reflection will convince him that it is only so in appearance. For, the greatest organized wrongs which the civilized world has seen perpetrated in modern times, upon the well-being of mankind, have been committed under the amiable name of hu- manity. Xo despotic government now avows the ruthless pur- pose of self-aggrandizement and of the gratification of hatred and the lust of power; but its pretense is always the good of society', and the welfare of the governed. The wars of the ''Holy Alliance," which drenched Europe in blood at the beginning of this century were all undertaken nominally for the peace and liberties of Europe. No demagogue confesses, in popular gov- ernments, the greedy ambition or avarice which proves to be his secret motive: but he seeks only the good of the "dear peo- ple," while he betrays them into mischievous anarchy or legis- lative atrocities. The religious persecutions, which have made nominal Chris- tianity the scourge of humanity, have all professed the same kindly purpose. When the excellent St. Augustine first exerted his influence and logic to make them respectable, he argued against the Donalists, that, as the parent chastises a wayward son to save him from the ruin of his vices; or as a physician rouses the lethargic patient by pungent cataplasms, so the church, the guardian of souls, might lovingly rescue her way- ward children from the curse of heresy, by imprisonments, fines and stripes. And this is the argument of persecution in all ages. All the racks, the funeral pyres, the aiitos da fe with which the Inquisition blackened Europe, were justified by this plea of love. Men were slain with protracted and exquisite tor- tures, out of mere humanity, and to save their beloved souls at the expense of their sinful flesh. It was from the same amiable impulse that Simon de Monfort went from the devout participa- tion in the Lord's supper, to the storming and sack of Albigen- 1 Appeared in "Ttie Land We Love:' December, 1866. 53 54 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. sian towns, and ilie butclicrv of tlicir women and children. These enormities of a darker age are now as much deplored by enlightened and liberal Catholics as by Protestants themselves The crusades against the Moslems also, justified their incon- ceivable barbarities, in part by a humane pretence: It was the protection and assistance of Holy Palmers, in their pilgrimages to the sacred places in Palestine, which moved the crusaders, along with zeal for the honor of Christ's sepulchre. Another instance is presented by the cobnial enterprises of the Spaniards and I'ortugese in tropical America. In all these voyages and wars, which entailed upon the feeble aborigines the untold horrors of extermination, a devout and philanthropic enthusiasm was an active cause. Columbus himself was as much a missionary as a votary of science, in his life-long dreams of discovery. He proposed to the King and Queen of Spain the extension of the blessings of the gospel, as much as of their em- pire, as the end of his projects; and wherever he and his suc- cessors landed upon the soil of America, they set up the cross alongside of the banner of Castile. Of the Spanish adventurers, Prescott says: "Their courage was sullied with cruelty; the cruelty that flowed equally — strange as it may seem — from their avarice and their religion; religion as it was understood in that age, the religion of the crusader. It was the convenient cloak for a multitude of sins, which covered them even from himself. The Castilian, too proud for hypocrisy, committed more cruel- ties in the name of religion, than were ever practiced by the pagan idolater or the fanatical Moslem. The burning of the infidel was a sacrifice acceptable to heaven, and the conversion of those w^ho survived, amply atoned for the foulest offenses. It is a melancholy and mortifying consideration, that the most ancompromlsing spirit of intolerance — the spirit of the Inquisi- [or at home, and of the Crusader abroad — should have emanat- ed from a religion which preached peace on earth, and good will towards man!" So, the contrast between Pizarro and his tw^o partners, for the conquest of Peru, begins by invoking in the most solemn manner, the names of the ''Holy Trinity and our Lady the Blessed Virgin.'' — "In the name of the Prince of Peace," says Eobertson, "they ratified a contract, of which plunder and bloodshed were the objects." Of the same tran- 1'IIE CRIIMES OF PlIILANTHltOPY. 5") gaetion Prescott reinarks: "The invocation of heaven Vv'as na- tural, where the object of the undertaking,^ was, in part, a re- ligious one. Religion entered more or less into the theory, at least, of the Spanish conquests in the new world." * « * "It was indeed a fiery cross that was borne over the devoted land, scathing and consuming it in its terrible progress; but it was still the cross, the sign of man's salvation, the only sign by which generations yet unborn were to be rescued from eternal perdition." Thus it would seem the piety of Christendom has projected itself upon Asia and America as a flood of rapine and destruc- tion. Nor can the Anglo-Saxon race of Protestants claim ad- vantages over the Peninsular, in the results of their enterprises in America, as to the aborigines. They crossed the ocean pro- fessedly in pursuit of freedom, religious liberty and cirilizatiou. The consequence of their appearance has been likewise the ex- termination of the red man. But the missions planted by ecclesiastics in tropical Amer- ica presented a still more glaring perversion. Until the begin- ning of this century, in some of these missions, military expe- dirions were annually equipped by the holy fathers, against the neighboring pagan tribes, piously termed cazas de las almas. "hunts for souls," for the purpose of capturing as many per- sons as they could, and subjecting them to a compulsory bap- tism and training. These involuntar}- converts were then dis- tributed among the families of the priests or the Christianized Indians, to be trained by servitude to habits of industry and morality. Thus, armed men were seen, in the name of human- ity and mercy, assailing and burning towns, murdering help- less families, and dragging the wretched survivors into bondage with all the ferocity of the African slave-catcher. When the cruelties of these various forms of religious fa- naticism are considered, it is not allowable to account for them by asserting the conscious hypocrisy of the perpetrators. From the days of Saul of Tarsus until these, many a persecutor could doubtless say, that they ''verily thought" they ought to do these things. In many a scourge of humanity, the evidences of sin- cerity have been unquestionable; and the general inteerity of 56 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. character has served only to enforce the rigor of their deter- mination. In the instances which have been now cited, other pur- poses haA'e been mixed with those of philanthro'py, and have perhaps been thv main ones, whilc^ the humane designs were secondary. liut yt4 more remarkable examples have occurred, where the most cruel intlictions which have cursed mankind, have sprung out of the express purpose to contmbute ta his wel- fare; and where the very apostles of hummity have shown themselves the most vindictive towards their fellow men. The reader of history will recall to mind that the African slave trade, with all its jierpetual intestine wars, its burnings, mas- sacres and rapes, its chains and dungeons, and the horrors of the "middle passage," originated in a compassionate plan of the benevolent r>arthoIom(Mv Las ("asas, to relieve the Indians of the Spanisli Islands from the burden of slavery. It was his sympathy with their suftVrings, which caused him to invent this expedient, of substituting the h.irdier Xt^gro under the yoke. But the eminent instances of the crimes of philanthropy are those O'f our own age. And among these, none stands higher in this bad eminence tlian the ''reign of terror ' under the ascen- dency of the French democrats, at the close of the last century. The first revolution in France was especially the work of its infidel, humauitaiian p]iiloso})liers; who taught the perfecti- bility of human nature, th(^ natural I'igiits and ebjects. Their justice, benevolence, and sympathy are imper- fect fragments amidst the ruins of their fallen nature. These ruins, none but God can reconstruct; and this He does through the grace revealed in Christianity. The discussion has hither- to 'been conducted upon the assumption claimed by the human- itarians, that the motives prompting their intervention were in- nocent; and all that has been hitherto urged is their insuffi- ciency. But this is not the whole of the argument. God's in- fallible truth declares that all men, the philanthropists and the sufferers, the pliilosophers and their pupils, are fallen creatures; that true righteousness is overpowered in them by sin, that the partial good impulses which remain as the reliques of paradise are inferior and weak, and that the various elements of selfish- ness are in the ascendant in every unregenerate will. Partial impulses of social affection, of generosity, of sympathy, of hon- or, illuminate in different degrees the natures of these men; and far be it from us to deny their sincerity, but they are not in the permanent ascendant. Sin is the ruler and tyrant of all natural hearts. Now, if these things are indeed so, and the hu- manitarians obstinately refuse to admit them, their blindness to the nature of their own motives only aggravates their reck- lessness, and the danger of mischief. Is their intervention for THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. 69 tlieir suffering fellow men prompted by genuine sympatln'? Let it be admitted; but this principle is unstable; and so surely as they are men, the other principles, love of power, iDve of ap- plause, conceit, pride, ambition, self-righteousness, or some of them, are mingled in some ratio, in every beneficent action. Let the unworthinetss or ingratitude of the objects, or mortifica- tion of failure, or opposition concerning the methods of benevo lence, supervene, and how easily, how naturally, do the move- ments of philanthropy slide into those of the malignant emo- tions. Thus is generated the monster, fanaticism; in which all that remains of the beneficent purpose is a pretext, to blind the mind of the fanatic to the true nature of his emotions, and to sanctify to himself all their enormities. The cold and glittering enthusiasm of the imagination is coimbined with the malignant passions of self-displaj^, lust of power, and hatred; and the whole, borrowing the sacred name of philanthropy, goes forth upon its destroying career. The true character of this fanaticism may be disclosed by easy tests. If love were tlie true spring of its pretended zeal, tliat benignant emotion ought to dis])lay itself consistently, in the general life, and especially in the daily practiced duties of home and family, which should hold the first place in every healthy conscience. But when the private life of your fiery de- claimer against social wrongs is examined, it is usually found to be characterized by domestic harshness, injustice and selfish- ness; his wife, his children, his servj'.nts, feel little of that abounding beneficence which he delights to ventilate abroad concerning the wrongs of the distant and unknown. On the other hand, the men of practical kindliness, who actualh^ exer- cise a generous and self-denying benevolence, in that home- s[)here, where benevolence is most practicable, are seldom found among these self-constituted assertors of the wrongs of human- ity. Moreover, let any individual among the pretended objects of his sympathy be brought to their own door, and thrown upon this actual help; he will be very likely to find it a most unsub- stantial dei)endence. The fiery philan-fhropist will speedily reach him that while he is very willing to gratify Ms malice by scolding his opponents, or his pride by parading his benevo- lence, he has little thought of sacrificing either his own money or convenience for the sufferer. 70 THE CRIMES OF PHILANTHROPY. F'rom this pisition, the mischievous and corniptiiij? effects of preached crusades against organized siocial systems which are supposed to be evil, receives a facile explanation. Chris- tianity and its true ministers make it their main business to ad- dress the individual; and their topics are his own duties and sins. They separate him, they tell him his spiritual necessities; they say: "Thi»u art the man"; they tfMcli him to make his own spiritual amendment his chief care. Thus, by sanctifying each individual, human society is effectually regenerated; and or- ganic evils easily disappear. Hut when once the pulpit is per- verted to declaim habitually against the public sins of com- munities, and to agitate for their reform, the individual is en- couraged to loise sight of his own errors (the only ones he is re- sponsible for, or able to reform), and to occupy himself with the wrong-doings of others. But these are of course, painted in constant contrast with his own rectitude; so that this preaching, in.stead of inculcating humility and sanctity, is nothing but a aninistratian of spiritual pride, arrogance, and hatred. And hence its popularity. It is much more agreeable to an evil heart, to be reniind(Hl of its own superior excellence, and to be invited to the work of reviling its opponents, than to be sum- moned to the toils of self-discipline, the mortifications of per- sonal contrition, and the crucifixion of carnal affections. REPLYOFR. LDABNEY, I). D, To the Letter of General Joseph E. Johnston, Criticising Dr. Dabney's Narrative of the First Battle of Manassas. To the Editors of Richmond Dispatch, June 21, 1861 . (Tentleiiieii: Accident recently brought to my attention the remarks published in your paper .of March 24:th by General Jo- seph E. Johnston upon the narration of the part borne by the Stonewall brigade in the battle of Manassas contained in niij life of (leneral T. J. Jackson. So far as these corrections have revealed error in my statements, I receive them thankfully, and shall not fail to employ them, as soon as it is in w\\ power, for the perfecting of the accuracy of my narration. The high posi- tion and services of General Johnston, which none honor and appreciate more ci)rdially than myself, do indeed render it al- most a presumptuous attempt to question the correctness of any of his representations, especially when made by one in my ob- scure place. But even to such a one the reputation for integrity of purpose, at least, is very jtrecious. I therefore beg leave to exhibit in your columns some of the testimonies by which I sup- pose myself to be sustained in the statements made. 1 hope ev- ery reader will be charitable enough, when he examines these witnesses, to conclude that, if I have been misled, it wjjs with- out evil intentions, and was not unnatural with such guides be- fore me. I shall take up the points which I purpoise to notice mainly in the order of General Johnston's letter. 1. But first, I must endeavor to acquit myself of the charge of disparaging some of General Jackson's comrades, whom, if I knew my own thoughts, I was only seeking, in my bungling way, to honor. General Johnston says: "This account of the battle does great injustice to General Beauregard, and to Bee's and Early's brigades ;vnd their commanders. General Jackson's great fame is in no degree enhanced by such disparagements of his associates." The reader is requested to bear in mind the following genera] caution against such impressions contained 72 REPLY OF R. L. DA15NEY, D, D. in iny preface, page 0: "And especially would I declare that, in relating the share borne by General Jackson's comrades and subordinates in his campaigns, I have been actuated by a cordial and friendly desire to do justic-^ to all. If I shall seem to any to have done less than this, it will be my misfortune, and not my intention." But it is more to the point to refer to my words oi) page 215 of the narrative: ''The other twa" (reserve bri- gades) "were those of Generals Bee and Jackson, and the hero- ism of these two was sufficient to reinstate the wavering for- tunes of the day," etc. Bee i-s mentioned first, and with the same approbation as Jackson. Is tliis a disparagement? On page 218. I say of Bee and Evans: "For two hours these two officers, with five regiments and six guns, had breasted the Fed- eral advances." etc. (I had before stated th:it this advance was nf 20,000 men.) Does tliis disparage Bee? On page 222 I at- tempt in my poor way to describe Bee's heroic end. exactly as it was detailed to me by those who saw it, in the most honora- ble words I could find. Oeneral Early and his brigade are men- tioned by name, but their exploits are not described fully, be- cause they acted on another part of the field, and had no special connection, as Bee had, with the movements of my own subject. Jacksion. And finally, on page 228. to guard against any pos- siWe apprehension unjust to others, these words are inserted: "The object of this narrative has been to give such a sketch of the whole battle as to make the part borne by the Stonewall brigade and its leader intelligible. -r.wA to give fuller details of the conduct of the General who^e life is the subject of this work. The reader will not infer from this that all the stubbtrn and useful fighting was done by Jackson and his command. Other officers and other brigades displayed equal heroism, and con- tributed essentially to the final result," etc. 2. General Johnston questions my correctness in the ac- count I gave of the surrender of C:>lonel Jackson's command to him at Harper's Ferry. The point of difference between them was. that whereas General Johnston claimed to relieve Colonel J., at once, the latter refused to surrender his trust until au- thorized in some sliajje to do so by those who had committed it to him — his State authorities. And the point of difference be- tween General Johnston and me now is that I say Colonel J. was inflexible, and actually continued to hold his pawer until, REPLY OF R L. DABiSTEY, D. D- 73 oppoi-tunely. the anrliority to transfer it raiuc in tlie sliapo of an eudorsenieut of General Lee on a paper; wliile General John- ston says: "There was no display of inflexibility on Jackson's l»art/" that he was euli<;hted by Majjr Whiting, and that my representation "does injustice to General Jackson's character.'' I did not conceive that it was my business as a historian to re- liect whether the incident was favorable or unfavorable to Gen- eral Jackson's character, but to tell the exact trutli as it haj*- jieucd. That I did not misrej)reseut it is shown by the letter wliicli (Jeneral Johnstjn himself quotes, saying: "Until I re- ceive further instructions from Governor Letcher or (Jeneral Lee I do not feel at liberty to transfer my command to anothei*. and must therefore decline publishing- the order," etc. ' I have had the very letter containing General Lee's endoi'sement — which happily solves the diflflculty — in my p3ssession. (I re- turned it to Mrs. J., who doubtless has it now.) And if any one questions whether Colonel J. had receded from his i)ositi(»n before receiving it. I would suggest that he ask the fact of his aid. Colonel James Massie, 3f Lexington, Va. 8. I now pass to another point. General Jidinsron. dis- senting fr.om any o])inii)n that it wdiild liave been better to marcli the remainder of the Army of the Valley direct to the bar- tlefield from PieduiDut statiou, instead of waiting upon con- fused and dilatory trains of cars, sa^vs: "The fact that tlu^e tro'opvsi were two days in marching twenty-three miles from (Winchester to Piedmiont) shows that they could not have marched thirty-four miles, from Piedmont to the scene of ac- tion, in less than two days, and that the only hope of getting tliem into the battle was by the railroad.'' I had spoken of Jackson as having made a forced march of thirty miles from Piedmont, which is charged as an error, liut I expressly re})resented that march as beginning, uot at \\'in- chester. but neu'th of Winchester (p. 211). But grant a slight error of miles here. From Piedmont ta Gainsville is twenty- six miles, and by a map furnished me from the bureau of Gen- eral Gilmer of the Engineers, Gainsville is four miles from Groveton b;v turnpike. So that the distance to be marched on foot, to get intj action, was thirty miles, not thirty-four. Now. General Jackson, on that occasion, marched to Piedmont in one day. Why could not the rest of the troops do the same? They T4 F.EPLY OF K. L. DABXEY, D. D. left Wiiu-liester ;rt 12 m. Thursday. The third day brought ex- actly midday d the great battle. The next March, in short days. General Jackson marched his army seventy-five miles in three da^vw. and fought the battle of Kernstown besides. Why could not the remainder of the Army of the Valley march fifty- three miles (General Johnston's measure to Groveton) in three days, when there was no battle to fight by the way? My opin- ion was. obviously, not grounded on the supposition that the rrooj)s were to be allowed to dawdle along the road in a man- ner which General Jackson's brigade ]»roved to be unneces- sary. As to the destitution of food ar riedmont, xhjse who ques- tion the fact are respectfully referred to tlie officers and men of the Thirty-eighth Virginia regiment (foi- instance). They will receive from tliem statements which will account very fully for my impression on that subject. No explanation of the fact was advanced by me. 4. The next point of General Johnston's criticism is my account of General Beauregard's first plan o'f action and its re- linciuishment. If the reader will collate the different para- graphs in which I state that matter (from pp. 218 to 217) he will find that my representation was substantially this: That General B.'s original plan had been to take the aggressive and attack at Centerville, but S3 few of the troops of General J. had arrived by Saturday night that he was com])elled to postpone it; that when the enemy took the initiative, Sunday morning. General B. still recimimended the carrying out of ^so much of tliat original plan as to advance our right and center on Center- ville as sojn as the enemy's ]»urposf to direct his main attack on our extrtMue left was perceived, which suggestion General J. accepted; that corresponding orders for sucli a movement of the right and cf'uter were actually issiied. and that tliey miscar- ried; that when the fact became apparent that thoise orders were not executed in suflicient time, the generals necessarily relinquished that excellent plan, and wisely contented them- selves with bringing up everything within reach for the imme- diate support of the left. Let the reader now consider the fol- lowing authorities hy w^hich I attempted to guide myself, and I think he will feel that I have committed no serious error, and certainly no intentional one: General Ewell, then brigadier (whose letter I have before REPLY OF K. L. DABNKY, D. D. 75 me), savis: "His (B."s) plan for sonic time, as explained in f re- fluent inferviews with his brigade coniiiianders, had been ta move forward his ri<;iit and center, and attack." Next (leneral B., in his otiticial report, says that at 4:.'i0 a. m. of the 21st (Sun- day) he lordei-ed these ti'oops to be in readiness. (\Vhicli order General Kwell states he received and observed.) Next, in an- other part of his report (Jeneral B. istates that he thonjiht an attack by his rij^ht winjj; and center was the best means of re- lieving his leftj an<] tliat the dispositions were submitted to General Johnstcm, and the orders issued. Next, a letter from General B. to (General Ewell, July 2(5, ISOl, has the following words: "I do not attach the slif^htest bhtinie to you for the fail- ure of the ULovement on Centerville, bnt to the jj^uide, who did not deliver the order to move forward, si'ut at about 8 o'clock a. ni. to General Holmes, and then to you — corresponding in ev- ery respect to the one sent to (lenerals -I ones, Lonostreet, and Ivonham — only their movements were snbordinate to yours." * * * "I am fully awaiv that yon did all that could be ex- pected of you or your command. I mereh' expressed my re- gret that my original '}»lan conld not be carried into effect, as it would have been a most coniplete victory witli only half the trouble and fighting. The true cauise of countermanding your forward movement after you had crossed was that it was then too late, as the enejny were about to annihilate our left flank, and had to be met and checked there, for otherwise he would have taken us on the flank and rear, and all would have been lost." ''N. B. — The order sent you at about 8 a. m. to commence the movement on Centerville was addressed to General Holmes and 3'ourself, as he was to support you; but being nearer Camp Pickeus, the headquarters, than Union IMills, where you were, it was to be communicated to him fii'st, and then to you; but he has informed me that it never reached him." Tlius wrote Gen- eral Beauregard to General Ewell five days after the battle. If I understaud the points of General Johnston's objections to my rendering of the facts hei'e given, they are these: First. That I err in rei)resenting the giving of the orders to advance the right and center as occurring when the Yankee attack on the left was developed; whereas, says General Johnston, they were then countermanded. (10:;')0 a. m. is the hour lie gives.) And Becond. That I disparage General Beauregard by representing 76 REPLY OF U L. DABXKY, D D. him as doing a foolish and ruinous thing, which, had lie done it, would have kept six brigades out of tiie fight, and surely lost the ddy. Xow, the reader should note that it is not I, but Gen- eral Johnston, who gives 10:80 a. m. as the earliest hour at which lunidquarters knew where the -main Yankee attack was to be. (I, for my part, should not have dreamed of making so disparaging a statement.) I didn't presume bo mention the hour. But I represented Greneral B. as still entertaining the jmrpose of advancing his right and center after it was perceived our left wa;3 to be the main point of attack, and as the best means of relieving it. Does not General Beauregard's letter bear me out? General J. says General B. could not have list- ened for the thunder of his batteries on the heights of Center- ville, for none was sent there. Does not General B.'s letter de- clare that /le thoti^ht he had sent some there? Last, says Gen- eral J., six brigades would have been kept out of the fight. These six were Holmes's, Ewell's, P^arly's. Jones's. Longstreet's, and Bonham's. I reply, (5) five were kept out. Early's w^as the only one of the six actually engaged on the left. Holmes's, the only one of the rest which reached the ground, was in position, but did not fire a musket. But take General Johnston's own figures, whicli show that at half-past 10 o'clock a. m. he learned, at once, that the orders for the advance of the right and center had miscarried, and that the main A'ankee attack was on the left. Could not Generals. Bonham, Longstreet, Jones, and Ew- ell, still have marched three miles and a half to Centerville, having been in readiness to do so since half-past 4 a. m.? Jack- son held the key to the position on Young's branch until 3 p. m., and certainly received no aid from these brigades. 5. The next, and doubtless the main point with General Johnston, is the oinnion advanced by General Jackson and de- fended by me — that the pursuit sliould have been pressed, and Washington threatened. General Johnston justifies his cav- alry for not pursuing farther, because, says he, ''it was driven back by the solid resistance of the United States infantry." In the same paragraph he says: "The infantry was not reciuired to continue the pursuit, because it would have been harrassing it to no purpose. It is well known that infantry unencumbered by baggage trains can easily escape pursuing infantry." Thus we are told in the same breath that the Yankee infantry was REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D.D. 77 running so fast that it was useless for the conquering Confed- erate infantry to fatigue itself by trying to overtake it; and that the Yankee infantry was at the same time standing so staunchly as to beat off Radford's regiment of cavalry, and to make attack by all the Cbnfederate cavalry (J. E. B. Stuart's regiment, etc.) improper. If the Yankees wei'e making so bold a stand, was not that a place for the conquering infantry to strike'.' But 'farther: The Yankee resistance by which Colonel Rad- ford's onset was momentarily arrested (he being temporarily unsupported) was not solid, and .-hould not have put an end to the pursuit. The evidence is in a letter from Colouel Delaware Kemper, of the artillery, now under my eye, which states that "immediately after the repulse of the enemy'?; tiual attack he accompanied Colonel Kershaw" (who then was followed by his own and Cash's South Carolina regiment) "in pursuit of the enemy along the turnpike. About dark we arrived within 300 or 400 yards of the suspension bridge over Cub Run, and found the fugitives along the turnpike crowding across the bridge, mingled with the Yankee troops who were retreating by the Sudley road, which intersects the turnpike just west of this bridge. I opened fire upan these masses and elicited no reply; but in a few minutes not a Yankee was within range, all having fled towards Centerville, leaving in our hands fifteen or sixteen pieces of artillery, many wagons, etc." Thus Captain Kemper, pursued beyond the point at whic-h oiu- cavalry was temporarily checked, showing that it should have gone on. With reference to the recalling of infantry from the pursuit to meet an imag- inary advance of Yankees on our extreme right. General John- ston simply flouts the whole statement, and says: ''No troops were recalled from the chase, and sent seven or eight miles, by night or day, to meet an imaginary enemy." When the reader considers the following testimony his breath will probably be as nearly taken away by this as mine was. 1 have under my eye a letter from Colonel R. E. Withers, com- manding the Eighteenth Virginia regiment, from which I ex- tract the following words: "The Eighteenth Virginia was the first regiment which crossed Bull Run in pursuit. Kershaw's Second South Carolina and Cash's Eighth South Carolina following almost immediate- ly. The officers of these (3) three regiments had a rapid con- 78 KEPLY OF R L. DABNEJY, D D saltation, and agreed upon tlie mode of advance, and speedily I>iit the men in morion, moving by columns of companies on each side of the pike. Before proceeding very far, however, I received, through an officer of General Beauregard's staff, an order of recall, directing me to march my regiment back to the Stone bridge. About the time we reached the bridge another officer rode up, and inquired as to the condition of my regiment and its capacity for further service. My reply was that the men were wearied and hungry, but that the bss of the regi- ment in battle had not exceeded forty or fifty, and that we were ready to perform any duty which might be deemed neces- sary. He then told me that 'the General" had just received in- formation that a heavy column of the enemy was advancing in the direction of Union Mills, threatening an attack on Manas- sas junction, and as all the trooiis had been withdrawn from that place, it was in great danger. This was just before sun- set. We immediately started for Manassas, and pushed forward as rapidly as the exhausted condition of the men would permit. When we reached the 'McLean House,' near Manassas, we were met by orders directing us to go to Camp Walker, on Bull Run a short distance above Union Mills; which >place we reached about midnight. The next morning we were ordered back to Manassas, and thence to our former position near Ball's ford, on Bull Kun. where we bivouacked in the rain, and remained until Tuesday evening, or Wednesday morning. ♦ * * | presumed that several other regiments received orders similar, as they also were marched back to Manassas, and one or two of them to Gamp Walker." So far Colonel Withers. Colonel H. A. Carrington, then of the Eighteenth Virginia, says: "We. af- ter sunset, marched seven miles in the direction of our lines on the right, when the rumored advance proved to be unfounded, and the regiment was permitted to rest for the night. The next day, in a drenching rain, we were marched back to the battle- field, and camped on the banks of Bull Run within one-quarter of a mile of the scene of confiict.'' With reference to the question of pursuit and of threaten- ing Washington City, let us first consider how far my position extends. On page 236 this is rery distinctly defined in the fol- lowing words: ''They (the generals) are not to be condemned by history because they did not take Washington, but because KEPLY OF R. L. DABNEY. D D. 79 they didn't try." Even this qualified opinion I should uever have presumed to advance before the public on my own judj^- ment or on that of the amateur sohliers and newspaper critics, whom General Johnston so justly despises. Ir was only when I was confirmed in it by the great authority of General Jack- son that I ventured to advance it; and my motive was only t(j defend his credit, after stating, as the truth of history compelled me to do, the fact of his expressing such opinions. It was in May or June, 1802, that, being alone with General Jackson in his quarters, I ventured to mention the general expectation and desire of our troo'ps at Manassas to endeavor at once to im- prove our victory, and to ask him whether that desire was ig- norant and foolish. His brow immediately knit, and striking his little writing table with his hand, he replied: "The neglect of the attempt was a deplorable blunder. Did you know, that on the morning after the battle 10,000 fresh troops reached Manassas, expecting nothing but to be led against the enemy?" I replied: "I myself saw large arrivals, for I had gone with our wounded from the battlefield to the Junction, and witnessed the coming in of nearly a mile of cars clustered with soldiers like swarming bees, all cheering and shouting, but I did not know how many of them there were." General Jackson said: "Yes, sir, there were ten thousand of them." He then proceeded briefly, but emphatically, to state the leading ideas on which I grounded the discussion in my book. As my word anay go for nothing in this matter, I may here say in passing that if any one doubts whether I represent General Jackson's opinion aright herein, he can satisfy himself l)y resorting to the Hon. Alexander Boteler, to wliom (}(meral Jackson expressed sub- stantially the same view^ in July, 1S(;2, at Harrison's lauding. General Johnston thinks that had Jackson estimated the policy at Manassas as I represent him, he could not have refrained from expostulating. All I can say is, that I heard him say what I 'have above stated. Poni' days after tlie battle (he being then under General Johnston's orders), I heard some one ask him the (jucstion why the cufMuy were not ])ressed? wIkmi he i*ei)lie!l. with a (luiet smile, and a caution which; suppn^ssed even the faintest intimation of his jtrivate opini(Hi on his countcnanct', "You will have to ask that of (Jciieral Johnston." liiil in 1S()2 80 REPLY OF n. L. DABNET, D.t). I heard General Jaeksou, wheu uo ioiigei' under Jiis urdei\s. ex- X>ress the strong dissent stated above. I suppose the exphina- tion is to be found in his well known subordination, silence, and modest}^ towards suj)eriors. And if I have been in error as to the number of fresh troops, the mistake was General Jack- son's, and not mine. The same fact may account, in part, for the statement, on page 239, that the Confederate forces had grown in autumn to an aggregate of 60,000. Has General Johnston, after all, denied this? It is not my purpose so much to argue the polic}' of pursuing our victor}' at first Manassas as to exhibit the supposed evidences of facts claimed in my narrative. But it may be said that if the opinion supported in my book is erroneous, it is an error which is found in very large and very good company. It finds plausibility in the exalted authority of General Jackson. I have never conversed with more than one intelligent Southerner who did not share it with me. It receives countenance from many of high authority among our conquerors. Many readers will recall, for example, the admission of the Yankee Brigadier-General Prentice, cap- tured by General Beauregard at Shiloh, who frankly declared that in failing to improve our victory at Manassas we had lost our opportunity; that the United States had just then reached the temporary limit of their existing munitions and means; that the temper of the nation would probably not have en- dured farther disaster; but that now all was changed, and our chance had passed away. The common sense of the people, Xorth and South, reasoned that if the Confederates could not (for some reason, whatever it might be) so improve the hour of most brilliant success as to cripple the powers of their ad- versary for future aggression, then obviously their gallantry must be vain in the end, and must fail before superior num- bers. It was this thought which encouraged the North as they recovered from their fright. It was this which filled thought- ful men with foreboding among us. General Johnston points to the failure of the invasions of 1862 and 1863 as proofs that he judged wisely. I point to the fact that Generals Lee and Jackson and the Government judged successes should thus be followed up as proof that the same opinion was not absurd in 1861. I point also to the fact that the invasions of 1862 and 1863 both came verv near being successful. The former, ac- REPLY OF R. L D.\B>rF.Y, D D. 81 coi'diiio- ro the best officers, was only defeated by the stragglinj^ of our sDldiers. The latter broughr the Yankee empire to the A( rgi of ruin, as they very plainly felt at +he tinn . lUit my chief answer here is that the case of 1801 was wholly diflt'erent from the two subsequent, and the reasoning from them to it is very much as though one should argue that because iu two cases com planted in November did not thrive, therefore he did right to neglect planting in April. In 1862 and 1803 the Yan- kees had had time to prepare and to equalize their inferior ma- terial to arms by drill and experience. In 1801, when both were inexperienced, was the time for us to employ our superior morale. General Johnston, referring to our victories at second Manassas, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville, says: "On these occasions tlie forces defeated were ten times as numerous as those repulsed on the 21st of -Tuly. 1801. and their losses twenty times as great." He has told us that McDowell brought 10,000 against him. Does he mean to say that Burnside or Hooker had. either of them, 400,000? McDowell's loss was es- timated by (feneral Beauregard at some 1.000. Was Hooker's 80,000? He doubtless uses the words ''defeated''' and ''repulsed'' intentionally. Did Hooker or Burnside retire across the Kap- pahannock in so much greater dis;)rder than McDowell fled to tlie I*otomac? But to the facts: General Johnston declared that the troops could not have been subsisted on the country of the vicinage in an advance on Alexandria, because the army of McDowell, passing over it twice, had doubtless stripped it bare. He forgets that this army was commanded by General Scott, who, recreant as he was to his native land, did not con- duct war on savage methods; that he sent out his troops fully supplied for the march; and that their Hight was itoo fright- ened and rapid for foraging. Tlu' fact is, tliat they left the resources of the vicinage untouched. It was on my return to Centerville after the battle that I found a herd of sixty beeves on a farm a mile from the village, which had been precluded fi'om their intended market iu Alexandria by the hostilities. And I have the testimony of Golonel Mosby that the neighlvor- hood would then have al)undanlly supplied a marching army. As to distance, the engineers of the Orange and Alexandria railroad state that ^lanassas junction is twenty-seven nriles from Alexandria. The distance by turnpike is not much' dif- 82 REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D.D. fereiil; uiid the Stuue bridge is by that I'oad nearer Alexandria than is the junction. My estimate of the disorganized condi- tion of the Yankee troops after the battle is denied on the au- thority of the reports of their general oflflcers; and we are told of three divisions unscathed of battle. Let the reader con- sider if my impressions were not excusable in view of the fol- lowing facts: First. The public has not yet forgotten the lively descriptions of Mr. Kussel, the correspondent of the Lon- don Times, by whose truthful pictures the Yankees were so in- tensely mortified. He was surely not a mere heedless, unpro- fessional relator like me. He had carefully studied, as an eye- witness, the great operations of the Crimean war. Next, I will give some facts which will show the real condition of the Y'^an- kee reserves, and of those bodies of their troops which are re- ported as having retired in so steady and orderly a manner. In a letter from Colonel Del. Kemper, relating to his pursuit aibove mentioned, are the following words: ^'I subsequently learned that these troops were under General Burnside, who claimed that they were retiring in good order until the artil- lery fire above spoken of created the stampede, which he did not pretend to deny. Their failure to respond to my fire mates me doubt their previous good order." A mile south of Center- ville lived (and I hope still lives) an excellent gentleman named Thomas Stuart, whose Christian hospitalities many a sick and hungry Confederate blessed. He remained on his own premises the whole of Sunday, the 21st. He told me that when the stream of fugitives and vehicles came back, a reserve division of Federal infantry was drawn up across his fields; that as the confusion increased they began to waver; that they were then broken merely by the influence of their own comrades' flight, and a'bout sunset they joined their rout, flying so precipitately as to leave his fields scattered over with knapsacks, etc., in such quantity that on the-morrow, he and his servants turning out in the rain, hauled in a granary full of them for the Con- federate officers. Y^et no armed Confederate had come within cannon shot of these brave reserves. Mr. Stuart was visited by numerous Confederate officers on Monday, and in fact arrested by one of them in a moment of misunderstanding, and rudely carried to the guardhouse at Manassas. Is it said such facts were not known at headquarters? I reply by the question: R1??LY OF R L. DABNKY, D. D. 83 Ought not lieadquartei's to liave been better infoiineJ llian an obscure person like nn^? Do nol coninianders employ efficient iseouts? Again, General McDowell, on his return to Centerville, called together his general officers and advised with them. After debate, it was resolved to fall back on the lines of Arlington. But when the generals sei)arated, and went to the ii]ac(\s where their several divisions had been ordered to bivouack. they found them all silent and vacant — their troops had come to the same conclusion much more i)romptl.v. Again, there was a reserved division advanced to tlie little village ;)f (Termantown, six miles back of Centerville. This body broke at the sight of their fug-itive comrades, and concluding that the Confedei'ates, with bloody bayont^s, were close beliind the crowd, wisely took the r;)ad aliead of their brethren, instead of letting" them pass and covering their retreat. I quote again from Colonel Kemper: "Soon after the close of the war, I re- turned to my home in Alexandria, Va., and learned from gen- tlemen, residents of that city, that no c:)nsiderable body of men returned to Alexandria from ^Nlamissas in a state of organiza- tion; and that the garrisons of at least some"^ of the forts cover ing Alexandria and Washington spiked their guns in expecta- tion of the coming of the Confederates." I trust that, with such statements before me, I may be pard(med for believing notwithstanding Yankee assertions, that their army was disorganized. AYith reference to the fortifications at Washington, the navigable river, and the ships-of-war, I ]»resume that the ex- pectation entertained by sensibh^ nu-n, who hoped that an at- tempt w:)uld be made to imi»rove our success, was that so lu- cidly explained as his own l)y (Colonel Mosby. It was, not that we should sit down in Alexandria, to be pelted out eriment. This leads to the question of fact as to the expectation ac- tually prevalent in the army. General Johnston does not "be- lieve that this bombast was really uttered in the army." (The allusion is to the passage on p. 233. The rhetoric I relinquish undefended, as becomes a decorous author at the bar of criti- cism; and the more cheerfully as it is not my own. The fact is, that / heard this very simile uttered by one of the ablest and most enlightened men in Virginia, and connected with the army. It so struck my uncultivated taste that when, long af- ter, the narrative was written it ran off the end of my pen spontaneously.) He was led to believe that our troops thought the war finished, and so went home without leave in crowds. My impression was that the men wished to pursue their suc- cess; that the desire to go home was a consequence and not a cause of the inaction which followed. Let the reader see if this impression was not natural, with such testimonies as the fol- lowing. Colonel Kemper: "In regard to the sentiment of the army on the subject of the failure to pursue our routed enemy, I can speak positively only of my own deep disappointment, but will add my ■belief that the disappointment was shared by all my acquaintances, and prevailed entirely throughout the army. We had not then learned that the whole duty of an army is to obey orders and ask no questions. The widely-extended disposition to go home, so justly represented by our generals, was, I believe, developed by the conviction which necessarily soon became prevalent that the campaign was ended." Colonel Robert E. Withers, of the Eighteenth Virginia, writes: "I can only say that so far as I was cognizant of the wishes and expectations of the troops, they certainly. anticipat- ed and desired a speedy advance on Washington; and it was only after the lapse of some days, when it was evident that no such advance was contemplated, that the demoralizations and desertions became so troublesome. Such was certainly the case REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D. D. 85 in our brigade, and I have good reason to believe tliai fhe same condition of things existed in other portions of the army. In this connection I will state that I have just had a conversation with Colonel Mosby on this subject, who coincides fully in my opinion, and states that when the cavalry was advanced to Fairfax Courthouse on Tuesday (the second day after the bat- tle). General Elzey's brigade accomi>anied the cavalry advance, and were in an efficient and serviceable condition, apparently anxious for a rapid advance on Washington. Colonel Mosby also believes that if the entrenchments in front of Washington should have proven too formidable to encounter, no difficulty would have been experienced in compelling the evacuation of the city by a flank movement, crossing the Potomac above Washington, thus interposing our army between Patterson and the city, and with our cavalry occupying the line of the Balti- more and Ohio railroad, our great superiority in that arm of the service would have rendered this movement almost certainly successful." Colonel Carrington says: ''My tirm conviction is that our army generally favored a prompt and energetic pursuit and im- provement of our victory." * * * ''The disposition of of- ficers and men to return home was very strong after they be- came satisfied that there would be no onward movement," etc. Thus, also, testifies a letter frcmi Dr. Richard P. Waltim. then a surgeon in the field. One more point remains to be noticed, (xeneral .lohnston says: "No troops were then encamped in the valley of Bull Run, or nearer to the battlefield than four or five miles. The dead had been buried, so that ladies visited the field without inconvenience." If the "then" relates to the date of greatest mortality, this may be true. But I was possessed of testimonies which I rhought justified me in believing that the opposite was true long enough to do the mischief to the health of the troops. The dead men had been buried, but the horses had not. The ani- mal remains of Yankee cami)s, as well as slain men and ani- mals, infected the country foi- miles. Then as to the facts: Wc have seen that Colonel Carring- ton states the Eighteenth A'irginia encamped until Tuesday evening "within quarter of a mile of the scene of the conflict." 86 REPLY OF R. L. DABNEY, D.D. Then Cocke's wliole bii^ade was eiuaiiiped tDi- more than a week at Cub Run bridfje. just where the battle ended, in the midst of a painful ettluviuni. Colonel Camngton says: "Hlev- eral other brigades besides Cocke's were encamped in the im- mediate vicinity of the battlefield." It is perfectly true that after the health of the regiments was infected, many of tliem were removed to healthier spots. But both the sickness and the mortality continued great. Let such facts as these show the condition of at least a part of the army. The lamented General Chavles S. Winder told me in May or June. 1802. that he came to the lines of General John- st )n after the battle as Colonel commanding a ^^outh Carolina regiment 000 strong. He was directed to stop at Bristoe and encamp at Broad Run. He staid there until the fever had made such ravages that the most he could parade were 300. In the same brigade with the Thirty-eighth Virginia was a Xorth Carolina regiment. In this there were not enough well men to nurse the sick, and details were made from other regi- ments to help them. The Eighteenth Virginia went to Manas- sas with TOO bayonets. In August, according to report of the surgeon, it was reduced to . It was only once under fire, and the maximum of its loss at that time has been already giv- en in the citation from Colonel Withers. But it is time tliar Tliis communication was closed, and I end it with repetitions of respectful consideration for the em- inent services, virtues, and position of General J. Two reasons alone have induced me to break that silence in reply to which is usually the most decorous for an author whose published works are subjected to criticism. ( )ne is the interest of truth ; the other is the interest of the widow and orphan of General Jackson; for I might well fear that the adverse opinion of so eminent an authoi'ity as General Joseph E. Johnston would limit, if not wholly arrest, the sale of the work which is design- ed to aid in relieving these defenseless persons. While, on the one hand, it would be unprincipled in me to seek their pecun- iary advantage at the expense of the just fame of General John- ston, or any other; on the other hand. I am sure that he would regret any unintentional injury to the prospects which was not necessary to the defense of truth. R. L. DABNEY. MEMOIR OF A NARRATIVE RECEHED OF COLONEL JOHN B BALDWIN,' OF STAUNTON, TOUCHING THE ORIGIN OF THE WAR. By Rev. R. L. Dabnev, D. D. (The followiuo; paper from the able pen of Rev. Dr. K. L. Dabuey will be read with deep interest, and will be found to be a valuable contribution to the history of the origin of the war. It may be worth while in this connection to recall the fact that when soon after the capture of Fort Sumter and Mr. Lin- coln's proclamation, a prominent Xortliern p )litician wrote Colonel Baldwin to ask: "What will the T'ni(m men of Vir- irinia do now?" lu* immediately rejjlied: ''There are now no Union men in Virginia. But those \<\\k) were Tni )n men will stand to their arms, and make a fight which shall go down in history as an illustration of what a brave people can do in de- fense of their liberties, after having exhausted every means of pacification.") In March, 18G5, being with the army in I*etersburg, Vir- ginia, I had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Baldwin at a small entertainment at a friend's h;iuse, where he conversed wirli me some two hours on public affairs. During this time, he detail- ed to me the history of his ])rivate mission, from the Virginia Secession Convention, to Mr. Lincoln in April, 1801. The facts he gave me have struck me, especially since the conquest of the South, as 3f great importance in a history of the origin of rhe war. It was my earnest hope that Colonel Baldwin would reduce rlieiii into a narrative for publication, and I afterwards rook measures to induce him to do so, but I fear without effect. Should it a])pear that he has left such a narrative, while it will confirm ilie subsrantial fidelity >f my narrative at second liand. it will als;) supersede mine, and of this result I should be ex- tremely glad. Surviving friends and ]iolitical associatei^ of Colonel ISalilwin iiuist have heard him narrate the same inter- 1 From Southern Bistorical Society Papers. 88 COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mr. Lincoln. esling- facts. I would rainestly invoke^ their recollcctioii of his .statements to them, so as to correct me, if in any point I mis- conceived the author, and to confirm me where I am correct, so that the history may regain, as far as possible, that full cer- tainty of whitli it is in danger of losing a part by the lamented death of Colonel Baldwin. What I here attempt to do, is to give faithfully, in my own language, what I understood Colonel Baldwin to tell me, according to my best comprehension of it. His narration was eminently perspicuous and impressive. It should als > be premised, tliat the ^'irginia Convention, as a body, was not in favor of secession. It was prevalently under the influence of statesmen of the school known as the "Clay-Whig." One of the few original secessijnists told me that at first there were but twenty-five members of that opin- ion, and that they gained no accessions, until they were g-iven them by the usurpations of the Lincoln party. The Conven- tion assem'bled with a fixed determination to preserve the Union, if forbearance and prudence could do it consistently with the rights of the K^tates. Such, as is well known, were, in the main, Colonel Baldwin's views and purposes. But i\Ir. Lincoln's inaugural, with its liints of coercion and usurpation, the utter failure of the 'Teace-Congress," and the rejecti(m of Mr. Crittenden's overtures, the refusal to hear the commissioners from ^Ir. Davis' (Tovernment at Montg'omery, and the secret arming of the Federal Crovernment for attack, had now produced feverish ai>preliensions in and out of the Conventiju. Colonel Baldwin considei-ed ^Mr. Wm. Ballard Preston, of ^lontgomery County, as deservedly one of the most influential members of that body. This statesman now began to feel those sentiments, which, soon after, prompted him to move and secure the passage of the resolution to appoint a formal commission of three ambassadors from the Convention to Lincoln's Government, who should communicate the views of Virginia, and demand those of Mr. Lincoln. (That commis- si(m consisted of Wm. B. Preston, Alex. H. H. Stuart and Geo. W. Randolph. We will refer to its history in the sequel.) Mean- time Mr. Preston, with other original Union men, were feeling thus: "If our voices and votes are to be exerted farther to hold Virginia in the I'nion, we must know what the nature of that Union is to be. We have valned Union, but we are also COLONEL BALDWIN S INTKRVIEW WITH MR. LINCOLN. 80 Vii'<,niiinns, nnil we lovo the riiioii oiilv as it is based upon the Constitution. If the j)o\v(m- of the Tnited States is to be per- verted to invade the ri^lits of States and jf tlie i)eople, we would support the Fed(^ral (Jovernnient no farther. And now that the attitude of that (Jovernnient was so ominous of usur- pation, we musi lcnov\- whither it is goin^, or we can jro with it no farther." Mr. Preston es})e('ially detdared that if he were to become an a^ent for holding- Vir.uinia in tlie Union to the destruction of lier lionor, and of the liberty jf her peojde and her, sister States, he would rather die than exert that aj;ency. Meantime Mr. Seward. Lincoln's Secretary of State, sent Allen B. ]\raanion. to inform the President that a gentleman wished to see him on important business. The man replied, as Colonel Bald- win thought, with an air of negligence, that he would report the application of c )urse, but that it would be useless, because the President was already engaged with very important per- sonages. Some card, or such missive, was given him, and he took it in. He soon returned with a surprised look, and siiid that the gentleman was to be admitted instantly. Colonel Bald- win accordingly followed him and Mr. Seward into what he pre- sumed was the President's ordinary business room, where he found him in evidently anxious consultation with three or four elderly men. who appeared to wear importance in their aspect. Mr. Seward whispered something to the President, who at once arose with eagerness, and without nuiking any movement to introduce Colonel Baldwin, said bluntly, in substance: "Gen- tlemen, excuse me. for I must talk with this man at once. Come this way. sir!" (to Colonel Baldwin). He then tojk him up stairs to quite a diflerent part of the house, and into what was evidently a i)rivate sleeping apartment. There was a handsome bed. with bureau iind mirror, washstaud. etc., and a chair or two. Lincoln closed the door and locked it. He then said: -Well. I suppose this is Colonel Baldwin, of Virginia? I have hearn of you a good deal, and am glad to see you. How d' ye. do sir?" Colonel Baldwin presented his note of credential or introducticm. which Lincoln read, sitting upon tlie edge of the bed. and sjiitring frcmi time to tini-e on the carpet. He then, bioking inquiringly at Colonel Baldwin, intimated that he un- derstood he was authorized to state for liis friends iu the Vir- ginia Convention the real state of oi)ini(m and purpose there. Fpon Colonel Baldwin's portraying the sentiments which pre- vailed among the majority there. Lincoln said (lueruloiisly : ''Yes I your Virginia i)eople are good I'nionisrs. but it is al- ways with an if! I don't like that sort of Lnionism." Colonel Baldwin firmly and respectfully explained, rhat in one sense COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mk. Lincoln. 91 no freeman cDuld be more than a eendirional Union man, fur The value of the Union was in that eipiitabh' and beneficent (\)Uslitntion on which it was founded, and if this were lost, "Union" mijiiit becouie but another name for mischievous op- pression. He also ^ave Mr. Lincoln assurances, that the de- scription which he was making- of the state of opinion in Vir- ginia, was in perfect candor and fidelity, and that he mi^^^ht rest assured the i^reat body of Virus and unwise,' Mrjiinia did not approve of makinj? that, evil as it was, a casus belli, or a ground for disrupting the Union. That much as Mrginia disapproved it, if Mr. Lincoln would only adhere faithfully to the Constitution and the laws, she would supi>ort him just as faithfully as though he were the man of her choice, and would wield her whole moral force to keep the border ►States in the Union, and to bring back the seven seceded States. But that while much difference of opinion existed :)n the ques- tieoi)le could be made to tolerate anyrhing so illegal and mischievous as a war of coercion. (Sub- sequent events and declarations betrayed also how well the Lincoln faction knew at the time that it was utterly unlawful. For instance: when Lincoln launched into that war, he did not dare to say that he was warring against States, and for the purpose of coercing them into a F'ederal Uni )n of force. In his proclamation calling for the first seventy-five thousand sol- diers, he had deceitfully stated that they were to be used to sui>port the laws, to repossess Federal property and places, and to suppress irregular combinations of individuals pretending to or usurping the powers of State (Tovernments. The same was the tone of all the war speakers and war journals at first. They admitted thar a State could not be coerced into the Union; but they held that no State really and legitimately desired to go out, or had gone out — "the great Union-loving majority in the South had been overruled by a factious secession minority, and the Union troops were only to liberate them from that violence, and enable them to declare their unabated love for the Union." No well informed man was, at first, absurd enough to speak of a State as ''committing treason" against the confederation, the creature of the States; the measure was always spoken of as "Secession," the actors v/ere "Secessionists." and even their ter- ritory was ''Secessia." It remained for an ecclesiastical body, pretended rei)resentative of the Church of the Prince of Peace, in their ignorant and venomous spirit of persecution, to apply the term "treason" first to the movement in favor of liberty.) The action of the seven States, then, perplexed the Lincoln fac- tion excessively. On the other hand, the greed and spite of the hungry crew, who were now grasping the power and spoils so long passionately craved, could not endni-e tlu' th )ught rh;»t the l)i-ize should thus collaj)se in tln^r hands. Hence, when the administration assembled at Washington, it probably had 96 COLONEL Baldwin's interview with mr. lincoln. no very detinite policy. Seward, wlio assiiiued to do the think- ing for them, was temporizing. Colonel Baldwin supposed it was the visit, and the terrorizing of the "radical Governors," which had just decided Lincoln to adopt the violent policy. They had especially asserted that the secession of the seven States, and the convening and solemn admonitions of State con- ventions in the others, formed but a system of bluster, or, in the vulgar phrase of Lincoln, but a "gauu^ of brag"; that the Southern States were neither willing nor able to fight for their own cause, being paralyzed by their fear of servile insurrection. Thus they liad urged ujjon Lincoln, that tlie best way to secure his party triumph was to i)recipitate a collision. Lincoln liad probably committed himself to this ])olie3', without Seward's ]u-ivity, within the last four days; and the very men whom Col- onel Baldwin found in conclave with him were probably intent upon this conspiracy at the time. But when Colonel Baldwin solemnly assured Lincoln that this violent policy would infal- libly precipitate the border States into an obsfinate war, the natural shrewdness of the latter was sufficient to open his eyes, at least partiall}', and he saw that his factious ciounsellors, ])linded by hatred and contempt of the Soutli, had reasoned falsely; yet, having just committed himself to tliem, he had not manliness euougli to recede. And above all, the policy urged by Colonel Baldwin would have disappointed the hopes of leg- islative ])lund('r, by means of inflated tariffs, which were the real aims for which free-soil was the mask. Thus far Colonel Baldwin's narrative proceeded. The con- versation then turned ux)on the astonishing supineuess (or blind- ness) of the consel'vatives, so-called, of the Xorth, to the high- lianded usurpations of their own rights, perpetrated by Lincoln and Seward, under pretext of subduing the seceded States, such as the suspension of habeas corpus, the State prisons, the ar- rests without indictment, and the martial law imposed, at tlie beck of the Federal power, in States called by itself "loyal." 1 asked: "Can it be possible that the Northern people are so ig- norant as to have lost the traditionary rudiments of a free gov- ernment?" His reply was, that he apprehended the Northern mind really cared uotliing for liberty; what they desired was only lucrative arrangements with other States. The correctness of Colonel Baldwin's surmises concerning COLONEL Baldwin's intfrview with mr. Lincoln. 07 the motives of Liiicohr.s policy receives these two confirmations. After the return of tlie foi-mei- to Hichiiiond. rlie Conventiau sent the commission, which lias heen described, composed of Messrs. Wni. B. Preston, A. H. H. Stuart, and Geo. W. Ran- dolph. They were to ascertain definitely what the J*resident's policy was to be. They endeavjied to reach Washington in the early part of the week in which Fort Sumter was bombarded, but were delayed by storms and hialtiniore, Friday, April 12th. They appear- ed promptly at the White House, and were i)ut off until Satur- day for their formal interview, although Lincoln saw them for a short time. On Saturday Lincoln read to them a written an- swer to the resolutions of Convention laid before him, which was obviously scarcely dry fr:>m the pen of a clei-k. "This pa- per," says ^Ir. Stuart, "was ambiguous and evasive, but in the main professed jjeaceful intentions." Mr. Stuart, in answer to this paper, sj)oke freely and at laroe, "urati )n and crime would in- fallibly drive them, though reluctant, into the secession camp. Thi« made it perfectly plain that peace meant a restored Union, while war meant disunion. But the Jacobins needed a war for THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR. 105 their owu factious euds. There was nothing- they disliked so much as a Union peaceably restored. Therefore they preferred The tactics which would insure war. and that yu the most gigan- tic scale, rarlun- than peace and union. Their problem was how to make sure of the spilling of blood. Thus while those pa- triotic and unii)n-loving statesmen, Messrs. Stewart and Bald- win, were pleading with Mr. Lincoln not to coerce, because co- ercion would precipitate certain disunion and a dreadful war, they were })roducing upon the cunning and malignant minds of the Jacobin leaders a conclusion exactly opposite to the one they desired. Those minds said to themselves: "Just so; therefore we will coerce, because it is wdv which we craA'e, and not a righteous T'nion." The history of the peace-congress confirms this explana- tion. It will stand in all history to the everlasting glory of Vir- ginia, that she proposed this assemblage, as a special agency for harmonizing ditferences and restoring a true Union. She sent to it her wisest patriots, irrespective of })aity, headed b\ the great ex-President, John Tyler, illustrious for hit-; exjier- ience. purity, courtesy and fairness, lint the Jacobin leaders had resoIv(Ml that there should be no peace; and this ^^^thout waiting to see what terms of cunciliatiou iuight be f jund. It is a historical fact, that definite instructit)ns went forth from their head in advance, that the etforts of the Peace Congress must be made abortive. The motive was not concealed: that the partisan interests of the Jacobins were adverse tj such a peace. Other leaders as Senators Chandler, of Michigan, and Wade, of Ohio, etc., declared with brutal frankness, that the case requir- ed bb)od-letting, instead of peace. Therefore, this last effort of patriotism and love for the Union was an entire failure. The withdrawal of the seven States from Congress left the Jacobins a full working majority during the months of Jan- uary and February. They had everything their own way in Congress. But every effort for peace and union uu^de by the patriotic minority, represented by Senator Cnttenden. of Ken- tucky, was systenuitically repelled. Even when the coini)ro- mises proposed were transparently wortliless to the South, they were refused. The final word of Jacobinism was: "No com- promise at all, fair or unfair, but absolute submission, or war and disunion." The utmost pains were taken to teach the bor- 106 THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THK CIVIL WAR. der States and the friends of the Union that they should have ni terms save abject submission to such constructions as the Jaco- bin party might see fit to put upon a rent and outraged Con- stitution. The proof is complete. Argument is scarcely needed to denunstrate that the in- famous reconstruciion measures were taken, not in the inter- ests of a true Union, but 'O-f this Jacobin faction. For their architects brutally disdained to conceal their object. For in- stance, one of their leaders, Alban Tourgee, in his "Fools Er- rand," expressly declares that the purpose of reconstruction was to elect another Jacobin President, otherwise jeopardized by the reunited Democracy, thrnugh the help of the negro suff- rage. And he declares that the ])roject was short-sighted, and destined tD ultimate failure. Mr. Tourgee has here slandered his brethren. Their reconstruction measures, in their sense of them, were an entire success.— and did just what they designed. — helped them to elect a series of Jacobin Presidents and to fix their parties and policy upon the country. True; those measure.*? placed the noblest white race on earth beneath the heels of a foul minority constructed of a horde of black, semi-barbarous ex-siaves and a gang of white jdunderers and renegades. It infected the State governments of the South with corruption and peculation. It injected into suffrage, in the Southern States, a spreading poison, which gives a new impulse to the corruptions of the ballot, already current among themselves, so that the disease is now remediless. P>ut what did the Jaco- bins care for that? They had gained their end. more Jacobin Presidents, more class legislation, a surt^ reign for the plutoc- racy. According to ;Mr. Lincoln's theory, a State could nat go out of the Union, and any act of secession is ipso facto void and null, being but the deed of an illegal riot, and not of a legal body. Hence all the States were legally in the Unian through- out and after the war. Hence, when armed resistance ended, nothing was necessary to reinstate the so-called seceding com- monwealths in their full Federal status, except their submis- sion to the chastisements and the changes laid down for them by the will of their conquerors. The subjugated States had all made that submission humbly and absolutely. Nothing should have been wanting, therefore, to reinstate them, except the TilE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE CIVIL WAR. 107 witness of the Chief Executive of these facts. That witness had been borue expressly and fully by General Grant himself and the President. Mr. Lincoln's man Friday, Andrew Johnson, now President by the accident of murder, continued to stand precisely upon his master's avowed platform. Why not? The whole coercion party professed to stand on it! The war had been fought through upon that ipretended platform. Why should not An- drew Johnson simply reinstate these chastened sisters in the T'nion, by his executive action especially, seeing they had never been out of it, could not be out of it, and had fully accepted their chastisement? But that simple course meant the follow- ing result: T/ie war Dttnocrats of the North, rallying the Southern people to themselves, would elect a Democratic Presi- dent! There is the whole rationale and cause of the infamy and treason of reconstruction. And this explanation stamps the whole war, with all its butcheries and miseries as a gigantic lie; and this result has given a perfect justification to every measure of resistance taken by the States assailed. Such was the final judgment of that Union-lover and reluctant Confederate, that great Christian soldier, Robert E. Lee, as he went down with stately yet tragic steps, towards the toinb and the judgment bar of the omniscient and holy God, in whom he believed. Victoria, Texas, Dec, 189G. THE DUTY OF THE HOUR.' Yjun^ ffeiitleiiien of the Euiueueaii and niilaurliropic So- cieties: I am here to-day in response not only to yonr call, but lo an inijieraliyc^ spntinient. This is the sense of the value of the younj; men of the South, and their claims upon every pa- triot. When I remember how your class has lately striven and f oui- chihli-en. if not ours, in God's own time and place. Now that this exi)ectation may net fail, it is mnnlful that you cherish jealously, the virtues ami principles which ennoble 1. (Jommeucement Oration before the students of Davidson CoUcKe. June, 1868. 108 TriK DUTY OF THE HOTJU. lOO your cause. Your steadfast and uudebauclied liearts uiusi \w tlie nurturluii' soil to j)reserve tlie prfM-ious seed of uiai'tyr blood, durin*;' tliis winter of disaster, tr» the appointed summer of its resurrection. The ur- to a topic wliicli is fuuda- mental, at once to the dearest liopes, of your country, and of its dead heroes. I would employ this season of communion with my youug fellow-citizens, in utterinjij my earnest warning to them, of a danger and a duty arising out of the misfortunes of our country — a danger most i)ortentous to a thoughtful mind, a duty ]>eculiarly incumbent on educated men. T/ii's danger may be expressed by the fearful force of con- quest and despotism to degrade the spirit of the victims. The correlated duty is that of anxiously preserving our integrity and self-respect. A grajihic English traveller in the P^ast, de- scribes the contrast, so striking to us, between' the cowering spirit of the Orientals, and the numly independence of the citi- zens 'O'f fr-ee States in Western Europe. These have been raised in commonwealtlis wliicli avouch and protect the rights of in- dividuals. They are accustomed to claim their chartered lib- erties as an inviolable heritage. The injuries of power are met by them, with moral indignation and the high purpose of re- sistance. J'ut the abject Syrian or Copt is affected no otherwise by Turkish oppressions tlian by the incursions of nature's resist- less forces: the whirlwind or the thuiulerbolt. The only emotion excited is that of passive terror. He ac- cepts the foulest wrong as his destiny, and almost his riglit. He has no other thought than to crouch, and disarm the lash by his submissiveness. And if any sentiment than that of helpless panic, is excited, it is rather admiration of superior power than righteous resentment against wrong. He who is the most ruth- less among his masters is in his abject view the greatest. When we remember the ancestry of these Orientals, w^e ask with wonder w^iat has wrought this change? These are the children of those P]gyptians who under Sesostris, pushed their conquests from Thrace to furthest Iml, bt^youd the utmost march of Alexander and wlio, under the Pharoahs, so i:)ng cou- ilo THE DtlTY OF THE HO tjR. tested the empire of the world with the Assyrian. Or they are the descendants of the conquering Saracens, who in hiter\ages made all Europe tremble. Or these Jews who now kiss the sword that slays them are the posterity of the heroes who, un- der the Macabees, wrested their country from Antiochus, against odds even, more fearful than Southern soldiers were wont to breast. Whence, then, the change? The answer is, this mournful degeneracy is the result of ages of despatism. These base children of noble sires are but living examples ol the rule, that not only the agents, but the victims of unrighteous oppression, are usually degraded by their unavenged wrongs: a law which our times renders so sig- nificant to us. Illustrations of the same rule also may be found in the more familiar scenes of domestic life. Few observing men can live to middle life without witnessing sad instances of it. We recall, for instance, some nuptial scene, from the distance of a score of years. We remember how the bridegroom led his adored prize to the altar, elate with proud affection. We recall the modest, trembling happiness of the bride, as she confi- dently pledged away her heart, her all, to the chosen man whom she trusted with an almost religious faith. Her step, diflSdeut yet proud, the proprieties of her tasteful dress, her spotless purity of person, her sparkling eyes, all bespoke self-respect, aspiration, high hope, and noble love. They revealed the thoughts of generous devotion with which her gentle breast was filled. Had one whispered at that hour, that the trusted man would one day make a brutal use of the power she now so con- fidently gave, she would have resented it as the foulest libel on humanity. Had the prophet added, that she was destined to submit, tamely and basely, to such brutality, she would have repudiated this prediction also with scorn as an equal libel on herself. But we pass over a score of years. We find the same woman sitting in an untidy cabin, with a brood of squalid, neg- lected children around her knees; her shoulders scantily cov- ered with tawdry calico, her once shining hair now wound like a wisp of hay into a foul knot. She is without aspiration, with- out hope, without self-respect, almost without shame. What is the explanation? She has been for years a drunkard's wife. TliE bUtT Oi' TfiE HOtJil. Ill She wa,s wholly innocent of her husband's fall. Long has she endured unprovoked tyranny and abuse. Not seldom has she been the helpless victim of blows from the hand which was sworn to cherish her. Often has she meditated escape fronj her degrading yoke; but the unanswerable plea of her helpless children arrested her always. She has found herself tied to a bondage where there was neither escape or resistance; and these wrongs, this misery, has at last crushed her down into the degraded woman we see. The truthfulness of this picture will only be denied by those who judge from romance without experience, not from facts. We need only to look a little at the operations of moral causes on man's nature to find the solution of these cases. We are creatures of imitation and habit. Familiarit}' with any ob- ject accustoms us to its lineaments. The effect of this ac- quaintanceship to reconcile us to vice, has been expressed by Pope in words too trite to need citation. And the fact that one is the Injured object of repeated crimes does not exempt him from this law, but, as will be shown, only subjects him the more surely to it. Not only is every act of oppression a crime, but the seasons of despotism are usually eras of profuse and outbreaking crime. The baleful shadow of the t3'rant's throne is the favorite haunt of every unclean bird and beast. And if the oppressing power be the many-headed monster, a tyrant faction, this is only more emphatically true. At such a time the moral atmosphere is foul with evil example. The vision of conscience is darkened and warped. The very air is unhealthy even for the innocent soul. For the common mind the standard of rectitude is almost overthrown In the guilty confusion, liut this is the considera- tion of least weight. A more momentous one is found in the law of man's sensibilities. The natural reflex of injury or as- sault upon us is resentment. This instinctive emotion has evi- dently been designed by our Creator, as the protector of man in this world of injustice. Its function is to energize his powers for self defense. Uut its nature is active; In exertion is its life. Closely connected with this is the sentiment of moral disappro- bation for the wrong character of the act. This emotion is the necessary correlative to approbation for the right: so that the former cannot be blunted without ll^ THE DUTY OF THK HOUR. ecjually blunting the latter. The man who has ceased to feel moral indignation for wrong has ceased to feel the claims of virtue. Xor is there a valid reason for your insensibility to evil, in the fact that you yourself are the object of it. Now when a man is made the helpless rictim of frequent wrongs when his misfortunes allow him nothing but passive endurance, resentment and moral indignation give place to sim- l)le fear. And this by two sure causes; not only is the very power of sensibility worn away h\ these repeated and violent abrasions; not only is the nature dulled by the perpetual vio- lences to which it is subjected, but that activity being denied, whicli is the necessary scope of these sentiments of resistance, they are extinguished in their birth. The soul which first rose against injustice with the quick and keen sense of wrong, and heroic self-defense; at last loutaliztMl by its very injuries, sub- sides into dull indifference or abject ]»anic. Should it not make the thoughtful patriot shudder to com])are the present temi)er of the people with that of the revolutionary sires, who be- (juea tiled to us the liberties we have forfeited? \Mth how quick and sensitive a jealousy, with what generous disdain did they spurn at the imposition of a tax of a few^ pence, against their rights as Englishmen; while we seek to reconcile aunselves with a jest or sophism to wrongs a thousand fold as onerous. In the words of IJurke, ''In other countries the people judge of an ill principle in government only by an actual grievance; here they anticipated the evil, and judged of the pressure of the grievance by the badness of the principle. They augured miisgo vera men t at a distance, and snuffed the reproacli of tyranny in every tainted breeze." But we. their miserable chil- dren, are compelled to inhabit the very miasm and stench of extreme oppression, until oui- tainted nosti-ils almost refuse the ■oflice, and leave us unconscious, while stiHed by the pol- lution. We need not go so far to find this startling contrast; we Juive only to compare our present selves with ourselves a few yt^ars ago to find fearful illustrations of the working of these influences. Let us suppose that on the evening of July 21, 18(">1, I had stood befoi'e that panting citizen soldiery, which had just hurled back the onset of our gigantic foe, and that I had de- nounced to them that seven short years would find them tamely tllE DUTY OF TIIK HOUR. 113 acquiescing- iu rlie unutterable wrongs since heaped upon us: in tlie insolent violation of every belligerent right, in the sack of their homes, in the insult of their females, in the treacherous arming of their own slaves, in their subjection to them; with what anger and incredulity would they not have repelled me? Let us suppose that I had made the imputation that some day they would consent to survive such infamy: that it would be possible for them to make any other election than that of death, with their faces to the foe, rather than isuch a fate; would they not have declared it a libel upon the glories of that day, and upon the dead heroes, even then lying with their faces to the sk}'? But we have consented to live under all this, and are even now persuading ourselves to submit to yet more! Do you remember that unutterable swelling of indignation aroused in us by the first rumor of outrage to Southern women? How that you felt your breasts must rend with anguish unless it were solaced by some deeds of defense and righteous retribu- tion? But we have since had so illstarred a tuition by a multi- tude of more monstrous wrongs, that the slavish pulse is now scarcely quickened by the story of the foulest iniquities heaped upon a defenseless people. Thus does our own melancholy ex- perience verify the reasonings given. But, my hearers, this deterioration of the moral sensibili- ties does not place man above the prouiptings of selfishness: it rather subjects him more fully to them. We may not expect that the sense of helplessness and fear will reconcile him to suffer with passive fortitude, without a struggle. As well might we look to see the panting stag bear the bit and spur with (piietude. The instinct of self-preservation goads the oppressed to attempt some evasion from their miseries; but their only re- maining means is that common weapon of the weak against the strong — artifice. Every down-trodden people is impelled al- most irresistibly to seek escape from the injustice which can no longer be resisted by force, th-rough the agency of concealments, of duplicity, of lies, of perjuries. The government of the op- pressor is therefore a school to train its victims in all the aris of chicanery and meanness. Mark, I pray you, the cruel al- ternative to which it shuts them u]). They must suffer with- out human help or remedy, evils unrighteous, relentless, almost intolerable; evils which outrage at once their well-being and 114 THE DtJTY OF THE HOUK. their moral sense; or they must yield to temptation and seek deceitful methods of escape. And the only motives to move them to elect suffering rather than dishonor are the power of conscience, the fear of God, and faith in the eventual awards of His justice. What portion of any people may be expected to persevere in this passive heroism without other support? In answering" this question we must not forget the inex- pressible seductiveness and plausibility of that temptation. It pleads with the injured victim of wrong, that his oppressors had no moral right to inflict these evils: That their injustice and treachery forfeit all claim upon his conscience: That to de- ceive them is but paying them as they desen'e in their own coin. An embittered hatred, which pleads its excuse from a thousand unprovoked injuries, impels the sufferer by a sting as keen as living fire, to seek the revenge of deception: the only one in his reach. And last, the specious maxim, "That neces- sity knows no law," completes the triumph of the temptation with the plea, that the endurance of this tyrant's unmitigated will is impossible, and therefore the case justifies the means of evasion. Xow I need hardly pause, before this assembly, to say that all this pretended argument is a guilty sophism. You know that, however plausible it may be, it is grounded in a profane forget- fulness of God, of his holy will, and of his omnipotent govern- ment over oppressors and oppressed. You see how it involves that maxim of delusion, of whose advocates the Apostle de- clared "their damnation is just"; that the end sanctifies the means. At the day when God shall bring him into judgment, no man will dare to obtrude these specious pleas, for his viola- tion of the eternal principles of truth and right— principles on which repose the w^elfare of all creatures and the honor of God, principles whose sanctity only finds illustrations in the very evils which man experiences from their breach. But none the less do we find anticipations of seduction verified by ten thou- sand lamentable lapses from honor among our suffering people: in their tampering with ensnaring and oppressive. oaths; in the evasion of pecuniary obligations; in the deceitful avowal of pretenses abhorrent at once to the political pride and principles of our country. The facts are too melancholy to be pursued. Meantime the efficiency of all these seductions is made *HE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 1 15 more fearful by the causes wliicli hedge lour young men uji from wholesome activities. There is no longer a career for their in- dividual energies. Scarcely any profession offers a prize worthy of their exertions. If they turn to agriculture, or the pursuits of the merchant or artisan, the ruin of trade and the crushing burden of unequal taxation compel them to labor for a pittance. Hence the danger tliat they will succumb to an apathetic despair. We see too many of our youth whose forti- tude should sustain a fainting, sinking country, sitting down in skeptical doubt to question the control of Divine Providence, or sinking into an indolence which they persuade themselves is inevitable, and seeking a degrading solace in epicurean ease. Take heed, gentlemen, lest these insidious discouragements transmute the sons of the heroes of Manassas and Shiloh, as the despotism of arbitrary rulers has charge, into the modern Rom- an. In the Eternal city we see the descendants of that race which gave laws and civilization to a conquered world, now in tlie words of their own sensual poet, '^Porci de grege Epicuti, cute bene curata^'^ filling their idleness with the criticism of cooks and singing women. Kather than risk the yielding to this, arise and go forth, sturdy exiles, to carve out a new career on some more propitious soil. It has been made my duty by my appointed pursuits to ex- amine the history of previous concpiesrs; and it is my deliberate conviction that no civilized people have ever been subjected to an ordeal of oppression so charged as ours with all the elements of degradation. I have explained how the unrighteousness of the despotism becomes a pottmr influence for temptation, ^^'e experience a domination, the iniijuity of which is declared by every patriot of every previous i)arty, and constantly avowed by the very men that impose it uji to the day. when their reason was swept away by the torrent of revenge and the lust of dom- ination. Our people have been violently thrust down from the proudest ancestral tradiiions. and highest freedom boasted by any commonwealth on earlh, to the deepest humiliations and most grinding exactions. They have been overpowered, not by manly force, but by filthy lucre, whicli bribed the }»rolitaries of the whole world to crush us. We stooped our banners, not like the conquered Gaul and Briton to one who knew how, debellare uperbos, forcere victis; but to a rabble w ho are not ashamed to 116 THE DUTY OF,THE HOUli. confess that their fourfold numbers and tenfold resources were unable to subdue us, until they had armed against us all the mercenaries of Europe and our own poor slaves besides. And to crown all, the favorite project is to subject us, not to the con- queror only, but to these alien serfs, to be invested with our plundered franchises. Thus are our people robbed not only of their possessions and rights, but of their dearest point of honor. Now, every one experienced of human nature knows that when you break down the chosen point of honor, the man is degraded to a brute unless he is sustained by the vital grace of God. Thus it appears that the influences and temptations by which con- quest depraves its victims are now applied to our people in their most malignant efficacy. The lesson which we should learn from this fact is that we should be watchful in an equal degree to preserve our own rectitude and honor. For, young gentlemen, as the true dishonor of defeat lies only in this deterioration of spirit, so it is the direst wrong which the injustice of the conqueror can inflict. A brave people may, for a time, be overpowered b}' brute force, and be neither dishonored nor destroyed. Its life is not in the outward organ- ization of its institutions. It may be stripped of these and clothe itself in some diverse garb, in which it may resume its growth. But if the spirit of independence and honor be lost among the people, this is the death of the common weal: a death on which there waits no resurrection. Dread, then, this degradation of spirit as worse than defeat, than subjugation, than poverty, than hardship, than prison, than death. The law on which I have commented has ever appeared to me the most awful and obscure of all those which regulate the divine providence over men and nations. That the ruthless wrong-doer should be depraved in his own soul by his crimes, that he should find a part of his just penalty in the disorders and remorse infused in his own nature by his acts; this is a dis- pensation as adorably righteous as it is terrible. But that not only guilty agent, but guiltless victim should, by a law, almost natural, find his moral being broken down; that a necessity which his will had no agency in procuring should subject his heart to an ordeal so usually disastrous:— this is indeed fearful. ''Clouds and darkness" here surround him. Yet "justice and judgment are the habitation of his throne." One thing I cleariy THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 117 infer hence, that he has ordained the virtuous man's life in this wiclced world, to be often a battle, in which he may be called "to resist unto blood, striving against sin." We learn from these mournful histories how it may be our duty to sur- render life, rather than conscience and moral independence. Man's first duty to himself is the preservation of his own vir- tue. His prime duty to his God may be said to be the same. For how shall the depraved creature fulfill that "chief end," lilorifying God? With no little seeming then was it argued of old, that a dishonored life was no life indeed; so that the im- position of unavoidable degradation of soul was equivalent to the Maimer's decree dismissing us out of tlie scene of defiled ex- istence. Here is the most plausible excuse of that antique self- sacrifice, by which the heroic souls of the Pagan world claimed the privilege of escaping subjugation, and defying the oppres- sor by a voluntary grave. For they knew not the only power by which the inw^ard stain of oppression can be countervailed. They had never heard of gospel grace; of regeneration and adoption; of a hope anchored beyond the grave; of a reward in glory ennobling all suffering and endurance for conscience sake. Let us not, however, palliate the errar of those who thus re tired from life's battle without the word of supreme command of the Captain. But from this danger of the soul's subjugation along with that of the body, we may infer the duty and privi- lege of preferring the surrender of life ti the desertion of duty. It is yours, young gentlemen, to boast among the alumni of your college, more than one illustrious instance of this fate, which may prove so enviable compared with ours. First among these, I am reminded of one, whose youthful face, then ruddy as that of the hero of Bethlehem, is filed in the memories of my first visit here. General Ramseur. Nowhere, in the rich record of Southern chivalry, can there be found the name of one who nu)re deliberately resolved for death rather than forfeiture of duty and honor. Twice within a few weeks, at Winchester and Fisher's Hill, his command had yielded to numbers, in spite of his most strenuous and daring exertion. On the morning of the battle of Belle Plain, which began so gloriously for the Con- federates, while marshalling his troops for the strife, he ex- horted them to stand to their colors, and calmly declared that if they had any value for his life they would henceforward be 118 THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. staunch; for lie was resolved never to participate with them in another flight from their foes. It was with this deliberate pur- pose he joined battle. But as the bravest are ever the most gentle, this stern resolve did not exclude the thought of the do- mestic tie, which his country's call had sundered almost as soon as it was bound around his heart, and of the infant which had never received its father's kiss. His courage was only rein- forced by these remembrances. For. as he began the onset, in the second movement of the tragedy, he exclaimed to the offi- cers near him, "Now, gentlemen, let us sd fight to-day as to finish this campaign; I want to see my first born." After per- forming his whole duty during the changeful day, he saw all the line upon his left giving way. AVith his own command he strove to stem the torrent of enemies; and when they, too, broke in panic he refused to tlee with them, but busied himself in rallying a few determined spirits like himself. When the last fugitive left the field they saw him with a handful, breasting the whole jmrsuing h )st. until, according to his pledge, he fell with his face to the foe. Let this example inspire you to endure as he fought, and you will be secure against all the degradations of defeat. This degradation, then, does not necessarily accompany our prostrate condition. Divine I'ravidence often makes the furnace of persecution the place of cleansing for individual saints. Why may it not be so for a Christian people*? Why may not a race of men come forth from their trials, like the gold seven times refined in the fire, with their pride chastened, and yet their virtues purified'? This can be from the only cause which sanctifies the sufferings of the Christian, the inworkings of the grace of God. Nothing is more true than that the natural effect of mere pain is not to purify, but tj harden the sinful heart of man. exasperating at once its evils and its miseries. The cleansing Word and Spirit of God alone interpret its suf- ferings to it and convert them into healthful medicines of its faults. So it is the power of true Christianity, and that alone, which can minister to us as a people the wholesome uses of ad- versity. The salvation of the life of the Southern society must be found by taking the Word of God as our constant guide. But it may be asked: To what course of action should this spirit of unyielding integrity prompt us? The answer from THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 119 those infallible oracles is easy. While you refrain from the suggestion of revenge and dispair, and give place as of neces- sity to inexorable force, resolve to abate nothing, to concede nothing of righteous conviction. Truckle to no falsehood and conceal no true principle; but ever assert the right with such means of endurance, iself-sacrifice and passive fortitude as the dispensation of Providence has left you. If wholesale wrongs must be perpetrated, if wholesale rights must be trampled on, let our assailants do the whole w^ork and incur the whole guilt. Resolve that no losses, nor threats, nor penalties, shall ever make you yield one jot or tittle of the true or just in principle, or submit to personal dishonor. And let us remember, young gentlemen, that while events, the success of ruthless power, the overthrow of innocence may greatly modify the expedient, '^hey have no concern whatever in determining the right. The death of a beloved child may determine its mother to bury its decay- ing body out of sight, even to hide in the wintry earth that which before she cherished in her bosom; but its death will never make the true mother repudiate its relation of paternity to it, or deny its memory, or to acquiesce in any slander upon its filial loveliness. You must decide, then, each one for himself, what things must be conceded to the necessities of new events, and what things must be disclaimed as contaminating to the un- conquered soul. May I not safely advise, that, in making these decisions you should always refer them to that standard of judgment which we held before our disasters, as the truer and worthier one; rather than to that standard to which we are seduced by their humiliations? Judge then from the same prin- ciples (however new their special applications) from which you would have judged in happier years when your souls were in- spired by the glorious traditions of your free forefathers, and saw the truth in the clear light of your conscious manhood; not as men would have you judge, from hearts debauched by de- feat, and clouded with shame and despair. We are a beaten, conquered people, gentlemen, and yet if we are true to ourselves, we have no cause for humiliation, however much for deep sorrow. It is only the atheist who adopts success as the criterion of right. It is not a new thing In the history of men that God appoints to the brave and true the stern task of contending and falling in a righteous quarrel. 120 THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. Would you find the grandest of all nanie.s upon the roll of time? You must seek them among this "noble arm}- of mai't3'rs/' whose faith in God and the right was stronger than death and defeat. Let the besotted foals saj that our dead have fallen in a ''lost cause." Let abandoned defamers and pulpit buffoons sjay that theirs are "dishonored graves." I see them lie in their glor\- with an illustrious eomfjany: with the magnanimous Prince Jonathan, on Mount Gilboa. and the good king Josiah in the vale of Megiddo; with Demo.stheues and Philopoemen; with Hannibal, the pillar of Carthage; with Brutus and Cato; with the British Queen, Boadicea; with the Teuton Herman; with Harold, the Saxon, on Hastings field; with Wallace, with Kosciusko; with one grander than all, our own Jackson. We have no need, sirs, to be ashamed of our dead; let us see to it that they be not ashamed of us. They have won the happier fate, ''taken away from the evil to come, they have entered into peace; they rest in their beds, each one walking in their up- rightness." To us they have bequeathed the sterner trial of as- serting, by our unshaken fortitude under overthrow, the princi- ples which they baptized with their blood. I^t the same .spirit which nerved them to do. nerve us to endure for the right; and they will not disdain our companionship on the rolls of fame. Before I end, let me invoke the aid of the gentler sex, whose sympathizing presence I see gracing our solemnities. The high mission of woman in society has been often and justly argued. But never before was the welfare of a people so dependent on their mothers, wives and sisters, as now and here. I freely de- clare that under God my chief hope for my prostrate country is in their women. Early in the war, when the stream of our noblest blood began to flow so liberally in battle, I said to an honored citizen of my State, that it was so uniformly our best men wha were made the sacrifice there was reason to fear that the staple and pith of the people of the South would be per- manently depreciated. His reply was: "There is no danger of this while the women of the South are what they are. Be as- sured the mothers will not permit the oftspring of such martyr- sires to depreciate." But since, this river of generous blood, has swelled into a flood. What is worse, the remnant of the survivors, few, sub- jugated, disheartened, almost despairing and, alas, dishonored, THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. 121 because the.v have uot disdained life, uu such terms as are left us; are subjected to every influeuce from without, whicli cau be maliiiuantly devised to sap the fouudatijns of their manhood and degrade them into fit materials for slaves. If our women do not sustain them they will sink. Unless the spirits which rule and cheer their homes can reanimate their self-respect, con- firm their resolve, and sustain their personal honor, they will at length become the base serfs their enemies desire. Outside thcnr homes, everything conspires to depress, to tempt, to seduce them. Do they advert to their business affairs? They see be- fore them only loss, embarrassment, and prospective destitu- tion. To the p9litics of their country? They witness a scheme of domination and mercenary subserviency where the sacrifice 'of honor is the uniform condition of success. Only within their homes is there, beneath the skies, one ray of light or warmth to prevent their freezing into despair. TJiere, in your homes, is your domain. There y^?^ rule with the sceptre of affection, and not our conquerors. We beseech you, wield that gentle empire in behalf of the principles, the patriotism, the religion, which we inherited from our mothers. Teach our ruder sex that only by a deathless love to these can woman's dear love be deserved or won. Him who is true to these crown with your favor. Let the wretch who betrays them be exiled forever from the paradi.se of your arms. Then shall we be saved, saved from a degradation fouler than the grave. Tie it yours to nurse witli more than a vestal's watchfulness, the sacred flame of our virtue now sj smothered. Your task is un- obtrusive; it is fperformed in the privacy of home, and by the gentle touches of daily love. But it is the noblest work which mortal can perform, for it furnishes the polished stanes, with which the temple of our liberties must be repaired. We have seen men building a lofty pile of sculptured marble, where columns with polished shafts pointed to the skies, and domes reared their arches on high, like mimic heavens. They swung tlu^ massive blocks into their places on the walls with cranes and cables, with shout and outcries, and hugh creaking of the ponderous machinery. But these were not the true artisans: they were but rude laborers. Tlie true artists, whose priceless cunning was to give immortal beauty to the pile, and teach the dead stones to breathe majesty and grace were uot there. None 122 THE DUTY OF THE HOUR. saw or heard their hibors. In distant and cjniet workrotnns, where no eye watclied them, and no sliout jiavo ,sij;nal of tlieii' motions, they plied their patient cliisels ishiwly with genth^ touches, evoking- the forms of beauty which hiy liid in the blocks before them. Such is your work; the home and fireside are the scenes of your industry. But the materials which you shape are the souls of men, which are to compose the fabric of our church and state. The jiolitician, the professional man, is but the cheap, rude, day laborer, who moves and lifts the finislied block to its place. You are the true artists, who endue it with fitness and beauty; and therefore vours is the nobler task. THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION' \vt'. VI. — 1. Preliminary Report on the Eigth Census, 1800. By Jos. C G. Kennedy, Superintendent. Washington: Government Printing Ottice. 1862. 2. Message from the President of the United States to the two Houses ff Congress, at the ("oniniencement of the Second Session of tlie Thirty-eighth Congress; with tlie Reports of the Heads of Departments, and Selections from accom- panying Documents. Washington: Government Printing Office. 1864. The ability of a people for military exploits depends, in modern times, upon two classes of circumstances, the material aud the moral. Among the former, the most important are, the numbers of its poi)ulation, the magnitude of its revenues, its manufactures, commerce, and agriculture, and its geographical position. The moral qualities which make a military nation are, natural bravery, love of glory, intelligence, independence, fortitude, and, above all, virtue and devout religious faith. The authors and ])oliticiau;s of the North usually point, with much exultation, to the war against the Confederate States, which closed in 1865, as a splendid proof of their mili- tary prowess. Since that triumph, it has been customary with them to claim that the Ignited States stand in the first rank, if not at the head of the great military powers of Christendom; and that they may safely venture to cope with the greatest of those powers. That war is su])posed to prove that the TTnited States are able, with ease, to place a million of combatants in the field, and a jtowerful navy upon tlie water, for any contest which affects the national heart. We propose to bnng this boast to the test, by a review of some facts and figures, touch- ing th(- jtarties to the recent Avar. We hope thus to reach a correct estimate of the real material resources of the United States for a great war, at this time, and of the aptitude which 1 Appearefl in Southern Review. Baltimore. Oct, 1869 133 124 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. the Northern people have disclosed for iiiilitarv enterprises. The first fousideration is obviously a comparisan of the population and prL>duetion of the two parties tp the late con- test. According to the census of 1800 (the year before the con- test began), as prepared by the North itself, the Northern States and territories had then a population of twenty-two million eight hundred and seventj'-seven thousand (22,877,000). This aggregate includes a few hundreds of thousands of negroes, but none of the Indian tribes. The Confederate States had a pop- ulation of eight million seven hundred and thirty-three thou- sand (8,733,000). But of these, three million six hundred and sixty-four thousand (3,064,000) were negroes; so that if they are deducted, we have only five million (5,000,000) whites to sustain the struggle against twenty-two million, (22,000,000). Northern politicians are bound to admit the fairness of at least such a deduction; because they uniformly say that slavery is a weakening institution, inimical to national strength. We, in- deed always argued (wliat this war abundantly confirmed) that a slave-holding nation was stronger for war than a hired-labor State, of numbers ecjual to the free and slave together; because the devotion of the bondmen to productive laboi- both released a large number of freemen for military employments, and gave them a higher tone. But the Northern statesman cannot use this plea; because he has always denied these facts, and assert- ed the contrary. He is therefore obliged to count out the Southern slaves, and to compare the belligerents as five mil- lion (5,000,000) against twenty-two million (22,000,000). He is obliged, also, to estimate these five million (5,000,000) as a peo- ple far inferior to the rest of Christendom, in their morale; for has he not proved to his own satisfaction, in his descants on the 'barbarism of slavei-y,' that this institution invariably renders the masters lazy, effeminate, selfish, petulant, and insubordin- ate? The case which we have to inspect is, therefore, for the North, this: that twenty two millions (22,000,000) ot tlie best people in Christendom managed souuliow to beat five millions (5,000,000) of the meanest. In this estimate of numbers, we have not counted Kentucky or Missouri as Confederate States. Both parties claimed them; the North actually possessed them, during the whole war, with their territories, resources, and population. A few thousand THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 1 SK from each State preferred exile to subjugation, and enlisted in the Confederate armies. These, with the recruits from Mary- land, were far more than counterbalanced by the large defec- tions from the Confederate cause in East Tennessee, Northern Arkansas, Western Xortli Carolina, and Northwestern Vir- ginia. But we have not yet reached the fair comparison of mater- ial strength. The campaigns of 18()1 w^re only tenative; the real *'tug of war" had not yet come. But before May, 1862, the Northern armies were in permanent occupancy of all Western and Middle Tennessee, of nearly the whole of Louisiana, of parts of Florida, of the coast of South and North Carolina, of Eastern and Northern Virginia. This occupation continued until the end of the war. The population thus excluded from the support of the Confederate cause cannot be exactly esti- mated; but it was certainly more than twelve hundred thou sand (1,200,000). Thus the Confederates bore all the real brunt of the struggle, with three million eight hundred thou- sand (3,800,000) white people. The fighting men were not ab- solutely limited to this source, for some of them came from within the hostile lines; but, of course, no material resources, and few men, could be relied on from a territory in the perma- nent occupancy of the enemy. The real problem which was solved, then, was. how twenty-two million (22,000,00(0 of the best people in Christendom managed, in three years, to beat three million eight hundred thousand (3,800,0(H)) of the mean- est. But the material resources were even more unequal than the numbers. The Confederate States were rather planting than agricultural communities; their customary industry pro- duced rather those things which are the basis of Northern com- merce, than the wheat, the beef, the wool, the horses, which sustain large armies. The North had far the larger portion of the commerce and manufacturing arts. It retained the nation- al army, navy, arsenals, treasury, government. The South had all these to create, in the progress of the struggle. But, secondly, it is pleaded that a people inhabiting a large country, have, in their forests, i-ivers, mountains, and especially in the distances which armies must pass over, a defense against the invader, which almost compensates for any inferi uity of 12G THE UNITP.D STATES AS A MILITARY NATlO^t. force. This argumeDt was not true, iu the case of the Confed- erate people. Xew circuDistances, with their geographical position, wholly neutralized these advantages. Of these, one was the advantage which th'e invader had of railroads; by which he almost annihilated distance, and overcame weight and bulk, in transporting the materiel of war. The Confederate States were sufiflciently supplied with railroads for all the military purposes of the invader. Ketreating armies usually attempted, of course, to dismantle these roads; but the repair of any dam- age thus hastily done, was eas}' and quick work to a numerous people, abounding in industrious mechanics, and iu machinery and materials. Thus, as an invading army was enabled by its military successes to advance, the captured raih'Dads in its rear, •quickly repaired, and easily defended, brought its base of ope- rations i^ractically up to its rear. It was, thus, relieved of this, formerh', the great difficult}' of extended invasion. The decisive circumstance which robbed the South of the defensive advantages of its wide territory was, the superiority of its enemies up3n the water. The North retained the use of the whole national navy. While the South was chiefly a plant- ing community, the North was manufacturing and maritime. Hence the multiplication of ships and sailors, which continued and increased her naval superiority, was easy and rapid for her. This cause also enabled her, by her blockade, to exclude the Confederates from all f jreign sources of supply. The naviga- ble water was therefore, all, the territory of the North. The ocean and the gulf, which bounded two sides of the Con- federate States, belonged to their invaders, furnishing them a cheap and swift way of approach, secure from assault. This fact rendered the whole sea and gulf shores bases of opera- tions for Federal armies. It made all an exposed frontier, and brought the enemy upon it all, as though he had embraced these two sides, as he did the other two, with conterminous territodes of his own. The reader may represent to himself the significance Df this fact, by imagining the inland kingdom of Bavaria assailed at once on four sides, by Austria, Switzer- land, and the German States, all united under a single will. The professional soldier will comprehend the disastrous position of the invaded country, wlien he considers that the invader thus had two pairs of bases of operations, at right angles to tHE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. \'>7 each other; whence it resulted that from whatever interior base a Confederate arniv might set out to defend its frontier, its line of operations must needs be exposed, paralh'l to one of these Federal bases, and liable to be struck at right angles, by a force advancing from it. But, worse than this, the Confederate territories were pene- trated, in nearly every part, by navigable rivers, opening either into the sea, which was the territory of the North, or into the Northern frontier. On the east, the Potomac, the Rappahan- nock, the York, the James, the Roanoke, the Neuse, the Cape Fear, the Savannah, and on the south, the St. John's, the Ala- bama, the Brazos, stretched their navigable waters far into the interior; while the Mississippi, which is itself an inland sea, floating the greatest war-ships, jjassed out oi the United States below Cairo, through the midst of the Confederacy, to the Gulf, which, again, belonged to its enemies. The Tennessee and the Cumberland, with their mouths opening upon the Northern frontier, in winter navigable for warships, as well as trans- ports, curved inwards, near the heart of the Eastern quarter. The Arkansas and Red rivers opened the States west of the Mis- sissippi. The difficulties of invasion were also unexpectedly re- moved, for the North, by the new decision given to the ques- tion, whether shore-batteries could command a channel against ships of war. Military authorities had usually answered this question in the affirmative. The answer was now reversed in favor of the North. When ships were only of wood, and pro- pelled only by winds, a motive power gentle (except when it as- sumes the unmanageable violence of the tempest), variable, and uncertain, artillerists might well boast that shore-batteries would usually destroy the ships opposed to them. But when the ship has within itself an unfailing motive power, as steady as the breeze and as swift as the tempest, and when it is coated with an iron plating, which, if not absolutely impervious to cannon-shots, at least delays for a long time the ruin of the frainework, all is changed; it may expect to brave the bullets of shore-batteries with impunity, and to pass them without the rroi:bl. of silencing them. Thus, the forts designed to proteci New Orleans, Mein]»his, and Vicksburg, were, in each case, passed by the Federal steamers without being reduced; and that which thev were designed to defend was seized in spite of 128 THE UNITED STATES ASA MILITARY NATION. them; so that rlieir leteution became useless or impracticable. Xow the naval supremacy of the North having been assert- ed upon all these streams, it was the least part of the evil, that all their fertile valle3's were exj)osed to ravage, and the wealthy cities on their Banks, to capture. Each of the rivers became a new and secure base of operations for invading armies. Diffi- culties of distance were almost annihilated. Xo interior base from which C3nfederate armies could operate toward their own frontiers, to extrude the invader, remained secure from attack from one or another of these rivers. Hence it was, that defen- sive victories were usually fruitless of permanent results. The justice of this view is sustained by the fact that all the rivers 7vere opened to the ingress of Northern armies and fleets (save a small portion of the Mississippi between Vick^burg and Port Hudson) without much difficulty, and before the real "tug of war" began. By May, 1862, they were all occupied; and the illusory advantages of territory and distance for the invaded, were all lost. The extent of the Confederate territory no longer interposed an}' difficulty to the invaders, except the demand for a plenty of money and mechanics. The M/r^subject of comparison is, obviously, the size of the armaments which the rivals were able to put into the field. To appreciate the amazing disproportion, the reader must ponder a few figures. According to the report of the Adjutant General of the United States, two million five hundred and thirty thou- sand (2,530,000) soldiers were employed by laud, during the course of the war. The whole population of the North subject to military duty, but not in service, had also been enrolled, and the number was found to be two million seven hundred and eighty-four thousand (2,784,000). These facts reveal the curious result (of which use will be made hereafter), that, had no for- eigners been employed in their armies, the North would have had, on land, neariy half (2,530,000 against 2,784,000) of their whole male population of military age, actually under arms. But the actual strength of their armies, at the close of the war, is very accurately fixed by the returns of volunteers mustered out of service. These were one million thirty-four thousand (1,034,000). So that, adding the regular army, we find that they employed, at one time, one million seventy-two thousand five hundred (1,072,500) combatants, on laud, ''to crush the THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 129 ivlK'llion.'" Tims, something- more than one doughty warrior to every four white Confederate souls (including all the soldiers, :ild men, sick, women, children, babies, and cowards), and at least one fighting man to every two Confederate souls adhering in any sense to that government during the whole of the last year of the war, were required to conquer their resistance! This vast host was served by one horse or mule fur every two men in the field; and it destroyed draught animals at the aver- age rate of five hundred (50()) per day. It was ministered to by one thousand and eighty (1,080) sea and river transports, at a daily cost of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars (1120,000) for their navigation alone. It was furnished during rhe war with nearly eight thousand (8,000) cannons, and nearly twelve millions (12,000,000) of small arms; while the masses of cartridges, shot, shell, and gunpowder were fabulous. To the efforts of this Xerxean ho.^t must be added those of the navy of the United States. This arm employed, in the course of the war, one hundred and twenty-six thousand five hundred and fifty-three (12(),55;i) sailors and marines; besides the countless mechanics and servants about the naval arsenals and depots. T'he Report of the Secretary, under date of Decem- ber 5, 1864, gives the following "General exhibit of the navy, including vessels under constructian," to-wit: No. (luns. Tons. 118 Screw steamers especially constructed for naval purposes 1,120 1(59,231 52 Paddle-wheel steamers es'i>ecially construct- ed for naval purposes 521 51,878 71 Iron-clad vessels 275 80,596 119 Screw steamers, purchased, captured, etc., fitted for naval purposes 611 60,380 171 Paddle-wheel steamers, purchased, captui-- ed, etc., fitted for naval purposes 921 78,762 112 Sailing vessels of all classes 850 69,549 671 Total 4,()10 510,396 588 T )tal navy, December, 18(13 4,443 4(57.967 83 Actual increase for the year 167 42,429 Now against these, place the following numbers of the Con- 130 THE UNITKD STATES AS A MILITARY NAtIoN. federate armies. The aggregate of all the levies made during the whole war. was about equal to the available force present for duty at one time with their enemies; that is; to say, about six hundred and sixty thousand (660,000), or one-fourth the whole number enlisted by the North during the war. If we estimated the Confederate force effective for duty at any one time by this ratio we ishould give them less than one hundred and twenty-five thousand (125,000) soldiers in actual service, the day their armies were strongest. When we remember that many of their levies were from districts soon occupied perma- nently by their enemies, to which therefore no provost-marshal could ever go to reclaim absentees, we might reasonably con- clude that the number of Confederates actually in the field at any one time bore a still smaller ratio to the total of levies. But the superiority of the Confederate administration, with the higher patriotism of the people, wonderfully couutei-poised this disadvantage, and enabled the government to present, in May, 1864, about two hundred and sixty-four thousand (264,000) combatants to Mr. Lincoln's nine hundred and sev- enty thousand (1)70,000), the number he had under arms at that time. But it was impossible for the Confederacy to mobilize, for campaigning, as large a ratio as their enemy did. They had the same length of frontier to guard; they were therefore com- pelled to reserve for garrisons and posts a far larger part rela- tively to their whole force. Hence, while General Grant, as commander-in-chief, was able to put in the field, for aggressive purposes, six hundred and twenty thousand (620,000) men in May, 1864, Mr. Davis opposed him with about one hundred and twenty-five thousand (125,000) in the several active armies. The disproportion of forces, and the relative character of the rival armies, may also be illustrated by the numbers actually arraj'ed against each other in several battles. At the critical turn of the first battle of Manassas, the official reports of Gen- erals McDowell and Beauregard show that the decisive grapple for the key of the battle-field was made by six thousand five hundred (6,500) Confederates against twenty thousand (20,000) United States troops, including several regiments of regulars. The Confederates won it. At Sharpsburg, thirty-three thousand (33,000) Confederates repulsed ninety thousand (1)0,000) Federal- ists. At Chancellorsville, thirty-five thousand (35,000) Confed- THE UNITED STATS'^ AS A MILITARY XATIO>r. 131 erates beat Gen. Hooker, witli the "tiuest anuy upjii tlie planet." In the Wilderness, Gen. Lee met (Jen. (Irant's one liundred and forty-two th'onsand (142,000) with tifty, tlionsand (50,000) and withont any accessions to this nnniber, continued to breast the Federal ai-niy increased (save as the Confederate shot had thin- ned it) by sixty thomsand ((10,000) more. In the battle of Win- chester, in the autumn of 1S(>4, Sheridan only won a dearly boug-ht victory from Gen. Early, by hurling tifty thousand (50,- 000) npcni his twelve thousand (12,000.) In the clo.siing struggle (xen. Lee's thirty-three thousand (.'W.OOO) w(M-e not dislodged fram Petersburg and Richmond until their assailants were again increased to one hundrtnl and eighty tin)usand (180,000.) And finally, the remnant of Lee's heroic army did not surrender to this enormous host until it wa.s reduced to less than eight thousand (S,000) muskets. Tlu^ aggregate of men i>aroled at Appomattox was made up of s;)nie twenty or more thousand (20,000) stragglei-s, and men on detached service, who came in, to avail themselves of tlie suj)posed ])acificatioii, after the ter- mination of military ojterations. To this disparity of forces upon land, and overwhelming su- periority upon the water, must be added the advantages derived by the North from theii- blockade. This crippled the Ganfederaey, both in its military and in its financial efforts. The true basis for credit, upon whidi alone the ''sinews of war" could have been borrowed in Euro])e (where alone they existed for the new government) was in the Southei-n cotton and tobacco. ^Ir. Davis's administration sliDuld have had not only the large and jii-eeious crop of ISOO, but an (Mpial cioj) in 1861, and successive ones in 18(52 and 18(5.'^ only diminished in bulk, but enhanced in price, upon whidi to found, at once, a system of foreign loans, and an all-i>ersuading motive f :>r foreign recog- nition. Only in L8(il, did tlie stress of domestic wants become ISO urgent as to arrest all other tillage, for the production of ])rovisions. Now the blockade never wholly arrested shipments of cotton; but it gradually became stringent enough tr> impose upon them a tax in the foi-m of losses by capture, or of bribes to Federal officials, sufficient to disappoint effectually these great [)Ui'poses. The financial right arm of the Confederacy was tied uj). Again, the blockade imposed such difficulties upon importations that, although they continued almost to the 133 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. last, they were limited to a few of the iiure couipaet articles which nurturcnl the war; and these were supplied in the most scanty and inade(|uate degree. Thus, the wt^akin- combatant was kept, in a measure, unarmed and unfed, dui-ing the unecjual struggle. Fourthly. To give a correct estimate of Northern prowess in this war, Ihe trutli must be told — whicli rs not pleasant to the pride of the Confederates — that tlieir armies, apart from their deficient numbers, were never formidable in their char- acter. The Cjufederate glory was dependent moi-e on the weakness of their assailants, than on the intrinsic vigor of their defense. This assertion, true though distasteful, will be sub- stantiated by these two facts: first, that the people of the ^outh were never roused to what professional soldiers call a poi)ular resistance; and secondly, that tli(- gDvernment never had a really organized and diiscii)lined army. As to the first, their enemies did indeed wage their war in a ruthless way, which gave abundant motive and justification for jtopular war- fare; that is, for turning every mah^ of the invaded c(nmtry into a S'oldiei- without the fornuility of enlistment, and for teaching him ti) regaid every invader as an outlaw, to be assail- ed by any means, and in every place. Hut the Southern people never availed themselves of that right. Amidst all the unutter- able horrors of the raids, the burnings, the wanton and ruinous ravagings, the honu- [)eoj)le of the South uuiiutained a singular neutrality, and submitted with an unaccountable (piiescence, leaving all def<'ns(^ and vengeanci', alike, to the organized sol- diery. Federal officials came and went al )ng \'ast lines of transixtrtat'ion; cavalrynum who had given the country people every reason to regard and treat them as wolves, traversed the regit)U:s they had desolated; bummers rode away with their spoil, secure from ambuscade unless sduic movable c:)lunin of the regular Confederate armies, under sonu' Morgan, CiJuantrel, or Mosby, happened to be near. The citizens — i)lundered, ravaged, murdered — rarely avenged themselves by becoming guerillas. This singular (piietude ;)f a spirited pe()i»le was to be ac- counted for by several causes. Perhaps the most operative of these was the quixotry of the government; which, in its eager desire for the reputation of a civilized and honorable belliger- THE tjNlTJ:t) STATKS AS A MILITARY NATION 188 euf, nnifoiinly iie<;lectt'(l ;iiul (liseouiajic'd sucli citizcii.s ;is pio- posed to resort to those rij^lits of nature wliicli the ontra«;es of the invaders justified. Tlie i)eo])]e. nioieover. were stran«;ers to war and bloodshed. Two generations of ])rofonnd peace at home, had made ease pleasant, and personal viMijicance ablior- rent to their habits. Their character was (inlet, law-abidinj>\ kindly, in the hij;hest decree. Their hijih civilization, and the standard of material comfort and safety to which they were accustomed, had dis(|ualified them for seekin<>' the rou<;h and turbulent vengeance of the guerilla And then, the men of hardihood and spirit had responded at first to the call of their country, and were in the regular armies. So it was, that the Northern invader was almost wholly free from that species of anno^'ance which, when combined with the resistance of organ- ized armies, becomes so terrible — popular warfare. Next, when we asserted that the armies of the Confeder- acy, inadequate in size as they were, never showed themselves truly good armies in (]uality, we did not im]tugn the gallantry of the bulk of the men c()m])osing them. Themorale opioid v, jo is a thing of comparative estimate. It may be very true (as this discussion will evince) that, compared with that of tln^ Xortli, the morale of the Confederacy was lofty and brilliant. I'ut it must be confessed that, com])ared with the historic standard, the Confederate people and soldiery were not, as a whole, a heroic body. The war found them in a transition state. Very many, perhaps the most of the reputable men (with nearly all the women) still cherished the hardy virtues and ennobling spir- it of Revolutionary grandsires. Yet the cori-upting coitartner- shij) with the North had continued just a generation too long. The leaven of a sensualistic morality and civilizati :)n was at work all through the South; the contagion had already tainted multitudes. Hence, althougli in the moment of first enthusiasm the people seemed to rally almost as one man to the call of liberty raised by the undebauched s})irits. yet when the stress of danger and toil came, many proved themselves craven. The Confederate armies certainly included a class of i)atriot soldicMs the noblest which this age can ])roduce, under any clime. Tliis class was numerous; it embraced, perhaps at all stages of the war, a majority of the levies. But there was also a large ele- ment of baser metal; men who begrudged their sacrifices for 134 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. liberty, aud shii-ked danger. And as deatli thinned tlie ranlvs of the original armies, this worse material became relatively larger. But the fact, that the Canfederacy never had a really good army, can be explained abundantly, without depreciating the gallantry of the Confederate people. It never had the leisure, nor the skilled officers, to organize a thorough army. The pop- ulation, though gallant, was ignorant of w^ar, by reason of two generations of peace. Tlie fewest men aie born soldiers, like the Jacksons, the Ashbys, the Sterling Prices, the Forrests. For ordinary mortals, it is a hard and long lesison, t3 learn that untiring sclf-dfMiial. rliat devotion to duty, that study of detail, that carefulness, iliat self-government, that talent of command, that intelligiMirt- in the arts of attack and defense, which must be added to jteis )nal courage, to make the good of- ficer. Nothing can teach that lesson to them, except long ex- I^erience in actual service. Now the Confederacy was comp<^ll- ed to organize into armies a larger jjortion of its men than any modern nation has been able to keep in the field. It was ybligeu to emplo}' thousands of officers, where it had only a few score - the graduates of West I'oint, and veterans of the little army of Mexico — competent. There was not in the cjuntin' a tithe of the practical knowledge of military duties which was necessary to organize and instruct the armies raised. That so much w'as done, to approximate such bodies of unwarlike men towards the character of regular armies, shows an extraordinary gal- lantry and aptitude f >r war, in the Southern people. But the armies nevei- had (Miough competent officers to make them, as wholes, well drilled or well organized forces. At the beginning of the campaigns of 1.S02, they had more nearly attained this character: thenceforward, while individuals ac(|uired the exper- ience and hardihood of veterans, the regiments gradually lost their regularity of movements, and tactics were more and more at a discount. Southern officers and soldiers uniformly testi- fied that the drill of the Northern regiments (except when confused by attack) was better than their own. But the Northern army mnsi have been but a sorry standard of com- parison in this paiticular, since they had a part of the same difficulties to overcome in extemporizing their forces. The most experienced Southern officers confessed that it was the THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 135 rai-esr spectai-le to see their advancing regiments preserve sneli an alignment in their onset as to deliver anything like a col- lective «hock again the enemy. Usually, the onset was the rush of an impetuous mob, in which the quick men were one or two hundred yards in advance of the slow. It was the tes- timony of the soldiers, that the front line, if supported by a second line of battle in the rear, must always make its account, when tired into by the enemy, to receive also at least a partial tire from their own friends; because no Confederates were ever sufficiently under rhe control of rheir ofHcers, ro hear Northern bullets whistle, without returning them. In the best Confed- erate regiments, during the excitement of battle, eager sugges- tions from privates were as loud, and as intiuential, as com- mands from their officers. This lack of drill was the necessary result, not only of a de- ficiency of officers, but also of the cruelty of the emergency. Troops must needs be hurried to the front before their train- ing was completed; often, before it was begun. T'avalry horses were taken from pasture or i)lougli to-day, and employed in action to-morrow. Kecruits were .sent to the front the day they were enrolled, and wert^ merged at once in active forces, who.se exacting duties in the march, the picket, and the line of battle, left them not one moment for drill, during a whole half year. Troops ceased to go into winter quartei^s; for the cam paigns extended through winter and summer alike. The very lack of instruction and drill necessitated a four-fold exposure of the efficient officers; so that the army was at length almost wholly deprived of its mon^ capable and experienced leaders, by deatli or capture. And. to crown all. the government had laid a foundation for defective discipline, by making the officers elective. From all the.se causes it came to jiass that the ('on- federate armies, while disjjlaying great gallantry on the part of a majority of their uhmi. had scarcely enough discipline and drill to entirlt^ them to the name of regular armies. This de- ficiency was confessed by the highest jtossible authority, that of (ien. Lee himself. This c(msumniate soldier, speaking of the advantage of perfect drill and unity of action, and declar- ing that he believed this advantage so great, as against either of the forces then engaged, as to be almost incapable of exag- geration, pointed to it as the natural remedy for his inferiority 136 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. of numbers, lint tlieu, pausing, lie added, with accents of sig- nificant sadness: "But I cannot give tliis drill to my army, because the enemy has my officers in his prisons." The Federal authorities were exempt, in the task of form- ing their armies, from the most of these difficulties. They had, first, the whole standing army of the I'nited States, as a nucleus and model for their military crystallization. They had the ma- jor part of the instructed officers. They were able to draw mer- cenary officers from all the armies of Europe. They, as the aggressors, could choose their own time for the initiative, and needed not to move their new armies until they thought them ready, while the defendants must, perforce, move to meet them, prepared or unprepared. And especially, the invaders, having their own populous country and all the world to furnish num- bers, were able to keep their new levie*> in the depots, until they were drilled. It was easy for them to have enough men at the front, and enough also in the camps of instruction. The work which the North had to do, therefore, was only to beat forces of one-fourth their own number, or less; and these untrained to war. They should have found the Confederate armies almost as little formidable in their quality as in their size. Fifthly. The credit of the North for this exploit must also be aftected by this fact, that while they had at the outset twen- ty-two millions (22,000,000) against five millions (5,000,000), and during the real crisis of the war, twenty -two millions (22,000,000) against three million eight hundred thousand (3,800,000), they did not deem these odds sufficient, but eagerly sought the aid of the rest of the world. They believed them- selves, if we may infer from their actions, unable to crush this feeble adversary, without drawing from the Southern slaves armies as large as all those of the Confederacy, and from Europe hundreds of thousands of her proletaries. The Fed- eral Secretary of War tells us that he mustered out of service about one hundred and seventy thousand (170,000) negro com- batants. These were recruited almost exclusively from the slaves of their enemies. When Gen. McClellan, during the Presidential canvass of 1864, nshamed of so savage and dis- graceful a dependence, promised that he, if made President, would disband the negro trooi>s, Lincoln himself ridiculed his I'HE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 13t pi'omit^e; saying- that this would deprive tlie riiion cause of the aid of two hundred thousand (200, (MM>) men. and would thus render its suecess hopeless. That is to say, the head .of the Fed- eral T^nion judged that its twenty-two niillion.s (22.000.000). backed by all the mercenaries of Europe, would be unable to conquer these three million eight hundred thousand (3.800,00(1) Confederates, without the aid of two hundred thousand (20(1,- OOOj partially reclaimed, black savages! It would, perhaps, be hard to find documentary data, from which to learn the exact number of foreign recruits in tlie Xoithern armies. We can show that this element was very large. .Vll well-informed persons know that every country of Western Europe was canvassed by "emigration-agents," who, under this thin disguise, were recruiting officers for the North ; and that a large part of that human stream, which flows annu- ally into the United States, was, during the war, directed into the I'nion armies. Not only were foreigners found in every regiment; whole brigades, as that of Meagher, and even divi- sions, a.s that of Blenker, were composed exclusively of Irish men or of (Germans. In the prison depots of the Confederates, half, at least, of the captives gave evidence of foreign birth. The Secretary of War at Washington gives us the nationalities of fifteen thousand seven hundred (15,700) men buried in the military Golgotha of that caipital. Of these, he tells us, four thousand nine hundred (4,f)00) were native white soldiers, four thousand one hundred and eighty (4,180) were negroes, and six thousand six hundred ((),()00| wei-e foreign-born. Either the native-born must have been more chary of exposure to wounds and disease, than the foreign-born; or else, in the armies whicli sent their disabled men to Washington, there must have been more foreigners than native whites in tlie ratio of nearly seven to five. Once more. The reports of the war and navy de- partments of the Washington (lovernment show an aggregate of two million six hundred and fifty-six thousand (2,(>5(j,000) men, actually engaged, at different times, in the military and naval service of the war. But the whole number of men capable of military d\ity. in the "loyal" Sratt^s. who had not been drafted, was two million stn-en hundred and eighty-four thousand (2.784,000.) Whence, if tho.se States had done their own fighting, it would follow that nearly half their men must 138 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. have beeii for a rinn^ in senicr. Bur tlu- iinifoiiii tcsriiiimiv ;-)f travelers and <-irizen.-< was. that the walks of civil life in tlie Xoi-ih exhibited a very .slight depletion of their eustoniary throngs. While, in the South, every assenihlatie, at chureh. at the seats of justice, in the streets of towns which were not military p:)sts. gave striking evidence of the absence of nearly all the arms-bearing men. at the North, a very small part of the home poituhition was absent in the camps. Now, the only solution of this riddle is, that their levies were filled chiefly with foreigners, rutting these data together, it seems very jilain that less than half in the Northern armies were native citizens. In other w )rds. these tweuty-tw) million (22.000.000). after recruiting their armies with two hundred thousand ;200.()00) negroes, were not able to con(]uer the three million eiglit hundr(^d thousand (:l.s0().(i(i(ii. uiiiil they liad associated with them half a million of foreigners. The North f )und it necessary to call all the world to its help, in order to overpower its feeble adversary! But, sixthly, the whole story is not yet told. Even this whole people, with the negroes and all the world to back them, acknowledged themselves unable to subdue the resistance of their little foe. by any ordinaiy methods of warfare recognized among civilized nations. They were compelled to add to these the most ingenious combination of savage and illegitimate ex- pedients, to undermine the adversary whom they could not meet in fair and etjual battle. One of these was the incarcer- ation of unarmed citizens, captured in the pursuits of civil life, who migli; }uM-rli:ince either l)ec()me T'onfederate soldiers afterwards, or might aid some soldier or soldier's family with their industry. Another was the exclusion by blockade of medicines for the sick; a barbarity unheard of before amiuig polite nations. The calculation was. that the stroke of cold steel or disease, in the body of the gallant adversary, might be aggravated unto death in the more instances; and that the pestilence might ravage the h;)me ])o]>ulation. unchecked by the skill of the physician. Anothei- was the destruction of food and the implements of industry, among the peaceful citizens of the South. It was cunningly calculated, that by these means, some brave enemies at the front might be recalled home bv the harrowing news of famine at their beloved hearth- THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITAltY NATION. 139 stones, 01' that, at least, tlicii' arms iiiipe was to make the dearth as wide as the hostile country. Its politicians boasted with an amiable wit, that if the prowess of neither (Jen. ^NlcClellan. nor liurnside, nor Hooker, nor (Irant, could prevail to ''crusli the rebellion," they had enlisted one, more all-conipiering than the whole of them, general starvation. Scarcely a county in the interior of tlie largest Southern State escai)ed this systematic ravage. Wherever the Northern troops went, work-animals were stolen or slaughtered, with all other live stock; all i>louglis and other implements of husbandi-y biokeii; mills and faitories burned; tanneries destroyed, witli llieir hides; and the blessed bread, sacred gift of divine IM-ovidence to man, either burned or trampled under the horses' feet. The sweeping ravages of Sheridan, in Virginia, under the express orders of the com- mander-in-chief, and of Sherman in South Carolina and (leorgia, will never be forgotten while history has a verdict to utter. The flatterers of these men boasted that the desolation was to be so utter that the crow flying across the wastes would be compelled to carry his own rations! And if it was not so complete, the only reason was, that the industry of even North- ern malice wearied of the work of destruction. These methods, and not the Federal arms, were, in truth, the wea]ions which wrought the ruin of tln^ (\)nfederacy. Its little armies never were beaten; they were, in fact, dispersed by the difticulties of subsisteiici'. They did not yield to the force of arms, but to the efficacy of these savage and cowardly means. One moi-e artitice of barl)arism remained. l)y which the gigantic enemy could supidement his lack of prowess; the vio- lation of the cartle for the exchange of prisoners. As soon as 140 THE TJNITED STaTKS AS A MILITARY NaTIOI^. the >\'asliiii.i;toii Goverimitint eanie to iimkn-stand the task it had niideitaken, and to perceive its advantage in wearing out the adversary which it could not meet in a fair field, it began to seek pretexts for evading its own engagements for this ex- change. Ultimately, it came to act upon the policy of holding every dreaded Confederate, whoui it captured. It mattered not to it, that a larger number of its [)wn men were left to pine or die in captivity. At last, when, early in 18(15, the argu- ments or the frank concessions of the Confederate Government had removed the last pretext for delaying the general exchange, "Butler the Beast" was selected by the Federal (xeneralissimo, as a fitting tool, to write a letter so insolent, and so unworthy of a soldier, that it was calculated all intercourse must, per- force, be interrupted, and thus, the doors of the prisons be final- ly closed u]»on the captured Confederates, until their aid would be too late for their cause. "The lieast," disgraced a little after by his master, expressly disclosed this design I And the commander-in-chief, with equal candor, declared, that if the fifty thousand (50,000) ('onfederate soldiers, whom he held, were released, and added to the armies of their country, its conquest would be impossible. He manifestly counted it for nothing, that this exchange would restore' to his ranks fifty thousand (50,000) of his own braves! This, he felt, would be no equivalent; the conquest of that number of Confederates would require an addition of three hundred thousand (."{(MMIOO) negroes, or mercenaries, or native Northerners. Here, then, is the exploit of the Northern people; that twenty-two million (22,000,000), possessed of every material advantage, aided by two hundred thousand (200,000) negroes filched from the South, and by all the mercenary adventurers of the world besides, were able to overpower three million eight hundred thousand (:>,S00,000), after three years, and after they had added to all the legitimate ap])liances of civilized war, all the savage expedients of bad faith, ravage, sack, and disease. In the sober light of these facts and figures, the claim of i)rowess for the North, in this war, is infinitely preposterons. That it did not crush its puny antagonist within the first six months, is subject of burning reproach. That it admitted itself unable to crush him at all single-handed, and was compelled to invoke THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. 141 the aid of all Eur(»j)e. of tlu' pool' ii<\!i>i-o, of savajic artiticc. and bai'baritics loii^ discarded by rivilized iiiau; this should make it silent forever, as to the glories ;)f this war. It is, for it, the most mortifying' exhibition of national impotency. wlneh mod- ern history dist-loses, anywhere this side of China. But still it is pleaded, that if the North failed to display siji,nal prowess in the Held, ir did nevertheless carry throu<;h this ji^reat wai- with sjiirit and deteiniinati )n; and did actually overcome, somehow, a great resistance. Even European ob- servers, iji'norant of facts, seem to admit that, if for nothing; else, the North is to be dreaded for its i)erseverauce, its me- chanical industry, and its financial resources. The plain state- ment of a few truths will also remove this conclusion. It will be seen, tliat the cost at which the victory over the Confed- erates was won is a financial burden, which effectually inca- j)acitates the United States from ajj^ain fijihting with money; that the Northern ])eople, in a moment of reckless i)hrensy, purchased their revenge by crip})lini'- themselves; and that the ruinous jirice paid for their triuni])h leaves their financial credit in as ugly a condition as their military. They, more than any other people, account moui^y to be 'the sinews of war.' On that calculation, the ability of the i)eoj)le for future wars is to be measured by its ability to pay additional taxes, and to con- tract further loans in the money-markets of the world, for mili- tary enterprises. If the Ignited States can get as much more money (and can find among Southern negroes and foreign emigrants another seven hundred thousand (700,000) of 'gud- geons,' to l)e befooled), then, perhaps, they are competent to the con(p]est of another spirited little nation of four or five million souls. Such seems to be the measure of their ])romise for military exploits in the future. There is sonu4hing impres- sive to the bystander, in the exhibition of tremendous effort. If it be granted that the athlete can do again and again what we have just seen him do. he is invested in our eyes with a very portentous aspect ; we feel that he would be a terrible fellow to have upon our hands. But when we discover that the I)resent ett'orts (than which none less would have savml him from being beaten by his little adversary) are so far beyond nature, that they have ruptured a blood-vessel or an intestine, and crixjpled him for life, we degrade him from a formidable 142 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. antagonist to a broken duwu champion. Onr panic is ertectually cured. To appreciate, then, the financial resources of the United States for further military enterprises, tlie experienced public man will examine the following points: the existing burdens of debt, which must still be provided for, whatever new one may be incurred; the cost of the existing administration, to the people; the ability and disposition yf the people for tax- paying; the economy and eflftciency of the present administra- tion; the present state of the national credit, with the probable influence upon it of a great increase in the national indebted- ness; the unity and patriotism of the popular feeling; and all these, compared with similar elements of strength in the nations which are to be the probable antagonists. What then are the existing burdens of debt, which the United States must carry through any future wars? At the end of 1808, the recognized debt of the Federal Government was three thousand and eighth-six and a half millions of dollars (P,080,438,G:35). Nearly the whole of this accrued in the four years jf the Confederate war. This total includes the current treasury notes, called greenbacks (which are the Clov- ernment's i)roniises to pay), and the certificated debt not A'et bonded. The annual interest upon this debt, which must be raised by taxation, is one hundred and forty and a half mil- lions (|140,424,00()j; of which the larger part is paid in coin, although the loans were received by the Grovernment in depre ciated paper. To pay this debt, the United States have thirty- four and a third millions of souls (in 1800, 34,288,870). Let this debt be compared with that of the leading I'owers of Christendom, especially those of Western p]urope. England owes a national debt of three thousand six hundred and forty- two millions of dollars (P.n42,()00,()00), and pays upon it an annual interest of one hundred and twenty-six millions of dol- lars (|126,000,()()0). To bear these burdens, there are in the IJritish Isles about twenty-nine millions (29,000.()00j of souls; but they have, in the remainder of the British Empire, one hundred and fifty-four millions (154,000,000), who are com- mercially tributary to them, and thus supply the ability to pay taxes sixfold above their numbers. It must be remembered, also, that while the British debt is the gradual result of a 'THE UNITED STAtES AS A MILITARY NaTIOJST. 14!^ number of great wars and glorious enterprises, continued for generations, which have added vast territories and untold wealth to the Empire, the debt of the United States was nearly all incurred in four years, as the price of tlie desjlariou of the fairer half of their home domain. The Empire of Austria has thirry-five and a half millions (35,oU(),()00j of souls. Its national debt is about one thousand four hundred and nineteen millions of dollars (|l,419,0U0,UUUj. Austria is usually regarded as the most burdened and paralyzed of the great Powers of Europe. France, with its dependencies, has a population of forty-four and a half millions (44,500,000). Its national debt is two thousand two hundred and forty-seven millions of dollars (|2,247,000,000). All these great Powers feel that, in the burdens of their debts for former wars, they haA'e given caution to uiankind for a pacific behavior in the future. But the real burdens of the people of the United States have not yet been disclosed. The (xovernments of the several States acknowledge an aggregate of debt, amounting to about three hundred and fifty-seven millions (|35T,000,()00). This should be added, because it is a part of the load the people have to carry; the payment of interest and principal must be provid- ed from the taxes of the same tax-payers who pay the Federal debt. So, in comparing the burdens of the United States with those of its neighbors, fairness requires the same addition to be made; because here, this Federal, and these State Govern- ments only perform, together, the same functions which in EuroiJe are rendered to the people by the central governments. The State debts, then, must be added. But this is not all. It is very well knt)wn that the >»'orthern people were s.o averse to military service, that enlistments were, in most cases, procured only by high bounties. When the Central Government began to draw imperative requisitions for men on the States, the local authorities, instead of simply drafting the required numbers from among their own militia, almost universally made arrangements for purchasing merce- naries to supply their quotas; thus relieving their own citizens from the dreaded service. The pi-ice usually ])aid, t) wards the end, for the human cattle for Confederate shambles, was not less than hfteen hundred dollars each. A sorry coninu'ntary, 144 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. by the way, ui)uii rlie coui-a^e and parriorisni of that peoph', that so large a bribe was needed to persnade them tit "save the life of the nati;)u."' But thus it came to pass, that not only the States, but cities, counties, country towns, and even the rural subdivisions called, a mono- tliat peojtle. townships, raised loans, and purchased substitutes. Laws were passed to authorize them to make such loans, and to levy the taxes necessary to lirovide for theii- interest. Mrtney had indeed been raised, in many cases, for internal improvements, in the same mode; and similar loaus for canals and railr tads remain as a part of the popular burdens. The aggregate of these bounty-debts cannot be estimated by us, from any evidences in our reach; but some data will be given to enable the reader to approximate it. The city of Philadelithia alone, it is believed, owes a debt of forty- f mr millions |S44. ()()(). (KKli. chit-tly fitr bounties. It was a very ••loyal" city. I; claims about six hundred thousand (OIKt.Ood) souls. The State of New York admits a bounty-debt of its cwn of twenty-six millions (.^iMi.ltOO.lMMI). \\\\\ cities, counties and townshi})s. within the State, have also their own little debts fur this and similai- objects, in additi »n. The Comptroller of the State Treasury received inconijdeti^ rctni-ns of these local debts, from which he made an aggregate, at the end of last year, of eighty-three and a half millions (f83,500.(»(M)i. The State of New York claims a jtopulation of three million eight hundred thousand (:5.S(M(. ()()(»). The two instances of this city and this State, may indicate how the- local burdens have accrued. A few othe]- items may aid in our apjiroximatitm. The Federal Secretary of Wax informs us tliat. in the latter part of tin- war. there were one hundred and thirty-six thousand (l.'>r>.()(Ml) re-enlistments of the veterans houorably discharged. It is W(41 known that these usually received the highest boun- ties. If we place them at fifteen hundred dollars each, these cost the Xoithein people two hundred and four millions (1204,000,0(10). The system of bounties was general from May, ]S(;:*>, until the end of the war. The (Government itself fixed the minimum ]»rice of a man at three hundred doihirs. Ity appointing that sum as the cost of an exemption from the draft. But it is well known that few substitutes were pur- chased at so cheap a rate. The Secretary of AYar informs us that after May 1, 1868, there were one million six hundred and TnE TTNITED STATES AS A MILITAUY NATION. 14^ tliiii y-t'om- tlioiisaiul (l,G34,()(Hr) ciilisrinciirs. Phu-iiij; the cost of each of these eiili-stiiieuts at tluee luiiulred doHars, which is far below the averaj^e bounty, soinebDdy had to i)ay for them foui- hundied and ninety millions (|4no.()0().()(l(l). The "boun- ty-jnm})eis/ as is well known, peipeli-ated imnuMise frauds; and the number of bounties paid tliem was far larger tliaii tliat of the enlistments. We are thus convinced that this lui^e "unknown (quantity" in the problem, the local and State bounty-debt, cannot be less than many hundreds of milli >ns of dollars. But in estimating- the actual linancial burden which tlie people of the United States must carry, through any future war, all this must be added. It was a part of the cost of the Confederate war. The interest and principal of it must be paid by the same people who have the Federal debt to jjay. If the policy, pursued by the (xovernment as to the local obligations incurred in the war of the Kevolution, is again to prevail, all these bounty-debts should be assunu^l and funded by the InittMl States. Already this claim is heard in many (juarters. The recognized State and Federal debts, as w(- have seen, amount to three billion four hundred and forty-three million d )llars (13,443,195,000). It is most manifest, that the total mass of public debt now resting on the American people (nearly the whole incurred in the late war), for the payment of wliicli ]U'ovision must be made l)y taxation, must be at least four billions jf dollars (.|;4,()()(),()()0,()()()). Mv. Andrew Johnson, late President of the United States, and an ardent advocate of the war, always aftirmed constantly, that tlu:> total cost of the war, to the tax- payers, would prove to be live billions (|5,000,000,000). He, of course, is good authority. And the interest on this debt is fromy?7'^ fo seven and one fifth per centum'. Some may be so thoughtless as to sujtpose that repiidiation would lift this vast incubus off the shoulders :)f the nation. The fatal objections to rebelling that deliverance by that mode, are, first, that nobody would lend his money for the s(Mond war to a debtor who so treacher )usly rid himself of his ol)ligations for the first; wlienct^ tlie national credit would ai once succumb; and. secondly, that the annihilation of so many securities of j)ublic debt would immediately ])i'oduce a financial convulsion, at which the private wealth Df immense numbers at the North, 146 THE UNITED STATES AS A MILITARY NATION. already' to a very large extent speculative aud factitious, would collapse, like a soap bubble pierced with a straw. The over- burdened credit of the government cannot be lifted up by repudiation. Another burden which the people of the United States must carry, through any future war, along with the interest of its existing debt, is the cost of its present administration upon the peace establishment. In the year 1868, the Federal income was about three hundred and seventy-six aud a half millions $376,000,000), and the expenditures were about one million (1,000,000) more. We have seen that one item of this expen- diture was the annual interest upon the debt, one hundred and forty millions and a half (110,500,000). This left something more than two hundred and thirty-six millions (^236,000,000) as the cost of the military, naval and civil service. But the goyernments of the States, which are an unavoidable part of the public burdens, cost last year nearly seventy-six and a half millions (76,500,000). Adding tliis sum. we find that the Ameri- can people actually paid to their governments, the last year, four hundred aud fifty-three millions of dollars (|153,000,000i. And this was exclusive of the support of religion (with which the governments, State and Federal, profess to have nothing to do), and exclusive also of the costs of municipal administra- tion, and of the larger part of the cost of the national education, which are paid for by the people separately. Nor is the interest on the vast bounty debts included. Let this burden be compared with those borne by the lead- ing nations of Europe, which are usually believed to tax the strength of their subjects as severely as nature can well endure. Austria, with a million (1,000,000) more of people than the United States, pays her government annually two hundred aud thirty-eight and a half millions of dollars ($238,500,000). The forty four millions (11,000,000) of Frenchmen are taxed, in all, three hundred and eighty-five millions (385,000,000). The British Empire collects a national revenue of three hundred and thirty-seven millions (337,000,000). It appears, therefore, that the people of the United States now have the most costly and onerous system of government to sustain, and the heaviest taxation, in a season of profound peace, of any people in Chris- tendom. But the most startling fact is, that their money goes THE UNITED STATES AS A MrLITARY NATION. 147 SI) vei y short a waj towards defending the coiintrr. Whih- Ansirii!, out :)f the revenues above uientioned, i»ays tlie interest on her debt, and tlie whole cost of jj;()vernnient, islie sustains also rwo hundred and forty-four thousand (244,00(1) armed men, as her peace establishment; France, four liundred and fifty- eiirht thousand (458,000), and England., two hundred and six thousand (L'0(J,000). But the United States, with an income larger by one-fourth than the largest of them, and a home pop- ulation whose government should cost little, seeing the people in theory govern themselves, sustains only fifty-six thousand (Mght liundred and eighty-one (5(»,881) soldiers, sailors, and marines, to defend the country! Tlie comparison of this mili- tary establishment with that of (Ireat Britain, is especially damaging, because that empire, like tlie United States, has no conscrii»tion, and raises its armies by enlistment and pay. How friglitful must be tluit incompetency, disorder, and peculation, wlncli, out of revenues so immense, effects so little for national defense! In the United vStates a smaller population actually pays a larger sum than in any of the old despotisms of Europe. It is thus demonstrated that tlie taxation must be luore onerous here than in any of them. Let this be illustrated in a few^ par- ticulars. The municipal government of the city of Xew York, with about nine hundred thousand (900,000) people, costs twenty-two millions of dollars (|2l',000,000) annually, in addi- tion to the State and Federal imposts. Tlie taxes of the citizens of the State of Xew York exacted by State laws, amount to twelve dollars (fl2) annually for every soul. There are town- ships in that State where the Federal, State, and local taxes make six per centum upon the total values of all the property of every si)ecies, rated at a full valuation. The incoiuie tax of Great Britain is now (if we mistake not) two and a half pence on the i)ound sterling of clear income, which is but little over one per centum. The income tax of the Ignited States is five per centum. This tax in (treat Britain yielded, last year, not (juite thirty millions of dollars (!it;aO,000,000); in the Ignited States, thirty-tliree millions (|:{:^,000.0()0). lint the former country, with its hundred and fifty-four millions (154,000,000) of commercial tributaries, is live times as able to pay an lucomi* tax as the United States. 148 THE UNITED 8TATES AS A MILITARY NATION. It may be objected to this surprising picture, that it canuot be consistent with the ehistic prosperity of this teeming, new country. Tlie reply is, that tlie country is not now either elastic or prosperous. The burden of taxation is actually crushing it into a collapse. All industrious classes, who do not make their gains at the expense of others, are sensibly overburdened. The traffic of the country is unhealthy, and the circulation of com- modities is extravagantly costly. Notwithstanding nominal high wages, the laborer is more and more depressed; and in our great metropolis every tenth human being is a pauper in midsummer! Now if the people of the United States, with inferior num- bers and ability for enduring taxation, are, in this time of peace, Iturdened with a larger debt, heavier taxes, and a more costly, j.rodigal, and inetticient government, than any of their great neighbors, it is plain they are financially hel])less for great military enter])i-ises against those neigli])!)rs. But let this argument be enlianced by a view of the present state of the national credit. The only currency of the people is a depreciated paper, based, not on a capital stock of specie, but on the promises to pay of this overburdened debtor, the (rovernment. And meantime the bonds of the United States, bearing six per cent, interest in specie, fluctuate in London from seventy-two to eighty-three in the hundred; while the scrip of the British national debt, paying an interest of only three and a \i^\i per cent., sells almost at pari The present burdens of the people so obviously tax their utmost strength, that the credit of the Grovernment staggers under those burdens in the hour of peace, and in the glow of recent victory. Let a grave danger arise, bringing the certainty of another great addition to this monstrous load, aiul tlu^ whole fabric of public credit would dissolve at once into ruin. The Washington Government, if it is wise, will therefore cultivate a very pacific demeanor towards all its powerful neighbors. And it will be further inclined to this prudent policy, if it considers the tendency of its methods for conquer- ing the South, and for treating it when conquered, to make the ex-Confederates trustw^orthy and istaunch supporters of its flag under the burdens and trials of another war. The lesson to be drawn from this review of the "situation" is, therefore, obvious- ly one ol peace. STONEWALL lACKSON.' A lecture delivered in Baltimore in November, 1872, by Rev. Dr. R. L. Dabney. (Anything from the able pen of Dr. Dabney concerning Stonewall Jackson would be read with interest. His 'position as Chief of Statf, his intimate personal relations with the great chieftain, and his study of his character and his campaigns when acting as his chosen biographer, peculiarly fit Dr. Dab- ney to tell the story of Jackson's life, or to delineate his char- acter. We are confident, therefore, that our readers will thank us for giving them the following j^aper, even though there may be dissent from some of the views presented. We print it just as it was originally delivered, only regretting that we are com- pelled by the press upon our pages to divide it into two parts.) I am expected to speak to-night of Stonewall Jackson. The subject sounds remote, antiquated, in these last days. How seldom does that name, once on every tongue, mix itself now-a- days, with the current speech of men? Is it not already a fos- sil name, almost? I must ask yju, in order to inspect it again, to lift off sundry superincumbent strata of your recent living memories and inttn-ests, to dig down to it. (Jreat is tlie con- trast wrought by the nine calendar years which have inter- vened since the glory of conquering Jackson, and the sequel "Jackson is dead," were blown by fame's trumpet from Chan- cellorsville over all lands, and thrilled the praecordia in every Southern bosom. Then, the benumbing shock which the words struck into our hearts, taught us how great and heroic this man had made himself, how essential to our cause, how foremost in all our hopes. And when his great Sujjerior said (with a mag- niinimity whicli matches Jackson's heroism), "Tell him he has 'o^st his left arm; but I have lost my right arm"; all men felt. "Yea! Lee has lost his right arm; the cause has lost its right \ From •Southern Historical Society Papert." April. May. 1883. 149 150 STONEWALL JACKSON. anil." And the thickening disasters wliich that h)ss soon en- tailed, taught them, educated them, for a time, to appreciate Jackson's as the transcendant fame of all our war. It sounded in every true heart; it echoed in us from the thunder of the final downfall. But now, who recalls it to his speech? Why this? Was that fame an empty simulaceum worthy only to be a nine-days' wonder, or was his devotion a blunder? Or are our people changed, so as to be no longer able to appre- ciate that devotion? We hope not, for it were a sad thing for them, betokening moral death, decay and putrescence, that they should become incaj)able of a heart-homage to this name. We hope not. But it is already anti(]uated; for the world moves fast in these times. Many things have happened in these times, to stir, to fatigue, to wring our hearts; great wrongs to be endured passively until endurance obtused the sensibility, multiplied tragical wails of friends sinking in the abyss of poverty and obscure desipair; a social revolution; a veritable cataclysmus, which has swept away our old, fair, happy world, with its pleas- ant homes fragrant with ancestral virtues and graces, and has left us a new w^orld, ais yet chiefly a world of quicksand and slime; with no olive tree, alas, as yet growing. Yes; we have lived long in these nine evil years; to us they are a century of experiences. We are odl, very old, superannuated perhaps, those of us who remember eTackson, and the days when he fought for freedom. Will you not then bear with our garrulity a little, should we even babble of our hero? For it is a pleas- ant thing to recall those old days of wearing the grey, with a Jackson to lead us to assured victory, when we were men as yet ; with rights and freedom of our own, slipping then indeed from our too inept hands, yet enough our own still to fight for; when we had hope, and endeavor and high emprise, insipired by our leader's example; and hardship and danger for the cause, endured cheerily, as a sport; when we had a country, loved all the more proudly that she was insulted and bleeding. The memory of those days is bright; but it is attended by a contrast most black and grim. Ovei- against that splendid past, there glooms the shadow of the Mammon-Molock, named by mockery, "reconstruction," with its most noisome iscalawag odor, reeking of the pit. The joy of this reminiscence must be STONEWALL JACKSON. 151 then a mixed joy, and the duty assigned me, while sacred and not unpleasing — never shall it be unpleasing to us to celebrate the fame of Jackson; for Aim the shadow touches not — yet a duty difficult and sad. I remember well, that naught except a circumstance is deem- ed by you to have endowed this hand with any fitness to re- fresh the characters of that fame; the circumstance of a brief association with his person during the most glorious part of his career. You would fain hear from me what manner of man he appeared to one who was next to him, the ordinary mouth- piece of his will, the sharer of his bivouac and his morsel, who got the nearest glimpses through the portals of that reserve, which no man might enter, who watched closely, and he may even venture to affirm, intelligently, the outworkings of the secret power within. This so reasonable desire of yours I pro- pose to satisfy, not by presuming to name and catalogue his at- tributes, analytically, by my judgment, or conceit, as may be — for this would be to regard you as pupils, rather than patrons — nor yet, by studying the cumulation of superlative, laudatory epithets, — for this would imply that I deemed you not only pu- pils, but gullible' — but by painting before you some select, sig- nificant action of Jackson's own, wherein you may judge for yourselves as freely as other spectators, what manner of man this was. And I exhort you to expect in this description no grace, save the homely one of c/ear iruf/i:' homeU' it may be and most ungamished, yet truly what my eyes saw and my ears heard. For is not this tlie quality most worthy of him who would portray Jackson? And should the narrative have, with its other unskillfulness, that of a certain egotistn, I pray you bear in mind, that the necessity of this emerges in a man- ner from my task. For what is my qualification therefor? save that it was my fortune, along with many worthier men in the ranks to behold (not my merit to do) some of these wonders whereof you would fain hear; and when you ask for the testi- mony of the eye-witness, the hunrble Ego must needs speak in the egotistical first person. And first, that I should ever have been invited to be next his person at all, was characteristic of Jackson. He, who was an alumnus of the military academy at West Point, and noth- ing but a professional military man all his life, was least bound 152 STONEWALL JACKSON. in professional trammels. This rrair he signified, in part, bv his selection of successive chiefs for his staff, none of whom had even snuffed the classical air of West Point or Lexington, my intended predecessor and actual successor (J. A. Armstrong and C. J. Faulkner), and the next successor (A. S. Pendleton), but chiefly by the selection of me, a man of peace, and soldier Df the Prince of I'eace, innocent, even in youth, of any tincture of military knowledge. Herein was indeed a strange thing; That I, the parson, tied to him by no blood tie, or interest, and by acquaintanceship only slightest and most transient; that I, at home nursing myself into partial convalescence from tedious fever, contracted in the performance of my spiritual functions among the soldiers of the previous campaign; that I. conscious only of unfitness, in body and mind, for any direct help to the cause, save a most sore apprehension of its need of all right- eous help, and true love to it; that such an one as I should, in the spring of 1862, be in\ited by him to that post. Verily, had not all known "this is a man that doth not jest," it should have seemed to me a jest. But the wisest men, speaking most in God's fear, replied to me: "See that thou be not rash to shut this door, if it be that God harh o}iened unto thee." And / feared to shut ti, until he. by whom the call was uttered, should know how unfit I was to enter in. Further than this, in ver\" truth, my mind went not. But if you would hear on what wise Jackson was wont to .speak, these are iha ipsissima verba: "Near Mt. Jackson, April 8th, 1862. ' ^My Lear Doctor: "The extra sessiim of our Legislature will prevent Mr. Jas. D. Armstrong, of the Virginia Senate, from joining me as my A. A. General. If the position would be acceptable to you, please take the accompanying recommendatiDn to Kichmond, get the appointment, and join me at once, provided you can make your arrangements to remain with me during the re- mainder of the war. Your rank will be that of Major. Your duties will re(iuire early rising and industry. Please let me hear from you at once. "Very truly your friend, "T. J. JACKSON." STONEWALL JACKSON. 153 Now, is not the fashion of these words a very revelation to him who will consider of the fashion of the man? He has time to tell that which is essential, but no word more. He makes it known, that his war means work, and is no dilettan- tism, or amateur soldiering. Nor is it the warfare of gallant bar- barians, wherein much castrameutal laziness or even license can redeem itself by some burst of daring and animal phrensy; but "early rising and industry.'' "Now, wilt thou, or wilt thou not?" And, if yes, then let thy act fuUow thy assent without dallying. But yet, only on one condition must the ''yes" be said to such as him, to remain uuchanged ''during the renuiin- der of the war." He who would aspire to work and fight as Jacksan's next assistant, must be one who would not look back after he had put his hand to the plough; but one, who like his master, came to stay with his work until it wa« ended, except, perchance. God should first end him. Thus then went I, to show Jackson why I might not enter into this door of service, and yet seem no recreant (in staying out) to my country's needs. I found him at a place, gateway of the mountains that befriended him, named of the vicinage Con- rad's Store; the Shenandoah tlood before liim, and beyond, mul- titudinous enemies thronging — lield at bay, checkmated, gnash- ing vainly up(jn him; while he, in the midst of din and march- ing battalions, going to the watch-post, and splashing squad- rons, splashing through mire most villainous, and of snow- wracks and sleet of the ungenial spring, — of ''winter lingering in the lap of spring," — stood calm, patient, modest, yet serious, as though abashed at the meanest man's reverence for him ; but at sternest peril unabashed. After most thoughtful, yea, fem- inine care of food and fire for me, he took me apart saying, "I am glad that you have come." But I told him that I was come, I feared, uselessly, only to reveal my unfitness, and retire; al- ready half-broken by camp-disease, and enervated by student's toil. "But Providence," replied he, "will preserve your health, if he designs to use you." I was unused to arms, and ignorant of all military art. "You can learn," said he. "When would you have me assume my office?" "Rest to-day, and study the 'Articles of ^A'a^,' and begin to-morrow." "But I have neither outfit, nor arms, nor horse, for immediate service." "My quar- termaster shall lend them, until you procure your own." "But 154 STONEWALL JACKSON. I have a graver disqualification, which candor requires me to disclose to you, first of mortals; I am not sanguine of success; our leaders and legislators do nor seem to me to comprehend the crisis, nor our people to respond to it; and, in truth, the impulse which I feel to flv our of my sacred calling, to my countr\''s succor, is chiefly the conviction that her need is so desperate. The effect on me is the reverse of that which the old saw ascribes to rhe rars when rhey believe the ship is sink- ing." "But," saith he, laughing; "If rhe rats will only run this way, the ship will not sink." Thus was I overruled. You will remember that rheory of his character, which most men were pleased to adopt, when he was first entrusted with command: ''This man," said they, "is true, and brave, and religious; but narrow and mechanical. He is the man to lead a fighting battalion, under the direction of a head that can think; but strategy, prudence, science, are not in him. His very reserve and relucrance ro confer resulr from his own con- sciousness, that he has no faculry of speech nor power of thought, to debate wirh orher men." Had I been capable of so misjudging his silence and modesry, as to adopt this theory, his career must ere this have blown it all into thin air; the first Manassas and Kernstown, and the retreat before Banks had al- ready done thaf, for all save fools. All who served under him had already learned that there was in him abundant thought and counsel, deep and sagacious. He asked questions of all; sought counsel of none; "gave no account to any man of his matters." Once only, did council of war ever sit for him, to help him to "make up his mind." And it was then, by their inferior sagacity, made up so little to his liking, that he asked such aid no more. Power of speech there was in him also, as I witnessed; such truly eloquent speech, as uttered quickly the very heart of his thought, and could fire the heart of the list- ener. But he deemed rhar rhe conrrovej^sy he waged was no longer parliamentary; rhar rhe only logic seemly for us at that stage, was i\ieuliima ratio Regum To such respondent as the rimes then appointed unto him. the cannon peal, and the charg ing yell of the "men in grey," were rhe reply, which ro him seemed eloquent: all else was emptier rhan silence. But instead of leading you to a brief review of his whole career, which would perforce be trite, because hurried, I would STONEWALL JACKSON, 155 describe to you so-nie one of the exploits of liis genius, which best illustrates it. One of these I suppose to be Port Republic. Let me, then, present it to you. To comprehend the battle:? of Port Eepublic, you must re- call the events which ushered them in; the defeat of Milroy at McDowell in the early May of 1802, that of Banks at Winches- ter; the concentration of Generals Fremont and Shields towards Strasbourg to entrap Jacksan at that place; his narrow escape, and retreat up the great Valley to Harrisonburg. He brought with him, perhaps, a force of twelve thousand men, footsore from forced marches, and decimated by their ov.n victories. ?^o more succors could come to Jackson from the east; tlie coil of the snake around Lee and the Capital was becoming too close for him to assist others; and all that the government expected of Jackson was, to retreat indefinitely, fortunate if he could at once escape complete destruction, and detain the pursuers from a concentration against Richmond. Such was the outlook of affairs upon the 8th of June. On the 11th of June, both the pursuers were in full retreat, broken and shattered, fleeing to shelter themselves near the banks of the Potomac, while Jack- son was standing intact, his hands full of trophies, and ready to turn to the help of Lee in his distant death-grapple with Mr- Clellan. Such was the achievement. Let us see how his genius wrought it out. The skill of the strategist is in availing himself of the na- tural features of the country, which may be helpful to him. In this case these features were mainly the Blue Kidge mountains, dividing the great Valley from Piedmont, Virginia; the Slien- audoah river, a noble stream at all times, and then everywhere uufordable because of its swolleu state; and the Great Valley Turnpike, a paved road extending parallel to the mountain and river, from the Potomac to Staunton. From a point east of Strasburg to another point east of Harrisonburg extends the Masanuttin mountain, a ridge of fifty miles length, parallel to the Blue Ridge, and dividing the Great Valley into two val- leys. Down the eastera of these, usually called the Page-county valley, the main river passes, down the other passes the great road. Up this road, west of the Masanuttin mountain was Jack- son now retreating, in his deliberate, stubborn fashion, while Fremont's 18,000 pursued him. Up another road parallel, but 156 STONEWALL JACKSON. on the eastern side both of that mountain and of the main river, marched Shields, with his 8,000 picked troops. Neither had any pontoon train, for Banks had burned his in his impotent flight in May. Why did nut Shields, upon coming over from the Piedmont to Front Koyal, for the }>urpose of intercepting Jack- son in the lower valley, at once crof^s the Shenandoah and place himself in effectual concert with his partner. Fremont? He had possession of a bridge at Fron-t Royal. They were endeav- oring to practice a little lesson in the art of war, which they fancied they had learned from the great teacher, Jackson, whicn they desired to improve, because it was learned, as they soreiy felt, at the cost of grievous stripes, and indignities worse than those of the dunce-block. But their teacher would .show them again, that they were not yet instructed enough to descend from that "bad eminence." Let me explain this first lesson. The Blue-Ridge, parallel to the great Valley road, is pene- trated only at certain "gaps," by roads practicable for armies. On the east of it lay the teeming Piedmont land, untouched by ravage as yet, and looking towai-ds the capital and the main army of the Confederacy. This mountain, if Jackson chose to resort to it, was both his fastness and his '"base of operations"; for the openings of its gaps ottered him natural strongholds, unassailable by an enemy, with free communication at his rear for drawing supplies or for retreating. When Banks first pur- sued him up the Valley, he had turned aside at Harrisonburg to the eastward, and seated himsi'lf behind the river at Con rad's Store in the mouth of Swift Run Gap. And then Banks began to get his first glimpse of his lesson in strategy. He found that his coveted way (up the great Valley road) 7in7s now parallel to his enemy s base. Even into his brain did the in- convenience of such line of advance now insinuate itself, and he paused at Harrisonburg. Paused awkv;ardly, with the road open to his coveted prize, Staunton, the strategical key of the commonwealth, with not a man in gray there to affright his doughty pickets: the quarry trembling for the expected swoop of the vulture. Forward, General Banks. Carpe diem; the road is open I But Banks would not forward — could not I There was a poised eagle upon the vulture's flank, with talons and beak ready to tear out the vitals beneath his left wing. Shall Banks face to the left and drag the eagle from his aerie, STONEWALL JACKSON. 157 and then advance? Let him try that. Then, there is the water- tlood in front to be crossed, only by one long, narrow bridge, which would be manifestly a bridge of Lodi, but not with ob- tuse, kraut-consuming Austrlans behind it. And there is the mountain, opening its dread jaws, right and left, to devour the assailant. Xo. Banks cannot even try that! What then shall he try? Alas, poor man, he knows not what; he must consider, sitting meanwhile upon that most pleasant village of Harrison- burg, amidst its green meadows. Is not the village now his verital)le dume-stool for the time, where he shall sit, reluctant, uneasy, "swelling and snubbing," until it appear whether he can learn his horn-book or not? And it was while he was there sitting, the horn-book not mastered, that Jackson like the tor- nado, made his first astounding gyration, his first thunder-clap at McDowell, away on the western mountain, his second echo- ing to it from Front Royal on the far east, his crowning, rend- ing crash at Winchester. And Masters Banks and Shields find themselves with incomprehensible smoke and dust, clean out- side the school-room, yea, the play-ground, they scarcely know how (they "sto )d not on the order of their going"), with eyes very widely glaring, yet with but little light of speculation in them. This was lesson number first. And now say my masters to each other, ^'This lesson which cost us so dear, learned by buffet- ings so rude, yea, even kicks, with the bitter chorus of inex- tinguishable laughter of rivals, shall we not profit by it? Shall we not use it in our turn? Yea, we will not be always dunces: we will let people see that we can say, at least, that lesson again. The lion will retreat surlily, after he brake the toils at Strasburg, up the great Valley road, growling defiance, huge ribs of the prey between his jaws. Fremont shall closely pur- sue his rear with IS.OOO. and Shields shall advance abreast, be- tween him and the mountain, with S,0()(), to head him off from his rock-fastness. We shall circumvent him in the open field; we shall confound him on the right hand and the left; the one shall amuse him in front, when he stands at bay, and the other shall smite him by guile under the ribs; and we shall take his spoils.'' And, therefore, it was that Shields crossed not the river below, at Strasburg, but remained apart from his mate. They forgot that it is the prerogative of genius, to have no I'^^S STONEWALL JACKSON". need to repeat itself; its resources are ever new; it can invent, can create upon occasion. It is dull dunce-hood, whick only knows how to repeat the lesson that has been well beaten into it. The Southern Lion, then, marches surlily up the great Val- ley, turning at bay here and there, when the whelps dog his heels too insolently, with a glare and a growl instructive to them to observe a wholesome interval; while Ashby, ubiqui- tious, peers everywhere over the Masanuttin, upon the advance of Shields — burns bridge after bridge, Mount Jackson bridge. White House bridge, Columbia bridge, entailing continued in- sulation upon him. The mighty hunt reaches Harrisonburg. Will it turn again eastw^ard to the mountain? Shields shall see, he reaches Conrad's store. There is the old lair, the muni- tion of rocks, but no Jackson seeking t3 crouch in it; only the bridge leading to it (and which alone could lead' him out of it), just in flames. Evidently Jackson will teach some other les- son this time, and Shields and Fremont must learn it. at what cost they may. He will turn ea7>tward again, and resort tD the river and the mountains, whose floods and forests he will make light for him, even as "the stars in their courses fought against Sisera,"' but under conditions wholly novel. Now that you may comprehend Jackson, I must endeavor to make you see this region of Port Republic, as nearly as may be. Behold then the side road from Harrisonburg to that til- lage, passing over sundry miles of those high hills, common to calcareous regions, (lofty as the highest viewed from the north- ernmost end of your Druid Hill Park), mostly parallel to each other, and at right angles to the road, clad also frequently with woodlands upon their summits, the vales between filled with farms. Close at the foot of the last of these ridges flows the shining river, here running almost due east, as does the great mountain parallel to it, three miles away. Look thitherward, and between you and that green rampart you see, first the water, then smooth meadows far below you, spreading wider to the left, away to Lewiston, until their breadth expands almost to a mile; while underneath you stretches the long bridge, and nest- les the white village amidst the level fields. Beyond, the forest begins, thick, tangled and bosky, pierced by more narrow, ser- pentine, but easy roadways, than your eye would suspect, and spreads away, rising into hills as it recedes towards the true STONEWALL JACKSON. 159 mountain foot. Just below the village comes a sparkling tribu- tary, South river, deemed scarcely worthy of a bridge, and min- gles its waters at the angle of the little green with its elder sis- ter; while the one broad thoroughfare leads up the village and away to the southwest to Staunton; and the other, fording the lesser stream to the left, plunges into the forest to seek Brown's Gap. Look now, far away to the east, where river and moun- tain begin to lose themselves in the summer haze. You per- ceive that the tangled wilderness, after embaying one more modest farm below Lewiston, closes in upon the bank of the stream, ending for many miles, champaign and tillage, and al- lowing but one narrow highway to Conrad's Store, fifteen miles away. Such is your landscape from your elevated outlook northwest of the river; and this is the chess-board upon which the master hand is to move knights and -castles, not Ms own merely, but also his adversary's. Saturday, the 7th of June, Jackson led all his troops to those high hills northwest of the river, posting half of them three miles back, under Ewell, to confront Fremont, and the re- mainder upon the heights overlooking Port Republic, while he himself crossed the bridge and lodged in that village. That evening Fremont sat down before Powell, and Shields, perceiv- ing that he must seek Jackson still farther, pushed Ins army up the narrow forest road from Conrad's Store, and showed its head at Lewiston. Thus, Jackson's army and Fremont's w^ere upon the one side of the river, Shield's and the village upon the other. To cross it there remained now but the one passage, which lay under the muy^zles of Jackson'is cannon, for all the bridges above and below had been burned. Fremont and Shields would now, therefore, apply the old strategy, which red tape once deemed appropriate for the super- ior numbers. They would surround Jackson on sundry sides, with divided forces, from different directions, and thus crush him. The lessons of the old Napoleon had not been enough to teach them; this new Virginian Napoleon will, perhaps, illum- inate their obtuseness, but with light too sulpliurous for their delectation. This old plan, attempted against a wakeful and rapid adversary, ca})ablc of striking successive^ blows, only in- vites him "to divide and cdnqucr." This Jackson will now Icai-li them in his own time, and it shall be lesson humbei' second. 160 STONEWALL JACKSON. They shall uever strike rogether; iiay, Shields shall never strike at all. but he stricken: thus hath the master of the game al- ready decided. Shall Jackson, then, hold Shields at arms' length, and strike the larger prey, P"'remout. first? This the impassable river and the dominant position of his artillery overlooking the bridge, enabled him to do. He might have driven back Shields's co-operative advance in the meadows beneath, by a storm of shells, while he assailed liis partner three miles away; and Shields might have beguiled the day, by looking helplessly over at the smoke surging up over the tree-taps, and listening to the thunder of the battle rolling back to Harrisonburg with Fremont's defeat; or, by reckoning when his own time would come, if that better pleased him. Shall Jackson, then, strike Fremont fir-st? "^Yes," said Ewell: ''Strike the larger game Urst." But Jackson said, "Xo. The risk is less to deal first with the weaker. In a battle with Shields, should disaster per- cliaiur befall us. we shall be near our trains, and our way of retreat; and true courage, however much prudent audacity it may venture, never boasts itself invulnerable. But if an in- auspicious attack were made on Fremont, the defeated Con- federates would have i)ehind them a deep river, to be crossed only by one narrow bridge, and a line of retreat threatened by Shields's unbroken force. Again, Shields defeated, had but one difficult and narrow line of retreat, between the Hood and the mountain, and might be probably destw»yed. Fremont, if defeated, had an open country and many roads by which to re- tire; and could not be far pursued, with Shields's force still un- broken threatening our rear." Thus argued Jaclcson, but only to himself, then; he was wont to give no account of his meas- ures to others. Shall Jackson, then, pre})are to deal with his weaker adver- sary, by withdiawing all his arms to the Southern side, burn- ing the bridge behind him. and iluis leaving Fremont an idle spectator of Shields's overthrow? Again, Xo; and for two rea- sons: First, this would permit Fremont to crown all those dominating heights on the north side, with his artillery, so that Shields, though still sejiarated from his friends by the water, miglit enjoy the etfectual shelter of their guns. And second, supposing Shields dealt with satisfactorily, then it might be STONEWALL JACKSON. 161 desired to pay the same polite attentions to Fremont; and Jack- son meant not to de[>rive himself t:)o soon of the means of ac- cess to him. Shields, then, shall be tirst attended to, on the south side; but yet the bridge not destroyed, nor the heights be- yond surrendered. Paper No. 2. (Conclusion. This ])Ian, then, is clear even to the civic apiii'ehcnsion, as ottering fewest risks and largest ])r()mise — in a word, the per- fection of sagacity; and witli s) many men in gray as might matcli two-fold numbers of enemies (odds ratlier favorable, if not light and trivial, compared with the customary), it seems to promise safely. Perhaps some may even say that these reason- ings are clear and just, even too much so to imply peculiar genius in Jackson. Remember, friend, Columbus and his egg. Jackson's performance hath illustrated this problem for you, made it all plain, which to him was all novel, urgent, and to have its right soluti:)n by him alone invented, then and there, under pressure of dire responsibility and penalty :)f portentious ruin and numifold destruction. Tlipse, friend, thou wouhlst not have found propitious or helpful for clear meditation and judg- ment the night of that 7th of June. Jielieve me, the pi-oblem did not then seem easy, or even soluble to us, as men whispered by the watch-fires, with bated brt^ath: "Jackson is surrounded.'' Our eyes, then beclouded witli appiehtmsion, confused, saw no light; but he, clear-eyed and s('i-en(\ with genius braced by his steadfast heart and devout faith, saw all possibilities, and whence deliverance might dawn out of seeming darkness. And these two chiefest ti-aits of greatness I recognized in Jackson through these transactions: First, that urgent and critical peril did not agitate nor confuse his reason, nor make him hang vacillating, uneasy and impotent to decide between the alterna- tives, but only nerved and steadied his faculties; that he ever thought best where other men could least think. Second, that he knew how to distinguish the decisive [wints from the un- essential, and, grasping tlutse with ircm strength, to form from tliem an iutlexihle conclusion. 162 STONEWALL JACKSON. Events, then, had showed Jacksoii these things by the close of Saturday, June the 7th. Why did he delay to strike this time, so unlike his wont? The 8th was ''the Sabbath of the Lord," which he would fain honor always, if the wicked would let him. Not by him should the sanctity and repose of that bright, calm Sabbath be broken. When I went to him early, saying, "I suppose, General, divine service is out of the question to-day?" his reply was, "Oh, by no means; I hope you will preach in the Stonewall Brigade, and I shall attend myself — that is, if we are not disturbed by the enemy." Thus I retired, to doflf the gray for the time and don the parson's black. But those enemies cherished no such reverence. As at the first Manassas, and so many other pitched battles, they selected the holy day for an unholy deed. They supposed that the toils were closed again around the prey, and w^ere eager to win the spoils before they escaped them. Shields, then, imoves first to strike Jackson's rear, a detachment of cavalry, v^ith two cannon in front, who sweep away the pickets witli a sudden rush, dash pell-mell across the lesser river, into the street, almost as soon as the fugitives who would tell their coming. Then is there at headquarters mad haste, Jackson leaping into the saddle and galloping (the pass even now scarcely open) for the bridge and his army; Statf fiollowing as they may; one and another too late (as Colonel Crutchfield, our Chief of Artillery), and captured in mid street; a few yet, more too late, and wholly unable to fol- low; I, of course, again doffing the black to don the gray, among these last. Right briskly did those invaders (bold, quick men, for Yankees), occupy the village, plant cannon at each end of it, spy out Jackson's trains, and begin to reach forth the hand to grasp them, while we, cut off and almost powerless, make such resistance as we may. Haste thee. Master Sliields. "What thou doest do quickly!" forNEMESisis coming, and thy time is short — too short, alas! for Shields, for mortal man; for lo! yonder, one hath clattered through the bridge, and bounding up the heights where the forces lay, pressed his steed with burning spurs, Ills visage all aglow and blue eye blazing, and shouts: "Beat the Long Roll!" Drums roll with palpitating throb; men spring to the ranks, cannoneers harness; and ere Shields can brush away the flimsy obstacles between him and the trains, al- ready Jackson conies streaming back with Poague's battery and STONEWALL JACKSON. 163 Fulkersou's tall riflemen — streamiii; Torrent. There is one crash of thunder, n\e rin^iu<;- vollev, one wild yell; the bayonets gleam througli the shadowy cavern of the bridge, and the thing is done. Hostile cannon lie disabled, horses weltering around them in blood; intruders flee pell-mell, splashing through the stream, whither they came; while Jack- son stands alone, aver on the green hillside, still, calm, and rev- erent, his hand lifted in prayer and thanksgiving that the village is won again. But it is only for a moment, for he knows what more remains to be done. He remounrs the heights, and there, sure enough, is Shields's army advancing up rlic meadows from Lewiston, ranks dressed, banners flying, in all the bravery of their pamp. Jackson utters a few quiet words, and Poague a guns, reinforced by others, remove to the next hill, depress their grim muzzles, and rain down an iron storm across the river, which lashes Shields back to his covert. Jackson trusted Providences and here Providence took care of him in a most timely way. Our Colonel Crutchfield, detained amidst his captors in the village street, shall tell how the inter- vention looked from his point of view. The cavalry Colonel com- manding Shields's advance had only just disarmed him, when a Yankee vidette, wha had ventured a little up the Staunton Road, came hurrying back, his eyes glaring with elation, and ex- claimed: "Colonel Carrell! you have as good as got Jackson's trains; they are right above here, in sight; I have seen thous- ands of the white wagon-covers shining! You have nothing to da but ride forward and take them'." "Yes!" avouched Crutch- field's despairing thought, "he has them! There are no train- guards, and those white sheets, as I wofully know, are the cov- ers of my ordnance-train, c antaining all tlie artillery ammuni- tion and most of the other for the whole army. Colonel Carrell may not remain heie permanently, but nathing can prevent his riding thither and doing irreparable mischief before Jackson's return." Such was also the Yankee's thought, for he immediately or- dered a strong squadron of his cavalry to go uj) and cajiture those trains. So the horsemen formed in c »lumn and advanced up the street, leaving Colonel Crutchfield in silent des[tair. liut near the head of that street they were met by a discharge of can- ister at close quarters. The balls came ricocheting down the 164 STONEWALL JACKSON. road amidst tlie liorses" lejis, and back caiue the coluiim in head long tiight, with a tempest of dust. Said Crutchfield's thoughts to him: "Did those cannons drop from the slcies? Did the an- gels fire them? I tliought I was artillery-chief to that army, and had posted all the guns, and I thought I knew tliat there was no artillery there." Kut none the less did the mystenous guns hold their post, despite the cannonading of the Yankee batteryaccom- panj'ing their advance; and whenever the attacking column of cavalry was advanced, lash it back to the side-alleys with canis- ter-shot until Jackson re-occupied the village. The explanation was that there was a new battery, that of Captain Carrington, of Albemarle, just arrived, which Colonel Crutchfield had found so partially equipped and so absolutely unskilled, that he had relegated it with the baggage, and thus had actually discounted it in his mind as anything more tlian baggage. Two guns of this battery had been brought forward, with fragments of the fleeing Confederate pickets for supports, and with that audacity which, as Jackson taught, was on some occasions the most timely discretion, had made its little fight and saved the trains. But now the cannonade answers back from Cross-Keys, where Fremont crowds upon Ewell, endeavoring to keep his part of the rendezvous. How the fight raged there through the day, while Jackson vibrated thither and back, watchful of all points, I need not detain you to relate; for your history-books may tell you all this, as also how Ewell hurled back his adver- sary, and held his own stoutly at all points. One little thing I may relate, not flattering to myself, which may be to you a reve- lation of Jackson's mind, (and may also be taken as an example of the scant encouragement which suggestions from subordin- ates usually met). As he sat upon his horse, scanning the re- gion whither Shields had retired, I moved to his side and asked: ''There is, then, a general action at Cross-Keys?" The answer was an affirmative nod. "Then General Shields will not be blind to the impin-tance of his co-operating in it; he will sure- ly attack you again to-day?" Hereupon he turned upon me. as though vexed with my obtuseness, with brows knit, and waving his clenched fist towards the commanding positions of the artil- lerv near him. said: "No. sir; he cannot do it, sir. I should tear Mm to pieces!" And Shields did not do it, because he could not! STONEWALL JACKSON. 165 The two Yankee Generals have now had their forwardness a little rebuked; are taught to keep their places quietly until they are wanted. The Sabbath-eve has descended as calmly as though no blood or crime had polluted it, and Jackson has rest- ed until the mid-night hour ushers in the working day with a waning moon. He then addresses himself t'o his work and takes the aggressive. The trains are sent over to Powell to carry rations to his hungry men and to replenish the guns with their horrid food; a foot bridge is prepared for the infantry over South river, by which they may be passed towards Lewiston. Ewell is directed to creep away at daybreak, from Fremont's front, leaving only a skirmish line to amuse him, and to concen- trate against Shields. Colonel Pattou, one of the two com- manders wIdo are to lead this line, is sent for to receive his per- sonal instructions from Jackson. "I found him," says Colonel Patton, "in the small hours of the night, erect, and elate with animation and pleasure. He began by saying: 'I am going to fight. Yes, we shall engage Shields this morning at sunrise. Now, I wish you to throw out all yjur men before Fremont as skirmishers, and to make a great show, so as to cause the enemy to think the whole army are behind you. Hold your position as well as you can; then fall back when obliged; take a new po- sition; hold it in the same way, and I will be back to join you in the morning.' " Colonel Patton ren)inded him that his brigade was small, and that the countiy between Cross-Keys and the Shenandoah afforded few natural advantages for protecting such manoeuvres. He therefore desired to ku'ow for how long a time he would be expected to hold Fremont in check. He re- plied: '"By the blessing of Providence, I hope to ibe back by ten o'clock.'" Here then we have the disclosure of his real plan to which he makes no reference in his own otficial report. He proposed to finish with Shields, peradveuture to finish Shields, by ten o'clock. P^ive hours should be enough to settle^« accdunt, and he would then go straight back to see after P^remont. \\y ten o'clock of the same day he would meet his retreating skirmish lin(^ north of the river, arrest the retrograde UKtvenu-nt and be ready, if Fremont had stomach for it, to tight a second pitched battle with his army, more than double the one vanquished in the morning. As to the measure of Shield's disaster, it was to 166 STONEWALL JACKSON. be complete; dispersion and caprure of his whole force, with all his material. As Napoleon curtly said at the battle of Rivoli, concerning the Austrian division detached around the mounrain to beset his rear: "//j- sont a nous;" so it seems had Jackson decreed of Shields's men: "They belong to us." This the whole disposition of his battle clearly discloses. I hare described to you the position which Shields had assumed at Lewiston, with his line stretching from the forest to the river. Behind him were a few more smooth and open fields; and then the wilder- ness closed in to the river, tangled and trackless, overlooking the position of the Federal line in height, and ali)wing but one narrow track to the rear. It was a true funnel — almost a cul de sac. These then, were Jackson's dispositions. (General Kich- ard Taylor, with his Louisiana Itrigade. accompanied by a bat- tery of artillery, was to jdunge into the woods by th )se tortuous tracks which I have mentioned, to creep through the labyrinths, avoiding all disturbance of the enemy, until he had passed clear beyond his left, was to enfilade his short and crowded line, was to find position for his battery on some commanding hillock at the edge of the copsewood, and w^as to control the narrow road which offered the only line of retreat. The Stonewall brigade was to amuse the enemy meantime, in fruit, until these fatal adjustments were made, when the main weight of the army should crowd upon them, and the}' should be driven back upon the impassible river, hemmed in from their retreat, cannonaded from superior positions, ground, in short, between the uj/per and nether millstones, dissipated and captured. This was the moraing's meal with which Jacks in would break his fast. Then, for his afternoon work, he designed to re-occupy his formidable position in front of Fremont upon the north of the river, and either fight and win another battle the same day, or postpone the coup de grace to his second adversaiy until the next morn- ing, as circumstances might dictate. Such was the splendid audacity of Jackson's real design. Only a part of it was accomplished; you may infer that only a part of it was feasible, and tliat the design was too audacious to be all realized. I do not think so; only two trivial circum- stances prevented the actual realization of the whole. When the main weight of the Confederate army was thrown against Shields he was crushed (though not captured) in the space of STOTSTEWALL JACKSON. 167 two hours. Again, Fremont had been, on the previous day, so rou^i^hly handled by Ewell, with six thousand men, that he did not venture even to feel the Confederate positron, guarded real- ly only by a skirmish line, until ten o'clock the next day, and such was his ovrn apprehension of his weakness, that as soon as he learned Shields's disaster definitely, he retreated with haste, even though there was now no bridge by which Jackson might reach him. Why then a performance so short of the magnifi- cent conception? The answer was in two little circumstances. The guide who thought he knew the paths by which to lead Gen- eral Taylor to the enemy's rear (a professional offlcer of the en- gineers) did not know; he became confused in the labyrinth; he led out the head of the column unexpectedly in front of instead of bej'ond their left, and General Taylor concluded he had no choice but to hold his ground and precipitate the attack. That was blunder first; a little one seemingly, but pregnant with dis- appointment. And here let me remark upon a mischievous specimen of red-tapeism, which I saw often practiced to our det- riment, even sometimes by Jackson, who was least bound by professional trammels. It was the employing of engineer offi- cers, with their pocket compasses and ijretty, red and blue cray- on, hypotlietical maps, as country guides; instead of the men of the vicinage witli local knowledge. Far better would it have been for Jackson had he now inquired among Ashby's troopers for the boy who had hunted foxes and rabbits through the coppices around Lewiston. Him should he have set to guide Taylor's brigade to the enemy's rear, with a Captain's com- mission before him if he guided it to victory, and a pistol's muzzle behind his left ear in case he i)layed false. The other blunder was, in appearance, even more trivial: The footbridge, constructed 'by moonlight, and designed to pass four men abreast, proved at one point so unsteady' that only a single plank of it could be safely used. Tlius, what was designed to be a mas^^ive column was reduced from that point onward to a straggling ''Indian file." Instead of passing over the infanti'y in the early morning, we were still urging them forward when the appointed ten o'clock had come and gone, and the first attack on Shields, made with forces wholly in- adequate, had met with a bloody repulse. Jackson, burning with eagerness, had flown to the frcmt as soon as the Stone- 168 STONEWALL JACKSON. wall bi'ijiade was passed over, leaviii<>;- to nie a strict iiijmicti(»n to lemaiu at the bridge and expedite the crossing of the oth- er troops. First the returning trains, mingled in almost inex- tricable confusion with the marching column, was to be disen- tangled, amidsr iiinch wrong-headedness of little Q. M.'s swollen with a mite of brief authority. This effectually done; the defect of the bridge disclosed itself. Can it not be speed- ily remedied? No; not wirhour a total arrest of the living stream, which none dared to order. Then began I to suggest, to advise, to urge, that the bridge be disused wholly and that the men take to the water en masse (kindly June waterj. For altlijugh it was Jackson's wont to enlighten none as to his plans; yet even my inexperienced ear was taught by the can- non thundering at Lewiston, that we should all have been, ere this,, there; not pothering /i(jr<;, in straggling Indian tile, ^^'ell did I know how Jackson's soul at that hcjur would avDUch that word of Xai)oleon: ''Ask me for anything but tinie^'' But no: "Generals had their orders: to march by the bridge." "They would usurp no discretion." I'unctilious obedient men they! "keeping the word of ])r()mise to the ears, but breaking it to the sense." ^^'ell. in such fashion was the golden opporttmity lost; and Jackson, at uiid-day. instead of returning victorious to confront Fremont, must send word to his skirmisli line, to come aw^ay and ]»nni the bridge l)eliind them, while he rein- forces liis battle against Shields and crushes down his stubborn (yea right gallant) resistance, with stern decision. Thus he must content himself with one vict(u-y instead of two, and in that one, chase his enemy away like a baffled wolf instead of ensnaring him wiiolly and drawing his fangs. Who can hear this story of victory thus organized and al- most within the grasp — victory wliich should have been more splendid than Marengo — so shorn of half its rays, without feel- ing a pungent, burning, sympathetic disappointment"? Did not such a will as Jacks(m's then surge like a volcano at this de- fault? No. There was no fury chafing against the miscarriage, no discontent, uo rebuke. Calm and contented, Jackson rode back from the i»ui-suit and devoted himself to the care of the wounded and to prudent precautions for protectioii. '"God did it.'''' That was his philosophy. There is an omniscient Mind which purposes, an ever present Providence which superin- STONEWALL JACKSON. 169 tends; so that when rlie eveut has finally disclosed his will, the iijod man has fonnd onr what is best. He did not know it before, and therefoie he followed, with all his might, the best lights of his own inipeifect reason; but now that (lad has told him. by the issne, it is his part to stndy aeqniesrenc-e — Such was "Stonewall Jackson's way." This, my friends, is a bright dream, but it is passed awa.y. Jackson is gone, and the cause is gone. All the victories which he won are lost again. The penalty we pay for tlie pleasure of the dream is the pain jf the awakening. I profess unto von tliat one of the most consoling thoughts which remain to me amidst the waking realties of the ijresent, is this: that Jack- son and other spirits like him are spared the defeat. I find that many minds sympathize with me in the species of awful curiosity to know what Jackson would Itave d.ine at our final surrender. It is a strange, a startling conjunction of thoughts: Jackson, with his giant will, his unblenching faith, his heroic devotion, face to face, after all, with the lost cause! What would he have djne? This questiiui has been often asked me, and my answer has always been: In no event could Jackson have survived to see the cause lost. What, you say: would he have been guilty of suicide? Would he. in the last-lost- battle, have sacrificed him.self upon his country's funeral pyre? Xo. But I believe that as his clear eye saw the approaching catastrophe, his faithful zeal wjuld have spurred liini to strive ao devotedly to avert it that he would either have overwrought his powers or met his death in generous forgetfulness (not in intentional desperation) on the foremjst edge of the battle. Forhiin there wasdestined to be no subjugationi The (rod whom he served .so well was too gracious to his favorite S3n. Less faithful servants, like us. may need this bitter scourge. He was nu^eter for his reward. Yes, there is solid cousolalion in tlie thought: -lackson is dead. Does it seem sometinu's as we stand beside the little ffreen m:)und at the Lexington graveyard, a right pitiful thing, that here, beneatli these few feet of turf, garnished with no memorial but a faded wreath (faded like the cause he loved) and the modest little stone i)laced there by the treuibling hand of a weeping woman (only hand generous and brave enough 170 STOXEWALL JACKSON. even to rear a stoue to Jackson in all the broad land baptized bj his heart's bhiod). that there lips all this woi-ld eonraius of that great glory. That this pure devotion, this niatehless cour- age, this towering genius are all clean gone forever out of this earth; gone amidst the utter wreck of the beloved cause which inspiied them. Ah. but it was more pitiful to see a Lee bear- ing his proud, sad head above that s^d, surrounded by the skeleton of that wreck, head stately as of old. yet bleached prematurely by irremediable sorrow, with that eye revealing its measureless depths of grief even beneath its patient smile. More pitiful to see the great heart break with an anguish which it would not stoop to utter, because it must beh;ild its coun- try's death, and was forbidden of God to die before it. But pitifulest of all is the sight of those former comrades of Jack- SJn and Lee. who are willing to live and to be basely consoled with the lures of the ojtpressor. and who thus survive not only tlieir country, but their own manhood. Yes. beside that sight the grave of Jackson is luminous with joy. I well remember the only time when I saw him admit a DroguDstic of final defeat. It was a Sabbath day of May, 1862, as bright and calm as that wliich ushered in the battle of Port "Rt^public. We were riding alone, slowly, to a religious service in a distant camp, and communing of our cause, not then as superior with inferior, but as friend witli fi-iend. I disclosed to Jackson the grounds of tlie a]»])rehensions which I always harbored in secret, but which I made it my duty to conceal, after the strife was once unavoidable, from every mortal save hitii. He defended his more cheei-ful hojies. He urged the sur- prising success of the Confederate goveinment in organizing armies and acquiring material of war in the face of an adver- sary who would have been deemed overwhelming, and espec- ially the goodness of Divine Providence in giving us. so far. so many deliverances. I re-asserted my apprehensions with a pertinacity which was. perhaps, uncivil. I pointed out that the people were not rising as a whole to the height of the ter- rible crisis. That while the minority (all honor to them) were nobly sacrificing themselves in the breach, others were venal and selfish, eager to depute to hii-eling substitutes the glor- ious privilege of defending their own homes and rights, and tu make a sordid traffic out af the necessities of the glorious STONEWALL JACKSON. 171 martyrs who were at the front dyiii};' for them. Tliat it was at least questionable whether such men were not predestined slaves. That the government was manifestly unequal to the arduous enterprise and entangled in the plodding precedent.? of dull mediocrity, instead of rising to the exertion i>f lofty genius and heroism. Witness, for instance, the deplorable mili- tary policy which left our first critical victory without fruits; a blunder wliich no government would be allowed by a right- eous Providence to repeat often, with impunity; because it is as truly a law of God's administi'ation, as of his grace, which is expressed in the fearful question: "How can ye escape who neglect so great salvation?" That neither government nor people seemed awake to the absolute necessity of striking quickly in a revolutionary war like ours; l)ut they were settling down to a regular, protracted contest, in wliich the machinery of professional warfare would gradually, but sureh', abolish that superiority- of the Southern citizen-soldier over the Yankee mercenary, which the honor and courage of the former gave him while both were undrilled; a routine- war in which we should measure our limited resources against their unlimited ones, instead of measuring ijatrioric gallantry against slug- gishness. That the final issue of such a struggle must be the exhaustion of our means of resistance by gradual attrition, which would render all our victories unavailing. At length, as I enlarged upon the points, Jackson turned himself upon his saddle towards me and said, with a smile which yet had a serious meaning in it: "Stop, Major Dabney; you will make me low-spirited!" He then rode in silence for some moments, and said as though to himself: "T don't profess any romantic indifference to life; and certainly, in my own private relations, I have as much that is dear to wish to live for, as any man. Bnt I do not desire to survive the independence of my country.'' These words were uttered with a profound, pensive earnest- ness, which eft'ectually ended the debate. Jackson prayed for the independence of his country; or, if that might not be. he desired not to survive its overthrow. (xod could not grant the former, for reasons to be seen anon, wherefore he granted the latter. The man died at the right time. He served the purpose of the Divine Wisdom in his generation. He went upward and onward upon the ftood-tide 172 STOiNJiWALL JACKSON. (;t' his fume aud <:^i-earue.ss. uutil it i-caclied its vei-y acme; and tlieuce lie weut up to liis rest. After that ca.iiie the ebb-tide, the stranding-, aud the wreck. This, surely, is a siuj;ular mark of Heaven's favoi-. lifting him almost to the rank of that ante- diluvian hero "wlio walked with God. and he was n^t; for God took him.*' When his fame and success were at their zenith, never yet blighted by disaster; when the cause he loved better than life was most hopeful; wlien ht- liad just performed his most brilliant exploit, and cuuld lea\e his counti-y all jubilant with his j)raise. aud glowing witli gratitude for his deliver- ance; before the coming wje had iiroj(^cted upon his spirit even the fringe of that sliadow whidi wonhl liave ])een to him cold- er than death — that was the time fdi- Jackson to be translated. The otlu'r thing, which alone would liave been better — to lead his counti-y on fi-oni triumph t t triumiih to final deliver- ance— to hang up his sword in the sanctuary, and to sit down a freeman amidst the people he had saved — fhat we would not permit God to effect; and that we were not tit to liave such deliverance wrought for us. even by a Jackson, this God would demonstrate before he took him away; for tlie true great man is a gift from lieaven. informed with a portion of its own life and tire. Some small critics liave argued that gi-eat men are born in their times; that tlu^y are mere impers (nations of the moral forces common to their contemporaries. This, be assured, may be true of that species of little great men. of whom Shakespeare writes, that "they liave greatnes.s thrust on rliem." The true hero is not made by his times, but makes f/iem, if indeed nial(M-ial of greatness he in tlieiii. They wait for him, in s )re need, perhaps, of his kindling touch, groping in P'erilous darkness towards destruction, for want of his true light: they produce him not. God sends him. There be three missions for such a true great man among men. If "the in- i(iuity of the Amorites is already full."" the Great Power, the wicked great man. Caesar or Xapoh^ »n. is sent among them to seduce them to their ruin. If they be wortliy of greatness, and have in them any true substance to be kindled by the heroic fire, the good hero, your Moses or Washington, shall be sent unto them for deliverance. If it be not yet manifest t :> men whether the times be the one or the other. Amoritish. utterly reprobate, and fit only for anarchy or slavery, or else with STONEWALL JACKSON. 173 seed of nobleness in them, and capable of true glory (though to Him who commissions the hero there be no mystery nor contin- gency wliich is not manifest), then will he send one, or perad- venture several, wlio shall be touchstones to that people, to "try them so as ])y tire,'' whether there be worth in them or no. And then shall this Ood-sent man show forth an exem- ])lar to his pe;i]»l('. whidi shall be unto them a test, whether th.ey, having eyes, see, or see not the true glory and right, and whether they have hearts to understand and love it. And then shall he bring nigh deliverances unto them, full of prom- ise and hope, 3'et mutable, which are (xod's overtures saving unto them: "Come now and let us reason togetliei-. If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of tlie land; but if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." Will ye, or will ye not? Thus was Jackson God's interrogatory ro this people, saying to them: ''Will ye be like him, and be saved? Lo, there! AYhat would a nation of Jacksons be? That may ye be! How righteousness exalteth a people! Shall this judg- ment and righteousness 'be the stability of thy times, O Con- federate, and strength of thy salvation?'" And these mighty deliverances at .^lanassas, AMncliester. I'oi-t Kepublic. Chick- ahominy. Fredericksburg. Chancellorsville, were they not mani- fest overtures to us to have the (xod of Jackson and Lee for our God, and be sav«^d? ''Here is the path; walk ye in it." And what said our ])e()ple? Many honestly answered. "Yea, Lord, we will"; of whom the larger part walked whither Jackson did, and now lie with him in gloiy. lint another part answered, "Nay," and they live. :)n sudi terms as we see, even s'lch as they elected. To them, also, it was plain that Jack- son's ti'uth and justice and devotion to duty wei-e the things that made him great and unconquerable. Kven the wicked avouched this. Therefore a nation of sucli like men must needs be uncon(|uerable and free, liut they would not be free on such terms. Nay; they preferi-ed I'ather to walk after their own vanities. Verily tliey huve their reward! Let tlie c)ntras! appear in two ]»oints. -lackson writes thus to his wife: "You had better not sell your coupons from the" (Gonfed crate) "bonds, as I undcM'stand tliey ar(» paid in gold; but let the Confederacy keep the gold. Citizens should not receive a cenrof gold from the government when it is so scarce." 174 STONEWALL JACKSON. Set over agaiust this the spectacle of almost the mauy, ex- cept the soldiers, gone mad at the enhancement of prices with s])ecu]ation and extortion, greedj' to rake together paper money, mere rags and trash, while such as Jackson were pour- ing out money and blood in the death grapple for them. Take arofher: He writes to his wife, Christmas, 1862, in answer to the inquiry whether he could not visit her, and see the child upon whicli he liad never lojked, while the army was in winter- quarters: "It appears to me that it is better for me to remain with my command so long as the war continues, if our ever-gracious Heavenly Father permits. The army suffers immensel}- by absentees. If all our troops, officers and men, were at their posts, we might, through God's blessing, expect a more speedy termination of the war. The temporal affairs of same are so de- ranged as to make a strong plea for their returning home for a short time; but our Grod has greath' blessed me and mine dur- ing my absence; and whilst it would be a great comfort to see you, and my darling little daughter, and others in whom I take special interest, yet duty apjiears to require me to remain with my command. It is most important that those at headquarters set an example by remaining at the post of duty." Look now from this picture of steadfastness in duty to the multitudes of absentees and of stalwart young men shirking the army by every slippery expedient. So these answered back to God's overture: "Mammon is dearer than manhood, and in- glorious ease than liberty." The disclosure was now made that this people could not righteously be free, was not fit for it, and that God was just. Jackson could now go home to his rest. He in the haven, the ebb-tide might begin; he safely housed, the storm of adversity might burst. The thing to be most painfully pondered then, by this peo- ple, is: Whether the fate of Jackson, and such like, is not proof that we have been weighed in the balances and found wanting? How readeth the handwriting on the wall? Not hopefully, in verity of truth, if Truth, which heroes worship, be indeed eternal, and be destined to assert herself ever. Jack- son, alas, lies low, under the little hillock in Lexington grave- yard, and Lee frets out his great heart-strings at tliis world- wide vision of falsehood and vile lucre, cruel as sordid, trium- STONEWALL JACKSON. 175 phaut, iinwliipped of justice; while tlie men who i-ide prosper- ously are they who sell themselves to work iniquity, and who say "Evil, be thou my goad." Yea, these are the men whom the people delighteth to honor; to wliom ihr clnirches and min- isters of God in this land bow down, juorlaiming: "Verily suc- cess is divine; and Might it maketli right; and the Tower of this world, it shall be God unto us." And while the grave of heroic Truth and virtue has no other memento than the humble stone placed there by a feeble woman's hand, pompous monu- ments of successful wrong affront the skies with their altitude, ''calling evil good and goad evil, and putting darkness for light and light for darkness." We fear that when Truth shall re-as- sert herself it will go ill with this generation. THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. Dr. L. R. Dickinson, Editor Planter and Farmer. — Dear Sir: I have read the essays of "Civis" in your December, Jan- n;iry and February numbers with profound interest, and with general approbatian. Concurring fully with him in the oppo- sition to the whole theory of primary education by the State, I also feel the force of his views concerning the negro and the common school. For some year;? I have had strong convic- lions of the falsehood and deadly tendencies of the the Yankee theory of popular State education; and I confess that the in- IhuMii-e which prevented my lifting up my voice against it was, simpl}-, the belief that so puny a voice could etfect nothing against the prevalent "craze" whicli has infected the country on this subject. You may conceive, therefore, the satisfaction with which I saw ''Civis'' take up the cause of truth in the col- umns of \\\^ Eeligious Herald, and subsequently in the Planter and Farmer, and my admiration for his moral courage, elo- quence and invincible logic. With such champions, the cause of truth is not so hopeless as I feared. ^Vith equal satisfaction I have seen the Kev. Dr. John Miller, long an honored citizen of Virginia, and a gallant soldier in her arni}^ arguing the same truth in the Tribune, with even more tlian his wonted terse- ness, boldness and condensed logic There is another sign that the cause of truth is not wholly lost: this is the new zeal of the self-constituted protectors of this Yankee heresy in Virginia, in circulating arguments and pleas for their error. These docu- ments have had no other etfect on my mind than to awaken the wish that, if we must, perforce, have this false system imposed on us by our conquerors, any executive agency, created to ad- minister the ill-starred plan, might at least have the modesty to stick to its appointed business, and not waste the money of the people in the attempt to manufacture among the people an er- roneous public opinion. It is enough to be taxed heavily, against my judgment, for a quixotic project, which can never 176 tM;te NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 177 do iiie or any one else any ^ood. I am unju.-i;tly forceJ to su;-- render my money; but I beg leave to preserve the privilege of doing my own tliinking. At least, I do not propose docilely to receive mj^ opinions on it from those, who, in advocating the system, are also advocating their own official emoluments. While speaking of the general subject, I am tempted to notice a recent argument which is tiaunted before us: this is, the rapidly increasing popularity, which, it is claimed, the plan is winning at the South. The reply is, that if this popularity is growing, it exactly confirms the argument of "Civis," that the system is agrarian, corrupting, subsidizing the people and de- bauching their independence. Imperial donatives to the Roman populace became very popular; true, but they poisoned the last good element of Roman character, and helped to complete the putrescence of the empire. I fear it is only too true, that this cunning cheat of Yankee state-craft ti alluring the poor, har- assed Southern parent; and that he is yielding to the bait, which promises deceitfully to relieve him of his parental re- sponsibility. A bribe, alas, may become easily popular in de- cadent times. But, you asked for my opinion of this fearful question of the negro in our common schools. It is not necessary for me to repeat the points so strongly put hy'Civis.'"' To one of them onl}', I would add my voice: the unrighteousness of expending vast sums, wrung by a grinding taxation from our oppressed people, upon a pretended education of freed slaves; when the State can neither pay its debts, nor attend to its own legitimate interests. Law and common lionesty botli endorse the maxim: "A man must be just before he is generous." The action of the State, in wasting this money thus, which is due to her creditors, is as inexcusable as it is fantastical. I do know that not a few of our white brethren, before the war, independent and intelli- gent, are now prevented from educating their own children, be- cause they are compelled to keep them in the corn-field, labor- ing from year's end to year's end, to raise these taxes to give a pretended education to the brats of the black paupers, who are loafing around their plantations, stealing a part of the scanty crops and stock their poor, struggling boys are able to raise. Not seldom has this pitiful sight nmde my blood boil with in- dignation, and then made my heart bleed with the thought: 178 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. "How mournfully complete is that subjugation, which has made men, who were once Virginians, submit tamely to this burning wrong?" "The offense is rank, and smells to Heaven." Thank Grod, that I have only to pay, and have nothing to do with the imposition, collection and disbursement of this shameful exac- tion. The argument by which they endeavor to reconcile us to it is always this: "Negro suffrage is a fixed fact; Virginians cannot help it; and if the negro is to share in governing the State, our interest is to qualify him for doing so, by educating him." To this argument many well-meaning men reluctantly yield. My first remark upon it is : That I am not at all clear, that candor, or truth, or self-respect will allow any Virginian thus to accept the impossible onus, which conquest seeks to impose on us. Radicalism thrusts upon us this fatal innova- tion of negro suffrage; and then requires of us a promise that we will undertake to makf it work safely and beneficently. 1 beg leave to demur from making any such promise. I do not tnean to divide with the conqueror the ofius of his ruthless and murderous crime against liberty and civilization. He has com- mitted it; let him bear its responsibility. If it is not undone, it will destroy both American liberty and civilization. If I could prevent that result, I would; and if I believed that I could, 1 would promise to try. But, knowing that I cannot prevent that result, and that no human power can, unless the crime be re- tracted, I do not mean to make a deceitful promise, or to divide the damning responsibility of the crime with its perpetrators. If I saw a ruthless quack proposing to divide a man's carotid artery, in a mad surgical experiment, and he should ask me to promise to tie it up, so as to remedy the murder he was com- mitting, I should tell him that, however anxious to save the life of his victim, I was not able to do it by tying up a carotid ar- tery, and could not promise. If he persevered in murdering the man, he must bear the guilt alone. For, second: the pretended education which Virginia is now giving, at so heavy a cost, to the negroes, is, as a remedy for negro suffrage, utterly deceptive, farcical and dishonest. The tenor of the argument concedes, what every man, not a fool, knows to be true: that the negroes, as a 'body, are now glaringly unfit for the privilege of voting. What makes them 'tttE NKGkO Aisrb TilE 60MkON SCHOOL. tV§ unlit? kSiuIi things as these: The inexorable barrier of alien race, color, and natural character, between them and that other race which constitutes the bulk of Americans: a dense ignor- ance of the rights; and duties of citizenship: an almost universal lack of that share in the property of the country, which alone can <4ve responsibility, jjatriotic interest and independence to the voter: a general moral grade so deplorably low as to per- mit their being driven or bought like a herd of sheep by the demagogue: a parasitical servility and dependency of nature, which characterizes the race everywhere, and in all ages: an al- most total lack of real persevering aspirations: and last, an obstinate set of false traditions, which bind him as a mere serf to a party, which is the born enemy of every righteous interest of our State. Let the reader look at that list of ailments. Not an item can ))e disputed. Now. our political quacks propose to cure them, and that in such time as will save the Commonwealth before the infection becomes mortal. And liov\'? V>y such an infusion of (not education, but) a modictini of the arts of read- ing, writing, and cyphering; which are at best uncertain means, only, for educating; and that, such a modicum as the kind of teachers and schoiols Virginia can now get, will infuse through the wool of such heads. Does any sane man really believe this remedy will do that vast work? Nay, verily, "Leviathan is not so tamed." Or, to return to the former trope, we may use the exclamation of John Randolph against a weak book, which was proposed to him, as an antidote for the malignant ability of Bolingbroke's infidelity. "Venice treacle, and syrup, against ArsenicV Whether this remedy will save us, may be settled by an argument of fact, unanswerable to every patriotic Vir- ginian. The Yankees have had this "nostrum" of free school education, in fnll force, for two genei-ations. Has it reared up among them, out of white people, a jjopular mass fit to enjoy universal suffrage? Did not this very system rear us that very generation, which, in its blind ignorance and brutal passion, has recently wrecked the institutions of America; has filled our country with destitution, woe and murder; and, with a stupid blindness, only equalled by its wickedness, has stripped its own Commonwealths, in order to wreak its mad spite on ours, of the whole safeguards for their own freedom and peace? These are the /ruits of this Yankee system of State primary educa- 180 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. tiou, as working ou a white race. Will it work better ou a black race? I have not yet learned enough of that type of "intelligence" which this system seems to foster, to repudiate my Saviour's infallible maxim, "the tree is ku3wn by its fruits." The Yankee has bragged so much of his "intelligence," of his floods of books and oceans of newspapers, that some Southern people seem "dazed" by the clamor. Well; there may be "fus- siness," there may be plenty of self-conceit, and flippancy; but I stand simply and firmly 'by this impregnable fact : This sys- tem has not given the Yankee true wisdom enough to prevent his destroying the country and himself. What mere self-delu- sion is it, to dream that it will give this quality to the negro? But, third: There are causes peculiar to the negro and the South, which leave us no hope that this so-called system of free schools will produce even as much fruit as in Xew England or New York. One is the fact which "Civis" has so boldly stated: The black race is an alien one on our soil; and nothing except his amalgamation with ours, or his subordination to ours, can prevent the rise of that instinctive antipath}' of race, which, history shows, always arises between opposite races in prox- imity. Another cause is the natural indolence of the negro character, which finds precisely its desired pretext, in this pre- tended work of going to school. Still another is the universal disposition of the young negro to construe his "liberty" as meaning precisely, privilege of idleness. It was easy to see that the free school must needs produce the very result which it is usually producing, under such exceptional circumstances; not education, but discontent \sith, and unfitness for, the free negro's inevitable sphere and destiny — if he is to have any good destiny— manual labor. With such teachers, such parents as the negro parents, and such material, it was hopeless to expect any really beneficial knowledge of the literary arts to be dif- fused among this great mass of black children. The only thing the most of them really learn is a fatal confirmation in the no- tion that "freedom" means living without work, and a great enhancement of the determination to grasp that privilege. The one commanding and imperative necessity of the young negro at the end of the war, in the eyes of any sober philanthropist, was this: that he should be promptly made to learri some way to earn an honest living. The interest which the Common- THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 181 wealth had in his quickly learning this \atal lesson, was peril- ously urgent, as I shall show. Instead, then, of giving any ne- gro over five years old a pretext of any sort for evading his righteous and beneficent lot of manual labor, we should have bent every energy of statesmanship and government to the task of somehow keeping the grown negroes at their work, and mak- ing sure that the young ones w^ere taught to work. To this end nearly all the practical talent and energy should have been bent. The police administration should have been so omnipo- tent and energetic as absolutely to cut off the possibility of a negro family's subsisting by plunder — vagrancy should have been rendered impossible by stringent laws, apprenticing the loafer to an industrious citizen. The tolerance of idleness in children approaching adult age, by their parents, should have been made a misdemeanor, justifying the intervention of the magistrate. J^uch a system of stimuli, if made effective, must have been harsher than domestic slavery. I reply, yes: but in imposing it, we should be but imitating our conciuerors, who ordained that the wise, kindly, benevolent, yet efficient system of the South should give place to their more pretentious but oppressive system. We are fully justified by the rights of self- preservation, to imitate their severity. Here is a parable which expresses accurately the folly Virginia has committed. She saw a neighbor of her's, named, we will say. Smith, who was very rich, and who also had a large family of healthy children. Smith is using a part of his abundance, in sending all of his children to school. Now Virginia is not ricli, but desperately poor; and it will be "touch and go" if some of her children do not actually starve before the year is out. Moreover, Virginia's children are in so feverish, unhealthy a state, that confinement uith books is likely to have no effect, except brain-fever. But the old lady sees Smith"*; gang passing her door to school every day, ^ith envious eyes. She feels that somehow "book-larnin" is a social distinction. She hears Smith's children "chaffing" hers about their inferiority of privilege, and she can stand it no longer. So she completes her own bankruptcy to buy an outfit of "store clothcis," and school-books, and sends all her children. Luckless urchins! what they needed was wholesome food and medicine, not books and confinement. The result of this blind disregard of times and differences, and abilities, is, that about 182 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. the time famine and the sheriff are both knocking at the old lady's door, her children are sent back to her. in raging delirium from brain fever, either helpless, or rending each other in their plirensy. question fairl\- in the face? It makes me shudder — ^and the Does any one demur, that this picture is extravagant? Then, he has not begun to see the fearful peril of our situation. Indeed, I feel sure that bad as is the present state of Virginia (in consequence of the abolition measure forced upon us) far the worst is yet to come. What are we to do with this young generati(m of negroes now growing up? Have men looked that free school is one of the most tragical features in the coming drama. Let these facts be considered. This coming generation will be a numerous one. Men. like ''Civis,'' are evidently nurs- ing the secret hope that it will not; and to my mind it is one o<' the most painful evidences of the atrocity of the wrong per- petrated on Mrginia by her conquerors, that good, patriotic, philanthropic. Christian men here see the evil fruits of that crime looming up so fearfully, as actually to find a grain of pri vate consolation in the hopel that a race of human beings among us are advancing to the miseries of extermination. I do not find fault with the hape; it is natural — I shall naturally and justifiably hope that my wilful destroyer may x>e'rish before he murders me — I condenm the oppression which has left good and wise men no solace except in that hope. They scan the bills of mortality in Southern cities with a sigh of relief. Doubtless city-life is a devouring gulf for the poor freedman, but Virginia is a rural State; and in the country, the lazy freedman multi- plies, unstinted by his povei'ty. The climate is genial, the win- ter is short, the jjersimmons and blackberries span the larger part of the year; the "'old hares" are prolific; the old freedmen, once slaves, still do about half work, and produce some pro- visions; and above all, the process of eating up the white peo- ple by petty pilferings is still far from completed. So, between these various resources, country negroes manage to sustain these low conditions of existence, which enable so low a race to multiply; and they multiply on, as yet, very much as in old times. This perilous incoming generation will be a numerous one. The next fact is, thatMff neo;ro is n creature o^ Imbit, Those THE NEGUO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 188 whose characters were formed in slavery still carry with them two habits gained there; one, tliat of work (though gradually re- laxing); the other, that of loyalty and affectionate respect for "their white folks." The new generation cherishes neither. I know of only one or two, of either sex, who are engaged in any self-supporting- labor — they live on their parents, or on pilfer- ing. Does one see any of them apprenticed to any useful trade, or in the regular employment of any business man? I have with me the testimony of the planters; they tell me that, in hiring hands, they always seek middle-aged ones, who were trained in slavery; the younger are not worth hiring, if they ever offer. I have with me the testimony of the middle-aged freedmen, the fathers and mothers themselves. Their complaint is, that the "young ones have no idea of work — they do not know what real work is — what is to become of them, the Lord only knows." All who know the negro character are aware also of that infirmity of purpose which, almost universally ren- ders them inefficient parents. They are either too weak or in- dulgent, or they are brutally and capriciously severe. Hence, the usual law of negro families is, a low state of parental and filial qualities, dissatisfied parents, and insubordinate children — it was always so upon the plantations, except as the master or overseer guided and reinforced the father's rule; it is flag- rantly so now. The ugliest feature of this coming day is, that the young negroes are evidently growiuj; iij3 with a restive, surly, insolent spirit towards the whites, in place of that close family affection, feudal loyalty, and humble pi-ide in their su- periors, which once united masters and servants. How can it be otherwise? The family tie is gone forever — the "carpet bag- ger" has played his accursed game upon the negro's passions. Suffrage and the free school awaken in the young negro foolish and impossible aspirations, which are fated to disappointment, and whose disappointment he will assuredly lay to the door of his white rivals, lately his kindly protectors. One needs only to walk by the way. to see this change of temper. The ex- slave greets his former "white folks" with a smile of genuine pleasure, and with all the deference of old times. But his son and daughter pass without speech, or with a surly nod, and as- sert their independence by shouldering white children from the sidewalk. What, meantime, is the temper to which these white 184 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. young people are growing up? They also are strangers to the family feeling; they know nothing of the kindly responsibility and patronage begotten by the former dependence of the ser- vants; to them these insolent young blacks are simply stran- gers and aliens, repulsive and abhorred. The sons of the he- roes who fell at Manassas and Gettysburg are not likely to im- bibe from widowed mothers traditions which will make them very tolerant of "negro impudence." The State of Xew Jersey has emancipated her slaves re- cently enough, for men naw living to testify to the effects of the measure. The aecount that I have uniformly heard from her citizens is this: That the negroes reared in slavery continued to be useful, but that when this generation had passed away, business men ceased, as a general rule, to employ negroes in any permanent contract of labor. They were found too fickle, uncertain and indolent. Ask a New Jersey farmer to employ a negro for his permanent farm help, and he would answer with a smile at your absurdity. After a time negroes almost ceased to be seen in rural districts; they drifted into taverns, barbers' shops and other places where ''jobs" could be picked up. What right have we to flatter ourselves with a different result in Vir- ginia. Now an industrious community can endure a certain per- centage of idlers, but if it be increased too much, they poison the community. The body politic is, in this, like the natural body, a certain amount of poison in its circulation can be en- dured, and eliminated by the emunctory organs, but if the poi- son is in larger quantity, the man dies. When the generation of freed-negroes, which works feebly, has passed away, can the white people of Southside Virginia endure the pilfering of a body of negroes more numerous than themselves, who will work not at all? And when the white people are at last driven to the end of all patience by intolerable annoyances, and the blacks are determined to live and not to work, collision cannot but en- sue. What shall we do with that generation of negroes "edu- cated" to be above work? I see no other prospect, humanly speaking, except the beginning of a war of races, which will bring back the provost marshal, and the government of the bayonet, and will, indeed, make us eager to welcome them. But even if this danger is evaded, I object to this whole THE NKGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 185 scheme of State education for negroes, because, if successful, it can only result in wrono-. In every civilized country, there must be a laboring class. The idea that this universal "educa- tion," so-called, is to elevate that laboring class into a reading body, and still leave them laborers, is a vain vision. The peo- ple who are addicted to manual labor are never going to be students, as a body. It is not so in boasted Prussia, nor in boasting New England. Laborers, if taught the arts of letters in their youth, disuse them in their toiling manhood. The brain which is taxed to supply the nervous energy for a day of man- ual labor, will have none left for literary pursuits. If our civ- ilization is to continue, there must be, at the bottom of the so- cial fabric, a class who must work and not read. Now, grant that that the free school does all that its wildest boasts can claim; that it elevates the negroes out of this grade. Then the only result will be, that white people must descend into it, and occupy it. Where then is the gain? I, for one, say plainly, that I belong to the white race, and that if I must choose be- rween the two results, my philanthropy leads me to desire the I)roisperity of my own people, in preference to that of an alien race. I do not see any humanity in taking the negro out of the place for which nature has fitted him, at the cost of thrusting my own kindred down into it. No amelioration whatever is effected in the country taken as a wliole; but an unnatural crime is committed to gratify a. quixotic and unthinking v,i=0Tcliet. Again: Let us grant that free schools effect all that is claimed for the elevation of the negro; that he is actually fitted for all the dignities of the commonwealth, and for social equal- ity. Then, will he not denumd it? Of course. Here then, is my concluding ,^/7^w/«a. If these negro schools are to fail, they should be abolished without further waste. If they are to suc- ceed, they only prepare the way for that abhorred fate, amal- gamation. If the State School Board are working for any- thing, they are working for this; here is the goal of their plans. The most solemn and urgent duty now incumbent on the rulers of Virginia, is to devise measures to prevent the gradual but sure approach of this final disaster. The satanic artificers of our subjugation well knew the work which they designed to perpetrate: it is so to mingle that blood which flowed in the 186 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. veins of our Washingtona, Lees, aud Jacksons, and which con- secrated the battle iSeids ot the Confederacy, with this sordid, alien taint, that the bastard stream shall never again throb with independence enough to make a tyrant tremble. These men were taught by the instincts of their envy and malignity, but too infallibly, how the accursed work waiS to be done. They knew that political equality would prepare they way for social equality, and that, again for amalgamation. It is only our pride which hides the danger from our ejes. A friend from Virginia was conversing, in London, with an old English navy surgeon, who was intimately acquainted with the British West-India Is- lands. He assured the Virginian that the "reconstruction acts" tended directly to amalgamation, and would surely result in it if persevered in. ''Never," exclaimed my Virginia friend, ''In our case, our people's pride of race will eft'ectually protect them from that last infamy." "Had ever any people," replied the ex- surgeon, ''more pride of race than the English? Yet they are amalgamating in Jamaica. We have the teachings of forty years' experience in this matter; when your emancipation has become, like ours, forty years old, you will see." The Virginian was silenced. Even now, after ten years of the misery and shame of subjugation, one has only to open his eyes to see the crumbling awa}^ of the social barriers between the two races. The nearest and heaviest share of this curse of mixed blood will, of course, fall upon the conquered States themselves; but the revengeful mind will have the grim satisfaction of seeing the conquering States reap their sure and fearful retribution from the same cause. Eleven populous States, tainted with this poison of hybrid and corrupted blood, will be enough to com- plete the destruction of the white States to which they will be chained. The Yankee empire will then find itself, like a strong man with a cankerous limb, perishing by inches, in chronic and hideous agonies. The member which spreads its poison through the whole body can neither be healed nor amputated, all will putrify together. Is there any remedy? This is the question which will be urged, and those who think with me are listened to with dis- favor, chiefly because people do not like to be reminded of a shameful and miserable future, which they suppose to be un- avoidable; they prefer to shut their eyes and enjoy the rem- THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 187 nants of pleasures which are left them, without disturbauce. We shall be asked: Why sj)(^ak of these thiugs, unless there cau be shown a remedy? There might be a remedy, if the peoi)le and their leaders were single-minded and honest in their action as citizens. The key-note of that remedy is in ^'impartial sutt"- rage." In endeavoring to remedy the dangers of the common- wealth, we must remember that we are a conquered people, and have to obey our masters. Otherwise our straight road toack to safety would be at ouce to repeal negro-suffrage. Rut our masters will not hear of that. What is called "impartial suff- rage" is, however, permitted by their new Coustituticm. We should at ouce avail ourselves of that perniissioil, and without attempting any discriminatijn on grounds of ''race, color, or previous condition of bondage,'' establish qualifications both of property and intelligence for the privilege of voting. This would exclude the great multitude of negroes, and also a great many white men. And this last would of ilself be no little gain, for many more white men have the privilege than use it for the good of the State. Agiiiu, the very misfortunes of the time give us this advantage now, for drawing back from the ultra- radicalism of our previous legislation: that the mass of white men are now so impressed with the dishonor and mischiefs of negro suffrage, the majority of those white voters having no property, w-ould, even joyfully, surrender their privilege, tar- nished and worthless as it is, if thereby the negro could be ex- cluded. This constitutes our opportunity. To this saving ref ')rm there is just one real obstacle, and that is, the timid self-inter- est of the office-seeking class. I take it for granted that every sensible man in Vii-ginia thinks in his heart that negro suft'rage is a deplorable mistake. But many wish to be elected or ap- pointed to office. These begin to calculate, under the prompt- ings of timid selfishness: "While I should be very glad to see thi;s wholesome reform, it will not be prudent for me to ad- vocate it; because, should a movement for it, advocated by me, perchance fail, then all the classes whom that movement pro- posed to disfranchise of this useless and hurtful privilege, will be offended with me. So, when self-love desires to be elected to some place of emolument, they will remember me and vote against me. Hence, I cannot move in that reform, however desirable." This isthe real difficulty, and the only real difificulty, 188 THE NEGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. in the way of this blessed step towards salvation. If all the men who now cherish aspirations for office, could onl}- he made to act disinterestedly — to forget self, to resolve to do the right and wise thing for the Commonwealth, w^hether they were ever voted for again or not, the whole thing would be easy. There are a plenty of intelligent young men in Virginia, now without property, who would joyfully join the freeholders in voting to disfranchise themselves for this great end, to make a command- ing majority. So that the question, whether the State can be saved from this perdition, turns practically 3n this other ques- tion (as indeed the fate of Commouwealtlis always practically does), whether her people can for once act with a real honest disinterestedness. If the people and their leaders are capable of that, they can save themselves; if not capable, nothing can save them. And perhaps the verdict of posterity will be, that they were unworthy of being saved. It will be well for all to look this view of the matter fully in the face. Especially is it necessary for the farmers to see precisely where the deliverance and the obstacle to it lie. The other branch of our remedy should be to reform our school system, both for blacks and whites, back towards the system of our fathers in Virginia, just as fast as possible. I mean the system which prevailed in Virginia up to 1860. I know that all the self-constituted, pretended advocates of free education disparage^ that system as miserably partial and in- efficient. But our fathers knew what thej w^ere about, much better than was sujiposed. "Young jieaple f/iink old folks are fools, but old people kno7v that young ones are." Did that old system produce perfect results? Xo. Xo system in imperfect human hands ever produces perfect results. Did it teach every adult in the State to read and write? No. Buf neither will the new one. That is, the new system will no more be able to overcome the inexorable law, that the mass of those addicted to manual labor will not and cannot addict themselves to the literary arts, than our fathers were. And after all the fuss and boast, and iniquitous expense, "the upshot" will be that there will still be just as many adults in the State, who practically will not read, and who will forget how, as before. And there will be far fewer to use their art of reading to any good pur- pose. How often will men stubbornly forget that the art of TIIK NKGRO AND THE COMMON SCHOOL. 189 reading is not education^ but only a very uncertain means of education. With that class for which the free school especially provides, it is usually a worthless means. The feasible and use- ful education for that class is the development of faculties which takes place in learning how to make an honest li\ino'. My prediction is already verified in Massachusetts, the very home of the State-school humbug. The annual reports of their own school superintendents confess it. A large part of the rural laboring population, still do nat read, have forgotten how to read, do not care to know, and care not a stiver whether their children know. (Here, by the way, is the cause of this new furor for ''compulsory education"). Tried by this sober and truthful standard, I assert that the comparative fruits of our old system fully justified its excellence. Again I demand that the "tree shall be known by its fruits." That was the system which reared the Virginians of 1861: that glorious, enlightened gen- eration of men, which comprehended so clearly the vital im- portance of the great doctrine of State sovereignty, while the Yankee hordes, reared up under this be-ipraised system of free schools, iguorantly trampled on it with beastly stupidity and vio- lence: that glorious generation whicli contended for the right so firmh% so temperately, as to win the admiration of the world: that generation Avhieh, when moderation availed no longer, formed the heroic armies which followed Jackson and Lee to the last. Yes, it was the old Virginia system that reared the yeomanry which filled those immortal ranks with such a body of privates — so virtuous, so enduring, so brave, so intelligent, as no other generals ever commanded. Yes, "let the tree be known 'by its fruits." The tree that bore "the rank and file" of the Stonewall brigade was good enough for me. It may be pruned, it may be watered and tilled, and thus it may be im- proved. Our true wisdom will be to plant it again. This old system evinced its wisdom by avoiding the pagan. Spartan theory, which makes the State the parent. It left the parent supreme in his God-given sphere, as the responsible party for providing and directing the education of his own ofl- spring. This old plan, instead of usurping, encouraged and as- sisted, where assistance was needed. It was wise again, in that it avoided creating salaried offices to eat up the people's money, and yet do no actual teaching. It was supremely wise, in that 190 THE! I^EGRO AND TJtfE COMMON SCPtOOL. if cut the Grordian knot. "Eeliginn in the State school," which now 'baffles British and Yanlcee wit. It set that insuperable difficulty clear on one side, by leaving the school as the creature of the parents, and not of the State. It was wise in its exceed- ing ecenomy, a trait so essential to the State now. I would have our rulers, then, avail themselves of another circumstance growing out of our calamities, to disarm the over- weening zeal of the State school men. We can truthfully say to them: "Your system, whether best or not, is simply imprac- ticable for Virginia. You see that she has stretched taxation to the verge of confiscation; and yet her debt cannot be paid and that costly system carried on." Let two separate ''Literary funds," then, be created, one for whites and one for blacks, each separate, and each replenished from the taxation of its own class. Let "each tub stand upon its own bottom." Instead of the State undertaking to be a universal creator and sustainer of schools, let it invite jiarents to create, sustain, and govern their own .schools under the assistance and guidance of an inexpen- sive and (mainly) unsalaried Board, and then render such help to those parents who are unable to help themselves, as the very limited school tax will permit. And let the existence of .some aspiration in parents or children be the uniform condition of the aid; for without this condition it is infallibly thrown away. "One man may take a horse to w'ater, but a hundred can't make liim drink." R. L. DABNEY. Union Theological Seminary, Va., Feb. 21, 1876. THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM IMPOSED UPON VIRGINIA BY THE UNDERWOOD CONSTITUTION. DR. DABNEY, He Has A Few Words to Say in Replv to Dr. Rnffner, Repelling tlie Charge of luconsisteucv — An Advocate of Uni- versal Education, Provided it is True Education — Tlie Old Virginia Plan — School Houses and Jails — Educated Crim- inals— A Few Comparative Figures — Drenching and Drink- ing— Home Education. I. Hampden Sidney, Ya., April 18, 1870. To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools: Dear Sir: — You have undesignedly dane the cause of truth a service by so assailing the Virginia doctrines as advanced by nie in the Southern Planter as to awaken the public curiosity to their defence. That defence I propose to continue in a brief reply to 3^ou by facts and arguments alone. I do not propose to follow you into any personalities. I am perfectly aware that my person is, to the people of Virginia, too unimportant for them to feel interested in a squabble over its consistency or credit. I jDresume tliat their feeling for your private person al- so is not very different. For an important principle they may care. While my humble sphere as a minister and teacher may render the great })ublic indifferent to me personally, my em- ployers and neighbors, who know me, need no defence of my personal credit from any disparagement from what quarter so- ever. They know tliat my position is thoroughh' consistent and independent; that in mA^ own education I never received from Church or State one dollar of eleemosynary aid; and that I have neither neglected nor abused any official trust comniil- ted to me. 191 192 THE STATE FREE SCnoOL SYSTEM. You think ir iiicoii:arents and children together — not through their grammatical and arithmerical fac- ulties. The agents for this blessed work are ihe neighbor and THE STATE FKEE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 199 the church. Oliristian charity and zeal, with the potent social influences descending' from superioi'is to inferiors, in a society which is practically a kindly and liberal aristocracy; these may break the reign 'of ignorance and unaspiring apathy. The State cannot; the work is above its sphere. Very i-espectf ully, your obedient servant, R. L. DABNEY. DR. DABXEY AGAIX. Universal Education as Involving the Idea of the Leveller — All cannot Aspire to the Highest Stations — Manual Labor or Savagery the Destiny of the Major Part — Fancy Philan- thropists— The Common School Alumni — Theological Quacks — A Little Learning a Dangerous Thing. II. Hampden Sidney, Va.. Apiil 22. 1876. To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools: Dear Sir. — In the third place this theory of universal edu- cation in letters by the State involves the absurd and impossi- ble idea of the Leveller, as thjugh it were possible for all men to have equal destini€« in human society. It is a favorite pro- position with the asserters of these so-called American ideas, that "every American boy should improve himself as though he might some day be President of the United States."' That is to say, the system supposes and fosters a universal discontent with the allotments of Providence, and the inevitable graduations of rank, possessions and privilege. It is too obvious to need many words, that this temper is anti-Christian; the Bible, in its whole tone, inculcates the opposite spirit of modest contentment with our sphere, and directs the honorable aspiration of the good man to the faithful performance of its duties, rather than to the amibitious purpose to get out of it and above it. It may be ask- ed, does not the Bible recognize that fact, so pleasing to every generous mind, that the lower ranks now and then produce a youth worthy of the highest? Yes, David was taken from the sheep-folds to be Israel's most glorious king. But the Bible- idea is (and David's was a case precisely in point) that the hum- ble boy is to exhibit this fitness for a nobler destiny, not by dis- content and greedy cravings, but by his exemplary performances in his lower lot; and that Providence and his fellow-citizens are 1 Appeared in Riclvn'^nd Enquirer -00 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 201 to call him to "come up higher." For these instances of native merit, which are usually few, the State has no need to legislate. They will rise of themselves. The}' cannot ibe kept down, pro- vided only we do not legislate against them, but leave them the carriere euverte aux talents; or, if they will be the 'better for any provision, it should be exceptional, as they are exceptional cases. With this exception, it is utterly false that every American boy maj' aspire to the higher stations of life. In the lottery of life these prizes must be relatively few — only a few can reach them. Xor is it right or practicable to give to all boys an ''even start" in the race for them. The State, of cour.se, should not leg- islate to the disadvantage of an}- in this race; but we mean that Providence, social laws, and parental virtues and efforts, do in- evitably legislate in favor of some classes of boys in their start in that race, and if the State undertakes to countervail that leg- islation of nature by levelling action, the attempt is wicked, mis- chievous, and futile. The larger part of everj- civilized people is, and ever will be, addicted to i-egular, manual labor. The idea that the diffusion of intelligence and improvement of the arts are so to lighten the doom of labor, that two or three hours' work daily will provide for the wants of all, and leave the low- est laborer the larger part of his day for intellectual pursuits, is a preposterous dream. Let experience decide. Does the pro- gress of modern civilization tend to exact "shorter hours'" of its laborers than the barbarous state? Human desires always out- run human means. If this Utopian era is ever to come, when two or three hours of the artisan's time will be worth a day's work, the artificial wants of him and his family will have outrun him, in demanding the expenditure of five or six days' wages in one. The laborer will still find a motive for working all day as now — unless he turn loafer! And the last words remind us, that theinexoraible law of nature we have just pointed out is, on the whole, a -beneficent one; for it is necessary to prevent man- kind from abusing their leisure. The leisure conferred by wealth is now often abused. So would that secured for the poor, by this fancied wealth of intelligence, be yet more abused; and the six or eight hours redeemed from manual toil Avould be devoted, not to intellectual pursuits, but to wasteful and de- grading vices. And these vices would .soon rivet again the yoke of constant labor upon their necks, or the fetters of the jail or 202 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. house of correctioii. We repeat: The destiny of the major part of the human family is the alternative of manual labor or savagery. Now, no people will ever connect a real pursuit of mental culture with the lot of constant manual labor. The two are in- compatible. Neither time, nor taste, n3r strength, nor energy of brain will be found for both. Have not all manual-labor schools been failures? The man that works all day (usually) does not study. Tlie nerve-force has been expended (in the mus- cles, aud none is left for mental effort. Hence, we care not how universally the State may force the arts of penmanship and reading on the children of laborers, when these become laboring men they will cease to read and write; they will practically dis- use the arts as cumbersome and superfluous. This is a fact at which your enthusiast for common schools is very loath to look; but it is a stubborn one. The laboring classes in States which profess to give a universal education do not make any more beneficial use of letters, than those elsewhere. Prussia has for more than a generation com,pelled all her peasantry to go to school; but she is full of middle-aged peasants who have forgot- ten how to read, and who, in fact, never read. In boasted Mas sachusetts herself tin- very supenntt^ndents of the free schools lament that the State has more thau ever of labaring poor, espe- cially among the agi-icultural laborers, wlio neither know nor care anything concei-ning letters, for tliemselves or their chil- dren. The denyers of these stubborn facts are only the flatter- ers, not the friends, of the laborers. Again our fancy-philanthropist will raise his out-cry, that if these riews are admitted they condemn more than half of our fellow-creatures to a Boeotian stupidity and mental darkness. We might answer, first, that his expedients are futile to reverse that doom. The only difference ^between him and us is, that he is to3 quixotic, or uncandid, or interested, to admit the fact, (rod has made a social sub-soil to the top-soil, a s^ocial founda- tion in the dust, for the superstructure — the Utopian cannot un- make it, least of all by his patchwork. But tliere is a second answer; he fargets that the use of letters is not educa- tion, but only oue means of education, and not the only means. The laboring classes find their appropriate mental and moral cultivation in their tasks themselves, aud in the example aud in- THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 208 fliieuce of the superiors for whom they hib^r. The plough-mau or artisan cultivates his mental faculties most appropriately in acquiring' skill and resource for his work. He trains the moral virtues 'by the fidelity and endurance with which he ]jerformvS that work. He ennobles his taste and sentiments by hiokiug up t J the superior who employs him. If to these influences you add the awakening, elevating, expanding force (>f (Miristian princi- ples, you have given rliar laborer a true education — a hundred fold more true, m )re suitable, more useful, than the communica- tiion of certain literary arts, which he will almost necessarily disuse. Let the i-eader recall that brilliant passage of Macaulav, as just as brilliant, in which he shows, against Dr. Johnson, that the Athenian populace, without books, was a highly-cultivated people. Let him remember how entirely the greatnesis of the feudal barons in the middle ages, was dissociated from all "clerkly arts;" yet they were warrioi-s. statesnu^n. poets, and gentlemen. So, our awn country presents an liumbler instance in the moi'e respectable of the African fieeilmen. Tens of thousands of these, ignorant of letters, but trained to i)ractical skill, thought, and resource, by intelligent masters, and imitat- ing" their superior breeding and sentiments, present, in every aspect, a far "higher style of man" than yonr Yankee laborer frr>m his common school, with his shallow smattering and pur- blind conceit, and his wretched news})aper stutfed with moral garbage from the police-courts, and with false and ])oisi)nous heresies in politics and religion. Put such a man in the same arena with the Southern slave frcnn a respectable i)lantation. and in one week's time the ascendancy of the Xegr). in self-res- pect, courage, breeding, prowess and ]>ractical intelligtmce, will assert itself paljjably to the Yankee and to all spectators. The slave was. in fact, the educated man. Let it be granted, as we have just implied, that there is a certain use which this alumnus of the common school may con- tinue to make of his kn jv.ledge of letters. This g-ives us our strongest argument. Then the common schools will have cre- ated a numerous "public" of readers one-ermeate the whole ix)pular mass with any wholesale iuiluence, the wisest plan is tD place the element of good at the top, that it may percKilate downwards. The engineer, when he wishes to supply the humblest, lowliest lane or alley of a city with pure water, establishes his reservoir upon the topmost hill; and thence it descends, without any other force than its own gravit^ . to every door and ever}- lip. So the most etfectual, the most truly philanthroipic mode for elevating the lower classes of so- ciety is to provide for the rise of the superior class. This is na- ture's process; she elevates the \thole mass (by lifting it from above so that all the parts rise together, preserAing that relation of places on whose preservation the whole organism depends. The fashionable planis to place the leverunder the bottom stones and prize them to the level of the cap-stones of which the result is that the whole structure tumbles into rubbish. The establish- ment of the University of Virginia for giving the most thorough training to advanced scholars has been the most truly liberal measure for the cultivation of the masses ever adopted in the State. It teaches only a few hundred of young men, and those only in the highest studies? True, but in giving them a higher standard of acquirement it has elevated as well as multiplied all the teachers of everj- grade; making the instruction better, down to the primary schools where the children of the poor learn the rudiments of reading. And what is better still, it has made thorough culture resfjectaible, and diffused- honest aspirations to the lowest ranks. Your very obedient servant, R. 'L. DABXEY. ANOTHER DABNEY BOLT FOR DR. RUFFNER'vS BENE- FIT. Overweening Philanthropists — Decent and Vile Children — 'The Danger of Disease — \Yhat Dr. Dahnej Thinks of Southern NegTOes as Compared with Northern l*oor Wliites — Dema- gogues and roliticians and Their Relation to the Free School System — Tlie Testimony of Webster, Not the Dic- tionarj- Man — An Alternative Horrible to Contemplate. III. Hampden Sidney, Va., A])ril 1*5, 1S7G. To W. H.Ruffner Esq., Superintendent of Sta/e Schools: Dear Sir. — In the objections thus far set forth there are premises which, however true and impregnalble, are now so un- fashionable that with many they will meet no response but an angry outcry. The application of them would denwlish so man^- vain idols, udw much cherrslied, that the writer cannot hope for a hearing even, from many minds. Time must be the only teacher for these overweening philanthropists. When they are taught by liini that ithis system of State education has utter- ly failed to produce the benetits they designed, and has fixed on us the mischiefs above described, tliey will learn that these are the words of truth and soberness. But we puiii),)se to pi-esent three other points of objection not involving the principles ex- pounded in the previous part of this discussion, more practical and indisputable; and either one of these is sufficient f:)r the ut- ter condemnation of the system. The first is, that if a system of universal common schools is to ibe carried out in good faith, there must be a mixture of the children of the decent and the children of the \\\q in the same society during the most plastic age. The boast is: that the ed- 1 Appeared in iJjcATCO?Jd /"r/jnVfr. '^-^'> 208 THE StATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. ucation is to be for all, and most prominently for the lowest and most i^orant, because they need it most. Then, if this boast is to be faithfully realized, all the moral lepers among the chil- dren of a given district must be thrust into the society of our children at school. In order to receive the shallow modicum of letters there dispensed, they must be daily brought into personal CDntact with the cutaneous and other diseases, the vermin — (Yes, dear reader, it is disgusting! We would spare you if faith- fulness permitted; but tlie foulness belongs to the plan, not to us) — the obscenity, the profanity, the groveling sentiments, the violence of the gamins, with which our boated maternal civili- zation teems in its more popubiis places. ' This must be done, too, at the tender and imitative age of childhood. Tlie high, sacred prerogative of the virtuous parent to choose the moral influences for his own beloved offspring must be sacrificed to this ruthless, levelling idol. Every experienced teacher knows that pupils educate each other more than he educates them. The thousand nameless influences — literary, social, moral— not only of the play-ground but of the school-room, the whispered conver- sation, the clandestine note, the sly grimace, the sly pinch, the good or bad recitation, mould the plastic character of children far more than the most faithful teacher's hand. Now, there are some quarters of our towns and ciiies. and .S'ome rural neighborhoods, where this difficulty is little felt; either because the limited population is nearly homogeneous, or because the poor are decent and virtuous. Especially has the latter case been realized in many country communities of the &outh, where such was the cleanliness, propriety, good breed- ing, and moral elevation of the poorer families, imbibed from their kindly dependence on cultivated superiors, that a neigh- borhood school could be made to include all the white children, without serious injury to the morals of any. But the levelling policy, of which State common schools are a constituent mem- ber, now claims to make the blacks equal, socially and political- ly, to the most reputable whites. Against the .collection of white children into the same public schools with Xegroes, the very principle which we are illustrating, has made a protest so indignant and determined that, although the protest of the con- quered, it has been heard in all the Southern States, except Louisiana. The refusal to hear it there resulted in the absolute tHe statk free school system. 209 hanishmcnl: iif the children of the white citizens from the schools supported by their money. And this pratest has not been, as the enemy and conqueror deems it, the mere expre.sislon of caste- pi*ejudice, but the conscientious demand of the natural rij>ht to our children from moral contaminarion. Here, then, we have a broad, a recognized application of this potent objection to the State system. The whole Southern jieople make the objection; nearly all the friends of State education admit its force in this case. But on this conceded case there are two remarks to be made. First, the concession is inconsistent with the whole the- ory of State schoiols and of the levelling syvstem to which they belong. This is so clearly felt, that even now the determined ad- vocates of State education are candid enough to fDreshadow the withdrawal of the concession, speaking of it as an arrangement "necessary for the time -being." Is it your opinion that this con- cession should be yielded ta us temporarily or permanently? Do you think that it should be withdrawn after a little, when all the staunch old Confederates like me have died out; or that the Ne- groes should never be admitted to the same schools as the whites? Yankeedom and Xegrodom are listening for your con- sistent answer. Second. The Sourheni Negroes are a less de- graded and vicious race than many large elements of the white poor, who, in parts of the North, have free entrance into the common schools there. Indeed, the force of the social objection is felt and acted on by numbers of the Northern peOiple. Many are the blatant advocates of the system among the people of Ijroperty, who yet dream not of sending their own children to the common schools. They consult their popularity by pretend- ing to advocate the system; and yet, for their own olTspring, rhey will not so much as touch it with a tip of their fingers. And many are the Phariasaic negrophobists who bereate and revile the Southern people^for resisting this abhorrent amalgamation of their children with blacks; who would Hout with f;:»ul scorn the proposal to send their own pampered brats to the common school near them along with the children of their po:)r white neighbors. Sometimes it is asked, "How are the degraded classes to be elevated if they are thus to be denied all association with those better than themselves?" We reply that while we fully recog- nize the Christian duty of seeking the degraded and of drawing 210 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. them up to purer associations, we beg leave to demur against employing our innocent and inexperienced children as the mis- sionaries. The braving of this moral contagion is the proper work of mature men and women of virtue; and these are to ele- vate their beneficiaries by holding to them the relation of bene- volent superiors, not of comrades and equals in school-room and play-ground. It is claimed that it is the teacher's part to prevent those "evil communications which corrupt good man- ners." We reply that it is impossible; he would need more than the hundred hands of Briareus and the hundred eyes of Argus, with more moral fidelity than falls to the share of any save apostles and martyrs. Is the pittance paid to a common-school teacher likely to purchase all these splendid endowments? It is said that if a fastidious parent does not like the social atmos- phere of the common school he may pay for a more select pri- vate one. But he is taxed compulsorily to support this schooi which parental duty forbids him to use; so that the system in this case amounts to an iniquitous penalty upon him for his faithfulness to his conscience. What clearer Instance of perse- cution could arise? Once more it is sneeringly asked: "Have children's morals never been corrupted in private schools?" They have, alas, often been. But this only shows our argument stronger instead of weaker; for it proves that parental vigilance as to the moral atmosphere of the children's comrades needs to be greatly increased; while this system insists upon extinguish- ing all such conscientious watchfulness, and provides the pun- ishment of a mulct for its exercise. The second objection is yet more damning as against the system of State schools in this country. They are, and will in- evitably be, wielded by the demagogues, who are in power for the time, in thp interests of their faction. Here is a danger and a curse whic-i lust not be estimated by the results of the system in any other country, such as Scotland or Prussia. In the for- mer kingdom the Presbyterian system of parochial schools gave what was virtually a national primary education. But it was not obnoxious to this perversion to factious uses. Scotland is a lit- tle country, and was then almost absolutely homogeneous in religion and polities; the government was a stable, hereditary monarchy, of the change of which there was neither possibility nor desire; the schools were controlled by the parish clergy and THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 211 kirk sessions, parties whose attitude was at once independent, and dissociated from political objects and managers. In Prus- sia, also, we see a permanent military monarchy ruling the peo- ple with a uniformity and resistless power which has hitherto left no hope to the demagogue. It is very true that this mon archy does manipulate the i^tate schools in the interest of its own perpetuity, and in doing so inflicts on tlie minds of the people no little injury. But the wrong thus done is as white as snow compared with pitch, when set against the foul per- versions wrought 1)3' our demagogues in power. For an old, stable monarchy is always infinitely more decent and moderate than a democratic faction in America rioting on the spoils of party success. The teachings of the monarchy, if self-interest- ed, are at least conservative and consistent; and they include a respectal)le knowledge of the riiristian religion. It will be utterly delusive, therefore, to argue for the value of State com- mon schools from Scotland or I'russia. Our demagogues will take effectual care that our schools shall not yield us even the mixed fruits which those nations have reaped from theirs. For what is it on which American politicians do not lay their harpy hands to get or to keep the spoils of office? On the offices themselves, which the law has instituted for the public service; on finance; on commerce; on the railroads; on the productive industries of the citizens; on taxation; on our lioly religion itself! And, like the harpies, whatever they touch the}^ contaminate! That the school system of the States is per- verted to factions and sordid ends is so notorious that we shall not insult the intelligence of our readers by many testimonies. Has not the supreme official of the school system in the State of Indiana, for instance, been seen to publish to tlie world his unblushing boast that he had successfully arrested the whole machinery to inculcate upon all the children of that State the malignant and lying creed of Radicalism? And this man, after satisfying his masters, the Radical Legislature, of his success in placing this gospel of hate and murder, and these utter falsi- fications of history and fact and constitutional law, in the ten- der hand of every child in Indiana, only intimates, in the most gingerly and apologetic way, a faint inclination to give them the Word of God: which yet, he hastens to assure them, he had not presumed to attempt! Again, these omnipotent school 212 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. boards, under the plausible pretext of uuit'oruiity of text-books, enter into alliances with capitalists who are publishers of books (for what solid consideration, who can tell?), giving them the monopoly of manufacturing American history, ethics and poli- tics for the children of a whole ^tate, without leaving any op- tion to the parent. This single feature, presented iby the alli- ance of the "Book-Trade" with the Education Boards, is suffi- cient to condenm the whole in the judgment of every inde- pendent mind. If it is not corrected the liberty of the citizens is gone. In some of those Southern States where the Conserva- tives have been so, fortunate as to retain control of the State governments the advocates of State education are openly heard attempting, in their new-born zeal, to reconcile the people to the measure forced upon them by promising that it shall be so manipulated as to train the next generation of negroes to vote with the Conservatives. Now the temptation of the oppressed to foil their oppressors may be very strong; and they may be inclined to be rather unscrupulous in the means of defense against enemies so unscrupulous and abhorred as the carpet- bag horde. It may be very alluring to us to employ this tyran- nical system, which is forced upon us against our will, to the ruin of its inventors, and thus to "hoist the engineer with his own petard." But the foreseeing man cannot but remember that it is a dangerous force which is employed, and that on any change of the faction in power what we hope to make sauce to the (Radical) goose may become sauce to the (Conservative) gander. It is a hazardous game for good people to attempt to "fight the devil with fire." This perversion of a pretended system of education is as in- tolerable as it is certain. It is hard enough to have a triumphant faction rule us in a mode which outrages our sense of equity and patriotism — shall they also abuse their power to poison the minds of our own children against the principles which we honor, and to infect them with the errors which we detest? Is it not enough that our industries must all be burdened and our interests blighted by the selfish expedients of demagogues grasping after power and plunder? Must the very souls of our children be made merchandise and trafficked with in the same hateful cause? What freemen can endure it? These practices have already disclosed their destructive fruits in preparing a THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 213 whole generation, by a pupilage of lies, for a war of plunder and subjugation against the South. For years before the war the sectional and aggressive party had control of the State educa- tion in Xew England and the Northwest. They used their op- portuniry diligently; and the result was that when the chance to strike came, they had a whole generation trained to their }»urpose in hatred of the South and in constitutional heresies. Such was the testimony of Daniel Webster. Two gentlemen from Virginia — ^old collegemates of mine — were visiting Wash- ington during Mr. Filmore's administration. Webster's return towards an impartial course had then gained him some respect in the South, and my twio friends paid their respects to him. While conversing with them he fixed his dark eyes on them, and with great earnestness asked: ''Can't you Southern gen- tlemen consent, upon some sort of inducement or plan, to sur- render slavery?" They replied firmly: "Not to the interference or dictation of the Federal Grovernment. And this not on ac- (•(uint of mercenary or selfish motives, but Ibecause to allow outside interference in this vital matter would forfeit the lib- erties and other rights of the South." "Are you ifixed in that?" asked Webster. "Yes, unalterably." "Well," he said, with an awful solemnity, "I cannot say you are wrong, but if you are fixed in that, go home and get ready your weapons:" They asked him what on earth he meant. He replied, that the par- sons and common-school teachers and school-marms had dili- gently educated a whole Northern generation into a passionate hatred of slavery, who would, as certainly as destiny, attack Southern institutions. So that if Southern men were determined not to surrender their institutions they had better prepare for war. Thus, according to Mr. Webster, the crimes, woes, and horrors of the last fifteen years aie all partly due to this school system. The only condition in which free government can ex- ist is amidst the wholesome competition of two great constitu- rional parties, who watch and restrain each other. The result of this system of State schools is that the successful party ex- tinguishes its rival, and thus secures for Itself an unchecked career of usurpation. For it aims to extinguish all the diver- sity and independence which the young would derive from par- ental inculcation, and to imprint upon the whole body of com- ing citizens its own monotonous type of political heresies and 214 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. passions. This is viitually doue in America. For tlie Northern Democratic party is only a little less radical than the Radicals, and really separated from them chiefly by the craving for party sp3ils. If the triumphant faction, wielding this power of uni- versal education, happens to be one as able, patriotic, and hon- est as the party of Knox and Melville, then there may result the marvelous homogeneity and thrift of Presbyterian Scotland. But the ascendant faction may happen to be a ruthless and un- principled Radicalism, armed with this power of universal cor- ruption 3f future opiuiou and morals I And what then? All is lost; the remaining alternatives are Chinese civilization, or savagery. Your very obedient servant, R. L. DABXEY. DR. DABNEY'S BATTERY. ^ HE OPENS FIRE ON DR. RUFFNER FROM ANOTHER QUARTER. His Fourtli Letter— The Bible in the Public Schools— The Diffi- culty not Limited to America — Is Religious Training Essen- tial?— The Human Spirit a Monad — The Duty of Parents. IV. Hampden Sidney, Va., May 4, i8t6. To W. H. Ruffner, Esq., Superintendent of State Schools: Dear Sir. — The third objection to education by the State is, if possible, more conclusive still. It is one which looms up al- ready in such insuperable dimensions that we freely acknowl- edge the hope that the whole system may be wrecked by it at an early day. This is the difficulty, especially for American Commonwealths, of the religious question. What religion shall be taught to the children by the State's teachers as the neces- sary part of the education of reasonable and moral beings? We have only to mention the well-known facts that the citizens of these Amencan States are conscientiously divided among many and rival sects of religion, and that our forms of goveni- ment tolerate no union of Church and State, and guarantee equal rights to all men irrespective of their religious opinions, to show to any fair mind how impossible it is for the advo- cates of universal State education to do more than evade the point of the difficulty. It has been made familiar to every read- er of the newspapers in America iby recent events in this coun- try— ^in New York, in Cincinnati, and elsewhere. The teaching of King James's version of the Christian Scriptures even has led to violent protest and even to actual riot and combat. The most numerous and determined complainants are, of course, Roman Catholics; but the Jews, now becoming increasingly nu- merous and influential, and the Unitarians and Deists must 1 Appeared in Richmond Enquirer. '-15 216 THE statp: frke school system. claim similar grounds of protest. Their argument is that this version of the Scriptures is, in their sincere judgment, erron- eous; and therefore thev cannot conscientiously permit it to bo taught to their children. But as they are taxed to support these schools, they cannot be justly perverted to teach their children an obnoxious creed without a virtual establishment of the Protestant religion at public expense; which is an outrage against the fundamental principles and laws of the State. The special advocates of the common schools, who are usually also zealous Protestants, try hard to tlout tliis objection as captious. But while we are very far from being Komanists in religion, we feel that this difficulty canuot be justly disposed of in this way. If the State, through its teachers, taught the children of us Protestants that version of the Bible which makes the Re- deemer say: ''Except ye do penance ye shall all likewise per- ish." we should make a determined resistance. No i)ower on earth would force us to acquiesce in such inculcation of what we devoutly believe to be religious error. And we should feel that it was an inexcusable injustice to tax us for the purpose of teaching to our beloved children what we could not, at the peril of our souls, permit them to learn. Xow, the common-school advocates of New York and of Ohio would say, our objection is just, because the Latin vulgate is really an erroneous trans- lation; the objection of the Romanists is unjust because King James's is a substantially correct version of Grod's word. As theologians, and in an ecclesiastical arena, we assert that this is true; and are confident that we can establish it. But this is not the point. We have covenanted that in our political relations as citizens of the Commonwealth, all shall have equal rights irrespective of their religion. In tliat sphere we are bound to be impartial; "our word is out." The very point of the coven- ant is. that so far as civic rights and privileges go, our Roman- ist fellow-citizens" opinions (erroneous though we deem them. In our religious judgment) shall be respected precisely as they are required to respect ours. The weight of the Romanist pro- test, then, cannot be consistently evaded by American repub- licans. This difficulty is not limited to our democratic land. In Great Britain and Ireland, where the government is moving for national education, all the denominations of Christians are hopelessly involved in it. For the settlement of this matter, THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 217 there are, if the State educates, but three possible alternatives. One is to force the relij^ion of the majority on the children of the minority of the peojde. The injustice of this has already been proved. A second solntijn is what the British call the plan of "concurrent endowment.'' It consists in aidin<>- the citi- zens of different religious to gather their children in separate schools, in which religious instruction may be g"iven suited to the views of the parents, and all paid far 'by the State alike. The clamors of the Romanists in New York have been partially appeased by acts falling virtually under this plan. The city government, in view of the fact tliat Romanists cannot con- scientiously send their children to schools which they are taxed to support, make appropriations of public mone}^ to some of their schools, which are in every respect managed after their own religious ideas. This ''concurrent end'owment" is justly as odious to the great Protestant body, both in this country and Great Britain, as any plan could be. It offers its seeming: solu- tion only in places populous enough in the several rival reli- gions to furnish materials for a school to each. In all other places it makes no provision for the difficulty. It is a dereliction from principle in a State i)revalently Protestant in its popula- tion thus to place contradictory systems of 'belief upon a com- plete legislative equality, teaching both alike, when the truth of the one inevitably implies the falsehood of the other. It outrages the rights of Protestants by expending a part of the money they pay in propagating opinions which they regard as false and destructive, and it gives to erroneous creeds a pecun- iary and moral support beyond that which t^hey draw from the zeal and free gifts of their own votaries. For these reasons the plan of "concurrent endowment" is reprobated by all the strong- er denominations on both sides of the Atlantic. The Irish and Amencan Catholics profess to approve it, because they expect to gain something by it, but most inconsistently. Who dreams that if they held t'he power, and were in the majority in either the British or Yankee empire (as in the French), they would be willing to see "good Catholic money" appropriated by the State to teach ''Prote.stant heresies?" The third alternative proposed is, to limit the teaching of the State schools in every case to secular learning, leaving the parents to supply such religious instruction as they see fit in 218 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. their own way and time, or to neglect it wholly. Of this solu- tion no Christian of any name can 'be an advocate. We have seen how utterly the Pope and his prelates reprobate it. All other denominations in Europe regard it as monstrous; and in- deed no adherent of any religion can be found in any other age or country than America who would not pronaunce it wicked and absurd for any agency undertaking the education of youth to leave their religious culture an absolute blank. Testimonies might be cited to weariness; we will satisfy ourselves with a few. two of which are of peculiar relevancy, because drawn from unwilling witnes.ses, earnest advocates of tState schools. In an annual meeting of the Teachers' Association of the State of Maryland a well-considered piece was read by a prominent member, in which the immense difficulty of the religious ques- tion in State schools was fairly displayed. The author, on the one hand, admitted that the rights of conscience of parents could not be justly disregarded. He held, on the other, that a schooling devoid of moral and religious teachings ought to be utterly inadmissable. The best solution he could suggest was, that the State should get up a course of moral and theological dogmas for its pupils, embracing only those common truths in which all parties are agreed, and excluding every truth to which any one party took exception. And he admitted that, as we have Protestants. Papists, Unitarians, Jews, Deists, etc., (not to say Mormons and the heathen Chinese), the Bible and all its characteristic doctrines must be excluded! It is too plain that when the State school's creed had been pruned of every proposi- tion to which any one party objected, it would be worthless and odious in the eyes of every party, and would be too emasculated '^^o do any child's soul a particle of good. In a meeting of the Educational Association of Virginia four years ago a pious and admirable paper was read by one of the most eminent citizens in the State (Dr. J. B. Minor) on this theme: ''Bible instruction in schools." After some exor- dium it begins thus: "It must be acknowledged to be one of the most remarkable phenomena of our perverted humanity that among a Christian people, and in a Protestant land, such a discussion should not seem as absurd as to inquire whether school-rooms should be located under water or in darksome cav- erns. The Jew, the Mohammedan, the follower of Confucius THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 210 and of Brahma, each and all are careful to instruct the youth of their people in the tenets of the religions they profess, and are not content until, by direct and reiterated teaching, they 'have been made acquainted with at least the outline of the books which contain, as they believe, the revealed will of Deity. Whence comes it that Christians are so indiflferent to a duty so obvious, and so universally recaguized by Jew and Pagan?'' The absolute necessity of Bible instruction in schools is then argued with irresistible force. Yet, with all this, such is the stress of the difficulty which we are pressing, it betrays this able writer into saying: "I do not propose to allude to the agitating question of the introduction of the Scriptures into public schools conducted under authority of government." But why not? If other schools so imperatively need this element of Bi- ble instruction, why do not the State schools? Its necessity is argued from principles which are of universal application to beings who have souls. Why shall not the application be made to all schools? Alas! the answer is: the right conclusion cannot be applied to State schools. We claim, then, this is a complete demonstration that the State is unfit to assume the educational function. The argument is as i)lain and perfect as any that can be imagined. Here is one part which is absolutely essential to the very work of right education : the State is effectively dis- abled from performing that part. Then the State cannot edu- cate, and should not profess it. The argument is parallel to this: In order to be a country physician it is essential that one shall ride in all weathers. A. cannot ride in bad weather. Then A. cannot be a country physician, and if he is an honest man he vsill not profess to be. Whether the religious training is ■essential to all right edu- cation, let us hear a few more witnesses. Said Daniel W^ebster, in the Girard will-case, commenting on the exclusion of clergy- men from the proposed orphan college : "In what age, by what sect, where, when, by whom, has religious truth been excluded from the education of youth? Nowhere; never. Everywhere, and at all times, it has been and is regarded as essential. // is of the essence, the vitality of useful instruction "' Says Sir Henry Bulwer: ''I do not place much confidence in the phil- osopher who pretends that the knowledge which develops the passions is an instrument for their suppression, or that where !^20 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. there are the most desires there is lili:ely to be the most ordei- and the most abstinence in their gratification." The historian Fronde (a witness bv no means friendly to orthodoxy), quoting Miss Nightingale, a philanthropist as Christian as wise, em- phatically endorses her opinion, that the ordinary and natural effect of the communication of secular knowledge to youths whose destiny is labor is only to suggest the desire for illicit objects of enjoyment. Says Dr. Francis Wayland: "Intellec- tual cultiyation may easily exist without the existence of yirtue or love of right. In this case its only effect is to stimulate de- sire; and this unrestrained by the love of right must eventually overturn the social fabric which is at first erected.'' Hear John Locke: "It is virtue, then, direct virtue, which is the hard and valuable part to be aimed at in education. * * * jf virtue and a well-tempered soul be not got and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious habits, languages, and science, and all the other accomplishments of education, will be to no purpose ^u^ to make the worse or more dangerous itian^'' We propose now to substantiate these ^iews of the wise and experienced, by arguing that tuition in Christianity is es- sential to all education which i.s worth the name. And we claim more than the admission that each man should at some stage of his training, and by somebody, be taught Christi;inity; we mean in the fullest sense that Christianity must be a present element of all the training at all times, or else it i-s not true and valuable education. Some one may say that this broad propo- sition is refuted at the outset by frequent instances of persons who received, at least during a part of their youth, a training perfectly non-Christian, and who yet are very useful, and even Christian citizens. The answer is easy: It is the prerogative of a merciful Providence, and the duty of His children, to repair the defects and misfortunes of His creatures and to bring good out of evil. But surely this comes far short of a justification for us if we willingly employ faulty methods which have a regular tendency to work evil. Surely it is not our pri\ilege to make mischief for God and good Christians to repair! Let the candid reader, then, ponder the weight of these facts. The human spirit is a monad, a single, unit, spiritual substance, having facilities and .susceptibilities for different modifications, but no parts. Hence, when it is educated it is THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 221 educated as a uuii. The moral judgmeuLs aud acts of the soul all involve an exercise of reason; so that it is impossible to sep- arate the ethical and intellectual functions. The conscience is the supreme, directive faculty of the soul; so that knowledge •bears to moral action the relation of means to end. Man fulfills the ends of his existence, not by right cognitions, but by right m'oral actions. Hence we are obviously correct in holding that the fundamental value of right cognitions is simply as they are the means of right moral acts — that is, the knowledge is really valuable only as it is in order to right actions. Again: The na- ture of responsibility is such that there can be no neutrality, or tertium quid, between duty and sin. "He that is not with his God is against him." He who does not positively comply with the ever-present obligation does ipso facto violate it, and con- tract positive sinfulness. Hence as there cannot be in any soul a non-Christian state which is not anti- Christian, it follows that any training which attemj)ts to be non-Christian is there- fore anti-Christian. God is the rightful, supreme mas- ter and owner of all reasonable creatures, and their nearest and highest duties are to him. Hence to train a soul away from him is a robbery of God, which he cannot justify in any person or agency whatsoever. He has not, in- deed, committed to the 8tate the duty of leading souls to him as its appropriate task. This is committed to the familj' and to his church. Yet it does by no means follow that the State may do anything tending to the opposite. The soul is essentially ac- tive, and every human being in his active powers of moral de- sire, volition and habit, is unavoidably exercising himself. Hence, whatever omission or neglect maj' be practiced as to the formation of a character, every character does inevitably form itself, for evil if not for good! Eemember, also, that evil ex- ample is omnipresent in the world, and the disposition to re- spond to it is innate in every child. How obvious, then, that a "let-alone policy" as to the moral development must, to a great- er or less degree, amount to a positive development of vicious character? Not to row is, itself, to float down the stream. Once more: the discipline of one set of faculties may leave other faculties inert and undeveloped. This result is, then, more than a negative mischief, because the balance or proportion of the character is then more perverted. Should the branches and 222 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. leaves of a tree cuiitiinie to grow while the rjots remained sta- tionary it would result in the destruction of the tree, and this although the roots contracted no positive disease or weakness. The first gale would blaw it over in consequence of the dispro- portion 'of its parts. In this view the conclusion cited above from Sir H. Bulwer and Mr. Froude is seen to be perfectly just. With the increase of knowledge temptations must increase. Wider circles of imagined enjoyments are opened to the de- sires, so that if the virtuous habitude is not correspondingly strengthened, criminal wishes and purposes will be the sure re- sult. He who has criminal purposes is, moreover, by his knowl- edge equipped with more power to execute them. Locke's con- clusion is just. In the words of Dr. Griffin, to educate the mind without purifying the heart is but "to place a sharp sword in the hand of a madman." Our last proposition of these premises is that practically the Bible is the source and rule of moral ob- ligation in this land. By this we do not mean to decide that even an atheist, not to say a disbeliever in inspiration, might not be still obliged from his principles to recognize the impera- tive force of CDUscience in his own reason, if he w'ould philoso- phize correctly. But practically few do recognize and obey con- science except those who recognize the authority of the Bible. This book is, in point of fact, the source from which the Amer- ican people draw their sense of obligation, and of its metes and •bounds, so far as they have any. This is especially true of chil- dren. Grant the inspiration of the Bible, and we have a basis of moral appeal sd simple and strong that practically all other ■bases are comparatively worthless, especially for the young. Its moral histories have an incompatible adaptation to the popular and the juvenile mind. The Bible alone applies to the heart and conscience with any distinct certainty the great forces of future rew^ards and punishments and the powers of the world to come. And, above all, it alone provides the purifjing influences of re- demption. There can be, therefore, no true education without moral culture, and no true moral culture without Christianity. The very power of the teacher in the school-room is either moral or it is a degrading, brute force. But he can show the child no other moral basis for it than the Bible. Hence ray argument is as perfect as clear. The teacher must be Christian. But the THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. 228 American Commouwealth has promised to have no religions character. Then it cannot be teacher. If it undertakes to be, it must be consistent, and go on and unite Churcli and State. Are you ready to follow your opinions to this consistent end? Since religious education is so essential a part, It is obvious that a wise Providence must have allotted the right and duty of giving it to some other of the independent spheres between which he has distributed the social interests of man. This duty rests with the parent. Such is the Protestant doctrine — the Bible doctrine. Neither State nor Church are to usurp it; but iboth are to enlighten, encourage and assist the parent in his inalienable task. A feeble attempt has been made to escape this fatal objec- tion by saying: Let the State schools teach secular knowledge, and let the parents, in other places and times, supplement this with such religious knowledge as they please and by the help of such Church as may please them. The fatal answers are: Ist. The secular teacher depends for the very authority to teach upon the Bible. 2d. The exclusion of the Bible would put a stigma on it in the child's mind which the parent cannot afterwards remove. 3d. How can one teach history, ethics, psiy- chology, cosmogony, without implying some religious opinions? 4th, and chiefly: The parents who are too poor, ignorant, and delinquent to secure their children secular schooling will, by the stronger reason, be sure to neglect their religious education. But these are the parents whose deficiencies give tlie sole pre- text for the State's interference, so that the one-sided training which the State leaves merely secular will remain so in all these cases. But these cases give to the State common school its sole raison d'etre. I conclude, therefore, that in a country like America, at least, your favorite system is ina])plicable, and will work only mischief. Our old Virginia system, besides its economy, has these great logical advantages: that it leaves to parents, with- out usurpation, their proper function as creators or electors of their children's schools, and that it thus wholly evades the re- ligious question, which is, to you, insoluble. Government is not the creator but the creature of human society. The Govern- ment has no mission from God t) make the community; on the contrary, the community should make the Government. What 224 THE STATE FREE SCHOOL SYSTEM. the community shall be is determiued by Providence, where it is happily determined by far other causes than the meddling of governments — ^by historical causes in the distant past — by vitml ideas propagated by great individual minds — especially by the Church and its doctrines. The only communities which have had their characters manufactured for them by their govern- ments have had a villainously bad character — like the Chinese and the Yankees. Noble races make their gov- ernments; ignoble ones are made by them. I remain your very obedient servant, R. L. DABNEY. SECULARIZED EDUCATION.' Who is the agent entitled to control ecliieation? What is right education? These questions are interdependent. Two answers have been proposed to the first in history: The State, the Church. In Europe, Liberalism saj'S the State, and insists on secularizing education, by which it means its release from the control of popery. Liberals see clearly that, under that control, there will ibe no true freedom. ]^ut, as they also in- sist on secularizing the State, their idea of a free education is of one devoid of religion, sei)arating the mental from the spir- itual culture. Thus they conclude that education must be God- less, in order to be free. Rome has herself to blame for this error, as for most of European scepticism. She claims that she alone is Christian: independent minds reply, "Then Christian- ity is evil." So if her education were the only Christian, free- men would have to reject Christian education. If private judg- ment is sin; if the hierarchy is the Church; if the teacher is a real priest and essential ''proxy" between men and salvation; if his teaching is infallible; if the real end of the culture is to enslave the soul to a priesthood with a foreign head; if that head is absolutely superior to the secular sovereignty, such ecclesias- tical education will be civil slavery. It is not strange that nu'U seeking civil liberty spurn it. The mistake is in confounding ecclesiastical with Christian education. Let the Scripture be heard: "The kingdom of God is within you," consisting, not in a greedy hierarchy, but in the rule of Truth; the clergy are not lords over God's heritage, but only "ministers iby whom we believe"; it has no penalties but the spiritual, reaching no man's civil rights; its only other function is didactic, and its teaching only binds so far as the layman's own conscience responds; it is the Church's duty to instruct parents how God would have them rear their children, — ' 005 1 A-p-pearedinLibbifs Princeton Renew. 226 SECULARIZED EDUCATION. aud enforce the duty bj- spiritual sanctions; but there its of- ficial power ends. It does not usurp the doing of the important task it inculcates. As a Christian private man the minister lends other parents his knowledge and virtues to co-operate in their work. But all this implies no danger either to spiritual or religious liberty. But it will be well for the modern Liiberal to pause and ask whether he secures anything by this transfer of the educating function from Church to State? Does he point to the results of Jesuit teaching, spurious, shallow scholarship, an enslaved and morbid conscience, which dares not even wish to break its fetters, the insatiable greed of the hierarchj- for influence aud money, the hateful perversion of the sacred task to inspire false- hood and prejudice for this end? The picture is sufficientl}' repulsive. But are only ecclesiastics grasping? Is liuman na- ture depraved? Is it essentially the same in all men? Then w^hy are they not to be expected to act in similar ways, when subjected to the same temptations? And the modern Liberal is the last man to overlook this truth; since he is sceptical of all professions of spiritual principles in clergymen, and prone to ascribe secular motives. He should, then, expect the dema- gogue to show a misguided ambition exactly like the priests. What is the hierarch but a ghostly demagogue? The dema- gogue is but the hierarch of Mammon's altar. Does he not, for instance, pervert that other educating agency, the press, just as violently as the Jesuit the school? Now, let him become ruler in the State and the State become educator; and there is just the same risk that the education of youth will be perverted to subserve a faction, and that, by the hateful means of imbuing their minds with error and passion in place of truth and right. The result is despotism of a party instead of a pope. One may be as bad as the other. But if the State is the educator, in America, at least, educa- tion must ibe secularized totally. In theory our State is the in- stitute for realizing secular justice. It has absolutely severed itself from all religions equally; has pledged itself that no man's ciA'il rights shall be modified or equality diminished by any re- ligion or the lack of any; and has forbidden the establishment of any religion by law, and the imposition of any burden for a religious pretext on any. But the State school teacher is her SECtTLARlZED EDUCATION. 227 official, and teaches bj her authority. All school-offiL-ials ileiivo their authority from State laws, hence all their functions are as truly State actions as those Df the sheriff in hanging, or the judge in sentencing a murderer. Especially is the school fund, raised l)y taxation, the common and equal property of the peo- ple. But as our people are divided among many religions, that money ought no more to be used in schools to teach one religion in preference to the others, than in a church establishment. Once the people of a small State, like Connecticut, were so homoge- neous, that any dissentient minority was minute, and the dom- inant religion was taught "on State account.'' without any protest loud enough to be inconvenient. But the mixture of our people, and especially the strength and audacitj' of popery, now makes all this ditTerent. Papists make an effective issue, arguing that the State must not use the people's money to teach King James's version, which they, a part of the people, believe heretical. Zealous I'r^testants, usually zealous State school men, try to tiout this plea. But wauld they assent to the State's teaching their children, with their money, the version which says: ''Except ye do penance ye shall all likewise perish?" They exclaim : "That is an erroneous version, while King James's is faithful." Theologically that is doubtless true. But the very point of the State's covenant with the people is, that the State shall not judge, either way, of that proposition. It has been bargained that, in the State arena, we shall respect papists' religious views, preciseh' as we require them to respect ours. Suppose them, some day, in as large a majority in some State as PrDtestants are in New England, would we acquiesce in their forcing the study of the Douay version in State schools'.' So, unless we admit that our might makes our right, we ought not to inflict the parallel wrongs on the Jews, Mohammedans, Athe- ists, and Buddhists among us, because they are still few. It is sought to parr}' this conclusion thus: While all re- ligions are equal, and no one established, the State is not an atheistic institute, but must ground itself in the will of God, which is the standard of all rights. That the State is an ethical institute and for ethical ends. That hence it enjoins the Saib- bath, punishes blasphemy, etc. Tliat eut God is the only Lord of the conscience; this soul is his miniature likeness; his will is the source of obli- gation to it; likeness to him is its perfection, and religion is the science of the soul's relations to God. Let these statements be placed together, and the theological and educational processes appear so cognate that they cannot be separated. Hence it is that the common sense of mankind has ever invoked the guid- ance of the minister of religion for the education of youth; in India the Brahmin, in Turkey the Imam, in Jewry the Raibbi, and in Christian lands the pastor. So. everywhere, the sacred books have always been the prime text-books. The only excep- tion in the world is that which Rome has made for herself by her intolerable abuse of her powers. Does the secularist an- swer that this sacerdotal education results in a Boeotian char- acter and puerile culture? Yes, where the sacred books are false Scriptures, but not w^here it is the Bible which is the text- book. So that these instances prove that the common sense of SECULARIZED EDUCATION". 233 mankind has been at bottom correct, and lias only beoii abused, in some instances, ibv imposture. The soul is a spiritual monad, an indivisible, spiritual unit, without parts, as without extension. Those powers, which we name as separate faculties, are only modes of function with which this unit is qualified, ditt'erentiated by the distincti dus of the objects on which they operate. The central power is still one. From these truths it would appear that it cannot be suc- cessfully cultivated by patches. We cannot have tiie intellectual workman polish it at one place, and the spiritual at another. A succession of objects may be presented ta the soul, to evoke and discipline its several powers; yet the unity of the beinji^ would seem to necessitate a unity in its successful culture. It is the Christian ideas which are most stimulating? and en- i\obling to the soul. He who must needs omit them from his teaching is robbed of the right arm of his strength. Where sliall he get such a definition of virtue as is presented in the repealed character of God? Where so ennobling a ])icture of benevolence as that presented in Christ's sacrifice for his ene- mies? Can the conception of the inter-stellar spaces so ex- l)and the mind as the thought of an infinite (Jod, an eternal existence, and an everlasting destiny? Every line of true knowledge must find its completeness in its convergency to God, even as every ibeam of daylight leads the eye to the sun. If religion be excluded from our study, ev- ery process of thought will be arrested before it reaches its ])roper g jal. The structure of thought must remain a truncated cone, with its proper apex lacking. Richard liaxter has ner- vously expressed this truth."" Third, If secular education is to be made consistently and honestly non-Christian, then all its more important branches must be omitted, or they must submit to a mutilation and falsi- fication, far worse than absolute omission. It is hard to con- ceive how a teacher is to keep his covenant faithfully with the State so to teach history, cosmogony, psychology, ethics, the laws of nations, as to insinuate nothing favorable or unfavor- able touching the prefei-red beliefs of either the evangelical Christians, Papists, Socinians, Deists, Pantheists, Materialists, or Fetisch worshippers, who claim equal rights under American *-Reformed Pastor " pp. 91, 96. 234 SECULARIZED EDUCATION. institutions. His paedagogics must indeed be ''the pla.v of Hamlet, with the part of Hamlet omitted." Shall the secular education leave the young citizen totally Ignorant of his own ancestry? But how shall he learn the story of those struggles, through which Englishmen achieved tliose liberties which the colonies inherited, without understanding the fiery persecutions of the Protestants under "Bloody Mary," over which the Pope's own Legate, Cardinal Pole, was sent to preside? How shall the sons of Huguenot sires in New York, Virginia, or Carolina know for what their fathers forsook beautiful France, to hide themselves in the Northern snows or the mala- rious w^oods of the South, and read nothing of the violation of the ''Edict of Nantes," the "Dragonnades," and the wholesale assassination of St. Bartholomew's day, in honor of which an "infallible" predecessor of the Pope nangTe Deums and struck medals? Or, if the physicist attempt to ascend farther in man's history, can he give the genesis of earth and man, without in- timating whether Moses or Huxley is his prophet? Or can the science of moral obligation be established in impartial oversight of (rod's relation to it. and of the (piestion whether or not his will defines and grounds all human duty? Or can a Grotius or a Vattel settle the rights of nature and nations without either affirming along with the Apostles that "God hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed and the bounds of their habitation," or else denying it with the infidel ethnologist? How much of the noblest literature must be os- tracized, if this plan is to be honestly carried out? The State teacher must not mention to his pupil Shakespeare, nor Bacon, nor Milton, nor Macaulay. The Index Expurgatorius of free democracy will be far more stringent than that of despotic Rome! But it is not necessary to multiply these instances. They show that Christian truths and facts are so woven into the very warp and woof of the knowledge of Americans, and con- stitute so beneficial and essential a part of our civilization, that the secular teacher, who impartially avoids either the affirma- tion or denial of them, must reduce his teaching to tlie bare giv- ing of those scanty rudiments, which are, as we have seen, not knowledge, but the mere signs of knowledge. Does some one say that practically this showing is exagger- SECULARIZED EDUCATlOlSr. 235 ated, for he is teacliiug- some purely secular course, without any such niainiing of his suibjects or prejudicing of Christianity? If his teaching is more than a temporary dealing with some cor- ner of education, the fact will be found to be that it is tacitly anti-Christian; overt assaults are not made; but there is a studied avoidance which is in effect hostile. Tiiere can be no neutral position between two extremes, where there is no middle ground, but "a great gulf fixed." Fourth, Of all rightful human action the will is the execu- tive and the conscience the directive faculty. Unless these be purified and enlightened, to enhance the A'igor of the, soul's other actions by training is -'but superfiuous mischief. If in a ship the compass be lost and the pilot blind, it is better that there should not be a great force to move her machinery. The more energetic its motion, the greater is the likelihood the ship will speedily be upon the breakers. Surely this is sufficient to show {j the reflecting mind that right moral inculcation can- not be separated at any jM)int or for any time from the intel- lectual, without mischief. One very obvious and yet not the weighiest application of this truth is to the discipline of the school itself. No training of any faculty takes place without some government. On what moral basis shall the teacher who wholly suppresses all appeal to religion rest that authority which he must exercise in the school-room? He will find it necessary to say to the pupil, "Be diligent. Be obedient. Lie not. Defraud not," in order that he may learn his secular knowledge. But on whose au- thority? There is but one ground of moral obligation, the will of God, and among the people of this country he wlio does not find the disclosure of that will in tlie Scriptures, most often finds it nowhere. But this teaclier must not inculcate this Bible, Then his mere might must make his right, or else the might of the iparent, or of the magistrate, to whose delegated authority he points back. Or his apjteal may he to mere self- interest! Will this government be wholesome for a youth's sjul? But from a pupil the youth becomes a citizen. He passes under wider and more complex obligations. The end of the State schooling is to fit him for this. The same question re- curs, with transcendent moment, On what Ibasis of right shall '236 SECULAEIZED EDUCATION. these duties rest? As a man, it is presumable he will act as lie was taught while a boy. Of course then the grounds of obliga- tion employed with him in school should be the ones he is to recognize in adult life. In the State school a non-Christian standard alone could be given him. He cannot be expected now to rise to any better; he may sink to a lower, seeing the ground then given him had no foundation under it. That is to say, young Americans are to assume their respon- sibilities with pagan morals, for these are just what human rea- son attains from the non-Christian standard. Will this suf- fice to sustain American institutions? One may say: Natural theism may deduce quite a high ethical code, as witness the Greek philosophy. So could a man who rightly construed the data of his consciousness be an atheist; even the atheist might find in them proof that conscience ought to govern. But he does not, nor does the pagan reason acf as Epictetus specu- lated .Let us begin to legislate for the people as they ought to be, and we shall have a fine card-castle. In fact, Americans, taken as we find them, who do not get their moral restraints from the Bible, have none. If, in our moral training of the young, we let go the 'Thus saith the Lord," we shall have no hold left. The training which does not base duty on Christian- ity is, for us, practically immoral. If testimony to this truth is needed, let the venerable Dr. Griffin, of a former generation, be heard. ''To educate the mind of a bad man without correct- ing his morals is to put a sword into the hands of a maniac." Let John Locke be heard. "It is virtue, then, direct virtue, which is the hard and valuable part to be aimed at in educa- tion." ******* ''If virtue and a well-tempered soul be not got and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious habits, lan- guages and science, and all the other accomplishments of edu- cation, will be to no purpose but to make the worse or more dan- gerous man." Let Dr. Francis Wayland be heard. ''Intel- lectual cultivation may easily exist without the existence of virtue or love of right. In this case its only effect is to stim- ulate desire; and this, unrestrained by the love of right, must eventually overturn the social fabric which it at first erected." Last, let Washington be heard, in his farewell address, where he teaches that the virtue of the citizens is the only basis for 8ECTTLARIZED EDUCATION. 237 social safety, and that the Christian religion is the only ade- quate basis for that virtue. But, is not mental culture per se elevating? It is hard for us to give up this flattery, because hitherto education has been more or less Christian. The minister has been the American school-master. But are not the educated the more elevated? Yes. For the reason just given, and fDr another; not that their mental culture made them seek higher morals, but their (and their parents') higher morals made them seek mental culture! We are prone to put the cart before the horse. Again I cite evidence. James Anthony Froude, a witness by no means friendly to orthodoxy, quoting Miss Florence Nightingale, em- phatically endorses her opinion, that the ordinary, as the nat- ural effect of the mere communication of secular knowledge to youths, is only to suggest the desire for more numerous, and, for the bulk of men whose destiny is inevitably narrow, illicit objects of desire. But they plead: In teaching the youth to know of more objects of desire you also teach him to know more restraining considerations. The fatal answer is that knowledge does not rule the heart, tout conscience (if anything does); mere knowledge, without God's fear, makes desire grow faster than discretion. 8ays i^ir Henry Bulwer: ''I do not place much con- fidence in the philosopher who pretends that the knowledge which develops the passions is an instrument for their suppres- sion, or that where there are the most desires there is likely to be the most order, and the most abstinence in their gratifica- tion.'' Again, the soul should grow symmetrically. Let the boughs of a tree grow, while the roots (without actual disease) stand still; the first gale would blow it over, because of the dis- proportion of its parts, Fifth, We need the best men to teach our children. The best are true Christians, who carry their religion into every- thing. Such men neither can nor will bind themselves to hold so influential a relation to precious souls for wlioui Christ died, and make no effort to save them. So the tendency must be towards throwing State schools into the hands of half-hearted Christians or of contemptuous unbelievers. Can such be even trusted with an important secular task? Railroads persist in breaking the Sabbath; so they must be served on the track ex- clusively by profane Sabbath-breakers or truckling professors 238 SECULARIZED EDUCATION. of religion. The consequence is, they are scourged with negli- gent officials, drunken engineers, and defaulting cashiers. So the State will fall into the hands of teachers who will not even teach secular learning honestly; money will be wasted, and the schools will become corrupting examples to their own pupils of slight- ed work and abused trusts. Sixth, To every Christian citizen, the most conclusive argu- ment against a secularized education is contained in his own creed touching human responsibility. According to this, obli- gation to God covers all of every man's being and actions. Even if the act be correct in outward form, which is done without any reference to his will, he will judge it a shortcoming. ''The ploughing of the wicked is sin." The intentional end to which our action is directed determines its moral complexion su- premely. Second, Our Savior has declared that there is no moral neutrality: ''He that is not with him is against him, and he that gathereth not with him scattereth abroad." Add now the third fact, that every man is born in a state of alienation from Grod; that practical enmity and atheism are the natural outgrowth of this disposition; that the only remedy for this natural disease of man's spirit is gospel truth. The com- parison of these truths will make it perfectly plain that a no//- Christian training is literally an anti Christian training. This is the conclusive argument. The rejoinder is at- tempted; that Christians hold this theology as church mem- bers, and not as citizens; and that we have ourselves urged that the State is not an evangelical agent, and its proper business is not to convert souls from original sin. True, but neither has it a right to become an anti-evangelical agency, and resist the work of the spiritual commonwealth. While the State does not authorize the theological beliefs of the Christian citizens, neith- er has it a right to war against tliem. While we have no right to ask the State to propagate our theology, we have a right to demand that it shall not oppose it. But to educate souls thus is to oppose it, because a non-Christian training is an anti-Chris- tian training. It may be urged again, that this result, if evil, will not be lessened by the State's ceasing to teach at all, for then the training of youth will be, so fas as she is concerned, equally non-Christian. The answer is, that it is one thing to tol- erate a wrong as done by a party over whom we have not law- secularized'education. 239 ful control, but wholly another to perpetrate that wronj;- our- selves. For the State thus to do what she ought to rondeuin in the godless parent, though she be not auth;:>rized to interfere would be the sin of "■framing fnischief by a Imv'' the. very trait of that ''throne of iniquity" with wliich the Lord cannot have fellowship. It is objected again, that if the State may govern and pun- ish, which are moral functions, she may also teach. If we are prepared for the theDcratic idea of the State, which makes it the universal human assiociation, To I lav of human organisms, bound to do everything for society from mending a road or draining a marsh up to supporting a religion, then we can con- clude thus. But then consistency will add to State schools a State religion, a beneficed clergy, a religious test for office, and State power wielded to suppress theological as well as social er- ror. Again, while secular ruling and punishing are ethical func- tions, they are sufficiently grounded in the light of natural the- ism. But teaching is a spiritual function — -in the sense defined — and for teaching beings fallen, and in moral ruin, natural the- ism is wholly inadequate, as witness the state of pagan society. Christian citizens are entitled (not by the State, but by one higher, God) to hold that the only teaching adequate for this fallen soul is redemption. But of this the State, as such, knows nothing. As God's institute for realizing secular justice, she does know enough of moral right to be a praise to them that do well and a terror to evil-doers. The most plausible evasion is this : Since education is so comprehensive a work, why may there not be a ''division of labor?'' Let the State train the intellect and the Christian parent and the Church train the conscience and heart in the home and the house of worship. \Yitli this solution some Christians profess themselves satisfied. Of course such an ar- rangement would not be so bad as the neglect of the heart by both State and parent. Points already made contain fatal answers. Since con- science is the regulative faculty of all. lie who must not deal with conscience cannot deal well with any. Since the soul is a monad, it cannot be equipj)ed as to ditterent parts at different times and places, as a man might get his hat at one shop and his boots at another; it lins no parts. Since all nuilis converge 240 SECULARIZED EDUCATION. towards God, lie who is not to name God, must have all his teachings fragmentary; he can only construct a truncated fig- ure. In history, ethics, philosophy, jurisprudence, religious facts and propositions are absolutely inseparable. The neces- sary discipline of a school-room and secular fidelity of teachers call for religion, or we miss of them. And no person nor organ- ism has a right to seem to say to a responsible, immortal soul, "In this large and intelligent and even ethical segment of your doings you are entitled to be godless.'' For this teaching State must not venture to disclaim that construction of its own pro- ceeding to its own pupil. That disclaimer would be a religious inculcation! But farther: Why do people wish the State to interfere in educating? Because she has the power, the revenues to do it better. Then, unless her intervention Is to be a cheat, her sec- ularized teaching must be some very Impressive thing. Then its impression, which is to be non-Christian, according to the theory, will be too preponderant in the j'outh's soul, to be counterpoised by the feebler inculcation of the seventh day. The natural heart is carual, and leans to the secular and away from the gospel truths. To the ingenuous youth, quickened by animating studies, his teacher Is 'Magnus Apollo, and according to this plan he must be to his ardent young votary wholly a heathen deity. The Christian side of the luminary, if there is one, must not be revealed to the worshipper! Then how pale and cold will the infrequent ray of gospel truth appear when it falls on him upon the seventh day! In a word, to the suc- cessful pupil under an efficient teacher, the school is his world. Make that godless, and his life Is made godless. If it be asked again: Why may not the State save itself trouble by leaving all education to parents? The answer is, Be- cause so many parents are too incapable or careless to be trusted with the task. Evidently, if most parents did the work well enough, the State would have no motive to meddle. Then the very taison d'etre of the State school is in this large class of negligent parents. But man is a carnal being, alienated from godliness, whence all those who neglect their children's mental, will, a fortiori, neglect their spiritual, culture. Hence we must expect that, as to the very class which constitutes the pretext for the State's interposition, the fatally one-sided culture she give SECtTLARTZED EDUCATION. 24l will remain one-sided. She has no right t3 presiiine any tiling else. Bnt. if may be asked: Is not there the churcli to take lip rliis pai-r. neglected by bntli secularized State and godless parent? The answer is, The State, thus secularized, cannol claim to know the Chuch as an ally. Besides, if the Church be found sufficiently omnipresent, willing, and efficient, through the commonwealth, to be thus relied on, why will she not inspire in parents and individual philanthropists zeal enough to care for the whole education of youth? Thus again, the whole raison d'etre for the State's intervention would be gone. In fact the Church does not and cannot repair the mis- chief which her more powerful, rich, and ubiquitous rival, the secularized State, is doing in thus giving, under the guise of a non-Christian, an anti-Christian training. It is also well known to practical men that State common schools obstruct parental and philanthropic effort. Thus, par- ents who, if not meddled with, would follow the impulse of en- lightened Christian neighbors, their natural guides, in creating a jjrivate school for their children, to make it both primary and classical, now always stop at the primary. "The school tax must be paid anyhow, which is heavy, and that is all they can do." Next, children of poor parents who showed aspiration for learning found their opportunity for classical tuition near their homes, in the innumerable private schools created by parental interest and public spirit, and kindly neighborhood charity nev- er suffered such deserving youths to be arrested for the mere lack of tuition. Now, in country places not populous enough to sustain "State High Schools," all such 3'ouths must stop at the rudiments. Thus the country loses a multitude of the most use- ful educated men. Next, the best men being the natural lead- ers of their neighbors, would draw a large part of the children of the class next them upward into the private schools created for their own fannlies, which, for the same reason, were sure to be Christian schools. The result is, that while a larger num- ber of children is brought into primar3- schools, and while the statistics of the illiterate are somewhat changed, to the great delectation of shallow philanthropists, the number of you lbs well educated in branches above mere rudiments, and especial- ly of those brought under daily Christian training, is diminish ed. In cities (where public opinion is chiefly manufacliircdj 242 SECULARIZED EDUCATION. high schools may he sustained, and this evil obviated so far as secular tuition goes. But in the vast country regions, literary culture is lowered just as it is extended. It is chiefly the coun- try which fills the useful professions — town youths go into frade. The actual and consistent secularization of education is in- admissible. But nearly all public men and divines declare that the State schools are the glory of America, that they are a finality, and in no event to be surrendered. And we have seen that their com- plete secularization is logically inevitable. Christians must pre- pare themselves then, for the following results: All prayers, catechisms, and BilDles will ultimately be driven out of the schools. But this will not satisfy Papists, who obstinately — and correctly were their religion correct — insist that education shall be Christian for their children. This power over the hopes and fears of the demagogues will secure, what Protestants can- not consistently ask for, a separate endownment out of the com- mon funds. Eome will enjoy, relatively to Protestantism, a grand advantage in the race of propagandism; for humanity al- ways finds out, sooner or later, that it cannot get on without a religion, and it will take a false one in preference to none. Infi- delity and practical ungodliness will become increasingly preva- lent among Protestant youth, and our churches will have a more arduous contest for growth if not for existence. Perhaps American Protestants might be led, not to abandon but to revise their opinions touching education, by recalling the conditions under which the theory of State education came to be first accepted in this country. This came about in the col- onies which at the same time held firmly to a union of Church and State. The Massachusetts and Connecticut colonies, for instance, honorable pioneers in State education in this country, were decidedly theoretic in their constitution. The Reformed religion was intimately interwoven. So all the Protestant States of Europe, whose successful example is cited, as Scotland and Prussia, have the Protestant as an established religion. This and State primary education have always been parts of one con- sistent system in the minds of their rulers in Church and State. A secularized education, such as that which is rapidly becoming the result of our State school system, would have been indig- SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 243 naiitly roprobated by the Wintlirops and Mathers, the Kuoxs, Melvilles, and Chalmers, and, it is presumed, by the Tholucks and even Bismart-ks of those eommonwtMltlis, wliieh are poinlc;! to as jireeedcnts and models. It is submitted, whether it is ex- actly candid to quote the oj)inions and acts of all these great men, for what is, in fact, another thing- from what they advo- cated? Knox, for instance, urged the primary education of every child in Scotland 'by the State. But it was because the State he had helped to reconstruct there was clothed with a recognized power of teaching the Reformed religion (through the allied Church), and because it was therefore able, in teaching the child to read, also to teach it the Scriptures and the Assem- bly's Catechism. Had Knox seen himself compelled to a sever- ance of Church and State (which he would have denounced as wicked and paganish), and therefore to the giving by the State of a secularized education, which trained the intellect without the conscience or heart, his heroic tongue would have given no uncertain sound. Seeing then that wise and good men in adopting and successfully working this system, did so only for communities which united Church and State, and mental and spiritual training, the question for candid consideration is: ^Vhat modifications the theory- should receive, when it is im- ported into commonwealths whose civil governments have ab- solutely secularized themselves and made the union of the sec- ular and spiritual powers illegal and impossible? The answer may, perhaps, be found by going back to a first j)rinciple hinted in the outset of this discussion. Is the direc- tion of the education of children either a civic or an ecclesiasti- cal function? Is it not propei'ly a domestic and parental func- tion? First, we read in holy writ that God ordained the family by the union of one woman to one man, in one flesh, for life, for the declared end of "seeking a godly seed." Does not this imply that he looks to parents, in whom the family is founded, as the responsible agents of this result? He has also in the fifth Com- mandment connected the child proximately, not with either presbyter or magistrate, but with the parents, which, of course, confers on them the adequate and the prior authority. This ar- gument appears again in the very order of the historical gene- sis of the family and State, as well as of the visible Church. The family was first. Parents at the outset were the only social 244 SECULARIZED EDUCATION. heads existing. The right rearing of children by them was in order to the right creation of the other two institutes. It thus appears that naturally the parents' auhority over their children could not have come by deputation from either State or visible Church, any more than the water in a fountain by derivation from its reservoir below. Second, the dispensation of Divine Providence in the course of nature shows where the power and duty of educating are deposited. That ordering is that ///rovided for the parents social and moralinfluencesso unique, so extensive, that no other earthly pow'er, or all others together, can substitute them in fashioning the child's character. The home example, armed with the venerable authority of the father and the moth- er, repeated amidst the constant intimacies of the fireside, sec- onded by filial reverence, ought to have the most potent plastic force over character. And this unique power Grod has guarded by an affection, the strongest, most deathless, and most unself- ish, which remains in the breast of fallen man. Until the mag- istrate can feel a love, and be nerved by it to a self-denjdng care and toil, equal to that of a father and a mother, he can show no pretext for assuming any parental function. But the best argument here is the heart's own instinct. No parent can fail to resent, with a righteous indignation, the in- trusion of any authority between his conscience and con vie tions and the soul of his child. If the father conscientiously believes that his ow^n creed is true and righteous and obliga- tory before Grod, then he must intuitively regard the intrusion of any other power betw^een him and his minor child, to cause the rejection of that creed, as a usurpation. The freedom of mind of the child alone, when become an adult, and his fa- ther's equal, can justly interpose. If this usurpation is made by the visible church, it is felt to be in the direction of popery, if by the magistrate, in the direction of depotism. It may Ibe said that this theory makes the parent sovereign, during the child's mental and moral minority, in the moulding of his opinions and character, whereas, seeing the parent is fallible, and may form his child amiss, there ought to be a su- perior authority to superintend and intervene. But the com- SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 245 plete answer is, that inasmucli as the supreme authority must be placed somewhere, God has indicated that, on the whole, no place is so safe for it as the hands of the parent, who has the supreme love for the child and the superior opportunit3\ But many parents nevertheless neglect or pervert the power? Yes, and does the State never neglect and pervert its powers? With the lessons of history to teach us the horrible and almost universal abuses of power in the hands of civil rulers, that ques- tion is conclusive. In the case of an unjust or godless State, the evil would be universal and sweeping. Doubtless God has deposited the duty in the safest place. The competitions of the State and the Church for the edu- cating power have been so engrossing that we have almost for- gotten the parent, as the third and the rightful competitor. And now many look at his claim almost contemptuously. Be- cause the civic and the ecclesiastical spheres are so much wider and more populous than his, they are prone to regard it as every way inferior. Have we not seen that the smaller circle is, in fact, the most original and best authorized of the three? Will any thinking man admit that he derives his right to marry, to be a father, from the permission of the State? Yet there is an illu- sion here, because civic constitutions confer on the State certain police functions, iso to speak, concerning marriage and families. So there are State laws concerning certain ecclesiastical belong- ings. But what Protestant concedes therefrom that his re- ligious rights were either conferred, or can be rightfully taken away, by civil authority? The truth is, that God has immediate- ly and authoritatively instituted three organisms for man on earth, the State, the visible Thurch, and the Family, and these are co-ordinate in rights and mutual independence. The State or Church has no more right to invade the parental sphere than the parent to invade theirs. The right distribution of all duties and power between the three circles w'ould be the complete solu- tion of that problem of good government which has never yet been solved with full success. It is vital to a true theory of hu- man rights, that the real indei)endence of the smallest yet high- est realm, that of the parent, be respected. Has it not been proved that the direction of education is one of its prerogatives? But does not the State's right to exist imply the right to secure all the conditions of its existence? And as parents may 246 SECULARIZED EDUCATION. SO pervert or neglect education as to rear a generation incom- petent to preserve their civil institutions, does not this give the State control over education? I answer, first, it is not even a pretext for the State's invading the parental sphere any farther than the destructive neglect exists, that is, to stimulate, or help, or compel the neglectful parents alone. Second, precisely the same argument may authorize the State to intrude into the spiritual circle and establish and teach a religion. But the sophism is here: It is assumed that a particular form of civil institutions has a prescriptive right to perpetuate itself. It has none. So the American theory teaches, in asserting for the people the inherent right to change their institutions. Did 3ur republican fathers hold that any people have ever the right to subvert the moral order of society" ordained by God and na- ture? Surely not. Here then is disclosed that distinction be- tween the moral order and any particular civil order, %o often overlooked, but so eloquently drawn by Cousin. So far is it from being true that the civil authority is entitled to shape a people to suit itself; the opposite is true, the people should shape the civil authority. It is a maxim in political philosophy, as in mechanics, that when an organism is applied to a function for which it was not designed, it is injured au"d the function is ill done. Here is a farmer who has a mill designed and well fitted to grind his meal. He resolves that it shall also thresh his sheaves. The consequence is that he has wrete-hed threshing and a crippled mill. I repeat, God designed the State to be the organ for se- curing secular justice. When it turns to teaching or preaching it repeats the farmers' experience. The Chinese Government and people are an example in point. The Government has been for a thousand years educating the people for its own ends. The result is what we see. Government powerfully atfects national character by the mode in which it performs its proper functions, and if the ad- ministration is e(iuitable. pure and free, it exalts the i>eople. But it is by the indirect influence. This is all it can do well. As for the other part of the national elevation (an object which ev- ery good man must desire), it must come from other agencies; from the dispensation of Almighty Providence; from fruitful ideas and herGic acts with which he inspires the great men SECULARIZED EDUCATION. 247 whom lie sovei-eiguly gives to the nations he designs to bless; chietiy fi-oui the energy of divine Truth and the Christian vir- tues, first in individuals, next in families, and last in visible churches. Let us suijipose, then, that both State and Church recognize the parent as the educating power; that the}' assume towards him an ancilhuy instead of a dominating attitude; that the State shall encourage individual and voluntary effarts by hold- ing the impartial shield of legal protection over all property which may be devoted to education; that it shall encourage all private efforts; and that in its eleemosynary character it shall aid those whose poverty and misfortunes disable them from properly rearing their own children. Thus the insoluble prob- lems touching religion in State schools would be solved, because the State was not the responsible creator of the schools, but the parents. Our educational system might present less me- dia nical symmetry, but it would be more flexible, more practi- cal, and more useful. KOBERT L. DAB^^EY. WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA.' History of the Rise and Fall of the Slave Foiver in America. By Henry Wilson. Boston: James R. Osgood &■> Company, 3 Vols., 8vo.,pp. 67O, 720, and y "J 4. This ponderous work is what the well-iuformed readct would expect from its author. The first volume professes to treat the rise of slavery in the United States, from its begin- nings up to the admission of Texas. The second continues the history of the sectional controversies about it, to the election of Lincoln. The third treats of the war and its results. Of this liuge '"partisan document/' it may be justly said, that its staple material is sophistry and misrepresentation, and its very title an insult and falsehoDd. In the sense of the au- thor, there has been no "slave power" in America. It suited the purposes of the consx)irators among whom Mr. Wilson acted all his political life, ta advance their project of riding into sec- tional domination by means of the Abolition phrensy, to imag- ine a "slave power" in the South, which cherished the counter- part design to his: that of usurping the authority of tlie United States to extend slavery, at the expense of others' rights, over rhe whole country. But in fact, the States whose citizens owned slaves, never were a "slave power" in any sense but this: that they endeavored to employ the rights guaranteed to them by the laws to protect their legal property; just as Ohio sought to prDtect the property of her citizens in their swine; Kentucky hers in their mules; and just as Mr. Wilson sought to protect his property in shoes. The only differences were that the South never imitated his protection of his shoe-making profits by par- tial and dishonest tariffs; and that those interested in the swine, the mules, and the shoes, were not compelled to a constant self- defense, because they did not experience from us the constant and lawless assaults on their rights, which Mr. Wilson's set aimed at our industries and lawful interests. 1 Appeared in Soii'krrn Planter and F'^rmpr, July, 189r. 248 Wilson's SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA. 249 The book, whose very title is false, may be safely expected to furnish abundance of similar material in its padres. The reader has to go a very short distance, indeed, to find this ex- pectation verified. The preface, in its first paragraphs, informs us that in 1860, 1861, "treasonable menaces had ripened into treasonable deeds. A rebellion of gigantic proportions burst upon the nation with suddenness and fierceness." * * * "These crimes against the peace, the unity, and the life of the nation, and these sacrifices of property, of health, and of life, were the inflictions of the slavenpower, in its maddened efforts to make perpetual its hateful dominion.'' Tliese six lines con- tain just seven manifest misstatements. There was no "na- tion"; for the United States were then a confederation of sov- ereign i^tates, and consequently there was no "national life," in ]Mr. Wilson's sense. Secondly, it was hence impossible that one of these sovereign constituents could commit "treason" against its own creature, the common agent. Hence, thirdly, there could be no rebellion in the case. Fourthly, the resistance of the Southern States against usurpation was not sudden; it had been uniformly and long foretold, and was the deliberate and fore-declared result of the vital aggressions aimed at their ex- istence. Neither, fifthly, was there any "fierceness'' about it, in Mv. Wilson's sense. The South jjrosecuted ils defensive war with a humanity and moderation chivalrous, and, in the light of subsequent events, even Quixotic. Mr. Wilson's imagination had evidently not recovered, when he penned this preface in 1872, from the imprsssion of "fierceness'' derived from his own panic at Bull Run, when he fled so fast from the "rebels" lie had come to see conquered. Sixthh% none of the miseries of this war were inflicted by the States of the South, whom Mr. Wilson chooses to stigmatize as the "slave power"; for they desired onlj' to be let alone in possession of their eonstitutiouiil rights. The war was caused deliberately by Mr. Wilson and his party, who, as none know better than he knew, with calculated malice invaded our rights, goaded us to resistance, and refused all compromise, in order to avail themselves of the Abolilion l)hrensy to revolutionize the government, estal)lish their own faction in power, and gratify their spite against the men whom they could never forgive for being injured by them. The South made the war only in the sense in which the lamb of the fable 250 Wilson's slave power in America. muddied the stream bv drinking belDW the wolf. Seventhly, and last, the Southern States never had any "dominion," hate- ful or otherwise, to perpetuate, and never sought any. They never aimed to be anything but what the laws entitled them to be, coequal parties to an equitable confederation. The only "dominion" they ever had was this: that their statesmen had sd commended themselves by their ability, patriotism, purity, and disinterestedness to the confederacy, that the majority of the Northern as well as the Southern citizens had preferred them to demagogues of the Wilson type. Hinc illae lachrymael The true solution of these three ponderous tomes is, that they are the howl of his malice at the American people's preference for Southern gentlemen over such as him, and of- his gratified re- venge for the slight. He begins his "history" (I) Vol. 1., Chap. 1., by ascribing the existence of slavery to men's selfish desire to live at other people's expense. This solution suits the slavery of his own State very well; for they, having no aliens nor savages among them by providential dispensation, went all the way to Africa to steal them for slaves. But the accjunt which the Bible gives of the origin of slavery (Gen. ix. 25-27), is, that it came as the remedy for the depravity of the enslaved; and that it was the righteous means ordained by God to protect civilized society against the vice, laziness, theft, and violence of degraded per- sons, whose wickedness and ignorance rendered them unsafe depositories for the franchises of citizenship. Mr. Wilson is an ardent specimen of that species of '"Christian" whose Bible is no rule when it cros.ses his spite or his crotchet. The Bible ac- count of the matter is one expressly appropriate to the South; for we, when we became free commonwealths in 1776, retained slavery as the necessary and just remedy for the presence of the savage Africans, with whom the ''Christians" of Xew Eng- land and Old England, those simon-pure Abolitionists, had de- luged us against our protest. The author then proceeds: "American slavery * * * converted a being endowed with conscience, reason, affections, sympathies, and hopes, into a chattel. It sunk a free moral agent, with rational attributes and immortal aspirations, to merchandise. It made him a beast of burden in the field of toil, an outcast in social life, a cipher in the courts of law, and a WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA. 251 pariah, in the bouse of Grod. His master could dispose of liis person at will," etc., etc. Here, again, the errors are at least as numerous as the propositions. American slavery did not make the moral per- sonality of the bondsman ''a chattel," but established properly in his labor; precisely the thing which Mr. Wilson possessed in his shoe factory operatives, in a much more selfish and grinding form than our system. We did not make the African a ''beast of burden in the field," but a laborer, more humanely treated than ^Ir. \Vilson's hirelings. We did not make him an "out- cast in social life"; he possessed among his equals abundant social ties and enjoj'ments, and was, moreover, connected by real and tender domestic sj-mpathies with his master's family; a thing which Mr. WilsDn never dreamed of extending to the families of his hirelings. The bondsman was not "a cipher in the courts of law." His life, person, and chastity were ishielded by the same law which protected his master; and his rights had such full recognition here, that he could sue his own master, with every advantage in the litigation, for his own liberty, if he could show any suspicion 3f unjust detention in (bondage. He was not ''a pariah in the house of God." He worshipped and partook of the Lord's Supper in the same sanctuary with his master; and with at least as little social distinction as exist- ed between Mr. Wilson and the white hireling who had been, perhaps, his late comrade an the shoe-bench. The master could not "dispose of his bondsman's person at will." The law^ among us secured his personal safety, life, chastity, Sabbath-rest, and subsistence, against his own master. Now, to appreciate the wickedness of this train of atrocious libels, one must remember that this man, if he ever took pains to inquire into the real na^ ture of what he was denouncing, must have met with refuta- tions of them all at his first step, and that, unless he literally stopped his ears, he must have often heard them disclaimed and refuted in the Senate of the United States by Mr. Calhoun, Mr. Hunter, and Mr. Chestnut. The reader will be curious to know what the author does with the slave-holding and slave-trading record of his awn State, both of which were of the blackest and most diabolical sort. To assume that an American Senator of Mr. Wilson's type knew something of the authentic history of his own country, might be 252 Wilson's slave power in America. a very violent surmise. But it would appear that this niau knew he was deceiving; because he refers expressly, Vol. I., p. 6, to ]\Xoore's "Slavery in Massachusetts," a book which tells the plain story. He glozes about the protest of one or two old gen- tlemen, in the early days of the colony, and some abortive and deceitful legislation against the slave trade. He quotes quite at large the protests of the Quakers (whom Massachusetts was then persecuting!) He informs us that little Rhode Island was actively engaged in the slave trade, and that Newport was a great emporium for this nefarious traflQc. But he takes care not to tell us that in 1637, when the Plymouth colony was but sev- enteen years old, it made trial of its infant strength by sending out the slave ship ''Desire;" that the most fiendish laws were de- liberately passed and habitually enforced, for kidnapping, en- i.'laving, and deporting the Indians near them, from whose hos- pitality they had secured their homes; that the "General Court" of Massachusetts recognized the trade as legal, and took a share in its profits, in the shape of an impost; and that the United States census of 1790 found six thousand slaA'es in this little and barren territory. These facts are all substantiated by Moore, AVinthrop's Journal, and other well-known authors. But we pass to more recent facts. Mr. Wilson, Vol. II, Chap. XLV., of course lauds the vulgar old murderer, John Brown, as one of the purest, noblest, and most disinterested of heroes and Christian martyrs. He has no objection to the crimes of the old cut-throat, save that they pursued the wrong method for assailing slavery, and prejudiced the character of the party to which they belonged. The Senator does not claim am' credit for Brown's exploits; but he does not seem to care at all to veil the fact that he was cognisant of his plans, and took no effectual steps to preA^ent their execution. That is to say, this sworn Senator of the Ignited States sat silent while he knew that treason against not only the State of Virginia, but tlie United States, was brewing; and he did nothing to arrest the crime, save dissuade from it on grounds of party policy. It was well for his neck that the laws of the United States did not retain the doctrine of constructive treason, and that the Con- stitution and Government were so soon destroyed; else the his- torian might have shared the fate of his hero. As a specimen of his historical accuracy, we may note, Vol. k'' Wilson's slave power in America. 553 III., Chap. XII., where he assures us that the "capture of Wasli- iugton was among the first things laid down upon the rebel pro- gramme.'' * * * arpQ gg-^g ^Yie capital and all the depart- juents of the Government; to hold Mr. Buchanan in abject sur- veillance during the remainder of his term, or, if he should prove too refractorj-^, to eject him for a more serviceable tool; to prevent the inauguration of Mr. Lincoln, and make Jefferson Davis, or whoever should be chosen leader of the new regime, President — these were the real and avowed purposes of the con- spiracy." On what evidence does the reader suppose he as- serts this marvelous fiction? Either upon the reports of those notoriously accurate persons, anonymous newspaper-scribblers, or the gasconading of some excited stump-speaker! Or else he albsurdly wrests the expressed purpose of the leaders of the Con- federacy, a/rer it became rightfully an independent power, and had been reluctantly forced into a defensive war, to end that war with the least effusion of blood, by capturing the hostile capital! He also asserts, upon evidence equally baseless, the purpose of the Confederates to reopen the African slave trade; although, as appears, Vol. III. Chap. IX., he had under his eye the unanimous adoption by the Confederacy of a Constitution, which prohibited that trade far more effectively than the Con- stitution of the United States. In Vol. III., Chap. XLII., Mr. Wilson gives his version of that act of usurpation and lawlessness, the Emancipation Proc- lamation. The narrative is singular. He desires to represent this act as the deliberate result of Mr. Lincoln's progress in con- scientious conviction and statesmanlike insight. He would fain have us believe that he grew honestly to it from a more defec- tive view. But even the brazen armor of the Wilson forehead seemed to be not quite hard enough for this assertion. He there- fore conveys it to us as the testimony of tliat sheet, always so im- .partially and correctly informed upon American alTairs, the London Times. Now, Mr. Wilson can liardly have be(m more ignorant of the real history of that step than other well-inform- ed contemporaries. He knew that Mr. Lincoln, as well as the Freesoil platform on which he was elected, always and express- ly disclaimed the right and purpose to meddle with slavery in the States; that Mr. Lincoln spoke this doctrine and swore to it at his inauguration. He knew that there was no truth what- 254 WILSON'S SLAVE POWER IN AMERICA ever in the pretext that the right to liberate the seceded States' slaves had emerged as a war power, because he had himself, after his Bull Run footrace, vated solemnly, along with the Con- gress and President, that the war was not to be prosecuted for purposes of emancipation, but only to restore the Union as it had been; and that Mr. Lincoln had been accustomed to reiter- ate this doctrine continually, in answer to all the urgency of the Abolitionists. Only a fortnight before the Emancipation Proclamation appeared, he had been urged by a committee of these fanatics to use the war to free the negroes; when the ''martyr-President," with the suavity and refinement which were usual with him, made about this reply, as he almost expelled them from his presence: "You must either be fools, or must think me a fool, that you ask me to do this thing which I have no right to do, and which I have sworn I cannot lawfully do. The Constitution does not empower me to make war to free ne- groes, but to restore the Union." Yet, in ne fortnight there- after, he did the perjured thing! Mr. Wilson doubtless knew the solution of the question, Whence this summersault? The solution was this: that the great British public, though pas- sionately anti-slavery, had at length been so thoroughly awak- ened (largely through the sagacious efforts of Admiral M. Maury) to the deceitfulness and injustice of the Yankee war; that public opinion was pressing the ministry irresistibly towards that just act, the recognition of the gallant Confed- eracy. It was then that Lord John Russell, the Lilijjutian l)rince of the pettifoggers and Abolitionists, instructed his en- voy at Washington, Lord Lyons, to inform Mr. Lincoln's Gov- ernment that there was no artifice by which the British people could longer be restrained more than a few weeks from recog- nition, except the playing upon their anti-slavery passions by making the war tangibly a war for abolition. This was the news which caused Mr. Lincoln to hasten to forswear himself. This is precisely the amount of credit which the great '"Libera- tor," and the party he represented, deserved at the hands of their "fellow-citizens of African descent." Vol. III., Chap. XLVIL, contains our author's advocacy and account of the enormous innovation of universal negro suffrage. On p. GT2, he intimates that tlie few sensible men who opposed this perilous measure were very naughty children, in Wilson's slave power in America. 2f)5 that tlipy iiiipnted a partisan desire to luaniifactiire voters for the Radical ticket, as the motive. He would have us believe that their motives were the most disinterested possible, and their deliberation the most cautious, patient, and candid; but that, turn whichever way they could, they found themselves shut up to the measure of universal negro suffrage, by their gratitude to the two hundred thousand negro soldiers who had eaten rations for the salvation of "the life of the nation,'' by the logical consistency of their principles of equality, and above all, by the truculent determination of the "ex-rebels" to tram- ple on the colored man, unless he were defensively armed with the ballot. Tlie Senator should have foreseen how dreadfully this nice story was to be damaged by the "peaching'' of an ac- complice. Unfortunately, Gen. Sherman, in his most veracious Memoirs, tells us that Mr. Chase, the power behind the throne at Washington, assured him in May, 18C5, that it was the pur- pose of the Government to 'bestow universal sulTrage on the negroes, and avowed the very reason which ^Ir. Wilson pre- tends to disclaim. Sherman's Memoirs, \q\. II., p. 373. The author died in 1872, bequeathing to his country the curse of his public career, and this large legacy of error and prejudice, to }):iison the stream of history for those who believe in him. Sincr his death, the party whom he represented has been covered with so many infamies by its crimes against lib- erty and public virtue, that it is becoming hard for even the Yankee mind to conceal from itself the dishonesty of Radical- ism. The best, and indeed the only, refutation of false history like this, will be the developments of the future. The day will come when all men will recognize the truth that the freesoil, the warlike, and the reconstruction exploits of Mr. Wilson's party had precisely as much patriotism and sincerity as its Credit Mobilier, its salary-grab, its executive and legislative bargains, and its returning boards. This is tlie only answer to slander of the South, to which the audience for whom he wrote will listen. True as all well-informed men know our criticisms to be, they will pass for nothing with his people at this time. It may be asked. Why repeat, then, these futile corrections of pertinacious falsehood, since intelligent men at the South are so fully informed of them, and othcn's will not heed them? We write for the generation of young men now growing up at 256 Wilson's slave power in America, the South, to whom the ohl regime can only be known as his- toiy. The}' will be prone to feel, with an ingenuousness natural to the Southern gentleman, as to his fathers, that it is searcelj' conceivable a man who had been Vice-President, should write so large a book, so prejudiced and false in its very structure. In the facility of their charity and truthfulness, they will find it hard to appreciate the reality. For their sakes the correct history must be perpetually reasserted, and its falsifications unmasked. The task is a tedious and repulsive one: to refute again oft-refuted slanders and sophisms. But it must be done, or we shall have a generation of sons befaoled into Mr. Wilson's venomous estimate of their fathers' deeds, and drugged with his poisonous heresies. This book impresses the candid reader with several facts and inferences which are consolatory or instructive. Mr. Wil- son disijlaj'is, in his vainglorious desire to be a martyr for truth, the estimate which respectable and sensible men at the Xorih almost universall}- held of his party at its origin. He tells us, trutlifully, that Abolition was at first denounced, alike by the Senate, the Bench, and the Pulpit, as a crime and a mischievous and senseless fanaticism. The explanation is, that the men of 1833, in the North, while no friends of slavery for their own society, j^et knew enough experimenlalh' of its real nature to understand the diabolical wickedness of Abolition. Kespecta- ble Northern public men had not then become factionists. They had some respect for law and covenants. They knew what Af- ricans and slavery were. Hence, they knew Abolitionism to be, what it has proved itself, the dire enemy of the Constitu- tion, the African, and the white man, at once. It was only after the school-master and school-marm, the hirelings of a political faction, and its Dugald Dalgettys, the politicating parsons, had educated a new generation upon the pabulum of fictian and hatred, that the Wilson tribe began to appear statesmen and patriots, and his libels history. The attentive reader will rise from the perusal of this book also impressed with another fact: the Freesoil party never de- signed anything short of the utter overthrow of Southern rights. Every page reveals, directly or indirectly, that it was not free- soil in the territories, but the destruction of the South, which was its real aim. The pretense of the Lincoln platform, that the Wilson's slave Power m aMerIca ^fet right of the States over their own institutions was inviolable, fades away as one reads, into an invisible veiL There is here the consolation that the resistance of the South, which was the occasioUjNOT THE CAUSE, of SO much woe, was not an act of gratuitous heat. It was the work of the Southern masses, and not, as Mr. Wilson pretends to believe, of the leaders. Our lead- ers were mosth' behind the emergency, and were still crying to the ipeople. Peace! when there was no peace. But the honest sense of the people had an intuition of the true state of the crisis; that it was their vital rights which were aimed at. This book convinces the reader again that the people were right. Mr. Wilson evinces also the vast mischief done to their own section by a certain type of S3uthern men, once much admired among us. The slaveholder of this class was usually a gentle- man of some culture, and by affectation a philanthropist. He had probably been educated at Harvard, Amherst, Yale, or Princeton. .Accustomed to the simple, unaffected honesty of Southern cultivated sentiment, and the disinterestedness of Southern patriotism, he was simply incapable of believing in the duplicity and one-sidedness of Northern politics. When his more clear-sighted neighbor cautioned him, his answer was: "For shame I Do not yield to prejudices sa bitter." So, in his unsophisticated eyes, all that glittered from the Yankee mint of opinion, passed for gold. He imbibed with docility the fic- tions which were given him as history, and the pretentious so- cial science which had libels and boasts far its main facts. When he returned from the North, and contrasted its prosperity, bloated with commercial plunderings of the South, and protec- tive tariffs and bounties, and endless jobs, with the leanness of the South, he accepted the solution which his professor of this profitable philosophy had so industriously "dinned into him,'' that this was the curse of slavery-. Thus, so soon as he became a petty politician, he sought occasion to utter the spurious wis- doui of his alien teacher. Thus he became, unintentionally, an echo of the slanders of the enemies of his own people. He as- cribed to slavery a depression which, but for tluit most ener- getic and economical form of labor, would have depopulated the South, and which was really the result of the calculated op- pression of New England, through the Federal Congress. He babbled the imaginary political economy of men who never saw 258 Wilson's slave power in America. slavery, and who argued from assumed facts which never ex- isted, its impoverishing etTects. He was even criminal enough to echo the shameful indictments against the morals of his own people, which had bivn cunningly thrust into his mouth. Xo where was this species of nascent politician more prominent than in Virginia, in rhe Legislature which followed the ''South- ampton insurrection." These young members ventilated their logic and self-imirortance by spouting in Richnund all the false facts and absurd theories which they had imported from Yale and Harvard, about "the fearful insecurity of the system, its injustice, its wastefulness, and its debauching effects upon morals." The future found these young gentlemen, indeed, in two widely sundered classes. Those whom Mr. Wilson quotes with most admiration, if they survived, were found among our most despised renegades. The rest, as soon as their beards were grown, learned better wisdom, and with a happy inconsistency, became staunch Southern men. But the mischief was done. They had given the truculent assailants of their fatherland a text. When the nu)st brilliant of them, James McDowell, in his wiser years, essayed to stay the tide of fury and aggression in the Federal Congress, he was answered from his own speeches in the General Assembly of Virginia. And Mr. Wilson has again taken care to embalm all the most extravagant of these decla- mations in his storehouse of slander, as the testimony of Vir- ginia's own best sons against her. He tells his readers nothing of the other side. He professes his wonder that Virginia, after these emphatic confessions, did nothing. He says nothing of the sober logic of wiser men among the Virginians, which speed- ily blew away all this froth of youthful eloquence, leaving the sober reason of all caimed into the clear truth that the old sys- tem was safest, best, and most beneficent to the African. He never heard, we presume, of the masterly essay of President Dew of William and Mary, in which that accomplished man combined the finest resources of the historian, the jurist, and the political economist, to evince the shallowness of the emaucipa tion rhetoric. It was such discussion ;is this which reassured Virginia and opened the eyes of all her young anti-sla^ ery men, save such as were ripening into future scalawags. But mean- time they had slandered their own mother, and her emibittered enemies will talve good care not to let the slanders die. Wilson's slate power in awertca. 259 111 cjiK-lusioii. one rises from the perusal of this book vviiii a moiiriiful impression. What must be the future of a people, the majority of whom accept such writings as this for history? This science is the very eye of statesmanship. With false his- tor}' for pilot, can the ship of state land anywhere but on the breakers? That people which ''lives, breathes, and has its be- ing" in an enveloping atmosphere of falsehood in history and ophisms in philosophy, has nothing before it but to unlearn its heresies in a fearful school of experience. And what prospect has the 8outh for just or even merciful rule, when subjugated l)y a people who believe Senator Wilsin's black rej)resentations about us? His book has passed already through four editions. The disdainful and imperious North, pleased to see those whom she has violently crushed accused of all guilty things, will never condescend t^ look at any reply, until a retributive Providence compels her to read it in the calamitous fruits of her creed. FREE SCHOOLS." Have vdii seen a single, sensible tax-payer, not a small poli- tician, and tlius a suitor for impecunious votes, nor a selfish beneficiary of the plunder disbursed by our school system, who does nor denounce the whole measure as injust and mischiev- ous? I have not.. The plan has been tried and found wanting. The careful observer of Northern opinion sees that while the demagogues, lay and clerical, still shout for the system, in or der to catch the populace, thoughtful men in the North are more radically dissatisfied with it every year, as an expedient for American commonwealths. I could fill quite a scrap book, with reflections of leading Northerners, upon the failure of the system a;s a diffuser of any real intelligence; upon its tenden- cies to degrade American literature and obstruct better educa- tion (outside the cities) upon the evident increase of crime and incendiary opinions under this system; upon its obvious bear- ing to rear up an atheistic generation of people and prepare for America a reign of terror; and upon its futility even to diffuse the art and practice of reading among the laboring masses. Such a scrap-book might be edifying reading for our Utopians. It seems very likely, that they have persuaded Virginia to put on the costly shoes of the Yankees, in this matter, just when they are getting ready to kick them off with disgust. Their consciousness of the strength of our arguments against their pet plan is clearly betrayed in the false issues then- raise. Because we see that this pretended way of education is fallacious, dangerous and wasteful, we are the ^^enemies of edu- cation,'* forsooth! Let us see if even their reluctant heads may not be forced to admit, that a man may be a true and hearty friend of a good work, and yet, for that very reason, all the more opposed to a pretended, mischievous, false way of promoting it : It is presumed that the State Commissioner for instance, is a true friend of the evangelization of all the people, and espec- 1 Appeared in Southern Planter and Farmer, January, 1879. -60 FREE SCHOOLS. 261 ially of the poor and ignorant. Consistency, therefore, makes him an advocate of an established Church to do the evangeliz- ing, does it? Let him speak out! If he says he is not the advo- cate of evangelization by State-action, and 3'et the ardent advo- cate of evangelization, then I ask, by what monopoly of candor or honest}' does he, while claiming this for himself, impugn our motives, when we say that we are ardent advocates of the true education of the poor and ignorant (have been working for it all our lives); and yet not advocates of education by direct, vState- action? And while on this point, I will add another question: If a man reasons consistently, must not tlie State-school men's logic, from the admitted importance of education, to their State scheme, also lead every Christian to advocate a State establish- ment of Christianity? Why not? And does the Superintendent remember an occasion, at which I was present, when a citizen of Virginia, eminent for moderation, wisdom, age and benignity of character, made him admit that very c(mclusion, as, under certain circumstances following from his positions? This suggests a point against our present plan, whose for- midable character is now making thoughtful men at the North, and in Britain, tremble. The Redeemer said, "He that is not with me is against me." There cannot be a moral neutrality. Man is born with an evil and ungodly tendency. Hence a non- religious training must be an anti-religious training. The more of this, the larger curse. But the American commonwealth has expressly pledged herself to a non-religious attitude. Hence, she cannot, by her State-action, endow or inculcate a particular i-eligion. While the population of some States was homogen- eous, this radical difficulty was not seriously felt: the people of a Protestant State, like Connecticut, could (luietly oversteip the true history of their own constitution, in favor of Protestantism ; and there was nobody to protest. But now we have I'apists, Unitai-ians, Chinese, Jews and Atheists by the myriads; and they will not acquiesce in the wielding of State-power, in which they have equal rights, for the partial advantage of a creed to which they are opposed. The result will be, that their protests will triumph, as they now do, in many States; and we shall have a generation of practical atheists reared "on State account"; just as clear-sighted men in the North see they have on their hands 262 FREE SCHOOLS. there, rapidly prepariug for them another sans culotte revolu- tion. In previous discussion, it was also shown, that the system of State-schools is agrarian, or communistic, contiscatiug the property' of one class of citizens for the private and domestic behoof of another. The justice of this charge none know better than those who mix with the people; the power to make the rich man educate their children is the nuiin feature which commends the system to the non-taxpaying voters. It is valued by them as a method of plunder. We have also shown that the system is levelling, and attemjjts an impossibility: to give all the people literar}' occupations; whereas in all countries, and in spite of universal schools, it is found that the laboring class does not read, and does not wish to read. It was shown that the scheme confounds educatiou with a knowledge of a few literary arts (reading, writing, etc..) which are not education, but only possi- ble means thereof; and in the case of the laboring poor, far the most questionable, and least efficient means of true education. The tendency of the State's interference was shown to be. to de- grade the standard of literary educatiou, while diifusing its poorest elements: since we see good schools disappear as the primary ones are multiplied. The degradation of literature fol- lows from the same cause, toy reason of the attempt to supply a grovelling or shallow literature for the multitude of minds one-tenth part educated. It was proved \)y stubborn facts, that common schools have multiplied crime and pauperism, by a natural intlueuee, suggesting to the laboring classes new wants, without increasing in them the jjowei' of moral self control or the means of lawful indulgence. And the dishonesty of their advocates has been again and again exposed, in continuing to appeal to their deceptive cry, "Better economy to build school- houses than jails''; after // hax been proved to them, that the multiplication of their school- houses has multiplied the jails. The fearful dangers to the morals of children, by i)romiscuous minglings in these schools, has been pointed out; and are re- ceiving confirmations in many parts of the country, in the spread of abuses too gross to be ventilated in public. The cer- tainty that our schools will be perverted by demagogues for party purposes, was pointed out; and was illustrated by facts; while the intolerable and tyrannical nature of this usurpation FREE SCHOOLS. 2ij'S was displayed. Last: the lights of the wiser statesmauship of better da3's were adduced, to show how perilous it is to fix on the conmiunitv any system whatsoever, the nature of wliich is, to subsidize man}' persons, b^' ^ivino; them a seltish, pecuniary interest in the perpetuation of it, or of its abuses. For, should the system 'i)rove unwise, or should new circumstances require its change or repeal, the self-interest of all these subsidized classes wall prompt them to clamor and defraud the public mind, so as to uiake the needed repeal impossible or extremely diffi- cult. The course of this discussion has added a pungent illustra- tiju to the }>ower of our last argument. No sooner was discrim- inating inquiry turned upon the new system, than it was dis- covered that it had already bribed so many classes, other than tax-payers, that candid and patriotic discussion was hopeless. A State Superintendent in the metropolis, a counry Superin- tendent in each county, with his gang of petty tax gatherers, his school board for each "townshi})." his campany of school- masters and schoolmarms, with their whole cohort of pauper parents, at once waked up to the fact that their much be praised system enabled them very conveniently to keep their hands in the pockets of other people. All these joined, in many places, in raising a mercenary clamor, which has drowned fair discus- vsion. And our minute politicians, in whose breasts votes are the breath of life, are seen so intiuiidated, that hardly one of them dares whisper a doubt against the idol of the socialists. The manner in which this debate has been conducted by many of tliese petty place holders would have been enough, were Vir- ginia what she once was, to overwhelm the whole affair with righteous disgust and indignation. Citizens who have the right of tax-payers, to be heard touching their rights, and State-af- fairs; who are, in many cases veneralble for grey hairs, for ex- perience, for integrity, and for long lives of labor and sacrifice for the honor of Mrginia, have been seen yelped after by these otticials (whose only known service to the State has been draw- iug salaries wrung from it by a grinding taxation), with ob- locpiy and ridicule. This is an indecency wliich deserves only chastisement. The time was, when Mrginian oHicials had manners and principle enough to keep silent in a debate touching their own 264 FREE SCHOOLS emoluments; they felt that delicacy, not to say common de- cency, prompted the leaving of such questions to be considered by that larger part of the citizens wh3 had no pecuniary inter- est in the issue. The time was, when Virginia had a righteous constitution, the work of statesmen and not of demagogues; and that instrument contained this provision: That no mem- ber of a Legislature which debated and decided the creation of a salaried ofBce, shauld take office under the act creating it. The reason of this excellent law, was, that the very indecency on which I remark might be made impossible, at least, in the Legislature; that no man. when handling the rights of his fel- low-citizens and of the State, should run even a risk of having his judgment warped by a pecuniary and personal considera- tion. But we have now seen all this indecent clamor from the thraats of paid officials; and we have seen the School Commis- sioner actually employing the people's money to flood the State with ex parte documents and arguments, designed to forestall the expression of the people's judgment as to measures in de- bate before them, and liable to be justly condemned by them. All that the school law, bad as it is, could pretend to create such officials for, was. to execute the provisions of the law. But under the thin jjretext of diffusing information about educa- tion, they misapply the people's money to the work of manufac- turing, in Virginia, a Yankee public sentiment, alien to the genius and traditions of Virginia, promotive of the continuance of their personal emoluments! And Virginians stand this? The utter inadequacy of the pretext for universal negro schooling was also pointed out; that ''as they are to vote, it is our duty and interest to educate them into intelligent voter's." We showed that primary education, larger than that given to our negroes, had utterly failed to make intelligent voters out of the white proletariat of the North, and we urged this plain, honest query: What right have they to promise Virginia that a smaller dose of their physic which we see only impotent and mischievous there, will do any good here? The facts they dare not deny; but at the i)lain, stubborn question they refuse to look. Blinking that, they only repeat the refuted pretext, an average specimen of the honesty of the logic. The radical na- ture of the perils attending negro suffrage was pointed out to them, from difference of color and race, alien blood, race an- FEEE SCHOOLS. 265 tipathies, savage morals, total absence of property-stake in the common weal, subjection to poisonous and malignant outside influences; and it was asked. Will such a mite of the arts of reading and spelling, as Virginia free negro children are going to retain, be any remedy at all fjr these strong perils? Every man's common sense answers: Just as trustworthy as a minute bread pill for the yellow-fever! Every man's common sense also shows him, that while this sham-schooling will be utterly futile for the end proposed, it will be efficacious for harm, by giving young negroes pretext for the idleness and the false expecta- tions which are their and our great perils. The art of reading may be quite a good thing for him who uses it aright, but these young negroes are in perishing need of learning many things which are. for them, infiuitely more momentous than this ques- tionable boon, and which these baubles Df schools fatally pre- vent their learning; how to turn a good furrow, how to make an honest day's work, how to groom a horse, Inw to cook a whole- some loaf, how to wash a shirt, how to whet a scythe, how to mow an acre of grass per day, and aib:)ve all, how to live with- out stealing. We solemnly tell the schonl-men that they are giving the country a generation of young negroes whose inevi- tabledestinyistoworkor steal, whom they are so rearing, that they neither wish to work nor know how. The property-men of the country cannot hire them, because they know nothing useful to an employer; and the young negroes would not hire themselves if they were fit for anything. Come, gentlemen, lay aside utopianisms, and sophisms, and "false facts," and tell us, if you please, what Virginia is to do with a half million of young negroes thus traiuf^d to impotency, when the old genera- tion, educaied by slavery are gone? Give each one of them a school to teach? Will they not all have the natural wants and desires of human beings? Neither able nor willing to work, will they not take? Can poor, impoverished Virginia stand up under so much lettered i)aupensm? Will not the alternatives be universal bankruptcy or anarchical resistance? The ques- tion is solenm and urgent. We urge, again, the burning injustice of the present law. taxing the former owners, after plundering them, for the pre- tended education of negroes — Virginia had her own system for educating her negroes. It was a good system, approved by two 266 FREE SCHOOLS. eeiituries of experience. It turned miserable savaj^es intu a decent, useful, Christian peasantry. It even diffused fully as mucli of the arts of letters as the Africans were in a condition to profit hy ! For it is well known that every young: negro slave wlio showed any wortliy aspiration at all was usually tau\'ell, it suited the invader's purposes of ambition to tear down our j;ood, old, legalized, beneficent system of edu- cation for the negro, and to confiscate our property in him, thus reducing the white community to the verge of destitution. And then, l^he oppressor turns around and taxes us, already so ruth- lessly injured, for means to attemipt a new, expensive and worthless system for repairing the ruin which he had himself perpetrated in destroying the well tried and lawful system! The destruction of the good, old system was his work — a work wrought exclusively for his own aggressive ends. Let him bear the cost\if repairing his own mi'Schief. There was wicked- ness enough in the doing of it. in all conscience. But now, when he turns ujvon the injured party, and again plundei-s them, un- dei- the pretense of taking means to repair Ms own first crime, tL ; wrong is ''rank and smells to heaven." I see not how any righteous mind in Virginia can have anything to do with it, ex- cept to protest, while he unavoidably submits. Hence it is, that when any white man among us pretends to be an ex awm^approver of this plan, my common sense com- pels me to be a skeptic as to his sincerity. The old Irish fish- woman tried to /persuade her customer that the eels rather liked skinning; but the eels never said so; and had one of them professed satisfaction with the i)rocess pr see, I should have persisted in the doubt whether he were a candid and truthful eel. From this i)oint of view, the sensible reader sees that the very inception of this State-school matter in Virginia stamiped its motive with insincerity. The "Underwood Constitution" it- self, thrust down Virginia's throat as it was. by the breech of Provost Marshal's musket, did not require the Legislature to put any system of State schools in operation until ISTO. Every patriotic reason should have prompted us to wait as long as our masters allowed us. The State was in a condition of finan- FREE SCHOOLS. 207 cial exhaustion, which made any breathing time, linvever short, a boon to her; and her credit was already staggering under a load she coukl but just carry. There was no experience any- where in the w-orld, to guide a Legishiture in such a problem as the Taulervvood Constitution imposed; the education of two ditferent and hostile races on tbe same soil and in the same system, and in Virginia, there was a total lack of experimental knowledge of kState education on the Yankee-plan. It would have been m'ost beneficial to wait a season, and thus gain the benefit of other's exj)eriments. Our conquerors, whose imiper- ious will imposed this plan on us, then had the full fever of their hatred and tpiumphs on their spirits. Every year that passed was likely to abate something of their fury, and take some of the ''wire-edge" off their despotism, so as to hold out the hope that in 187G they would 'be less exacting of their sub- jects than in 1870. At least, one would have thought, the Legis- lature, driven by their masters to so vast, expensive and un- tried a work, would proceed tentatively, during the six years of grace, and risque only small experiments, until they had felt their way. The propriety of delay is evinced by this i)lain ques- tion: Does anybody dream, that in 1870, after the Funding Bill, after all the experiences, the disappointed hopes, the decline in real estate, the ebbing of resources of those six disastrous years, any Legislature could have been mad enough to commit the State to the cumbrous and costly incubus fixed on us by the ac- tion of 1870? Nobody. The blunder would have become im- possible by 187G. Well, all that we might have gained by the experience of those six years, with five millions of dollars (spent (ui these sham-schoolsj, wliicli might either have paid off one- sixth of our whole debt, saving the State's credit; or, if left in the people's hands, might have fecundated private enterprise all over the State; all this our Legislature threw away in 1870. by its precipitate, superserviceable zeal in carrying out the or- ders of our conquerors. Why did they thus run six years ahead of their maister's own orders, in the face of all these obvious considerations for delay? To buy votes for themselves in coun- ty elections; to disarm the objections of radical demagogues, who were hounding on the negro voters after the spoils of the promised school-system; to ingratiate themselves with the non- tax-paying voters, by giving them speedily this pretext for 268 FEEE SCHOOLS. thrusting their liunds iuto their neighbor's pockets. Thus the system was begun, not in wisdom or patriotism, but in self seek- ing. Is it asserted that it was necessary to thraw this "tub to the whale'' at once in order to appease radicalism and save the State government from its clutches? I reply by the question: IVas radicalism appeased? Did it not wield the whole negro vote substantially, notwithstanding the '^tub?" The State was saved from its foul clutch, not by any aippeasing or dividing of its greed, but in spite of that greed. Had the ruler of the State and the leaders of the Conservative party then assumed a quiet, honest position they would have met the clamor for precipitating the school-system thus: "When the stipulated time comes, we shall duly perform the covenant, which a hard necessity has forced us to agree to. The poverty of the State and the true in- terests of both races forbid our anticipating the task. No obli- gation exist to do so, consequently no charge of bad faith can lie f3r our not doing so." This honest attitude would have been so impregnable that ir would have put the Conservative party in a far better iposition before its enemy than it ever gained from its cowardly haste and rashness. But I have still more practical objections to make against our present school-laws and their administration. I charge that, even if we granted the propriety of the Yankee theory of uni- ver.sal common-scho )1 education on State account and under State control; even if the Underwood Constitution were right in this thing — which I utterly deny — still our present system is wicked, tyrannical, wasteful and unnecessarily burdensome to an imjtoverished ])eople. and comparatively inefficient as an execution of its advocates' own false theory. If it be granted that theory is to prevail in Virginia, still the present school- laws and their administration are flagrantly vicious, and call for tl)e ref(n'm of the Legislature. This I shall prove in a prac- rical way, by comparing it with actual results in the present and the past. My argument will proceed on the maxim, that what has been done by others in the same circumstances, can be done by Virginia. First. I bring our boasters to the test of a comparison with the existing system in the State of G.eorgia, the "Empire State of the South." Georgia, like us, has been forced by her con- querors to embark in the Yankee theory of universal primary FREE SCHOOLS. 260 education on State account and und(M- State control. The vital article of their present Constitution compelling- this is as fol- lows :* ''There shall be a thorough system of common sclijols for the education of children in the elementary branches of our English education only, as nearly uniform as practicable, the expenses of which shall be provided for by taxation or other- wise. The schools shall be free to all children of the State, but separate schools sha-ll be provided for the white and colored races." The revenues provided by the ConstitutiDu and laws, to support all the schools, ** are the poll tax, the interest on the existing school fund, a special tax on shows, a tax on the sale of liquors, a dog tax, and half the net earnings of the ''State railroad." No property tax is laid, either on State or local account, on any real or personal property of individuals, to smpport com- mon schools. Thus the grand iniquity of our agrarian system is avoided. Even the Legislature is sternly inhibited from au- thorizing any local taxations, by any local authority whatso- ever, for school purposes, until the tax has been expressly ap- proved by two-thirds of the voters of the locality (city, or coun- ty, or town). Even this guarded power the Legislature has hitherto wisely refused to grant; and so far no property tax is wrested from any one citizen to help to educate another man h family. Now let us contrast our "bill of abominations." The Legis- lature,* in addition to the income of the ''literary fund" and cer- tain escheats and fines, levies on all property, for a general or State school fund, a direct tax of ten cents per .flOO annually. But this outrage is only the small beginning. The county school board may also tax all property in the county to the same rate; and the "district school board," the littlest and last gradation of petty tyranny, the three trustees of a township, may exercise this highest attribute of sovereignty, and tax their (fellow-oiti- zens, I was about to write, erroneously) subjects, to the rate of. ten cents on the flOO of all property! Thu.s, besides the other ~- *Const. or Ga.. Art viii. § 1. m * *Const. Art. viii . S S: Pub. Sch Liiw.s of Ga. ;: •■31: Const Art viii.. § 4. Sch. Report of G:i . 1887. p. 1::. * -School Law of Vu. codiffed." pp. 19. 2-3: Actof As.serQbl.v Jau 11. 1WT7. -School Laws codilied. " p. -l'. 2T0 fREll SCHOOLS. very considerable exactions which come ultimately from the people, we have property taxed 30 cents on every |100. to edu- cate the children of those who pay no tax, or nearly naue. This is three-fourths of all the property tax the State of Virginia used to require for all the ends of government, in the days of her glory and greatness; and three-fifths of all that she now ex- acts for all her other purposes, in these days of enormous and reckless taxation and expenditure! But who are the "county board" and the "district board?" The "district board" is one of three "trustees" for the townships, appointed by the county superintendent, county court {judge), and commonwealth'' s at- torney! And who appoints the "county superintendent?" The State school board nominally — Dr. Ruffner actually, according to his own admission.** And the county judge? He is elected for a term of years by the Legislature. And the common- wealth's attorney? He is elected by the non-tax-paying voters of his county; in my county, elected by pauper negroes. And who is the "county school board?" These little office-holders, thus appointed of the several townships, with the county super- intendent again, constitute the "county school board." Thus the power of taxing the people, the most important function of soTereignty, is entrusted to persons with whose appoint- ment the people can have nothing direct to do. This Is an out- rage against the first principle of free government: that repre- sentation must accompany taxation. True, this county board is directed by law to report their proposed levies to the county "board of supervisors." who are elected by the people, i. e., by theuou-tax-payingvoters; in our couniy, b}' the pauper negroes. But in this matter of the school levies, this board of supervi- sors is. to the school board, only what a "/// de justice''' was to Louis XIV. of France. It can hear, register and enforce their majesties' edicts, and hound on the constable who sells the last <:ow of the white widow of a Confederate soldier to play at schooling the brats of negroes who are stealing out of the field the poor little crop of corn she has tilled with the hands of her fatherless boys. The law itself is so worded as constructively to enjoin the supervisors to ordain whatever levies the school board demands, provided it does not pass the maximum limit.* * *Va. School Rep.. 1877. p 15. 'The work and responsibUity are thrown on him by the other members of the Board *See School Laws codified. §64. 4: 'It sftaZi ho thedtityoi said Board to levy," etc. FRET? SCHOOLS. 271 Why this outrage on the principles of fi'ee government? The nature of the UnderwDod Constitution is to make each township a corporation for township purposes. PV/iy did not the law allow the to7vnship corporation, like all other corpora- tions in the land, to elect its own officers? \\\, the concocters of the tyranny did not mean to alh)w tlie sacred principle, for wliicli our fathers fought, to hold hore, for fear the citizens in the townships should use their right of election to protect their property frjm plnnder nnder the name of school tax! One might have thought that they had sufficient guarantee of lav- ish taxation, in the universal and the negro sutt'rage prevailing in the townships, where the voters who pay no property tax have the power of a majority, to vote away the property of the minority who do pay. But this sweeping and ruthless power, wicked as it is, was not enongh for the artificers of our system; so, to make sure that property shall be absolntely helpless, un- der the robbery designed, they also sundered representation from taxation, and gave the taxing ])ower, in township and county, to persons not elected by the tax payers. Our system is worse than those of the Yankees, from whom our school men seem so gi'eedy to borrow; for, while the major part of the school money in the Yankee States usually comes from the lo- cal taxes, the rights of townships and their citizens in assent- ing to those taxes are more respected. The township there is a little republic, and exercises the rights of one; onrs are in names, corporations, but heljiless corpses in fact, under the exactions of these officials with their foreign api)Dintments. Once more; bad as the laws are, I have the personal evi- dence, that these irresponsible exactors are capable of trans- cending those laws. Tliey actually made me pay in Prince Ed- ward county, for 1877, to the State ten cents on every $100 for school purposes. To the connty and district jointly twenty cents on every |100 of my real estate in Prince Edward, and 20 9-10 on every flOO of my personal property. I have the , county treasurer's receipt for this lawless plunder (0 0-10 cents per |100 more than the maximnm allowed by tlieir own tyran- nical laws) in my desk. It may be satisfying to the curious to know Inw mnch tax a conntryman i)ays who has no municipal taxes and no muuici])al privileges. On my little mite of real estate: To the State, countv and schools. 105 cents on every 2t2 ^tt.^^ sctiooJ.s. $100 of value. On my personal projxM'ty to the i^tatc, coniiry and school, 127 G-10 cents on every |100 of value, besides my separate income tax. This is quite near enoiugh to confiscation, esipecially on real estate which yields the owner just 0 />er cent. annually. Of course there is no redress. Every well informed person knows that this is just the kind of oppression which John Hampton resisted in the famous case of the ship-money, and which ultimately cost Charles I. his head. l>ut the despo- tism in Virginia is S3 much more crushing than tliat of the absolutist king, that any man who made a stand for his rights here would be simply laughed at. Xow, the point of my coimparison is, that Georgia is as distinetlj' committed to the wrong system of universal State- schools as Virginia is. Yet Georgia can set up that system without trampling, in this way, on the rights of the people. The Legislature of Georgia could at least avoid that self-evident enormity, of enabling the non-tax-paying majority to vote away the money of the paying minority withomt redress to the latter. She did at least avoid the wickedness of so legislating, as that the power of levying and disbursing property-taxes should be placed in the hands of one class of the people who do not pay; while the necessity of paying taxes is imposed on a distinct class — those who own property. If this is not "class-legisla- tion"— the essence of oligarch}- — I know not what is. Geor- gia, knowing that, with universal white and negro suffrage, the class who pay no property tax must always be in the ma- jority, wisely refuses to levy any property tax for schools. The only general tax she allows to be levied on her people for this eommunistic purpose is a poll-tax, in which rich and poor pay alike. Now, if we must have the Yankee system, why cannot our Legislature imitate the wisdom and moderation of Georgia? Let all property-taxes. State and local, for school pui'poses, be abolished. Let the poll-tax be dedicated to that use, with the proviso, that the parent must at least pay the poll-tax, in or- der to enter his children. And, if this would not make a sum sufficiently splendid for our enthusiasts, let us imitate Georgia again, and devote the liquor-tax to the schools. The Auditor estimated that the Moffett law, properly applied, would yield |G00,000. Is not that, added to the poll-tax and the income of FliEE SCHOOLS. '>7'A the literary fund, enough to glut the rapacious maw of the Schaol Board? Give them this; and we shall at least iiave the consoiation of knowing, that we are not plundered to sup- port a mischievous system, unless we choose to commit the folly of tippling. The powers given these petty oflicials by our laws are also tyrannical in the matter of school buildings and fixtures.* These officers, practically irresponsible to the people, decide that any building they please are needed, and the people are taxed, "will they, nill they" to build them.* The county Superintendent is armed with the power of condemning a building, already paid for by the people's money, and disposing of it. He who does not see here openings for corrupt robbery must be blind in- deed, I know that officials may be found, who do not build or alienate school-houses for jobbery, and who endeavor to con- sult the poverty of their people. But the system is evil, in that it gives the power to unscrupulous men; in that it applies the temptation to human nature. And I know that abuses do exist, showing cruel oppression of our burdened tax-payers. I know of a school-house, needlessly built, against the advice and protest of discreet tax-payers, in a township of honest country people almost bankrupted already by taxes, occupied by a pretended scliool one or two seasons, and since standing empty, except as used, without authority, for a tobacco barn! How immy hundreds of such cases exist? The people are so tired out and crushed with oppressions, that they are too lan- guid to protest; and such doings pass si/3 si/en/io. But now. let us compare the cost of our schools, and those of Georgia; a vital point when our State is hovt-ring over in- solvency.t Georgia spends, in one year, |434,046.t Virginia spends, for one year, |l,050,:U(i: ! ! ! Georgia is the undimin- ished Emi)ire State of the South, wirh — of pop- ulation, and millions of taxable property. Vir- ginia is shorn of one-third the dimensions by dismemberment and claims only millions of taxable values. Again, § the total expense of working the system in Geor- gia is 10,300.58. The expense of working our system is, || by +School Laws codifled. ^ 40 44. *School Laws codified. § 42 43. +C4eorgia Scliool Rep. for 1H76. p. — . p. s. p. 8 afrain i\ irginia School Rep for isr7. p. 7. pp. 5. 6. ?C4eorgi;i School Rep. for is;6. p. — , p. 8 p 8 apaiu llVirginia School Rep. for 1877. p. 7. pp. 5. 6. • 274 FREK SCHOOLS. the Supei-iiiteudem'.s uwu tigures, $170,887.78. This includes aothing for building school-houses; all this immense sum goes Jor salaries, fees and rents, etc. Is it an}' longer a surprise to the people of Virginia, that rliere is an indecent and viciaus re- sistance to all amendments, on the part of this well-pampered crew? The number of children in Georgia (of both colors) be- tween the ages of six and eighteen is reported^, -to be 394,0.37, the number enrolled was 170,405, and the actual average num- ber in the schools was 115,121. In Virginia (see reference abDve) the number of both colors between five and twenty-one A-ears, was said to be 482,789 (the difference of 88,752 in favor of Virginia would be more than offset by the children between tive and six. and 'between eighteen and twenty-one, not enu- merated in Georgia I, and tlu' average actually taught last year was 117,s4:5. That is to say: our Mrginia system teaches but 2.722 more children than the Georgian system, but costs our distressed State nearly twice and a half as much money. Why cannot our system be wrought as cheaply as the Georgian? Look at the enormous salary-list on our plan:* Salary for State Superintendent; salaries for his clerks; office expenses at the seat of government; salaries for a cohort of county Superin- tendents, at the tune of $300 for each of the first ten thousands of souls in liis county, and |20 f.or each subsequent thousand; so that a count}* of eighteen thousand souls pays for these few duties a salary of |4G0: salaries to clerks of county boards and district boards; salaries for Treasurers, per diems for district trustees, salaries for the enumerators 'of children; so that, for (.ypi-y ff^xix- dollars and fifty cents which reaches the teachers — rile men wlio do all the real work — one dollar of the people's nicncy is stopped on the way t) grease the palm of some blat- ani advocate of the system, Avho teaches no child at all. But, on the (leorgian plan, the county Superintendent receives no pay but a small per diem for the days actually devoted to his duties; and the county boards no pay at all, except exemption from jury and road-services. Why cannot Virginians serve the cause of education as cheaply as Georgians? Again, the monthly cost of the Georgian child for school ^Georgia School Rep. for 1876. p— . p. 8. p 8 agrain. *Va. School Rep. 1877, p. 7. School Laws codified. § 7:i p. 27, p. 11. Act of Assem- bly, March 29. 1S77. PR^-R SCHOOLS. 275 iiijj; is 84 1-3 cents. The monthly cast of the Virginia chihl is |1.4(». Or, let us take this view of the economy of our system. The average pay of primary male teachers in Virginia is |33.10 per month; of female teachers, |27.37 per month. But private parti(\s have no difticulty in employing young- ladies, of liberal culture, who actually teach the higher English branches, Latin, French and music at prices ranging from |12 to $15 per month with board. p]very country housekeeper knows that the board of a young lady in his family does not add |10 per month to his actual expenses. So that iprivate parties can get ccmipetent jjersons tio teach the higher branches for |22, when the State gives 127.37 for teaching the plainest rudiments. Yet the boast was that the State would do the work so much inore economi- cally! There are accomplished ladits now in Virginia laboring long hours in schools unendowed by the State, at |15() per year without board. Negro fellows, on the other hand, who would think themselves well paid at |8 iper month in the held, and young negro women who would be satisfied with |5 per month in the laundry, are paid |33 and |27 per mouth, while white ladies are reduced to work for .f 12 or |15. No wonder the sys- tem is popular with negroes and olhce-holders. One other excellent feature o-f the Georgia law is secured by the very Constitution of the State — Art. \iii. Sec. 5. "Noth- ing contained in Sec. 1 of this Art. shall be construed to de- prive schools in this State, not common schools, fpom participa- tion in the educational funds of the State, as to all pupils there- in, taught in the elementar}^ branches of an Engiisli educa- tion." The meaning of this provision is, that all schools created and regulated by parents themselves, shall have the same title to a share in the school fund to pay for instruction in the Eng- lish rudiuu'uts with those created by the State, provided the teachers of the former come under a few simple regulations en- suring the useful performance of their duties. The vital ad- vantage of this is, that the State of Georgia restricts and limits that iuti-iision into and usurpation of parental rights and re- sponsibilities within the narrowest limits permitted by her conquerors, which our system studies to push to the most sweep- ing and enormous extent. The State of Georgia recognizes the right of parents to say where a school is needed, how it shall 276 FREE SCHOOLS. be regulated. wId shall be its readier, what shall be its text- books, what its moral or religious regimen. The State of Vir- ginia does all that can be done to wrest these inalienable rights and duties from rlie parents to whom God and nature have given them, and vest them in three "school trustees." The State of Georgia say.s tj parents: "Exercise your rights of choice, and the Commonwealth will acquiesce and pay the portion of the fund equitably due your families, to the teacher of your choice." Tlie State of Mrginia virtually says: "I claim, like pagan Sparta, to be parent of all children, and to usurij the rights of natural parents in dictating by my iftlcials. where, how, and by whom your children shall be educated; and if any parent insist on his rights of doing his own natural duties to his own ottspring, he shall be punished therefor, by having his property taken from him to educate other people's children in ways he did njt elect." There is the difference. The experience of every practical man will teach him now conducive this feature of the Georgia law is to flexibility, con- venience and economy. The parents of a neighborhood create a school; they are the best judges where it should be situated, and who had best teach it; far they are actuated by disinterest- ed love for the children, and sound common sense. They fur- nish the house and the appliances. Hence, every dollar the State contributes is apj^lied to the cost of actual instruction. The plan has the tlexibility needed for a sparse population; the wishes of parents, desiring higher tuitian for their chil- dren, co-operate with the wishes of the State desiring primary tuition for all; and public and private interests work together for the mutual benefit of the property-class and the poor. It may be claimed, that a similar thing is sometimes done in Virginia. If it is, it is done informally, and outside the pro- visions of our iron system. The instances speak well, not for the system, but for the good sense and right feeling of some of the officials. Let us now proceed to compare our system with the for- mer system bequeathed by our wise fathers. Before the war, it was Tiiuch the fashion with the Utopians to bela'bor that .'sys- tem with abuse, as inefficient and partial. But experience now proves that the I'esults were every whit as complete and use- ful as the I'esults of our present oppressive plan, while the old FREE SCHOOLS. S77 one has the imsfijeakable advantages of economy and founda- tion in right principles. According to the report of William A. Moncure. Second Auditor, the literary fund of Virginia accomplished in 1858 the following results: The number of schools assisted in Vir- ginia was 3.84:7. The number of poor children sent to school was 54,232. The average attendance of these children was not quite twelve weeks, or three months of school time. The aver- age annual cost of the tuition and ibooks of each child was $2.96, or about $1 per month for the time actually spent in study. And the total cost of the system to the State was only f 160,530. The addition made for the expenses of administra- tion seems to have been, in all, .f 18,04:7, if we rightly infer from the Second Auditor's* figures. The whole expenses of the cen- tral administration were but |2.750 (as against |5,810 in 1877), and the only other salaried agent.s were the county superintend- ents, who received, what one of them calls in his report, a "lit- tle pittance." "School commissioners." in all the counties, per- formed their duties gratuitously, and were prompt and proud to do so from philanthropy and patriotism. IV/iy cannot this be done now? The Reports from all the counties, while recog- nizing defects, and admitting that the results were incomplete, jet infonn the government of the general popularity and pro- gressive utility of the system. But now, the general verdict which comes up from disinterested and intelligent men in all quarters is, that our present system is an expensive, mischiev- ous and cruel sham. Per contra, it claims, in the School Keport of 1877. to have given, on an average, four and a half months' tuiti(m to 117.84:5 children, at an average monthly cost of |1.43 per month, and at a total cost to the State of $1.050.:U<). While the cost of ad- ministration of the old system was but |18,000, the expense of working the new has been |170,8001 If we regarded the num- ber of pupils alone, the old system did nearly hilf the tvork (54.2.32 children then, 117,843 n vw) for less than one-fifth of the rnoneyl Look at that! |178,577 then, against |1. 050,346 now. Then Virginia was rich; now she is poor. The cost of adminis- tration was then, absolutely, a little over one-tenth of what it is no«-; and relatively to the numbers taught, about one-fourth of the present. 278 FREE SCHOOLS. An attempt will be made to break the terrible force of this comparison of facts by reviyino; the complaints which our Uto- pians used to utter against the incompleteness of our aid sys- tem. The plea will be that, if the system was cheap, its fruits were yery poor. We shall again hear the old complaints as to the great irregularity in attendance, the listlessness of par- ents and pupils, the scantiness of the letters actually gained, etc., etc., etc. But the answer is: First, that this imperfection of results, which was true of the old system, if it arg-ues any- thing-, argues the folly of the States attempting t3 cure in the popula- masses the disease of ignorance, indolence and apathy, by ant such quantum of the arts of letters as the State can give on any system. If the former results argue anything, they ar- gue the just application to the whole subject of the maxim, "One mar can take a horse to water, but a hundred cannot make him drink"; they only show what we haye all along urged — that to inspire aspiration, punctuality, industry, a con- scientious use of ipriyileges and ac(]uirements, is what the State has no means of doing, and without tliese, any appliances, or any plan, are wasted. , But second, the answer is. that >ur new system, with all its tyranny and crushing expense, yields fruits just as imper- fect. Were the children of the indigent then listless and irregu- lar in attendance? They are so still? Was the tincture of let- ters then giyen A'ery small? // is smalhr now. The old system did not profess to deal with any but indigent white children. Of these, the Commonwealth then contained about 97,000; and of these, 54,232 were not only enrolled, but actually sent to school. Our present system undertakes t(» provide for 482,789 ehildren and youths. Of these, it has not enrolled even more than 205,000, and it only pretends to have taught, at all, 117,- 843. Talk of imperfect results! The old system was energy and perfection compared with this! The old system had so far overtaken its destined work as to give nearly three months' schooling to more than half the whole mass of A'outh for which it was designed; while the new system has not enrolled nearly half of its appointed mass, and has not given any instruction to three-fourths of its ai)pointed charge. Even as to the enrolled youth, we have a betrayal of its inefficiency, and of the abound- ing listlessness and irregularity of its beueticiaries. The pres- FEEE SCHOOLS. 279 ent law makes the compeusation of the teachers depend on the actual attendance, rather than the nu'mibers claimed on the school-rolls. The law says that a teacher shall not be maintain- ed, unless an actual average of sixteen daily is in attendance. Now, it is ver}' well known among the teachers, that, unless tliej^ have a roll of not less than thirty pupils, it is usually vain to hope for an actual av(M-age attendance of sixteen. Wliat does this mean? That on any average day, when sixteen are in iplace long enough to be counted, fourteen are truant. That tells the whole tale as to the wretched results of our present organization. Dr. Ruffner's figures tell the same miserable stor3\ Of all the youth of school age, only 24.4 per cent, attend school on an average; and. of those enrolled, only 57 1-2 per cent, attend. (In round numbers, 205,0(10 are enrolled; 11S,000 have attended. Now as 118,000 : 205,000 :: 57 1-2 : 100.) Here, again, are the stubborn facts, showing that the old Virginian system was as much more efficient as it was cheaper. But we shall see our Utopians, with their usual candor, persist- entlj' averting their eyes from the facts while they go on with their baseless boasting. Why will our authorities, with this clear light of experience before them, still prefer the bad sys- tem to the good? If they do, the peo})le will understand why: Because the system is worked for the advantage of the office holder, and not of the State. That will be clear to the people's common sense. I have now shown our legislators two plans — the (ifeorgiau, and the old plan of Virginia — both of which have been tried, and either of which is immeasurably better than the one that curses us. This system of our fathers had superiority in its principles, as great as in its i)ractical \\'orkiugs. Of these, I will, in concluding, present two. One was, that the State gov- ernment left to ])areuts those powers and rights which are theirs by tlu* laws of Ood and nature, and which cannot be usurped by a. just, free government: those of directing the rearing of tli.eir own children, and choosing its agents and methods. Clus' ters of parents were left to create schools, to elect teachers, to ordain the instruction and discipline. When tlie jiarents had used their prerogatives, then the State came in as a modest ally and assistant, and by providing for the teaching in those schools of such children as their helpless fjoverty made proper wards 280 FEEE SCHOOLS. of the State's charity, helped on the work of education, and sup- plied that destitution which private charity did not reach. There was a system conformed to the good old doctrine af our fath- ers, that "governments are the servants of the people." But the present plan proceeds on the doctrine of despots, that the people are the servants of the government. Parents are bidden to stand aside, and betray their rights and duties, while little State officials usurp their powers of creating schools, electing teachers, and ordaining methods. The other was, that our wise fathers, by this simple plan, resolved the otherwise insoluble difficulty about the religion of the schools, which is now involving the friends of State educa- tion in the North and in Europe, in inexplicable entanglements. On the one hand, if the State is to act fairly and honestly up to her pledge to sever herself from the Church, she cannot incul- cate one religion to the exclusion of the others. On the other hand, it is an Atheistic outrage on the Christians, who compose the larger part of the citizens, to intrude between them and their children, and then give them a godless, which, as we have shown, must be an ungodly education. We have again and again warned the advocates of the Yankee State theory, that the entanglement was insoluble, and that the practical result will surely be, that the attitude of our constitutions will en- able the infidel party to triumph everywhere, to expel the Bi- ble and Christianity from all the schools, and to rear us (so far as State schools go) a generation of Atheists. This is to be the practical issue of their misguided zeal — the issue \\hicli is, in fact, ra'pidlv establishing itself in the Northwest to-day. Now, all this difficulty was avoided by our fathers' plan. The State, which knows no church in preference to another, did not create schools; did not usurp that parental function; did not elect the teachers; did not ordain their discipline or religious character. Parents have the right to do all these things in the lights of their own consciences and spiritual liberty, and the parents made the schools. No other solution wall ever be found that is as good. R. L. DABNEY. LECTURE' COMMENDATION OF THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY It is now fashionable with many advocates of physical science, to denounce this study as useless. The subject to-night will be the inquiry, Is this so? Or is it still true, that "the proper study of mankind is man?" Bur we must define what we discuss. There is a tradition that the old Greek philosopher. Pythagoras, when asked, -ooian/r h: replied ••'• ,'"''•, '^"oiar Ae oi/JK. "Wisdom'' here meant, knowledge of the mental principles which regulate all other knowledge. It was, I be- lieve, H. Crabb. Robinson, who asked Goethe if he was read- ing any philosophy; when he said: "No; I do not proipose at this time, to do any thinking about thinking." This is a very good definition of philosophic thought. Thinking how the mind rightly thinks. It is usually regarded as including, 1. Psychology, or the "natural history" of the human mind. 2. Logic. 3. Ethics, or the principles of dusy 4. Ontology, or the science of real existences. 5. Nat. Theology: The inquiry after the P^rst Causes. The grounds on which philosophy is usually disparaged are these: First. That there can be no true science, except it be founded throughout on a basis of facts. How do we ascertain facts? Yiy actual observation. The instruments of observa- tion are our senses. But mind and its processes are not obsei- vable by our senses. Hence, second. There can be no true sci ence, save of phenomena (changes in objects cognizable by our senses) and their laivs. Third. The history of philosophy con- firms this: they say. ii has never had any certainty. It settles nothing, but keeps its doctrines in endless debate. Every new age presents a new philosophy, which is built up only to be de- molished by the next age; whereas physical science is settled; it is "positive," it establishes its permanent laws, which thence- 1. Public Lecture. University of Texas. Dec. 1885. 281 282 LECTUEE. forward abide to bless and help mankind with their applicn- tians. A striking- instance of this charge is presented by Mr. O. II. Lewes, who writes a ''History of Philosophy'' with the purpose, as he says, of proving that there is no philosophy. This strikes me very much as though a man should trouble himself to write a biography of Wm. Tell, far the purpose of proving there had never been any Tell! Mr. Lewes thinks philosophy a Ininibug. Tile man wliu writes a whole history of a huml)ug is in great danger of making his book a humbug 1 Men are arguing here, under this illusion, that it is tlie bodily senses alone which give palpable, solid facts; beguiled by that feature of jbtrusiveness and familiarity, which marks our bodily sensations. Hence their baseless notion, that ail doctrines about Mind, that intangible and invisible thing, are but vague speculations af which there is no stable way to con- vince othei men. But the science of mind is a science of ob- servatian. and is based on facts, the most solid kind of bottom- facts: The facts of consciousness. ''Ah," they reph'; ''of con- sciousness! Another shadowy, abstraction among faculties! Give us facts of eyesight!"' Ver\'well. Let us take the most familiar and homely case. Your eyes, nose and palate, you think authorize you solidly to say: "I see my breakfast." " But in saying that, you have said, I, Ego, Self! And the ego. the self, has been the subject of your proposition, the nomi- tive to your verb ''see.'' So that to know your breakfast, you must tirst have known yourself, as a Mind capable of consciousness and thought, believing in its own existence and identity, and furnishing from its own inner powers the CDUception of space, position, and the ather relations in which the breakfast is seen to exist. You must have a knowledge of this Self in order to have a knowl- edge of your breakfast. You can only believe in your break- fast by means of believing in this self, this mind, and its laws, which shows you the outer object. If your belief in your mind is n3t solid, still les.s can the belief in your breakfast be. this hangs on that. What a delusion then, to say that your break- fast is a fact of observation, and yet. 1 its laws and jiowers. - your 3 mind, are not! While shut up in this room, you could fast is a fact of observation, and yet. (1) its laws and powers. (2) your, (3) mind, are not! While shut up in this room, you LECTURE. 283 could only see one of those trees, by looking through a window. And the window is nearer to yoii than the tree. So that you cannot know the tree as a fact of observation, ivithout having first knomn the window as a fact of abservation. So, yon can never reason, wirliout liavin;i\ beforehand, and in order ti> your rea- soning, s:)me principle or axiom, 7vhich you reason by. Try it. You reason, f;)r instance: "Men must t)e real free agents, be- cause a just (jod liolds tlieni responsible." Kiglit. But your mind saw this inference to be right, only because you were guided by tliis prior, self-evident princi'ple that free agency is necessary to my just responsibility. If your inference is solid, the principle it hangs on must be more solid. But that is an abstract principle in philosophy! And when you argue with your fellow man, you know that y :>u can only convince him of your inference, by means of that same first principle regulat- ing his mind and thought, just as it does yours. If you did nor think so, you would deem it just as seusible to argue Avith your liDrse, as your neighbor. And so, all around, we find that our ''facts" of sensation are only certain to our knowledge on condition we believe in these inner ''facts"' of mind, the gen- eral and, if you will, abstract principles of thought, which regulate the action of all faculties, fvnn the olfactory, up to conscience. You have had to philosophize, in spite of yourself, in order to use your nose, your fingers, and your eyes and ears. You may be in the condition of astonishment of Moliere's gen- tilhoome bourgeois, 31. Jourdain, who, when his literary teach- er showed him the distinction of i)rose and verse, was very much surprised to find that he had been speaking prose all his life! You have been obliged to proceed, in all your knowledge, on this much abused philosophy, all along! It may be well just here to illustrate farther the fact that every man philosophizes, "will he, nill he," if he thinks. Here is a plain carpenter, who on ^londay takes up the Initchet he had sharpened and used Saturday. It proved itself of good steel, temper and edge, then. Will it cut well this m )rning? Assuredly it will, says the honest man. Bnt may it not \\\\\v changed its nature since Saturday, althongh not meddled with in any way? Is it obliged to be steel now, because it was steel then; may it not now be of soft iron? or lead? "No!" he ex- claims. "That's absurd!'' But why absurd, Mr. Carpenter? 284 LECTUEE. Perhaps lie had not thought it out in full form; but now that you press him to do so, he tells you: no change could have been made in the metal without some cause; and that "he knows by looking at it," i. e., by its sensible properties, that ir is still steel. That is all very plain and simple; but this car- penter has now pDsited three of the most profound general truths of abstract philosophy: The necessary law of causa- tion; the continuity and permanency of substantive being; and the inseparable union of attributes to their substance. He has been dealing in the depths of ontology I He has even de- cided the philosophic axiom ou which the theological argu- ment for and against the sacrament of the mass turns! Quite a philosopher he! A pump-maker brings you a new pump. He knows that the piston, valves and air-tight joints are precisely like those of other pumps in actual use. You ask, "Has this pump ever been tried?" "No, sir."" "Then how do jdu know it will draw any water?" "Oh, sir, it will be sure to draw. My other pumps made like it, do." Here he posits another prime maxim of philosophy: "Like causes are sure to produce like effects." Messrs. Huxley, Comte, Tindal »& Co. abuse philosophy, r.nd applaud science. I ask them, can a scienee be built up by hypotheses alone? Oh, no! But why not? Why is inductive demonstration necessary? The answer is iphilosophy: logic. Does the frequent observation of a '-post hoc'' prove a 'prop, ter hocf' Oh, no: that is not valid induction. Why not? The answer, again, is philosophy: logic. Xow, one may exclaim in surprise: How is it that we have all been philoso'phers unconsciously^ and have spoken ill of the philosoiphy we all nevertheless employ? The answer is, that the fundamental laws of thought are self- executive. The kind Creator has, fortunately for us, ordained them so that they usually put themselves in operation and work aright, without our adverting to them, or choosing how they are to work. Then, you may ask: Is not the study of them as unnecessary as theii- action is unavoidable? I reply: the case is much like that of the muscles and tendons in a healthy boy's limbs. He does not know their names, number, or position; but none the less kind nature makes them obey liis will; and he makes as good a run at football, as the best anatomist. The studv of :iu:itomv is LKCTtTRfi. 385 then uselosis? No: suppose the time coiik's wlieii that boy has to amputate your limb! Anatomy will be very desirable f^r him then. And it will be a very g-ood thing for him now; to teach him prudence in using that neat pair of legs of his, that he may not strain them the wrong way — ^or put a force on them they were not made for. To the objection that pliilosophy is ever changing and un- settled, and has established no fixed principles of science, I re- ply by a denial. Philosophy has established a good many prin- ciples,— such as those named above. The most discordant schools teach them: the only difference between them has been as to the methods of establishing them. There have been many differing schools, rational, empeirical, ideal, pantheistic, spir- itualistic, materialistic: from the Academy of Plato down to the "Concord school'': from Pythagoras to Hegel. But there have always been parts of })hilosoiphy, which have remained fixed. Since Aristotle wrate his Analytics, no philosopher has successfully disputed the main doctrine of the syllogism. With the great mass of philosophers the natural theology of Zeno- phon's Mem. has continued to this day, the true, natural the- ology. Even in the most litigated branch of philosophic psych- ology, the orthodox school have always taught a doctrine sub- stantially orthodox, and the same doctrine: Augustine, Aquin- as, Anselm in the middle ages. If Locke, after Hobbes, taught a scheme conceding too much to sensation, Shaftesbury aud Stillingheet in England, and Leibnitz in (xermany, refuted him, and taught the correct scheme. ()\('r against Cordillac, the sensationalist, stood Roger Collard. Against Hume stood Dr. Thomas Keid: against the Mills, .James and J. S. stood Ham- ilton. Were w^e inclined to retort, we might ask, whether all the parts of professed (physical science are stable and undisputed? Are there no mutations and debates there? PJlven the science of optics, newly created by Newton almost two centuries ago, is still uncertain whether her undulatory theory is true or not. Geology, though a science of the rocks, still Huctuates in many places like an unsteady sea. Its British Corypheus, Sir Charles Lyell, is said to have edited eleven editions of liis own master- piece, his "Principles of Geology"; and in every edition to have amended and contradicted something in the previous one. Men ^Se LECTURE. diliei- by hundreds of thousands of yeni's about tlicii- ^hicuii age. Its stratigraphy is in some parts conjectural. The sci- ence of medicine, in many of its parts, is so uncertain and var- iable, as to provoke tlie gibe, that the doctors change as much in their fashions as the ladies do about their bonnets. In phil- ology, two theories of the origin of language still contend for the mastery. Astronomers are not yet certain whether the nebular hypothesis is the true account of the origin of worlds, or whether the new star in Andromeda has not exploded it into a fiction even thinner than nebular ''star-dust." Chemistry still has its doubts and its revolutions. Has it found out all the simple substances? Or has it counted too many of them? Has Ktpule convinced all the chemistsyetof his theory of insomor- pliic compounds? These questions remind us, that uncertainty and change are the traits of other sciences besides the phil- osophic. It is often asked, tauntingly, what practical results has philosophy yielded for man? Look what physical science has done to ameliorate man's existence, to improve his means of subsistence, to palliate his diseases! It has taught mankind to subjugate nature, to utilize the lightning, to bridge mighty floods, to navigate the trackless oceans. Since the days of Lord Bacon, and under his guidance, phj'sical science has al- most made mankind a new race, in a new and better world. But what practical results does philosophy show? We will tell you anon, how she rendered an essential aid in all these material exploits. But we wish, as we pass along, to expose another large hallucination just here. First, education has two results: one, the communication of knowledge of facts; the oth- er, the cultivation of the faculties and moral character. Of these, the latter is far the more valuable. Even on the lowest utilitarian view, it is better to have that culture, which enables the mind rapidly to gather the facts it may find useful, than to have, toy borrowing, a set of facts without the ability to get more. It is better to have a well built mill, which can grind endless quantities of flour as needed, than to have numerous barrels of flour, with no machinery to grind more wlien need- ed. But farther: knowledge is valuable as a means: the man himself is the end. Hence, the culture which ennobles and makes the student more a man, bears most directly on the true LECTURE. Oc^7 end. Uiu the stuily of pliilosoipliy, even if it left no kno\vle(l}:;(' of useful facts, would still be the most valuable; because it conduces so ipowerfully to cultivate the soul, to sharpen the discrimination, and train the reason. The Germans very happily call the "practical" lu-anches, "the bread and butter sciences." They win the material means of living and luxury. This commercial age exalts them for that reason; but under an illusion. No one will dispute this truth, that these material luxuries are means, not ends. They are not valued in themselves, as we value the friend we love, but 'because their consumption ministers to us some pleasure. The epicure values his luxurious dish of fresh oysters, not as oyst- ers^ — -as such they ferment and decay — ^but as representing so many pulses of pleasure in his own consciousness, to be de- rived from their consumption. All these things are only means of happiness. Where is happiness: in the oysters, or in the soul? And what is happiness? The beast would have a sim- ple answer: In eating and lying down to chew the cud. But he who would not degrade himself to a brute-level, must give the higher answer of philosophj-: "Hapi)iness is virtuous en- ergy-." Happiness is the right, harmonious and successful ex- ercise of man's powers. And the higher the powers exercised, the higher the happiness. The noibler mental activities, tlien, are as much more valuable tlian material good, as the end is more valuable than the means. Those activities, those studies are happiness: the material goods are but means to happiness, uncertain, partial means; and the sciences called practical, if valued only for their ''bread and butter" results, only means to those means. As was mentioned, those wlio laud the plnsical sciences as the onl}' studies worthy of pursuit, date their splendid career from Bacon. It began, they say, by his teaching us how to in- vestigate material nature. But I ask. was it a physical science which taught that? By no means. It was ])liilosophyI Ba- M'hich taught that? By no means. It vas philosophy. Bacon's Novum. Organum is solely and purely a discussion of a meta- physical subject: What is inductive proof? the highest and most abstruse branch of logic. There is not a physical prob- lem discussed or settled in the whole book, except one: ''Wliat is the nature of calorie?" And that is introduced solely to 2SS liECtURj!. iilii.sri'ate the application of the metaphysical principle to phy- sical inquiiy. This, then, is an illustrious instance of the truth that, while the physical sciences are the handmaids of man's material welfare, they have to look to philosophy to show them how to /proceed for this end. Take this parable. Let us sup- pose that building houses was truly "the chief end of man," in- stead of a mere means for his comfort. Then the carpenter would ibe the true hero. And his tools would be Ms noble weapons. But without the ^«// whetstont: these tools would cease to cut and shape the lumber! It is then as essential as any tool. Thus, philosophy may at least say, in the words of Horace: Ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum Reddere quae femme valei exsors ipsa secandi. Nothing can more strongly illustrate the dependence of all other spheres of thought on -philosophy for guidance than this question touching the conditions of scientific belief. Will you believe what you cannot understand? Should any amount of evidence make a'ou do so? Sound physical science, like sound philosophy, answers: Yes. Mystery, even when incom- prehensible, is no sufficient evidence a statement may not be true. There is no department of truths, not even the most fa- miliar, that does not Include, or at least imply, incomprehensi- ble propositions. Will 3-0U believe what contradicts a necessary judgment of the mind, and fundamental law of thought? No. There is no amount of evidence sufficient to make you do that. For, 3^ou would argue, in doing that, you would so infringe the very conditions of rational belief as to leave the mind incom- petent for any act of judgment. I cannot surrender these neces- sary laws of thought, in order to believe the statement which contradicts them, for if I did I should thereby become incapa- ble of valid thought, and so, of rational belief. My assent to truth would be as valueless as that of the pig grunting his as- sent to a mathematical theorem. The derationalized being can- not believe. But now, your assent to these tw^o questions has made It most imperative for you to be prepared with an answer to an- other question: Which are the fundamental laws of thought? If the very condition of credibility of the statements offered you, the very possibility of believing them, is conditioned on their not contradicting those vital rules, you must be able to Sdy li'/iu/i ihu^e tuies ate. But tliis question lakes yju iuiu ihe very lieart of philosophy. To settle wliat are the truly funda- mental and necessary laws of thought. To distinguish them by sure traits from other judgments, which habit, imitation or prejudice may have made us regard, though unwarrantably, as very essential truths; this requires the most thorough explora- tion of consciousness, and the most careful speculation. Is this a necessary and fundamental judgement: That the same finite thing cannot be at the same time in two places? Or this: That a material substance cannot change while all its sensible prop- erties continue the same? Or the logical laws of identity, con- tradiction and excluded middle? Or, the law of causation: that no new effect can arise without adequate cause, and that like causes must always produce like effects? If these are neces- sar}' principles of thought, you may reject any amount of pro- fessed evidence for a contrary statement, assuring yourselves that "there must be some mistake." If you confound some dic- tate of habit or prejudice with the.se, you may be fighting against the truth. And, in fact, the history of opinion is full of just such confusions. And nothing but a very deep phil- osophy can unravel them! Once more: Sir Wm. Hamilton very justly asserts, that philosophy is necessary — at least to all who do not believe the Brble, to know whether there is a God. Certainly He is not audible, visible, or tangible; so that the question cannot be set- tled by observation with our senses. We see very clearly that most of the tilings in this world are temporal and dependent beings; as the plants, the trees, the animals, the humans. Go back in time far enough and we reach the date when they were not. We cannot think they created themselves. Is it then a necessary law of thought, that we must reason back from the dependent, to some independent I>eing; from the temporal to the eternal? And if yes: Is this etenial Being self-existent? Is he living; or as Mr. H. Spencer says: is it not a He, but an It, an eternal, blind, physical force? Is He or It intelligent? Is He a free agent? Has He a moral character, and is that char- acter bad or good? All these are questions of philosophy! But they are the most practical questions in the universe. Can there be any prayer, or not? Is there any providence? Is there any hereafter? Is my dead child annihilated? And will I be re- 290 LECTURE. sponsible iu that hereafter for my conduct here? Can I enjo}^ any religious hope, or must I be an atheist, '"without God, and without hope in the world?" The disparagers of philosophy are fond of saying, that the exact sciences give them solid f Doting on the earth; but phil- osophy is a changing and fickle "cloudland." Let ns accept the similitude for a moment. We are then reminded that it is from this cloud-land the most beneficent, and the most destruc- tive agencies descend, which bless or devastate the habitations of men. From those shifting clouds falls the gentle rain, which waters the earth and makes it bring forth ''bread for the eater and seed for the sower." Thence also descends the tornado, which wrecks the costliest works of man, and crushes him a mangled worm under their fragments. Thence leaps down the thunderbolt, wh'ich shivers his towers and scorches him with instant death. Philosophy is the cloud-land? So be it. This metaphor then reminds us of the great practical truth: That it is opin- ion, which really rules the world, for weal or woe. And these governing opinions, which when popularized, become the mc:5t practical guides of action, and the most tangible and concrete blessings or cur-ses of mankind, have their source in the ab- stract regions of philosophy. The thinker finds them there, rightfully or wrongfully, and impelled by their logic becomes their apostle, and in turn impels the reasons of the multitude to deeds of heavenly beneficence or of relentless cruelty. You have all heard of the religious persecutions of the middle ages. Let me raise before you the picture of one scene, typical of a thousand others as ghastly. It is about A. D. 1210. His holi- ness, Innocent III., Pope of Rome, has proclaimed a crusade against the peaceful Albigenses in the South of France, and promised valuable ''indulgences" to all who will assist to de- stroy them. The city of Bezieses in Languedoc is crowded with these hapless people, who have at last stood at bay for their lives, with their wives and children, intermingled with a multitude of devout Roman Catholics. Seventy thousand souls throng the beleaguered town; when breaches are made and the fierce soldiery, inflamed almost to phrensy by the desperate re- sistance, are ordered to enter and put every soul to the sword. The Bishop Arnauld Amaieu, is there as representative of the LEOTtfRE. 291 Pope, to guide and bless their efforts in rlie name of the ''Prince cf Peace." Even the executioners asked, by what sig'u they shoukl distin^uisli heretic from (>;.)0(\ ("atholic, so as to spare the Latter. "Kill them all," cried his holiness. "The Lord will know his own!'' And all: helpless babes, pious Catholics, as well as dissenting Albigenses, perished in one remorseless slaughter. But these butchers sup})Osed that they were only acting out their philosophy consistently. Is man responsible for his be- liefs on moral subjects, or not? This is a question of moral philosophy. If he is, then ought this wrong believer {mescreant) to be punished for his error? Why not? It is wrong. It is a responsible wrong. It is a most mischievous wrong. The here- tic may do more hurt to human welfare, especially when the eternal consequences of soul-destroying error are included, than all the horse thieves, burglars, and freebooters in the world. Why, then, should society hang the horse thieves, and allow to the heretics immunity? Is it not unequal, unfair, un- just? And since Rome teaches that her Poipes are the God- appointed depositories of doctrinal infallibilit}', and guardians of (xospel trutli, why should not the Pope direct the sword of justice? And why should we not deem the stern severity of the execution to be righteousness and not cruelty, as we do when the sheritf executes the grim sentence of the law on the felon, with almost infinite pity concealed in his heart, and yet under the impulse of an i\^vi\\\duty ^ which leaves him no option? Plant those propositions sincerely in the conviction of these persecutors' minds; and their bloody acts are the consistent re- sult. Now, we Americans are blindly and passionately attach- ed to liberty of thought and denounce the wickedness of perse- cution for opinion's sake. I propose to you to take that chain of propositions which I stated, and show the flaw in their con- nection. You find them apparently an iron chain. Where will you break it? at which link? Only philosophy can show you how to break it. If you reject her aid, you stand in an attitude more amiable, indeed, than the persecutor; but in which your amiability is a logical inconsistency. Again: we have all heard the famous maxim: "All men are by nature equal.''' There are two species of equality. There is the equality of British freedom, whose watchword is: ''Ev- 292 LECTURE. ery Englishman is equal before the law." It does not mean that the peasant is equal to tlie peei- in the list of his particular franchises — these are very dift'erent. But the peasant has the same right to his narrower franchises as the peer has to his wider. The same law protects both, on the same 'fundamental principles of justice. The maxim, in this sense, does not assert that nature has made men literally equal in strength, in sex, in capacity of mind, in virtue, in fortitude, in health. Hence it holds that a true and equitable equality must distribute dif- ferent grades of franchise to these different beings, according to their capacities to use them. It does not hold that the child justly wields the same set of privileges as the father. It does not believe that the woman has, for instance, the same "in- alienable" right to sing 'bass and wear a beard with her hus- band. Eut this maxim, after leaving Providence to distribute to different classes of mankind the several allotments of privi- lege they have capacity to improve aright, claims for the pro- tection of all the common sanction of justice and the golden rule. Then, there is the equality of the Jaeobin: a very different thing, which teaches that mechanical sameness of function, franchise and privilege, in each detail, is a right; "inalienable," "natural" and "self-evident." That w'hatever particular fran- chise is enjoyed by the highest citizen, must also be attainable by the lowest; or these sacred intuitions are outraged. The question between these is a question in philosophy: not a very easy one, if we may judge 'by the frequency with which think- ing men confuse the two together. Let us see what practical fruits this confusion of two abstract theories has borne. One crop of those fruits might have been seen in Paris a century ago. "The Reign of Terror" was established. The guillotine stood before the Thuilleries "f supply and demand. This law in- structs us that generally the relation of supply to demand in any commodity must regulate its price. Under this law all pro duction must proceed in civilized society. It is under this law the capitalist must produce and market the goods brought forth by his mine or his factory. It is under this law the farmer and planter must rear and sell their crops. Labor is also a com- modity as truly as wheat, or cotton, or cloth. All though citizens THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 299 whose circumstances prevent the successful forniariou of hibor unions must also contract to sell their labor under the domin- ion of this same law of demand. If the supply otfered in the market exceeds the demand, the price must go down : the gen- eral law is inexorable: the producers of that commodity must submit to receive less for what they have to sell, and so content themselves with smaller profits; or they must find means t€ produce their commodity more cheaply. Particular circum- stances may in some cases suspend the working of this law partially and tem])orarily. But as a general law it is as preva- lent and regular as the law of gravitation in jihysics. The ad- vocates of labor unions do not pretend t:i deny — they expressly avow — that the purpose and end of their system is to contra- vene this law as to the commodity which they have to sell, that is a particular form of labor. They perceive that the labor union and tlie strike are expedients from which the great ma- jority of their fellow citizens are utterly precluded by the na- ture of their occupations, and that is the very reason why ike nnionists value these (xpedients. They know }»erfectly, that if all the other fojrms of labor in the commonwealth found it equally feasible to protect their own occujiations from the law of supply and demand by their own labor unions and strikes, the whole .system would be nugatory. For instance, what the spinners in a factory gained by forcing uj) their wages, would be neutralized by what they would lose to the farmers when they came to buy their food; if the farmers also could have a labor union which would force up the price of their crops pro- portionately and equitably. From this point of view the thoughtful reader sees, that labor unions are rather conspiracies against fellow citizens and fellow laborers, than against oppressive employers. AYe ob- serve that these societies thrive chiefly among operatives in mines and factories, among classes of artisans in towns, among printers, among the eniitloyes of railroad lines, or )f wliarves or shipj»ing. This is because circumstances peculiar to their oc- cupations render their measures feasible and convenient. Eith- er they live in the same village or they can easily meet; there is a uniformity in each industry; their compensation is imme- diately in money- wages for labor. But let us observe how nu- merous and vast classes of meritorious laborers are entirely 300 THE LABOR UNION. THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. prevented from combining successfnllv to force their wages up b}' strikes. The maid-servants and cooks of America, the hun- dreds and thousands of schDol-ma'ams who teach the chihlren of the country for i)auper wages, the millions of hired farm la- borers, the more numerous millions of yeoman farmers who till thciv little farm with their own hands, the still larger mil- lions of toiling nnthers and housewives are precluded from forming any effective labor unions by their dispersion over a vast continent, their diversities of condition, their varieties of products, and indirect mode in which they receive their final compensation; nudes involved in commercial complications where the law of supply and demand must inevitably rule. Here appear at once the real purpose and the iniquity of our exist- ing system of labor unions. C. D. is a weaver in a cloth factory. Mj-. E. F. is an honest farmer who must buy a good deal of this cloth to clothe his family and himself. One element of the cost of the cloth to E. F. is the wage of C. D., the weaver; but C. D. has resolved that E. F., his fellow citizen and equal, shall not buy that element in the value of the cloth at that equitable rate which should be generally dictated by the law of supply and demand: C. D. will force up that price against that farmer by the artificial forces of his monopoly-ring, his threats and his strikes. But (\ D. fully expects ta buy the bread and meat for his family from tlu^ farmer, E. F., under the strict operation of supply and deuiand. There is equity and democratic equality with a vengeance! But should any law or labor union enable the farmer to enhance the price of his food-products above mar- ket rates as determined by supi)ly and demand, C. D. would de- clare himself much outraged. His labor union is a good rule for him: but it must not "work both ways." I have now brought the reader to a point of view from which the justice of three practical remarks will be self-evi- dent. When labor unionists denounce the great "trusts" of the capitalists, the oil, or sugar trust, as monopolies, *'e have a curious instance of inconsistency and insolence. What are their societies but labor-monopolies? In every essential feature they are the iniquities which the trusts are, only upon a smaller scale. And when political demagogues adopt the cause of these labor unions, to cater for their votes, under the pretense of de- mocracy, they are doing the most anti-democratic thing possi- THE liAfiOR UNION, T&E STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 8ul ble. Their cry is: "For tlie masses against (lie classes!" Vei thej are assisting- a narrow class to i)lnnder the masses of their fellow citizens. The second thing to be noted is, the gronndless and impu- dent claim of these labor unions that they are contending for the "rights of American labor." This tacitly assumes that the small minority of persons who belong to labor unions are the only people in America who labor. I may digress for a mo- ment to add, that the same insolent falsehood is obtruded whenever the tariff system claims to be protective of American la'bor: as though, forsooth, the factory hands working upon pro- tected manufactures were the only people who perform deserv- ing labor! Whereas it has been perfectly proved a hundred times that this class of laboring men are but a few hundreds of thousands among the millions who labor in America; that they were already better paid than the average of their breth- ren; and that this "protection'' is but a legalized method to en- able them to take something from the unprotected earnings of their fellow citizens without value received, and to add it to their own. To return: there are a few hundreds of thousands of labor unionists in the United States. The census of 1890 shows that at most there may be four millions of persons en- gaged in occupations whose conditions render a labor union possible, but there are seven and a half millions engaged in the heavier labor of agriculture, under hotter suns and freezing winds, to whom the arts of the labor union are impossible. They must produce and sell their crops under the inexorable operation of the law of supply and demand. And if over sup- ply or partial legislation reduces the price of their products below the cost of production, these millions must simply en- dure it. Methinks if there could be any honest labor union to "protect the rights of American labor," it should be one wdiich would lift the wages of these tillers of the soil nearer the level enjoyed by the unionists. The average American yeoman earns about fifty cents per diem with coarse fare by his heavy roil, if we deduct from the price of his farm products a moderate interest upon the capital which he employs, and all the other elements of the cost of pro- duction, except th(^ manual laboi'. In the neighboring town, the unionist bricklayer or ])lasierer scorns to lift his trowel for 802 THE LABOR TTNIOW, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMFNfi. less than five dollars per da}'. There are a thousand farm la borers to one bricklayer. Yet this one tells us that his con spirac}^ is for the protection of labor! And what shall we say of the myriads of rural artisans who cannot form labor unions; of the hundreds of thousands of poor teachers and school- ma'ams whose wages are twenty-five dollars per month with- out boarding, for four or five months of the year? And what of the twelve millions of mothers and housewives who labor for their food and clothing in the most wearying of all tasks, year in and year out, not under an eight hour rule, you may be sure I but somewhere between twelve and eighteen and even twenty hours out of the twenty-four? Are all these not labor- ers because they cannot be "knights of labor?" Yet the direct effect of the arts of the labor unions is: to raise the price of every roof which shelters, of every chimney and every pound of coal which warms, and of every yard of cloth which covers these worse paid laborers in favor of a small minority already overpaid in comparison. I am not oblivious of the plea that skilled labor is entitled to higher remuneration. The assumption is that all the forms of labor of the unions are skilled labor; while the toils of these ill-paid masses are unskilled labor. This is exactly false. For instance the effective farm laborer is far more a skilled work- man than the bricklayer. The latter has one dexterity which is quite admirable: he strews a handful of mortar from his trowel more quickly, and he presses down brick after briclc with its face to the line, more deftly than the plowman could. Very true. But that plowman must be atole to do with equal deft- ness a dozen dilferent things neither of which the bricklayer can do, and in attempting several of which he would be likely to wound himself or break his own neck. This farm laborer must be a horse breaker, must know how to guide the plow, to wield the hoe so as to "cut away the spire of crab grass" within half an inch of the tender cotton stalk without scratching it. He must wield the ax, he must be a rough carpenter ; he must be butcher, knowing how to dress a mutton or a swine; he must milk the cow; he must mount the dangerous mowing machine and guide it; he must manage the complicated threshing ma- chine and gin; he must pick two hundred and fifty pounds of seed cotton per day, where the bricklayer could not get one TflE LABOR UNtoN, THE STRtKE AND THE COMMUMR. 'SOS hundred. Ir is the farmer wlio is the skilled laborer, and by that principle otight to receive the higher remuneration. The third point being noted is, the fatuity of the so-called People's party in associating themselves with the labor union? in their present passionate efforts to right the wrongs of the farmers. They are precisely as wise as would be the shepherd dogs who should insist upon enlisting the wolves along with themselves to guard the flock. The interests of the Granger masses and of the labor unionists are directly liostile. For in- stance, here is the yoeman farmer who is toiling to pay off a mortgage on his homestead at a real wage of about fift^- cents per day (deducting fair compensation for the employment of his capital, teams, implements, etc.) Does he need a cottage, a chimney in it, a farm wagon, a thresher, a mower, a buggy plow, a rotary harrow? The labor union men are compelling him to pay much high- er prices for each of these things, by their conspiracies. For, of course, all these contractors and manufacturers add in the inflated prices of the unionist labor, in addition to their own lU'ofits. upon the cost of every thing they furnish the farmer. But these unionists are drawing from two and a half to five dollars per day for their work, while the farmer gets an half dollar per day for his work. He must sell everything his farm ])roduces (the source out of which he at last gets his scanty earnings) under the resistless law of supply and demand, while they are so juggling with the arts of their conspiracy as to free themselves from that law. Yet we shall find this fatuous Granger enraged against the loan corporation which lent him good money on his own terms, at his earnest entreaty, and fra- ternizing with the knights of laTior who are covertly skinning him! The principles of the labor unions is virtual Communism. It is instructive to watch the proofs of this truth presented by the development of the union system in Great Britain. The British Libei-als in 1845, represented by Josei»h IIuuu' ami the famous Free Trade Society, announced the laissez nous Jaire free trade in commodities, and free trade in labor, as tlie very gospel of economics and politics. The first half of the doctrine repealed the protective tariff' of Britain and placed her manu- factures and commerce upon that enlightened basis of thorough ^(H THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE ANt) THE COMMUNJ!. tree trade, wliicli founded the new era of marvelous progress and prosperity. The second half of the doctrine embodied the essence of the Exeter Hall at anti-slavery. Free trade in labor meant for Joseph Hume and his friends that every laborer should be a free man with the right to make his own contracts of labor to suit himself; but to make them, like the farmer, the manufacturer and the merchant, under the common regulation of the law of supply and demand. Obviousljs equity demands that if the principle of free trade is to govern other commodi- ties it must also govern labor. For labor is as truly a com- modity to be bought and sold, as cloth, or wheat, or iron, or sugar. To enforce the production and sale of all the latter un- der the free law of supply and demand, while the other com- modity, labor, is fenced against that law, is obvious chiss legislation and injustice to others. Hence, the Anti-Corn Law League hated tariffs and domestic slavery with a hatred equally intense and holy. It is true, that under this free trade regime the property and capital of I^ritain have made an enormous spring and dou'bled themselves in one generation. It is also true that under the same benignant regimen the labor of the proletariat gained greatly in its remuneration, and the comfort of its condition. Measured in gold, the average of their wages has advanced twenty per cent, since 1845; whilst the purchas- ing power of this increasing wage has been doubled by the re- sults of free trade in commodities and in labor. But these happy consequences do not at all satisfy the la- boring men of Britain or the advanced Liberals. The former have generally adopted, with passion, the system of labor unions and strikes; the latter have pushed their theories through so- cialism to the verge of communism. Both the laborers and their theorists now reject with heat the dogma of free trade in labor. They declare that it is tyrannical, cruel, and the direct road to a wage slavery as degrading and detestable as African slavery it- self. They assert the inherent right of the labor unions to en- force their demands for higher wages by violence if necessary, notwithstanding the facts, that this enforcement is a virtual confiscation of the personal property of the employers at the will of others, in the form of this increment of wage, that it is an infringement of the right of non-union men, their own free equals, to work lor such terms as suit themselves; and that the tHE LABOR UNION, THE STRTKK AND THE COMMUME. 305 system organized a rebellious impirium in imptrio civiiaiis, iisurping a part of its functions and forces. The snciali.=!r.s ar- gue that since their strikes are futilities unless employers and non-union men can be prohibited by force from contracting with each other, these "scabs," thus accepting the places which the union men have rejected, make themselves the enemies of labor, and are therefore the proper objects of hostility and co- ercion. They say there is this essential difference between free trade in commodities (which they admit is all very well) and free trade in labor: that the goods bought and sold under free trade are n9n-sentient and feel no pangs of destitution; but the laborers have muscles and nerves to be worn by overwork, and stomachs to be pinched by hunger, and hearts to be wrung by the poverty of their families: therefore, the laborers ought to be entitled to protect their commodity, labor, against these consequences of free trade. This is, of course, a very shallow sophism, since the goods subjected to the rigorous law of sup- ply and demand are imbued with the element of labor, since their sale is the only medium through which the labor involved in them can get its wage and thus the price of the goods touches the welfare of the laborers who produce them, just as effec- tively as the price of the labor itself. The socialists then adopt in substance, though perhaps not avowedly, the Malthusian principle of the pressure of population upon the means of sub- sistence. They argue thus; let the capitalists enjoy free trade in labor, hiring their operatives at whatever price the relation of supply and demand may dictate; then as the proletariat in- creases in numbers, wages will go down until they reach the lowest level of that wretched subsistence which enables the la- borers only to exist, to be miserable, and to propagate heirs to their misery. Tlieir cry now is, "Down with free trade in labor; up with the labor union, the strike, and the forcible coercion of the scab, the traitorous enemy of his class." Let the student see for instance this drift in the recent work of ^Mr. Benjamin Kid, entitled, "Social Evolution." In this new phase and deduction of Malthusianism, there is unquestionable truth. It has been verified a hundred times in the depression, in the deficient compensation and misery of free laborers, in hireling commonwealths. Another admission must be made. No existing commonwealth organized exclusively 806 THE LABOE UNION, THE STKIKE AND THE COMMUNE. upon the hireling labor rlien'v has vet found a full remedy for this de'plora'ble tendency, no matter how liberal or even demo- cratic its constitution. Sentimentalists may kick against a great Malthusian law, may call it anti harvesting the products of his little orchards and fields, when a sturdy loafer demanded a bag of apples and potatoes, with the plea that he had neither money nor provisions for his family. ''And who might you be?" asked the farmer. "A strik- ing miner, out of work for many weeks, with the Reserve Fund of the Union utterly exhausted, and the strike unadjusted." "'And," inquired the farmer, "why did you strike at first?" "Because the company," said the miner, with sundry indignant epithets, "refused to raise our daily wages from one and a half dollars to one and three-fourths." "So," said the honest far- mer, "I earned my farm, working at one-half dollar per day, and you reject work at three times that price. None of my apples or potatoes are for such as you." The farmer was right. The acts of the oligarchies are aggravated in injustice by the fact that they were already better paid than the majorityi ajrainst whom they would enhance prices. The svstem also carries intrinsic iniustice to the capital- THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 313 ists in two ways: First, that it demands vii'tually tlie Hght of making both sides of the bargain in this eantract of hibor and wages. Eaeh party is entitled to make his own side of the bar- gain; or if the otfer made him from the other side does not suit him, to withdraw. There is no visible limit to the degree of this injustice. Strikers say they strike, because wages go below the limit of comfortable support. But what is a comfortable sup- 'port for a working man? If the strikers are to decide, it may mean Havana cigars, canvass-back ducks and trutities, with Cha- teau Margaux wine. The system encourages limitless extrava- gance and waste; all at the expense of other peoi)le's capital and of the other parts of the working public; second, the capi- talists in selling the products of their factories, have to sub- mit ta the great law of supply and demand. But the laborers, in selling their labor to the capitalists, insist on evading that law. There is no equity there. As to the rights of public order and of other la'borers, the system tends constantly and violently to pass from a method ol mutual 'protection, into a criminal conspiracy. The sole ob- ject of a threatened strike is to compel employers to pay prices for labor in advance of these indicated by supply and demand. If the supply were not full, demand alone would raise the price of labor, and the strike would be superfluous. Now, the strik- ers, as free men, have an undoubted right to decline work and wages they think unfair. They may be very unwise in declin- ing; but it is their right. And here their right ends. But if the policy stops there, the employers will naturally defend them- selves from this coercion, by going into the labor market and hiring at the market price that substituted help which the full supply offers. Thus, if the strike stops where the lawful rights of the strikers end, it is inevitably futile. Of course then it will not stop there. They will go farther to violate the rights of oth- ers, who have an indefeasible right to take up any lawful work and wages they choose. Strikers will go to attack this right, by "boycotting," by obloquy, by threats, by terrorism, by vio- lence, by murder. And when dynamite is introduced to punish with death innocent persons, happening to use the appliances of obnoxious employers, the crime is worthy only of devils. Tk) sum up: If the equal rights of other laborers to accept the work and wages rejected are respected; strikes are futile. If ni4 'JHE LABOR UNION TIIP] STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. those rights are obstructed bj' force, strikes are criminal con- spiracies. And our point is that the hitter is their logical ten- dency. Unfortunately, the frequency of these outrages as the sequels of strikes, fully confirms the charge. In fine, only three modes are possible for adjusting the wages of labor and interest of capital. One is to leave the adjustment, under equitaible laws, which shall hold laborer and property-holder equals, to the great law of sujtply and demand. The second is, to liaA'e the Government fix maximum and minimum prices by statute. The Third is to leave these combination of laborers and employers against each other. For, if the one combine, of course the oth- ers will. The second plan is mischievous despotism. See its working in the French Revolutions. The third splits society into warring factions, and tends to baii)arism. Such is an impartial estimate of the tendencies of the "Trades Unions." The gravity of the prospect is increased,' when we consider the passionate determination of their mem- bers. They seem more and more in love with their plans and cherish them as their final and comj)lete hope. We are told that the movement spreads continually. It has its propagand- ists and newspapers. It confederates the different branches of mechanical labor more and more widely. It aspires to hold the balance of power in elections, and will before long, claim to control legislatures and congresses. Will primary education be its antidote? The negative to this hope seems to be pronounced b}' the fact, that, thus far, these projects have grown just as primary education has extend ed, and precisely in the places which most rejoice in its mean^. The same discouragement follows from observing the species of development produced — an initial grade of knowledge and intel- ligence, just adequate to the suggestion of a number of unsatis- fied desires, and the adojotion of the shallow plausibilities of sophistical theories for their gratification; while the breadth of wisdom needed to show the hollowness of them has not been attained; and this dangerous Sciolism is aggravated by the selt- sufiiciency inspired by a conceit of culture. This primary education exactly prepares a population for the reading and ac- ceptance of superficial newspapers. Without the circulation of newspapers, there would be no "Trades Unions" and no strikes of any moment. The primary- school and the newspaper press THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE. 815 play into each others hands in assisting tliese dangcn-ous organ- izations. In hnnian hand.s all the best things are perverted to some miscliievous nses, and here we have the ])er versions of these two good things, the School and the l*ress. The primary school enables the youth to read. Poor human nature usually craves the less wholesome pabulum for its powers, and here, the superficially cultivated reader uses his little talent to read the newspaper, instead of his Bible. The demagogue, the de- signing agitator sees at once in the newspaper an engine for swaying just such minds, and he makes erne low, sophistic;a'l and shallow enough to suit his audience. Thus the country has its literature of ''Strikes," Communism. Confiscation and l\vnamite, with myriads of readers. The more rapid progress of the late Confederate States, in the creation and accumulation of wealth, as demonstrated by the successive census returns of 1840, 1850 and 1860, was ac- counted for, in part, by the absence of strikes. The Negro la- borers could not combine; the white found no motive to do so. Thus far the emancipated Negroes have not formed this species of Trades' Unions by the race lines. But the Southern people are now magnanimously giving them a universal common school education. The result will be. as sure as the cycle of the seasons, that before long they will also form their own "trades' unions" on the ''color line." They will form them, because their partial culture will exactly prepare them for their sophisms and attractions; because they have already shown a marked ten- dency toward co-operative associations, and a i)assionate fond- ness for them; because, as now free laborers, they must feel the siimuli to that course, now almost omnipotently felt by white artisans among us. They will form them on the "color line," if for no other reason, because the whites have already applied that line everywhere in their trades' unions, and that with a passionate vigor. One of the future problems and perils of the couiilry is this race contest. Where the industrial centers have a mil- lion of Negroes, educated up to the use of the stump-speech, the radical newspaper and the revolver, closely organized in trades' unions, then the peace of the country will hang in constant sus- pense. Two antidotes have been proposed for the poisons involved 816 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUNE in these unions. One is, tlie application of the co-operativic* plan, wliich has been so successfully applied in England in the ^'ork of "distribution," to the industries of production? In retail distributit)n, the Kachdale plan has, indeed, wrought wonders, at least in England. It is still to be seen whether the system can be made to work among Americans, with their eager and intense individuality. But there appears, on reflection, a fatal difficulty when we attempt to apply it to industries of production. It proposes to identify the relations and interests of the employers and the la- borers. It says, these shall be as truly stockholders in the joint concern, and capitalists, as those. But, unfortunately, the dif- ference between employers and laborers, between the property- class and the property-less class, has arisen out of natural and acquired differences of personal attribute, for changing which the meth3ds of co-operation are as weak as "the Pope's l>ull against the comet." In a country like this, where the laws are already equal, the whole difference between those who have property, and those who have not, has been made by the pres- ence, or lack of "talents of acquisition'' in themselves or their parents. The well-to-do families are so, because their working mem'bers have energy, skill, prudent foresight, self-denial as also, perhaps, selfishness. Especially does the creation of "saved-up capital," the feature which makes the man an em- ployer instead of an employe, depend on self-denial. The com- mon proverb says: "Kiches come more by saving than by mak- ing." Political economy teaches the same; showing us that each man's saved-uj) ca})ital represents exactly so much self-denial, either in him or his forefathers, in reserving present income from the indulgence of present desires, for the distant and re- mote uses of capital in the future. Again, sagacity in applying, in investing, in u.sing the previous savings, is more important than either rapid skill in earning, or self-denial in not spending. Here is your rapid, effec- tive worker, who does earn large wages. Neither does he eat them up in immediate indulgencies. His mind is keenly bent on accumulation. But somehow, his money is ever "put into bags with holes." His ventures in investment are ill chosen and unlucky. He has an infinite amount of mental activities about plans and investments, but he ever lacks that "mother- THE LABOR UNION, THE STRILE AND TITR COMMUNE. 817 wif," that sagacious insight, which is a natural gift. And this picture is seen, in this countrv, more frequently than tlie in- stances of poverty from sheer indolence. Now, if the industry is to be truly co-operative — if the smaller shareholders are not to be deprived of their votes in it, and directed both in their labors and the use of their earnings, by the will of the large capitalist in the concern — which means, simply their slavery — these votes which represent rashness, un- thrift, self-indulgence, imprudence, must be equivalent with the votes of the sagacious — ^of course, then, "the concern'' must come to grief. This directive will, which represents the aggre- gation of all the unwise who have remained among the small, or laboring shareholders, simply because they are unwise, can- not compete with the rival concern, which is directed by the best practical wisdom. The co-operative factory will be a fail- ure; and the association will dissolve in disgust of mind, where the factory of the successful capitalist will succeed. The resolve that the present plan shall be replaced by co-operative factories, which shall succeed, amounts simply to this: ''Resolved, that all laborers have the personal attributes of a Peter Cooijer!" Nature and Providence concur to make men unequal; they can- not be made equal bj- the ''resolutions" of theorists. Once more: however co-operative, a factory must have exe- cutive officers, directors, salesmen, treasurers. These must handle all its earnings and assets. Supposing the system to re- ceive the wide extension necessary for its healing fully the rela- tions of labor and capital, shall we find enough Iwnest laboring men in America to fill all these responsible places? Or would 80 large a portion of the ventures break down through defalca- tions of officials, as to spoil the experiment? The morals of the strike system do not seem very well adapted to breed strict hon- esty! The other .proposal is, that the quarrels of labor and capi- tal shall be prevented, by making the National Government it- self the general industrial manager. The Democratic theory is, that the Government reflects the combined will of all the peo- ple. This, then, is the right agency to direct industrial pur- suits. Let the Government 'be in place of the corporations and capitalists. Here several plain thoughts give us pause: 318 THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND THE COMMUN-E. First. If this plan will be g03d, it will be because the Gov- ernment direction ^ill be better than that of the corporation or personal will. If, then, the Government is to confer this ad- vantage on some Industries, it must confer it on all. Otherwise we shall introduce inequalities and favoritisms most odious to Democratic theory. If it undertakes to operate all industries, it becomes a worse than Chinese despotism, a machine so vast as to crush out all individuality, and to break down hopelessly by its own weight. Second. The success of the Government's management in all these industries must depend supremely on the competency and honesty of the Government's officials. They must consti- tute an immense host. Personal motives to zeal and fidelity will be largely annihilated. Is there enough of this high in- tegrity in America, to work the huge machine? The present Government seems to have a deal of trouble in finding enough honest officials for its present small functions! Third. The Government is practically represented in the person of the magistrate. But, by the nature of Government, "he beareth the sword." His power is essentially punitive. Transgressions against his will must be held as "crimes" and "misdemeanors.'' Shall his industrial functions as the man- ager of numberless laborers be enforced by this species of sanc- tion? Shall the Government hold that i\x^ employee who has not watched his power loom, or chiseled his stone aright, is to be corrected as the petty larcener is? If not, how else? Un- der slavery, this negligent laborer might have been corrected by the birch; under our present hireling system, he is cor- rected by dismissal; but under this Governmental plan all in- dustries, as we saw, must be equally the Government's; aac} whither shall it dismiss the \q.zj employe? To banishment from his country? Hardly. To idleness? If he is still to have from the Government his subsistence, this would be a mockery of punishment; rather a reward for idleness and an injustice to the true workers. There appears no mode of dealing for this in- dustrial Government, except to treat defect of work in the citi- zens as larceny is treated. This suggests the fourth and hardest question of all. If Government is to be general, not to say universal, industrial agent, it must see to it that all whom it employs and subsists do THE LABOR UNION, THE STRIKE AND TIIR CO:\[MUNE. 319 Iheir houesc sliare of ihe work. Far orherwi^ie, the idlers vvouIJ be rewarded for their sin by being set up as an aristocracy above tlie faithful workers, to live at ease at the others' expense. Each citizen then must be held responsible to Government for |the diligent and useful employment of his time, under some eflflcient penalty. But the "Government" as such is an abstraction, which directly touches no man. It must act through persons clothed with official power. The meaning, tlien, would be that the citizens must answer to some officeholder, representing this sovereign Government, under some penalty, for doing his share of work. But this means slavery it is its exact definitions. The conception of this governmental plan is communistic; and ev- ery thoughtful man knows that communism means either an- archy or slavery. It may be objected: The Government'e clerks and postmasters now work precisely under that system, and are not slaves. The reply is first, that probably they some- times do feel that they are virtual slaves; but chiefly, that they become employes of Government now by their own free appli- cation, and may resign when they feel oppressed by their su- periors, and thus free themselves by returning to private life. But on the plan discussed, all this would be different; the Gov- ernment v/oiild be compelled to exact the adhesion of its work- ers,— as it does of its conscripted soldiers, whose condition is that of bondage for their term of service — and to refuse this privilege of resigning. There appears then, no remedy, except in the firm and just administration of the laws, coupled v;ith wise and equitable commercial and industrial legislation and the propagation of industry — ^economy and contentment among the people by means of Christian principles. There is no attitude for the Government towards "strikes'' excejtt the legal and righteous one. If operatives choose to form a society to forward their own interests, they have a right to do so, provided they do not infringe other people 's. If the society cliooses ta "(pmrrel with their own bread and butter'' by rejecting a certain work at cer- tain wages; they have a riglit to do so. But i/ieir recent employers have equal right to go into the labor marl'ct and hire others for that work at those 7vages; and all other laborers have equal right to that work if they are tvilling to the wages. The moment the "union" goes an inch beyond the mere B20 THE LABOR UNION, THK STRIKE AND THE COMMUNIS. withdrawal — the moment it begins to obstruct, terrorize, or beat, or murder the employers and the new employes, it has be- come a criminal conspiracy; the State should put it down with as prompt and firm a hand as they would put down highwayi robbery or foreign invasion. Ta the clear and just mind this is clear. But is there any American State which performs this duty? Alas no! We are more likely to see the State Governors corresponding with and conciliating the "strike," the poweir whose very end of existence is "to be a terror to evil doers," bowing to the conspiracy of evil-doers, who ought to be bowed before the majesty of the law. Pitiful sight! Troperry is always i-autious. apparently timid, at the be- ginning of collisions, for it is conscious it is valuable; it has much to lose. But, because it has much to lose, property always defends itself resolutely when pressed to the wall. And when rlie i)eriod of caution has passed, property defends itself success- fully. For money is power, and the talents of acquisition which gained the money are power. One thing has already become clear to the thought of property: that when the hour of forcible defense comes, the militia of the States will be worth- less. They are too near the rioters. Property will inv.)ke, as the only adequate force, the standing army of the United States. And, as the industrial centers are numerous and popu- lous, the United States must have a large, a widely difEu^edi standing army to invoke. Thus the property-holder will be educated by his needs and experiences in the hour of trial, to think of his State as the Cipher, the Washington Grovernment as the only Poiver. The discontented classes, who must at last be restrained by force, will be educated to regard State author- ity as a shadow, and Federal authority as the substantial fear. The surest result of the approaching strife will thus be to com- plete the practical extinction of State sovereignty, and the con- solidation of the federation into one empire. It will be an em- pire governing by the bayonet. THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN EARMlNti INTERESTS. By Robert L. Dabney, D.D., LL. D., Professor of Moral niul Mental riiilosophy aud Political Science. This depressimi is roal and ji,reat, at least when com])ared wirli the other industrial interests of the country. The life af our tillers of the soil may not be so sordid as that of the Egyp- tian Fellahin, or of the Irish cotter tenants, but they I'eceive h^ss than their coniparative share of the material rewards of ]al)[)r. This is enou<>ii to constitute the offense both against public justice and security. It is an outrage of the equities which a boastful i»oi)ular government should secure alike for all its classes. It is as i-eal a ground of perilous discontents in the great farming classes. This depression is proved: (1) By comparing the wages of other industries with those of farm la- bor: A puddler in an iron mill earns ten or more dollars per day, a bricklayer in this city demands |130 per month, a house carpenter or stone-cutter |70 per mouth; but in the most pros- ]ierous part of the Southwest, the farm laborer receives at most |20 per month, with plain rations; in the old Atlantic States, the best farm laborer receives $8 per month and rations. Able- bodied women servants receive from 15 to 18 cents per day, with rations. But the strongest point is that the profits of agricul- ture cannot bear even these wretched wages. It is the almost invariable experience of employers, that the staple cro.ps pro- duced with hired labor, ev(Mi at these wages, bring the capital- ists to insolvency; and usually, the only producers who escai)e this result are those who till their crops by the unpaid labor of ~ '~~ 321 392 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. themselves and rheir cliiklrtMi. This rehitive depression is prov- ed: (2) By comparing rustic with town life. Both classes have their paupers; but our comparison is drawn between the two great middle classes in rural and in town life, who employ some capital with some measures of persistent labor in the attempt to create values in the two spheres. The condition of the country family, as to long hours of labor, dress, food, dwelling and furniture equipage, amusements and recreations, is found to be comparatively hard and sordid. But the comparative con- ditions of town life in all these respects are easy, handsome, and even luxurious. The non-agricultural industries and employ- ments of capital somehow enable those occupied by them to spend five fold as much in the superfluities of life. A fair typi- cal instance may be found in the history of such a migration as was occurring farty years ago in New England in tens of thou- sands of cases. Two brothers, with the same blood in their veins and the same education, sold and divided the old New England homestead to migrate to Illinois. Each had the same capital^ say $3,500. One became a Chicago trader, the other a prairie farmer. The success of each has been neither above nor below the average of his class. We compare them at the end of forty years. The Chicago man is living in a brownstone front, faring sumptuously every day, indulging his family freely in fashion- able amusements, regarding a five dollar opera ticket for each member of his family as an entirelv reasonable indulgence : the pa/er familias assures us, with a smile of superiority, that he could not think of keeping house in Chicago on less than some 17,000 per annum. It does not at all follow^ that he has created or amassed wealth: perhaps if he were forced into liquidation he would not be found the real owner of the |3,500 he first brought to the city, but the luxurious house-keeping goes on just the same, with its enormous annihilation of values in un- productive consumption; of which the only salution is that he is consuming values created by other people's industry and cap- ital, which he extorts from them by the jugglery of our Ameri- can free institutions. Let us now seek out his brother, the prai- rie farmer. We find him on the little prairie farm which he bought with his patrimony forty years before, living in a board cottage. By virtue of an unusual diligence and prudence he is not mortgaged, and in consequence of the appreciation in the *ttE Depression of American farming interests. :i2'j price of liis land, possesses probably 15,000 or |(i,OOU. He still dresses in working- men's clothes and cowliide boots, drives his own wagon and i)low six days in every week and takes a hand in all the hardest forms of farm labor. His hands are horny and his joints nngainly and stiff with toil. His meals are jtlen- tifnl, bnt coarse, for tlie demands of taxes, commissions and wages reqnire the sale of the larger pail of tlie bntter and poul- try produced by his thrifty farm. His best equipage is his si)ring- wagon, drawn by plough horses; the most lavisli amusement of his family, an occasional visit to the fifty-cent circus. His household contains no liired domestic; wife and daughters are the only indoor drudges. His family subsist upon ahont |(>00 per annum. I am aware that these truthful pictures are usually met witli the cry that "skilled labor" deserves, and by incnit+i- ble economical law must receive, liigher wages. It is claimed that the labor of the artisan and of commerce is skilled labor, wliilc rustic labor is unskilled. Now. this is wliat I expressly deny; and I am supported by the l)est econo- mists. It is true that this Chicago trader has become skilled in cei'tain little ai-ts of cornering markets, inflating commissions, of which liis rustic brotlier has remained ignorant, greatly to his credit, lint the prairie farmer has developed higher intellectual skill and more varied resources, in place of the petty-fogging arts of the trader. He has learned the wisdom of the practical "crop-master," including a knowledge of the climate, seasons, soils, manures, modes of tillage, crops, and is yearly exercising upon these data the wide sagacity of the inductive philosopher. He lias become a veterinary surgeon, an orchardist, a dairyman, a machinist, besides practicing a half dozen distinct trades. On his winter evenings he has read many more, and more solid, books tlian his brothei'. Or let the artisan be com])ared with the farm laborer. We may be pointed to the city bricklayer, who exacts for one month of his labor six months' wages of his country brother. Oh! we shall be told, his is skilled labor! ''See with what rapid dex- terity he spreads a trowel full of morlar and lays brick after brick accurately to the line. The country bum]»kin cannot do that!'' T reply: Put a weeding-hoe into this bricklayer's hands and ])ut him to chopping out cotton. Let us see whether he can cut away a sprig of "crop-grass" from within (Uie-quarter of an 324 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. inch of the cottou plant, without iiijui-ing the tender stalk. Give him a cotton bag and let us see whether he can accomplish one- sixth part of a man's daily picking. Set him to harness, to ad- just and to operate a mowing machine with a spirited pair of horses. He will be a fortunate bricklayer if he escapes the first morning without being sawn asunder by his own cutter blade. The truth is, wliile the artisan practices a few very handsome dexterities, the good farm laborer must practice a score; of w^hich each one is as hard to learn as the dexterities of the me- chanic. (3) The steady and alarming drift of the American popula- tion from country to town reveals the depression of the farm- ing interests. This transfer has now assumed frightful projror- tions. In 1700. of that American people which established its independence hy revolution, one-third of one per centum lived in towns of 8,000 population or more. Since then, the steady and increasing drift has proceeded, until, in 1800, 25 per cent., or one-fourth of our whole population, is collected into towns and cities. Meantime, towns and villages under 8,000 people have been multiplied two hundredths. But these also give only the conditions of urban life. This transfer of population has been long continued, and is increasing rapidly. It has a cause. Our own observation shows us that nearly every American, 3'oung man strives to quit the land and rush to the town. Some would fain persuade us that this drift does not result from the comparatively hard conditions of country life, but from the so- cial attractions of towns, and from the ill-informed imagina- tions of the country youth, ignorant of the trials and failures of town life, and flattered with visions of easy and rapid wealth. This solution is not correct. Kural life has also its natural at- tractions, which ought to be more vivid and alluring than the garish shows of the city: the attractions of azure skies, of green fields and forests, of country sports, by field and stream, of horse-back exercise, and of the tender and sacred associations of home. Healthy young natures respond keenly to these. Were they free to act they should easily countervail the tawdry seduc- tions of the theater, concert room, and saloons. A few days' experience of these would wear off all the tinsel of novelty: the young spirit would quickly revert to its more natural attrac- tions. Nor is it true, that American youths are ignorant of the real conditions of city life, or be fooled with idle visions of its THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 826 i:!:loi'ies. rountry people know more of the citie.s than city peo- ple do of the country. No newspapers are printed in the coun- try. It is the cities which print them, and the country people universally read them. Ko, our young people are well aware of whatever is hard in the conditions of city life, but they w^eJl know that the conditions of country life are harder; therefore they crowd the cities. (4) This depression is revealed by the deep discontents of the farming population. In our day they find a renewed and ever widening- expression. Some years ago the Granger move- ment spread over America, and engaged the interests of nearly the whole farming population. Xow we have the gigantic and more determined movement of the Farmers' Alliance. We see this conf;)unding the clearest lines of national parties, driving the most trusted statesmen from their seats of power, and urg- ing their passionate demands for redress. Let none deceive themselves and mock at these mighty movements as blind or I'luile. Let none flatter tliemselves that farmers cannot com- biiie effectively. This may be true or untrue, yet unquestionably we see here the .symptoms of a terrible and deep disturbance. Whether this feverish bod3- is destined to be wise or not, it is still vast. It represents the industry of 1(),00(MMM) of working hands, and the direct subsistence of more tlian 3(>,(M>0,0()0 of souls; indirectly it is the foundation of all other industries; the values which it creates furnish the whole material handled by all other industries, manufacturing or commercial. It is the only source of the food and raiment of all. It may be that this huge or pressed mass is to be compared to the Titan Enceladus, upon whose breast Jove piled up the whole bulk of Mount Aetna. Like Enceladus, it ma}' not be able to throw off the super-incumbent burden, and yet its convulsions may throw? lava streams of anarchy and revolution, which will rend the whole sujierstructure and burn up the luxurious vineyards and gardens which bedeck its upper surface. II. This depression and displacement of the farming popula- tion should be the subject of grief and alarm. All orders of the .\meric'an people are vitally interested in this evil. First, this undue drift to urban life is injurious to the pub- 326 TflE DEPRESSION OF AMKRICAN FARMING INTERESTS lie wealth. I shall uot say with the old exploded French school of Economists, that agricultural industries are the only ones which really create new values. I admit that the mechanical and commercial industries create increments of value in the ag- ricultural products upon which aBne the}' operate. But the pretended industry of such middlemen as really contribute noth- ihing to the perfecting and circulation of commodities is an un- productive nuisance. Such middlemen are scarcely found at ;jll in the ranks of ii,iirirulrnral industry. It is in the traffic of towns That they intrude themselves successfully. These are the linman hives in which these drones are found in needless num- bers, consuming, but producing no honey. We have seen. als3 that the tendencies of American life in towns are far more lux- urious than in the country. Town life consumes unproductively a far larger share of the values created in the society than does country life, by its ever increasing and insatiable pomps of liv- ing and amusement. Again, urban life in America is a terri- ble consumer of the human species; its bills of mortality show a jarge percentage of death. Especially is the American city a devoiirer of infant life. The stifling heats and polluted at- mosphere of the lanes and alleys inhabited by the poor in mid- summer sweep away the innocents almost as fast as they come into the world. Perhaps it is the vice of jur American home life that only a small part of the youth reared in ciries grow into habits of steady industry. The ranks of city business have to be con- tinually refilled from the country. The sons and grandsons of those who have prospered in town are unable to perpetuate their parents' prosperity. Some are sybarites, some are sots. The country has to be drained afresh of its sturdy sons in order to replenish the ranks of industry. Jefferson did not much mistake when he declared, ''That great cities are but great ul- cers upon the b3dy politic." The urban population become un- safe depositories for political power. The minute specification of occupations breeds a narrow one-sideduess of mind, the people with a great conceit of their own intelligence, become overweening and excitable; revolu- tions alw^ays begin in cities. It is always municipal politics which first breed political corruption in America. A Tammany could onlv exist in a crreat citv. Once more history shows that the THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 827 martial virtues grow chiefly among the rural popuhitiou. i^hall we be reminded of the New York Seventh regiment and sim- ihir amateur (-ovps in our pompous cities. What part have these performed in actual warfare? A large portion of their rank and file was born and reared in the country. Cromwell found the London train bands in the parliamentary army of no account in the shocks of battle. Their ranks were filled, he sjiys, chiefly with decayed tapsters and serving men, the squad- rons of l*rince Rupert, formed of country gentlemen, rude them down like herds of sheep. Convinced that the liberties of his countr}^ could never be defended by such soldiers as these, Cromwell went into the country of Huntingdonshire and there recruited his regiment of Ironsides from the sons of the yeoman freeholders. Thus he formed that terrible body, which carried victory upon its bayonet through every subseciuent battlefield, which never met an enemy, whether it was the chivalry of Eng- land, of France or of Spain, without both defeating and de- stroying hiui. The Stonewall brigade was recruited by Jackson from the s )ns of the farmers in the Valley of Virginia. Indeed, the armies of the Confederacy were all armies of the farmers; and such was their powers that it required a gigantic struggle of four years to enable tlie plutocracy and proletariat of the combined world to overthrow them. But they, with their sys- tem of rui'al life, have been suppressed. Woe to the laud, to g-athering ills a prey Where wealth increases, and where men decay. —Goldsmith. III. Every patriot, consequently, should wish to find a remedy for this continental evil of agricultural depression; but a remedy can only be found by ascertaining the causes of the disease. If our efforts are directed to a mistaken cause, they will work only evil and not benefit. I do not, for instance, find the cause of this depression in the existing volume of American currency: nor do I see any hope of a remedy in its inflation. Every true friend of the far- mer sees his hopes directed to this false (quarter with soi-row. For we are aware all history and iscience prove that such in- flation can only aggravate the evils which now gall him into justifiable resentment. So evident is this to i»ersons well in- H28 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS formed, that when they see the pretended advisers of the Alli- ance misleading- it in this direction, it is hard to suppress the suspicion that they are the bribed agents of the real oppres- sors of the country, practicing to perpetuate their domination bv misdirecting the etforts of the sufferers. But would not inflation of currency enable the farmer to sell his products at a higher nominal price? Yes, for a time, but at a deadly ulterior cost to the farmer. For first, that inflation of currency which would raise the nominal price of the farmer's products must at the same time raise the price of all the other commodities which the farmer wishes to purchase. Let us suppose that inflation enables him to sell tlie cotton bale, which before had broug^ht him |40, for |80. He must now pay at least I^SO for |40 worth of those goods which he needed to buy with that cotton bale for his farm and family. What has he gained by the change except the childish amusement, or more probably the fatigue of counting twice as many dollars? But second, when inflation shall have raised the nominal price of his cotton bale to |80 he will not be able to purchase that return of commodities for his farm and family for |80, more probably he will have to pay |100 for them. For it is an established fact in history that when inflation is proceeding, land values and their prDducts respond more slowly to the stimulus of prices than other species of goods. There is a plain reason for this: The farmer's values cannot be made to change hands so quickly as the commodities of the merchant, and as everybody knows that this rise of price, stimulated by inflation, is precariaus and must be temporary. 'Nobody is so foolish as to venture a full increase of price upon these slowly moving land values. This was exactly verified in 1862, when the rapid in- flation of the Confederate currency was stimulating prices. The prices of lands and negroes had scarcely began to move percep- tively, when those of mercantile commodities had been inflated four or five hundred per cent. Thus it must ever be, by the time inflation shall have raised the price of the farmer's cot- ton bale from $40 to |80 it will have raised the prices of the goods which he must purchase with that cotton bale to or $i:iu. Third. Inflation of currency must always be temporary, THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 829 Like a fevoi- in a natural body, it must cure itself after a short time or kill the patient. This has been the history i)f every in- tiation, ancient or modern. Tliere is a reason for this, as un- erring and absolute as the gravity which makes rivers run down hill. So, a portion of the money in the region of inflation must immediately begin to tlow out into neighboring societies, where currency is not inflated. Why do unthinking people desire in- flation? Because it raises prices. But this means simply that the money now has less purchasing power within the region of inflation than without it. And now the self-interest of every hu- man being who has any of this money prompts him to send it away from the place where it has less purchasing power to the places where it has more. If it were found that cotton could be sold for more in Galveston than in Liverpool, by the amount of any margin above the freight and insurances, cotton would immediately begin to come back from Liverpool to Galveston. But of all commodities, money is the quickest to respond to this inevitable law of trade, because it is the most readily handled of all. Unless a society cuts itself off absolutely from all busi- ness relations with all other societies, it is as impossible for it to maintain permanent inflation as for the engineer to sustain a permanent mountain of water upon the fluctuating bosom of the Gulf. Inflation sooner or later cures itself, and with it nominal prices decline again. In the fourth place, when this constriction of currency be- gins, money appreciates in value; that is to say, its purchasing power is now increasing; but commodities depreciate in value. That is to say. any given quantity of them demands less money. But the money, which is appreciating, is chiefly in the hands of the money-lending and trading classes. It is the conrmodities which are depreciating which are in the hands of the agricul- tural classes. Thus, whenever the inevitable constriction be- gins, it is they who lose and the trading classes who gain. In- flation has encouraged the farming classes to make debts; these must now be paid oft" with their crops and lands at depreciated prices. Thus again it is the farmers who suffer. Some will ask, perhaps, why prudent foresight could not be exercised in view of the coming constriction, so as to adjust one's business to it, and avoid these losses. .1 answer: It is precisely the money- lending and trading classes who are in a position to exercise 880 THE DKPRKSSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. I hat foresi^'lit, and it is precisely the fanners who are not. These live scattered through the country; they are engrossed with their crops and stock; they are the last to learn the news of the api^roaehing c jnstriction of currency and changes of values. Even if they forsee, they find themselves in no condition to make beneficial use of their foresight, because the money, which is ap})reciatiug, they have not ready; the commodities which are dei)reciating are chiefly what they have to dispose of. But the trading classes live in the centers of financial news. They are the first to learn ,)f coming changes; ready money is the crop wliit-h they handle. Hence it is they who are sure to make ad- vantage of the fluctuations. Inflation is bad for the business and bad for the morals of all classes; but it is worst of all for the farmers. Our country has lately seen an exact illustration of these principles brought out upon a gigantic scale. The Federal cur- I'ency which replaced the Confederate in 1865 was a paper cur- rency inflated about fifty per cent. This inflation, according to the universal rule, cured itself. The greenback dollar approach- ed more and more nearly in value to the gold dollar until, in 1872, one was eipuil to the other, and specie payments were spontaneL)usly resumed. No law was passed by State or Fed- eral government to force that result. The financial wiseakers seemed afraid to legislate about it. Specie resumption came of itself. The gold room died of itself and was closed. Some may attempt to argue that the result was not spontaneous, but was virtually forced by the legislation of the radical party contract- ing the volume of the Federal treasury notes during those years. It is true the lavish issue made of those notes during the war was arrested; a large part of them were redeemed and with- drawn from circulation, but every dollar thus withdrawn was redeemed with some other kind of circulating dollars, silver, gold or national bank notes; and there was nothing to forbid these from entering the circulation and filling the precise place there of the treasury notes withdrawn. Again, silver and gold mining was revived and rapidly extended during those years, throwing into the veins of the national circulation annually multiplying millions of the money metals. Still again, during those years a high war tariff was enforced. The avowed tenr dencyof such tariffs is to create the so-called "balance of trade'' THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. 331 wliicli causes foreijiii rui-i-ency iustead of inijtortcd coiimiodities iu large part to flow into the "protei-ted" eoiintry. And last the chaste national banking law was in full force, ottering un- limited incoi'jvjration to all creditors of the government, and enticing them to use the banking privilege freely to issue na- tional bank notes by that cunning arrangement which enabled the bondholders *'to eat their cake and have it too." Nothing but the natural andinevitable principles of currency restricted the indefinite multiplication of national bank notes. This inflation cured itself, withjut the aid of human legislation or any force from without. Let us now look at the consequences of this con- striction upon the planters of the country. Cotton was con- tinually depreciating in price, while money was ap])reciating. Debts created at the inflated figures must now be paid with the pi*3ceeds of cotton sold at declining figures. The crop mort- gages consumed the substance of the planters with a more dead- ly voracity from year to year, until at the end of the period money lenders and commission merchants owned all that was left and the planters were paupers. The old proverb saith: •'Dame experience keeps a good scliojl, though a hard one"; but it is the only one fools will learn in. The leaders who are now attempting to seduce the Farmers' Alliance into schemes of in- flation evidently give their pupils credit for even a less amount of brains than is found in the unf )rtunate alumni of the severe dame. 2nd. The earliest cause of the decay of the American farm- ing interests was the overthrow of the labor system of the South by the war between the States and its conse(]uent measures. T feel no fear of ott'ending any political sensibilities when citing this cause, since it is intioduced not f :)r its political bearings, but solely for its econniiiic instruction, and sini^^ I cite no facts except those given by the government of the Ignited States it- self. The census retui-ns of that govinaiment testify that u]) to 1860 the Soutlicrn lalxn- system had been most fruitful ami m )st productive of i)ublic and private wealth of any labor sysiem in the country. In ISCO the South, with a little more than 12,000,- 000 of souls, possessed taxable values to the amount of |(>,7()0,- 000,000. In 1880, while the souls were 17,000,000. the taxable values an.iounted in round numbers to ^:i,2;")0,000.000. That this immense collapse of wealth had not been the work chiefly of 332 THE DEPRESSION Oh' AMEItlCAX ITAUMING IJMTEKESTri. war is proved by the testimony of the government, whose cen- sus in 1870 found the Soutliern people still possessed of taxable values to the amount of about |4,780,000.000. The Southern la- bor system had been destroyed, and with it this fruitful foun- tain of national wealth was dried up to flow no more. I pre- sume no one can be so unthinking as to suppose that this result affected the South alone. The profits of civilized society are I'eciprocal. When men wish to prosper they must ''live and let live." Commodities produced beyond the actual wants of the producer are of no value unless there is somewhere a demand for tJitm. Without an exterior demand they must rot unsold. It is not merely the presence of numerous people with hun- gry desires which creates commercial demand: these people must also possess something to buy with, which is a value to the vendors. Before 1860 the South, with its lavish production of wealth, bought lavishly of the products of the States north of them, and that at liberal prices. They bought directly im- mense volumes of the agricultural products of those States. They assisted their agriculture indirectly, also, by buying huge volumes of their manufactured products. In 1880 there remain- ed in the South abundance of hungry desires, but little was left wherewith to buy for their gratification. The agricultural prostration of the South has reacte^l against the North by an inevitable law, as wise Southern statesmen forewarned the country; measures of reconstruction have been a boomerang, ^\hich ha^ rebounded, and struck in the rear only less severely iln'.n in the front. This immense loss to both sections is, of course, irreparable: the wisest economic science provides no remedy for it. An arrogant but brutish pride may tempt men to avert their eyes from incontestable facts, or even to deny them, because they cannot now be repaired. But true wisdom is more humble, as well as more honest, and is glad to learu from every fact, however mortifying. 3rd. I find a second complicated and powerful set of caus- es for agricultural depression, which have become almost uni- versal in America in the form of artificial combinations for monopolies. Naturally and e(iuitably the ratio of supply and denumd ought to determine the price, wiiicli producers shall re- ceive for any class of services or products they offer. If one class of producers can artiticially violate the law of supply and THE DKPRESStO^f OF AMfeRlCAN FARMING tNTERKStS. '.V.YA deinaiid. this uiusr of course be by tln'owiug- the lass upon con- sumei's of that ehiss of services or values. For iustauce, let cer- tain irou workers combine, create an artificial monoiioly of their services and thus inflate their price by means of the restrictive rules of a labor uniju, then that element of unjust monopoly price must be present in the agricultural machine which the farmer buys. In paying for it he has paid in addition to the fair cost or the raw materials, interest on capital, wages of labor- ers and equitable commercial profit, a further monopoly price to these laborers, and this remains an uncompensated plunder upon the farmer's earnings, unless he can create some monopoly claim upon other fellow citizens by which to ''recoup'' himself, but this the farmer can never do. Now most Americans are nou willing to let the equitable law of supply and demand regulate their gains, hence nearly every industry except the farmers is now organized into artificial monopolies. The prices of nearly all of the services of meclianical, manufacturing and mining labor are manipulated b}' the Knights of Labor and other la- bor unions. The Printers' Typographical Union legislates that we shall pay more than fair market price for type setting and thus for all the books and newspapers; medical associations fix the pnces at which we must be physiced; legal associations for- bid the gravitation of fees for suits toward that modest price' which the over-supply of legal talent would otherwise bring about. The commission merchants foreordain what per cent- age of charges, real and imaginary, they shall levy upon the farmer's produce, which are never remitted however disastrous to him their sales of his property may prove. The American Xail Makers' Association, instead of observing the law of sup- ply and demand, ordains what we shall pay for each nail driven in America. The salt makers order the shutting up of nature's fountains whenever she seems likely to cheapen that article of prime necessity by a more liberal outflow of her waters. The Lake Superior Copper Company legislates that every copper wire used by Americans shall cost double price of that which the same company sells to Europeans. The Standard Oil Com- pany inflates the price of petroleum and the other oils and de- presses that of the farmer's cotton seed. The sugar trust regu- lates the price at which we shall taste the sweets of life. There is now a cigarette trust fixing the monopoly price at which our 3^4 THE DEPRESSION OF AMEKIcaN FARMING INTEHEstS. boys .shall poison rlicmselves and jKjlhitc the arniosjjliere around tlieui, the carrying companies of the country make all their freight charges upon the products of agriculture or upon the return goods which these procure. Nearly all these campanies inflate these charges either by watering their stock and load- ing their roads with unnecessary bonds, the proceeds of which they have silently appropriated; and they then load the pro- duce of the country with such freight charges as shall pay divi- dends both upon the actual and the fictitious values. Thus ev-. ery such bjnd or share of stock beyond the actual costs of the roads and their equipments becomes a perpetual lien upon the lands and products of the farmers, whom they profess to serve, levying upon them for all time both a just and an unjust profit. But the list becomes tiresome, and now its latest addition is the American Book Publishing Company, which proposes to levy a monopoly upon the brain food of every boy and girl on the continent. The farmers remain one of the two great industries which has hitherto been unable to combine to engross the earnings of others, or even to protect itself against engrossers. This, I pre- sume, is not because the farmers are less intelligent or less hu- man than the other classes, but because they are so numerous, so separated by their homes and pursuits, so divided in interest by geographic and climatic causes, by the wide diversity and the very immensity of their products. Effective combinations for monopoly can never become feasible for them. Nor do they desire them. What they righteously demand is means to protect themselves against other monopolies. How to do this is a suflfic- iently hard problem for them. The other great class of Americans found in the same help- less condition is the class of home makers. The 10,000,000 of American wives, mothers and sisters who perform more unre- mitting toil for smaller compensation than even the tillers of the soil. It would be well for them to make common cause with the Farmers Alliance. The other industries manage to overrule the equitable laws of supply and demand by their artifices, the farming interests has to accept, for the immense mass of values it creates, less than the natural law of supply and demand would ajjportion them. 4th. It is these unfair conditions which cause the enor- THt: BEtJlESSION Oi^ AkKJilCAN FAKklNG INTEfeEStS. S^f) mous taxation of the American Governnienr to press witli siicli crushing- weight upon tlie farming interest;^. It is dimcult to ascertain the real aggregate of the Federal, the State, the county and the municipal taxes whicli our people have to Dear. Enormous sums are levied in the irregular and vague forms of sherittV and clerks' fees. We shall not go far wrong in estimat- ing the total of $20.00 per capita for ever}- American soul. These taxes are so diversified and the modes of collection varied with such ill-starred ingenuity tliat the victims are scarcely aware of their own burdens. The average farmer whose family includes five souls will be much mistaken in supposing that he gets off by paying one hundred dollars, i. e., .|20.00 for each soul in his house. Many pauper families almost wholly escape ass- essment. The personal jjroperty of the rich is often secreted from taxation to a shameful extent, but the assets of the farmer remain visible and palpable. The governments are remorseless in their demands of the |20.00 from each soul. Hence those who have property and who cannot and do not secrete it from taxation must pny in addition to their own shares the shares of all the paupers and all the deceivers. No additional words are requisite to show^ how hardly- these exactions must press upon those industries whose capital and labor are already yielding the scantiest returns. Such are the industries of the American farmer. For, 5. The Federal legislation is so adjusted as to be most in- imical to his rights and interests. I refer chiefly to the so-called protective system of the United States, which is the prime source of the worst evils now crushing the farming interests in America. I have explained how the various rings and trusts op- erate to filch away the farmer's earnings without giving him any just equivalent. It is the tariff which provides the conditions of success for all these monopolies. As long as these fatal con- ditions subsist it is not probable tliat the oppressed classes will find any remedy. American ingenuity will always invent ways to evade the oi)eration of the principles of the common law against forestalling and regrating, and any statutes passed by the States and by Congress, in a country burdened with such an administration of justice as ours. The resort to free trade would of itself abolish the conditions requisite to the success of these iniquities so that they would perish of themselves. We 'i96 THE DEPEESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. see, for instance, the new book trust preparing its machinery to levy a monopoly-profit, iu addition to equitable manufacturing and commercial profits, upon every school child in America. Let Congress only pass, in one line, the righteous statute remov- ing all tariffs upon school books, and this gigantic fraud would be checkmated at once. The best and cheapest printers in the world, in Leipsig, Halle, Brussels, Edinburg, would in a few weeks place in our seaports ship loads of American school books, printed in our own language, with perfect accuracy, at half the price of the monopolies. Every one understands that when the government levies tariff imposts upon imported goods, the final consumer ,of those goods inevitably pays both the value of those goods, with reason- able commercial profits thereon, and the tarilf tax in addition, increased by parallel charges of prjfits and commissions upon it also. But the tendency of the system is to enable American pro- ducers of similar goods to enhance the prices of them also to the same level. This tendency may be partially checked by mutual home competition, but here come in all the monopoly rings and combinations designed to deprive the consumers of this check of home competition. Were this tendency of tariff laws fully i-ealized their result would be that consumers would pay as sim- ple plunder to private fellow-citizens four dollars of unearned profits for every dollar carried by the tariffs into the Federal treasury. This is bad enough; but it only reveals the small be- ginnings of the injustice wrought by the protective system upon the great farming classes. To comprehend the w^hole the reac- tionary influence of the protective system against the prices of all the great export staples created by the tillers of the soil must be clearly understood. By the term ^'Export Staples" we mean all those classes of commodities w^hich are produced in Ameri- ca in larger quantities than Americans can consume. Thivs over plus of each class of commodities requires and seeks a for- eign market, for without this it must only be wasted by need- lessly lavish use at home or rot unronsumed. Either result is a loss to the producers. Let, now, these indisputable facts be combined: First. International traffic must be mainly barter of goods for goods; it cannot be mainly the sale of our goodis for the money of our national neighbors, for only the gold and !i?^E DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERKSTS. 337 silver money of one nation can pass to another for the purchase of Its gaods. It is impossible that one nation's paper monej can be made to circulate as currency within another nation. It is equally impossible that one, nation can part annually with successive portions of its metallic money to pay for the goods of another nation which it desired to acquire. The reason is abso- lute: Very soon the volume of metallic currency in the pur- chasing nation would be relatively so reduced that money would be appreciated, the prices of commodities depreciated, and fur- ther importations of them for sale would become impossible. Such a form of international trade is therefore inevitably self- arresting. If international trade is to go on at all it must be the barter of goods for goods. Only so much specie can pass backwards and forwards as will equalize the small temporary oscillations in the balance of trade and in stirring exchange. Second. All taritfs are restrictive upon free international barter. They are intended to be such. It is their boast to be such. If they did not operate to restrict the intiux of imported goods, they would utterly fail to operate as protective of home manufactories. Hence, when the United States enacts that cer- tain goods imported from Great Britain shall pay a tariff im- post, it thereby enacts a restriction upon the volume of such goods possible to be exported to us by Great Britain. Third. This at once operates as a restriction upon the pur- chasing power of all foreign nations as \3 all our Export Sta- ples. It is their interest to purchase freely of our export staples at good prices, provided we will let them pay in the various useful goods which they produce at such moderate prices and which we need. But the tariff" system says to them: "No, you shall not buy freely of our great export staples which we so much need to sell; for we will not take freely of those cheap and useful goods which you produce, and which we need, and with which alone it is possible for you to pay for what we send you." Let us instance our cotton crop. It is impossible for American spinners to consume annually mor<^ than two-fifths of it. Shall the rest rot unspun? Great Britain says to us: We like your cotton; it is good; we spin something more than 2,000,000 bales per annum, and cannot ri^ir one pound in England; we are only too glad to make you a good market at good prices for that 338 THE DEPRESSION OF AMERICAN FARMING INTEflESTS. vast portion of \'Our surplus, provided you will let us pay you in the only things with which it is possible for us to pay, viz: our cheap and excellent manufactured good:s which will be so useful to you. But now comes in the American tariff and for- bids Great Britain doing this gaod part by our cotton surplus. It sternh restricts the quantity of British goods which can be sent into America to pay for cotton, and thereby restricts the purchasing power of Britain as to our cotton. Britain must con- sequently buj- less of our surjilus, and that at reduced prices. The actual result is that, instead of buying every pound she spins from u?<, which .she would gladly do, our tariff' lawis force her to buy as little as possible from us and at the worst possible prices, and to seek a supply for her deficit of cotton from the unfriendly climates of Hindoostau and from Egypt and Brazil, which are glad to sell the cotton they rear to her without this senseless restriction. This great instance showis how surely tariff' restrictions operate against the prices of all our export staples. Fourth. The foreign price of these staples inevitably rules the prices of all sold at home. Thus the tariff system, by injur- ing the price of that portion sold abroad, injures the price of every bushel and every pound produced upon the whole con- tinent. Is any one ignorant enough to doubt this? Does not every intelligent person know that every reaction against the price of grain in Mark Lane, of tobacco at the London docks, of cotton in Liverpool, immediately depresses the prices of these staples in every American city. Let cotton decline five points in Liverpool to-day; let Hubbard & Price report the price to- morrow morning on the blackboard of the New York Cotton Ex- change. Down goes cotton in New York five points. As soon as the telegraph can bring the news to Galveston, down goes the price there five points, and by day after to-morrow there will not be a hamlet in Texas where the retail purchaser will not insist upon a reduction of five points in his price. Let us now^ glance at the quantity of these export staples created by American tillers of the soil. In 1891 they produced 2,000,000,000 bushels of Indian corn, 040,000,000 bushels of wheat, more than this quantity of oats, eight and one-third mil- lions of bales of cotton, 8,000,000,000 pounds of tobacco, be- sides dairy products, beef products, hog products, naval stores i'SB DEPRESSION OF AMERICAIsr FARMING INTERESTS '.V.V.) and other commodities. The sellinji' price of all this immense mass of values has been depressed against the tillers of the soil by this reflex operation of tariff laws. And for what end? That inflated and unrio-hteous profits mav be i)iled up in tlie pockets of a few thousand manufacturing: capitalists. And this is American republicanism? We need no longer wonder at the cruel depression of the American farming interests. The price of ten cents per pound for cotton leaves to the planter a bare chance of a scanty proiit. In this month of Jan- uary-, 1892, yeomen farmers have been selling their cotton in the streets of Austin at a heart breaking price of five cents per pound. Lasf year the remorseless McKinley tariff ivent into operation. ^ly argument shows that we have liere not only the post-hoc but the propier-hoc. But meantime the prairie farmer's wheat has advanced from 80 cents per bushel to |1.()5? Yes. But is it possible that human eft'rontery and ignorance could ascribe this beneficial result tn the McKinley tariff? We are told tliat tliis impossibility has actually been accomplished successfully in the Northwest by protectionist demagogues. "The force of nature can no farther go." It would be a curious problem, whether the impudence of the deceivers or the stu- pidit}' of the deceived is the more gigantic. My argument has demonstrated that a restrictive system can only act adversely against tlie price of any and every export staple. Tlie American tarilf is opei'ating adversely to-day against the price of American wheat. This slight rise (which saves the prairie farmers for a moment from despair) is purely the result of a great and sudden dearth of breadstuff among nearly all the 2S0,0()U,U()() of Europeans. Such a stimulus, but for the blight- ing influence of our tariff, should have sent American wheat up, not to the poor ])rice of fl.OS per bushel, but to |1.()0. Un- der the twenty per cent, tariffs which prevailed from 1S4() to 1801, smaller stimuli in European markets again and again sent tlu' price of AnuM-ican wheat up to f 1.75 per bushel. It will be easily ])erceived from the above analysis that I have no (luack nostrums to ])roj)ose to the farmers as remedies for theii' wrongs. Tlu^ jiolitical nu^asures which are due to them and which would relieve tlu' unjust pressure, are the lion- est and simple ones of old Soutliern statesmen. Economical government, reduced taxation, the arrest and 340 THE DEPRESSloK OF AMERICAN FARMING INTERESTS. repeal of all class legislariuii and a swift return to strictly leve- nue tariffs. Will the great producing classes see their true remedy and combine in their strength to exact of our rulers its faithful application? I fear not. Impatience misleads many. The evil is chronic. Safe and wholesome remedies will only operate slowly. The money oligarchy has its hired advocates everywhere afield, who misdirect the views of the people. It is to be feared the greatest obstacle to true reform lies here; the real remedies are simple and honest, but the political mind of America is largely dishonest. The true theory of republican government taught by the fathers of America was this: That the sole function of civil government is to protect the equitable rights of all, while it bestows class privileges on none, and leaves each free citizen to work out his own preferred welfare by his own honest exertions in his individual independence. But the popular conception of government has come to be that it is a complicated and powerful machine, to be manipulated for the advantage of whatever cliques can seize the control of it, so as to juggle other people's earnings into their pockets. Consequently the prevalent picture in our political movements is this: The oppressing clique struggles by every means, fair and foul, to retain its hold of the crank of the lucrative ma- chine. The oppressed clique does not seek the restoration of justice to all. Tliat is too simple and old fashioned. No; what it seeks is to grasp in its turn the crank of the machine, in or- der to make it so revolve as to recotip its losses, avenge itself upon its oppressors, and imitate their selfish use of power. The danger is that amidst these species of struggles patriotism and political morality will perish. Parties will become more venal and a constantly narrowing oligarchy of wealth will take the place of true republicanism. If the great agricultural class does not possess the e(iuity. wisdom and firmness to enforce the righteous remedy, for uo other class will find its interests in doing it. we may consider free government in America as doomed. '■THE DOLLAR OF 1 HE DADDIES." (P>om the Houston Post, March, 1892.) Such has been the very war-cry of the so-called "silver men" in politics. They claim continually that the standard silver dollar known as the "Bland dollar'' is precisely the dol- lar of our daddies and that therefore they demand it. Now the meaning- of this claim is, that the precedent of the Fed- eral government, the example of its founders, and the weight of their wisdtun and patriotism, justify the continued and un- limited coinage of this dollar, containing three hundred and seventy-one grains of pure silver. I shall show that this plea fathers, in form and naime, but not in reality and worth, that is uncandid and false, that this coin is now the dollar of our were those wise 'old patriots here now, instead of fathering it they would most certainly reject it. from the force of the very principles by wliich they shaped the money policy of the coun- try. The phrase is only a catch- word to juggle with, not an argument to reason from. Some explanation is needed to evince this. It is true that our fathers adopted the "double standard" for the Federal coinage, and that, by the advice of an excellent financier, Mr. Albert Gallatin. The "single standard" makes both gold and S'ilver money for the people and coins both for their use, just as truly as the doufble standard. The difference between the two plans is just this: the single standard makes silver coins "legal tender" for debts only to small amounts (say up to ten dollars (-flO), while for all larger debts gold coins ahuie are legal tender. The plan of the "double standard" makes the silver and gold coins both legal tender for debts of any amount, however large, at the option of debtors. That; alone is the essential point of difference. The results which are designed and which follow in fact from the two plans are 341 342 THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. these: The single standard gives the people both silver raouey and gold money to buy and sell with, just as the people prefer the one or the other, and indeed it provides the people as much silver money as they find it convenient to use in preference to gold; but it does not enable debtors to compel their creditors by force of law to take silver coins (except in very small amounts) as the forcible measure and standard of the values wliich they got from their creditors and which debtors are bound to return to them when pay day come«. The law con- fers that power only ou gold coins: that is all. 1 repeat, the law of the single standard allows the i)eople tD enjoiy either silver or gold coins as measures of value in trading with each other, just as they choose to agree together at the time; but the law refuse-s to empower debtors to force anything on their creditors as the fixed standard of values, to be receivable w^hen pay day comes, except gold coins. Such and no more is the plan of the single standard in those great nations which have adopted it, Russia, Germany and Great Britain; and such was the whole extent of the much abused law of 1873 adopting the single standard for the United States. The designed and ac- tual result of the double standard is that it enables all debtors to compel their creditors, by force of law, to take either silver or gold coins, as the standard of values received, at the debt- or's option. Every truly scientific writer and statesman recommendis the single standard, in all countries: and this for two reasons; one is that the plan of double standard is always liable to be- came dishonest and mischievous unless it l3e corrected by a means very expensive and troublesome. The other is that this plan always tends to make silver money, or gold money, or both more scarce, and thus to deprive the people of the con- venience of having plenty of both kinds in use. Whereas the single standard tends to keep them both in circulation and especially plenty of silver. So that the advocates of double standard and free coinage are exactly wrong in telling the peo- ple that their plan will keep more silver in circulation. This may lo'ok strange at first, but the following facts make it plain. These metals are not only the materials of coinage, but_ always articles of traffic in commerce. Xo laws and no power on earth can prevent this. As articles of traffic, they must THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. 343 fluctuate in relative value uuder the well known law of supply and demand, just as iron, cotton, wheat, and tobacco fluctuate. If the annual croip of silver remains the same, while the gen- eral demand for ir diminishes, its price must fall. If the de- nuind remains as before and the crop increases the price must fall. If the annual crop increases faster than the demand the price must fall, but if the relation of supply and demand in the case of gold remains permanent while either of these changes happens to silver it must become cheaper relatively to gold. That is, if sixteen ounces of silver sufficed before to buy one ounce of gold in metal markets, it will now requia'e more than sixteen ounces of silver. Or. a quantity of wheait which would before buy sixteen ounces of silver or one ounce of gold indifferently will now buy more than sixteen ounces of silver, and still only one ounce of gold. If a governuient persists in the plan of the double stand- ard after the silver in its dollar has thus come to 'be worth less than a dollar it begins to practice a wrong, and to unsettle its standard of values. As a rocking foundation is no real foun- dation at all for a house, sj an unsettled standard is no stand ard. Such a coinage instead of regulating traffic in a whole- some manner tends to work confusion and disturbance in all business transactions. For instance, two citizens in the exer- cise of their rightful freedom have covenanted that the one shall give to the other certain goods to be valued at one thou- sand dollars and to be paid for by that number of these coins. But what does "dollar" mean? Clearly the government when undertaking to regulate that matter ought to give but one answer. To give two different ones is confusion. Does "dol- lar" mean twenty-three and one-fifth grains of pure gold? Or does it mean three hundred and seventy-one grains of pure sil- ver? But these are now quite different values I One of the mischiefs always attending this confusion is: That it starts circulation in currency itself, besides inflaming speculation in all other kinds of goods bought and sold with currency. This is ever a curse and let it be noted that it is the small money lending class which always profits. In the end. it is the large borrowing class which always loses, when currency itself is speculated in. Especially is this true against the fai^mers. And the reason is perfectly simple and certain. It is the money 344 THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. lending class whicli is always the most quickly informed of the shifts and fluctuations between the two currencies because it is their business to study them and they lire just in the cen- ters of action; while the farmers, scattered over the country and busy in their fields, are the last to find out what is com- ing. Moreover the money lending class is most able to pro- duce changes and shifts in the currencies, which it is their business to handle in large (luautities. Hence we see, that the politicians make two most absurd blunders when they tell the farmers that it is to their interest to have abundant "soift money" or silver money of infeiior value; and that the Wall street men advocate a single standard and oppose free silver coinage of standard dollars from selfish greed. The self in- terest of the maney lending class would lead them to desire another period of uue(iual currencies, for they know that they get rich fastest in such times, and the debtor class suffers most. And it is precisely the farming class whicli in the outcome al- ways sufi'ers by "soft money." Does the aljundance ;)f this seem for a time to raise the price of farm products? It is a miserable cheat; for when settling day comes, as come it must, the farmers always find that they have been paid for what they have to sell with cheap monej- and now have to pay what they owe in dear money. The farmers of the United States may be sure that Mr. Cleveland is their truest and best friend here. He is a learned, wise and honest man : let the farmers listen to him if they wish to know what is for their good. This is proved by our recent history from 1862 to 1871i when the country had two different currencies, paper and me- tallic; then it was the famous gold room seethed every day like a caldron. It was then the foundations were laid for those col- lossal fortunes in the hands of a 'few, which all men now see to be so threatening to the rights and welfare of the people. It was then the grand impulse was given to that fatal process which, ever since, has been making the rich richer and the poor poorer. Let the experience of that time also teach the farmers the other truth; that in a time of ''soft money" it is they who suffer, and it is the money lending class which gains. The period I have marked was a time of soft money. When the war between the States ended the Federal paper money quickly I^ecame less depreciated, so that one and a half dollars of it THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. 345 were equal to one gold or silver dollar; and the paper money gradually appreciated. But it was soft moue^' until the re- suuiption of specie payments. Now who was it that got rich during that period? It was the bankers and commission mer- chants whj lent advances to farmers, while the farmers got poorer and poorer. Indeed the lending class almost ate up the farming class bodily. That was the epoch when Richardson, of Jackson, Miss., from being a little commission merchant, be- came the largest cotton planter in ^the world, through the agency of his advances and crop mortgages. Let farmers learn by experience. The silver shouters tell the farmers that the unlimited coinage of silver dollars of inferior value is tie 'way to give them abundance of silver money; which I expressly deny. It is the very way to make money of both kinds scarcer. Again I appeal to stubborn facts. Under the Bland law, the United States has coined more than three huudred millians of these inferior silver dollars. ^leautinu' Great Britain, in her wis- dom, retains the single standard and limited coinage of silver. But this very year the people of the United States are employ' ing only $ i go per capita of silver money; while the people of Great Britain are employing $2.85 per capital The rest of our silver coinage lies obstinately in the vaults of the treasury? the people will not take it out and handle it, though the gov- ernment coaxes and almost britoes them to do so. Do these facts look strange? They are explained by a simple view of human nature. The people know in spite of the demagogues that these Bland dollars are inferior in commercial value, each one is worth, in fact, less than 75 cents. Now let an article which the people know to 'be inferior be offered for their use on two plans: Let the one plan be to offer it to their free op- tion and say to them. "Here it is, it is an inferior article; \t\\\ can use it if yon chouse wherever your convenience calls for it, or you can let it alone." The other plan says to the jieople, "This article, which you believe to be inferior, you shall \w made to take as superior, even equal to the best, and if you take it when pay day comes, the law will compel you to pay back in the best and dearest." Every one who knows human nature knows that the first plan will circulate far more of that article than the second plan. Suppose it were an inferior grade 346 THE DOLLATl OF THE DADDIES. of butter, or flour, or cotton, cloth, or lard; let any grocer or housekeeper answer. Leave them free to settle at an inferior price for the inferior article according to their own judgment, and convenience will prompt them to use a good deal of ir; but when y3u make a law that the inferior shall be priced as high as the best, everybody naturally resolves to have as little to do with it as possible. It is the .same with the people's money. The other consequence of our double standard with an in- ferior silver dollar as legal tender for all amounts is still more certain: it will ultimately drive away all the gold coiu. The people have been hearing lately of "Gresham's law." This is a principle in the science of currence so called ibecause that great man explained and proved it so well 300 years ago. It is this: Where the law makes two kinds of money to be currency of which one is worse than the other, the worse kind always tends tf) drive the better kind out of circulation and out of the hands of the people. So long as the quantity of thv worse currency is quite limited the great inconvenience of having too little cur- rency of either kind may check this natural tendency, keeping some of the better currency in circulation, temporarily. But the tendency is at work all the time, and when the quantity of the worst money is increased enough to fill tJie natural chan- nels of trade all the good money goes away. This also is but nature and common sense. Let any man ask himself; suppose he were going to buy a |10 coat with two kinds of money in his pocket, one kind commercially worth 25 per cent, more than the other, while the law empowered him to force the mer- chant to take 10 of either kind as |10. He also knows that there is a money broker whom he can reach, who will give him twelve of the meaner dollars for ten of his better kind. What will he be inclined to do? Of course, he will keep back the better dollars and force the merchant to take the meaner ones; he gains $2 by it. Such is exactly rlie position of all money dealers in financial centers. They find that they can make a Bland dollar, by virtue of bad law, buy a gold dollar's worth inside the L'nited States, while outside it will pay only 75 cents. Of course then, whenever they have money to pay in Europe, India, China, or Australia, they are going to send gold money to pay it, while they keep the meaner silver money to ])ut off on their fellow citizens. The tendency is as inevitable THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. 347 as an}' other law of nature. Let free coinage go on and sooner or later the last American gold coin will go out of American circulation. Fact^ prove this. Between 179- and 18,34 silver had cheapened a little in the commercial markets of the world. At the later date a gold eagle (|lUj sold for |1().05 in silver. This was an appreciation of a little over six per cent.; the conse- quence was that all the gold coinage jf the United States went entirely out of circulation among the people. There was noth- ing but silver, bank notes, and wretched shin j»lasters. One might as well have looked for feathers from angels" wings in the hands of the people as for the gold coins of their own gov- ernment. Congress saw the necessity of restoring commercial equality of value between its silver dollars and its gold ones. It effected this by the law of 1831, which reduced the quantity of virgin metal in the grold eagle from 217 1-2 grains to 232 grains, or a'bout six per cent. Then their gold imoney began to stay and circulate at home. Now if a difference of six per cent, in value sent all our gold coin out of circulation, what will a difference of 25 per cent, do? It must, for the stronger reason, banish all our gold. Circumstances may delay the tlow; they cannot stop it linall}-. The tendency in this law of currency is as infallible as the tendency of rivers to run down hill. A dam across a stream may check the current until the pond is full: then it continues to run down hill as before. I have now reached the place to signalize the dhshonesty of the jockey "catch-word," the dollar of our daddies. This claim should mean, were it not a contemptible fraud, that the fathers of the government committed themselves for all time to a dollar of 371 grains, irrespective of tluctuatious in the rela- tive price of silver. But this is precisely what they never did. Their example to us was to make a silver dollar equal in com- mercial value to their gold dollar and to anake whatever changes afterwards might be needed to keep them equal, ^\lly did they put just 371 grains of pure silver into their standard dollar in 171)2? See Hamilton, Jetferson and Gallatin. Be- cause 15 ounces of silver would then buy 1 ounce of gold, at which ratio the 371 grains of silver exactly equaled in value the tenth part of 217 1-2 grains of gold allotted to the gold dollar. In 1831. when silver had fallen so that it took IP; 348 THE DOLLAll 0¥ THE DADDIES. ounces to buy au ounce of gold, the fathers recognized the need and duty of making a change in the coinage to equalize the two kinds. This they did by lightening the gold coin 6 per cent. If the silver men now are not trying to cheat the people, by this chiini of the fathers' precedent, let them do what their fathers did, equalize the two kinds of dollars. If those fathers wiere here now they would effect this by putting one-fourth more silver into the standard dollar. Not by taking one-fourth of the gold out of the gold dollar. Because they would have sense enough to know that such a sudden and wide leap downwards in the value of botli dollars would be ruin; it would be a gii.- gantic theft upon the government and upon every creditor of the gjvernment, or of individual Americans throughout the world, and would make a financial convulsion which woudd strew the country with bankruptcies. The other consequence of a double standard, when the relative value of silver to gold has changed, is a moral one. If the government does not read- just its two kinds of dollars by recoinage, it becomes guilty of wickedness. This is the wickedness of using itself, and enabling the citizens to use. divert and false measures in buying and selling. The function of money is to be the instrument of ex- changes between commodities. In doing this the money be- comes the temporary measure of value. When the government makes two kinds of dollars, one more valuable by a fourth part than the other, and by law empowers the buyer to force the meaner sort of dollars on the seller, as equal to the better sort; this is precisely as though the law should authorize cloth mer- chants to keep two yard-sticks, one 36 inches long, to buy with, and one 27 inches long, to sell with, and force the people to call them both full yards. In dry goods trade this would be simple rascality: why is it not the same in currency? This is the wickedness forbidden in God's law. Deut. 25: 'Tliou shalt not have in thy liag divers weights, a great and a small. Thou ishalt not have in thine house divers measures, a great and a small.'' Hence it is the imperious moral duty of every gov- ernment which chooses the double standard to make and to keep all its kinds of dollars of equal, and of unifonm and sta- ble value, to the best of its ability. If it does not try to do this, it is a thief and an abettor of thieving in its citizens. I have now described the two great evils which attend the TFt« bOLtAR 0^ TFIE tiADDtES. 34^ plan of rlie double standai-d when rlic relative^ value of ihe metals has changed. The only honest remedy is the reeoinage of all the money which the government has made out of one or the other metal. But this remedy is terribly expensive and inconvenient. I will now explain this by supposing the remedy applied to the present "Bland dollars." Let us say there are now 300,000,000 of them. First, 104 grains of pure silver has to be put into every one of these dollars to make them honest. This would require about 64,000,000 ounces of silver; whieh. would cost at this time about 160,000,000 in gold. Who is to pay for this? The government, of course. It has no money except by taxing the people. That is, the hard pressed tax payers must buy it. The meaning of which is that, were this false coinage raised to 100 cents values now the people must be gouged sixty millions to pay for the blunders which Con- gress has perpetrated under the advice of these silver men.. But this is not all. All the silver coins in the use of the peo- ple anust be sent back to the mints, to be made over again and made honest. This will be several months' work. In the mean- time what are the people to do for silver change? What a tremendous spasm in business we shall have here! At this point some thoughtless person is going to say, "This spasm can be avoided by calling back to the mints for recoinage only small installments at one time of the silver monej' in the peo- ple's hands." Nay. we are not out of the woods yet! The small installments of the full-weight, new coins must ible thrown into circulation as fast as they are manufactured; else this plan does nothing. But take notice: the community now has two kinds of silver money, a better and a worse; and Gresham's law immediately ibegins to work against the better kind. The money brokers will take out of circulation the good new dollars, nearly as fast as the mint throws them in; so the agony will be prolonged. English history tells us how power- fully this influence obstructed the new coinage at the end of the seventeenth century, in spite of the honest administration of William and Mary and the transcendant talents of the mint- master, who was no other than Sir. I. Newton. But if these things would be done in the green tree, what would be done in the dry? Suppose that we had the free coin- age of silver into Bland dollars, which many clamor for! Gold 3oO THE DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES. would h;^ diiveii fi-oiii us iu all purchases and payniouts just as fast as llie miuts could coin the silvei-; and when the volume of the latter became large enough to relieve the check on gold exports, operated by the stringency of a deficient currency, the last of our gold would go. Who would be fool enough to pay gold for any purchase or debt when law enabled him ta gain 25 per cent, b^' paying in silver? Let us suppose a debtor ow- ing |1,000, who has provided a thousand gold dollars, or goods equal thereto, wherewith to pay; he has only to use this gold instead of letting his creditors have, it, to buy silver buliiou and to send it to a mint where the United States will make 'it into Bland dollars for him, without even charging him ihc slight toll of a seignorage; and he wipes off his |1,000 debt ;;nd has |2o0 silver dollars left in his pocket; of course he will io this. Of course, every other debtor will do the same. Nobody will receive any gold for any purchase or debt. It will prac- tically cease to be American money. Thoughtless people say, let us have free coinage of silver in order to have money plenty*. It is the very way to make money scarce, for it will drive away all our gold, which will not only take out .f05(»,()00,- 000 of American gold now existing, but it will dry up all that vaster volume of credits now doing money's work, founded on that gold. But the silver men claim that silver is not really depi-e- ciated in the world's commercial market. They assert that the enormous depression on its price is the wicked work of the '^gold bugs'' in passing the law of the single standard in 1873, and of Germany in adopting the single standard, thus forcing France to do the same. They claim that if the United States will adopt free coinage, and especially if she could persuade the European nations to return to the double standard, the event would show it, and silver would mount up again to the good old price of KJ for 1. Sound financiers know that this is all idle and false. Silver will never return to its former rela- tive value in a century, because its decline has not been due to any legislative acts in either Europe or America, but to an enormous increase of production and partial diminution of de- mand. In the first place, if the United States could persuade the European nations to come back to the double standard this would not increase the general demand for silver for cir- tMe Collar of tWe da^Dies; '551 eiilatiau, hut ratlun' diminish it; for I have shown rhai tlie countries of the single standard ciicuhite much more silvei- per capita than the United States, wliich has the double stand- ard. In the next place, the United iStates never will persuade the European nations to adopt our bad system of currency. Their statesmen are not such fools. Their Parliaments are lot cursed with "silver lobbies," where private producers of the siher crop have their hired agents to cause the government to "bull" the price of their special crop at the expense of all other honest producers. Some of those Parliameuts may have "Houses of Peers"; but they are not infested with oligarchs carrying mining camps in their pockets as their rotten bor- oughs under the name and pretext of sovereign States. They may send commissioners to Paris and Berlin, highly paid at the people's expense, to ventilate their sophisms before the Euro- pean financiers; it will result in nothing. Such commission- ers have already been sent and they were heard with civil con- tempt, as they deserved.* \Yhen we learn the simple facts as to the amazing change in the annual volume of the silver crop we see plainly enough why it has become and will remain much cheaper. Xew and \ery rich lodes of ore have been discovered like the famous Comstock mine. Chemistry has improved the methods of ex- tracting the metal. Old mines have been reopened as railroads and industrial enterprises are extended. Twenty years ago the annual crop of the United States and territories was about nineteen millions of ounces. It is now one hundred and sixty- one millions. ^Yhat else can result from this enormous in- crease in the crop than a marked decline in relative price? Last 3'ea.r the American crop of cotton increased from about seven and a quarter millions of bales to eight million and six hun- dred thousand. This knocks the i)rice down from ten to eiglit cents per pound. Here the increase was less than one-sixth, and it made the price fall one-fifth. But the increase in the silver crop has been eight-fold, not seventeen per cent., but eight hundred per cent! "Oh, but," exclaim the silver m,en. "the area of commerce and civilization is rapidly increasing; and with it the demands for silver for currency and the arts." *This prophecy is fulfilled by the failure of the recent Brussels conference. 352 THE Dollar of the daddies. I reply, so the uses af cotton and the world's market for cot- ton fabrics are annually extending. Has the area of commerce been extended eight hundred per cent, in twenty years? This at least would be necessary in order to absorb the eight-fold silver crop, if the other elements of demand remain as before. I>ut the}' have not. The demand for silver has relatively de- clined in several respects. As to the arts: There are more people now than twent}- years ago who think they are rich enough to use plate on their tables instead of earthenware? Yes, but the cheap process of electrotyping has been invented and the people use a hundred times as much of these wares. Again, the methods of traffic in India, China and Japan, wi'th their six hundred millions of industrial people, are changing, so as to employ relatively less silver and more gold, and bank credits. The Chinese and Japanese have long employed silver as their chief money of commerce. But since the opening of their ports a large part of the trade has passed into the hands of Europeans, whose money of commerce is almost exclusively gold and bank credits. When India was governed by its na- tive princes, the uncertaintj' and rapacity of their exactions under the name of taxes had farmed an almost universal habit among the people of annually hoarding, secreting and burying their savings in the form of silver coins. But now the British have governed India for a generation. The}' are conquerors; but the Hindoos have had time to learn that if masters, they are wise and systematic masters. Official abuses are sternly punished. Assessments and taxes, if heavy, are regular. The people have learned that there is no occasion to secrete or 'bury their riches. The silver coins, which they are able to save, need no longer be buried in the cow yard, but can be carried to the savings bank, where they will earn some interest. Thus they are returned at once into the circulation. The result of this change has been the closing of a species of gulf into which an annual stream of millions of European and Spanish-Ameri- can silver used to flow, to reappear no more for a life time. (Much, indeed, never reappeared, because the secret of the hid- ing places died with the owners). This stream is now turned back into circulation and speedily makes its presence felt in the Western world by reason of the close commercial relations between India and Europe and America. T^E DOLLAR OF THE DADDIES 35^ For tliese and other reasons, it is evident that the old re- lation of snpply and demand in the silver market is perma- nently changed. An ounce of gold will never again be bought for less than twenty ounces of silver. The best proof of this is that the fraudulent and unwise efforts of the Congress to ''bull" the silver market by its coinage laws of 1878 and 1890 have been ridiculous failures. All they effected was a small spurt In the price of silver for a few weeks. It quickly dropped to its fixed price of about a dollar per ounce (of 48(1 grains.)* At this rate the standard dollar of 371 grains, is really worth 78 8-8 cents. It will never be worth more. All laws of Con- gress that it shall be, are as futile as' a law that a pound of iron shall be worth a pound of copper, or as the pope's bull against the comet. *The ounce of silver has since declined obstinately to 84 cents. ECONOMIC EFFECTS OF THE FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN UNTIED STATES. 1894. Tlie fiiriu-c iiuisr learn diietly from the experieuce of the past. There is no truth better established in science, than this: That every fact and every law may have future value from, some useful application, perhaps wholly unforeseen. The wise scientific man. therefore, carefulh' stores up every authentic discovery, like the experienced housholder; in the confidence that it will be useful at a future day, though now apparently useless. The circumstance that this fact formerly existed in conditions not likely to be ever again exactly renewed, does by no means show it valueless. It may prove a valuable guide under new and unexpected conditions. The labor-system o'f the South before A. D. I860, is a thing of the past. Xearly a generation has lived since it was abolish- ed. It is time that the political emotions which once associated themselves with it were quieted. This seems a suitable season, therefore, after the smoke of contest has evaporated, and yet, before the data and the witnesses for the investigation have perished, to ascertain its real economic effects. This inquiry should 'be kept carefully separate from the social and the moral questions touching that system of labor. It is fully assumed, that wealth is not the only end, nor the highest end, which a commonwealth or a nation should pursue. The truth, that a given social system is the most lucrative does not prove it unjust. The single point to be pursued in this in- quiry is: What really were the economic results of the sys- tem which has passed away? And this point is sought onh' for the light it is capable of shedding on future economic prob- 354 i^ORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 355 lems, vvhicii may meet our poster! ty. Of course, science looks ouly at premises and conclusions, considering- only whether the former are ?:rounded in authentic facts; and the latter are logically drawn. The inquirer has nothing to do with precon- ceptions and inclinations, for or against the system examined. The main premises of any valuable conclusions here, are tlie facts. Theories and hypotheses are of nj account, in the face of the facts. The chief reliance must be upon the actual re- sults, as revealed by the authorized statistics of labor and pro- duction. And these will be found to demonstrate, when exam- ined from the various points of view, a cumulative proof, that the Southern labor-systenr was comparatively much the more productive of wealth and accumulated capital. It may be well to define clearly in the outset, what that labor-system was, commonly known as domestic slavery of Af- ricans. He who persists in viewing and treating it as virtually the same with the system which bore the equivalent name in pagan Greece and Rome, cannot possibly understand what the ir^outhern sj'stem reall}' was. It may be true that ''Aristotle" (Politics) "can be quoted, defining a Sofhi- or slave as jpf/zo i/zi/'ivvi' "^'11 animated utensil '; or that modern assailants may declare the African in the South was made by law "a mere thing,-' "a chattel." But every fair observer knows that in the South, essential changes from that unjust and harsh sys- tem were made by Iaw% which, while for convenience sake, leaving the name of slave, made the relation to the master es- sentially a different one. So far did the laws of the South go from treating the African in 'bondage as a mere thing, owned by the master absolutely; those laws treated the bondsman as a responsible moral aj?ent, personally amenable to statute laws, and encouraged and warned by its sanctions: they pro- tected his life, limbs, Sabbath and chastity, against violenae even from his own master: and that by the same statutes, and the same penalties which protected these rights of white per- sons: they gave to the bondman a legal title, as against his. own master's estate, and even against his master's personal earnings or professional salary, to a laboring man's subsist- ence for life: the}' enabled him, if not legally held in constraint, to sue his own master at the law, for his liberty. What then remained to the master, of the prerogatives of a master? This 356 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTH KRN U. S. only: Property in the involuntary labor of the African, for life, subject to the bondsman's right of subsistence, and such control of his person and services only as was necessary to possess that title. The Constitution of the United States, the supreme law of the land, and the work of the greatest jurists and statesmen of America, has cut off all debate as to how' much and how little was lawfully meant by the relation, in giving us an exact definition, in words perfectly clear-cut and appropriate. These Africans were described as, '-Persons held to labor or service in any t^tate" (meaning: so held by regular law of that State). So, Sir William Blackstone defined the bondage which ex- isted in his day (notwithstanding Lord Mansfield's famous de- cision in the Somerset case), by law in England and all her f'olonies. as a title to another person's involuntary labor, which, while a title for life, was no more in its nature, than that of the master to the labor of his indentured apprentice. So Dr. Paley, in his moral and political philosophy. AVe have nothing to do then, with discussing the economic results of a pagan system of slavery, never known for a moment in civilized America, which dehumanized the rational human agent into a "thing a mere ''chattel." The system we have to examine was as a labor system; the subjection of the labor, for life, of a certain alien and savage population defined by the law, irrespective of their optional consent, to the heads of white, free families, in a domestic government of the master; but under the limits and restraints of civil law. What were the economic results of this vigorous expedient, to which the Southern States re- sorted in order to protect themselves from the evils of the presence of this savage population? A presence which had not been elected by those States, but forced on them, wlijile colonies, against their choice, by the slave trading laws of England and Xew England. Let the reader observe in pass- ing that nothing more is needed than this correct definitiou of the relation, to make an end of the boastful argument of th^e Abolitionist. He argues that the relation was always and es- sentially wicked. The only premise which can furnish even a pretence for this conclusion is the following: That any hu- man being's i)roperty in the involuntary labor of another hu man must be always and essentially wicked. But when this FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 357 is dragfjed into the light, its falsehood at ouce appears both; monstrous and ridiculous. The parental relation clothes the parent with property in the involuntary labor of the child. The business relation clothes the employer with property in the involuntary labor of the apprentice. The marital relation may clothe the wife with property in th» involuntary labor of the husband. There is not a legitimate government on earth that does not clothe the rulers with property in the involun- tary labor of the citizens. What else is the right to tax, to exact military service? Thus this heady argument, which has incited to a frightful civil war, to the murder of a million of men and to the final destruction of a free constitution, is fjund to be nothing but the blind pressing of a false issue. The evil thing which Abolitionism professed to attack had no existence except in its own slanderous accusations. Another caution must be observed, in a fair examination of this question. The productiveness of a given system may be partly determined by the features of the system itself; and partly by the personal traits of the people managed under it; as the eflficiency of a given army in the field depends partly on the system of arming and drill, and partly on the "personnel" and morale of the race from which the ranks are filled. Now, a la'bor-system, as such, should not be held responsible for the initial state of barbarity, ignorance, laziness, ineptness, and general unthrift, of the persons first delivered to it to be by it employed. The necessity of employing such instruments as the savage Africans were, may have prejudiced the results of a better labor-system in -a comparison with some worse system, which has the good fortune to employ civilized, etficient, trained la- bor at the outset. And if the former, in spite of this disad- vantage, yet produce large results, while it improved the la- bor and morale of its sorry instruments: this would be, to the thoughtful mind, the most splendid evidence of its efficiency as a system. A verv slight acquaintance with the science of economics teaches, that little can be learned by a general and cursory view of societies and comparison of their aspects. Yet many have argued that the Southern labor-system must be eeonomicallj h"(^ because they found more of the surface a])pearnn('es of 8p8 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. wealth, in the Euvope and America of tbe nineteenth century, as large cities, splendid mansions, lavish expenditures, and princely incomes, in hireling; societies than in slaveholding; more in England than in Jamaica; or more in New York than in Virginia. But several facts must be remembered: of which one is: That in modern times, the slave-holding societies, in every case, had been made, in one way or another, industrially tributary to the hireling. The West-Indian and South Ameri- can settlements were colonies to Great Britain, France, Spain, Portugal, Denmark, or Holland; and their industries were by law subjected to restrictive systems, designed to transfer a large part of their earnings to the home traders. The South- ern States, between the end of the revolutionary war and 1789, the admitted leaders in wealth and progress, no sooner entered the Federal Fnion. than their industries also were made tribu- tary, by bounty, navigation, tariff, and financial enactments of Congress, to their hir(^ling-labor partners. Thus, there has been no example, not injuriously meddled with, by which it could be shown how profitable the Southern system would be when it had a fair chance? It can never be determined which of two hives of bees is most productive in honey-making while the bees of one hive are regularly empowered to rifle every re- turning worker of the other hive, of a part of his sweets. Both the tendencies of the hireling cammunities in America, and of the Federal policy towards those States, were more favorable than the Southern system to gathering a larger portion of their people into towns. But any populous town, whatever the goodness or badness of its labor-system, tends to stimulate ornamental agriculture around its suburbs. One only of the influences need (be mentioned. Most Americans, when enriched by traffic, vehemently desire the amusements and boast of an ornamented, suburban farm, or villa. The products of these, evoked by lavish outlay of labor and manure, never equal their cost. Probably every ton of hay from the model farm has cost tlie price of a ton and a half to produce it; every boasted pound of golden butter has cost two pounds. But now. while these lavish toys of "merchant princes" spread a pleasing zone of culture and apparent fertility around each pompous city, they are in no sense productive industry: no more so than the lemons which the lady-wives have ripened in their conservatories, at FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S, 359 the cost of a dollar for each lemon, worth half a dime. The more any society has of these toy-farms, the more is its ag- gregate wealth wasted. If the admiring tourist would go to the more retired parts of the regions tributary to this city, he would soon see, in the "nakedness of the land." or in the hard- ships of its poor, the proof of that proposition. But as it is, the European abserves, landing at Boston, and journeying thence to Marblehead, to Xew Providence, to New Haven, to Xew York, to Newark, to New Brunswick, to Elizabeth, to Trenton, to Philadelphia, to Chester, to Wilmington (Dela- ware), scarcely gets out of one artificial suburban or zone, un- til he enters another. He leaps to the conclusion, that these hireling States are all in a state of splendid prosperity. Should he then continue his journey past Baltimore, to Washington, to Richmond, and the farther Southern iStates, the Atlantic border so expands itself in its geographical configuration, in- stead of the crowded convexity of the region he has passed over, and the cities are so few and small, that the bare spaces of the unadorned continent appear largely. Each Southern city has also its zone of fictitious wealth; but they are far apart: the eye of the unfriendly tourist prefers to rest on the poorer inter-spaces: he convinces himself that these States are poor. He has taken but a partial, and therefore a deceptive, view. Nobody can be blind to the natural differences made by the Creator, between favored and slighted districts, as to na- tural soil and climate. Let the alluvial plain of Lombardy be compared with the bleak sand and pine barrens of old Brand- enberg: Is there on earth a tougher, more hardy, diligent, sav- ing peasantry than that of Brandenberg, and is not their farm- ing guided by the best science in Europe? But all this can only keep alive on that hungr3- soil, under that harsh climate, a starveling appearance of tillage, which is pitiful beside the smiling abundance of the Po alluvium. Here are natural dis- advantages, which no virtue of any labor-system can equalize or compensate. Now, it has been said a thousand times: that the old Atlantic slave States had a great advantage in the na- tive fertility of their soils; but that these fat fields have been skinned and impoverished by the 'bad system of labor. Both parts of this statement have always been simply false. The lands which, in Virginia and the Carolinas, showed poverty in 360 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. 8. 1860, had always been poor. They had never been made poor, but were born poor. The uphmds of the old Atlantic water- shed, which are the vastly larger part of that area, are natural- ly thin and barren at their Northern, and their Southern ends. They were poor in New England. The part embraced in the old Middle States, from the Hudson to the Potomac, were na- turally the best. In Virginia they began to deteriorate, and the natural average became worse and worse, as they ap- proached the Gulf. Florida being the poorest of all. In the one great Illinois bottom oppo.site St. Louis and Southern Mis- souri, there is more fertile mould than nature ever gave to all Eastern Virginia, or either Carolina. When the really rich virgin soils of the great Mississippi valley were opened to cul- tivation, the new States had an advantage for production and the accumulation of capital, which statistics can hardly ex- press. How ought that industry, which yields fifty or sixty- bushels of maize per acre, without manure, to outrun that which, with the same labor of cultivation, yields, without ma- nure, ten bushels? Such was and is the virgin strength of the larger part of the upland area of the old Southern States. Sd far as any criterion could be found, of the relative advantage of the Southern System, from observing the face of the coun- try, the simple facts were, in 1860, these: The African labor was holding its place as the preferable labor, in every district of every Southern State where it had ever had foothold, be- sides extensive and profitable emigration to new regions. It' was steadily making its way into those fertile parts of the Southern States once tilled by white, hireling labor; because found practically more profitable. The whole area of the old South was in a rapid and splendid state of reparation and im- provement: even the thin land described, which never had any fertility to lose, coming rapidly up to profitable tillage. And I he few bauds and islets of really strong land presented, in 1S60. the most magnificent tillage and the largest crops seen in any of the old States. Let it be distinctly understood, that these general views are not advanced as the conclusive prjofs of the good results of the system. That proof will be given below, in the authen- tic testimony of the government itself, and in solid facts of- ficially attested. The objects of the above views are simply FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 361 preliminary: to clear away from the reader's iniud presumptive impressions against the truth: to rebut by more accurate and impartial views, the prejudices excited against the witness we are about to introduce, through false first impressions. One of these impressions, much relied on. is the appearance of exten- sive exhausted fields in the South. It has been unhesitatingly claimed that slavery was the cause; that an exhausting cultiva- tion is the proof of its bad economic etfeet. The one answer has been already given: that many of these lands could not justly be said to be exhausted by any cause, inasmuch, they were naturally so poor as to have almost no fertility to lose. But there were districts in the South which, before the splen- did recuperation of 1845-1860, effectuated under slave labor, had been in an exhausted condition. Now if the same result be found in several other districts where slavery never existed, the argument is ruined. The same result has. in fact, been found in every district of America, where these two circumstances concurred; the possession of a profitable staple saleable in large quantities, and sufticiemt proximity to market. In any country, and under ever}" system of labor, if new land is cheaply accessible, this result follows tsee John Stewart Mill. Political Economy. Book I. chaptei' 12 ». The profitable staple tempts the first generation of land- owners to exhausting cultivation. They su}»pose that it is more gainful to exhaust the land, and take up other fields new and cheap, than to manure the old. This cause has regularly pro- duced exhaustion in the hireling States, as in the South. Thus ninety years ago. New England farmers went to the calcar- eous lands of Vermont to raise wheat. They pressed their gainful staple, but exhausted their soil. To-day those old wheat farms are sheep pastures, and the shepherds scarcely raise their own flour. Fifty years ago the second generation of these Vermont wheat growers emigrated from their exhaust- ed farms to the (renesee country of West New V ti-k to raise wheat. They reaped forty bushels per acre, from the virgin soil; but they pressed the skinning process, until the average product fell below twelve bushels per acre. Then the next' generation went to Ohio, and skinned the apparently exhaust- less lands of that State, the boast of this school of economists: until the remorseless truthfulness of census-returns showed, 362 FuKMER LABUR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. that Oliio was yielding an average of only eight and a half bushels. And naw the fourth generation are skinning the fat prairies of Iowa and Nebraska. Another argument has been flaimed from the recuperation of production within the last twenty years in the subjugated States. The exclamation is: Behold here, what the South gains 'by getting rid of her bad economic system of labor. Some SDUtherners even, have been shallow enough to echo it; because, poor fellows, they had been so accustomed, for the first fifteen years of their subjuga- tion, to desperate poverty and hopelessly unremunerated ef- fort, that any degree of increase boks splendid in their eyes: blinded to the past by the tears of despair. The latter, partial return of progress in production is. indeed, a magnificent tes- timony to the temper and pluck of the ex-slaveholders: in that under a system sj adverse as the present they could ever restore any progress at all. But we meet with a flat denial, the as- sertion that industrial progress, and tlie growth of new capital now^ presents any such comparative ratio to that of the old sys- tem, as to prove the supposed point. Between 1840 and 1860, Virginia, an old State pursuing mainly other staples than wheat, increased her wheat crop from ten to thirteen million bushels, and her tobacco from fifty-six to one hundred and twenty-four millions of pounds I This progress was under her old system of labor. Her wheat and t3bacco crops up to 1880, under the new system, were restored only to: wheat, 7,826,174 bushels, and tobacco, 79,988,868 pounds. Only one other fact is necessary. Between 1850 and 1860 the cotton crdj). pecu- liarly and exclusively the product of the Southern system, grew fr3m two and a half million bales, to five and a half millions: an increase of 110 per cent, in ten years. Let it now be remem- bered that in 1860 the cotton raising States had but seven and a half millions of people. Xow they have about seventeen mil- lions. But since 1860, thirty years ago, this larger population, under hireling labor, has only raised the crop of 1894 ta ten million bales. A phenomenal crop? Here is progress: progress gratifying to a conquered and despoiled people: but it is a sorry showing as compared with that of the aid system. Leav- ing out the years of the war, a similar ratio of progress would have given us in 1894 fiftv-two millions of bales instead of the FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN" U. S. 363 actual ten iiiillioii. This calciilatiou, of course, discounts the re- pressive power of au overstocked market. No economist chiims for the sratisrics of a census, entire accuracy. But it is pre- sumable tliar omissions and inaccuracies virtually balance each other, when a comparative view is carefully deduced be- tween two sections. If, for instance, our appraisement of the cash value of a given product which is reported in bushels or tons, should be somewhat too low, or too high, no comparative error results, because that product in both sections has been appraised at the same price: so that the one section gains or loses by any possible error of price, precisely in proportion to the other. But in all important particulars, the advantage in the following estimates has been intentionally given to the hire- ling States. The two following instances will explain this. The wheat crops are given in bushels. It is well known to mer- chants, that the average price of a bushel of Southern wheat was considerably" more, in any year, than of the Northwestern wheat, which furnishes always the main bulk of that crop in the hireling States: because it comes into an earlier market, because it is more flinty and mature, and thus makes a flour worth often half as much again for export, and because the Southern crop includes no spring wheat; always inferior to the winter wheat. Yet, in estimating the value of wheat, both in 1850 and 18G(), the same price was allowed for all Northern, as for Southern wheat. Thus the advantage of many millions of dollars was allowed to the hireling system. The other in- stance is our unquestioning acceptance of the census-estimates of personal property at the North. The nature of Northern pursuits has unquestionably pro- duced a vastly larger development of that class of so-called val- ues, known as credits, or securities, at the North, than at the South. These credits are named as personal property: art^ sub- ject to taxation and are always counted by men in estimating their wealth. They are. of course, listed as personal property by the census, and by the tax assessor, except that enormous fortune concealed by fraud. But many of them are not values. When the capital stock of a railroad, which actually expended nni millions in its plant, is swelled by ''watering" to twenty millions, however these fic- titious shares may sell, or may pay dividends, they represent 364 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 110 real values: tliey are only an artifice for levying a gratuitous lien, and exacting a roibber tax on all the real industry wliicli seeks transportation on the road. When an owner of real es- tate sells land on credit and takes the purchaser's bond no value is created by that transaction, ^yas the land worth ten thousand dollars? There is now the land, taxable in the pur- chaser's hands at ten thousand dollars of value: and there is the bond, taxable in the vendor's hands, as another ten thou- sand. Each man counts the amount. The tax-assessor counts it twice; but not a dollar of value exists, as yet, beyond the ten thousand. Those who argue the reality of the fictitious, credit value, ask: Is this bond worth nothing to the holder? ■Cannot it be sold at par, if secured by mortgage on the land? Sued for? Bequeathed? Surely it is a real value! But the stubborn answer is: Whence has any real value been created? The land, the only original value, is now in the purchaser's hand: and clearly value can not be created by exchanging a piece of paper. The explanation which these economists over- look is very simple. There are rights, which may grow into values only. But rights may be sold, bequeathed, held by law. When a great commercial crash comes, like that of 1873, this species of wealth vanishes by hundreds of millions. How is this? There is no way in which actual values have been used or consumed, no fire, flood, shipwreck, w^ar exportation, de- vouring of an3'thing. Literally no process of consumption of values known to political economy has taken place; but sud- denly thousands of people are poorer by millions. The ex- planation is, that the credits destroyed by the ''panic'' never had been aetual, but only potential values. They never actually existed as values: no value has been actually destroyed. The only diminution of real values or wealth which the panic has caused is the depreciation of prices of such possessions as are real commodities. Now, in the appraisement of values, it is notorious that the lists of the hireling States contained many- more hundreds of millions of credits than those of the Southern States. These States were mainly agricultural; their trading towns were i-clativelyfew and small ;and the species of "business" so-called, and speculations, by which these credits are nominally inflated, were comparatively unknown among them up to 1860. But I'ORMeII LAfeOi? SYSTEM Oi' tHE SOUTHERN tJ. 8. M^ we have made no deduction against the hireling States on rlii^i ground: a large advantage has been all awed them in the com parison. Before 185(1, the census returns had scarcely been taken on so comprehensive, or digested on so scientific a scale, as to make their testimony decisive. After 18(50 the Southern system no more had any existence during a census year. Hence our comparisons are justly limited to the years 1850 and 18(30: and these are enough. The testimony of the government it- self, then is as follows. In 1850 the total appraised values of the Southern States were |2,900,604,589 to 9,318,924 total population; subtracting 3.201,818 slaves: (),118,921 whites. If this aggregate were di- vided among the whites per capita, it would give possessions averaging |472 per head to the whites. Or if it be insisted that the negroes shall be counted among the population, we had |810 per head for white and black. Or, else: if we yield to (un- fair) assertion that, in this comparison, the property in the la- bor of slaves shall not count for anything: we then deduct the whole, appraising all, men, women, children, and decrepit at |250 per head, which is a high estimate for 1850; and we have left a property of |355 per soul for each Southerner. In 1850 the hireling States had thirteen and a half millions of souls, and the appraised possessions of all kinds were |3,621,011,661. Each soul then had an average of |270. This gives the super- ior riches to the fc?outh, by |85 per head, if we strip the South- erners of all property in the labor of the Africans; although hundreds of millions of dollars of actually realized and paid up capital had been paid by them for that species of property. If the Africans are counted as property, then the average South- erner was richer by |202. In 18()0 the Soutli had twelve mil- lions of people, includiug not cpiite four millions of Africans. Her appraised values were |(J,74(>,34:i,T(;i, an increase of more than double in ten years. The liireling States with eighteen and four-fifths millions of souls, presented a total of |9,257,9G4,- 000, The North had received from foreign emigrations an an- nual accession of several hundred thousand people more than the South, estimated to have brought them, besides their per- sons and labor, an average of |1,000 each in cash. Still the relative major wealth was with the South; each white soul having 1831, as against |490 to each soul in the North. Or, 366 FORMEK LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN tT. g. if file unfair dediu-rioiis be insisted on. of all propei'ty in the labor of the Africans, eaeh ir^outherner still had $637, as against the Northern average of |490 per head. And the deduction is here made at the liberal rate of |400 for each soul of the Afri- cans, their market value having risen in ten years. Or, if the division of the Sauthern total be made between the whole pop- ulation, including all the Africans, there was still an average of 1560 per head, against |490 at the North. Or, let another view be inspected. In 1860 the hireling States reared of the cereals used by Americans as human food, five hundred and sixty-one millions of bushels, and the South- ern vStates four hundred and ninety-four millions. That is, the hireling system gave each of its sauls about thirty bushels; but the Southern system gave each of its souls forty-one bushels. Moreover, the hireling States boasted in these cereals as their great export crops. But the South, after feeding every one of her souls one-fourth more liberally than the hireling States, must have had proportional surplus for export, besides her magnificent totals of cotton and tobacco I Again, of the do- mestic animals used hj Americans as human food (horned cat- tle, sheep and swine) the hireling States had in 1860 about forty millions, or a little more than two per soul for each inhabitant: While the South had forty and a half millions, or about three and a half for each inhabitant. But, as the flesh of swine is so predominant in the food of laboring Americans, it will be interesting to see the proportions here. The hireling States had not quite twelve millions of swine; while the South had twenty millions six hundred thousand. The hireling system gave each mouth a little more than six-tenths of one swine per annum; while the Southern system gave each mouth one whole swine and seven-tenths of a second.. But this does not tell the whole story. A part of the hireling States were very large ex- porters of pork. Sundry of the Southern States were, on the contrary, large importers: and none of them sent away any ap- preciable export of it. So that the laboring people of the hire- ling States must have been dejtrived by export of quite a large portion of their scanty six-tenths of swine per mouth; and the Southern laborer must have eaten that portion, and all his one and seven-tenths besides. Yet the cry was: The African was wronged by being scantily fed! Again, in 1860, the South, with FORMkK LABOH StStEM of THE SOUTHERN tj. S. ^67 a little iiioi'c than twelve niillious of people, had 8.SiH,7"jr) horses, asses and iiiules. The hiieliui>- States, with uot quite nineteen millions of people, had 4,335.240. Once more: the an- nual earnings of the hireling States, including all the branches of agriculture, mining and manufactures, and the whole value of live stock were $08.(37 per head for the whole population in 1850. The same vear, the same industries in the South yielded as increase fl08.25 for every soul, including the Africans. In 1860, the earnings of the hireling States amounted to only 1101.44 for each soul; but in the S:iuth. to ^111.35 for every soul, including the Africans. When we multiply this difference of about 10 per cent, in 1850 and of 16 per cent, in 1860 by the twelve millions of the Southern people, it makes a huge dif- ference in the proportional pritits. in favor of the Southern system. The returns of 1860 also disclose another fact: that successful manufacturing industries were at that time, by no means confined to the hireling States. It is true, that the South was prevalently agricultural: not because its civiliza- tion, or its labor system was ruder, but because its tastes and interests drew it by an enlightened intluence, in that direction. That its agricultural preference was enlightened is demon- strated by the grand fact, testified by the government itself: that its profits were larger than those of the other States work- ing on a sj'stem m )re largely manufacturing. The South knew what it was about. Yet. there was a very large development of successful manufacturing industry, of which the rest of the world was strongly unobservant. Some times, the instances of this were amusing. In 1864 a ''raid" of a cavalry detachment into Virginia reiiiulted in the sack of two or three irDu-snielting establishments in her upper counties. A metropolitan journal in Xew York thei'eupon congratulated Mr. Lincoln at this vital reduction of the iron I'esources of the Confederate government at Richmond, informing the w:irld that Virginia in 1860 had had six furnaces in ()|»eration: of whose resources one-third was now extinguislied. In fact, the one county of Rockbridge in 1860 had more than 12. and the adjoining c )uiify of Allegany as many! In 18as- tial), have usually followed Adam Smith, in demonstrating the unprofitableness of slave labor, from premises given chiefly by fancy and slander. It should have given them pause at least in their application of their passionate declarations, to our Southern system, to remember that most of them had never been in three thousand miles of our country: and that none of I hem had any peri^onal knowledge of the real character o': the S:;utiiei-u ])eople, or of the Africans. The stock arguments are such as these: "That our system made the masters la/y: That the slave will slight his work as 872 FOKMEK LABOE SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHEKN U. S. much as lie dares, having- no incentive to diligence but I'ear; while the free peasant proprietor, incited by self-interest, will work to the best advantage: That the methods of labor will be wasteful: That the proprietors, not having expended their own labor for the products, will administer them wastefully: That travelers testify: one intelligent free laiborer did the work of two slaves," etc. Mr. Mills, in his discussion of communism, for which his in- tense political radicalism gave him quite a fellow^ feeling, has powerfully refuted his own passionate arguments against the bad economy of slave labor. No better defense of its good eco- nomic etfects need be desired, than the passages in book 2 ch. 1. where, after perforce admitting that the labor of communists must be compulsory, he yet argues that it would be the most efficient of all. What apjdication these arguments may have had to the serfs of Russia and Hungary, to the slaves of Brazil and the IJritisli West Indi(\s, we do not pretend to know. But we do know that they lack application, in a single point, to our South- ern system. When African servants were poor savages, inept, alien, knowing no words of English, and moreover stiffened and enfeebled by the horrors of the ''middle passage," very possibly they did only half a freeman's work. It is not unusual that a maxim which had a basis of truth at the beginning, may be repeated by inaccurate observers, long after that basis is re- moved. Certain it is that in the 19th century, after civiliza- tion, discipline, good feeding, intelligent tuition, and constant domestic intercourse with the most spirited and cultivated of the white races, the Africans had wholly changed. In 1860, as they were the best fed and- clothed, so they were the most athletic, the most skilled, the most effective and the most cheerful agricultural laborers in the world. Nothing is said here of the multitudes of skilled artisans among them, as smiths, masons, plasterers, carpenters, machinists, horse- fanciers, sugar-refiners, stone-cutters, quarrymen. The indus- try of our system was prominently agricultural; we speak main- ly of the agricultural labor. We do not ask the reader to ac- cept this testimony upon the word of the writer, who after be- ing reared among these African laborers, had opportunity per- sonallv to compare their efficiency with that of free laborers in FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 378 Gi-eat Britain, Germany and the Nortli. But it is fortified by a number of solid facts, which no one acquainted with the t^outh will hazard his credit by disputing. In 1800, the census itself told us, what Northern statesmen had to admit: that the lands immediately South of tlie divid- ing line, in Maryland, N^iiginia, Kentucky, were rated at least i)ne-fifth higher than lands of the same soil and climate in Penn- sylvania and Ohio, immediately North of the line, tilled by free, or hireling labor. The great "Valley of Virginia" was settled by the Scotch- Irish peasantry. But, while at first a free labor district, with almost no Africans, its inclusion under the Virginia State gov- ernment of course opened it to the Southern system. The white, hireling labor was, and is, the best, the most moral, and "the most efticient free labor in America. But from 1840 to 18G0 the African labor was introduced steadily and progressively, in preference to it. This was usually done by the most progres- sive, skilled and successful land-owners; and almost invariably the neighborhoods of highest agriculture were those in which this change had gone farthest. The original sentiment of the "Valley'' people had been more favorable to free, or hireling labor. Although the major part of the immigration into America went northward, the South received quite an appreciable share of it. Some German, more New England, and still more Irish laborers entered the South, and attempted every other imag- inable line of industry. But it was a notable fact, that they( never anywhere entered into competition with the Africans for farm labor. But the demand for more farm labor was contin- ually increasing, with the growing prosperity and capital of the country. The immigrants saw that they simply could not keep pace with the bondsmen. Between 1850 and 1800 there was a gigan- tic extension, in the South, of railroads and other internal im- ]H-ovements. Multitudes of experienced Northern contractors sought the country, to share in the profits of these works. They usually brought white hireling labor with them. But the South- ern contractors on neighboring sections uniformly executed their contracts with African labor, more quietly, more thor- oughly, and more economically. Northern engineers superin- 374 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. teuding the works soon saw and acknowledged the fact. North- ern contractors either replaced their white hireling labor by Africans, or the}' transferred their contracts to Southern con- tractors and retired. Such was the regular tendency, not uni- formly carried out, because so many grand works were in progress, that all the available Africans found employment, and many whites besides. But it came to be the current and well known answer among successful railroad men to the question, "Can he make a profit on that contract?" ''Yes, provided he gets black labor." The sudden and violent emancipation undoubtedly depre- ciated the black labor .and that seriously. Every land holder felt it. X:)t a few former slave holders, still in bondage to the dogmatism of hireling labor assertion, when they were robbed of their black labor, comforted themselves (or affected to com- fort themselves) with the profession: "Oh, well; they may be more profitable as hirelings than as bondsmen." One or two years farming invariably undeceived them. The terrible losses incurred by the deterioration of freedmen's labor then begat an intense desire to substitute for it some other hireling labor. Multitudes of experiments were made. Landholders reach out every whither for other labor. They imported Swedes, Dutch- men, Norwegians, French, and, of course, Irish. They even borrowed from California some of her Chinese. But the in- variable conclusion was, that while the freedmen's labor was impaired, all these were yet worse. The African, much deter- iorated from his efficiency, still reuuiined the best labor, and to-day all over the former slave-holding districts, if hireling la- bor is used at all it is mainly that of blacks. The African has again occupied the labor market so far as any labor market re- mains on the farms, and the landlords who do not get on with- out labor, have to adjust their outlay, and their hopes of profit to the stingier scale of this impaired labor: it is better than any other accessible. In order to infuse a particle of argument into the remark that a slave who has no higher motive than fear of the lash, will slight his work more than the peasant proprietor; it must be shown that the modern hireling system has a tendency to increase the number of intelligent peasant proprietors tilling their own acres with their own hands, and that the Southern FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 375 system tended to extinguish them. The facts are notoriously tlie opposite. The material civilization of hireling nations de- mands constantly, the consolidation of smaller holdings into larger, the combination of more labor in one enterprise, and the application of larger capital, in order to t-lieapen produc- tion. One has only to look at Great Britain: ThP3ughout the South, there was a large and growing class of thrifty yeomen farmers, who, while slaveholders, labored regularly with their slaves. This class did more really verify that pleasing picture of labor done from enlightened self-interest; because the one or two blacks "keeping row about" with tlieir master and his sturdy sons, were carried forward by example, atfection and emulation, and not by the lash. But sim-e the tendency of the hireling system is to have even more of the labor done by mere hirelings, than was ever done at the South by slaves; it is enough to ask the practical man: Can not a mere hireling be a time server? Cannot he als.) cheat his employer of the due task? Is the fear of losing the shilling any higher motive than the fear of the lash? As to the universal plague and curse of inefficiency in hire- ling labor, let Mr. John Stuart Mill's melancholy testimony be heard. Speaking of the heavy losses experienced by the hire- ling societies of Europe througli the 1 jw moral tone of the la- borers, he sighs thus: Book 1. ch. 1», p. 173: "All who have ever employed hired labor have had ample experience of the efforts made to give as little labor in exchange for the wages, as is coii.patible with not being turned off. There is universal neglec . by domestic servants of their employers' interests — un- le-;s wliere long continuance in the same service and reciprocal go )d offices have produced personal attachment." And this is exactly what the Southern system did. ''Friendly relations and community of interests and feelings between laborers and em- ployers are eminently so" (conducive to profit). ''I should rather say: would be so, for I know not wliere any such sentiment of friendly alliance now exists." [We add the emphasis of the "italics." Bk. I. Ch. 12, p. 281.) Had Mr. Mill allowed himself to look at the Southern la- bor system "with eyes unclouded by prejudice, he would have seen precisely this relationship between laborers and employ- ers, which he sighs for as the hopeless ideal. 376 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. The adult bondsmau usually felt as much pride and zeal for the success of the year; for the cleanest fields; for the finest sample of cotton or tobacco, or the highest price, as the master; often more. In their comparisons of the farms with each other, the speakers belonging to different masters, it was always: "Our crop''; ''our prices"; "our victory" in the race for the largest return. The reproach of a crop in the grass was their personal humiliation. The loss of grain by a freshet, or of cat- tle by disaster, was always their loss. Often and often, in the former contingency, were the negroes seen far more zealous to rescue the precious harvest from the rising waters than the mas- ter: S3 that he would be heard recalling them with entreaties and commands, against their protests, from farther risk of health or life. Of course all this sounds very strange to a mind deluged with imaginary tales of plantation despotism. But all is credible to any intelligent man, who remembers how certain- ly the warm tie of clanship and feudal allegiance sprang up, between all wholesome natures brought into the domestic rela- tion of superior and inferior. In the 16th century, the power of the Highland Chief in Scotland, over his ''gilly,'' was prac- tically all that a master's could be over a serf: as truly for life, as unrestrained, as complete. But every clansman to the low- est "gilly'' was inllamed with the pride and zeal of his clan; he impersonated it in his Chief; he stood ready to die for him. He who would understand the Sonrlicin system must also give the adult bondsman credit for a grade of intelligence, vast- ly higher than the scanty use he made of letters would imply. It must be remembered, that this black man has grown up in domestic intimacy and friendship with his master, a member of the most cultured race in Christendom. The black man has heard and joined in his conversation. He has heard the preach- ing of his master's pastor. In sickness he has been instructed and treated by his scientific physician. He has been taught at least the practical part (often the theoretic) of that skillful and enlightened method of agriculture, in which he is occupied, and of the constant use of the best mechanical appliances in the world. He has been the intimate and interested spectator of a large and sagacious domestic economy. To suppose that such a bondsman does not comprehend his own and his family's in- terest in the plantation would be a blunder much more stupid rbau Africans usuallv make. FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 377 No; lie comprehends perfectly, that this plantation is vir- tnally a joint stock entei-})i'ise nnder the master's presidency. That as he has received from it his nurture in boyhood; so he is now indebted to it for certain employment, subsistence and home: That it assumes for him the certain and comfortable support of his wife and children, whether sickness, or drought, or freshet or hail come or no: That it is the safe savings bank, Into which he is now annually putting the fund, which is un- failing to support him in his old age, ''sitting under his owin vine and fig tree," without labor or care: That the insolvency of the enterprise, through the laborers' fault would be the dread- ed loss of all these hoarded advantages, and would imply risk of separations, impoverishment, and banishment from his here- ditary home. The intelligent black well understood all this. Hence, the plantation usually dis])layed as the result of loyal al^'ection, and reasonable self-interest the nearest approach seen under any modern system, to Mr. Mill's ideal relation of labor. There was no hireling labor on earth, requiring so little of the expense of supervision; no laborers who executed so much la- bor with so little of the eye of master, overseer, or "boss" upon them. The remarks thus far made have been directed chiefly to obviating errors and objections; we advance to more positive arguments. The first is: 1. One exceedingly simple, though surprisingly overlook- ed. Let there be two societies, in each of wliich there is a body of people without capital, who should therefore be workers, and who must be consumers, and of equal numbers. In the one so- ciety, there is no positive authority to nmke any of this body work, who do not choose. The consequence is, that one-third of them do not choose, work none, and live by preying on the fruits of others' labor. But the two-thirds being freely moved thereto: we may suppose work A'ery well. In the other society, there is a firm ])ractical authority, which compels every one to work six days in every week. They ma^' not work quite so *ell as the voluntary workers in the other society — we may concede merely for argument's sake — yet, as there are three ta two, a good deal more is done; a good many more values are produced, and, above all, the society is delivered from the consuming pest of the idlers, and all the vices, disorders, and interruptions sug- 378 FOKMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. gestcd by idleness. Such was the literal difference between the Southern system and its rival. The former had, in its laboring class, no able-bodied idlers, no "tramps," no "boys," no strong men wasting their strength on "hurdy gurdies" and dancing monkeys; no such thing as a "criminal class," and very few criminals. The economic advan- tage is too plain to dispute. 2. The expense of dealing with, and providing for the pauper and criminal classes is a dead charge on the production of the society. In a hireling society, it is rehitively a very oner- ous one. The subsistence of paupers, at public, instead of pri- vate expense, implies the additional cost of buildings, officials to be salaried, and the waste and speculation commonly attend- ing public administration. As to the "dangerous classes," they must be watched by a costly, and most often, an inefficient po- lice. Then there must be well paid sheriffs to arrest them, pa- latial jails to secure them, salaried judges to try them, all the apparatus of a costly legal profession to prosecute and defend them and at last, enormous and expensive penitentiaries to pun- ish them in, at the cost of the honest workers. Look now, at the simplicity and economy of the Southern sj'stem. There were almost no white paupers: and there could not be in a whole State, a single black one. The infirm were cared for by the masters, on the plantations, with no additional charge for lodging, nursing, or attending. This reduced the cost of rhe charity to that of simple food, clothing and medicine. There was no criminal class, and consequently, not one dol- lar of cost for police. The plantation policed itself. Felonies prosecuted before the courts of the country were very few ; and justice was administered by the master himself, for all those minor offenses (which in hireling societies require so expensive an apijaratus of police, courts, lawyers, costs, prisons) without (Uie cent of charge, without officials, without any prison or court house, without the loss t)f a day's labor by the culprit. His otfense was sini})ly examined by his master, almost invariably a judicious and moderate judge; he was either cleared, scolded, or switched; and went at once bai-k to his work. No word is needed to show how favorable the morality of a population is to production. The Southern system not only reduced to the minimum cost the prosecution of such law FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 379 breakers as slie had. but astoiiisliingiy reduced rlioir nuuibers, bv improviufi- the practical morality of her people. The South- ern system was the most effective temperance S3ciety in the world. The regular supervision and methodical employment removed the lat^orers from temptation; and in the few cases of intDxication, a smart application of the birch was a better re- cipe to produce immediate relief, than all the materia medica. It is probable that up to 18G0. there was not one drunkard's grave filled by a bondsman in America. There was no loss of time from dissipation, little waste of values in liquors, and no police expense a'bout disorders. Thus in ISoO, when the whole population of the Njrth was about thirteen and a half millions, and of the South nine and a half (whites and blacks) the hireling societies had 23,664 criminal convictions, while the South had 2.021. The same year the North was supporting 114,704 pau- pers; the South 20,563. In Boston, Mass., and the adjacent county, the persons in jails, houses of correction, or refuge, and almshouses, bore among the blacks, the ratio of one to sixteen of that population; and among the whites, of one to every thirty- four. The same year in liichmynd. Va., the same unhappy class- es bore, among tlu' blacks, the ratio of one to forty-six, and among the whites, of one to one hundred and twelve. Had the iudu.«try of the hireling system really been greatly more profit- able than that of the Southern, the expense of all this excess of crime would have eaten up the whole overplus and more. 3. The Southern system always presented an economic ad- vantage, in the stable and peaceable relation it established be- tween capital and labor. Every year since its overthrow has but illustrated this advantage, and sober minds were never so well prepared to appreciate it, as by the strikes and angry con- tests between employers and hirelings, which approach every season more nearly the fearful dimensions of anarchy and civil war. How shall capital enjoy that quiet, sure and steady con- irol of hireling labor, which is absolutely essential to produc- tion; and yet hireling labor be protected against injustice, and against that depression of wages under their stern law of sup- })ly and demand in an increasing population, which pauperizes labor? This is the insoluble question, the very crux of the scientific economists, before which they stand confused and helpless. The "labor unions" may result in anarchy, or in com- 880 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SoTJTHEllN U. S. munism, or in a "reign of terror": they will never lead to a wholesome solution. The KSonthern system solved it, so far as the classes of la- borers under it was engaged, by a simple and complete remedy. This was to abolish the very conditions of the strife, by making the laborer the property of the capitalist. One result efficacious- ly secured was, that the laborers could never be pauperized or reduced below a comfortable and efficient standard of subsist- ence: because the capitalist, in doing this, would be destroying his own property. Another result was, that there were no con- troversies nor strikes, so wasteful of time and subsistence, and so obstructive of i)roduction. Still another was, that it was impossible for the laborer ever to feel that most cruel of all wants, the want of work, while willing to work, and pressed by starvation if he did not. The South, instead of ever witnessing that pitiful and har- rowing scece lately enacted in London, when six thousand des- perate men with starving wives and children behind them, beset the government offices deujanding, in vain, not bread, but work, to be beaten back by the police; never once in a century saw the head of one black family "out of work'' except on his intended holidays. For the master knew that, wliether any work were going 01. or not he had that family to f(^ed and clothe, and })res€rve from destitution, to this both the law and his own interests must imperiously f^rce him. Hence the master felt a power- ful interest in foreseeing, in prearranging, in dedicating his own capital to some useful labor, which If not immediately pro- ductive, would ultimately be so; so that in every emergency there should be for his laborers some work compensated by subsistence. Tf the price of a product fell, by some commercial or political cause, beneath the level of profitable production, the master did not and could not resort to the usual relief of the liireliug system: suspend all i)rodu(tion and dismiss the la- borers to starve, if it might be sol Xo: lie suspended this produc- tion, and directed the labor at once to some other task provided by his capital and foresight. If the given farm staple ceased to pay the cost of production, the farm labor was diverted from it to some extensive work of drainage, stone fencing, clearing, or other amelioration which would increase future prodiu-tioiis; FoeMeR laBok system Of the souTntetiN tr. s. 381 while tlie laborers drew, in advance, out of his capital, their accustomed comfortable remuneration. •A. In appraising- the wealth of the South, we noticed the objection to counting rhe labor of the Africans as property, and while we demurred to its justice, we waived discussing it, aji not desiring here to raise the ethical question. But all the laws, all the business usages, and the full faith of the country regarded that labor as property-. It was taxable (not only with a poll, but a property tax), was vendible, could be bequeathed, and made subject to lien, or hire. From this usage the indus- try of the country derived at least this advantage: That the basis of credits was thus very greatly widened. The prudent use of credits is a wonderful aid to production. When a debt exists, it is a great advantage to the 'business of the country, that the just creditor shall find assets out of which to realize pajment. A "bad debt" is usually a dead loss to the productive capital of the country. To strip a business man of the means of giving security for a loan, is to strip him of oommerciial, credit, and thus to cripple his prosperity by a most hurtful im- position. Thus the smaller business man of Texas is already beginning to learn that the various homestead, and exemption laws, making it impossible for him, even by his own consent, to use his property as security for loans, injure instead of pro- tecting him. Tlieir only effect is to shut him inexorably out from what perhaps is most essential for his prosperity, all access to a cheap loan market. He is stripped of the power of commer- cial credits as though a pauper. Thus, this legislation, which professes to protect the families of small means, is really a law to tie the hands of the poor man and give the rich man, who' has sufficient property over and above all exemptions to offer full security, a deadly advantage against him in the loan mar- ket. The hireling system wrought a parallel disadvantage against its people, as compared with the South, by affecting to regard labor as not a value, and thus crippling the power to borrow: while the South, by making so large a part of its labor a value, doubled its solid credit. 5, Among the most luminous and valuable contributions to economic science in our age, are those investigations by which the English writers, Mill and Wakefield, and numerous accurate French and German observers have proved, and ex- '3^2 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF ^Mfi SOUTHERN U. S. plniiit'd. the superior ecouomv of nioderarely larjie over «niall pi-oductive operations. Indeed, tlie demonstration is practical- ly so sweeping, in tlie manufacturing industries, that it has revolutionized the civilized world. The individual producer has been annihilated by being undersold by the larger manufac- turer. Where is the hand loom: the domestic forge producing axes, hoes, horse-shoes, the country wheelwright, the country shoemaker? The farm cannot even afford to produce its own axe-helve, thDugh the hickory may grow in its hedge row. The same economic rule applies to moderately large agri- cull ure, as compared with peasant proprietors. The large farm- ing produces more economically, because it permit's more ap- plication of the all-important principle of "division of labor." It allows that assortment of labor, applying the cheaper hands to the lighter tasks, which save so much. On the well organized Southern farm, the plough, the axe, the scythe, the hoe, the team ottered constant and remunera- tive work to the strong men; while the less valuable labor of the hoj^ and girls, and the elderly, was equally as effective in the lighter task. But on the peasant proprietor's farm, the strong man, whose every day should have been worth to him a dollar, is compelled to spend many days in picking beans; where the child, worth a shilling a day, would pick as many. The larger farm permits the essential advantage of combination of labor. How can one man stack sheaves of grain, without a waste of time and toil almost heartbreaking, in descending from the stack, and ascending with every handful of sheaves? This is the extreme instance. But there are many operations, in which four or five men can easih' do more than four or five times as much as one man. All the purchases for the large farm can be made more savingly, because in larger quantities and at a wholesale price. But especially is the gain great in the em.- ploymeut of better implements and machinerj-. The Southern planter or farmer usually employed a part of his capital lib- erally, in providing these known to science. But how can the peasant proprietor of Belgium or France, whose farm is five acres, afford a three-horse plow, that essential of thorough till- age; or, indeed, any plow at all? Or a McOormick's reaper, or mower? Or an effective thresher? He produces his little crops I'OllMEl^ tAROU SYSTEM Ol* THE SOUTHEHN tJ. S 383 (confessedly large foi- his minute surface) at a wasteful expeu.>e of time and toil, with the spade, the wheelbarrow, the sickle and the flail. The attempt has been made to foil these facts, by assenting, that a richer peasant, or co-partnership, may own the thresher, and perambulate the neighborhood, hiring it out. This only palliates the evil. A large percentage of the time is lost, removing and re-setting the heavy machinery; many la- borers have to be specially hired, at very special prices: and tlie tolls charged are always much above just cost. Many praises have been bestowed upon the economy of these small peasant farms: "The very grass along the gutters of the chaussee, the succulent weeds from the raws of the sugar beet field, are all saved for the domestic animals.'' Yes but at a ruinous cost of wasted time. This is the shape which the sen- sible observer sees these savings take in those countries. He sees a bevy of five, seven or ten strapping young women, sally- ing forth at 1 o'clock p. m. from the '^Darf," each with her little sickle and huge liamper, to spend the Lang, bright afternoon in a tramp of a mile and a half to their parents' little sections, and in saving and bearing home (converting themselves into beasts of burden) each, two pfenwings' worth weeds or grass to be fed to the calf or milch goat. But those girls, on a well ordered Virginia farm, would have raked, dried, and loaded on the well- appointed wagons, in that one afternoon ten or twenty tons of clover hay or wheat sheaves, or oats: or later in the season have gathered each 150 pounds of seed cotton, at the minimum average of 50 cents per hundred pounds. These w'ere fright- fully wasteful savings: They are only justified by the fact, that the bad organization of this, so-called "free labor system," has made this labor, which should Ix' so valu;ible. nearly worthless to their families. Now, the force of these facts is in the following view. That if the advocate of the hireling system is t:) evade this fatal argu- ment, he must advocate large farming by hireling labor. But rhe moment he does so, lie must bid farewell to all his pretty Arcadian pictures of the snug little "glebe tilled by the willing- hands of the peasant proprietor, instead of the loitering, reluc- tant slave." He must accept and justify all those consequen- ces, wliicli the universal experience of hireling States prove to be inseparable from liigli farming with adequate capital and 884 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN V. ^. science: the eviction of rlie cotton tenantry: tlie horrible "gang; system" of lield labor: the pollnting- "bothy-systeni"" of lodging, and the brntal abominations disclosed by the British parlia- ment as to their large agricnlture. Snch. indeed, is the nnavoid- able tendency of the hii-eling system in this age of mechanical improvement: for it leads directly to the heai>ing up of unduly large fortunes (for reasons to be shown) and the inflation of money-oligarchs, "making the rich richer and the poor poorer." But the Southern system, while not favorable to these dispro- portioned aggregations, opposed an effectual barrier to those mischievously small subdivisions of the land, to which the small holdings must inevitably run in a democracy. The drift of the sj'stem was to till the country chiefly (with a few exceptions like that of Washington of Mt. Vernon) with moderate holdings, from those ot the snug yejmanry with two or three bondsmen to the easy country gentleman with some hundreds of acres. The smallest were not too small to employ most of the profitable appliances; the largest were not so hirge as to be cumbersome. Xo economist disputes the extreme advantage of intelli- gence to producti3n, especially in these days of applied science. Now, the man addicted to daily toil cannot usually acquire the intelligence, or the knowledge of the sciences bearing on pro- duction, which is the customary possession of the master, whose labars are chiefly those of superintendence, and who, though a busy man, yet had time for reading. Thus the result of the Southern system was, that the best, the most advanced mind of the society had the full direction of the methods of the opera- tions. The "field hands'* and especially the "head men" were usually very skillful in their manual labor; capital practical "crop masters" for the ordinary crops, good judges of weather, of the proper tillage and harvesting of those crops, and handlers of teams. The landholders were in addition, men of reading, acquainted with every advance in machinery, applied science, chemical manures, the physiology of stock breeding ; and eager for every enlightened experiment in husbandry. 6. It is as true in political, as in household economy, that "saving is more than making." The growth of capital depends proximately on the saving. Of course, natural agents, pre-ex- FORMER LABOR SYSTEM! OF TKE SOUTHERN, U. S. 385 isriiij'' capital, and lalioi- iiiusr tirsr create the additional valnes. lint wliether tliey .shall be annihilated in nnproduction, con- sumption, or be added to the saved up and devoted to reproduc- tiA'e consumption, depends wholly on their being saved. Now, saving means self-denial. Self-denial means the mental and moral ability to appreciate a distant invisible future good: that namely, to be hereafter yielded by subsequent returns of the capital saved; more than a present visible one. The public con- ditions favorable for such saving are, of course, security of rights and possessions, and quiet and stability of governments. I>ut the personal conditions which stimulate them to save are, as plainly, intelligence, self-control, virtue and aspirations. The more animal and sensuous holder of newly acquired values will prefer the immediate and visible enjoyments they potentially contain. The more intellectual holder will prefer the invisi- ble, distant, but larger good they can yield, not once, but an- nually, as reproductive capital. The more selfish man will prefer at once to gratify himself: The more disinterested and virtuous man will tliiuk more of the good of his children and country. We hence expect, just what all history proves: that the most intelligent and elevated classes are always the most sav- ing, in proportion to their acquisitions. No one has argued this more powerfully, or illustrated it ruore profusely, than Mr. Mill. Political Econ. Bk. I. Ch. II. Hence, it is always more favorable to the steady growth of capital, that the successive years' earnings of the society be controlled and administered by the highest class. No kind of society ever attained this result so completely as the Southern. For, the owner as master not only disposed of the revenue of the estate, directed its wliole expenditure or investment; but as guardians of the laborer and their families, he and his wife administered the 3'ear's supply of food, clothing and comforts, for them all. Even had the master and mistress had no higher standard of forecast, ju-udence and administratiA'e skill than the a^'erage African, this would have still resulted in a great economy. Let us say that there wei-e seven laborers' families. There wa? a much greater saving of supplies and of labor and of time, in having tlie housekeeping of the wliole directed by one head, rather tlian having seven separate kitchens, each 386 FORMKK J.ABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERJ^f tJ. S with its streams of jjetty wastes, seven laundries, and seven varying managements: rlie major part of them recklessly waste- ful. Now add to this the executive and directing skill of the niosr inrelligenr. foreseeing and responsible couple of all on the planrarion irlie master and his wife) and the advantage be- c:)mes grand. Consequently, no cluster of seven laboring men's families in any country of the world got so much of matenal gofid and comforr out of the portion of revenue set apart for them, as the bondsmen on the plantation. Wastes were minimized; an enlightened system and econ- omy presided over all. This saving administration appeared especially at one [joint, when obsei-vers from hireling States perversely insisted on seeing the main evidence of Southern poverty. Xo business man nor economist would dare to dispute this proposition: That it is conducive to the putolic wealth to have values not only produced, or created, as economically as possible, but also ciiculated as economically as possible. For in fact, the labor of circulation, distribution, which is commercial industry, is also production. In transferring and dividing a value for the intending consumer, this industry has as truly created an in- crement of value in the commodity, as the manufacturer has, who turns a woolen fleece into a coat. Every agent of distribu- tion then, who really contributes an agency essential to circu- lation of ih(^ commodity, is a jjroducing agent. But he who has included himself into the circulation, where his agency really contributes nothing valuable to the process, is worse tlian a non-productive agent — he is a nuisance, grasping a wage for a service not needed, and eating up the values produced by honester men than himself. Thus in the change of a fleece into a useful coat, the industry of the spinner, the weaver, and the cloth dresser, was each useful, and created an item of additional value. But let us suppose that another fellow had intruded himself into the manufacture as second dyer, insisting on do- ing something to the color of the cloth, which was already per- fect, and charging his share of wages therefor; he would have been a mischievous consumer, instead of a productive agent. So every "'middleman'' in the operations of circulation of commodities, whose intervention is unnecessary, is an unpro- ductive consumer. His gains are his fellow-citizens' losses; and I^orMer labor system of the southern u. s. 387 liis iu-rivity and prosjx'i-iiy ai-p nuisances. Ju.st such nuisances tlie Southern system avoided, by the simple method of a do- mestic economy which distributed the products needed for sub- sistence among' the bondsmen, without any commercial appara- tus, or profit-charges. That useless middleman, the retail pro- vision merchant, was eliminated. The farmer who employed the adults of, say, seven families, reserved in his own granary out of the crop reared by the conjoined agency of his capital and supervision, and their labor, four hundred bushels of grain for their bread. These bi-eadstutt', when gr:)und by his order, were issued for the daily food of all the families, most prob- ably under the mistress" eye. Let us now suppose this farm conducted by hired labor, representing the working force of seven families. The proprietor has no use for these four hun- dred bushels of grain; he sells it at the wholesale price. But the laborers must eat; they buy the same grain from the grocery store, enhanced by the cost of two handlings and two trans- poriations, and also by the retail profit. The difference is that the proprietor does not get any more; and laborers pay much moTP foi their subsistence. The gross and shrewd fellow who has intruded liimself between proprietor and laborer, grasjjs a lar.^e profit, bur produces nothing. Yet the economists of hireling Srates have actually been blind enough to point to this contrast between their countries and th( htuth, as proofs of their thrift. Their rural regions are dotted over with large and pretentious "stores," where the coi-n. wool, butter, leather, and even soft-soap, which the labor- ers should have drawn directly from the employers, at whole- sale prices, are resold to them at high retail prices, to the ser- ious reduction of the avails of their labor, with no compensat- ing production for tlie ((nuuiunity in an}' shape. And this mischievous bustle is called i»rosperity! It would be exactly ]>arallel to argue that hireling labor was more gainful, because hireling societies had larger jails. 7. One more view remains, confirming and explaining the superior economical results of the Southern system: It is at once the most fundamental and the most grateful to tlu^ jthil- antliropic mind. Our system exerted a powerful influence against unproductive consumption of values, and in favor of productive consumption; by constraining the proprietor to ap- 888 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHKRN U. S. inoitriaf*- the largest sbaie 3f his annual revenue to his ser- vants' eomfortable subsisrence. and to suitable appliances for their productive employment during the next season. Every eeonomist knows the ditference: every mind of common sense ought tri kni\v it. For instance: Previous labor, with the aid of capital, has produced a half ton of coal. This may be used to form the neu- cleus of a great bonfire, at a political jolliflcaHon. It is so consumed as to be annihilated as a value, and that forever, leav- ing no production behind it. Or. it may be used to heat a charge in the furnace of a foundry, by which pig-iron worth one and one-half cents per pound, is converted into utensils, as tea- kettles, stoves, and iso forth,' worth five cents per pound. There is a creation here of new values in the pre-existing material represented by three and a half cents per pc)nnil. Now again, this coal is consumed: as truly as in the bonfire, and is no more anything but vapor and ashes. But its value reappears in the new values of the inn utensils, and that with increase. It needs no arguing, that unproductive consumption is destructive to all increment of capital: and thus to future production, by the means of that value; while productive consumption reproduces capital and enlarges it, thus providing for future production ever after. Let another fact be added, known to all economists: That the presence of capital is one of the most essential con- ditions fDr enlarging the demand for labor, thus tending to give employment to more human hands, and at better prices. A weak and indeed wicked attempt has been made to parry this view by arguing that the demand for luxuries by persons receiving large revenues, is favorable to the working classes: inasmuch as it makes a market for products, circulates money, and thus "encourages industry." Thirty years ago we refuted this doctrine, in an argument wliich has been several times jeered at, but never answered. The potent authority of Say sustained the truths at that earlv day. It is pleasant to find the same correct view now supported by ^lill and the current of recent economists. The outline of our argument is this: That since the consumption of luxuries is unproductive consumi)tion. notwithstanding a l»artial and temporary gain, in the form of wages, for the lux- ury produced: tlie ultimate result is the destruction of values. FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 889 the diniiuiition of capital, and thus, an inevitable restrictiau in the demand for labor in general, a decline in its wajies, and a scarcity of the staple values, which these pr3ducers of luxuries should have been creatinji, for the common j^ood. Just in the deji'ree there is luxurious expenditure at the upi)er end of the social ladder, there must be destitution and misery at the lower end, for want of employment, and of necessary articles of sub- sistence. This is confirmed by the facts in every luxurious so- ciety on earth. This consumption of luxuries does not eu- courajie, but misdirects industry. Now there is more tlian one way, in which the hireling system promotes luxurious and un- productive consumption, more than the Sauthem system did. It has a much stronger tendency to make the rich richer and the poor j)Oorer, to create excessive wealtli in a few hands. This at once enables and tempts the very rich to this waste of reve- nue, so adverse to the growth :)f capital and i>ros})edty of labor. TUit chietiy the hireling system r(^leases pi-()i)rietors from a wholesome and beneficent check, which the Southern system operated. To tlu^ capitalist who hires, the laborer is notliiug after the production is comjdeted. If he [jerislies. the employer is not concerned; he has lost notliing, he has only to step out into the teeming labor market, to fill the vacant place— sucli an employer then naturally feels more inclined to use spare revenue in pomps and indulgences. I'ut the S )uthern system made the labor of the African property, created an omnipotent motive in the master to pre*;erve not only its existen<-e. but its health and efficiency, and besides, appealed to his st^lf-respect. and to the domestic tie to reinforce this obligation. Hence, as soon as the annual revenue was ascertained, the ])ro]>rietor appro- priated, as a first charge upon it, so much as would subsist the Africans for another year, and this subsistence must come up to such a level as would not only preserve their lives, but their lu^alth and efficiency. Next, the ])roprietor must unavoidably set off so much, for an addition, or reparation to his working capital, as was necessary to provide the full means and appli- ances for the ensuing year's industrial operations. And as he knew that he was responsible for making that coming year a profitable one. and that the calamity of an unsuccessful one must strike him first and mainly: both interest and stern neces- sity forbade his stinting that appropriation. If worn or an- 390 FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. liquated tools and machinery needed to be replaced; if drainage and permanent fencinu weve called f^r; if the arrival of new laborers at adnlt age called for a larger area of land to be either cleared or purchased; all these must perforce form a prior charge on revenue. Xor until both these demands were met. and met without grudging, could one dollar of revenue be taken for superfluities. Tf n) surplus remained, the results were per- fectly simjilf-: ^fadame must just postpone the purchase of the new carriage or carpet. Mademoiselle must just do with- out the new pian:> another season. Young master must forego the blood saddle-horse, and even, in all ])robability put off the University; and go to teaching for a year, instead, so as to earn money to pay his own education. This picture is perfectly sustained by all who know the two sections by personal observation. I'artisans spoke of the South as ''the aristocratic section." But while her proprietoi^s sought solid comfort, kept a good table, chiefly from the re- sources of the mistresses' admirable skill, devotion and econ- omy, as housewives; and always practiced a liberal and social hospitality, men of equal wealth usually expended about one- ftftli of the sums wasted by their Xortheru equals, in equipage and luxuries. In one prosperous trading town of the Xorth you should find more palatial residences than in all the Southern continent from the Potomac to the Gulf. The good, solid, plain, old ancestral dwelling of the planter owning .flOO.OOO, would have been pulled away as rubbish by the New York man. who had gotten his |50.()(Ml. and was setting up liis home on Sixth (not to say Fifthi avenue. Two RichnioiHl merchants, in New York before the war, were taking the air in Fifth avenue. They ]»assed the new glittering palace of a parvenue manufacturer. After admiring its costly elegance, the younger pointed his friend to a smaller house in the rear, with brown-stone walls and plate glass windows, asking. ''Can you surmise. B., what that is?" B. could not. "Why. that is the owner's stable." "Then." exclaimed B., "I wonder if he would not let me be his horse?" Old ^Nlr. B.'s jest was perfectly so'ber; although he was, in descent, in integrity, in courtesy and in intelligence, truly a merchant prince; the dwelling which he inherited from a distinguished father, and in which he was then dispensing an elegant hospitality and rearing a cultivated family, had a much FORMER LABOR SYSTEM OF THE SOUTHERN U. S. 391 less pretentious exterior than the parvenue's stable. This con- trast was typical. It is easy for the economist to infer how promotive of solid progressive wealth that system must have been, which regu- larly laid its prior liens on revenue, in favor of the productive laborers and the producing capital, instead of luxuries and iciuipage. and the costly })omps of unproductive architecture. And it is easy for the heart of the philanthi-opist to decide which is the more pleasing aspect: that which treated the la- borers employed as mere tools of production, to be discarded when used; or that which ensured their having the prior lien on the profits of their own labor? MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, I). D. PEE FACE. The board of directors of Union Seminary, at their annual meeting- after the dearli of Dr. Sampson, determined that it was proper t3 present to the churches, his brethren, and former pu- pils, some memorial of his Christian and professional character. They requested me to prepare such a sketch; and the following sketch is the result. So far as a full and intimate acc^uaintance wirh his life, tirsr as a pupil, and rhen as a colleague, can (null- ify one for such a task, rhat (jualitication I possess. And if an ardent personal attachment unfits one to draw the character of its object impartially. I must confess to rliis disciualification. It is for those who knew Dr. Sampson as well as I did, to judge whether the jiortraiture is accurate. I can express no better wish towards all his brethren and former pupils, than that the reading of this humble tribute to their bst friend, may give them the same mournful delight, and the same elevating and purifying lessons, which its preparation has given me. It is now affectionately dedicated to the Alumni of Union Theologi- cal Seminary, to the candidates fjr the ministry, and to the Christian young men of the Synods of North Carolina and Vir- ginia. A life, spent, like Dr. Sampson's, far from the stormier scenes of the world, amidst scholastic shades, offers little ma- terial for narrative. I have, therefore, only attempted, after giving a brief outline of his uneventful life, to unfold the na- ture of his work and his character, and to indicate some of those lessons which they teach us. ROBERT L. DABNEY. Union Theological Seminary, \n. May 28th, 1855. INTRODUCTORY OUTLINE. Dr. Sampson was the son of Mr. Richard Sampson, an em- inent and respected agricultnrist in the neighborhood of the Dover Mills, in the county of (loochland. He ^Yas born between the 1st and otli of Xovember, A. D. 1814. In 1830, he was placed at the school, and in the faiuily of that man of God. ReA'. Thornton Rogers, of Albemarle, who was his maternal nncle. Here he made a profession of religion, was baptized, and be- came a member of the Presbyterian church in Charlottesville, then in charge of Rev. Francis Bowman, on the 13th of August, 1831. The 10th of September of the same year, he entered the UniA'ersity of Virginia, and continued his studies there till July, 183G, taking- a very extensive and thorough course of study, not only in the academic departments, but in the schools of junior law. auatouiy and pliysiology, and securing the degree of M. A. which was then, as now. attained by very few. November 9th. 183(). he entered Union Theolngical Seminary, Va. On the resig- nation i)f Professor Ballantine. in tlie s])ring of 1838, he was made teacher of Hebrew, and from that time continued to per- form other duties of the oriental department. He was licensed by East Hanover Presbytery in October, 1839, and ordained as an evangelist by the same Presbytery in October, 1841. In July, 1848, he took a journey to Europe, for the prosecution of his oriental studies, and returned in August, 1849, having spent the year chietly at the Univtn-sities of Halle and Berlin. lu October, 1848, he was elected professor of oriental literature and languages in the Seminary; but he had for many years per- formed the work of a full professor, though with the title and compensation of an assistant, and had long been esteemed as second to none of his colleagues in the value of his labors. About the time of his return from (lermany, he also received the honorary degree of D, D. from Hampden Sidney college. He fell asleep Sabbath, the 9th of April, 1854. only tliirty-nine years and five months old. Thus brief and uneventful is the record of his life, which was passed almost wholly in the quiet shades of colleges. But the results of this life have not therefore been uuimi)ortant. The atti^mpt will be made to draw the features of his character as a Cliristian and Christian minister, a scholar and an instruc- tor, in order that we may praise Cod for his grace manifested in him, and may receive the advantages of an example most modest, and vet illustrious. CHAPTER I. Person and Constitution. Dignity and Courtesj' of Manner. Early Habits and ^Maxims. Influence of Example in a Different Sphere Dr. 8ampsou was in pei-.suu light aud jjii-aceful, and of a florid complexion. Alrlioiio;!! liis family lias shown pulmonary tendencies in several of its members, and his own lungs were ultimately much impaired in their soundness, for the first thirty years.of his life he enjoyed, by virtue of great temperance, most uniform health, and endured an immense amount of severe study. After he reached that age, he was gradually broken down by several attacks of acute disease, and though his health gave a delusive promise of restoration the last year of his life. he finally fell bef jre a short and violent attack of pneumonia. His personal habits, as to diet, sleep and recreation, were simple, methodical and teniperate, without being ascetic. His dress was scrupulously neat and ai)propriate, without the faint- est approach to display. In his ai)proaches to his fellow men there was the happiest union of unaffected modesty and grace- ful quietude with Christian dignity. Yet his was a dignity which repelled no advances of affection or confidence, nor any- thing but impertinence. His friends who most desired to see him shine in society as his solid worth entitled him, sometimes accounted him too modest. Yet, with a modesty which almost amounted to difiidence, he w^as the farthest of all men from a Timid or truckling expression of his opinions. When an er- roneous sentiment which he conceived to be of any impoi'tance was thrust upon him in conversation, he most distinctly de- fended his own opinion, with a singnhir union of inflexible, even impracticable mental honesty and courteous deference. He was the last man in the world to be wheedled into the soft- ening of a truth down, or the admission of a faint shade of the error he had been opposing, by any of the blandishments of politeness, or by the fear of seeming too pertinacious. :Much of the singular amiability of his social character is no doubt to be attributed to the influence of grace. Had he grown u]. un- MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 395 convei'ted, lip would have been known as a man of hisli and determined temper, of energetic will, and persevering' activity. Divine grace softened what was violent, and refined what was valuable in this remperament, until the result was a rare and lovely union of the strong and the sweet. One of Dr. Ir^ampson's most striking and valuable natural traits was his methodical industi-y. To any one who knows his anoestrj', it is very plain that this (luality was received from them, both by inheritance and inculcation. That whatever is worth doing, is worth drting well; that each task must be done with one's might, in just so much rinu' as is needed to do it per- fectly, and no more; that no task is to be left till all is perfected which can be done to advantage; these were the rules of work- ing whicli he cari-ied with him fi-om the honu' of his boyhood to the school, the university, the study, the lecture room. The same thoroughness, the same deep ploughing, the same com- plete harrowing, the same utter extirpation of obstructions, the same perfect finish which characterized the farm of his father, prevailed in his scholarshijt and instructions. It would be hard to estimate how much of liis usefulness and ability was due to the example and habits thus impressed on his youth. And we cannot but admire the wisdom of Providence in training, on such a field and by agencies so unconscious of the divine purposes, a (pialily which was afterwards to do so much good in a higher and nobler sphere of duty. Dr. Sampson, the emi- nent hebraist, the profound expositor, the masterly instructor, was but the far-seeing, energetic, able farmer reproduced on another field of action. CHAPTER II. p]nters Rev. Thornton Ptogers' School. Reliaious Impressions. Decision. Personal Covenant. Diary. University of Virginia. Christian Activity there. Dr. White's Testimony. Goes to Union Theological Seminary. Zeal. Devotional Spirit. Humility. Liberality. We cannot proceed farther, without attempting to draw his (Mirisrian character. This was in several respects singular: but in most, singularly excellent. The neighborhood in which he grew u}). was very irregularly supplied with the preaching of 396 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. the Gospel, and was wholly unblessed with a sound pastoral influence. Consequentl3\ domestic religion and pious training were nearly unknown. From a brief diary which Dr. Sampsjn kept during- a i)art of the session of 1833-4, we Learn that when he went to the Rev. Mr. Rogers' school, he did not possess a Bible of his own, and had never read more than very limited portions of it in his life. His character was wholly irreligious; and he was given to all the light and corrupting amusements of fashionable young persons. But he tells us, that the only out- breaking vice in which he indulged, was profane swearing; and this he contracted at the age of twelve, from vexation in a game of whist, in which he had an unusually bad hand. With such a character, he found himself in a new world, in the well- ordered. Christian family of his uncle. There the word of God was daily read, and his name revtM-ently worshij)j»ed in the fam- ily. Although little personal exhortation was addressed to him concerning his sins ami impenitence, he saw daily illustrations of the excellence and peace of Christian principles, in the har- monious happiness of a pious house, where ^'brethren dwelt together in unity"; and above all, where the beauty of holiness shone from the example of the godly father, as he presided in the family and school room. In consequence chiefly of these silent teachings, he gradually f(dl into a state of profauud re- ligious concern, wliich continued about twelve months. His feelings were studiously concealed from all, rhrough fear of ridicule; and the love of sin led him to put forth many and bit- ter struggles against the Spirit. ]^>ut the God wlio loved him would not let him go; and liis convictions were from time to rime strengthened. In the spring of 1831, he chanced to hear a sermon from the Rev. Mr. Staunton, then of Prince Edward, from the text, ''Secret things belong unto the Lord thy G3d,'" which was the means of sweeping away all his objections and excuses. His convictions now became so pungent that they compelled him to an outward refoi'm of liis life, and to set about seeking a present Saviour in earnest. But the fear of reproach and love of sin still made desperate struggles. On one occasion, while several of his school fellows were engaged with him in a game of marbles, one of them sneeringly observed, "Frank must be getting pious. Do you notice, boys, that he has not been heard to swear for a fortnight?'' This taunt stung MEMOIRS Ot^ FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 'S^7 liim to rlic (jiiii-k; and to show that iie Avas not jiistlv liable to rheii' insinuation, he took the very tirst plausible occasion tj throw out a most pi-ofane oath! But this heaven-darinj^- act was made the crisis of his i-ebellion. For, his remorse, alarm of conscience, and fear of having grieved the Holy Spirit, together with his convictions of the corruption of his nature, and im- potence of his own resolutions for piety became immediately so agonizing, that he was compelled to retire, and cast himself at once upon the Saviour's mercy. From this hour, his soul seems to have been built upon the rock Christ Jesus; and his face w^as turned decisively lieavenward. He now first divulged his religious feelings to his uncle, in a letter which he handed him without seal or signature, and which detailed his struggles, his ignorance, his decision to be on the Lord's side, and his dawning peace. Mr. Rogers had often made his salvation the subject of his secret wrestling with God. But so complete had been the con- cealment of Dr. Sampson's convictions, that his uncle was at this very time almost in despair of his conversion. And though Dr. Sampson had ever been docile and industrious in everything else, so impressed was his uncle with the evil influence which his profanity might exert in his family, that he had seriously considered the best means of removing him. As he was the son of a beloved sister, he had seriously thought of disbanding his school for a time, as the least painful mode of securing this end. Indeed, he had only been deterred by intercessions of others, from carrying this purpose into effect. How- delightful, then, must have been the surprise with which he received this letter, telling him that the great work had gone on so far under ground? This curious incident may carry home two truths to us, ''That we should not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap if we faint not"; and that much of the seed of truth which we sow- is often lost, or smothered, for want of more constant and tender nursing. But Dr. Sampson was more the spiritual child of the Rev. Thornton Rogers, than of any other person. He has often said lliat the means which efficaciously awakened him out of death in trespasses and sins, was no^ so much any particular sernKui or warning, as the holy and consistent life of his uncle. This 398 MEMOIKS OF FRA:MCIS S. SAMPSOjST, t>. D was to liim the seniion. the rebuke, the 'iiving episrk^■■ whirh revealed to him his spiritual necessities. Xo man since the Apostle Paul could use more truthfully his language, "When it pleased (jod who separated me from my mother's womb, and called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me, immediately I conferred not with flesh and blood." Dr. Sampson was about to leave his uncle's roof, where alone he could expect to fiud any religious sympathy among his own friends, to return far a few weeks to his native neighborhood, in which every affectionate attention of his relatives would be a temptation, and where there were no sanctuary privileges nor Christian communings to help him on his way. Thence he was to go, in the early autumn, to the University of Virginia — an institution opened only six years before under infidel auspices, without prayers, chaplain, Bible class, Sabbath school — yea, we may say, without Sabbath; so that almost all godly parents kept their sons away from it with a pious dread; and vital religion was nearly unknown among its students. We have seen the strong and almost fatal hold which the fear of ridicule had on his natural heart. Yet, from the mo- ment his stand was taken, although but a youth of sixteen, fear was at an end. A courage more fixed than that of man, had taken possession of his breast. One of his first acts after con- fessing Christ, was ta prepare a written address to his school- mates, intended for the close of the session, in which he urges upon them the claims of Christianity. These were the same school mates, whose ridicule had a little before almost driven him to reject the Holy Ghost I In his address, he discusses the following causes, which induce irreligious men to postpone at- tention to the Grospel: "An unwarranted dependence on the general mercy of God; objections to the incomprehensible mys- teries contained in the Bible; and especially, the incomprehen- sibility of the doctrine of a Trinity; cavils against the number of sects into which Christians are divided, and their bickerings; and skeptical doubts of the truth of the Scriptures." These points are discussed, without striking originality indeed, but with a distinctness of thought, order and justice, most remark- able in a school boy: and the temper of the address is marked by a happy union of Christian boldness and affection. The same decision of religious character marked all his Memoirs oP PnAitct^ s. sAMp&oi^, D. b. 39^) Christiaii course. His religion was uow everyrliiug-. His JJible was almost his only couipanioii, aui3n<;- doc/ks. The fad that he learned so little of Christianity through the colored and somewhait distorted medium, in which it is presented b}- the prescriptive religious habits and expressions of even good peo- ple, but drew his religi:)us ideas direct from the Word of God, under the teachings of the Holy Spirit, may account for much of the excellence and symmetry of his religious character. In all his intercourse with relatives and as.sociates, in his amuse- ments and devotions, in everything, the desire to please God was ui)permost. There yet exists a correspondence of considerable bulk, ex- tending through the five years of his University course, and later, with two favorite female cousins. In these letters, the desire to benefit their souls and his own, is ever the prominent, almost the sole concern. The great topic is approached at once, without squeamish circumlocutions, but with atfectionate dig- nitA' and delicacy. His correspondents are continually reminded, that the chief aim and glory of a (.'hristian friendship should be, to give and receive edification, by the interchange of ex- periences and advice. He has no news or gossip to detail. Even from the first year of his Christian life, these letters show a depth of experience and a range and fullness of Christian knowledge, such as we would expect from a mature saint. From them and his brief diary, we learn with what punctuality and solemn diligence he engaged in the study of God's Word, search- ing his own heart, and secret prayer, as tlie first great business of each day. We learn he declined living with a room mate during his .second session, because his room mate the previous session, though amiable and moral, was unconverted; and his presence robbed him of his regular hours for secret devotion. In this exigency he was accustomed to resort to a wooded mountain hard by, for communion with God. And when, at the beginning of his third session, he received into his room a young gentle- man like-minded to himself, who afterwards 'became a most in- timate Christian friend, an arrangement was mad(- for retire- ment, as well as daily social prayer. From this friend we learn that when the hour of secret prayer found him languid and in- disposed to devotion, instead of making such a state a pretext 400 MEMOIRS or FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. t for tile postpoiHMiiciir of the dury. ho f'i»im(l in it a i»(»\v(M-fu] mo- tive foi' it>s iiioi-e (liligeut perfoi-iuaiice. Hovvevei- fatigued or overworked, he would take his Uible and read and meditate till lie could bnv his knees in the proper frame, saying that this languor and eolduess were the very evidences that he needed fervent prayer at that special time. The first of January, 1834, he held a solemn review of the l)ast year, and the state of his soul, and entered into a formal written covenant, to which his name is attached, engaging, with divine assistance, to live a life of entire devotion. The form of covenant is marked as a quotation. Although conceived very mucli in the terms of the one given in Doddridge's Rise and I'rogress, for the young Christian covenanting with God, it is not copied thence; and the source from which it was taken is not known. Perhaps it is enough to say that it is couched in terms of most devout and humble confession, ardent breath- ings after holiness, and adoring reverence of the divine perfec- tions. Though the subsequent diary shows that those alterna- tions of strength and weakness, joy and isorrow, were not wholly unknown to him, which are found in the experience of all em- inent saints, yet this era was no doubt a new starting point to his soul in its religious race. It is a characteristic fact that this diary, after having been punctually kept for several months, was discontinued. The ground assigned at its close was, that he began to suspect him- self of coloring the statements of his feelings, from an involun- tary reference to their being some day seen by others, and he feared that thus his Christian sincerity might be corrupted! Such holy diligence in prayer, such singleness of aim and such watchfulness, could not fail of their reward. He seems to have lived in the habitual exercise of religious joy; and often his soul mounted up with wings like eagles. It is believed that from his conversion to the day of his death, no serious cloud ever overshadowed his assurance. He lived continually under the peaceful light of a sure hope! How fully was the truth verified, in his Christian courage, consistency and intense ac- tivity for God, "The joy of the Lord is your strength?" His position as a pious student among two hundred and fifty thoughtless young men, gave ample occasion to illustrate his Christian decision. But yet, this quality was so admirably Memoirs of francis s. sampson, d. d. 401 tempered with modesty and kindness, that it secured, instead of enmity, almost universal respect. His manner was quiet, sim- ple, and unobtrusive. His religion was never thrust upon the notice of any one; but when any assault was made upon his principle.s, they were found immovable. He was oibliging to all, even to the profane, wherever the sacrifice of conscience was not asked for. So kindly and unpharisaic was his demeanor, that many, then entirely irreligious, became warmly attached to him, and his usual college name was "Neighbor Sampson." Yet, so sincere was the respect for his principles, a thoughtless and profane student was heard once to remark, "I canU swear before Neighbor vSampson"; adding that there was no other Christian student in the University to whom he would pay the tribute of such a self-restraint. It is doubted wlietlier a single raint, or one word disrespectful to his religion, was ever offered liim with malicious intent among all the hundreds of ungodly young men by whom he was surrounded. Let this be an effectual lesson to every young person, who shall read the character of this man of Grod, never more to be held in bondage by the fear of reproach or ridicule. An honest, (■hristian courage commands the involuntary homage of the worst. It is weakness and inconsistency which provoke the gibe and sneer. Dr. Sampson was not protected from them by any of those brilliant popular talents which dazzle the imagina- tion of young men; for his abilities were not then appreciated. He was regarded as a plain and unpretending joung man, whose conduct was spotlessly consistent, and whose Christian courage was unshakable. It was this which covered him, amidst the most heaven-daring sinners, with a shield of affectionate respect. The next trait of his Christian character to be noted, was: His strict conscientiousness. Never have we known a Christian who seemed more habitually to walk "As ever in his great task-master's eye." This conscientiousness was seen in the minutest pecuniary transactions, and in the scrupulous care with which he used tlie interests and i»r()i)erty of the Seminary, and of those who entrusted their concerns to him. That word of our Lord was to him a living precept, "He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much; and he that is unjust in I he least, is unjust also in much." 402 MEMOIRS OF Fi4ANClS S. SAMPSON, D. 0. Instances of liis scrupulousness might be mentioned, wliicli some might almost regard as showing a "morbid conscience." We can only say — Would to God that all his people were in- fected with the same disease. There was nothing morbid or exaggerated in his Christian character. On the CDntrarv, uni- formity and good sense were its peculiar traits. As instances of his conscientiousness, take the following: We find him determining that he cannot lend his notes of the professors" lectures (for he was a famous note taker) to fel- low students who studied them on the Sabbath. Although, in all other cases, unbounded in his kindness, where he had reason to believe that they would be so abused, he inflexibly exacted their return on Saturday. We find him, in every friendly letter, zealous to communicate some spiritual gift; and on his return from social visits, he frequently taxed himself vrith unfaithful- ness, because he had been satisfied with the innocence of his social enjoyments, and had not enough watched for openings to speak for Christ. On a visit to his beloved Christian relatives in Albemarle, he not only seeks to do good to his cousins, but seized an op- portunity to "go into the kitchen at his grand-father's and talk with old aunt Bett^-, the cook, about Christ, his righteousness and atonement, our weakness and dependence on him. and the glorious prospects of the Christian, and encourage her to can- stant prayer. She thanked me for my advice; and said she re- joiced in the Lord, and prayed that the Lord would make me happy and useful. She said she was so glad that I had come and talked with her about Chidst. How happy is it. to be with a Christian, whether white or black 1 How good is my Grod, who revealeth himself to the poor and the ignorant, that feel their need of himl While I talked with this kindred spirit, my own soul was quickened, and the tear of sympathy dropped down my cheek. The old woman cannot read. Lord bless her soul, and give her grace, knowledge and true religion, with all its comforts. Let thy blessing rest on all with whom I con- versed about Christ." A few lines further we read this : "Was detained by rain longer than I intended, rnile Thornton lent me a horse to ride l)ack. Conversed with the ser- vant who came with me. about the danger of his immortal soul; MEAfOiRS OF FRANCI8 S. SAMPSON, B. B. 403 endeavored to make plain to him the way of salvation, and showed him how reasonable it would be for God to cut him otT in his sins, before he could repent. Lord bless him wiili salva- tion." And this, reader, was not in the glow of a first love, noi- iu a season of religious excitement. He had been a professed <'hristian nearly three years. How many ministers of the gos- l>e] may feel rebuke from these examples of evangelical zeal in a young college student I In a like diligent spirit we tind him pert jrming each daily task, "as unto God and not man," regulating his diet with solemn Christian self-denial, because he found himself some- times indisposed, by partial excess, to prayer and meditation, and exerting his influence for good over his comrades by every means. In his walks for recreation, he met with a plain but respec- table countryman, seriously inclined, though not a believer; and this casual acquaintance was improved, to set on foot a Sabbath school in the mountains, and to seidc the salvation of the far- mer and his wife, by repeated visits, and careful instruction. When he had fully dedicated himself to the ministry-, and to the foreign missionary work, which, he then supposed, was to be his destination, he thrust aside obstacles to his great pur- pose, with a heroic self-denial, which can never be known, un- til the day which reveals the secrets of all hearts. In all the domestic relations of his subsequent life, in the duties of fam- ily devotions, in his functions as master and father, the inmate of his household could clearly jierceive that (Jod was continual- ly before his eyes. As an officer of the Seminary he was ever at his post, with conscientious diligence. No sickness, which! was not extreme, could detain him frjm liis class room; and the first day of his last, fatal illness, he attempted to rise and at- tend to his classes, and only desisted from his purpose when literally overpowered by weakness. The Christian reader will hardly need to be told, that such a. believer as is above portrayed, abounded in active exertions, and the labors of love for Christ and perishing souls. To ap- preciate the strength of this active principle in him, we must remember the modesty, ihe almost shrinking diffidence of his Christian character. A few instances of his zeal to do good 404 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. have already been mentioned. When he went to the University of Virginia, there was no chaplain, nor religious observance of any kind. Occasional public worship had been held perhaps, by transient ministers of distinction; and the sound religious sentiment which distinguishes the bulk of our people, was be- ginning to make itself felt among the governors of the institu- tion; so that they were not unwilling to pay the tribute of some outward religious observance to this public opinion. Soon after Dr. Sampson went there, the Kev. Mr. Hamet, a Metho- dist minister of great fluency, and popular rhetorical powers,, preached in Charlottesville; and the most thoughtless students were fascinated with his abilities. Advantage was taken of this, to introduce a permanent chaplain, and Mr. Hamet was the flrst who filled that office. The chaplain is usually selected by the facult}', with some conference with influential ministers of his own denomination, and is supported wholly by a voluntary subscription among the professors, students and other residents. He is chosen alternately from one of the four leading denomina- tions, Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal and Presbyterian; and served at first one, but now two years. Dr. Sampson was very active in supporting this new enterprise, and gave valuable aid to Mr. Hamet, though his short stay in that office ijromised no very valuable religious results. He was succeeded by men of a more evangelical type; and to them all Dr. Sampson was a right hand, during his stay at the University, whatever their denomination. He was also the most active agent in originat- ing the first Sabbath school in the University, and was its su- perintendent. We are assured by an eminent citizen, who was then a child in one of the families connected with the institu- tion, that he was taught in this Sabbath school by Dr. Sampson, and there received his first saving impressions. The first pri- vate prayer meeting among the pious students of the Univer- sity was equally indebted to his agency for its maintenance. It met every Sabbath evening; and we find in his short diary frequent references to his enjoyment of its Christian commun- ion, anid to his having addressed a word of exhortation to his brethren there. The following sentences, communicated by the Eev. Dr. White, who was pastor of the Cliarlottesville church from the MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 405 spring of 188G to 1848, happily express the position which Dr. Sampson then hekl there: ''My aeqnaintance with Dr. Sampson commenced in the spring of 183G. He was then jnst closing his course at the University of Virginia; and on the 4th of July of that year, lie took the degree of M. A, with great credit. The South Plains church then embraced the Presbyterians living in the Univer- sity and Charlottesville. There were not more than sixteen members living at these places. On my arrival, he called on me, and although very modest, yet convinced me in one short in- terview, that he was a youth of no ordinary talents and piety. He was then, I should suppose, about twenty years of age — be- tween twenty-one and twenty-two. He entered with great in- terest into conversation on the subject of religion; and had evi- dently thought and prayed much for the prosperity of Z'ion. He gave me more information respecting the condition of the church, and both said and did more to cheer me in the work I was about to undertake, than any one with whom I met. I well remember the first attempt I made to have evening service in the dirty and dilapidated church. When I reached the house, I found it was neither lighted nor unlocked. As I stood in front of the building with half a dozen others, none of whom seemed to know what to do in this great emergency, Sampson came up, accompanied by several of his fellow students from the Uni- A'ersity. I was on the point of abandoning the undertaking in despair, when he, with his accustomed quickness and energy, said, 'Don't go yet — Fll see what can be done.' He hurried away, and very soon returned with candles in one hand, and the means of lighting them in the other — entered the house by raising one of the windows, and soon had the church opened, lighted, and ready for service. I preached to Just one dozen hearers, and found no little help in doing so from the part he had acted. "Through his whole course at the University, he was as much distinguished for his firmness as for his modesty, and as eminent for his piety as for his scholarship and talents. My impression is, that he established the first Sabbath school ever raught, and the first prayer meeting ever held in the Univer- sity. I am sure he took a very active jjart in both these depart- ments of benevolent and Christian effort. 406 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S SAMPSON, D. D. "A few weeks before lie graduated, the lamented Professor Davis said to me, with a very sad expression of countenance, 'We are about to lose Sampson; and a sad loss it will be to the I'uiversity. With a modesty and reserve seldom, if ever, equal- ed, he combines a firmness of purpose, and an openness and en- ergy in seeking to check evil and do good, which have made him a great blessing to the whole insriturion. His influence over all classes of persons is astonishing. Has your church no more such young men to send to us? The University might well af- ford to furnish any number of such with their board and tuition gratis.' '•I have always believed that the course he pursued and rile influence he exerted contributed immensely to the great change which, from that time, began to take place in the re- ligious character of that institution. My connection with him there ceased after some two or three months. In a pleasant interview with him just before he left, he said to me, 'I must preach the Grospel. or die in the attempt.' He left in the state of mind indicated by this remark; and you know the rest." We cannot refrain from adding the closing paragraphs of I>r. White's remarks concerning him. though more confidential ill their tone, and not relating to the subject immediately before us. His words give a touching and truthful picture of the im- pression made by the lively Christian simplicity and modesty of his demeanor: ''He spent two ui- iliree days with me. and preached twice for me during the summer preceding his death. The impres- sion he made both upon my congregation and family, was of the most sfiiutary and pleasing kind. His meekness and gentleness, his freedom from all ostentation and reserve, won the confi- dence of the youngest member of my household. So much so, that for weeks and months afterwards, his visit was frequently mentioned at my fireside, as an event to be remembered witii mingled emotions Df pleasure and pain. With pleasure, because we enjoyed the privilege of entertaining him: and with pain, because we feared we should never enjoy this high privilege again. When this fear was realized by the announcement of his death, the deepest gloom passed over my family circle, and tears were shed that we should see his face no more." If every pious student and other young Christian were thus MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 407 (lilifieiit in di)iiig good, how different would be the aspect of our churches and colleges. What a new impression of the sol- euni reality and urgency' of the work of redemption would re- place in the minds of their thoughtless assiociates, that unreal and dreamy idea which they now entertain! At the Union Seminary, which Dr. Samps9n joined the fall after he left the University, his Christian activity was similar. Xo man was farther than he from that misplaced zeal, which aspires to do the work of an evangelist, while still a student, at the expense of a student's proper duties. In preparation for the class room, in punctual attention to the routine of his du- ties, in accurate scholarship, he was among the foremost. But to do good was one of the recreations of his leisure hours. Dur- ing a season of religious interest, which visited the College in the immediate neighborhood of the Seminary, he, with others, labored much in a modest way; and some of the subjects of that work, if ever they attain to that blessed world where we believe he now is, will have occasion to acknowledge their debt to his wisdom and love, to all eternity. As soon as he was licensed to preach the Grospel, by the Presbytery of East Hanover, he began to abound in evangelical labors, which, to his death, were increasingly acceptable to the churches. Besides the labors of his vacations, in his native county, and others at a distance from the Seminary, he preached statedly at different times, in the College and Farmville church- es, at Guinea in the county of Cumberland, Charlotte court- house. Walker's. Forest and Appomattox churches in the coun- ty of Prince Edward. Some of these labors were wholly gratui- tous. For a considerable period, his stated labors not being more urgently needed in any of the churches of convenient ac- cess, he preached regularly to a congregation of colored people, for no other reward than the pleasure of doing good. Another marked trait of his Christian character was the uniformity and healthfulness of his devotional spirit. While Ids private habits in this matter were covered with a sacred veil, which none dared to attempt to lift — drawn alike by the reverence and the modest^" of his spirit — his profiting was so outwardly evident to all, that no one could doubt his diligence in the closet. While his brief diary laments occasional spiritual declensions, there is reason to believe that he never knew what 408 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S, SAMPSON, D. D. it was to lose the assurance of hope; and that the flame of devo- tion burned in him with a glow unusually steady. In public, his prayers were eminently edifying to believers, marked by scriptural tone, humble sincerity, appropriateness and compre- hensiveness. But to know the sweetness of his spirit of prayer fully, one must have enjoyed the privilege of being an inmate of his house and frequenting his domestic altar. Family pray- ers were, in his house, no hurried, unmeaning form. The whole air and tone of the exercise showed deep sincerity and earnest- ness. After a daily catechising of children and servants, the reading of the Word of (iod, and a hymn of praise, he bowed his knees with a composed awe and seriousness, which seemed to communicate itself to all the circle. What deep sincerity, what discrimination and justice, what point, wliat fullness, what grave tenderness characterized those prayers, as he brought before the throne of grace his household — his children, his servants, his relatives, his brethren in Christ, the (Seminary, the church, and the whole interests of a perishing world! To those who were so happ3' as to be often present, it was not diffi- cult to believe that these services would leave their calm and holy savor upon the spirit, throughout all the toils and cares of the da3^, like ''the dew upon Heron, and as the dews that de- scended upon the mountains of Zion." His religious principles were strikingly illustrated also, by the manner in which he felt the call to the ministry. As has been already indicated, his definite purpose wa.s fixed, in this matter, during liis residence at the University. It was formed in the face of the strongest influences and the most brilliant allurements to more worldly and ambitious i)ursuits. H?. lias left on record the great benefit which he received in this respect, as well as in others, from the Biography of James Brainerd Taylor, edited by Dr. John H. Rice. The principles illustrated in the life of that devoted young Christian had a powerful influence in fixing his resolution to consecrate him- self to the work of preaching the Gospel. But this purpose be- gan to dawn in his soul from the very beginning of his Chris- tian life. On one occasion the writer asked him, what were the time and means for bringing the claims of the ministry home to his conscience. He answered, "There never was a time, in my Christian life, when I did not feel the claims of the ministry." MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 409 In reply to tlie question, how this was. he continued, ''I simply reasoned thus: I had given myself wholly up to God, to be used for his highest glory, and if he needed me most in the work of the ministry, as seemed every way prjbable, as a thing of course I was bound to be a minister." His settled purpose, during a large part of his University and Seminary C3urse, was, to prepare himself thoroughly for the work of a translator in some important foreign mission. He was led to this purpose by his success and accuracy as a lin- guist, and his humble estimate of his own talents, and his ca- pacities for public speaking. He seems to have thought that he was deficient in all those more brilliant gifts, which secure success in the pulpit; that his only talent was a patience, dili- gence and accuracy, which wauld make him a correct scholar, and that this humble talent he could best use for his master's glory, in the unobtrusive drudgery of rendering Grod's Word into the tongue of some I'agau people. With this object, he devoted himself most diligently to languages, drilled and cul- tivated his mind as thoroughly as possible in his preparatory course, and, in the Seminary, mastered as thoroughly as possi- ble the languages of the Scriptures. But his master thought not S3. When his Seminary course was but two-thirds done, he called him. by his Providence and the voice of his church, to a responsible work at home; and speedily rewarded his hum- ble fidelity, by giving him fame and influence in the pulpit, of which he had judged himself unworthy. Now, here is a lesson for those young Chnstians, who malce a lack of special capacity fjr speaking or of similar qualifica- tions, their pretext for declining the claims of the ministry. This servant of God had a sincere distrust of his own capacities; but with a heart consecrated with equal sincerity to his Saviour's service, he humbly ottered himself to the work, to do what he could, believing that God would accept him according to that which he had, and not according to that which he had not. Yea, and he was accepted; and not only used his scholastic accuracy fo;' the service of God in a high and honorable sphere, but be- came one of the most admired and impressive preachers of the land. Young Christian, if thy self-distrust is genuine, go thou and do likewise. But if it is feigned, remember that ''all things 410 MEMOIRS OF FRAIMCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D are naked and opened unto tlie eves of him with whom we have to do." Our portraiture wouhl be recognized bv all the friends of Dr. Sampson as incomplete, if we omitted those which were, to all. his most abvious traits: modesty and disinterestedness. One of his most faithful friends was accustomed to say of him, ''If Brother Sampson has a fault, it is that he is too modest." This virtue was impressed upon his social demeanor, upon all his acts of c )nscientious decision, and upon his deportment in all the courts of the church. There, he was usually a respectful listener, and a rare and brief speaker. When his sense of the importance of a measure called him out, his remarks were direct, lucid and weighty, and offered with an air which showed that he shrunk from occupying the time and attention of the body longer than was unavoidable. Self-display and self-seek- ing were ideas which none that knew" him associated with his name. Always estimating his own talents and knowledge be- low their real worth, he rather shrank from promotion than sought it. He waited for the call of his brethren and Provi- dence; and it is believed that there never existed a case, in which he consented to lift a finger, directly or indirectly, to. promote his own advancement, even by honorable means. Be- fore he became a student of divinity, he refused vei-y tiattering offers of literary employment, not inconsistent with clerical du- ties. And after he engaged in the service of the Seminary, and received the assurances of his brethren that they judged his labors essential to the cause of God in that institution, no in- conveniences in his post, and no advantages oft'ered from with- out, weighed a feather towards leaving it. During this time, several offers of employment, such as professorships, more lu- crative, and not unworthy of a Christian minister, were made to him. His answer always was, that God seemed to have work for him to do where he was; and as long as this wag so, he had no right to leave it for any increase of his personal comforts or emoluments. Meantime, those emoluments were so stinted for many years, in consequence of the financial embarrassments of rhe Seminary, as scarcely to aiTord the means of comfortable subsistence. Vp to his formal election to the professorship in which he died, while he performed the full duties of a ])rofessor in fact, and was acknowledged bv all to be second to no one in MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSO^f, D. D. 411 the value of liis labors, he received less tliau two-tliii'ds of the eiiiolunu'iits belongiug to the office of a professor iu this insti- tmidii. Thi.s cantiiiued for ten years — years of activity, aud growing reputation and usefulness — second to none of the years of his life. When he left his post temporarily, to improve his knowledge and health in Europe, the directors of the Seminary continued ta him this inadequate salarv during his absence — feeling that his tour was, in fact, in the service of the Sem- inary, and that this was no more than a just reparation for the unavoidable scantiness of his previous compensation. Bint even this he declined to retain, and refunded it to the Seminary after his return, in annual installments. So that the last year of his life may be said to be the anly one in which he received the full salary which he had all along deserved. Yet in re- funding this sum, he considered himself as repaying a debt, and not conferring a gift. .V very few years before his death he came into possession of a part of his ample patrimony, and then his benefactions in- creased with his ability. His donations to the Seminary and to other institutions of public interest, were bestowed with a generous hand. His conscientiousness in the use of wealth, might well be imitated by many other Christians. Whether his circumstances were scanty or affluent, he was simple in his tastes, unostenta- tious in his person, and economical from principle. In accord- ance with the general system of all his habits, he kept an exact account of all expenditures — a thing which is, indeed, a neces- sary foundation for the proper practice both of Christian lib- erality and Christian economy. He was economical only in or- der to have the means to be liberal. His Christian hospitality was overflowing; and it was truly the hospitality of a Chris- tian minister, designed not for its own display, but for the be- stowal of comfort on others. To every good cause he gave, al- ways with the heart, and when his means became ample, with the hand of a prince. It was one of the secrets which his Chris- tian modesty never revealed, that he kept a strict account be- tween himself and God, in which all sources of income were stated with scrupulous exactness, and a fixed and liberal por- tion of the sum was set apart to almsgiving; and this account was balanced with as much regularity as his bank book. Mean- 412 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D time, lie was not .without the pretext, which many professors of religion find for stinting their liberalii y, in the chiims of a grow- ing family. CHAPTER III. Dr. Sarupson as a Student. Wise and Resolute Plan. Thoroughness. Intense Application. His Scholarship— Its Range and Accuracj'. The third general topir i»roi)o.sed to the reader, will be the habits of .study and SL-holarship of Dr. Sampson. A brief state- ment of his methodical and thorough system of study has al- ready been made. It may perhaps be said with truth, that the only i>eculiar indication of talent, which the beginning of his scholastic life gave, was the wise and resolute i)lan of study which he set before himself, and pursued from the first, with all the determination of his character. For surely, such wise determination is a talent — it is a trait of mental and moral greatness — and one rare and invaluable in a stripling of six- teen. He seems to have begun his collegiate course with a fixed reference to the greatest ultimate benefit. While he was a most punctual and laborious student, exact in all collegiate duties, allowing himself, for years, ouIa^ six hours in bed. and but a scanty season for recreation, he did not fall into the temptation which overthrows so many at the University of Vir- ginia. This is the ambition to run rapidly over the course, by an extraordinary and spasmodic exertion, and thereby to excite admiration, and to pass speedily into the duties of actiA'e life. Dr. Sampson's course, on the contrary, was long and deliberate, covering five years. Many distinguished citizens, who were his fellow students, state that he was at first only known as "an excellent student," of good sense and accurate habits; but that with every session, the appreciation of his abilities and learning increased. He seems to have practiced, from the first, the wis- dom so rare in youth, of leaving nothing behind unmastered, of never weakening the accuracy' of his faculties and perceptions by half prepared tasks, and half understood views. His schol- arship was matured and digested, as he progressed. And this character was found eminently in all his subsequent acquisi- MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON", D. t>. 413 tions. It has been said tliat, as a Seminary stndent, lie showed equal diligence and method. As a professor, his diligence was great, and his toil in study excessive, until Increasing infirmi- ties compelled him to relax his labors. It is well remembered by some of his pupils, that once, when taking a class over the Epistle to the Hebrews, which he had gone over more than once before, he spent, on an average, thirty hours of active study on each lesson, in additional preparation. But alas! here the in- tensity of his zeal reached its crisis. This was the last year of his firm, unbroken health; and henceforth, "while the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak." If all our young ministry was inspired with such zeal, how glorious would be the result? Perhaps the number might be increased by those who, like our lamented brother, would have to say of themselves, "The zeal of thy house hath consumed me," and whose premature loss the church would bemoan just as their harvest of usefulness was beginning. But would not this spirit endue the ministry of reconciliation with an influ- ence, a w^eight, a might, a glory, which would be cheaply pur- chased, even at so precious a cost? A costly price hath our Zion paid for this example, which she now otfers to her young ministers, to teach them what is the diligence they should exer- cise! May God forbid that it should be lost on them. Happy is that man who falls at the high noon of his career, and on the spring tide of his success, at his post of duty; but happier is he who can so temper a burning activity with a holy prudence, and so avoid both a corroding sluggishness and a rash over exer- tion, as to rise brightly to the meridian of his powers, and then decline gently towards their serene evening, and thus to bless the church both with his earlier strength and his riper ex- perience. By such system and diligence. Dr. Sampson became one of the best educated men of our country. In all the departments of letters he was able, above the average. His knowledge of systematic theology was profound and extensive. Of church history he retained a knowledge far superior to that which most young ministers bring to their ordination, although his deparr- ment called him away from these studies; and he was accus- tomed to complain that his memory was treacherous with re- gard to those of its stores which he had no opportunity to re- 414 MEiNfoiRS ol" FkAKcis s. SAidPsoif, 0. t>. view. His mastery of Latin and Greek, and of most of the po^ lite languages of modern Europe, would have abundantly quali- fied him for the highest posts of instruction in America. T'o' say that it was such as becomes a well educated minister, would be utterly inadequate to the truth. But his ripest acquirements were in the Hebrew literature and the exposition of the Scrip- ture. Here, as is well known, he was pre-eminent for tliDrough- ness, accuracy and philosophical arrangement. While there may be many who possess an equal familiarity with these de- partments of learning, it may be safely asserted that, as a Jeach- 6r of Hebrew, there was not his superior on our continent. CHAPTER IV. Characteristics as a Teacher. Tact. Yivacitj-. Earnestness. Patience Intercourse with Pupils. Hebrew Prelections. This naturally suggests another subject of remark — his character as an instructor. In his practical skill as a teacher, was his peculiar value to the church of our day; for as a mas- ter of the art of communicating knowledge, he was, in our view, unrivaled. It was not that his lectures presented those grand sajings which electrify for the moment, nor that any one of his efforts produced on the pupil an impress of pre-eminent tal- ent— but there was just the combination of that justness of mind, steady animation, thorough knowledge, patience and tact, which gave the highest skill in teaching, both as it is a trade and as it is a science. He was equal to its profoundest researches. He shunned none of its most irksome drudgeries. One of the foundation stones of his success was his owti indis- putable scholarship. No man ever passed through one of his classes without a profound and admiring conviction of this. Another was in his unfailing animation and vivacity of mind, which was so keen, even on subjects usually esteemed dry, as to seem unaccountable to many. The exertion of voice and body which he unconsciously employed, when thoroughly warmed to his work, was often the subject of playful remark between him and his colleagues. This animation communicat- ed itself to his pupils — sa that usually their highest diligence w-as exerted in his department, though it was one not most at- MEMotRS Oi" FRANCiS S. SAMPSON, D. t. 415 tractive to all miuds. But to this result another quality, which is invaluable to the teacher, also contributed. This was the energy of his own will, which pressed on towards the objects of his exertion with an impetus which swept all along with it, and communicated its own life to the most sluggish. In every act of his in the class room, there was expressed the idea of work; and all who frequented it soon felt instinctively that it was not the place for loitering. It might be said that his watchword was thoroughness. With an admirable patience, he expounded his subject so as to make it luminous to the weak- est eye; and if his questions revealed the fact that there was still some one who did not fully comprehend, he would resume his explanation, and repeat in varied forms, till his ideas were thoroughly mastered. Out of this habit, and the propensity of his mind to thorough work, probably grew that which might have been considered his prominent fault as an instructor. His explanations sometimes degenerated into excessive amplifica- tion, which became wearisome to those who had given him a moderate degree of attention from the beginning; and he thus unduly protracted his prelections. His intercourse with his pupils was marked by a happy union of modest dignit}^, which repelled improper encroach- ments, and cordial, ingenuous kindness, which conciliated con- fidence. In his presence, each one felt that there was a sim- plicity and candor which set the stamp of reality on every kind attention. It is believed that there is not one of his pupils who did not feel for him not only respect, but warm affection; and many can join in the sad words of one who remarked, when speaking of his death, "Well, I never expect to meet with an- other minister of the Gospel, whom I shall love and revere as I did that man." Often it was a subject of wonder to his col- leagues, how so much affection could be retained fram those towards whom he exercised so much fidelity in admonishing. The distinctive traits of his expository instructions may perhaps be described as justice of thought, neatness, and im- partiality of mind. He believed the plenary inspiration of the Scriptures. His soul loved their spiritual truths; and often in the lecture room he soared away from the dry dissection ot words and propositions, into regions of devout meditation, and made his class forget for the time the exercises of the head, in tlie nobler exercises of the heart. 416 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON', D. D. It was in his Hebrew prelections tiiat his mental excel lence shone most distinctly. He had applied the broadest prin- ciples of etymology to the elements of this language, in a man- ner original and philosophical; and had thus reduced them to an 3rder which, so far as we know, is not equaled by any pub- lished grammar. His lectures unfolded the Hebrew etymology with a lucid order, beauty and simplicity, which could not fail to delight every intelligent learner. Indeed, if we may be per- mitted to introduce our own judgment, after frequenting the halls of three separate institutions of learning, and sitting under some of the most gifted and learned men wh > have appeared on this side of the Atlantic, Dr. Sampson's lectures on the Hebrew language, and some other departments, seem to us the most philosophical, the most complete, ihe best teaching ro which we ever listened. None who attended his prelections on the canon of Scripture (of which there remains a brief specimen in his "University Lecture") will forget the masterly nature of the ar- gument there constructed. It is one not servilely copied or com- piled from previous writers, but constructed on his own plan. He has there built, upon a foundation of adamant, a structure whose ribs of steel are knit together with the strength of mathe- matical demonstration. Xo part is wanting, and every part is in its exact i)hue. It stands totve teres et rotundus, impen- etrable everywhere to refutation. Alas I that there remain no permanent records of most of these invaluable instructions, except in the scanty and scat- tered notes of his p.ipils. In his later years. Dr. Sampson re- gretted often that he had not found time to fix upon paper more of his course of instruction. But such was his unambitious and self-sacrificing spirit, that he always yielded to the urgent de- mands of the present, and preferred the thorough performance of his duties to his classes, to the gathering of those fruits of his researches, which would have promoted the fame of his au- thorship. He said, that if he became an author, he must be a less diligent teacher. There was not time to be, thoroughly, both at once. And he preferred rather to leave his record writ- ten on the minds and hearts of the rising ministry of our Syn- ods, where it might be fruitful in the enlightening of souls, than in volumes which would hand down his name to future ages. But besides this, he was cut down just when the fruits of his MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 41^ arduous studies were coming to their rich maturity. Had he lived to old age, he might have gathered some of them into books, for the benefit of a wider and more remote circle. CHAPTER V. Dr. Sampson as a Preacher. Simplicity of Style. Logical Arrange- ment. Elevation of Thouglit. Steadily advancing Reputation. Les- son of Encouragement to young Pivines. The reader will almost be able to surmise, from what has now been said, the character of his preaching. It exhibited al- ways the lucid order, and the animation of mind which marked everything w'hich he produced. His best sermons rose to a grade of excellence which is seldom displayed in any part of the church. And it was an excellence which was most appre- ciated by the most Cultivated and mature minds. Whilst there were other preachers, who would be more sought after by the masses, he was preferred by the men of thought and acquire- ment. His plans of discussion were marked by a just and com- prehensive view, which showed both the profound theologian, and the ripe biblical scholar, who had drunk deep into the spirit of the Word of. God. His propositions were usually stated with singular accuracy and beauty of language; but it was a beauty rather logical than theoretical, rather chaste than florid. In deed, his whole method of discussion wore an appearance of directness, too severe to admit of any license of ornament. Yet, in the judgment of all those who are capable of appreciating a felicitous purity and aptness of language, and thoughts of vig- orous symmetry, many passages in his sermons rose to the high- est grade of eloquence, coupled as they were with his genuine fervor and fire. His preaching was rich in matter, and emin- ently scriptural, such as is best fitted to feed the spiritual mind. It was alwaj's remarkable for its elegance and elevation, which were never tarnished by anything coarse in allusion, ludicrous in association, or bungling in structure. But it was, the least of all men's, a finical elegance. It was rather that of an ener- getic and lofty simplicity. That men of strictly scholastic training and pursuits should excel in the particular work of 418 MEM0IE8 OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D, B. ii.e pulpit, is rather the exception; but he was certainly one of the most brilliant of these exceptions. Hy the intelligent public his preaching was even as highly esteemed as his professional labors were by intelligent students. This fact is dwelt on. because it contains most instructive encouragement to all beginners in the pulpit work. When Dr. Sampson first began to preach, he was far from being an easy or impressive speaker. His first attempts had little to eouir mend them, except that excellence of composition which was the unavoidable result of his thorough training and good mind. He labored under a constraint and embarrassment, painful to himself and his hearers. His voice was not modulated, and his gesture was scant and unformed. But every effort showed im- provement; and a few years of diligent exertion placed him in the front rank of impressive, pungent and fervent pulpit ora- tors. His voice became resonant and musical; his action digni- fied and energetic. Such an example should effectually remove the discourage- ments of those who suppose they are deficient in pulpit gifts; and it should teach all to feel their responsibility to set up for themselves a high standard of excellence, and to be satist-^n] with no dull mediocrity in sacred oratory. Provided they have good sense and diligence, let them not persuade themselves that the road is closed up to them, which leads to the higher grades of excellence in this art. The things by w^hich Dr. Samp- son was enabled so thoroughly to overcome his original de- fects, were undoubtedly these: First, there was his superior scholarship, which gave him mental furniture, and supplied the best material ujj'on which to build a style. Had he not been a superior scholar, had his mind not been thoroughly drilled and invigorated by its inner training, his early manner would never have been improved into one so eminently good. Next, should be mentioned the modesty, humility and ingen- uousness of his Christian character. He learned to preach well, because he aimed to preach not himself, but Jesus Christ. Those words of our Saviour proved strictly true, in their ap- plication to his understanding of the art of expressing reli- gious truth: ''If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light." His eye was single. His prevailing purpose was to show forth the way of life: and his triste was not perverted. MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 4lj) nor his manner poisoned, by the itchings of conceit, or the am- bition for display. And, in the tliird place, he was diligent. Not only did he preach much, "in season and out of season," but he preached with careful and laborious preparation. And where there is a natural substratum of good sense, unfettered by any physical defect, these means will usually be sufficient to overcome an}' amount of incipient difficulties or failures, and to make an}- man, if not an orator of the first rank, an impres- sive and pleasing speaker. CHAPTER VI. Intellectual Traits. Grcnius and Talent. Symmetry. Analytic Faculty. Imagiuatiou. Memory. Candid Estimate of his Powors. It is in the life and acts of a man that the faculties and traits of his mind make themselves known to others. Conse- quently, the preceding exhibition of Dr. Sampson's character as a scholar, teacher and preacher, is also a portraiture, in some sense, of his intellect. No more is necess'ary, therefore, than to sum up the whole with a few general remarks. Dr. Sampson could not be called a genius. He was what is far better — a man of high talent. His mind presented nothing that was sa- lient or astonishing. But this was not so much because there was not power, as because it was power S3'mmetrically develop- ed. His was just one of those excellent minds, which grow most, and longest, by good cultivation. In wide and adven- turous range, his speculative powers were not equal to those of some other men; but in power of correct analysis, in sound- ness of judgment and logical perspicacity, he was superior to all we have ever known, except a very few. Indeed, when a ■speculative subject was fully spread out before his mind for consideration, his conclusions seemed to be guided by a pene- tration and justness of thought almost infallible. This con- sideration was deliberate; and his decision was very rarely ex- pressed with haste, or even with promptitude. Hence his writ- ings and conversation never exhibited an}- of that paradox, or that bold novelty and dangerous originality, which are too of- ten mistaken for greatness. His talents, if they had less to 420 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S SAMPSON, t). t>. awaken an empty ai^touishment and admiration, were far safer, more reliable and more useful. It was bard for anytbing so- phistical or unsatisfactory to escape detection undei' bis steady gaze. He was particularly free from tbat common fault of many minds of large grasp: tbe adopting of major propositions so large tbat tbey will contain tbe conclusion wliicb tbe reasou- er desires to derive from tbem; but at tbe same time so sbadowy that they contain be knows not bow much more. In bis powers of arrangement, he was undoubtedly super- ior to any man we have ever known. In bis mind, tbe elements of thought seemed to group themselves always, and spontan- eously, into tbe most philosophical order possible, with a regu- larity like tbat of tbe atoms of limpid water, when tbey crystal- lize into transparent ice. The efforts of Dr. Sampson's imagination were rather of tbat kind which Mr. Macaulay describes in Sir James Macin- tosh. Tbey consisted not so much in the original grouping of elements into new, but lifelike forms, as in selecting appro- priate forms already shaped out, from the stores of a well fur- nished memory. In those severer exercises of tbe imagina- tion, which are required in mathematical thought and in the bodying forth of scientific conceptions, this faculty was em^- inently distinct and vigorous. But in its more poetic exercises it was limited. His power of calling up tbat species of illus- tration which is flowing and graceful, was scanty; and while the operations of bis faculties, especially in lecturing and preacJing, were unusually fervent, it was rather, so far as it was not spiritual, tbe dry beat, if we may so term it, of intel- lectual animation, than tbe glow of genial fancies. And yet, there were a few occasions on which he showed a high measure of tbe graphic or pictorial power; which might indicate tbat this faculty was rather disused by him than lacking in him. Another of bis mental peculiarities has been already hinted: bis almost impracticable honesty. He could never be induced to accept a proposition unless it wholly commended itself to his mind as true. His memory was most retentive, for all thingis which were arranged in it by any logical association; but for things sole, or merely verbal, it was sometimes treacherous. Upon tbe whole, considering tbe admirable justness and perspicacity of bis mind, its vigor and accuracy in analysis, its MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 421 wonderful capacity for pMIosophieal arrangement, and the eu- ei-ftv of its purposes, he might have been truthfully called a man of great powers. The symmetry of those powers, his mod- esty in their display, the very accuracy of thought which re- pressed all those paradoxical brilliancies that catch the ad- miration of the crowd, forbid that he should be promptly ap- preciated. Hence his proper grade will probably only be as- s>igned him by those who, like the writer, had opportunities to contemplate his mental powers deliberately. But it is his de- liberate judgment — a judgment formed maturely, in advance o'l that warm personal attachment which he will ever esteem (Hie of the chief blessings and honors of his life, that Dr. Samp- son, for his particular work, possessed capacities unsurpassed b\ an}^ man which our countr^^ has produced, and equaled b^^ very few. Happy would it have been for our churches if they had fully known his worth. CHAPTER VII. Failure of Health. Fluctuations of Disease. Flattering Hopes. In- creased Piligence. Dr. Sampson's last Sermon. Final Attack. Con- cern of the whole Community. Prayer in Presbytery. Dying Exer- cises. In the early spring of 1840, Dr. Sampson's ill health began with a terrible pleurisy; which was immediately provoked by fatigue and exposure in preaching the Grospel, but doubtless owed its more remote origin to the prostration of vital energy, produced by the intense appMcation we have described above. After imminently threatening his life, this disease was sub- dued, but it did not leave him with a sound constitution. He seemed to be nearly re-established: and especially, on his re- turn from Europe, his appearance of health and vivacity al- layed all the fears of his friends. P>ut not long after, he ex perienced another irreparable shock, in a severe nervous fever which overtook him on a journey. This loft liim with a nervous system and liver painfully deranged, and some threatening in- dications of pulmonary disease. Fro'm this time forth, he sel- dom knew what it was to enjoy comfortable strength. His most 422 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. distressing symptoms were a feverish excitability of pulse, sleeplessness, and occasional attacks of biliary derangement, which prostrated his muscular system for the time. But dur- ing his last session, his health, cheerfulness and hopefulness seemed to revive; and there was again a flattering promise of re established strength and a long life. The returning prosper- ity of the beloved Seminary, the renewed and substantial as- surances of interest and affection on the part of the churches and ministry, and the steps taken towards filling the vacancies in its faculty and dividing. his responsibilities, seemed to be cordials to his mind and body. His enjoyment of the innoceul blessings of life and its domestic affections, was intense, and liis hold upon it was strong. During this flattering season, he seemed to be conscien- liously husbanding his strength, and employing all the means for preserving health. Once or twice he referred to the repeat- ed and grievous blows, which a mysterious Providence had in- flicted on the Seminary in the death of its most useful ser- vants, and pleasantly said to his colleagues, ''It is our duty to live just as long as we can, in order that the institution may have time to root itself." But alas! another blast was nearer than any of us feared, which shook its still unsettled strength, nor less grievously than any which has burst upon it, since that which smote down its great founder in the flower of his strength and success. Xor did Dr. Sampson seem to be without antici- pations of its ai)proach. While he said nothing directly, and seemed rather ta avoid any allusions to the previous symptoms, threatening his health, as a painful subject, yet the thoughf seemed to be ever treading close after his eager footsteps, and spurring him to greater diligence, "The night cometh, when no man can work." Mpre than once, when others expostulated with him for taxing himself be^'ond his strength, either by the fervency of his preaching, or the vigor with which he pushed thrDugh his Seminary duties, he answered, "Perhaps I have but a few days or weeks more in which to do my task. I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day." And even so, the summons came, to him not unawares, but to us "like a thunderbolt from a cloudless sky." Sunday, the second of April, the venerable pastor being absent, he preached in the college church, from Prov. xi, 18. "The wicked MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS S. SAMPSON, D. D. 423 worketh a deieitful work; but to him that soweth i'inr his true good. "He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him uj) for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things." (Kom. 8: 32.) And this love has enlisted for his safe- guard, all the attributes of God, which are the security of his own blessedness. Why dwelleth the divine mind in ineffable, perpetual peace? Not because there are none to assail it; but 442 TRUE COURAGE. because God is conscious in liiniself of intinire ivsonrces, for de- fense and vii-lory; of a knowledge wliicli uj cnnninj;- can de- ceivt'; of a })i)wer which no combination can fatigue. Wel'l, these same attributes, whicli support the stability of Jehovah's throne, surround the weakest child of G-od, with all the zeal of redeeming love. "The eternal God is his refuge; and under- neath liim are the everlasting arms.'' (Dent. 33: 27.) Thei'e- f )re s:iirh the Apostle, that the believer hath "his heart and mind garri-;oned by rhe peace of God which passeth all under- standing." (Phil. 4: T.I And therefore our Saviour saitli, with a literal (-mphasis of which our faint hearts are slow to take in the full glory: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you." (dolin 14: 27.) In i)roportion as God's children have faith ro embrace the love of hysical ne- cessity in the series of causes and effects themsehes; a neces- sity as blind and unreasoning as the tendency of rhe stone towards the earth, when unsu}t})orted from beneath; a neces sity as much controlling the intelligence and will (tf God as of creatures; a necessity which admits no modification of i-esults through the agency of second causes, but renders them inojtera- tive and non-essential, save as the mere, passive stepping stones in rhe inevitable progression. The doctrine of a Providence teaches that the regular, natural agency of second causes is sustained, preserved, and regulated by the power and intelli- gence of God; and that in and through that agency, every event is directed by his most wise and holy will, according to his plan, and the laws of nature which he has ordained. Fatalism tend^' to apathy, r o absolute inaction: a belief in- the })rovidence of the J^criptures, ro inrelligenr and hopeful effort. It does not over- throw, but rather establish the agency of second causes, be- cause it teaches us that God's purpose to effectuate events only through them (save in the case of miracles) is as steadfast, as TRUE COURAGE. 443 his pnri)oso to vixvvy i»iit liis ekn-ual idan. Hence it produces a conibiiiatiou of coiiraj^eoiis serenity. — with cheerful (lili«j;ence in the use of means. My illustrious leader was as laborious as he was trustful; and laborious precisely because he was trust ful. Every thing that self-sacrificing care, and prepai'ation, and forecast, and toil, could do, tj prepare and to earn success, hi; did. .Vnd therefore it was, that G^od, without whom "the watch- man waketli but in vain," usually bestowed success. So like wise, his belief in the superintendence of the Almighty was a most strong and living conviction. In every order, or dispatch, anmnincing a victary, he was })rom])t to ascribe tlie result to the Lord of Hosts; and those simple, emphatic, devout ascrip- tions were with him no unmeaning formalities. In the very tlusli of triumph, he has been known to seize the junctui'e for the earnest inculcation of this trutli upon the minds of his sub- ordinates. On the momentous morning of Friday, June 27th, 1802, as the different corps of the patriot army were moving to their respective posts, to fill their parts in the mighty combina- tion of their chief, after Jackson had held his final interview with him, and resumed his march for his position at ('old Har 1)our, his conrmand was misled, by a misconception of his guides, and seemed about to mingle with, and confuse, another part of our forces. ^lore than an hour :)f seemingly ]»recious time was expended in rectifying this mistake; while the boom- ing of cannon in the front told us that the struggle had begun, and made our breasts thrill with an agony of suspenst\ lest the irreparable hour should be lost by our delay; f;)r we had still many miles to march. When this anxious fear was suggested privately to Jackson, he answered, with a calm and assured countenance: "Xo; let us trust that the providence of our God will ;so overrule it, that no mischief shall result." And verily; no mischief did result. Pijvidence brought us precisely into conjunction with the bodies with which we were to co-operate; the battle was joined at rlie rigiit juncturt^ and by the lime the stars appeared, the right wing of the enemy, with which he was ap})ointed to deal, was hurled in utter rout, across the river, ^lore than once, when sear to bring one of his )ld fighting bri- gades into action, I had noticed him sitting motionless ujion his horse with his right hand uplifted, while the war worn column poured in stern silence close by his side. At first it did not ap- 444 TKUE COURAGE ponr whether it was mere abstraction of t]i(>ii,u]it. or a posture to relieve his fatioue. But at Port Kepublic, I saw it again; and watchinji liim more narrowl3-, was convinced bj his closed I'vcs and moving lips, that he was wrestling in silent prayer. I thought that I could surmise what was then passing through his fervent soul; the sovereignty- of that Providence which worketh all things after the counsel of his own will, and giveth the battle not to the strong, nor the race to the swift: his own fearful responsibility, and need of that counsel and sound wis dom, which God alone can give; the crisis of his 'beloved coun- try, and the balance trembling between defeat and victory; the precious lives of his veteram?, which the inexorable neces- sities of war compelled him to jeopardize; the immortal souls passing to their account, perhaps unprepared; the widowhood and or-phanage which might result from the orders he had just been compelled to issue. And as his beloved men swept by him ro the front, into the storm of shot, doubtless his great heart, as tender as it was resolute, yearned over them in unutterable longings and intercessions, that "the Almighty would cover them with his feathers, and that his truth might be their shield and buckler." Surely the moral grandeur of this scene was akin to that, when Moses stood upon the Mount of God, and lifted up his hands, while Israel prevailed against Amalek! And what soldier would not desire to have the .shield of such prayers, un- der which to fight? Were they not a more powerful element of success than the artillery, or the bayonets of the Stonewall Brigade? III. The true fear of God ensures the safety of the im*- mortal soul. I'nited to Christ by faith, adopted into the un- changing favor of God, and heir of an inheritance in the skies which is as secure as the throne of God, the believing soul, is lifted above the i-each of bodily dangers. But the soul is the true man, the true self, the part which alone feels or knows, desires or fears, sorrows or rejoices, and which lives forever. It is its fate which is irrevocable. If it be lost, all is lost; and finally lost; if it be secure, all other losses are secondary, yea, in comparison, trivial. To the child of God, the rage of ene- mies, mortal weapons, and pestilence are impotent. True, he has no assurance that they may not reach his (body, but they reach his body only, and, TRUJ3 COtTRAGE. 445 ''If the plague come nigh, And sweep the wicked down to hell, T'will raise the saints on high." This is our Saviour's argument, "Be not afraid of Ihem that kill the bod}-; and after that have no more that they can do" Pagan fable perhaps intended to foreshadow this gl'orious truth, when it deserdbed its hero with a body made invuhierable by its bath in tlie divine river, and therefore insensible to fear, and indifferent to the weapons of death. But the spiritual real- ity of the allegory is found only in the Christian, who has wash- ed his soul from the stain 'of sin (which alone causes its death), in the Redeemer's blood. He is the invulnerable man. "The arrow cannot make him fiee; darts are counted as stubble; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear." He shares, indeed the natural affections and instincts which make life sweet to every man, and bodily pain and death formidable. But these emo- tions of his sensuous being are counteracted by his faith, which gives to hisis'oul a substantial, inward sense of heavenly life, as more real and satisfying than the carnal. The clearer the faith of the Christian, the more complete is this victory over natural fears. To the mere unbeliever, this mortal life is his all-in-all, Ibodily death is utter extinction, pain is the master evil, and the grave is covered by a horror of great darkness unrelieved by one ray of hope or light. And Christians of a weaker type, in their weaker moments, cannot shake off the shuddering of nature in the presence of these, the supreme evils of the na- tural man. But as faith brightens, that tremor is quieted; the more substantial the grasp of faith on eternal realities, the more does the giant death dwindle in his proportions, the less niiortal does his sword appear, the narrower and more trivial seems the gap which he makes between this life and the higher; because that 'better life is brought nearer to the apprehension of the soul. Does the eagle lament to see the wolf ravage its de- serted nest, as it betakes itself to its destined skies, and nerves its young pinions and fires its eyes in the beam of the king of day? The believer knows also, that should his body be smit- ten into the grave, the resurrection day will repair all I lie ravages of the sword, and restore the poor tenement to his oc- cupany, "fashioned like unto Chi-ist's glorious body." He can ado[»t the boast of inspiration : "God is our refuge and strength; 446 TteTJE COURAGE a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be car- ried into the midst of the sea." (Ps. 40: 1, 2.) Amidst the storm of barrle. and even the wreck of defeat, liis steadfast heart knows no fear. But that the enemy of God should have courage in bat/ tie, is incomprehensible to rae. It can only be explain(Hl by thoughtlessness. When the danger whirli assails the body reaches the soul also, when the weapon that lays the body in the dust, will plunge the soul into everlasting and int3lerable torments, by what philosophy can a reasoning being brace himself to meet it? He who has not Ood for his friend, has no right to be brave. But we should be far from inferring thence, that the citizen who is conscious 3f his enmity to (lod. is there- fore justified in shunning the ex]iosure to this risk, at the ex- pense of duty and honor. This would be but to add sin to sin. and folly to folly. If safety is not found in the p;irh of duty, still nure surely it will not be found, when out of it. He is in the greatest danger, who is disobeying God; and infinite wis- dom and power can never be at a loss for means to strike their enemy, however far removed wounds and weapons of war may be. To refuse a recognized duty is the surest way to alienate the mercy of (iod. and t3 grieve that Holy Ghost, on whom we depend for faith and repentance. The only safe or rational course therefore, for the ungodly soldier, is to make his peace with God at once; and thus advance with well-grounded confi- dence in the path of liis duty, and of all men. the s )ldier has the strongest reasons to become a Christian! Such was the foundation of the courage of Jackson. He walked with God. in conscions integrity; and he embraced with all his heart "the righteousness of God which is by the faith if Jesus Christ." His soul. I believe, dwelt habitually in the full assurance that God was his God. and his portion forever. His manly and vigorous faith brought heaven so near, that death had slight terrors for him. While it would be unjust to charge him with rashness in exposure to danger, yet whenever his sense of duty prompted it. he seemed to risk his person with an absolute indifference to fear. The sense of his responsibili- ties to his country, and the heat of his mighty spirit in the crisis of battle, might sometimes agitate him vehemently; but TRUE COURAGE. 44'^ never was the most inmiinent personal peril seen to disturb his equanimity for one moment. Ir is a striking trait of rhe im- pression which he has made upon his countrymen, that while no man could possibly ^be farther from boasting, it always be- came the first article of the belief of those subject to his com- mand, that he was. of course, a man of perfect courage. But courage alone does not explain the position which he held in the hearts of his people. In this land of heroic mem- ories and brave men, others besides Jackson have displayed true courage, (rod did nor endow liim with several of those native gifts which are supposed to allure the idolatry of man- kind towards their heroes. He affected no kingly mien nor martial pomp; but always bore himself witli the modest pro- priety of the Christian. Xor did he ever study ar practice those arts, by which a Bonaparte or an Alexander kindled the enthu siasm of their followers. The only manifestation which he ever made of himself was in the simple and diligent performance of the duties of his office. His part on the battle-field was usually rather suggestive of the zeal and industry of the faithful ser- vant, than of the contagious exaltation of a master-spirit. Na- ture had not given to him even the corporeal gift of the trum- pet tones, with which other leaders are said to have roused the divine phrensy in their followers. It was only at times that his modest and feeble voice was lifted up to his hosts; and then, as he shouted his favorite call: 'Tress forward," the fiery energy of his will, thrilled through his rapid utterance, rather like the deadly clang of the rifie, than the sonorous peal of the clarion. His was a master-spirit; but it was too simply grand to study dramatic sensations. It impressed its might upon the .souls of his countrymen, not through deportment, but through deeds. Its discourses were toilsome marches and bat- tles joined, its perorations were the thunder-claps of defeat hurled upon the enemies of his country. It revealed itself to us only through the purity and force of his action; and therefore the intensity of the effect he has produced. This may help to explain the enigma of his reimtation. How is it that this man. of all others least accustomed to exer- cise his own fancy, or addi-ess that of others, has stimulated the imagination, not only of his countrymen, but of the civilized world, above all the sons of genius among us? Hjw has he. 448 TRtJE COtJKAGE. the most unromantic of great men, become the hero of a liAnng romance, the ideal of an inflamed fancy in every mind, even before his life had passed into history! How did that calm eye kindle the fire of so passionate a love and admiration in lln- heart of his people? He was brave, bnt not the only brave. He revealed transcendant military talent; bnt the diadem of his country now glows with a galaxy of such talent. He was successful; but we have more than one captain, whose banner never trailed before an enemy. I will tell you the solution, ll was, chiefly, the singleness, purity, and elevation of his alms. Every one who observed him was as thoroughly convinced of his unselfish devotion to duty as of his courage; as certain that no thought of personal advancement, of ambition or applause, ever for one instant divided the homage of his heart witli his great cause, and that ''all the ends he aimed at were his coun- try's, his Grod's, and truth's," as that he w'as brave. The love of his countrymen is the spontaneous testimony of the common conscience, to the beaut}' of holiness. It is the confession of our nature that the virtue of the Sacred Scriptures, which is a virtue purer and loftier than that of philosophy, is the true greatness, grandei- than knowledge, talent, courage, or success. Here, then, as I believe, is God's chief lesson in his life and death (and the belief encourages auspicious hopes concerning God's designs towards us.) He would teach us the beauty and power of pure Christianity, as an element of our social life, of our national career. Therefore he took an exemplar of Chris- tian sincerity, as near perfection as the infirmities of our na- ture would permit, formed and trained in an honorable retire- ment; he set it in the furnace of trial, at an hour when great events and dangers had awakened the popular heart to most intense action; he illustrated it with that species of distimc- tion which above all others, attracts the popular gaze, military glorj^; and held it uj) to the admiring inspection of a countr}' grateful for the deliverances it had wrought for us. Thus he has taught us, how good a thing his fear is. He has made all men see and acknowledge that, in this man, his Christianity was the fountain head of the virtues and talents, which they so rapturously applauded; that it was the fear of God which made him so fearless of all else; that it was the love of God wliicli animated his energies; that it was the singleness of his aim^s Memoirs of fbancis s. Sampson, d. d. 449 which caused his wliah^ body to be so full of light, that the unerriug decisions of his judgment, suggested to the unrhink- ing, tlie belief in his actual inspiration; and that the lofty cliiv- ahy of his nature was but the reflex of the Spirit of Christ. Do not even the profane admit this explanation of his cliaracter? Here then, is God's lesson, in this life, to these Confederate States: "It is righteousness that exalteth." Hear it ye young men, ye soldiers, ye magistrates, ye law-givers; that 'iie that exaltcth himself shall be abased; but he tliat humbleth him- self shall be exalted.'' But what would he teach us by his death, to our view so untimely*^ To this question, human reason can only answer, that God's judgments are far above us, and past our finding out. One lovely Sabbath, riding alone with me to a religious service in a camp, General Jacksan was talking of the general prospects of the war, hopefully, as he ever did. But at the close, he assumed an air of intense seriousness, and said: "I do not mean to convey the impression that I have not as much to live for as any man, and that life is not as sweet. But I do not de- s'ire t3 survive the independence of my country." Can this death be the answer to that wish".' Can the solution be, that having tried us. and found us unworthy of such a deliverer, God ha.s hid liis favorite in tlie grave, in the brightness of his hopes, and before his blooming honors received any blight from disaster, from the calamities which aur sins are about to bring upon us'.' ^ay; we will not believe that the legacy of Jack- son's prayers was all expended by us, when he died; they wi>ll yet avail for us all the more, that they are now sealed by his blood. The deliverance of the Jews did not end with the un- timely end of Judas Maccabee. The death of William of Orange was not the death of the Dutch Republic. The lamented fall :)f John Hampden was not the fall of the liberties of England. And. if we may reverently associate another instance with these, the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, was, contrary' to the fears of his disciples, but the beginning of the sect of the Xazarenes. So, let us hope, the tree of our liberties will flourish but the more for the precious blood by which it is watered. May it not be, that God, after enabling him to render all the service which was essential to our deliverance, and showing us in him, the brightest example of the glory of Christianity, 450 tRtE COURAGE. ■has bid him enter iuto the joy of his Lord, at this juncture, in order to warn us against :)ur incipient idohitry, and make us say: "It is better to trust in the Lord, than to put coutideiice in princes?" No man would more strongly deprecate this idol- atry of human instruments, than Jackson, and never so strong- ly, as when addressed to himself. None can declare more em- phatically than would he, if he spoke to us from the skies, that while man is mortal, the cause is immortal. Away then, with unmanly discouragements, God lives, though our hero is dead. That he should have toiled so hard for the independence of his country, and so ardently desired it; and tlien at last, be for- bidden to hail the day of our final deliverance, or to receive the grateful honors which his fellow-citizens were preparing for liim; this has saddened every heart with a pang both tender and pungent. The medicine to this pain, my 'brethren, is to re- member, that he has entered into a triumph and i)eace, so much more glorious than that which he bled to achieve for his coun- try. It would have been sweet to us, to hail him returning from his last victory to a delivered and enfranchised country; sweet to see and sympathize with the joy with which he hung up his sword, and psiid the sacrifices of thanksgiving in the courts of the Lord's house; sweet to witness, with reverent respect, the domestic bliss of the home for which he so much sighed, solac- ing him for his long fatigues. That happiness we have lost; bu t/i£ has lost nothing. He has laid down his sword at the footstool of his Father God; he now sings his thanksgiving song in a nobler sanctuary than the earthly one he loved so much; he "bathes his weary soul in seas of heavenly rest." We who loved him, while we bewail our own loss, should not forget the circumstances which alleviate the grief of his death. Surely, it was no ill-chosen time for God to call him io his rest, when his powers were in their undimmed prime, and his military glory at its zenith; when his greatest victory had just been won; and the last sounds of earth which reached him were the thanksgivings and blessings of a nation in raptures for his achievements; in tears for his sufferings. I love to remem- ber, too, that his martyr-life had just been gladdened by the gratification of tliose affections which were in him so sweet and strong, and wliich yet, he sacrificed, so patiently, for his coun- try. TRUE COURAGE. 461 Still more do we tliauk God that it was practicable, as it might not have been at an earlier, or a later period, for him to enjoy those ministrations of love, in his last days, which were the dearest solace of his sufferings. Into the sacredness of those last communings, and of the grief which survives them in his widowed home, we may not allow even our thoughts to intrude. And yet, may not a mourning nation venture to utter their blessing on the mourning heart which blessed him w^th its love; and to pray, that the breast which so magnanimously calmed its tumult, to make a quiet pillow for the dying head of their hero, may be visited 'by Grod, with the most healing balm of heavenly consolation? Will not all the people say: amen? Xor will they forget the tender tiower, sole off-shoot of the parent stock, born to bloom amidst the wintry storms of war, which he would fain have forbidden the summer breeze to visit too roughly. The giant tree which would have shielded it with pride so loving, lies prone 'before the blast. But His God will be its God; and as long as the most rugged breast of his hardy comrades is warm, it will not lack for a parent's tenderness. And now, with one more lesson, I leave you to the teach- ings of the mighty dead. If there was one trait which was eminent in him above the rest, it was determination. This was the power, before whose steady and ardent heat obstacles melt- ed away. This was the force, which caused his battalions to breast the onset of the enemy like ramparts of stone, or else launched them irresistibly upon their shivered lines. It was his unconquerable will, and purpose never to submit or yield. Ev- ery one who was near him imbibed something of this spirit, for they saw that in him the acceptance of defeat was an im- possibility. To that conclusion no earthly power could bend his iron will. Let this example commend to us the same stead- fast temper. In his fall and that of the noble army of martyrs, every generous soul sliould read a new argument for defending the cause for wliicli lie died, with invincible tenacity. Surely their very blood might cry out against us from the ground, if we permitted the soil, whicli drank the precious libation to be polluted with the despot's foot! Shall it ever be, that our dis- couragement or cowardice shall make the sacrifice vain? If we cx>iisent to this, then was it not treacherous in us to invite it? 452 TRUE COURAGE. We should rather liave warned them to restrain their generos- ity, to save the lives they were so ready to lay upau their coun- try's altar, as too precious to be wasted for a land occupied by predestined slaves and cowards, and to carry their patriotism and their gifts to some more propitious clime, and some wor- thier companionship. Such are the thoughts which should inspire the heart of every one who stands beside tlie grave of Jackson. Around that green and swelling hill stands the circle of solemn mountain peaks keeping everlasting watch over the home which he loved and the tomb where his ashes sleep, majestic when the summer sunset bathes them in azure and gold, but only more grandly steadfast, when they are black with storms and winter. So. let us resolve, we will guard the honor and the rights for which he died, in the hour of triumph, and more immoveably in the hour of disaster. MEMORIAL OF LIEUTENANT COLONEL |OHN T. THORNTON, OF THE THIRD \TRGL\LA CAVALRY, C. S. A. Amidst tlie great company of Christian heroes whom Vir- ••inia has saeriticed for the independence of the Confederate States, few names, next to her Jackson's, shine more brightly than that of Lieut. Col. John T. Thornton, of Prince Edward, Vi\. The son of Mr. Wm. Thornton, of Cumberland county, he inherited from his father an honorable name, a vigorous under- standing, and an ample estate. After the most careful literary training, he adojjted the profession of law, and chose the town of FarmA'ille for his residence. Fram the very beginning, his high honor and qualifications secured him the respect of his fellow-cirizens; and he stepped into a busy practice, in which he was fast winning the highest grade of distinction. Here the present war found him, although still a young man, diligently engaged in his profession, the pride, the trusted counsellor, and chosen servant, of his county, and surrounded with all the do- mestic bliss which an elegant home, and an engaging family cimld confer. Tliis happiness he was peculiarly fitted to enjoy. l>ut although a liberal supporter, and habitual attendant, of the offices of religion, he was not yet a Christian: this crown was lacking to his character. Mr. Thornton was in temper a conservative; and accord- ingly, in politics he was no extremist. Of the convention which dissolved the connection of Virginia with the Federal Union, he was chosen a member. There, and in tlie primary meetings of the peoi)le, his cliaste and masculine eloquence was frequent- ly heard, advocating, on the one hand, all the conciliation and forbearance towards our assailants consistent with honor and righteousness, and on the other, the most detei'uiined assertion of our essential rights. After witnessing the scornful rejection 453 454 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. of all the overtures our uiagnanimous Commonwealth made for the sake of peace, he heartily concurred in the act which made her independent of the betraver.s of the Constitution; and when the convention adjourned, he immediately returned home, and accepted the command of a company of horse, composed of his friends and neijihhors. This troop was embodied in the 3rd Virginia Cavalry. Although at first a novice in militaiy af- fairs, he rapidly became a w^ell-instructed and efficient officer, while his courage, fortitude, and impartiality, made him the idol of his men. As the first year of the war appraached its end, all the volunteer regiments were reorganized; when he was chosen Lieutenant Colonel. Concerning this i)romotion he thus writes to his wife: "In the reorganization of tliis regiment, I was chosen Lieu- tenant Colonel. This promotion was unexpected; but I shall accept it, and endeavor with all my powers to discharge its duties. I pray God to give me the requisite skill and courage for this i)Osition, that T may so bear myself in it. as to do good service to my country." This place he filled with eminent success, and like a g03d soldier, ''bore the heat and burden of the day." His former as- sociates remarked with wonder, that he seemed formed by na^ ture for a soldier; that although reared in elegance, and devoted hitherto almost exclusively to literary ])ursuits, he seemed to sleep anywhere, eat anything, and to endure any hardship, with- out inconvenience. He a])])eared thus, only because his manly spirit refused to complain of his trials; while in truth, both body and mind were suffering acutely under them. Througli- out the bloody campaign of 1802. he was always at his post. In the expedition into Maryland, he was in command of the 3rd Regiment, then a part of General Fitzhugli Lee's Cavalry Bri- gade. In the comibat of Boonsboro'. when this brigade covered the retreat of the Confederate Army against the whole host of McClellan, the light of that clear autumn sun was turned into darkness by the smoke and battle dust. Down that famed causeway, as terrible as the jaws of hell, swept by cannon shot and shells, and by clouds of sharpshooters on the frant, and right, and left, Colonel Thornton led his regiment again and again, in impetuous charges; until the purpose of the comman- der-in-chief was secured, in bringing off his artillery and trains. A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T THORNTON. 455 In this fiery ordeal, tliougli his horse was killed under him, he escaped unscathed. But on the bloodj- morning of Sharps^burg, as he was bringing his regiment into position to protect the left of the army, his punctilious obedience to orders led him to ex- l)Ose himself during a few minutes' halt, to a battery of the enemy; and almost the first shot which opened the fearful drama of the day, gave him a fatal wound. It exploded beside him, and one fragment tore his saddle to pieces, inflicting an irreparable shock on his body, while another crushed his arm almost from the hand to the shoulder. His frightened horse was arrested b}' his men, he sunk fainting into their arms, and was carried to a little farm house near the field. There, the surgeons endeavored ta save his life by amputating his man- gled limb; but in vain. After lingering for twelve hours insen- sible or delirious, he fell asleep. His friends were aware that since he entered the service, his religious character had undergone a revolution. God, "whose thoughts are not as our thoughts," had employed the solemnities of this dreadful war, together with the death of two beloved brothers, to mature the convictions, which the sanc- tuary, and the pure Christian example that blessed his home, had implanted, but could not perfect. Numerous passages from his letters illustrate the birtli and growth of his remarkable religious character. Among the sad remains which were brought along with his corpse, to his widow, were a few of his prayers, written a'midst the confusion of the bivouac, on bits of paper, and folded into his pocket-Bible. These precious relics of his piety I am per- mitted to copy; and the i)urpose of this introductory narrative is to present them to his jiersnnal friends, to his comrades in arms, and to the soldiers of our ]>atriotic and suffering army, as his own solemn testimony to the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ. In them, "he being dead, yet speaketh." The object is to permit him to speak chiefly for himself: no attempt is made to do more than place the necessary links of connection be- tween the pieces which unfold his religious emotions. This brief partraiture cannot be made without a ])artial disclosure of those dearer affections, which Colonel Thornton's sensitive honor was wont to cover jealousl\' in the sanctity, of his owti heart and home. But no brave man will be capable of reading 4.")6 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOnX T. TnORXTON". it with auy other than eniotious of reverent sympathy. Xor will any such fail to recognize, in the spirit which has yielded these sacred mementoes to the inspection of his brothers-in- arms, the same self-consecration, and preference of duty over feelin.u. w liirli iii;i:l(' liini the Thristiau hero. It has only been done because of the belief, that, could the soul of the departed speak from that blest abode, where it is now. as we humbly trust, solaced for its pains, it would proujunce the commending of Christ to its fellows a dearer object than any earthly tie. In the opinion of all who have been permitted to read them, these prayers are peculiarly excellent. They show a maturity of Christian feelings, a propriety in the selection jf tojjics and hmguage, a tenderness, fervency, and humility, remarkable in one who was so young in the faith. It is hoped that they will furnish to many a young disciple a pattern for his breathings after the Saviour, and to many a Christian husband and father in the army, a vehicle for transmitting to heaven his yearnings for "loved 9nes at home." The reader's attention is especially called to the powerful awakening of the sense of parental responsibility in Colonel Thornton's bosom, as soon as he became a Christian. His most cherished desire f jr life. was. that he might return and aid his beloved wife in guiding the steps of his sons heavenward. It is noteworthy also, how frequently his servants are included in these Christian aftections. He rarely forgets to send them his kindly salutations. He feels his obligations, as their master, to their souls, and prays for their temporal and eternal welfare. C3lonel Thornton, a large slaveholder, the son of a large plan- ter, reared near his father's servants, was the fairest type of that character, as developed under Southern institutions. The affectionate relations existing between liiiii aiul his servants, and the bending of such a mind and heart to their good, are the clearest proofs of the wickedness of those who are shed- ding so niui li li]()3d to destroy these ties. Another purpose of this little tract is. to show the world, in this specimen amoug a thousand of our Christian patriots, how high and holy are the principles which nerve their arms in tliis war. There is here, no lust of power, notoriety, or wealth; n j unsanctified revenge: but the resolve of the virtuous soul, sadly, yet firmly accepting the mournful alternative of resistance, rather than recreancy A MEMORIAL OF LTEUT. COL JOHN T. THORNTON. 457 to flniy. The oneiiiit's of our eouiitiy, liowevoi* they niiiy con- teiiiii mi- luatei-ial stivnjitti, may well treuible at the s'uilt of the wlioU'sale inurders they perpetrate to crush this riji'hteous sjnrit of defeuse. It is the spirit of God's Word; it is sustained aud prompted, in its noiblest instances, by his Holy Ghost. Do they not see that, although God may chastise our ingratitude and irreligion towards him, by using their wicked hands as the instruments of correction, they are fighting against him, And their murders will yet be avenged in calamities so dire, that both rhe ears of them that hear shall tingle? But it is time to proceed directly to the narrative of Tolonel Thornton's religious life. His brief expressions of feeling must be weighed by the reader with this fact: that his character was always marked iby a strong abhorrence of meaningless profes- sians. He seems to have been, at the beginning of the war. not a stranger to praj'er; but the death of two brothers in rapid sue cession, one of whom, a citizen of Texas, coming to ^^irginia with the soldiers of that State, only reached Riclvmond to die, profoundly deepened his religiaus emotions. October 18tli, 18G1, he writes from 'Camp Bethel, on the Peninsula: "T feel sometimes very sad and .solitary in this long ab sence from you. The death of S**** stunned by its suddenness and unexpecredness. I am left alone of all my brothers in tliis Confederacy. * * * j would draw closer to your side than ever bef3re. ''It is hard to bear my griefs alone; but I pray that I may see clearly in these bereavements, the hand of a wise and mer- ciful God. I try to believe that 'He doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men'; that 'though he cause grief, yet will He have compassion according to the muUitudeof His ten- der mercies.' But my skei)ticism is sometimes ])ainful. and it looks as th'jugh heaven were covered with a cloud through which my i)rayers could not pass." The next extract which we make, may illustrate the ha- bitual temper of his mind as to the issue of the war before him: '^S/x O'clock P. M. "Camp in Lee's Field, April DM, 1862. "We have now a large army in this Peninsula. Our men are in fine spirits, and I look with confidence to the God of bat- tles, i'd give us the victory. I pray he may be my shield in the 4r)tS A MEMOKIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN" T. THOKNTON. liaiir of conflict. I liaA'e much to make life sweet to me. * * * Let us implore liiirublv and earnestly the Father of mercies, who lia.s showered so many blessings on us, that he will guide us through the i»erils of the dark hours of war, to the sunny, bright days of peace." June 1st, 1862. he writes, making a definite avowal of his hope in Christ, and purpose to live a new life. After a tribute to the Christian fidelity of her to whom the letter is addressed, tender and glowing, he thus proceeds: "This service in the army has not been without its bene- fits, and as I trust, great, lasting, and eternal benefits, to me. The busy, bustling life, that I had led ever since I left college, until I left home for the war, gave me but little time for calm, serious, sober thought on my past history and future life. In tile ((uicr of the outpost, in the stillness of the camp at night, in the weary, solitary journeys to visit the chain of sentinels. I find ample time for refiection. With no books to read, with no busi- ness cares to engross or distract my attention, my mind has turned back upon myself, and often has the path I have trod been traveled over again by me. Thoughts of you * * *' restrained me from those vulgar vices of the camp, drinking and card-playing. Thoughts of you * * *, kept back my tongue from profanity, and then thoughts of the words you had spoken and written ta me * » *, and thoughts of the goodness of God, and of my sins, and of my need as a sinner, led me to seek salvation through the mercy of God, and the atonement of Jesus. I trust * * *, that I truly believe, and shall prove faithful to the end, and be an inheritor of the promises "If I am spared to return home, I trust that you and I * * * will live through long years, to serve our Heavenly Father who has been so kind to us, if such be his holy will. But and honor and praise thee. Bless the children thou hast given to us. Aid us to train them up in thy knowledge and in thy fear, and to make them thy servants, pure, holy, and obedient. "For my servants. Oh Lord God! I pray. Teach me how to act as their master, and instruct them how to discharge their duties as servants. Fill their hearts with love for thee; teach them to shun all evil, to live purely and uprightly, and finally save them with an eternal salvation. A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL JOHN T. THORNTON. 450 "Info fhy hands of love and morcy T trnstinoly commit my- self. Oil Lt)i'd (rod Alimip;lity. If it be in accordance with thy wise and ^vvat purposes, I beseech thee, bear me safely through all the perils of this war. Carry me back to my wife and home and children; and make me faithful to thee, walking- in thy statutes, observing thy coniimandments, and honoring thee in all pnreness and holiness of living. But if. Oh Lord! according to thy righteous decree, I am to fall by the hands of the enemy, or to die from any cause, then I implore thee. Heavenly Father, receive my soul, and take me to heaven to dwell forever in the light of thy holiness. ''If I have asked. Oh Lord, any tiling wrong, I pray thee, forgive the evil thought, and blot out the wicked petition. If my prayers are pure and right. I 'beseech thee in the name of Jesus, and by reason of his death and sufferings, and because of his merits, to answer them. Add, I pray thee. Heavenly Father, every blessing on me and my household we are worthy t^ re- ceive; and to thee let all honor and glory be ascribed. Amen." The following letter displays his Christian trust as to the issues of tlu^ great struggle in which his country was engaged: "Camp near Richmond, /ung 20M, 1R62. "It is now within four days of a year, since I left you and home to enter the army. It has been a year crowded with inci- dents of most momentous importance to our State and Confed- eracy; of events that will be read with interest for generations to come, by the student of history and the statesman. It will tell of a government erected by wise patriots, overthrown by mad ambition, sectional hate, and unreasoning fanaticism. It will tell of a powerful people summoned to arms to resist in- vasion and subjugation. The nations of the earth have looked with complacency upon the spectacle of a fierce and strong de- mocracy, in a spirit of direst hate and meanest vengeance, striving in every way to crush and subjugate a feeble people who only ask to be let alone. This people, few in numbers compared with llieir adversaries, with an inadequate su])])ly of arms and munitions of war. shut up from intercourse with any portion of the world, have kept them at bay for one year, and at the end of that time have forced them to call for a large in- crease of their military force. It is true, we during this time have sustained grievous reverses. In the future, we have sad 460 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN" T. THOKNTON. and severe trials before us. liut (Jud iu his luercj' has borue lis up. and sustaiiied us tlius far. in our struggle for independ- ence, and I have an aA»iding faith that he will crown us iu the end with victory. I acknowledge with gratitude his mercy to nie in this year of affliction. While so many have fallen around uu\ from disease and the enemy, he has graciously given me health and strength. He has mercifully protected you and our dear children, and our servants, during these twelve months of tribulations. Let us praise his holy name, and give thanks with grateful souls, for his loving kindness and mercy. He is a 'Crod of comfort' to us, as St. Paul calls him. T do sincerely pray that all thi.s tendci' care of me may excite lively emotions of piety in my soul, and may constrain me to unite in your jii-ayer that God will strengthen me and enable me to persevere in ih(^ new life I am striving t3 lead." June i'5th, he writes: "It is useless to speculate as to the period when the war will end. I lu^ir oi)inion>; of various shades ex})ressed. It is si ill more idle to indulge in thoughts of what is to become of you and me in the progress of the conflict. Our lives and fjr- tunes are in the hands of an all-wise and merciful God. and we must give our souls repose in the faith that he will do all things for us better than we could for ourselves. This is the truest, best, and firmest consolation we can have in these days of trou- ble. When I can A'isit home, it is impossible for me to say. How much I would like to drop in on you this morning, and see you with our children all around you. Let us trust such joy is laid ujt in store for us, and without })erplexing our hearts, look forward to the future with confidence and courage. I doubt not, your faith is firmer than mine; but by mutual encouragement, we can strengthen the hearts of each other, to bear misfortune, if it is sent upon us, or to receive with joy and gratitude what- ever blessings may be vouchsafed." July 4th, 1862, he thus announces the results of the cam- paign before Kichmond: "The papers will give you an account of the triumphs vouchsafed to our arms by God, in the late battles around Rich- mond. He has mercifully protected me, but our htss in killed and wounded is fearfully large. Our whole land will be clothed iu mourning. I pray God to console the bereaved hearts, and A MEMORIAL OF IJEtJT. COL. JOHN T THORNTON 401 to tiii'u the charities of all our people upon those whose earthly protectors have 'been taken from them." The reader will now be able to nnderstand the allusion of the following PRAYER. July \th, 1862. My Father in Heaven, I come before thee this morning; wirh a song of praise and thanksgiving for the victory thou hast given us over our enemies. Oh Lord, thou hast heard the pray- ers of thy people; their supplications and petitions have ascend- ed to thy throne, and in the abundance of thy mercies thou hast heard them and answered them, by granting to our arms a triumph over our invaders. I feel and confess it is all from thee. Lord God Almighty; and to thy holy and glorious name do I ascribe all the praise. Continue, I praj' thee, thy mercy and kindness to us as a nation. Give wisdom from on high to our rulers and generals, and all others in authority. Strengthen the hearts of our soldiers, ishield their heads, and with thy strong arm bear up our banner in the conflict that is before us. Confuse and confound the counsels of our adversaries, drive them from our territory, and compel them by thy providence, to grant us a just and honorable peace. I pray thee, Oh Lord, to send thy Holy Spirit into the hearts of our soldiers, and make them soldiers of the Cross. Convert them to thy service, and make the people of the Confederate States a pious people, whose God is the Lord. I pray thee Oh Lord, to be with the sick and wounded of our army, in the hospitals and in the camps; alleviate their sufferings, soothe their pains, turn tiieir hearts to thee, and bless them whether they live or die. I pray, Oh God, for a blessing on the regiment in which I serve. Make all connected with it godly men and brave soldiers. Grant them grace to serve thee, and give them courage for the dis- charge of every duty. ''I pray thee. Oh Lord, to forgive my sins, to wash away my iniquities, to renew my heart. Pour upon me thy grace, so that I may always do thy will. I pray, most merciful Father, that thou wilt make me pure, give me strength to put aw^ay all evil thoughts and impure desires, to resist all temptations and wicked suggestions. INLake me to love thee supremely, and to prefer above all things else to do thy will, and to enjoy more 46:^ A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. than any other employment, thy holy service. Enable me, Oh Father, to live near to thy Divine Son, m}- Kedeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ, the Saviour of men. Be thou. Oh Sdu of God. if, in his wisdom and justice and mercj', he deteraiines other- wise, and either of us be sliorth' taken from the other, then may the otlier ibear the chastisement with meekness, and l3ok forward to a reunion in God's own good time, on rhat blessed shore, where adieus and farewells are sounds unknown. * * * Kiss all the boys for me. Give my love to Mrs. ; I hope she has recovered. Remember me kindly to the servants. Fare- well, * "■ *. May God keep you and our dear children." June 4th, 1862, he writes thus: 'Tell the dear boys I think often of them, and trust they will be obedient to you, and industrious in their studies. I have high hopes and expectations of our boys, and it would be a mercy of G3d for which we should pray, that you and I may be spared to see them reared to manhood, and to use our exer- tions to lead them to the paths of piety and honor." The same hopes are pursued in his next: "Camp near Richmond, June Vlih, 1862. "It is one of my earnest petitions to God. that if it be in accordance with his wise decrees, he may spare you and me, lo train our dear boys under his guidance. I feel how weak and feeble I am in the Christian life. I trust, with fear and trem- bling, that my faith is sincere, and my hopes are well grounded. Certainly I could not object to your telling our friend L , or any other friend you might desire to talk with on the subject, of my hope that my sins are pardoned, and that I am a true be- liever. But. I do not wish you to be deceived as to the state of my heart, and I know you would not deceive any one else. I have sinned much and long. I try, with a sincere penitence, I trust, t'd ask forgiveness of those sins from our Heavenly Fath- er, by reason of the atonement made iby our loving Saviour, whose righteousness I implore may be imputed to me. I feel the risings of sin in my heart every day. I endeavor to diive impure thoughts from my heart, to banish wicked words from wxy tongue, and to keep my hands from unclean deeds, but de- spite my striving, my prayers, my penitence, I sin. Conscious of my guilt, pra3'ing for forgiveness, I am a poor, weak Chris- tian. You must not then expect to see high Christian graces in A MEMORIAL oF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T THORNTON. 463 me. I hope, I trust, I pray for increase of faith. I try to be- lieve and implore God to help my unbelief. I notice all you say in reference to conversation with old and tried Christians. I should be rejoiced to have such friends to commune with, but I never could unveil my heart to any one except you; and even now, I do not know how I could speak to any one of my desire to be a Christian, of my communings with our Heavenly Father, of my faith in our adorable Saviour, of my prayers for the in- fluence of the Holy Ghost. You must be my guide * * » in the Christian walk * * * and to you I must look for advice and counsel. I pray that the war may end, and you. may take my hand in yours, and that we may pass along life's journey, aiding and encouraging each other in ali o':r '"luislian duties." About this time was written the first of these prayers which has been preserved; its date is June 10th. The bloody, but in- decisive battle of Seven Pines had then been fought. The vast hosts of Federals were pressing close up to the beleaguered city. The ami}' of Jackson was seemingly involved past hope in those complications of danger, from which it was soon to emerge in a blaze of glory. Every where, the condition of the Confederacy seemed to anxious patriots perilous, in the extreme., It was at this juncture Colonel Thornton penned these devout and solemn petitions: A PRAYER. ^'I beseech and implore thee, merciful Father, to look down with tender compassion on thy unworthy servant, to forgive his sins, to strengthen his faith, to fill his heart with thy grace, to shed upon his soul the influences of thy Holy Spirit; to give him bodily strength and courage for the discharge of all his duties, to illumine his mind with thy divine intelligence, to guide his feet in the path of holiness, to deliver him from every temptation that may assail him, to shield him from every as- sault of man or devil, to maintain him in health of body and purity of spirit, and finally to receive him in heaven, tliy holy dwelling place; there to live forever in the joy and delight of thy presence. '^I pray thee, Oh God! to blot out my sins. I f(^el how vile and impure I am and have been. I feel that I can lind refuge alone in the abundance of thy tender mercies: that nothing but 404 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. CoL. JOHN T. THORNTON. :he blood of Jesus, our adorable Saviour cau cleause my vile heart of its pollution. Tnder the shadow of thy mercy I seek to hide: in the flood that flows from Calvary, I wash my soul. •Treserve me, Oh Lord! from presumption, from a vain and foolish reliance on my own strength, from a silly confidence in the power and efficacy of my own good works; cause me at all times to know my folly and weakness; keep me continually luindful that salvation is all of free, unmerited grace; and never allow me for an instant to forget that the works of man, even the best he can perform, are marked by folly, and stained with guilt." "In thy hands, Oh meiciful Father, are the fortunes of my beloved State and Country. I recognize thy chastening hand in the afflictions thou hast sent upon our laud and upon our peo- ple. Teach us all to submit with Christian humility to these sad tribulations, to bear with Christian resignation these severe trials, to bow ibeneath the rod, and with reverence to honor the hand that smites. In thine own appointed time. Oh God! thou wilt deliver us from the hands of our enemies and of those who hate us. Thou, Oh Lord! wilt, in thy good time, lead us by a l)ath that thou wilt open to our feet, to safety and independence. lie thou. Oh Lard! our stay and our deliverance. In the day of i)attlebe with us; uphold our hands, strengthen our hearts, and give us victory over our foes. Oh Lord! smite with thy right- eous indignation the cruel invaders who now drive us from our homes and besiege our capital. Send thy angel, armed with the sword of justice, to execute vengeance upon our cruel foes. Make our army a holy instrument in thy hands, to punish the insolent tyrants who are now endeavoring to subjugate our people, to free our slaves, to confiscate our lands, and to take from us all that in thy goodness, thou hast given us. Drive the enemy, Oh Lord! from our soil. Give us, merciful Father, the blessings of peace. Shed the influences of thy Holy Spirit upon the hearts of our rulers and people, upon the hearts of the officers and privates of our army, and make us a God-fearing nation, whose ruler is the great Jehovah. I implore thee. Oh God! for thy blessing and especial favor on the regiment in wliich I am ser\ing. Make them pure and holy. Make them a l)and of Christian warriors, who shall fight in thy strength. Cover their heads in the hour of conflict; crown them with vie- A MEMOHIAL OF LIETJT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. 465 torv over our Xorthern foes, and over the wiles and machina- tions of the Evil One. ''I beseech thee, Heavenly Father, to guard and guide, and console, and sustain, thv handmaiden and servant, the wife whom thou hast given me. Bless her. Oh Lord I at all times. Write thy law upon her heart. Shield her from all evil, and if it be thy holy will, unite her and myself once more, and per- mit us together, as heads of a Christian family, in peace to serve my elder Brother; thou hast atoned for my sins; hear my pray- ers for forgiveness and acceptance to our Father, and bring me bark rich spiritual gifts. I pray thee. Oh God, to grant me health of body and steadiness of purpose, and cool, deliberate courage, and iurelligence, to discharge all the duties of my po- sition. Be with me in every trial: if thou wilt, shield me from every danger; if it be thy will that I fall in battle, receive my spirit, and take me to thy heavenly mansion, to dwell there forever in peace and rest, and joy and bliss, praising and serving thee. "Oh merciful Father, I implore thy blessing upon my be- loved wife. Comfort, console, and sustain her, I pray thee; fill her heart with thy grace; give her strength sufficient for all the severe labors she has to perform; grant her wisdom from on high to discharge every duty. Reunite her and myself, and let us througli long years of peace, worship thee, and train our children and servants in thy service. I pray thee. Heavenly Father, to bless my children; and till their tender hearts with love for thee; make them thy children; make them thine by election and adoption. Give their parents wisdom and grace, to train them for a heavenly inheritance. Bless my servants, I implore thee, most merciful God. Enable me to instruct them jjroperly, and to govern them wisely. Make them thy servants, zealous in every good work; and finally receive them to thyself in heaven. "I ask all these blessings in the name of my Saviour Jesus. I oifer these petitions in the name of thy Holy Son. Hear me, and answer me. Oh God. Pour upon me every blessing thou in thy mercy and loving kindness, wilt grant. Amen.'' 466 A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. ANOTHER PRAYER. July 21^/, 1862. "I approach thy throue, my Heavenly Father, this day, to acknowledge the benefits with which, in thy loving kindness and mercy, thou hast crowned me all the days of my life: to confess my sins, to implore forgiveness, to ask for thy grace and the influences of th^' Holy Sjjirit; and to beseech thee to continue to regard me with favor, to load me with blessings, and to grant me courage of heart and strength of body to discharge rightly and properly all the duties of my position. Oh (xod. wash my clean in the blood of thy Son, Christ Jesus, my Saviour. Let me go to the cross, and live near to him who died that I may live. Raise me from the grave to sit beside him who first rose from the grave that he might show to men the way to heaven. In his name I ofifer my petitions; through his intercession I ask forgiveness; by reason of his sufferings and atonement, I ex- pect salvation. I know that I am guilty, polluted, undone, and ruined; but I thank thee, Oh merciful Father, that on Calvary thou didst open a fountain, in whose stream the vilest and filth- iest sinner may wash his guilt away. To that fountain filled with blood I would come, and cleanse my heart from every stain. Pity, forgive, and save me. Lord God Almiglity. I pray thee, merciful Father, to shield me from all the perils that as- sail my life; from the pestilence that is abroad in the land, and from the cruel enemy that has invaded, and is now ravaging and destroying my State and Country. Be with me. Oh Lord God, at all times; shield me in the hour of couflicr, and make my hand strong to strike for truth, and justice, and right. Save me, merciful Father, and restore me, when the war is over, and thou hast sent peace on our land, to my home, my wife, my chil- dren, and my servants. "Bless, guide, comfort, and console the wife thou hast giv- en me, and the children that have been born of our marriage. Reign and rule in their hearts. Make the mother skilful and apt to teach her children thy law, and turn the hearts of the children to do thy will. Reunite us, merciful Father, and up- hold thy handmaiden and myself as the heads of a Christian family, and our offspring and servants as its members, teach- ing us all to love thy word and thy law, to live as becometh them who are stri^ing for a heavenly inlieiitance, and finally A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. 467 receive us all into heaven, thy holy dwelling place, to i)iaise and honor and serve thee through all eternity. "Oh Lord God! have mercy on my country, these (Vinfcd- erate states, naw struggling for salvation from tyranny and op- pression, and seeking the rights thou hast given us as a nation, through an agony of blood and suffering. I see, Oh God, the desolations that mark the footsteps of our cruel enemy. Befoi-e me are the naked fields, the ruins of the 'burned dwelling, and far away from the fierce foe are the houseless and homeless wanderers. These cruel tyrants boast of their large numbers, their great wealth, and their power, vastly superior to that of these poor KStates. They rely on the arm of fiesh. Wc trust in thee, Oh Lord God Jehovah! Be thou our fortress and our de- fense; God of battles, be with the soldiers of this ('onfederacy, and give them victory; God of truth and justice, reign in the hearts of the people all over the land; God of wisdom, illumine the minds of our rulers and officers; God of mercy, give us peace; God of nations, give us independence; and to thy name be all honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen.'' July 22nd, 1802, he wrote from the region of the I'amun- key, a letter well describing the principles which made him resolute in enduring, without any ambitious aspirations, a sep- aration so irksome to his soul. "I aim amused at the delight you so heartily manifest, at my not meeting the enemy, who were reported as crossing into King \Mlliam. You say you cannot wish me any opportunity of distinction wliere my life will be placed in jeopardy. In re- ply I would say, tliat I only desire to do my duty. I have no thirst for military fame; for I know it is won through blood and tears and suffering. But I do desire to aid in driving the base invader from Mrginia's soil. I am amazed that men can sit quietly at home, when they see the fate that awaits us if the enemy succeeds in subjugating us. I am sitting now, as I write, in full view of what was, before the invasion, one of the loveliest estates in Virginia. It is now a scene of desolation; the fields are naked, the fences destroyed, the houses burned, the laborers stoh^i away, and the owners fugitives, and, if this were all their wealth, beggars." His remaining letters, written on the march from lower Virginia to Manassas and Maryland, were little more than 468 A MEMOEIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. brief notes, penned in mniueuts snatched from the fatigues of the journej. But in all of them, his 3'earnings for the SDciety of his beloved home were mingled with prayers for faith and strength to bear his lot with fortitude. The last specimen of prayer which he left is incomplete. Perhaps the bugle-call summoned him away from the solemn and pleasing communion of the mercy seat, to the march or the combat. THE LAST PRAYER. July 21th, 1862. ''I come before thee. Oh Lord God Ahuighty, on this thy holy day, to thank thee for the many mercies I have received from thy loving hand, and for the protection thou liast here- tofore afforded me; to ask that thou wilt not withdraw thA" mercy, favor, and protection from me, but wilt continue to crown me with blessings, and shield me from all assaults of the world, the flesh, and the Devil. I come to implore the for- giveness of my sins, pardon for all my guilt, and eternal salva- tion for my soul, through the merits and intercession of thine adorable Son Christ Jesus. I come to praise thee for the loving kindness and tender compassion which, at such a cost, and at such a sacrifice, furnished a way of escape for guilty man. Oh Lord! I would live near to thy Son Christ Jesus, our Lord and Saviour. I pray thee to give me grace, to illumine my under- standing, to fill my heart with love, to make thy service my de- lightful work, and obedience to thy law my most pleasant duty. Save me, I beseech thee, from vain-glorying, from boasting, from self-reliance, " Thus the expression of his longings for holiness were brok- en off unfinished, like his life. But his friends may trust that his life, so full of promise here was but the infancy of a far more blessed and glorious existence in that heaven to which he as- pired; and so, that these acts of worship, interrupted here below are now continued with a nobler, sweeter tongue, and with higher raptures, where there are no wars nor rumors of wars to disturb the saints, in the heavenly Sabbath. These mementoes exhibit, so far as a brief Christian life of less than a year could, the renewing power of the religion of Jesus Christ, in a high degree. The scriptural tone of the petitions shows, in one so young in divine knowledge, the evi- dent teachings of the Holy Ghost. The change in Colonel A MEMORIAL OF LIEUT. COL. JOHN T. THORNTON. 469 Tlioiiitou's cliaracter was marked. He was, by nature, a proud spirit ; we here find his prayers breathing the most profound hu- mility. His character was usuallj- apprehended to be stern; these exercises of soul are instinct with a melting tenderness, for all. except the enemies of righteousness. This attempt to display his inner life is now closed, with the earnest prayer, that God may incline the hearts of all his friends and com'- rades, and of every brave soldier of our country, to seek his Saviour, to imitate his example so far as he was a folljwer of Jesus Christ, and to raise to the throne of grace, these, or such- like prayers. NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE.' ■'And the gates of hell shall not prevail again.st it."" Thei-e are soni^^ thinj^s wliicli can 'be daiie, and tliei'e are .some others whii-li obvionslv cannot. The curion-; thing about this very trite fact is, that peojjle continue tryinii,- to do these other thinjis, as thouj;h they were feasible. This they do both in the mechanical and moral world. Thus: I here are s:)me peo- ])le always, who are inventin*;- perjx^tual motion, and just on the point of etfecting it. ^lany and diverse, says the Scientific American, arc^ the machines invented for this purpose; but it I'ecom'mends to all future experimenters, as the cheapest and simplest, and equally effective with the best, the plain tub. The machine of the tub is operated thus. The vessel chosen is a large one, with handles. It is placed on the floor; the opera- tor then gets into it, and laying hold 'of the handles with his hands, lifts the tub up to the ceiling. Succeeding in this, he has i)erpetual motion in its simplest principle. In every generation, the social, political, and religious tub- lifters are numerous. "Mother Anna Lee," patron saint of the Shakers, was gr)ing to abolish sin by abolishing matrimony. The j)lan was simple, and perfectly effectual. Convert all the a(bilt sinners, and agree that when converted they shall have no more children. As all actual transgression comes out of original sin, and all original sin is transmitted by birth, one generation more would happily finish the work of Satan on earth. The good mother only made one little mistake m the project. Who were to carry out this excellent plan? The men and women, of course. But men and women usually have a nalural propensity, which is more fundamental and regulative than the desire to arrest original sin. So it turns out that poor human nature doesn't lift itself in Mother Lee's tub; but goes on multiplying and increasing, and replenishing the earth with 1 From the JVew York Independent- 470 NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE 471 3'oung: siuuei's; leaving the world's redemption to the less sym- metrical plan of the Grospel. So Mr. John Stuart Mill proved to his own satisfaction that all individual title to real estate is adverse to the public weal; and the "International" communists, going a little far- ther, declare, La propriete cest U crime] ''Establish commun- itv of goods; and public spirit will make the best of everything, and procure the greatest good to the greatest number." Here again, man is to lift himself in his tub. It is forgotten that nature has made the desire for the special welfare of one's self. and of one's own family, far stronger than the desire for the general good. Hence the only possible result of the theory is, not that private property shall be happily substituted by com- munism; but that happy civilized societies may be plunged into anarchy; and what little private property is left be held with a far fiercer grasj). and defended by personal violence instead of by regulated and benignant law. Natural selfishness will never lift itself into disinterestedness, least of all by force of an infidel creed which makes selfish pleasure its summufn bonum. Another instance of the tub-movement is seen in Mrs. Cady Stanton's ''Women's Rights." Woman is to be freed from her subordination to man I By whom, forsooth? X>ot by the sel- fish, masculine despot, of course; for every impulse of his sel- fishness prompts him to perpetuate the tyranny. It is to be done, then, by woman. She is to make her.self independent of man! But the Creator, who made men and women, has laid down the law, "I'nto him shall be thy desire," as the founda- tion of woman's nature. So tluit the amount of the claim for women's rights is, again, tliat the inventor shall lift herself in her tub. Were the realizing of the revolution the only danger, men might safely give ^Irs. Cady Stant ju tlieir full leave to succeed. She would then find that her real difficulty was un- surmounted; thnt every one of her "oppressed" sisters, who was a true woman, would Aoluntarily desert her and seek to be be- loved, cherished, and jtrotected by one of the masculine "ty- rants"; and this by the inevitable force of a nature a thou- sandfold more imperative than her zeal for ^frs. Cady Stan- ton's revolution. And hence again, tlie only possible result of this movement will he, not the independence and equality of woman, but the substitution of the savage dependence of the 472 NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE slave-concubine, tlie ''weaker vessel" held and abused by brute force, for tlie benignant order of scriptural marriage. These attempts to do the impossible illustrate the most ab- surd enterprise of all: the attempt of our modern materialistic infidels to abolisli religion. Tlie Commune shouted, "Down wirli pr()p(Mtv and leligi m. tlie two chief enemies of human progress. ■■ The onlv result of .success in destroying religion would be to re])lace it with sonn^ mischievous superstition. This is sufficiently e\'inced. to any sober mind. Iiy a review of the past. Every people, in every age, has had either its religion or its superstition; either its (i9d 'or its Fetich. Now. a universal result is an index of a permanent cause: there must be some- thing in human nature which compels it to recognize the su- pernatural. When our would-be jihilosophers assume that they can exist without this necessity, it is only the very modest pre- tension that tliey are themselves supernatural; that is. more than men. Tliat religion is inevitable to man may be inferred again from tlu^ unif:)rm result of every attempt which has been made to exclinl(\ oi- even to omit it from human thought ;ind life. They have always been predestined failures. Thus, those who profess to understand the system of Tonfucius. nominally so dominant in China, tell us that it is not really a religion, but a siicial .system of morals; that it olfers the Chinese mind no object of divine homage save an abstraction; and that it is in fact only a system of moral rules enforcing the idea of civic subordination; the only wor.ship inculcated, that of dead ances- tors, being designed merely to strengthen the impulse of filial respect. VMiat now, is the result? Tliere is id ]ieople who make a more frequent recognition of the supernatural. To say nothing of the vast system of Buddhism, the whole nation seems enslaved to demon worship, and to the bondage of "the evil eye," "the influence," and the genii of 1 )calities. Yet the Chinese are at once the most astute and tlie most materialistic of the Oriental races. But we may come nearer home. The materialist Thomas Hobbes, of Malmesbury, was said to be more afraid of ghosts than any educated man in England. Atheistic French Democ- racy professed to abrogate Gad, the Church, and the Sabbath; but so strong was the religious necessity, that even these mad- men enthroned the "Groddess of Reason." Auguste Comte spent NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE. 473 his life in teaching- that his ''Positive Philosophy" neeessarilj exchided every supernatural notion. But at its close he finisli- ed by establishing a new religion, and a proposed hierarchy with Conite as its hierophant, and the soul of his deceased mistress as a sort of "Queen of Heaven." These facts may be set in a light istill more mortifying to the enemies of Christianity, and mure conclusive against their hopes. The weakest rcdigions hav(^ always been strong enough to outvie infidelity upon a fair trial. What has it then to hope, in the presence of a true Christianity, with its purity and pow- er? Even popery, tlie fruitful mother 'of infidels, has Saturn- ian strength enough to devour tlu^se. lier own children. French po{)ery begot Voltaire; and so sorry a rtdigion as French popery was adefjuate to overthrow VoltaircMsm. We are told that the effect of national misfortune and liumiliation has been to fill the Romish Church again with Freni-hmen (and not women only), and to i)reL'ii)itate the people into sham miracles, the pil- grimages, and the other fooleries of the Middle Ages. The Au- gustan age of classic paganism gave a similar result. Greek and Roman philosophy deemed itself too wise to retain the old traditionai-y creed of their fathers. They could laugh at tlie auspices, and explode Pan and Ceres, Castor and Pollux, with the herd of imaginary gods. But none the less must the Au- gustan age have gods from some whither; so philosophic Athens had its altar to "The Pnknown God," and im])erial Rome im- l)orted Judaism, tln^ mystery of the P]gyptian Iris, and the mag- ic of the P]ast. Now, gentlemen infidels, we may heartily concur with you in your scurvy (\stimate of these ancient and modern })aganisms, the religions of Jupiter and the Po])e. I'ut we re- mind you, that scurvy as they were, they were sufficient to con- quer you. ''If these things were done in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry?" If mankind is compelled by the con- stitution of the soul, in ages when it seemed to have no better choice than Jbetween these wretched creeds and you, to prefer either of these to you; what are your prospects against the uni- versal diffusion of the Christian religion, with its ennobling and satisfying truths? The rational account of these results is in the law with which we set out. Nature cannot revolutionize nature. The human soul has certain original, constitutive, universal laws 474 NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE. of tliiukiug aud feeliug, the presence of whicli qualify it as a rational liinnau soul. Hence, whatever any soul thinks or feels is a result of these regulative laws. It is, then, infallibly cer- tain that these cannot be abrogated or expunged by their own results, for the same reason that streams cannot change their own fountains, anil rliildren cannot determine the being of their own parenrs. Let men, for instance. thrDw any liglit of plausibil- ity they may ai-ound mateiialism; let them please themselves with tile fancy iliar tliey have identified mind with matter; let the physiologist pretend to trace the power of thought into his "nerve-force," and to resolve this in turn into electricity. There remains still the stubborn and fundamental fact of psychology, which the common sen.se of men will, in the end, always eon strue for theni.selves, without or against the pretended helps of science; that the consciousness of that which thinks, the sub- jective Ego, is necessarily ]nior to all possible jterception of objective matter, ^^o that the only terms upon which man can know matter at all involve a priori the recognition of mind as inevitably contrasted with matter. That is. the very law of our cognition is, that we must first know mind as not matter in order to know matter. Our most recent infidelity asserts that nothing is valid ex cept that which is formed on the perceptions of the senses. But unless they accept with us the supersensuous rational belief, that what sense gives us is valid, it is Impossible for sense it- self to show them any truth. Again, man must cease to be man before he can strip him- self of conscience, of the conviction of -moral responsibility, of the .sense of guilt for transgression, of hope, of fear, and of the inextinguishable desire for his own well-1)eing. These senti- ments are the universal results of fundamental intuitions. All that can be done is to forget them or to obscure them for a time; but when they are revived by the touch of affliction, dan- ger, remorse, or death, man will derive and seek a ])ro])itiation for his guilt, a preparation for judgment, and a way t > future happiness, as surely as he is man. The sentiment of religion is omnipotent in the end. We might rest in assurance of its tri- umph, even without appealing to the work of .that Holy Ghost which Christianity promises as the omnipotent coadjutor of the truth. While irreligious men of science explore the facts of NATURE CANNOT REVOLUTIONIZE NATURE. 475 natural history, and the fossils of earthly strata, for fancied proofs of a creation by evolution which may dispense with a Creator, the luimble heralds of our Lord Christ will continue to lay rheii" hands upon the heart-striuos of living immortal men, and tind there always forces to overwhelm unbelief with de- feat. Does tlie "Positivist" say these propositions are only of things spiritual? Ay, but spiritual consciousnesses are more stable tlian all his jtrimitive granite I Centuries hence, if man shall continue in his present state S3 long, when the current theories of unbelief shall have been consigned to that limbus where polytheism and the Ptolemaic astronomy, alchemy, and judicial astrology lie contemned, the servants of the Cross will be winning larger and yet larger victories for Christ, with the same Gospel which was preached by Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Isaiah. Paul, Augustine and Calvin. Hampden ^^idney, Ya., Oct. 1st. 1873. SAMUBL C. ANDERSON. OF PRINCE EDWARD.' Every Presbytei'ian of intelligence, who visited the neigh- l)L)iIiood of Hampden Sidney aibont the years 1835 to 1840, car- ried a\^ay with liini, among liis most pleasing recollections, the memories )f tlie liosj)itable mansion of Mr. Anderson. He was then in the prime of his corporeal and intellectual powers, and of his Christian inrtuence: a leading elder in the College riuircli, and rrustee of tlip College, the foremost advocate at the bar of his county; and the honored and trusted adviser of its people. His liDuse during all these years, was frequented with delight il)y young and old, and was the center of a wide circle of cultivated, -Christian society; where Mr. Anderson, as- sisted by his accomplished wife, and his lovely adopted daugh- ter, dispensed a professional income almoist princely, in un- bounded hi)spitalities and charities. His noble person and countenance will not speedily be forgotten by any, who saw him in the animation of social converse, or in the flow of his masculine and impetuous oratory. He was, in every sense, a man of nature's noblest mould. Amidst the horrors and confusions attending the closing camjtaign of (JtMicral Lee upon rhe Appomattox, the death of this venerable servant of God has perhai)s passed unnoted by many of his former friends. The suspension of the circulation of the religious journals has also delayed the publication of the usual tribute to his memory. This will now be attempted, in the form of a brief narrative. Mr. Anderson was the son of a respectable planter upon Willis' Kiver. in the county of Cumberland, where he was born July 21st. 1788. l^p to approaching manhood, he received only the plain education of the old-field-school: when he was seized with an irresistible desire for a liberal education. There was an excellent classical school six or seven miles distant; but his father declared that, while he might 'be able to pay his tuition, 1 Appeared in The Presbyterian Quarterly, April, 1894. 476 SAMUEL C. ANDERSON 477 his limited cirenmstances forbade liis assiiiiiino the expense of his boai'ding ai)road. The 3'oiitli declared that he would fre- quent the school daily from home, notwithstanding the dis- tance. His father supposed that he would soon wearj^ of this undertaking, but gave his consent to the experiment. He joy- fully accepted the opportunity; and for several years was the most punctual pupil at the school. Taking his breakfast with the dawn, he might be seen every morning before the sun, set- ting out afoot upon his dail\' journey, and he was usually the first scholar at th(^ school-house. Here he gained a S3lid train- ing in the classics, and some of the rudiments of science; and this was tbp only i)atrimony he ever received from his father. While still a youth, he went to the county of Powhatan, where for four years he taught a country school. In this avoca tion his success was so great, that old Dr. Lacy (Silver-fist), himself a famous teacher, declared he ought to be compelled to follow it for life, for the public good. His talent of com mand and force of character were here strongly developed. His diligence and punctuality were unfailing, and such was the in- dustry and subordination he inspired, that a lazy or bad boy was unknown in his school. Aftcn' the good, old Virginian fashion, the boys and girls of the neighborhood were taught to- gether: a custom which did much to foster that courtesy, mu tual respect, and purity, which so highly distinguished the in- tercourse of the sexes among us. In these schools, under the eye of a watchful teacher, the young learned from childhood the proper "metes and bounds'' of virtuous intercourse, and grew up from little gentlemen and ladies. Mr. Andersan was peculiarly watchful in guarding this intercourse, and exacting of the 'boys a punctilious respect for their female associates. He said that the greatest whipping he ever gave, was to a gawky youth (as big as himself) for entering the school-room on a sultry afternoon, without his caat (clothed in the other garments, shirt, vest, trousers, etc.) Having served two campaigns with credit in the State forces, during the war of 1812, he returned to civil life, and studied the science of law with Captain Henry E. Watkins, oif Prince Edward, his life-long friend, and co-elder. He com- menced the practice of this profession in the year 1816, at Prince Edward Court House. Here he married, settled, and 478 SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. spent his life. His diligence, integrity, and forensic eloquence si^eedily raised him to the head of his profession: a pasr which he did nor fail to maintain, to the end of his active life. .Vs a lawyer, he was quick, ready, full of resource in deliate. inijta- tient of the labor of preliminary research, but oviM'p )wering in r(^joinder. His generous sympathies and ardent nature caused hiui to identify himself warmly with his clients: so that he was always a zealous advocate. His comrades, knowing the influ- ence of forensic strife in rousing his powers, and the force of his oratory upon juries, always sought to give him the closing speech in important cases. The best judges have said that, in those years, Samuel C. Anderson, in the bar of Prince Edward or Buckingham, exposing some artful fraud, or pleading the aspersed honor of innocent woman, was the noblest specimen of manly beauty, power, and eloquence, ever seen in that re- gion. Upan the retirement of John Randolph, of Koanoke, from Congress, the leading citizens of his party urged Mr. Anders<(n to become a candidate for that place, with the certainty of be- ing elected his successor. He declined the proposal, in favor of Judge Bouldin ; who served for a short time with great dis- tinction, and died in his seat in the House, of apoplexy. The reason assigned by ^Ir. Anderson for refusing political honors at that time, was worthy of the consideration of every young man. He said that he had a liberal professional income, with free and hospitable habits af living, without private estate. Hence, as his attention to public affairs must diminish his earn- ings, he could not at once maintain his domestic estaiblishment, and his pecuniary independence. But no man, he judged, should be entrusted with the interests of his country, whose j)ersonal independence was encumbered with any financial shackles: lest they should become a tem])tation to tarnish that briglit purity of actiDU, which the public servant should ever possess. Tn the year 1828 the visit of Dr. Xettleton to Virginia oc- lurred, which resulted in so remarkable and permanent a work of grace. On the invitation of Dr. John H. Rice, this elocjuent and holy man visited the region about the College; and his la- bors were instrumental in bringing into the church a large number of the first men of the country, of whom many have SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. 479 fallen asleep; but some vet remain to adorn tlieir profession. Among these converts was Mr. Anderson. He had lived hith- erto, strictly honorable and virtuous after the world's standard, but "without (xod in the world," and in the very luxuriance of his healtli, prosperity, and manly energies. The word of God now took hold upon him with giant power. He declared that al- though, in one sense, he had heard many able preachers, whose sermons his retentive memory would have enabled him to re- peat almost entire, in another sense, he had never heard a ser- mon before. The nature of God's law, his relations to it, and liis wants as a sinner, were now seen by him in as new a light, as though he had been hitherto one of I'aul's Athenian hearers upon .Vreopagus. With an overpowering conviction of his guilt and misery fixed in his soul, he determined that lie would at once seek its salvation with all his might. Dr. Xettletou was holding private meetings for special instruction, in the parlor of Dr. Rice (in the northeastern corner of the Seminary build- ing, then just partly erected) similar to what are now called iu- quirj'-meetings: and all those who desired more particular knowledge of 'what they must do to 'be saved,' were invited to attend there in the evening. MauA' powerful impulses of pride and false shame deterred Mr. Anderson from attending. The evil principles within him pleaded: "What will your gay, pro- fessional comrades say, when thev hear that the lofty head of Samuel C. Anderson is bowed in such a meeting, amidst a clus- ter of weejnug school-boys and girls, confessing his sins to a parson?" As he rode to the jjlace. his breast was in a tumult of strife; and when he came to the door of the room, saw the lights within, and the solemn stillness of the compau}', so powerful was the struggle between the evil and the good within him, that, he declared, it was as though some invisible, 'but adaman- tine bar had been placed across the door of the room, which re- sisted his entrance with a palpable force. But he bethought himself that this reluctance to enter was prompted by sinful affections, seconded most probably by Satan: tliat he needed the instruction he sought there; and that if he now yielded to a false impulse, and retired, it would l)e a vii-tual turning of iiis back upon Christ and duty, for the sake of sin, and might be the sealing of his impenitence forever. He therefore nerved himself with an almost desperate resolve, and literally broke 480 SAMUEL C. ANDEESON. through into tlie room, where he took liis seat aiuoiig the peni- tents. This decisive moment seemed to be the turning point with his soul, and he speedily found peace in believing. The determination to cast all sinful and Satanic obstacles behind him, in pursuing those means of grace which lie felt to be ap- propriate to his wants and duty, was probably nothing else than the initial acting of faith and repentance, in embracing Christ, and his service: although at ttrst he knew it not as such. He soon enrolled himself among (fad's people; and sucli was his Christian walk, that after a few years, he was elected one of their elders: an office which he tilled with increasing pieiy to his death. His abilities and decision speedily made him a num of mark in the Presbyterian Church. He cultivated an ardent friendship for her leading ministers, and especially for Drs. Rice and Baxter, whose steady coadjutor and adviser he was, in all their labors for Zion. With his usual liberality, he now set apart one-third of his income, the whole of which proceed- ed from his professional labor, for the service of the church; and during his prosperous years, this portion was expended in charities, in sustaining the religious press, and in other Chris- tian enter{)rises. besides the sums lavished in his unfailing hos- pitalities. The most signal service wliicli he rendered to the church, in the estimation >f the public at large, was his famous speech in the Assembly of 1837. in spport lof the. so-called, excinding acts. Dr. Baxter and he were among the commissioners from West Haeover Presbytery to that body: in which the fornu-r was the acknowledged leader of the old scliool. It was in Bax- ter's capacious mind that the plan originated, after all other expedients seemed hopeless, of ridding the church of the incu- bus of the new measures and theology, by declaring the Plan of Union unconstitutional. During the sessions of the Assem- bly he came to Mr. Anderson and asked him briefly: ''If a leg- islative proceeding be found unconstitutional, what becomes of the executive and administrative acts which are grounded on it?" "They are all,'' said :Mr. Anderson, ''null and void, in law." "Then.'' said Dr. Baxter, "prepare yourself to prove it in the Assembly.'' The doctor, having explained his views to the old-school men, in their nightly convention, ov caucus, SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. 481 moved them the next day, in the house, in a short series of propositions, whose logic was built together like an arch of stone; and then remitted the discussion mainly to j'ounger and more forward men. The chief debater.s of the two parties now- waged, for several days, a forensic war of the giants. The New School relied up3n an elder from Pennsylvania, who was also a distinguished judge at law, to assail the legal principles of Dr. Baxters plan. Mr. Anderson went to him, and politely indicated his wish to take part in the discussion on the other side, requesting the use of the legal authorities introduced into the ease. This the judge politely accorded; and it may be added that, in the subsequent discuss'ion, the two maintained towards each other a forensic courtesy, by which the acrimony of many of the clergy was put to shame. The judge also suggested that ^Ir. Anderson, if he could succeed in getting the floor in the general eagerness to speak, at the end of his speech, should make the closing reply. The latter could not but indulge an in- ward smile, as he said to himself: ''Had you known the esti- mate of my peculiar forte held by my legal brethren at home, you would hardly have volunteered this proposal." The judge, with the customary self-esteem of his section, evidently regard- ed Ms proposed antagonist from the South, as the reverse of formidable. Meantime, the clerical leaders of the Old School, had laid out their parliamentary tactics for the day, designing to put up one of their leading debaters to reply to the legal argument of the judge, and selecting an active man, at the close of that speech, to spring to his feet, secure the floor, and demand the previous (question. But when the judge finished, to their great chagrin, ^Ir. Anderson obtained the floor, instead of their cham- pion. Their faces showed mortification; those of the larger number displayed wonder, who this unknown combatant could be who thus thrust himself into the war of the princes; and Dr. Baxter, who knew his man, was sufl'used with a smile of quiet enjoyment. When ^Ir. Anderson found that the Mod- erator had recognized him, all his self-possession for a moment deserted him: He, who was perfectly collected in the stormier forums of the bar and hustings, now found liimself without a single idea, in this novel arena, before the vast audience col- lected from every part of the Union, and especially at the •J82 SAMUEL C. ANDEESON. thought of the anxious aud sympathizing countenance of his 'beloved wife, which lie well knew, was bent upon him from some retired nook of the galleries. But he said that he be- thought himself to fill up a minute with some commonplaces about his respect for the Moderator and the body, and his dif- fidence, until his self-possessdon returned to him: and after this exordium, he was conscious that he had regained the full poise of all his faculties. As he proceeded in his rejoinder, the im- patience of the house was replaced by surprise, aud by delight. Whispers of. "Who is he?" "Who is he?" ran over the au- dience. He proceeded, with just such vigorous and courteous logic as he was accustomed to employ in the courts of Virginia, intermingled with happy repartee and luxuriant humor, to turn the legal argument of the Xew School inside out, to overthi'ow their pDsitions \sith their own authorities, and to sweep away their arguments, like the wind the chaff of the threshing floor. It was manifest that he was making a profound impression on the house, and that his argument must be decisive of the vote. Dr. Absalom Peters, the Ajax of the New School, writhing like a culprit upon the rack, at the demolition of his cause, could contain himself no longer; but springing to Ms feet in- terrupted Mr. Anderson, and announcing again a position which he seemed to regard as the very citadel of his strength, said tauntingly, "I should like to hear the gentleman come to that topic." "I shall come to that soon enough for you." replied he. shaking his finger at him in acceptance 3f his challenge. His Old School friends almost held their breaths with anxiety, as they said to themselves: "Will his performance be. indeed, able to come up to this audacious pledge?" But wheu. in the regular order of his reply, he reached the favorite premise of Dr. Peters, he exploded it with a happy power, and clear light, which formed the climax of his victory, and silenced his ad- versary effectually. Meantime he took occasion to exact of Dr. Peters a. good natured revenge for his discourtesy. Seeing him anxiously fumbling a law-book introduced by the judge, and by him promised to Mr. Anderson, he reached his hand for it, saying in a sotto-voce audible to the whole house: "Give it me: raw hands ought not to meddle with edged tools." At this, the inimitable humor of his expressive countenance convulsed the audience with laughter. SAMUKL C. Af^DERSON. 483 When he closed his remarks, the person selected by the Old School to ask the previous question, felt that no other ar- gument could be so effective, and at once performed his ap- pointed task. The house was apparently satisfied als-o: the call was granted, and the majority which voted with the Old School showed, that Mr. Anderson had decided every mind which wavered. All, except Virginians, were startled and amazed at this display of his powers. The Xorthern people a'bout the Assembly, espec-ialh', asked themselves: How comes it that this great master of debate has been hitherto unheard of by us? They said, his powers, like those of Pa»llas, must have sprung at one leap from their infancy to their adult vigor. But this was all mistaken. Mr. Anderson now exhibited no other powers, than those which, in his happier occasions, his compeers w^ere often accustomed to witness in him at the bar of Prince Edward. In this ecclesiastical debate, he had a sub- ject cuited to his faculties and taste: a great principle of con- stitutional law. His mastery over it, and the amazing contrast between his handling of it and that of his Northern adversaries, was but an illustration of the superior civic culture prevalent among the gentlemen of Virginia, and, ypt more, of their deep- er veneration for constitutional bonds. This interesting incident has been described at this length, only because of its eclat without his own circle. In the Synod of Virginia, he sustained the reforms of 1837, with equal eloquence. For a number of years, indeed, as long as health allowed, he was an interested and influential member of church courts in his own State, and his helping hand was in every good work. Thus he passed along for fifteen j^ears more, busy in his laborious profession, and frequently charged with public trusts for church and State. About the year 1852, his robust frame was shattered by an attack of paralysis. For a time, he lay motionless, and in- capable of speech, and. as others supposed, unconscious. But he said afterwards, that the sense of hearing, the powers of thought, and the sensibility to pain, were even unnaturally ac- tive: and at the very moment that he heard the anxious friends around his bed congratulating him on this sad advantage, that he was at least insensible to suffering, he was enduring not only bodily pain, but a wringing of the nerves unspeakably more 484 SAMUEL 0. ANDERSON. agonizing than mere pain. His experience suggests the truth, which nurses and ministers of religion should bear in mind, that oftentimes cousciousne:SS and the powers of attention are awake in the sick, where they have the ability to ''give no sign." Had the consolations of religion been addressed to Mr. Ander- son at that hour, he would have appreciated them fully, al- though utterly unable to signify it, by voice, or motion of an eyelid, or a muscle. This alarming disease was, however, ar- rested, and by virtue of his temperance and sanity of constitu- tion, it left no after-consequences, except a tremor of the hands, which gradually grew with the advances of age. Mr. Anderson at once felt this, as a distinct summons to "set his house in order." He did not demit any of the active duties of life; but anticipating some sudden return of his mal- ady, he made his account to die with his harness on. Yet there was a great increase of the depth, tenderness, and devotion of his Christian character. He still frequented, as before, the old law office in the corner of his shrubbery, which had for so long been the scene of active bustle, and the haun-t of a throng of clients. But his tremulous hand refused even to write a legal instrument: aud the laborious duties of his profession were turned over to a young kinsman, who had become his partner, afterwards known aud lamented, a;s the distinguished Colonel John S. Thornton. Those who visited Mr. Anderson, in these later years, in his office, were almost sure to find him reading his old quarto Bible. This became the constant, the almost ex- clusive occupation of his leisure. Pencil in hand, he dwelt de- liberately upon each clause, signifying his appreciation of those which struck him as peculiarly weighty, by a Toroad mark drawn underneath. Going over his Bible thus, again and again, it gradually became 'blackened all over with these marks, to an almost incredible extent. This old Bible is now treasured up, as a curious aud affecting memorial of his diligence in the study of the Word. The maturing of grace in his character was also ■most marked in his prayers, at the domestic altar, and in the prayer meetings of the church, which he so much loved to fre- quent, as long as his infirmities allowed. His devotions were peculiar for the profound, and yet triumphant tone of rever- ence and adoration, and the holy importunity, which pervaded them more and more. To every spiritually-minded Christian, SAMUEL C. ANDERSON. 485 it was a treat, a refreshment, to bear Mr. Anderson lead in prayer. When his infirmities increased, a transaction occurred be- tween him and his hiw-partner, Mr. Thornton, equally honorable to both. He had taken this young kinsman into his oflQce when he was first licensed; and he had rapidly grown into high favor with the people. Mr. Anderson now volunteered to declare to him, that their partnership must be dissDlved. "I am but a burden to you now," he added. "You do all the work, and en- dure the hardships: you are virtually supporting my family, as well as your own: and it is not just that I should allow you to burden yourself with such an incubus, in your ascending career. You must set up f3r yourself, so as to advance unimpeded by me." When Mr. Anderson proposed this, he well knew that its execution would consign him almost to penury: for his gen- erous and almost profuse spirit had left him no accumulations from his years of arduous labar. But 'Sh\ Thornton positively refused to accede to the dissolution of the partnership; urging that ^Ir. Anderson's present enjoyment of the moiety of the earnings of the firm was but a just return for his princely gen- erosity, in according to him the same share, at the 'beginning; when he was but a stripling, withDut professional patronage or experience; and that, if Mr. Anderson no longer did his half of the riding, writing, and speaking, yet his wisdom in counsel, and his moral weight, were still richly worth their pay. In; this generous strife, both seemed for a time equally obstinate; but at last the dbstinacy of Thornton prevailed; and amidst Mr. Anderson's growing iurtruiities. the partnership continued, un- til the approach of the war indicated that the former was to be called to other scenes of usefulness. In this great cnutest for rlir ind(^i)endence of ^'irginia, ^Ir. Anderson was a consistent and ardent supporter of his native State. Just in proportion tj his piety, ripening for heaven, was the clearness and steadfastness of his devotion to the great con- stitutional rights, which, he believed, were about to be over- thrown. His embarrassed affairs and growing decrepitude left him little else that he could do for his country, except to coun- sel, to pray, and to suffer. Most no'bly did he do all these; and especially the latter. To his friends, it was one of the most touching incidents of the calamities of the country, to see such 480 SAMUEL C ANDERSON. a man, whose liberal hand had solaced so many, reduced, by the depreciation of the currency, and other difficulties of the time, to the verge of want. But he bore every privation with a cheerful, modest dignity, beautiful to behold, and instructive to all younger men. Always hopeful, ever courageous, he was a stay and stimulus to all whom he met ; and when he crept out to the Court House hard by, leaning on his staff, to speak a word of cheer to the people, and leave his benediction with them, the fire of better years was rekindled in his eye, and the old walls recognized again the sonorous echo of that voice, which was wont to peal there, when the lion of the ibar had trodden his stage, and shaken his kingly mane at the enemies of country and right, in the days of his strength. But that mane was now white as the snows of the hoary Alps; and the tread of his stalwart lim'bs was slower and slower. His orb was steadily approaching its western horizon, serenely, and brightly, despite the war-clouds whose angry and thickening folds had usurped the place of that peaceful, glowing sunset, which we would have desired to close the evening of such a career as his. Then came suddenly, the fall of his country; and at that blow, his spirit said, "It is enough," and sank instantly to its rest: to rise again in the eternal heavens. On the night of Sunday, April 2nd, General Lee silently evacuated Richmond and Petersburg, and began his arduous and doubtful retreat towards the waters of the Roanoke. Mr. Anderson heard even this appalling news, with a steadfast heart: he still refused to despair of the Republic: and in the immediate jirospect of passing, witli liis lionu^ and family, into the lines of the enemy, his spirit was as unshaken and composed as ever. The morning of Friday, the 7th, tlie quiet village was overwhelmed by the sudden irruption of the Federal cavalry, who, in an instant, spread themselves everywhere, plundering and ravaging. Mr. Anderson was arrested, and led across the street before one of their generals, who attempted to carry him through a harsh and unfeeling catechism concerning the move- ments of the retreating Confederates, and the routes of the country. He answered, with quiet dignity, that if they would observe him, his obvious infirmities, at least, would show them a reason why such information should not be demanded of him. Brutality itself could find no pretext to harrass such a victim, SAMUEL C ANDERSON. 487 and be was coldly dismissed. He returned to his dwelling to find it filled from garret to cellar, with a rabble of troopers, defiling and pilfering everything with their unclean hands. Seeing that corporeal resistance was simply mad, and that there was no spark of principle or compunction in such breasts, to which to appeal, he judged that his self-respect would be best consulted by perfect quiet. Where a righteous defense was impossible, he disdained to complain. But the insult, the un- utterable indignation, were too much for his tottering frame. He was soon no longer able to direct his steps, and betook him- self to his bed. Here he la}', with a quiet spirit, engaged in silent prayer, receiving the cares of his beloved wife and sis- ter with a tender and gushing thankfulness, still bidding them to be of good courage in their God. The neighborhood was so filled, and every house so beset, during all these days, with plunderers, that it was almost impossible for the few males out of the army, to leave their owm doors, to render the common offices of humanity to a neighbor. But the chivalrous women braved every inconvenience, and gave the needed assistance. On the next Tuesday, the news of General Lee's final surrender was brought to Mr. Anderson. This was, literally, the final blow to his feeble body. Thenceforward, the expectation and the desire of life were extinguished — he calmly said: "It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth to him good"; and, "Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." Yes. in peace! although the ruins of a fallen country were crashing around his dying bed. Thus, on Tuesday, the 18th of April, he calmly and devoutly committed his soul to God. gave up the ghost, and was gathered unto his fathers. A few days after (it was the very day that the pompous obsequies of Lincoln, and the popular phreusy were filling Washington City with tumult); a handful of his neighbors, with the pastors and elders, sadly and silently conveyed his venera- ble remains to their ri^sting placr at the (V)lh'ge Church. In peaceful times, his fellow citizens would have delighted to hon- or him with such a funeral cortege as country places had rarely witnessed. Now, there was none; the people had just been robbed of every "beast of burden; and the young men were eith- er in bloody graves, or in captivity, or fleeing before their ene- mies. But it is sufficient consolation to know, that the song 488 SAMUEL C. ANDEKSON. of the angels was not therefore the less rapturous, as his ran- somed spirit entered heaven's gates: and that the hallowed dust sleeps none the less safelv in the Redeemer's keeping, until the resurrection. To human apprehension, it would liaA'e been happy for Mr. Anderson to live until the deliverance of the eountrv he Loved so ardently was accomplished: and to render up his rejoicing spirit to (rod amidst peaceful liberty. But seeing it has been determined by his sovereign and awful Providence, that Vir- ginia should submit to bondage, the time of our friend's de- jtarture was most excellently chosen. He went away to the mightly dead with the vanishing glories of his country. The great Deliverer stepped in, and with his impemal sceptre, for- bade that any bonds should alight upon his free spirit. He had ever lived a freeman; and now he was forever enfranchised by death. How much are they to be envied, who having been made meet for "the inheritance of the saints in light,'' are per- mitted thus to receive the fulfillment of the i»rayer of Jackson: ''that we may not be required to survive the independence of our country.'' When the convulsions of the times permitted it, the most honorable testimonials to his memory were adopted by the Ses- sion of his church, the court and bar of Prince P^dward county, and the other public bodies with which he had been connected. WOMEN'S RIGHTS WOMEN.' In oui- day, innovations mareli with so rapid a stride tliat they qnite take away one's breath. The fantastical project of yesterday, which was mentioned only to be ridiculed, is to-day the audacious reform, and will be ta-niorrow the accomplished fact. Such has been the history of the agitation for ''women's rights," as they are sophistically called in this country. A few 3'ears ago this movement was the especial hobby of a few old women of both sexes, who made themselves the laughing-stock of all sane people by the annual ventilation of their crotchet. Their only recruits were a few of the unfortunates whom nature or fortune had debarred from tliDse triumphs and enjoyments which are the natural ambition of the sex, and wlio adopted this agitation as the most feasible mode of expressing their spitefulness against the successful competitors. To-day the movement has assumed such dimensions that it challenges the attention of every thoughtful mind. If we understand the claims of the Women's Rights wom- en, they are in substance two: that the legislation, at least, of society shall disregard all the natural distinctions of the sexes, and award the same specific rights and franchises to both in every respect; and that woman while in the married state shall be released from every species of conjugal subordination. The assimilation of the garments of the two sexes, their competition in the same industries and professions, and their common ac- cess to the same amusements and recreations, are social changes which the "strong-minded'' expect to work, each one for her- self, when once the obstructions of law are removed from the other points. One result of the reflection which we have been able to give this movement, is the conviction that it will prevail in the so-called ''I'nited States." This is foreshadowed ^j the frantic lust for innovation which has seized the body of the people like 1 From The Southern Magazine. 489 490 women's rights women. an epidemic. It is enough with them to condemn any institu- tion, that it was bequeathed us by our forefathers; because it is not tile invention of this age. it is wrong, of course. In their eyes no experience proves anything, save the experience which they have had themselves. They do not suppose that our fathers were wise enough to interpret and record the lessons of former experiences. That certain things did not succeed in our fore- fathers' hands is no proof that they will not succeed in ouri hands; for we are "cute." v^e live in an enlightened age. and un- derstand how to manage things successfully. The philosophy of the Yankee mind is precisely that of the Yankee girl who, when she asked for leave to marry at seventeen, was dissuaded by her mother that she ''had married very early and had seen the folly of it." "Yes; but. Mamma." replied the daughter, "I want to see the folly of it far myself." Your Yankee philosopher is too self-sufficient to be cautioned from the past. He does not know history; he would not believe its conclusions if he did; he has no use for its lights, hiiving enough "subjective'' light of his own. To such a people the fact that a given experiment is too absurd to have been ever tried before, is an irresistible fascination: it is a chance not to be neglected. The symptoms of approaching success which already ex- ist are such as may well cheer the advocates of the new revo- lution. They who a few years ago counted their adherents by scores, now have tens of thousands. They are represented by their own press. They have received the support of at least one religious journal, which presumes to call itself Christian and is the organ of a numerous denomination — the Ne7v York Independent. They receive the obsequious homage of the dema- gogues of the day. They have already engrafted a part of their ideas upon some ?>tate constitutions. Their apostles are in- vited to lecture before "Christian Associations" (of that peculiar kind which enumerate billiard and card-tables among the means of grace), and before the United States Congress. And last, a kindred cause, that of indiscriminate divorces, is making such progress in many of the States that it will soon be able to lend a strong helping-hand to its sister. Now it is by just such steps that Radicalism grew from its despised infancy in this country. It was just thus that Abolitionism grew. It is thus that all women's rights women. 491 things grow on the American soil which ripen tlieir harvests of exil. The advocates of these "women's rights" may be expected to win the day, because the premises from which they argue their revolution have been irrevocably admitted by the bulk of the people. Now this popular mind may not be consciously or intentionally consistent and logical. It may jump to many con- clusions without much analysis of the steps by which they are reached. It may deliberately harbor the most express purpose to be guilty of any logical inconsistency, however outrageous, in pursuing its supposed interests ; and may have its mind ever so clearly made up to eat its own words and principles whenever its convenience prompts that measure. But still the Creator has made man, in spite of himself, a logical animal; and conse- quences will work themselves out, whether he designs it or not, to those results which the premises dictate. History will write out the corollaries of the theorems whether the projec- tors wish to stop for them or not. Now, false principles are al- ready firmly planted from which the whole "Women's Rights"' claim must follow. If we look at the coarser, more concrete, and popular fonn in which the consequence is drawn, we find the argument for the popular. Radical mind perfectly unan- swerable. "It has been decided that all negro men have a right to vote: is nolitical life will be diffused throughout the sex. What those influences >\ ill be may be learned by every one who reverences the Christian Scriptures, from this fact, that the theory of "Women's Kights'' is sheer infidelity. It directly impugns the authority and the justice of these Scriptures. They speak in na uncertain tones. "The husband is the head of the wife" (Eph. V. 23). "Wives, submit yourselves to your own hus- ■'bands, as to the Lord" (v. 22). "The 'man is not for the woman, but the woman for the man" (I. Cor. ii. 9). "Let the woman learn in silence, with all subjection: but I suft'er not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence: for Adam was first formed, then Eve: and Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the trans^ gression" (I. Tim. 2: 11-14). They are to be "discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands," etc. (Titus ii. 5). How utterly opposed is all this to the levelling doctrine of your Radical. Women are here consigned to a social subordination, and ex- pressly excluded from ruling offices, on grounds of their isex, and a divine ordination based by God upon a transac- tion which happened nearly six thousand years ago! The wom- an's sphere is expressly assigned her within her home, and she is taught that the assumption of publicity is an outrage against that nature with which she is endowed. Xow the politics which denounce all this as a natural injustice and self-evident folly cannot be expected to reverence these Scriptures; they must and will flout their whole authority. We must then make up our minds in accepting \\'()men's Kights to surrender our Bibles, and have an atheistic (Jovernment. And especially must we ex- pect to have, presiding over every home and rearing every group of future citizens, that most abhorrent of all phenomena, an infidel woman; for of course that sex, having received the precious boon of their enfranchisement only by means of the 500 women's rights women overthrow of the Bible, must be foremost in trampling upon this their old oppressor and enemy. Its restoration to author- ity is necessarily their "re-enslavement," to speak the language of their party. Second: these new excitements and temptations will utter- ly corrupt the character and delicacy of American women. It is indignantly asked. ''Why should politics corrupt the morals of women more than of the 'lords of creation'?'' Suppose now we reply: American politics have corrupted the morals of the men? Suppose we argue that the retort is so true and just and the result has actually gone to so deplorable an extent, that were the female side of our social organization as corrupt as the male side has already become, American society would crumble into ruin by its own putrescence? It is better to save half the fabric than to lose all. And especially is it better to save the purity of the mothers who are, under G-od, to form the characters of our future citizens, and of the wives who are to restrain and elevate them, whatever else we endanger. Is it argued that since women are now confessedly purer than men, their entrance into politics must tend to purify politics? We reply again that the women of the present were reared and at- tained this comparative purity under the Bible system. Adopt the infidel plan, and we shall corrupt our women without puri- fying our politics. What shall save us then? But there is another reply to this retort. Political excite- ments will corrupt women tenfold more than men; and this, not because women are naturally inferior to men, but because they are naturally adapted to a wholly different sphere. When we point to the fact that they are naturally more emotional and less calculating, more impulsive and less self-contained, that they have a quicker tact but less logic, that their" social nature makes them more liable to the contagion of epidemic passions, and that the duties of their sex make it physically impossible for them to acquire the knowledge in a foreign sphere necessary for political duties, we do not depreciate woman; we only say that nature has adapted her to one thing and disqualified her for the other. The violet would wither in that full glare of mid- summer in which the sunflower thrives: this does not argue that the violet is the meaner flower. The vine, left to stand alone, would be hurled prone in the mire by the first blasts of that history. In the case of the Amorites there was also this wise THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 501 wind which strengthens the grasp of the sturdy oak upon its bed: still the oak m.a\ yield no fruit so precious as the clusters of the yiue. But the yine cannat be an oak; it must "be itself, dependent, clinging, but more precious than that on which it leans or it must perish. When anything, animate or inanimate, is used for a function to which it is not adapted, that foreign use must endamage it, and the more the farther that function is from its own sphere. So it will be found (and it is no dis- paragement tD woman to say it) that the very traits which fit her to be the angel of a virtuous home unfit her to meet the agitations of political life, even as safely as does the more rugged man. The hot glare of publicity and passion will speed- ily deflower her delicacy and sweetness. Those temptations, which her Malipr did not farm her to bear, will debauch her heart, developing a character as much more repulsive than that of the debauched man as the fall has been greater. The politi- cating woman, unsexed and denaturalized, shorn of the true glory of her femininity, will appear to men as a feeble hybrid mauuikin, with all the defects and none of the strength of the male. Instead of being the dear object of his chivalrDus affec- tion, she becomes his importunate rival, despised without being feared. This suggests a third consequence, which some of the ad- vocates of the movement even already are bold enough to fore- shadDw. "Women's Eights"' mean the abolition of all per- manent marriage ties. We are told that Mrs. Cady Stanton avowed this result, proclaiming it at the invitation of the Young Men's Christian Association of New York. She holds that woman's bondage is not truly dissolved until the marriage bond is annulled. She is thjroughly consistent. Some hoodwinked advocates of her reyolution may ^be blind to the sequence; but it is inevitable. It must follow- by this cause, if for no other, that the unsexed politicating woman can never inspire in man that true affection on whirli marriage should be founded. Men will doubtless be still sensual; but it is simply impossible that they can desire them for the pure and sacred sphere of the wife. Let every woman ask herself: will she choose for the lord of her affections an unsexed effeminate man? No more can man be drawn to the masculine woman. The mutual attraction of the two complementary halves is gone forever. The abolition 502 women's rights womex of marriage would follow again bj another cause. The diver- gent interests and the rival independence of the two equal wills would be irreconcilable with domestic government, or union, or peace. 8hall the children of this monstraus uo-union be held responsible to two variant co-ordinate and supreme wills at once? Heaven pity the children I Shall the two parties to this perpetual co-partnership have neither the power to secure the performance of the mutual duties nor ta dissolve it? It is a self-contradiction, an impossible absurdity. Such a co-part- nership of equals with independent interests must be separable at will, as all other such co-partnerships are. The only rela- tion between the sexes which will remain will be a cohabitation continuing so long as the convenience or caprice of both par- ties may suggest; and this, with most, will amount to a vagrant concubinage. But now, what will be the character of the children reared under sucli a domestic organization as this? If human exper- ience has established anything at all. it is the truth of that prin- ciple announced by the Hebrew prophet when he declared that the great aim of God in ordaining a permanent marriage tie be- tween one man and one woman was '*that He might seek a godly seed." (rod's ordinance, the only effective human ordinance for checking and curbing- the first tendencies to evil, is domestic, parental government. When the family shall no longer have a head, and the great foundation for the subordination of chil- dren in the mother's example is gone; when the mother shall have found another sphere than her home for her energies; when she shall have exchanged the sweet charities of domestic love and sympathy for the fierce passions of the hustings; when families shall be disrupted at the caprice of either party, and the children scattered as foundlings from their hearthstone,— it requires no wisdom to see that a race of sous will be reared nearer akin to devils than to men. In the hands of such a ba:s- tard progeny, without discipline, without homes, without a Ood, the last remains of social order will speedily perish, and society will be overwhelmed in savage anarchy. Last: it would not be hard to show, did space permit, that this movement on the part of these women is as suicidal as it is mischievous. Its certain result will be the re-enslavement of women, not under the Scriptural bonds of marriage, but under women's rights women. 508 the yoke of literal corporeal force. The woman who will calm- ly review tlic coudition of her sex in other ages and countries will feel that her wisdom is to "let well enough alone." Physi- cally, the female is the "weaker vessel." This world is a hard and selfish scene where the weaker goes to the wall. Under all other civilizations and all other religions than ours woman has experienced this fate to the full; her condition has been that of a slave to the male — sometimes a petted slave. which his philosophy would lead him; bur he dare not accept it. He knows that the virtuous ti'aveler is detained in spite of his in- nocence; but the felon is detained because of his guilt. He who says that the natural evils incui-red by misconduct are not penalties, but mere consequences, ought also t ) say that evils which society, itself a natural institution, inflicts on criminals are al&o mere consequences, and not just penalties. liut against this every conscience revolts. Our second point of objection is: tliat Oolonel IngersolTs doctrine a'bout natural evils, if true, would be unspeakably harsher and moi'c it^ipulsive than tlie ( 'liristian doctrine, wliich lie thinks too harsh to be endured. For, flrst, it places us er- ring mortals not under the dominion of a righteous personal will, which is also wise, benevolent, and merciful, but under the rule of invariable natural laws. Under these, the evils which men experience, saith lie, are not penalties, but mere conse- quences. Niow a cade wliicli has no penalties of course has no pardons. There is no room in it for the conception of forgive- ness. It tells a suffering transgressor tliat. when once his mis- take is made, his suffering must be as inevitable as the attrac- tion of gravitation or the rotation ;)f the earth. Can mere na- tural law hear a prayer? Does it understand repentance? Can it feel pity? Ask the ocean storm or the devouring fire these questions. Here truly we have humanity with a vengeance I The skeptic is too humane to endure the concei:)tion of penal chastisement directed by a personal (lod, who is botli just and merciful; and to help matters, he proposes lo consign his fellow- creatures to the iron and remorseless dominion of natural law, which is equally ignorant of repentanc(\ mercy, and forgive- ness. But, he says, let the erring man reform his mistake, and thereby he will emerge from the painful conseut I will use in dealing with them a candor they do not employ in oppo.sing us. I will state the ditticulties which at- tend (jod's jiermission of evil frankly, and with all the force which even the ablest objector can claim for them. The theistic scheme professes to demonstrate the existence, attributes, and providence of God. It says that he is self-exist- ent and the creator of all temporal beings; that he is absolutely supreme in authority; that he is of infinite knowledge and pow- er; that he is perfectly holy, and must therefore prefer holi- ness to sin in all rational creatures; and that he is infinitely benevolent as well as just. The argument is, that it is incredi- ble such a divine sovereign should freely choose the prevalence of evil in the kingdom which he made and absolutely governs, and-.especially that dreadful aggregate of remediless evil em- bodied in his hell. But if he is incapable of freely choosing such horrors they should have no ])lace in his kingdom; since his knowledge and prescience are infinite, and his will effica- cious and sovereign in his whole providence. Amidst this cir- ple of attributes, it is urged, it ought to be impossible that hell THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 521 should find a place, not to speak of the lesser evils of our mor- tal state. The Christian apologists have been wont to offer these jjalliations: That while all these are real evils, and so repugnant in themselves to the divine nature, we actually see them made in his providence the occasions of excellent results and beautiful virtues. Evil evokes the virtue of fortitude, which would be 3ther\vise not energized. Evil trains the soul to pa- tience, submission, and heavenly-mindedness. Suffering is necessary to evoke the lovely virtue of sympathy. Hence we may hold that a benevolent God permissively ordains the evil, not for its own sake, but for the sake of those results which it occasions. This palliation our oppugners sweep aside with dis- dain. They say if your God is omnipotent, he is certainly able to W'ork all these admirable results by painless means. If he is benevolent, as you say. he must have chosen the easy means instead of the bitter, because he would thus have realized the whole aggregate of good and virtue for liis kingd3m. minus the miseries of the present plan. They confirm this point by re- minding the Christians that, according to them, there actually is a splendid order of moral creatures for whom God has done this yerj thing. The virtue and bliss of Gabriel are certainly not inferior to those promised redeemed men; for their ^proto- type ^'was made a little bwer than the angels." And the ut- most tlie Christian's Jesus dares to promise is that his re- deemed shall be as angelloi. Here, then, they urge, is a whole world of hapi>y and holy creatures, endowed with every de- sirable virtue, including sympathy and fortitude, and yet with- out any disiipline of evil. Here. then. God has actually done the thing for them without the permission of evil; why djes he not do the same thing for human creatures in the same way? Thus the caviller ''refuses to be comforted" by any such i»al- liation as this. Let us pause here and weigh this rejtly care- fully. To what extent does it really damage the theodicy ad- vanced? I candidly admit, that it does prove this class of jkiI- liations to be insufficient as a full solution of the difficulty. But I assert that the skeptic's position here is overweening and sophistical in this: when he so ingeniously cites to us the fact that God does cultivate in the elect angels, as free agents, a complete bliss and purity without the discipline of evil, he cun- ningly begs the question, whether God could succeed in this, 522 THE LATEST IISTFIDELITY. not only without evil among tliem, but without evil anj'where in the universe. What mortal can certainly know but that one of the means whic-h God found necessary in the training of the elect angels, was some Avholesome example of sutferiug for sin among some other order af free agents? But unless the skeptic can certify us about this, his instance remains inconclusive. It is more important to remark, that the facts cited in the above theodicy do give us a pleasing probability, which points in the direction of God's consistency in the permission of evil. For the beautiful feature which is common in the results cited is that we here see providence bringing good out of the evil. That fact is undeniable. Does the skeptic rejoin, ''Yes, but why didn't your God bring about the whole good, minus the evil?" I grant that this solemn question is not answered. But let it be allowed for a moment, and for argument's sake, that God may see a good reason, then the fact that he does bring good out of the permitted evil will be of invaluable force to reinstate our confidence in liis infinite benevolence in the midst of the un- solved mystery. We proceed now to the next advance in the argument of the theodicy. The theologians set up these unquestionable premises. There is no natural evil in the universe which is not the result and penalty of moral evil, that is to say, of sin. God's higher glory is to be a moral governor of rational free agents. If the creatures are to remain such they must be governed by moral inducements. Should God depart from that method he would derationalize them and reduce them to the grade of brutes. Does any skeptic desire to see that done, and the crea- tion stripped of its noblest order? Surely not. It follows, then, that God, in leaving men their free agency, must follow out punctually this plan of moral sanctions; and if his creatures choose to sin, he must needs allow the penalty to follow with the same regularity with which his rewards follow their vir- tues. Moreover, God's distributive righteousness not only jus- tifies, but requires this course from him as a moral ruler; as the chief magistrate of the universe he is actually under moral obligations to his own perfections to be impartial, even if wilful transgressors do incur deserved miseries which his benevolence wonld fain see them escape. And this view is powerfully rein- forced by the further fact, that the larger part of the penal THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 523 evils that follow transgression have not only a judicial con- nection, but a necessary natural connection with their sins, that, namely, of effects with their efficient causes. There is a true sense in which it is not Clod that volunteers to punish sin, but it is sin which punishes itself. "He that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption"' (literally perdition. ''Sin when it is finished brinjieth forth death." To sum up, then, God's permission of natural evil in the world is all accounted for by the presence of moral evil, that is to ;say. voluntary transgression, and the entrance of the moral evil is an incident liable to emerge under any moral government af free agents. Still our skeptics '^refuse to be comforted." They retort, that the Christian scheme ascribes to God regenerative power; and that it holds that he can, and does, exercise it in a multitude ■of cases, without infringing the free agency of its subjects, or making any disruption in his general plan of governing tliem by rational and moral means. If the Christian's scheme relin- quished this claim it would commit logical suicide. For it holds that the natural heart of men fallen in Adam is invariably de- termined to self-will and ungodliness; hence if God did not ex- ercise a sovereign power of renegeratlon. he coiild never get une of them converted. They would all continue with absolute cer- taint}' to prefer the unconverted state. The scheme also claims that God has pledged himself to keep all redeemed men and elect angels in their heaven forever. But the voluntary apos- tasy of any of them must result in their exclusion from heaven. Now, therefore, if God had not the power of efficaciously de- termining their holiness without subverting their free agency, he has promised wliat he cannot be sure of performing, which would be dishonest. Once more; the Christian scheme says, that the promises of grace in answer to prayer are all yea and amen. So that if God had not this power these promises would also be uncandid. Now. then, since God has this power of pre- serving the sanctity of the unfallen, and of sovereignly regen- erating the fallen (a power which they -say he frequently exer- cises), and if he foresaw that whenever a free agent perverted himself, his 3wu high judicial obligations would require him to bring misery on that creature, if he is infinitely benevolent, and truly prefers holiness to sinfulness in his creatures, why did he not preserve them all in holiness as he is said to have preserved 524 THE LATEST INFIDELITY. Gabriel? Or why does he uot regenerate tliem at once instead of ("oming under this painful necessity of employing penal mis- eries, which he foresees, moreover, to be futile fjr curing their sinfulness? Why does he not regenerate Satan instead of chas- tising him endlessly, and that without bettering him? Here is a parent who has a delicate child; he foresees that this child is liable to eat a certain rich but unwholesome viand with a mor- bid appetite; he foresees also that the consequences will be a colic. N »\v. tliis jiarent may be entirely unable to break the pathological connection between a surfeit and a colic; but of course he will use his superior physical strength to remove that dish beyond the child's reach. If God is a parent, why does he not act in a similar way? I take the ablest skeptics to witness that I have extenuated nothing, but have stated their difficulty as strongly as they ever state it. There is here salemn difficulty arising from our contempla- tion of the divine providence, and the thoughtful and benevo- lent mind will recognize it most impressively. I expres&ly ad- mit also that its exhaustive solution is beyond human reach. The dread mystery which remains after all the efforts of human exiplanation is doubtless one instance of the exercise of that high prerogative of God in which he claims that secret things belong to him, but the things which are revealed belong to us and our children that we may do all the words of this law. If once the existence and attributes of God are granted, then ev- ery mind not wickedly and insanely arrogant will instantly ad- mit tliat it is reas )nable such a sovereign should liave counsels of his own. a part of which it is his just prerogative to reserve to himself. There is not an inferior chief magistrate on earth tliat does uot claim a right to the same. Moreover, it is impos- sible that God should impart a full eomprehensi:^ of his whole counsel to any mind that is finite and sinful, even if we sup- posed liim to make the effort. Omnipotence itself could not put an ocean of water into a quart pitcher. Hut because God has not succeeded in working this impossibility in the agnostic's little clouded mind he flies off in a pet, and says he will not have any God at all '. If theism is true, the plan of God's admin- istration is universal and everlasting. It must, therofore, be literally infinite. Manifestly even he cannot put another iuind in full possession of it without making that mind also infinite. THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 5'?5 Whence it strictly follows that if these questioners could be gratified by giving them a religion without a mystery, verily they "should be as gods." (The Bible reader knows the satanic origin of that ambition.) This simple argument for modesty of thought in our theology is powerfnlly reinforced by another great fact, which is, that our acquaintance with all other sci- ences is conditioned and limited in precisely the same way. And every intelligent man knows that this is especially true of those physical sciences which the agnostics love to put in contrast with theology for superior clearness and certitude. I would like to know how it is that they are all perfectly willing to be- lieve in the sciences of phjsics, chemistr^^, botany, zoology, as- tronomy, notwithstanding the insoluble mysteries involved in each, and refuse theism because of its mystery, when they ought to know that this is the very science in which the largest mys- teries must reasonably be expected. Is it because they have a special dislike to the God whom theism discloses, sharpened by the apprehension that he has a just dislike for them? Let it be settled, then, that the real question in debate is not whether anybody can clear up the whole mystery of God's per- mission of evil, but whether that mystery justifies anybody in repudiating his heavenly Father, and all the duties he owes to him, which are the highest and holiest duties of his being. Next, it must be settled which party is logically' bound to assume the burden of proof on this question. I shall now show that it is the aginostic's. For why? Because the theist is in IJossession of all the rightful presumptive probabilities on the other side. The law gives every indicted man the right to as- sume his presumptive innocency, and throws the burden of the proof of his guilt upon the accuser. So here the facts pre- viously demonstrated, or at least rendered presumably prob- able in this theistic in(|uiry, all give the theist the right to the initial presumptive. For instance, "the earth is full of the good- ness of the Lord," that is, the a posteriori marks or signs of the divine benevolence appear in every department of creation and human experience. The whole structui-e of the human faculties presents the most beautiful evidences of the benevol- ence of "the Father of our spirits." Here is one point among many: The psychologist finds in the human spirit a class of affections called the malevolent affections, that is, their prac- 526 THE LATEST INFIDELITY. tical objective impulse is to liurt somebody; but they all have this invariable trait in addition — even the few among them which are sometimes justifiable — that they are also painful to the person that feels them. There is a large opposite class call- ed the benevolent affections; their objective impulse is to do good to somebody, and these have this invariable trait, thai they are pleasant in their exercise to the persons who feel them. He is wilfully blind who cannot see the design of this pair of general facts. It is obviously to discourage and limit all hurt- ful human actions, and to stimulate and reward all beneficent human actions. In other words, the franier of our spirits is be uevolent. But the most extensive and grandest disclosure the- ism makes about God is of his righteousness, jiind that both in natural and revealed theology. The ways of providence are always so devised that virtue is practical beneficence, and vice 'practical maleficence. Therefore when theology tell us that God likes the former and hates the latter more than he likes or hates anything else, it is but saying he is supremely benevolent. But we must not pursue this delightful line of argument. Another great class of facts which authorize us to throw the burden of proof upon the accusers of God's providence, is that while he mysteriously permits evils, it is his dearest pre- rogative to bring good out of those evils. Are we to hold, then, that God's mysterious permission of evil has in his mind some sufficient ground, both just and benevolent, though above the reach of human comprehension'/ I say. Yes. Colonel lugersoll saj-s, Xo. Here is the issue clearly made up by the jjleadings. Xow I say I am entitled to hold my side as presumptively true until it is positively disproved. I say the burden of proof lies on him. He must assume it or the court will properly dismiss the case. The court says to him: "Mr. Prosecutor, you undertake to prove that an infinite God cannot have a conscious ground for his voluntary permission of evil in his kingdom which satisfies him as both just and benevolent. You must do all that, sir, or we will put you out of court. Your opponent, the theist, is under no more obligation to prove what that ground is than a citizen indicted for horse-stealing is bound to prove affirm- atively that he did not steal the horse. He is entitled to stand on the defensive; the prosecutor must prove that he did steal the horse or he has no case. Sir, your duty here is similar." THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 527 But what sort of testimony will this accuser need iu order to prove that atfirmative? ^Mauifestlv it must be a testimony which explores the whole extent of God's omniscience, and his whole eternal providence toward the universe; otherwise it will be a dead failure; for the defense will rejoin, that it is sup- posable alwaj's that God has seen his sufficient reason fur his permission of evil in that portion of his infinite counsel and providence left unexplored by the witness. The accuser has as yet done nothing etTectual to exclude the presumptive hyp )i he- sis that God may be justifiable; but this is what he undertook to do. He will say, perhaps, that his witnesses have proved so much namely: that God has full physical power to make and keep all his creatures holy and happy, so that he cannot justify himself in his permission of evil (as the Pelagian proposes he shall), by the plea of inability. Let the accuser say that God did not find the obstacle in the way of making his universe all holy and happy in a lack of personal power. Granted. But. may not his infinite mind have seen a proper obstacle in some other quarter? That is the question. The man who under- takes to deny that ought to be omniscient himself. In other words, the accuser has undertaken an impossible task. He has rashly undertaken to establish affirmatively a proposition which none but infinite beings would be competent to discuss. The decree of the court therefore is, ''The indictment is not proved."' To this extent, then, the providence of God is not convicted of wrong. I again admit candidly that its solemn mystery re- mains, and a questioning mind is not yet furnished with an ex- haustive solution. There is a species of argutntnium ad hominem, which, the books on logic tell us, is unfair. It consists iu attempting to transfer some odium attaching to the adversary from his person to his proposition and argument. I shall not use that form. There is another kind which consists in holding the opponent bound to any inconvenient or absurd consequences which pro- ceed logically out of his positions, though we ourselves do not concede those positions. This kind is perfectly fair. The Sa- viour himself used it against the Pharisees. I am entitled to use it in this debate. In this direction my first point is the following: The prac- tical point of the cavil against God's permission of evil is, that, 528 THE LATEST INFIDELITY. if there is a God, he is culpable for it. He i.s exceediii«»ly hlaui- able far all tlii.s misery which should have been prevented by him. That is to say, the caviller is altoji'ether in sympathy with these creature sufferers as against their hard master. Of course, ihcn, this humane and sympathizing caviller is doing everything- in his power to minimize the hardships so blamably inflicted upon his fellow-creatures. Of course he is steadily devoting his best energies, his time, talents, and money, to repairing the cruelties which this bad God has let loose upon po;)r fellow- mortals, to comforting the sorrowful, to supplying their desti- tutions, and especially to removing their ignorance and vices ;in(l irrcligion, which he knows to be the pracrical j)roxiniate cause of so much of these pitiable sorrows. Of course this just accuser thinks he has no money to waste upon the pomps and luxuries of life, no time for any needless amusements, no time or talent ta expend upon personal ambitions or any selfish aim. Of course he husbands all conscientiously for the sacred object of minimizing these evils of human existence, and mending so much as may be mended of the neglects of this cruel God. If he does not, is he not himself like the cruel God? Is not this accusation of (xod, coming from such as he. too much like "Satan reproving sin?'' Does this agnostic waste any money upon Havana cigars and costly wines, which he would be better without ; upon expensive architecture and furniture, where he sees more honored men than himself do with plainer; upon par- tisan political campaigns, which, whichever way they go, only leave the country more corrupt — sacred moneA' which might have been used to ease the sick of their agonies, to feed the starving, to wipe the tears from the face of the orphan, to make the desolate widow's heart sing for joy, to dissipate the ignor- ance and vice and ungodliness from the heart of the yauth wlio must otherwise reap the harvest of temporal perdition from these seeds? I bring no charge; but I submit that, unless the agnostic is truly acting in this i)hilanthropic way, decency should close liis mouth. For shame's sake let him not blame God for the results of a neglect which he himself practices. The most probable rejoinder of the agnostic will be, that he sees the majority of the professed Christians also practicing this unphilanthropic neglect. My answer is, that I admit with sorrow that it is partly true. It is also true that nearly all the The latest infidelity. 521) great and blessed charities of this poor world come from these imperfect Christians. How much of them comes from agnos- tics? I do not know. But let that pass. My w'ord to the agnos- tic is this: sujjpose we let this good exalted God alone, and turn all the blows of our criticisms on these inconsistent Cliiistians. I sa}' to the agnostic, with all m\' heart, "Lay it on them well; but let alone the heavenly Father whom they misrepresent." My second point is this: When we showed in defense of the divine providence that, supposing free agents choose to sin, their suffering ought to follow, and must follow, because judi- cial fidelity requires it, and because sin is suffering; the reply of the agnostic was this: that if there is a God, he must have foreseen that, and he ought to have felt bound to protect his moral creatures from sinning by making their souls holy, or else regenerating them when they made themselves unholy. And we saw that this is really the agnostic's final stand in this contest. I will' now ask a typical agnostic, say Colonel Inger- soll, "Sir, how 'would you like God to regenerate you?" Per- haps he will seek to evade me by answering, "But I do not now believe there is any God or regeneration." "Yes; but suppos- ing you did believe them, how would you like to be regenerated 3-ourself? *Stay, do not answer till I tell you what this means. Regeneration means a complete revolution of the principles and ends of life. It means surrendering ambition and worldinesss for spiritual good. It means the absolute subjugation of self- will under a superior and sovereign will, which will order you to obey and ask no questions. It means a thoroughgoing cru- cifixion of natural pride. It means the instant surrender of all cherished sins. It means the honest assumption for the whole remaining life of a career of new duties, many of which are known to be repugnant, and all arduous. It means praying, and Bible-reading, and watching one's self. It means, in a word, taking up for life the yoke of a complete self-denial and self- surrender. Regenerate persons will tell you that still they have found a new species of spiritual happiness in this arduous cross-bearing. But that pleasure is to you purely visionary, as you never felt anything like it. The Bible also tells you that this regeneration will finally bring you, after a severe disci- pline, the happiness of heaven. But that is all out of sight to you, lying beyond the boundaries of this world, which now en- 530 THE LATEST INFIDELITY. close all your wishes and aspirations — so completely enclose them that you remain in doubt whether it would not be better for you to die like a pig than to have any future world. Now, Sir, you told us there was a time when you had a speculative be- lief in Ood and his gospel. At that time how would you have liked this regeneration for yourself? You know very well that you disliked and resisted it with every fibre ,of your heart. Sometimes when conscience seemed to be leading you towards it, you recalcitrated, silently perhaps, but with the stubbornness 'Of a w'ild bull in a net. You jealously cherished your self-will, your pride, your worldliness. You would have blushed to have been caught praying. One chief source of that secret but in- veterate enmity which your heart cherished toward the gospel was just this: that it required of you such a regeneration and also offered it to you as a boon. Well, you are the same man yet in heart. The child has been father to the man. Could I re-convince your speculative intellect that thi/S gospel which you have discarded is true, the desperate repugnance to its re- generation would doubtless revive in you. Kemember, now, that we have agreed that there was one final method feasible for God, by using which he could have rescued all his creatures effectually from all moral and physical evil, namely, the regen- eration I have described; and the very gravamen of your accu- sation against God is that he ought to employ that method in every case, but does not. But, lo! when this kind God comes to you and says, 'Ingersoll, let me take you at your w^ord; let me regenerate you, here and now, and thus bestow on you this glorious and eternal security,' you are violently opposed to his doing it. Here is the one and only way which remained to God for avoiding the permission of any evil in his kingdom, and to this way you have as to yourself a violent objection. There is one medicine with which God could have cured the whole mat- ter. You have been blaming him vehemently because he has not administered it to everybody; but when he offers the cup to you, you repel it with abhorrence. Do not you think. Sir, that for shame's sake it is time for you to stop blaming him?" I have just asserted the innate enmity of the human heart to God's law. Here is a consideration which has a vital influ- ence on this discussion, but for which agnostics never make allowance. Yet, ^'whether they will hear, or whether they will THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 531 forbear," it is the right of the Christian pursuing this discus- sion, and his high duty, to bear his serious testimony to this indisputable fact of human nature. The point it contains is very plain, that a person who has a fixed and wrongful hatred to a government cannot be a just and correct critic of it. Wliat man endued with common sense will gainsa}- that? And the agnostics stubbornly refuse this caution and protest their im- partiality, when to everybody else but themselves their invet- erate hostility to the holiness of God's law is apparent! But I claim mare. We are all voluntary culprits. We are all obnox ious to the displeasure of the divine Judge. If his grace does not arrest us we all continue pertinacious transgressors, and this justifies his continued retributions. Now, ever}' item of that aggregate of misery which presents the pretext of the cavil, is the just judicial consequence of the creature's own voluntary sin. There is not a pang of natural evil in the moral universe which is not the appropriate fruit of transgression. Hence, however hard to bear that natural evil may be, the culprits are certainly not the parties that are entitled to accuse the govern- ment. As soon as they appreciate their own guilt they always learn that this is outrageously unseemly. If any criticism of the divine management is to be made by any finite intellect, it ought to be at least an unfallen intellect, without sin of its own. The effectual way, then, of terminating these indict- ments of God would be for the agnostics to learn the real qual- ity and aggravations of their own sins of heart, nature, and life. And could I teach them this, I should be conferring on them the most inestimable blessing. Not only would this sinful de- bate end absolutely, but this righteous humiliation of their own spirits would prove to them the beginning of everlasting good. Job was tempted to be an agnostic, and to make tedious efforts to argue himself into the assertion of God's harshness. His ef- fectual cure came only when he was compelled to say: "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth thee; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." The best wish I can otfer to all the agnostics is, that they may become honest enough with themselves to look fairly at God until they appreciate his infinite sovereignty, wis- dom, justice, and benevolence, and learn in the light of his holi- ness to see the exceeding sinfulness of their own sin. All this 582 THE LATEST INFIDELITY. debate will then be happily ended for tliem as well as for us. One more point remains of this branch of my reply. I make it by asking them what will be gained for them and their fel- low-men if they establish their indictment? What will they have proved? This: that the theistic scheme of the universe is incredible, because of the prevalence in it of this dreadful mass of natural and moral evil. That is, the doctrine of a personal, rational God is abolished. What hypothesis of the universe is left us? Only the materialistic and mechanical one. The flow of events in the universe is not directed by any personal or moral will at all. (Certainly our wills are impotent to control it.) All is governed by natural laws, which can mean nothing more than the irrevocable methods of blind natural forces. These forces are unknowing and reasonless; they are resistless; they are eternal; they are unchangeable. They can no more be prayed to than the whirlwind can. Thus the agnostic, in re- jecting theism, unavoidably gives us the scheme of a universal mechanical fate. His universe is but an immense machine. Now, I solemnly ask him: By forcing upon us this ghastly doctrine, has he diminished one iota of this volume of miseries, the conception of which so distresses us all? Does he stop the flow of a single tear? Does he arrest a single pang of disease? Does he diminish by one unit the awful catalogue of deaths? Does he take anything from the reality of any single human bereavement? Is there one particle of agency in this doctrine to check in any soul that sinfulness which is the spring of all our woes? None. Even agnostic arrogance does not dare to claim it. On his scheme every evil which he so bitterly objects against Grod's scheme remains. All that he has done is to rob sufi'ering humanity of its sole true consolation, which is found in that fact the gospel alone shows us, that it is the darling prerogative of the Father of mercies to bring good out of this sore evil for all who will accept his grace and make it work out, bitter as it may be now, "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Thus their doctrine can take nothing from the miseries of mankind; all it can do is to rob men of the only possible solace, and to tell them while they suffer that their woes are as futile of better results as they are inevitable. In a word, they give us as the true conception of our existence this somber picture, which F. D. Strauss substantially avows at the THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 533 end of his great agnostic argument. Our world is a huge and terrible machine of stone and iron; its motive jiower eternal, resistless, and blind; its revolutions impossible to be ever ar- rested or changed in the least, and the corn between its upper and nether millstones is an ever-flowing stream of human hearts, with all their precious affections and hopes and keen sensibilities, bleeding and crushed under the remorseless grind. And to the yawning jaws of this hellish mill each one of us knows he is traveling, and must be caught by them sooner or later. And this is the scheme pressed upan us by gentlemen who affect too much humane sensibility to endure the harsh injustice of God's gospel! What, is this scheme rejected for this doc- trine of despair? I repeat, it is the one which, while it recog- nizes God's holy sovereignty and right to punish sin, and to keep in his own breast the dread secrets of his infinite purpose, teaches us his wise, merciful, and holy control over this terrible blind machine of nature, and offers to all who do not contuma- ciously reject his goodness an almighty redemption which ter- minates these sufferings of time into eternal blessings. May God save us all from such humanity as that of the agnostics I Proceeding now to a more independent line of attack. I re- quest the reader to inspect the process of the agnostic's logic at its cardinal place. It is simply thisr the line of argument for the being, attributes, and providence of God leads him up to a great mystery, which cannot be fully resolved for him. What then? He will stop and weigh the amount of validity it may contain, notwithstanding the mystery in its conclusion. Now, all men would deem this mere logical lunacy if applied to any other line of evidence. We know very well that evidence ap- parently valid which leads to an inevitable self-contradiction is defeated by its own result, whether we can put our finger upon its flaw or not. We justly claim that it cannot be correct. This, in fact, is the quality of the disi»roof of an argument by the re- ductio ad absurdum. But manifestly the case which the agnos- tic has made against theism is wholly different. A mystery in our conclusion is not a necessary self-contradiction; that it can- not be shown to be such, follows from the very fact that it is a mystery. Since we cannot comprehend it, we cannot assert its contradictoriness. And this I confirm by the assertion that ev- 534 THE LATEST INFIDELITY. cvy other Hue of scientific evidence, in every department of hu- man Ivnowledge, leads sooner or later to some such insoluble mj^stery. So that, if the agnostic's method of procedure against theism were proper, he ought to reject every science known to man and announce himself an absolute ignoramus. For instance, what physicist can answer this question: What is electricity? There is good and sufficient empirical evi- dence that this mysterious energy exists; but what is it? Why does it imbue some material bodies and not others? Why do only a few conduct it fully? If it is ponderable matter, why cannot the chemist weigh it in his most delicate scales? If it is not, how does it hit hard enough to rive the gnarled oak? Every good physicist knows he cannot answer these questions. Every agnostic, then, ought to say, if he will be consistent, and proceed in physics as he does in theology, "I will have none of this science of electricity. I will not avail myself of its con- veniences, lightning-rod, telegraph, electric light, electric mo- tors. I will not believe in electricity; even if the lightning strikes me I will not believe in it." The intelligent reader knows that if I cared to detain him, I could cite instances equal- ly pungent from every one of those physical sciences which ag- nostics love to place in contrast with theology for their superior clearness. Now my point is, that no man can proceed upon this wilful method, which the agnostics would have us apply to the theistic argument, without incurring the charge of lunacy. But they ought to be more willing to apply that wanton method in physics than in theology; because in the latter we have more ground to expect mysteries from the infinitude of the Being whom we study. When a line of evidence leads a sensible man to a startling and mysterious conclusion, what does he do? He would be prompted to revise the evidence carefully. That is all. If he finds it valid, he admits the conclusion in spite of the mj'stery. The sensible man bestows credence upon any propo- sition in any science, not because he comprehends the predicate, but because he apprehends perspicuous evidence supporting the copula. Now the several lines of evidence, rational and scrip- tural, for the being, attributes, and providence of God, are of invincible force; they cannot be resisted in their own appro- priate spheres. Every successive attempt to weaken them in that way perishes under the light of true philosophy. I con- THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 535 elude this point by firmly asserting that agnostics have no right thus to discount the whole force of this evidence, treating it as nju-existent. when it has so substantial an existence, not be- cause they can refute it, but simply because they do not like its result. The process is utterly illicit. Superficial opponents of God's retributive justice frequent- ly argue that this is a different attribute from his love, and in- deed so antithetic that they cannot find a place for it in a na- ture declared to be infinite love. A little correct thinking will show that this reasoning is not only groundless, but absurd. In fact, the principle of righteousness in every moral being is not dual, but single. The plurality of its actions arises solely from the contrast of the objects to which the principle directs itself. The magnetic needle in the compass is endued with one energy or magnetic principle, not two. This single energy will cause either end of the needle to act in opposite ways to the two opposite poles of the earth; and because the upper end is at- tracted towards the north pole, for that very reason it is re- pelled from the south pole. I prove it by this fact, that it is impossible to make a needle such that its upper end would be attracted to the north pole and not repelled from the south pole. Should any sailor tell you that he had such a needle, nobody would believe him. This instance presents us with a correct parallel to the action of the moral principle in a moral agent. The principle is and can be only one. It acts in opposite ways towards virtuous and vicious objects, because it is one, and 'be- cause it rationally appreliends the objects as opposites. Hence it follows, that this central principle would not be capable of acting in the amiable way of approbation, complacency and re- ward towards a virtuous object, unless it were certain from its own nature to act in the opposite and severer way of reprehen- sion towards towards a vicious and repulsive object. I repeat, that unless this principle is so constituted as to repel the re- pulsive action, it cannot be so constituted as to be attracted to the attractive action. One might as well talk of a yard-stick with only one end, or of a house with its south side, and no north side. Every man when he thinks knows that this is the condition upon whicli all correct moral principle exists, and he is incredulous about any other. Let me construct a little para- ble. I ask the agnostic, or the universalist, to come with me 58G THE LATEST INFIDELITY aud watch the proceedings of a certain stranger, of whom all we know as jet is that he claims a high reputation for amiability, philanthropy, equity and charity. He tells us that it is a peren- nial pleasure to him to witness and reward all benevolent and generous actions. I say to him. ^'Stranger, so far, well. I must now point you an opi)osite object. There stands a young repro- bate, the son of a devoted widowed mother, who is known to have robbed her of her little property, to neglect her wants in her destitution, to heap reproaches and curses upon her. and even to strike her venerable face. What are your feelings towards that object?" We suppose the stranger to answer, "Oh, sir, I assure you I am too thoroughly amia^ble to have any feel- ing about it. True, I see nothing in it to admire, but I am too affectionate to detest anything. I have no feeling at all towards that reprobate." I ask, would anybody believe him? Or, if we believe his statement that he felt no reprehension for so de- testable a son, must we not set him down also as a cold-blood- ed villain, whose pretended charity was all sheer hypocrisy? Such is the judgment of every man's common sense. Let us pass now from the virtuous principle in man to God. I assert that my argument only 'becomes the stronger. The perfectness of God's virtues only renders it more conclu- sive, because the purity, the equity, the truth, the love of God are infinite. It is therefore only the more certain that the cen- tral principle which makes him approve and love the virtuous must prompt him to reprehend the vicious. Men vainly imag- ine that it would be a delightful theology to have a God so amiable as to be sure to reward all good things. Taut also too amiable to be capable of punishing any evil thing. They de- mand an impossibility. The only way to reach it would be to have a God without any moral qualities at all. Who would wish to live under an omniscient and omnipotent Ruler who was not capable of knowing or caring whether he was reward- ing the wicked and punishing the good? If we must desire such moral principle in our Supreme Ruler as will be always certain of acting amiably and justly towards the good, then w^e must be willing that he shall be equally certain to repre- hend the wicked. If they would have a God too amiable to maintain a hell, they must accept one who is also too careless and heartless to provide any heaven. THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 537 Does oue say that still the mysterj' of Grod's permission of evil is not fully explained? I did not promise to explain it fully, which I believe will never be done in this world. What I pr3mised was to satisfy the just and humble mind that God has his sufficient explanation, which we are sure is consistent with his wisdom, benevolence, and holiness, without knowinj]j what it is. Natural theology gives sufficient ground for this consoling conclusion from its splendid evidences that he is all- wise, righteous, and benevolent, which have their prepander- ating force notwithstanding the unanswered question, and es- pecially from this important trait, which runs through the whole mystery, that the plan of his providence is to bring good out of the evil. But revealed theology gives us a crjwning and all-sulfi- cient satisfaction. It is found in the fact that Grod is so in- finite in benevolence and mercy, that at his own mere option he has made tin? supreme sacrifice for the redemption of his enemies. He provides this infinite blessing for them at the cost of the humiliation and death of his eternally begotten and co-equal Sou, whom he knows to outrank, in the dimen- sions of his infinite being and in his moral desert, all his ra- tional creatures combined together. The gospel tells us that this transcendent sacrifice will not redeem the apostate an- gels, and will not receive full application to all human beings. These are awful truths. But. be the cause of this limitation found where it may, it cannot be sought in any lack or stint of goodness in God. For had there been any such stint in his nature, one fibre of neglect, or injustice, or cruelty, this would inevitably have prevented thf supreme sacrifice for the behoof of any one. There is the triumphant theodicy in the infinite love which prompted redemption — redemption as apprehended by the evangelical triuitarian. There, no doubt, is the supreme glory of this gospel by which the apostle tells us God is mak- ing known to all worlds his manifold wisdom through the church of ransomed men. I will set forth the point of this argument in a closing parable. We see a surgeon enter a dwell- ing. A mother calls to her pallid, limping child, and seizes her in her arms. The surgeon produces one of those treacher- ous cases — so beautiful without with their ornamented woods and gilded clasps, so terrible within with the cold glitter of 538 THE LATEST INFIDELITY. forceps, bistouries, amputating-lmives, aud bone-saws. The child beholds with wide-eved wonder and then with terror, ere she perceives that these instruments are to be employed on her body. As the surgeon approaches she appeals to her mother with agonizing screams and tears: "Oh, mother, mother, save me!" But we see the woman, with stern eye, compressed lips, and pallid cheek, bare the child's swollen joint, and hold her struggling in her relentless arms, w^hile the cruel knife cuts the tender skin, carves the bleeding flesh, and pierces even to the very marrow of the diseased joint. Is this a mother or a tig- ress? The simple explanation is, that she is a true mother, wise and tender, who knows that this severe remedy is needed to save the precious life of her child, who would otherwise be the victim of a slow, loathsome, and torturing death. Has she not shown the truest love? and has not her fidelity cost her in- ward pangs of sympathy more cruel than the bodily smart of the surgery, which she has lieroically borne for love's salce? But now stei)s forward the caviller, and says: ''Stop, this w^onian is herself a wondrous leech. She knows all healing lo- tions, and all the herbs of virtue, some of which would have cured the diseased limb without a pang while the child slept; or, at least, she could have secured for her child the uncon- sciousness wiiich chloroform gives during the operation. Why, then, did she not use the gentler means to save this life, when she had them at her option? No, she must ibe intrinsically cruel and heartless. She must find pleasure in the gratuitous suffering of her own child." I am compelled to reply: "I do not know her reasons. Her social station is far above mine. She has never taken me into her domestic confidence. I had no right to demand that she should. But I can testify to auotlier fact. A few months ago the cry of fire drew me to a dwelling not far from this place which was wrapped in flames, and evi- dently near the final crash. The parents had (been busy rescu- ing their children, and, for the moment, supposed they had saved them all. But a cry issued from another window. A lit- tle white-robed figure was seen at it through the eddying smoke, crying: 'Father, mother! O save me.' All declared that it was too late. Even the father, amidst his bitter tears, acquiesced. But I saw the mother tear herself from the restraining hands of the firemen, who told her that any effort at rescue was mad- THE LATEST INFIDELITY. 539 ness aud suicide, leaving tlie shreds uf lier raiiueut in their clutches, aud dart up the fuming stairway. The stern men turned their faces away from the horror and stood wringing their hands. But in a minute the woman returned, her sill^en tresses bhizing, her garments on fire, one of her fair cheeks scorched, shrivelled by the blast, one eye blistered in the socket, but with her child in her arms wrapped safely in a blanket. After only pausing to extinguish the flames that were threat- ening her life, I saw her fall on her knees, and say: 'Thank God; I have saved my child.' Pass around this lady's chair, Mr. Caviller, you will see upon the other side of her face the scars of that rescue which, in one moment, blighted the beauty of her young motherhood for life. This is that mother; and this is the same child. Now, sir, I cannot satisfy your curiosity about the disuse of the chloroform, but I know tMs 'heroic mother's heart has its reason. For why? Because I saw her make the supreme sacrifice for this child. After such a demon- stration of boundless love, your cavil is impertinent, if not brutal." THE ATTRACnONS OF POPERY. 1)1-. Joliu H. Kice. with the intuition of a gix'ixi mind, warn- ed Presbyrei-iaus against a renewed prevalence of popery in our Protestant land. This was when it was so insignificant among us as to be almost unnoticed. Many were surprised at his pro- phecy, and not a few mocked; but time has fulfilled it. Our leaders from 1830 to 1860 understood well the causes of this danger. They were diligent to inform and prepare the minds of their people against it. Hence General Assemblies and Synods appointed annual sermons upon popery, and our teachers did their best to arouse the minds of the people. Now, all this has mainly passed away, and we are relaxing our resistance against the dreaded foe just in proportion as he grows more formidable. It has become the fashion to condenm controversy and to affect the widest charity for this and all other foes of Christ and of souls. High Presbyterian authority even is quoted as saying, that henceforth our concern v.ith Romanism should be chiefly irenicall The figures presented by the census of 1890 are con- strued in opposite ways. This gives the papists more than four- teen millions of adherents in the United States, where ninety years ago there were but a few thousands. Such Protestamt journals as think it their interest to play sycophants to public opinion try to persuade us that these figures are very consoling ;g because, if Kome had kept all the natural increase of her immi- grations the numbers would have been larger. But Rome points to them with insolent triumph as prognostics of an assured vic- tory over Protestantism on this continent. Which will prove correct? Both logic and Holy Writ teach us that "the thing which hath been is the thing which shall be." Like c^iuses must be expected to produce like effects. For Presbj'terians of all oth- ers to discount the perpetual danger from Romanism is thor- oughly thoughtless and rash. We believe that the Christianity 1 Appeared in The Presbyterian Quarterly, April, 1894. 540 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 541 left by the apostles to the primitive church was essentially what we now call Presbyterian and Protestant. Prelacy and popery speedily began to work in the bosom of that community and steadily wrought its corruption and almost its total extirpa- tion. Why should not the same cause tend to work the same result again? Are we truer or wiser Presbyterians than those trained by the apostles? Have the enemies of truth become less skillful and dangerous by gaining the experience of centuries? The popish system of ritual and doctrine was a gradual growth, which, madifying true Christianity, first perverted and then ex- tinguished it. Its destructive power has resulted from this: that it has not been the invention of any one cunning and hos- tile mind, but a gradual growth, modified by hundreds or thou- sands of its cultivators, who were the most acute, learned, sel- fish, and anti-Christian spirits of their generations, perpetually retouched and adapted to every weakness and every attribute of depraved human nature, until it became the most skillful and pernicious system of error which the world has ever known. As it has adjusted itself to every superstition, every sense of guilt, every foible and craving of the depraved human heart, so it has travestied with consummate skill every active princi- ple of the gospel. It is doubtless the ne plus ultra of religious delusion, the final and highest result of perverted human facul- ty guided 'by the sagacity of the great enemj-. This system has nearly conquered Christendom once. He who does not see that it is capable of conquering it again is blind to the simplest laws of thought. One may ask. Does it not retain sundry of the cardinal doctrines of the gospel, mon- otheism, the trinity, the hypostatic union, Christ's sacrifice, the sacraments, the resurrection, the judgment, immortality? Yes; in form it retains them, and this because of its supreme cun- ning. It retains them while so wresting and enervating as to rob them mainly of their sanctifying power, because it designs to spread its snares for all sorts of minds of every grade of opinion. The grand architect was too cunning to make it, like his earlier essays, mere atheism, or mere fetishism, or mere polytheism, or mere pagan idolatry ; for in these forms t?he trajj only ensnared the coarser and more ignorant natures. He has now perfected it and baited it for all types of humanity, the most refined as well as the most imbruted. 542 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. I. Romanism now enjoys in our country certain important advantages, whicli I may style legitimate, in this sense, that our decadent, half-corrupted Protestantism bestows these advan- tages upon our enemy, so that Rome, in employing them, only uses what we ourselves give her. In other words, there are plain points upon which Rome claims a favorable comparison as against Protestantism; and her claim is correct, in that the latter is blindly and criminally toetraying her own interests and duties. (1.) A hundred years ago French atheism gave the world the Jacobin theory of political rights. The Bible had been teaching mankind for three thousand years the great doctrine of men's moral equality before the universal Father, the great basis of all free, just, and truly republican forms of i-ivil so- ciety. Atheism now travestied this true doctrine by her mor- tal heresy of the absolute equality of men, asserting that every human 'being is naturally and inalienably entitled to every right, power, and prerogative in civil society which is allowed to any man or any class. The Bible taught a liberty wiiich con- sists in each man's unhindered privilege of having and doing just those things, and no others, to which he is rationally and morally entitled. Jacobinism taught the liberty of license — every man's natural right to indulge his own absolute will; and it set up this fiendish caricature as the object of sacred worship for mankind. Now, democratic Protestantism in t'hese United States has become so ignorant, so superficial and wilful, that it confounds the true republicanism with this deadly heresy of Jacoibinism. It has ceased to know a difference. Hence, when the atheistic doctrine begins to bear its natural fruits of li- cense, insubordination, communism, and anarchy, this bastard democratic Protestantism does not know how to retouke them. It has recognized the parents; how can it consistently condemn the children? Now, then, Rome proposes herself as the stable advocate of obedience, order, and permanent authority through- out the ages. She shows her practical power to govern men, as she says, through their consciences (truth would say, through their superstitions). Do we wonder that good citizens, begin- ning to stand aghast at these elements of confusion and ruin, the spawn of Jacobinism, which a Jacobinized Protestantism cannot control, should look around for some moral and reli- THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 543 gious system capable of supporting a firm social order? Need we be surprised that when Rome steps forward, saving, "I have been through the centuries the upholder of order," rational men should be inclined to give her their hand? This high advantage a misguided Protestantism is now giving to its great adversary. (2.) The Reformation was an assertion of liberty of thought. It asserted for all mankind, and secured for the Prot- estant nations, each man's right to think and decide for himself upon his religious creed and his duty towards his God, in the fear of Grod and the truth, unhindered by human power, politi- cal or ecclesiastical. Here, again, a part of our Protestantism perverted the precious truth until the "manna bred warms, and stank." Rationalistic and skeptical Protestantism now claims, instead of that righteous liberty, license to dogmatize at the bidding of every caprice, every impulse of vanity, every false philosophy, without any responsibilit}' to either truth or moral obligatian. The result has been a diversity and confusion of pretended creeds and theologies among nominal Protestants, which perplexes and frightens sincere, 'but timid, minds. Ev- erything seems to them afloat upon this turbulent sea of licen- tious debate. They are fatigued and alarmed; they see no end of uncertainties. They look around anxiously for some safe and fixed foundation of credence. Rome comes forward and says to them, You see, then, that this Protestant liberty of thaught is fatal license; the Protestant's ''rational religion" turns out to be but poisonous rationalism, infidelity wearing the mask of faith. Holy Mot'her Church offers you the foundation of her infallibil- ity, guaranteed by the indwelling of the Holy Ghost. She shows you that faith must ground itself in implicit submission, and not in human inquiry. She pledges herself for the safety of your soul if you simply submit; come, then, ''trust and be at rest." Many are the weary souls who accept her invitations; and these not only the weak and cowardly, but sometimes the 'brilliant and gifted, like a Cardinal Xewmau. For this result a perverted Protestantism is responsible. If all nominal Prot- estants were as honest in their exercise of mental liberty as the fear of God and the loj-alty to truth should make them; if they were as humble and honest in construing and obeying God's word in his Bible, as papists profess to be in submit ting to the authority of the Holy Mother Church, honest inquirers would 544 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. never be embarrassed, and would never be befooled intr* suppos- ing that the words of a pope could furnish a more comfortable foundation for faith than the word of God. (3.) To the shame of our damaged Protestantism, popery remains, in some essential respects, more fairhful to (Jod's truth than its rival. For instance, while multitudes of scholars, call- ing themselves Protestant Christians, are undermining the doc- trine of the inspiration of the Scriptures, Rome holds fast to it in her catechisms and formal declarations. True, she claims in- spiration for others than the prophets, evangelists, and apostles for her popes, namely, and prelates, holding to ''the apostolic succession." But if one must err, it is better to err by excess than by defect on a point like this, where negation cuts the blinded soul of man off absolutely from the divine guidance. Thousands of pretended Protestant believers are advancing their destructive criticism to assert that the I'entateuch is a literary fraud. Rome firmly maintains that it is God's own work through Moses. A thousand deceitful arts are plied to degrade the conception of inspiration, as giving only thoughts, and not the words, or as consisting only in an elevation of the consciousness by poetic genius, and such like treacherous views. Rome still teaches the old-fashioned, honest view. What right have such deceitful Protestants to scold Rome for dishonesty of those historical and spiritual impostures upon which she founds the clai'ms of the popes? Truly, they are dirty enough; for the forged decretals, for instance, too much contempt and reprehension cannot be expressed. But they are not a whit dirtier than the mental dishonesty of the men who, after asserting that they have proved the Pentateuch mostly a literary fraud, done by priestcraft more than a thousand years after its pretended date, still assure us that its value as Scrip ture and divine rule of faith is not wounded. These recent jus- tifiers of pious fraud cannot convict the older ones. The old imposture, like a rotten roof, has become moss-grown with age. and is picturesque and venerable in many eyes. The new im- posture stands ugly and malodorous in its rank freshness. Again, multitudes of pretended Protestants utterly deny the trinity, the very corner-stone of a theology of redemption. Rome affirms it in all the fullness of the creeds of Mce, Chalce- don, and Athanasius. Myriads of pretended Protestants revere their own ethical philosophy so much more than they do their THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 5-15 God that they must needs utterly reject Christ's vicarious satis- faction for the guilt of sin. Rome continues to aissert it, in spite of spurious philosophy, although she does add to it super- stitious claims of human merit. Myriads of our men have be- come such "advanced thinkers" that they cannot away with supernatural regeneration. Rome teaches it invariably, even if it is in the form of baptismal regeneration, and still ascribes it to the power of God. Such are a few of the biting contrasts. We cannot wonder that many, even of honest and reverent minds, when they witness this ruthless destruction of the es- sentials of the gospel, draw two plain inferences. One is, that all such men pretending to be Protestant believers are, in fact, nothing but infidels wearing a mask, probably for the sake of the loaves and fishes as yet connected with the clerical calling; so that it is mere impudence for such men to assume to warn them against popish impostures — rather too near akin to Satan reproving sin. The other is, that the Romanist theologians must 'have been right in asserting, ever since the days of Lutii- er, that our Protestant way of esta'blishing a divine rule of faith by a rational and explicit credence must turn out nothing but rationalistic infidelity. Souls which value a divine redemp- tion for man shudder as the.y behold this wild havoc of every- thing characteristic of a saving gospel; and they naturally ex- claim, "There is no security except in going 'back to that old foundation, implicit trust in the witness of 'Holy Mother Church' to the Scriptures!" Now, true Protestants know that this conclusion is wretchedly sophistical, but it is dreadfully natural for honest, half-informed men. (4.) The best argument for any creed is the godly living of its professors. Protestantism used to have a grand and victor- ious advantage on that point. She is ceasing to wield it. The wealth begotten by her very virtues of industry, thrift, and probity has debauched many of her children. "Jeshurun has waxen fat, and kicked." An unbounded fi-ood of luxury sweeps Protestant families away. A relaxed and deceitful doctrine pro- duces its sure fruits of relaxed and degraded morals. Church discipline is nearly extinct. Meantime spurious revivalism, re- lying upon all species of vulgar clap-trap and sensational arti- fice, upon slang rhetoric and the stimulating of mere animal sympathies, instead of the pure word and spirit of God, is hur- 546 THE ATTEAOTIONS OF POPERY. rying tens of thousands of dead souls into the Protestamt churches. These evils have goue so far that a profession of faith in these churches has come to mean nearly as little as a professed conformitj' to Rome means. No shrewd man regards such a profession as any sufficient guarantee for truth or com- mon honesty in dealing. The lawyers tell us that litigation un- masks about as much intended fraud, purposed extortion, and loose swearing in these church members as in other people. Worldly conformity is so general that the line between the church and the world has become nearly as indistinct as that between spiritual and prafane living in the Romish communion. Meantime, Rome gets up no spurious revivals; she works her sj'stem with the steadiness and perseverance which used to characteriz'e pastoral effort and family religion among Presby terians. It is true that her cultus is intensely ritualistic; but, at least, it does not offend decent people ^by irreverent slang; her worship is liturgical, but her liturgies, however erroneous in doctrine, are, at least, genteel, and marked by aesthetic dig nity. Rome does not venture on sham miracles very much in these United States. It is true she has her spurious relics and other superstitious impostures for impressing the peojjle; but wherein are they less of human artifices and less deceptive than the machinery of our pretended revivals, with their marchings, handshakings, choruses, and ephemeral conversions? Rome's confessional is, indeed, a terrible organ of spiritual tyranny; but still it is a strong argan of church discipline, and it is stead- ily employed as such in every Romish chapel. The average Protestant church member feels that any assumption of real presbyterial authority over him by his pastor would be an im- pertinence, which he would resent with scorn. The Romish priest still wields a potent, ghostly authority over his people. One may cry that he wields it by virtue of superstition, by the threat of withholding his absolution or extreme unction. Yet he wields it, and usually for the credit of his church. He teaches his members to practice the forms of their daily de- votion with diligence and regularity, holding out a powerful motive in the promise of merit thus wrought out. The Prot- estant may exclaim, These are but machine prayers, vain repe- titions told off by the dozen along with the beads! Very true, the most of it may be very poor stuff; but nothing can be quite tSe attractions of popeey. 647 so poor aud worthless as the living of many Protestant mem bers, who have no family altar and no closet, who say no pray- ers either in form or in spirit, and who have no conscience of keeping either Sabbaths or saints' days. It is a very bad thing in the Romanist to join the worship of Mary and the saints with that of God; but we surmise that it is a still worse thing to be a practical atheist, and statedly to worship nothing, neither saint nor God, as many an enrolled member of a Protestant church now does. The Romanist's machine prayers and vain repetitious have, at least, this tendency, to sustain in his soul some slight habit of religious reverence, aud this is better than mere license of life. While the two cammunions wear these aspects, we need not wonder that those Americans, at least, whose early preju dices lean towards Rome should honestly regard her as the bet- ter mother of piety and morals. (5.) We Protestants are also giving away to Rome another powerful influence over honest and thoughtful Christian minds. This we do by secularizing our whole State education. The bulk of the Protestants in the United States have betrayed them- selves, through their partisan political zeal, to an attitude con- ctM'uing the rearing of youth which must ever be preposterous and untenable for sincere Christians. The statesmen and di- vines of the Reformation, the Luthers, Calvins, Knoxes, Win- tlirops, and Mathers, were strong advocates of State education; they were such 'because they believed in the close union of church and State; because their conception of the State was thoroughly theocratic. Had these men been asked, What think you of a theory of education which should train the understand- ing without instructing the religious conscience; which should teach young immortal spirits anything and everything except God; which should thus secularize education, a function essen- tially spiritual, and should take this parental tRsk from the fathers and mothers, on whom God imposed it, to confer it on the human aud earthly organism, expressly secular and god- less? they would have answered with one voice. It is pagan, ut- terly damnable. But they thought that the State might edu- cate, because the State with them was Christian. Thus Sta,t€ education was firmly grafted into the Puritan colonies. New England, with her usual aggressiveness, has pushed her usage 548 THE ATTEACTIONS OF POPERY. all over the empire. Meantime the Jetfersouian doctrine of the absolute severance and independence of church and State, of the entire secularitj of the State, and the absolutely equal rights, before the law, of religious truth and error, of pagan- ism, atheism, and Christianity, has also established itself in all the States; and still the politicians, for electioneering ends, propagate this State education everywhere. By this curious circuit ''Christian America" has gotten herself upon this thor- oughly pagan ground; forcing the education of responsible, moral, and immortal beings, of which religion must ever be the essence, into the hands of a gigantic human agency, which re- solves that it cannot and will not be religious at all. Surely some great religious body will arise in America to lift its Chris- tian protest against this monstrous result! But, lo! the chief, the only organized protest heard in America comes from the Romish Church. It is she who stands forth pre-eminent, almost single-handed, to assert the sacred rights of Christian parents in the training of the souls they have begotten, of Christ in the nurture of the souls he died to redeem. To-day it is this Rom- ish Church which stands forth precisely in the position of the Luthers, Calvins, Knoxes, and Mathers as to the main, central point, which is^ that the education of the young should be Christian^ and should be committed to Christian hands And what are our representative Protestants saying? Instead of admitting this truth of the ages, and confessing the fatal error into which their haste and Jacobinism have betrayed them, they are only shouting that Rome objects to the American State school because Rome hates republicanism, and wishes to overthrow it. The best they can do is to place themselves Jn this absurd and dishonest position: To boast in one breath of their loyalty to the principles of the Reformers concerning edu- cation, and in the next breath to vilify the Roman Church for reasserting the very principles of these same Reformers. What can they expect save a miserable defeat upon this false posi- tion, if, indeed, common justice and common sense are to con- tinue traits of the American mind; unless, indeed, America is to make up her mind to be atheistic or pagan instead of Chris- tian? These misguided Protestants may be assured that there are hundreds of thousands of serious, devout parents who will be much more likely to honor Rome as the faithful champion of THE ATTRAOTIOISrS OF POPERY. 549 Christ's rights over their children than to condemn lier as the designing enemy of free government. In this unnatural con- test Protestantism can only lose, while Rome gains; and she will gain the approval not only of the superstitious, but of the most thoughtful and devout minds. (G.) It lis with this most valuable class of minds that Rome is now gaining anather far-reaching advantage. This is by her doctrine concerning marriage and the relations of the sexes. On these points she continues to hold and teach tlie highest views. It is very true that Rome errs in making marriage a sacrament of the church; but she makes it, as Scripture does, a divinely ap- pointed and religious institution, while Protestant laws and de- bauched Protestant thought tend all over America to degrade it to a mere civil contract. The Roman doctrine and canon law re- cognize no divorce except by the pope himself. They teach that marriage is inviolable. The divorce laws in our Protestant! States provide so many ways for rending the marriage tie that its vows have become almost a farce. We are told that many Protestant wonu^n in America scornfully refuse to talce the vow of oibedience to tlieir husbands, ai)puinted by God in his word; and Protestant i)arsons are so cowardly that they dare not men- tion it in the mai'inage ceremony. But Rome still exacts thijs conjugal ()1)edience of her daugliter's. Romish }»astors also stand almost alone in teaching their people the enomnous crim- inality of those nameless sins against jvosterity at which fash- ionable Protestantism connives. Moral and thoughtful men who know history know how fundamental the sanctity of mar- riage and the family is to society and the church, how surely their corruption must destroy both and 'barbarize mankind, look on aghast at this sjjreading taint in American life. Many an educated jtatriot is beginning to say that Romanism is the only firm and consistent opponent. Protestants may exclaim that Rome has ever been a cor- i-upting religion; that even the confessional has been made the instrument of profligacy. No doubt these things have often been true; yet another thing is visibly true in these United States: that while degrading views of the marriage relation and of the honor of parentage are eating out the life of so many nominal I'rotestant families, and bringing them to total ex- tinction, the families of Romanists are better protected from 550 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. this bliglir. Their houses are peopled with childi-en, while the homes of rich Protestants are too elegant and luxurious for such nuisances. By the very force of the Malthusian law of population Romanism is growing, while Protestantism stands still. I have thus described six distinct lines of intiueiice which our unfaithfulness to our principles has betrayed int;> the hands of the Romanist. They are using them all with constant effect, and we, at least, cannot blame them. II. I now proceed to explain certain evil princijiles of hu- man nature which are concurring powerfully in this country to give currency to popery. These may be called its illicit advan- tages. I mention : (1.) The constant tendency of American demagogues to pay court to popery and to purchase votes for themselves from it. at the cost of the people's safety, rights and money. Nearly two generations ago (the men of this day seem to have forgot- ten the infamy) William H. Seward, of New York, began this dangerous and dishonest game. He wished to 'be Governor of New York. He came to an understanding with ArehMshop Hughes, then the head of the popish hierarchy in that State, to give him the Irish vote in return for certain sectarian advan- tages in the disbursement of the State revenues. Neither Rome nor the demagogues have since forgotten their lesson, nor will they ever forget it. It would be as unreasonable to expect it as to expect that hawks will forget the poultry yard. It is the nature of the demagogue to trade off anything for votes; they are the breath in the nostrils of his ambition. The popish hier- archy differs essentfally from the ministry of any other reli- gion, in having votes to trade. The traditional claim of Rome is that she has the right to control both spheres, the ecclesiasti- cal and the political, the political for the sake of the ecclesias- tical. The votes of her masses are more or less manageable, as the votes of Protestants are not, because Rome's is a system of authority as opposed to free thought. Rome instructs the con- science of every one of her members that it is his religiouys duty to subordinate all other duties and interests to hers. And this is a spiritual duty enforceable by the most awful spiritual sanctions. How can a thinking man afford to disobey the hier- archv which holds his eternal destiny in its secret fist; so that THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 551 even if they gave liim iu form the essential sacraments, such as the masis, absolution, and extreme unction, they are able clandestinely to make them worthless to him, by withholding the sacramental intention. Hence it is that the majority of An)erican papists can be voted in "blocks"; and it is virtually the hierarchy which votes them. The goods are ready bound up in parcels for traffic witli demagogues. We are well aware that numerous jMpi'sts will indignantly deny this; declaring that there is a Romanist vote in this country which is just as inde- pendent of their priesthood aud as free as any other. Of course there is. The hierarchy is a very experienced and dextrous driver. It does not whip in the restive colt'S, 'but humors them awhile until she gets them well harnessed and broken. But the team as a whole must yet travel her road, because they have to 'believe it infallible. We assure these independent Romanist voters that they are not "good 'Catholics"; they must unlearn thiis heresy of independent thought before they are meet for the Romanist paradise. Men of secular ambition have always sought to use the hierarch}' to influence others for their politi- cal advantage; the example is as old as history. Just as soon as prelacy was developed in the patritstic church, Roman em- perors began to purchase its influence to sustain their thrones. Throughout the Middle Ages, German kaisers and French, Spanish, and English kings habitually traded with Rome, pay- ing her dignities and endowments for lier ghoistly support to their ambitions. Even in this century we have seen the two Napoleons playing the same game — purchasing for their im- perialism the support of a priesthood in whose religion they did not believe. If any suppose that because America is nom- inally democratic theisame thing will not happen here, they are thoroughly silly. Some Yankee ingenuity will be invoked to modify the forms of the traffic, so as to suit American names; that is all. Intelligent studentis of church history know that one main agency for converting primitive Christianity first into prelacy and then into popery was unlimited church endowments. As soon as Constantine established Christianity as the religion of the State, ecclesiastical persoiiis and bodies began to assume the virtual (and before long the formal) rights of corporations. They could receive bequests aud gifts of property, and hold them by 552 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. a teuui-e as firm as that of the fee-simple. These spiritual cor- pui'ations were deathless. Thuis the property they acquired was all held 'by the tenure of mortmain. When a corporation is thus empowered to absorb continually, and never to disgorge, there is no limit to its possible wealth. The laws uf the empire in the Middle Ages imposed no limitations upon bequeists; thus, most naturally, monasteries, cathedrals, chapters, and arch- bishoprics became inordinately rich. At the Reformation they had grasped one- third of the property of Europe. But Scrip- ture saith, "Where rhe carcass is, thither the eagles are gath- ered together." Wealth is power, and ambitious men crave it. Thus this endowed hierarchy came to be filled by the men of the greediest ambition in Europe, instead of by humble, self- denying ])astors; and thus it was that this tremendous money power, arming itself first witli a spiritual despotism of the popiish theology over consciences, and then allying itself with political power, wielded the whole to enforce the absolute dom- ination of that religion which gave them their wealth. ^\^ wonder human liberty, free thought, and the Bible were to- gether trampled out of Europe. When the Reformation came, the men who could think saw that this tenure in mortmain had 'been the fatal thing. Knox, the wisest of them, saw clearly that if a religious reformation was to succeed in Scotland the ecclesiastical corporations must be destroyed. They were de- stroyed, their whole property alienated to the secular nobleis or to the State (the remnant which Knox secured for religious edu- cation); and therefore it was that Scotland remained Presbyter- ian. When our American commonwealths were founded, states- men and divines understood this great jtrinciple of jurispru- dence, that no corporate tenure in mortmain, either si)irirual or secular, is compatible with the liberty of the peoi)le and the continuance of conistitutional government. But it would appear that our legislators now know nothing about that great principle, or care nothing about it. Church in- stitutions, Protestant and Romanist, are virtually perpetual cor- porations. Whatever the pious choose to give them is held in mortmain, and they grow continually richer and richer; they do not even pay taxes, and there seems no liniir \\\nn\ rheir acquisi- tions. And last comeis the Supreme Court of the T'nited States, and under the pretext of construing the law, legislates a new THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 553 law In the famous Walnut-street Cliun-li case, as tliouoh they desired to ensure both the corruption of religijn and the de- struction of free government by a second gigantic iucubus of endowed ecclesiasticism. The new law is virtually this: That in case any free citizen deems that the gifts of himself or l\\t> ancestors are usurped for some use alien to the designed trust, zV s/ia// be the usurper who shall decide the issue. This is, of course, essentially popish, yet a great Protestant denomination has been seen hastening to enroll it in its digest of spiritual laws.* The working of this tendency of overgrown ecclesiatsti- cal wealth will certainly be twofold: First, to Romanize par- tially or wholly the Protestant churches thus enriched; and, secondly, to incline, enable, and equip the religion thus Roman- ized for its alliance with political ambition and for the subju- gation of the people and the government. When church bodiers began, under Constantine, to acquire endowments, these bodies were Episcopal, at most, or even still Presbyterian. The in- crease of endowment helped to make them popish. Then jiop- ery and feudalism stamped out the Bible and enslaved Europe. If time permitted, I could trace out the lines of causation into perfect clearness. Will men ever learn that like causes must l)roduce like effects? (2.) The democratic theory of human society may be the most rational and equitable; but human nature is not equita- ble; it is fallen and perverted. Lust of applause, pride, vain- glory, and love of power are as natural to it as hunger to the body. Next to Adam, the most representative man \\\nn\ earth was Diotrephes, "who loves to have the pre-eminence." Every man is an aristocrat in his heart. Xow, prelacy and popery are aristocratic religions. Consecjuently, as long as human naturt^ is natural, they will present more or less of attraction to human minds. Quite a number of Methodist, Presbyterian, or Inde- pendent ministers have gone over to prelacy or popery, and thus become bishopis. Was there ever one of them, however conscientious his new faith, and however devout his temjtei-, who did not find some elation and pleasure in his spiritual dig- nity? Is there a democrat in democratic America who would not be flattered in his heart by being addressed as "my lord?" Distinction and power are gratifying to all men. Prelacy and See* Dabney's Discussions. Vol. 11.. p. ■IQX. 554 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. }»!)I»ei-y offer Mils sweet morsel to aspirants by proiiiisiug to make some of tliem lords of their brethren. This is enough to entice all of them, as the crown entices all the racers on the race-course. It is true that while many run, one obtaineth the crown; but all may flatter themselves with the hope of win- ning. Especially does the pretension of sacramental grace offer the most isplendid bait to human ambition which can be con- ceived of on this earth. To be the vicar of the Almighty in dis- I)ensing eternal life and heavenly crowns at will is a more mag- niflcent power than the prerogative of any emperor on earth. Let a man .mce be persuaded that he really grasps this power by getting a i)Iace in the apostolic succession, and the more sincere he is. the more .splendid the prerogative will appear to him; for the more clearly his faith appreciates the thing that he proposes to do in the sacraments, the more illustrious that thing must appear. The greatest boon ever inherited by an em- peror was finite. The boon of redemption is infinite; to be able to dispense it at will to one sinner is a much grander thing than to conquer the world and establish a universal secular empire. The humblest "hedge-priest" would be a far grander man than that emperor if he could really work the miracle and confer the grace of redemption which Rome says he does every time he consecrates a mass. How shall we eistimate, then, the great- ness of that i)0])e or prelate who can manufacture such miracle workers at will? The greatest being on earth should hardly think himself worthy to loose his sandals from h'i.s feet. The Turkish embassador to Paris was certainly right when, upon accompanying the King of France to high mass in Notre Dame, and seeing the king, courtiers and multitude all prostrate them- selveis when the priest elevated the Host, he wondered that the king should allow anybody but himself to perform that mag- nificent function. He is reported to have said: "Sire, if I were king, and believed in your religion, nobody should do that in France except me. It is a vastly greater thing than anything else that you do in your royal functions." As long as man is man, therefore, popery will possess this unhallowed advantage of enticing, and even entrancing, the ambition of the keenest aspirants. The stronger their faith in their doctrine, the more will they sanctify to themselves this dreadful ambition. In this respect, as in so many others, the tendency of the whole THE ATTRACTIOlSrS OF POPKRY. 555 eui'i'eiit of Imiiiau nature us to make papists. It is converting grace only which can check that current and turn men sincerely 'back towards Protestantism. I am well aware that tlie func- tions of the Protestant minister may be so wrested as to present an appeal to unhallowed ambition. But popery professes to confer upon her clergy every didactic and presbyterial function which Protestautitsm has to bestow; while the former otters, in addition, this splendid bait of prelatic power and sacramental miracle-w^orkiug. (.'?.) All the churches which call themselves Protestant, even the strictest, now betray the silent influence of those Komanizing tendencies which have been and are hereafter to be explained. There is an almost universal letting down of the old tstandard of doctrine and worship. A comparison of preva- lent usages of to-day and of seventy years ago in the Methodist, Baptist, Congregational and Presbyterian Churches (except those of the Secession) would startle any thinking mind. Ev- ery one of them now admits usages wliicli were then univer- sally rejected by them, such as architectural pomps, i)ictui-ed windows, floral decorations, instrumental and operatic music. One may say, that these are matters of indift'erence whicli can- not be proved anti-scriptural; but every sensible man knows that they proceed from one impulse, the craving for a more spectacular and ritualistic worship. This is precisely the im- pulse which brought about prelacy and popery in the patristic ages. The strictest Protestant communions are now moving upon the same inclined plane. The descent is gentle, at first, but as it proceeds it grows steeper; and at the bottom i.s popery. The prelatic churches of America now notoriously occupy the middle and advanced parts of this course. Forty years ago, when things were not near so bad with them as now, the head of the American popish hierarchy pointed an eminent Presby- terian divine to a dainty Puseyite clergyman trip})ing t)y, and said, with a sardonic smile: "Doctor, those are the cattle who do our plowing for us gratis. They leave us little to do. My only objection to their work is, that they make their perverts rather too popish to suit my taste as a Komanist." This Right Reverend was, of courise, an Irishman. Episcopalians who teach baptismal regeneration, the real presence, the ajKistolic succession and such like dogmas, must inevitably propel their f)5r) THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. impils towards popery. If their favorite doctrines have any foundation in logic or Scripture, that foundation sustains I)opery ais fully as prelacy. When one fixes the premises in the minds of his pupils, he should expect to see them sooner or later proceed to the logical consequence; as all rivers run to the ocean, so the ultimate destiny of all high cliurchism is Kome. These covert educators for popery are more efficient f;)r evil than the overt ones. I fear thoise who are on the road to the Eternal City more than those who have fixed their abode there. This head of my argument is, then, that Romanism is sure to win in America, because most of those who profess to be Protestants are really helping her by preparing her way. <4.) In sundry respect.s I ]»erceive a sort of hallucination l>revailing in people's minds concerning old historical errors and abuses, which I see to have been the regular results of hu- man nature. Men will not understand history; they flatter themselves that, because the modes of civilization are much changed and advanced, therefore the essential laws of man's nature are going to cease acting; which is just as unreasonable as to expect that sinful human beings must entirely cea.se to be untruthful, sensual, dishonest, and selfish, because they have gotten to wear fine clothes. Of certain evils and abuses of an- cient history men j^erisuade themselves that they are no longer possible among us. because we have become civilized and nom- inally Christian. One of these evils is idolatry with its two 'branches, polytheism and image-worship. Oh! they say, man- kind has outgrown all that; other evils may invade our Chris- tian civilization, but that is too gross to come back again. They are blind at once to the teachings of historical facts and to com- mon sense. They know that at one time idolatry nearly filled the ancient world. Well, what was the previous religious state of mankind uj)on wliicli it sujiervened? Virtually a <'liristian istate, that is to say, a worship of the one true (Jod, under the light of revelation, with our same gospel taught by jjromises and sacrifices. And it is very stupid to suppose that the social state upon which the early idolatry supervened was savage or barbaric. >Ve rather conclude that the people who built Noah's ark, the tower of Babel, and the pyramid of CheopiS, and who enjoyed the light of God's recent revelations to Adam, to Enoch, to Noah, were civilized. Men make a strange confusion here: THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 557 They faui-y rliar idolatiT could be pi-evaleut because mankind were not civilized. The histoiical fact is just the opposite: ^lankind became uncivilized because idolatry first prevailed. In truth, the principles tending to idjlatry are deeply laid in man's fallen nature. Like a compressed spring, they are ever ready to act again, and will isurely begin to act, whenever the opposing power of vital godliness is withdrawn. First, the sensuous has become too prominent in man; reason, conscience, and faith. r<>(> feeble. Every sinful man's experience witnesses this all day long, everj' day of his life. Wh}- else is it that the objects of sense-perception, which are comparatively trivial, dominate his attention, his sensibilities, and his desires so much more than the objects of faith, which he himself knows to be so much more important? Did not this isensuous tendency seek to invade man's religious ideas and feelings, it would 'be strange indeed. Hence, man untaught and unchecked 'by the heavenly light al- ways shows a craving for sensuous objects of worship. He is not likely, in our day, to satisfy this craving by setting up a brazen image of Dagon. the fish, god; or of Zeus, or the Roman Jupiter; or of the Aztecs' Itzlahuitl. But still he craves a visi- ble, material object of worship. Rome meets him at a com- fortable half-way station with her relics, crucifixes, and images of the saints. She adroitly smoothes the downhill road for him by connecting all these with the worship of the true God, Again, man's conscious weakness impels him almost irresistibly in his serions hours to seek some being of supernatural attributes to lean upon. His heart cries out, "Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I." But when pure monotheism proposes to him the supreme, eternal God — ^infinite not only in his power to help, but in his omniscience, justice, and holiness — the sinful heart recoils. This object is too high, too holy, too dreadful for ir. Sinful man craves a God, but, like his first father, shuns the infinite God; hence the powerful tendency to invent interme- diate gods, whom he may persuade himself to be sufficiently gracious and powerful to be trusted, and yet not so infinite, im- mutable, and holy as inevitably to condemn sin. Here is the impulse which prompted all pagan nations to invent polythe- ism. This they did by filling the space 'between man and the supreme ibeing with intermediate gods. Such, among the Greeks, were Bacchus, Hercules, Castor and Pollux, Theseus, Aescula- pin«. ofr. Tt is a great mistake to suppoise that thoughtful ^58 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. pagans did not recognize the unity and etei-niry of a supreme God, ''Fatliei' af gods and of men." But sometimes the,y rep- resent him as so exalted and sublimated as to be at once above the reach of human prayers and above all concernment in hu- man affairs. Other.s thought of him as too awful to be directly approached, accessible only through the mediation of his awn next progeny, the secondary gods. Here we have precisely the impulse for which Rome provides in her saint-worship. Mary is the highest of the intermediate gods, next to the trinity, the intercessor for Christ's intercession. The apostles and saints are the secondary gods of this Christian pantheon. How strangely has God's predestination led Rome in the develop- ment of her history to the unwitting admission of this indict- ment I Pagan Rome had her marble temple, the gift af Agrip- pa to the ('ommonwealth, the Pantheon, or sanctuary of all the gods. This very building stands now, rededicated by the popes as the temple of Christ and all the saints. So fateful has been the force of this analogy between the old polytheism and the new. The attempt is made, indeed, to hide the likeness by the so- phistical distinction between /afrta and dulia; but its wortii- lesisness appears from this, that even dulta cannot be offered to redeemed creatures without ascribing to them, by an un- avoidable implication, the attributes peculiar to God. In one word, fallen men of all ages have betrayed a powerful tendency to image-warship and polytheism. Rome provides for that ten- dency in a way the most adroit possible, for an age nominally Christian but practically unbelieving. To that tendency the religion of the Rible sternly refuses to concede anything, re- quiring not its gratification, but it.s extirpation. This cunning policy of Rome had sweeping success in the early church. The same principle won almost universal success in the ancient world. It will succeed again here. Many will exclaim that this prognostic is wholly erroneous; that the great, bad tendency of our age and country is to agnosticism as against all religions. I am not mistaken. This drift will be as temporary as it is partial. ^I. Guizot says in his Meditations: "One never need go far back in history to find atheism advancing half way to meet superstition." A wiser analyst of human nature say.s: ''Even as thev did not like to retain (rod in their knowledge. THE ATTRACTIONR OF POPERY. 559 God gave them over to a reprobate mind.'' "Professing them- selves to be wise, thev became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible Gad into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts,, and creeping things." This is the exact pathology of superstition. When the culture of the Augustan age taught the Romans to despise the religious faith of their fathers, there was an interval of agnosticism. But next, the most refined of the agnostics were seen studying the mysteries of Isis and practicing the foulest rites of the pagan- ism of the conquered provinces. Atheism is too freezing a blank for human souls to inhabit permanently. It outrages too many of the heart's affections and of the reason's first princi- ples. A people who have cast away their God, when they diis- cover this, turn to false gods. For all such wandering spirits Rome stands with open doors; there, finally, they will see their most convenient refuge of superstition in a catalogue of Chris- tian isaints transformed into a polytheism. Thus the cravings of superstition are satisfied, while the crime is veiled from the conscience b}' this pretence of scriptural origin. (5.) I proceed to unfold an attraction of Romanism far more seductive. This is its proposal to satisfy man'is guilty heart by a ritual instead of a spiritual salvation. As all know who understand the popish theology, the proposed vehicle of this redemption iby forms is the sacraments. Romanists are taught that the New Testament sacraments differ from those of the Old Testament in this: that they not only symbolize and seal, but effectuate grace tx opere operato in the souls of the recipients. Rome teaches her children that her sacraments are actual charitsmatic power of direct supernatural efficiency wrought upon recipients by virtue of a portion of the Holy Spirit's omnipotence conferred upon the priest in ordination from the apostolic succession. The Bible teaches that in tlu' case of all adults a gracious state must pre-exist in order for any beneficial participation in the sacrament, and that the only influence of the sacrameutis is to cherish and advance that pre- existing spiritual life by their didactic effect, as energized by God's Spirit, through prayer, faith, watchfulness, and obedience, in precisely the same generic mode in which the Holy Sjtirit en- ergizes the written and preached word. Hence, if watchfulness, prayer, obedience, and a life of faith are neglected, our sacra- o60 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPEIiY. meuts become uo .sacraments. If thou be a breaker of the law, tliy "circuincLsiou is made imcircumci.sion." But Rome teacbe.s that her sacrament.s. duly administered by a priest havin"- apos- tolic succession, implant spiritual life in souls hitherto dead in sin, and that they maintain and foster this life by a direct pow- er not dependent on the recipient's dilioent exercise of goispel principles. Provided the recipient be not in mortal .sin unab- solved, the sacrament does its spiritual work upon the sinful soul, whether it receives it in the exercise of saving grace or not. (See the article, "Prelacy a Blunder," in Collected Discus- sions, Vol. II., p. 218.) Now let no Protestant mind exclaim: "Surely this is too gross to be popular; surely jieople will have too much sense to think that they can get to heaven by this species jf consecrated jugglery I" History shows that thisischeme of redemption is al- most universally accepta'ble and warmly popular with sinful mankind. Apprehend aright the ideas of paganism, ancient and modern: we perceive that this popish conception of sacraments is virtually the same with the pagan's conception of their heath- en rites. They claim to 'be just this species of saving ritual, working their benefit upon souls precisely by this opus opera- turn agency. What a commentary' have we here upon this tenr dency of human nature to a ritual salvation. The evangelists and apostles reintroduced to the world the pure conception of a spiritual salvation wrought by the energy of divine truth, and not of church rites; received by an intelligent faith in the saved man's soul, and not by manual ceremonial; and made effectual by the enlightening operation of the Holy (ihost upon heart and mind in rational accordance with truth, not by a priestly incan- tation working a physical miracle. The gospels and. epistles defined and separated the two conceptions as plainly as words could do it. But no ,sooner were the apostles gone than the pagan conception of salvation by ritual, instead of by rational faith, began to creep back into the patristic church. In a few hundred years the wrong conception had triumphed completely over the correct one in nearly the whole of Christendom, and thenceforward sacramental grace has reigned supreme over the whole Roman and Greek communions, in spite of modern let- ters and culture. How startling this commentary ui)on that tendency of human nature I Surely there are deep-tseated prin- THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERT. 561 ciples in man tD account for it. These are not far to seek. First, men are sensuous beings, and hence thev naturally crave something concrete, material, and spectacular in their religion. Dominated as they are by a perpetual current of sensations, and haying their auimalitv ex- aggerated bv their sinful nature, they are sluggish to think spir- itual truths, to look by faith upon invisible objects; they i-rave to walk by sight rather than by faith. The material things in mammon, the sensual pleasures which they see with their eyes and handle with their fingers, although they perfectly know they perish with the using, obscure their view of all the infinite, eternal realities, notwithstanding their professed belief of them. Xeed we wonder that with such creatures the visible and man- ual ritual should prevail over the spiritual didactic? Does one exclaim, "But this is so unreasonable — this notion that a ritual ceremonial can change the state and destiny of a rational and moral spirit!" I reply, ''Yes, but not one whit more irrational than the preference which the whole natural world gives to the things which are seen and temporal, as it perfectly knows, over the things which are unseen and eternal; an insanity of which the educated and refined are found ju,st as capable as the ig- norant and brutish." But the other principle of human nature is still more keen and pronounced in its preference for a ritual salvation. This is its deep-seated, omnipotent preference for self-will and sin over spiritual holiness of life. The natural man has, indeed, his natural cou/science and remorse, his fear- ful looking for of judgment, his natural fear of misery, which is but modified selfishness. These make everlasting punishment very terrible to his apprehension. But enmity to God, to his spintual service, to the suprem- acy of his holy will, is as native to him as his selfish fear is. Next to perdition, there is no conception in the universe so re- liulsive to the sinful heart of man as that of genuine repentance and itis fruits. The true gospel comes to him and says: Here is, indeed, a blessed, glorious redemption, as free as air. as se- cure as the throne of God, but instrumentally it is conditional on the faith of the heart; which faith works by love, purifies the heart, and can only exist as it co-existis with genuine repent- ance, which repentance turns honestly, unreservedly, here and now, without shuffling or procrastination, from sin unto God, 562 THE ATTEACTIONS OF POPEEY. with full purpose of and endeavor after new obedience; which is, in fact, a complete surrender of the sinful will to God's holy will, and a hearty enlistment in an arduous work of watchful- ness, self-denial, and self-discipline, for the sake of inward holi- ness, to be kept up as long as life lasts. Soul, emTbrace this task, and this splendid salvation shall be yours; and the gracious Saviour, who purchases it for you, shall sustain, comfort, and enable you in this arduous enlistment, so that even in the midst of the warfare you shall find rest, and at the end heaven; but without this faith and this repentance no sacraments or rights will do a particle of good towards your salvation. Now, this carnal soul has no faith; it is utterly mistrustful and skeptical as to the possibility of this peace of the heart in the spiritual warfare, this sustaining power of the in\'iisible hand, of which it has had no experience. This complete subjugation of self- will to God, this life of self-denial and vital godliness, appears to this soul utterly repulsive, yea, terrible. This guilty usoul dreads hell; it abhors such a life only less than hell. When told by Protestantism that it must thus "turn or die." this car- nal soul finds itiself in an abhorrent dilemma; either term of the alternative is abominable to it. But now comes the theory of sacramental grace and says to it with oily tongue: "Oh I Prot- estantism exaggerates the dilemma! Your case is not near so bad! The sacraments of the church transfer you from the /state of condemnation to that of reconciliation by their own direct but mysterious efliciency; they work real grace, though you do not bring to them this deep, thoroughgoing self-sacrifice and self-consecratiim. No matter how much you sin, or how often, repeated masses will make expiation for the guilt of all those sins ex opere operato. Thus, with her other sacraments of pen- ance and extreme unction. Holy Mother Church will repair all your short-comings and put you back into a salvable state, no matter how sinfully you live." Need we wonder that this false doctrine is as sweet to that guilty soul as a repiieve to the felon at the foot of the gallows? He can draw his breath again; he can say to himself: ^'Ah, then the abhorred dilemma does not urge me here and now; I can postpone this hated reformation; I can still tamper with cherished sins without embracing per- dition." This is a pleasant doctrine; it suits so perfectly the sinful, selfish soul which does not wish to part with its sins, and also does not wish to lie down in everlasting burnings. THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPEEY. 563 This deep-seated love of siu aud self has also another re- sult: The soul is conscious that, if it must do many things which it does not like in order to avoid perdition, it is much pleasanter to do a number of ceremonial things than to do any portion of spiritual heart-work. After I stood my graduate examination in philosophy at the University of Virginia, my professor, the venerable George Tucker, showed me a chea ting- apparatus wliich had been prepared by a member of the class. He had unluckily dropped it upon the sidewalk, and it had f nind its way to the professor's hands. It was a narrow blank- book, made to be hidden in the coat-sleeve. It contained, in exceedingly small penmanship, the whole course, in the form of questions from the professor's recitations with their answers copied from the text-book. It was really a work of much labor. I said, ''The strange thing to me is, that this sorry fellow has ex- pended upon this fraud much more hard labor than would have enabled him to prepare himself for passing honestly and hon- orably." Mr. Tucker replied, "Ah, my dear sir, you forget that a dunce finds it easier to do any amount of mere manual drud- gery than the least bit of true thinking." Here we have an ex- act illustration. It is less irksome to the carnal mind to do twelve dozen paternosters tJy the beads than to do a few mo- ments of real heart-work. Thoughtless people sometimes say that the rule of Romish piety is more exacting than that of the Protestant. This is the explanation, that Rome is more exact- ing as to form and ritual; Bible religion is more exacting as to spiritual piety and vital godliness. To the carnal mind the lat- ter are almost insufferably irksome and laborious; the form and ritual, easy and tolerable. And when remorse, fear, and self- righteousnesis are gratified by the assurance that these obser- vances really promote the soul's salvation, the task is made light. Here Rome will always present an element of popularity as long as mankind are sensuous and carnal. (0.) To a shallow view, it might appear that the popish doc- trine of purgatory should be quite a repulsive element of un- popularity with sinners; that doctiine is, that notwithstanding all the benefit of the church's sacraments and the believer's ef- forts, no Christian soul goes direct to heaven when the body dies, except thoise of the martyrs, and a few eminent siiints, who are, as it were, miracles of sanctification in this life. All the 564 THE attraOtions of popery. clergy, and even the popes, must go through purgatory in spite of the apostolic succession and the infallibility. There the re- mains of carnality in all must be burned away, and the deficien- cies of their penitential work in this life made good, by endur- ing penal fires and torments for a shorter or longer time. Then the Christian souls, finally purged from depravity and the rea- urn paenae, enter into their final rest with Christ. But the alms, prayers, and masses of survivons avail much to heli3 these 'Christian souls in purgatory and shorten their sufferings. It might be supposed that the Protestant doctrine should be much more attractive aud popular, viz.: that there is no purgatory or Intermediate state for the spirits of dead men, but that the "souls of believers, being at their death made perfect in holi- ness, do immediately enter into glory.'' This ought to be the more attractive doctrine, and to Bible believers it is such, but there is a feature about it which makes it intensely unpopular and repellent to carnal men, and gives a powerful advanrage witli them to the popish scheme. That feature is, the sharpness and strictness of the alternative which the Bible doctrine press- es upon sinners: "turn or die." The Bible offers the most blessed and glorious redemption conceivable by man, gracious and free, and bestowing a con- summate blessedness the moment the body dies. But it is on these terms that the gospel must be embraced by a penitent faith, working an honest and thorough revolution in the life. If the sinner refuses this until this life ends, he seals his fate; aud that fate is final, unchangeable, and dreadful. Now, it is no consolation to the carnal heart that the gospel assures him he need not run any risk of that horrible fate; that he has only to turn and live; that very turning is the thing which he ab- hors, if it is to be done in spirit and in truth. He intensely de- sires to retain his sin and self-will. He craves earnestly to put oft" the evil day of this sacrifice without incurring the irrepara- ble penalty. Now, Rome comes to him and tells him that this Protestant doctrine is unnnecessarily harsh; that a sinner may continue in the indulgence of his sins until this life ends, and yet not seal himself up thereby to a hopeless hell; that if he is in communion with the Holy Mother Church through lier sacraments, he may indulge himself in this darling procrastina- tion without ruining himself forever. Thus the hateful neces- THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 565 sity t>f present repentance is postponed awhile; sweet, precious privilege to the sinner! True, he must expect to pay due pen- ance for that self-induloeuce in purgatory, but he need not per- ish for it. The Mother Church advises him not t3 make so bad a bargain and pay so dear for his whistle. But she assures him that, if he does, it need not ruin him, for ishe will pull liim through after a little by her merits and sacraments. How con- soling this is to the heart at once in love with sin and remorse- ful for its guilt I The seductiveness of this theory of redemp- tion to the natural heart Is proved by this grand fact, that in principle and in its essence this scheme of purgatorial cleans- ing has had a prominent place in every religion in the world that is of human invention. The Bible, the one divine religion, is peculiar in rejecting the whole concept. Those hoary reli- gions, Brahmanism and Buddhism, give their followers the vir- tual advantage of this conception in the transmigration of their souls. The guilt of the sinner's human life may be expiated by the sorrows of the soul's existence in a series of animal or rep- tile bodies, and then through another human existence, the penitent and purified soul may at last reach heaven. Classic paganism promised the same escape for sinners, as all familiar with Virgil know. His hero, Aeneas, when visiting the under world, saw many sinners there preparing for their release into the Elysiau fields, ^fo^o extrcentur poenis, et veterum malorum supplicia expendunt. Mohammed extends the same hope to all his sinful followers. For [hose who entirely reject Islam there is nothing but hell; but for all who profess 'There is no Ciod but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet," there is a purgatory after death, and its pains are shortened by his intercession. The Roman and Greek Churches flatter the sinful world with the same human invention. So strong is this craving of carnal men to postpone the issue of turning to God or perishing. ^A'e now see its effect upon the most cultured minds of this advanced nineteenth century in the New England doctrine of a "second probation." Ronu' has understood human nature skilfully, and has adapted her bait for it with consummate cunning. Her scheme is much more acute than that of the absolute universal- ist of the school of Hosea Ballou, for this outrages man's moral intuitions too grossly by rejecting all distinction between guilt and righteousness. This bait for sin-loving men is too bald. 566 THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. It must be added that the doctrine of a purgatory and of an application 3f redemption after death is intensely attractive to other principles of the human heart, much more excusable; to some affections, indeed, which are amiable. I allude to the solicitude and the affection of believers for the souls of those whom they loved in this life, "whD died and made no sign." The Bible doctrine is. indeed, a solemn, an awful one to Christians bereaved by the impenitent deaths of children and relatives. It is our duty to foresee this solemn result, and to provide against it by d:)ing everything which intercessory prayer, holy example and loving instruction and entreaty can d3 to prevent such a catastrophe in the case of all those near to our hearts. But human self-indulgence is prone to be slack in employing this safeguard against this sorrow. Let us picture to ourselves such a bereaved Christian, sincere, yet partially self-condemned, and doubtful or fearful or hopeless concerning the thorough conversion of a child who has been cut down by death. Of all the elements of bereavement none is so bitter, so immedicable, as the fear that he whom he loved must suffer the wrath of God forever, and that now he is beyjnd reach of his prayers and help. To such a one comes the Romish priest with this species of discourse. See now how harsh and cruel is this here- tical Protestant dogma I Instead of offering consolation to your Christian sorrow it embitters it as with a drop of hell fire. But Holy Mother Church is a mild and loving comforter; she assures you that yaur loved one is not necessarily lost; he may have to endure keen penances in purgatory for a time, but there is a glorious hope to sustain him and you under tliem. Every minute of pain is bringing the final heaven nearer, and the most blessed part of our teaching is that your love can still follow him and help him and bless, as it was wont to do under those earthly chastisements of his sins. It is your privilege still to pray for him. and your prayers avail to lighten his sufferings and to shorten them. Your love can still find that generous solace which was always so sweet to you amidst yttur former sorrows for his sins and his earthly sufferings — the solace of helping him and sharing his pains. Your alms also may avail for him: masses can be multiplied by your means, which will make merit to atone for his penitential guilt and hasten his blessed release. Who can doubt that a loving heart will be THE ATTRACTIONS OF POPERY. 567 powerfully seduced by this promise, provided it can persuade itself of its certaiuty, or even of its probable truth? Here is the stron<;h3ld of Romanism on sincere, amiable, and affection- ate souls. Of course, the real question is, whether any pastor or priest is authorized by God to hold out these hopes to the be- reaved. If they are unwarrantable, then this presentation is an artifice of unspeakable cruelty and profanity. Under the pre- tence of softening: the pain of bereavement to God's children, if is adding to wicked deception the most mischievous influences upon the living by contradicting those solemn incentives to im- mediate repentance which God has set up in his word, and by tempting deluded souls with a false hope to neglect their real opportunity. If the h3pe is not grounded in the word of God, then its cruelty is equal to its deceitfulness. But the sutt'ering heart is often weak, and it is easier to yield to the temptation of accepting a deceitful consolation than to brace itself up to the plain but stern duty of ascertaining God's truth. I have thus set in array the influences which Rome is now wielding through )ut our country for the seduction of human souls. Some of these weapons Protestants put into her hands by their own unfaithfulness and folly. God has a right to blame Rome for using this species of weapon in favor of the wrong cause, but these Protestants have not. There is another class of weapons which Rome finds in the iblindness and sinfulness of human nature. Her guilt may be justly summed up in this statement: That these are precisely the errors and crimes of humanity which the church of Christ should have labored to suppress and extirpate; whereas Rome caters to them and fosters them in order to use them for her aggrandizement. Rut none the less are these weapons potent. They are exactly adapted to the nature of fallen man. As they always have been successful, they will continue to succeed in this country. Our republican i-ivil constitutions will prove no adequate shield against them. Our rationalistic culture, by weakening the authority of God's word, is only opening the way for their ulterior victory. Our scriptural ecclesiastical order will be no sufficient bulwark. The primitive churches had that liulwark in its strongest Presbyterian form, but poi)ery steadily undermined it. What if did once it can do again. There will be no effectual check upon another spread of this error except the work of the Holy Ghost. True and powerful revivals will save American Protestantism; nothing else will. THE INFLUENCE OF FALSE PHILOSOPHIES UPON CHAKACTER AND CONDUCT.' Tboughrful men who read the vai'ious st-hools of philosophy are struck with one feature common to the erroneous theories. This is the Icfh' assumption bv their authors of complete irre- sponsibility for results. Let the corollaries of their positions be destructive to either ethics or theology, that does not con- cern them. They say, philosophy has its supreme rights, let them prevail, whatever else perishes. This, of course, clearly implies the cool assumption by each author that his philosoph}' is the al)solutely true one; which again implies that he believes himself infallible in it. Yet each contradicts the sound phil- osophers, and also each of his fellow heretics. Schwegler dis- dains all the great scholastics, pronouncing them incapable jf real philosophy, because they avowed the supremacy of the Roman theology over all speculation. He evidently knows lit- tle about them, or he would have been aware how little their license of philosophic speculation was really curbed by pre- tended respect for Bible, councils, or popes. They could al- ways evade their restraints by their distinction — that what was theologically true, might yet be philosophically false. Xow it is as plain as common sense can make it, that if there are any propositions of natural theology logically estab- lished, if any principle of ethics impreguably grounded in man's universal, necesisary judgments, if any infallible revelation, any philosophy that conflicts with either of the.se is thereby proven false. Xow, I believe there is an infallible revelation. There- fore, unless I am willing to become infidel, the pretended phil- osopher who impinges against revelation has no claim on me to be even listened to, much less believed; unless he has proved himself infallible. There are also fundamental moral principles supported by the universal experience and consent of mankind, and regulating the laws of all civilized nations in all ages. All 1 Appeared in Homiletic Review, January, 1896. 568 THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 569 human history and God's Word testify, moreover, that the dom- imincj^ of these moral principles is the supreme end for which the universe exists, and for which Providence rules (read But- ler's ''Analogy"). The rule of God's final judgment is to be: everlasting goiod to the righteous, condemnation to the wicked. Here then is a criterion, as firmly estaiblished as the founda- tiofUiS of human reason and the pillars of God's throne. He who discards this criterion makes man a reasonless 'brute, and the world an atheistic chaos; that man has no longer any right to any philosophy, any more than a pig. For has he not discarded the essential conditions of all philosophy, intuitive reasons in man, and rational order in the series of causes and effects? We may, therefore, safely adopt this criterion as a touchstone for every philosophy — that if it unsettles cionscience and God, it is erroneous. I have now brought my reader to the eminent point of view from which he sees that the real tendency of all false philosophy must, in the end, be against good morals and religion. Lord Bac«n has nobly said that all the lines of true philosophy con- verge upward to God. The ethical criterion, which is the final, supreme rule of God, mankind, and the universe, must be the apex of a true philosophy. The philosophic lines which curve aside from God and right morals must therefore, in the end, pervert character and conduct. I shall be told that many speculators, whose philosophy I hold wrong, lived better lives, perhaps, than mine. A Spinoza, a Fichte, a Littre, a Stuart Mill, a Tyndall, were virtuous men; even Helvetius was an amiable neighbor, and an honest fiscal officer. Granted. Again, they resent my conclusion, as a big- ot's insult, and a tyrannical ^bond upon philosophic freedom of thought. I reply: Nobody has any freedom rightfully to think against God and righteousness. I reply again: I have assert- ed this evil tendency, as only a tendeaicy, in many, not always a present result. Personally, I am glad to give full credit to the goiod character of individual opponents. Again, the virtues of these errorists were really the fruits of the side influences and social habitudes of the very religion and philosophy which they tried to discard. Spin6za was reared by Jewish parents under monotheism and the ten commandments. Fichte, like Kant, was a candidate for the Lutheran ministry. Tyndall and Dra- 570 THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. per were both sons of pious mou-conformist ministers in Eng- land. But tlie real question is: What of the moral influence of their philosophies on the untrained and ignorant masses? Lastly, whatever the civic virtue of these gentlemen, none of them ever pretended to spiritual .sanctity; wliicli is the higher and only immortal phase of virtue. The character which re- gards man, the less, but disregards God, the greater, can not be wholly sound, and can not retain its partial soundness per- manentlj'. This is the inspired argument; and it is a fortiori: "A son honareth his father, and a servant his master; if then I be a father, where is mine honor? and if I be a master, where is my fear? saith the Lord of hosts unto you, O prieS'ts, that despise my name" (Mai. i. 6). I. A question concerning the influence of a false philoso- jtliy may be tried historically. Here are the facts. The national philosophy of China is that of Confucius, which, we are told, is simply modern agnosticism. The civil administration of China, and the domestic morals, are rotten with corrujjtion. Lying, oi)ium drunkenness, cruelty, bribery, cheating, infanti- cide are current. India has a great and ancient philosophy — pantheism. Her religions, Brahmanism and Buddhism, are pantheistic. When the British went there, despotism, bribery, polygamy, the suttee, infanticide, ofiicial plunderiugs, lying, and cheating were prevalent institutions. Oaths in court count- ed for nothing at all in administering justice. Thuggism was a religion. In Greece, the sounder philosophy was supplanted by that of the E})icureans, Sophists, Skeptics, and the New Academy. Then the glory departed, and Greece ^became vile enough for her slavery. Then Roman virtue also died, and a vast moral rottenness brought on the ''decline and fall' of the empire. In the eighteenth century, France adopted the sensu- alist philosophy of Voltaire, and the selfish ethics of Helvetius. The fruit was the Keign of Terror. In Russia, the Nihilism of Bakunin is a philosophy, that, namely, of materialism and ag- nosticism; its products are anarchy, i»rostitution, and assas- sination. The same philosophy has shown us the same fruits in Paris. New York, and Chicago. Lastly, everybody sorrow- fully admits the decadence of political, commercial, and domes- tic virtue in this country. We need not detail the melancholy instances, or paint the contrast between the Americans of to- THE INFLUElSrCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 571 day and the America of Monroe and J. Q. Adams. Since the hitter epocli, the philosophy of Conite, Stuart Mill, and Darwin haiS been rapidly gaining ground. Shall I be told that these are only chance coincidences and nor causal sequences? According to the inductive lagic, se- quences so regularly recurring raise a strong probability, if not a certainty, of a true causal relation. Again, could instances be adduced of the reverse order, where the incoming lof a true l)hil(Ksop'hy resulted in a decay of morals, our opponents might have some offset to our facts: but there are no such cases. II. And I now proceed to shiow that the sequences are causal, by disclosing in these false philosophies obvious causes of corruption. Here an important fact should be brought forward. ]\Ian's moral nature is diseased. Some perversion of will is inherited by every man. Hence, farther moral decay is natural and easy; while the ascent back toward a higher virtue is arduous. Hu- man souls are like a loaded train upon a down grade, whose slight inclination, below the horizioutal, increaises as it advances. The natural tendency of the train is to descend slowly at first, then with accelerated speed toward the final crash. A good brake (a true philosophy) is quite efficient to keep the train sta- tionary; thus much of good it can do. But the 'best brake can not push the train upgrade, while a false lone, failing to lock the wheels, insures the descent and ruin of the train. Divine grace furnishes the omly sure power for driving the train up- ward against nature. I know that it is the trick of all erroneous philosophies to (miit or deny this natural evil qualifying the moral disposition of man; tio pretend not to see it, to philosophize as though right- eouisness were as natural to man as sin is. To this arrogancy I shall not yield am inch. As a philosophic analysis, it is false; it dishonestly refuses to see a fact in human nature as plain and large as any other fact in psychology. This evil disposition now qualifying man's essentia is as clearly proved as any other fundamental instinct, faculty, lor appetency. How do they find out that man, unlike the i)ig or the ox, is an esthetic creature? In the very same way, were they consistent, they should find out that he is by nature a sinning creature. All human experi- ence, all expedients of legislation, all history, every candid con- 572 THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. sciousness, confirm it. I say, therefore, plainly, that I shall postulate, throughout this discussion, this tendency in man toward moral decadence. It is a fact, and my argument shall be that eA-ery dogma in theology, philosophy, politics, or busi- ness, which lifts off the soul any form of moral restraint, tends to moral corruption. Let us see whether each of these false philosophies does not abolish some moral check. The key-note of Buddhism is, that since feeble man's pur- suit of the rjibjects of his appetencies results in failure and pain, his true virtue is to annihilate all appetencies, and thus win nirvana. Then, of cour-se, not only the animal, but the social ap- petencies— ^sympathy, benevolence, pity, friendship, conjugal, filial, and even parental love — must be expunged out of the philosopher's soul in order to make him holy, forsooth! For the appetencies set in motion by these affections are the occa- sions of far the deepest and most pungent grief?; of human ex- istence. That is to say: the Buddhist saint, in order to be per- fect, must make himself a cold, inhuman villain, recreant to ev- ery social duty. Such, indeed, their own history makes their chief "hero of the faith.'' Prince Gautama, who begins his saint- ship by absconding like a coward, and forsaking all his duties to his wife, his son, his concubines, his parents, and his subjects. But they say he afterward showed sublime altruism by offering his body to be eaten by a hungry tigress, which had not suc- ceeded in torturing and devouring enough antelopes to make milk for her cubs. Bah I methinks he would have done better to care for his own deserted human cub I Once more, the scheme founds itself on an impossibility, ^[an can not by his volition expunge native appetencies, be- cause these furnish the only springs of volitions. Can the child be its own father? Eating results in dyspepsia; therefore, not only cease eating absolutely, but cease being hungry. That is the recipe for the distress of dyspepsia! But first, it i.s impos- sible; second, were it done, all mankind would be destroyed in a few weeks. Common sense says that when a man goes to pro- fessing the impossible he begins to be a cheat. And this is the practical trait of Buddhism. They say the doctrine of transmigration is a great moral check, teaching the Hindus to avoid sin by the fear of migrating at death into some more miserable animal form. Is it not a THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 673 better check to teach them that at death they will at ouce staud in judgment before an all-wise, just, and almighty Judge? May not that Buddhist doctrine also frequently incite living men to the fiercest brutality to animals, by the supposition that those animals are now animated by the souls of hated enemies? The pantheism of China, India, and the modems has com- mon moral features. And the fatal influences are so plain that, while they are of vast and dreadful importance, they may be despatched in few words. Then, first, when I act, it is God acting. You must not cDudemn me, whatever villainies I act, because that would be condemning God! Second, whatever men and devils act is but God acting. Then where is the possibility of God's having, in himself, any rational standard of right, by which to condemn our sins? Does God's will in himself judge and condemn his same will emitted in our actions? Or can that will be any moral standard at all which is thus self-contradictory? Such a moral ruler would be worse for the pulpit, than none at all — atheism less confusing and corrupting than pantheism. Third, God's existence and actions are necessary, if any actions are; but God acting, I have no free agency. But if not a free agent, I can not be justly accountable. Fourth, God is an abs9lute unit and unchangeable being, eternal and necessary. There- fore, if all happiness and misery in creatures are, at bottom, God's own affections, there can be no real difference between happiness and misery (Spinoza's own corollary). What will be the effect of this inference upon that excellent quality, mercy? The dogma must breed indifference ta others' suffering, as much as stoicism under one's own. Its tendency is toward a hard- heartedness as pitiless as the tiger, the fire, and the tempest. Fifth, if God is all, there is but one substance in the universe. All other seeming personal beings are modal manifestations of the One. Hence, each creature is but a temporary phenomenon, a wavelet upon this ocean of being. Death, therefore, is a re- absorption into the One. It is nirvana, the absolute, eternal extinction of personality and consciousness — thus all panthe- ists. Then for this other reason there can be no personal re- sponsibility, or reward, or punishment in the future. All the moral restraints of the doctrine of future judgment are as much swept away as by atheism. 574 THE INFLtlENCE Of MORAL PHILOSOPHY. We must be brief. Hartinanu and Schopenhauer have shown that idealistic pantheism must lead to pessimism. But all our new-fangled philosophies seem to think pessimism a very naughty thing. It is their favorite bad word, with which to pelt a Calvinist, a conservative, or an3' other wh^m they di.>- like — to cry: "Oh. he is a pessimist!" But seriously, is pessim- ism a hopeful or healthv outlook for a good man? What room does it leave for the tria of supreme virtues: faith, hope, and charity? On this head it is enough to name the charge, often and justly made against the Darwinian doctrine of the "su?- vival of the fittest/' and the fated extinction of the naturally weaker; that it tends to produce a pitiless hardheartedness. Tbe inference is logical; look and see. The old saw, "'Extremes meet," was never truer than it is of pantheism and atheism. The latter says: "There is no Gad at all"; the former: "Everything is God." But the moral re- sults of both are closely akin. In this, my indictment includes genuine Darwinism; for there is now no doubt that Dr. Darwin, like his most consistent pupils, Haeckel, Buchner, etc.. believ- ed that the doctrine ought to exclude both spirit and Gad. Their logic is consistent; for if all teleology is 'banished out of na- ture, and if that in man which thinks, feels, and wills is but an evolution of brute impulses, inherent in sensorial matter, there is no spiritual substance. We must have materialistic monism. Then every moral restraint arising out of the expec- tation of future responsibility, rewards, and punish- ments, is utterly swept awa}'. Whj^ should men conclude anything but. "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we dieV"" To borrow Carlyle"s rough phrasing: "If mine is a pig's destiny, why may I not hold this -pig philosophy"?" Again, if I am but an animal refined by evolution. I am entitled to live an animal life. Why not? The leaders in this and the sensualistic philosophy may themselves be restrained by their habits of mental culture, social discretion and personal refinement (for which they are indebted to reflex Christian influences); but the herd of common mortals are not cultured and refined, and in them the doctrine will bear its deadly fruit. Our opponents say that they can discard these jld-fash- ioned restraints of theologic superstitions, and apply better and THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 675 more refined checks upon the coarser vices, Aiz., by showing- men that the refined pleasures of temperance, esthetic tastes, cul- ture, and altruism are higher and sweeter than the coarse plea- sures of vice; and that the two classes are incompatible, so that the lower should be sticrificed for the higher. Yes; the world has known of that subterfuge from the days lof Epicurus; and Imows its worthlessness. Here is the fatal reply; and its logic is plain enough to 'be grasped by the coarsest: '^porcus de grege. Epicuri cute bene curataP Refined Mr. Epicurus, it depends entirely upon each man's natural constitutional tastes which ckiss of pleasures shall be to him highest and sweetest. You say that to you music, art, letters are such; you were born so. I am so born that these are but "•caviare'' to me, while my best pleasures are gluttony, drink, lust, gambling, and prize-fights. The philosopher is answered. Little space remains to me for unmasking the e\il tenden- cies of other sensualistic, expediency, and utilitarian i>hiloso- phies. The reader must take hints. Their common key-note is : no a priroi, common, ruling intuitions of necessary, rational truths, either logical or moral. Nihil in intellectu quod non prius in sensu. Very well! Neither spirit nor God is cognized by any sense-faculty. Therefore, philosophy should Icnow noth- ing about either, b^econdly, the concept of the moral good, or virtuousness in actions, is not cognized by any sense-faculty. Is it seen as a fine color, smelled as a perfume, heard with the ears as a harmony, tasted with the mouth as a savor, felt with the fingers as satin or velvet? No. Then philosophy should know nothing at)out it. It should say there are no such things in the soul as distinctly ethical feelings; nothing but sensitive ones and their combinations. For mind can only feel as it sees; where it sees nothing it should feel nothing. Then there are two results; there is no science of ethics, nothing but a psych- ology of sensibilities, which being merely personal, there is no source for any altruism; it is a silly fiction. And, next, since the sensibilities are only moved by objective causes, there is no free agency. Look and see. Hume was logical in 'becom- ing fatalist and atheist. So Hobbes, the father of modern sen- sualism. Finally, there is a modem class of professed religionists who seem to regard Mill, Darwin, Spencer, and Huxley as very 576 THE INFLtlENCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. apostles of philosophy (wh^-, we know not); and when thereaf- ter proclaiming- their agnosticism, add, that they still leave i-oom for religion; that while religion has no stauding-grr>nnd in philosiophy, she may be admitted in the sphere of feeling. Our pious neighbors are very thankful! This is the "advanced thought" destined to sweep everything before it; and we are so grateful that it still leaves us a corner for our dear religion! But common sense says: "Thank you for nothing, Messrs. Ag- noistics. You have not left any comer for our precious religion. Better speak out as honest atheists. The universal law of mind is that it can only feel normally as it sees intelligently. ^Yhere there is no logical ground for credence, there should be no source for feeling." In trutli, they let me keep my religion at the price of turn- ing fool! THE SAN MARCOS RIVER. Mysterious river! whence thy bidden source? The rain drops from far-distant field and fell. Urging through countless paths their darkling course. Combine their tiny gifts thy flood to swell. What secrets hath thy subterranean stream Beheld; as it has bathed the deepest feet Of everlasting hills, which never beam Of sun or star or lightning's flash did greet? Over what cliffs rushed rhou in headlong fall Into some gulf of Erebus so deep Thy very foam was black as midnight's pall; And massive roof of rock and mountain steep Suppressed thy thunders, so that the quick ears Of fauns recumbent on its lofty side Heard not: and grass blades, laden with the tears Of night dews, felt no quiver from thy tide? Through days and weeks, uncounted by the sun, Thy waters in abysmal caves have lain In slow lustration, ere they sought to run Forth to the day, purged from earth's least stain. Pallas- Athene of the i-ivers, thou! Who leapest adult in thy glittering might From yonder hoary mountain. Zeus' brow. Whose cloven crags parted to give thee light. Thou teachest us. wise virgin; as through caves, Sad and tear-dropping, steal thy sobbing waves, Then flash to day; so virtue's weeping night Shall surely break into the dawn's delight. Emblem, thou, of maiden's love. Buried deep in modest heart; Growing there to secret strength. Hiding, swelling, till at length Its Lord's caresses bid it start To life and joy! Then forth it springs. Circling glad in radiant rings; Bliss and fruitfulness it brings. Naiad bright, so deckest thou With wedding wreaths thy shining brow. Trailing ever verdant bands Of fern and lily; as the lands Thou weddest with thy close embrace, In thy laughing, seaward race. 578 THE SAN MARCOS RIVER. Or dost tliou tell us of a sterner tbeiue? How souls of heroes, like thy forceful stream. Are bred and nursed in silence and the night. Fed from the rills of secret pra.ver; their mi.ght Recruited iu grim strife with foes concealed: rntil. in fearful hour, the earthquake shock. Of war. or civic crisis, cleave the rock. Then, startling foe and friend, they move revealed In beauty terrible, as pure as strong: But seek the ocean of eternity (Too soon, alas!) to which their names belong. Oh. flood! though earth-born, thou dost seek the sky, And this is thy prime lesson: On our tomb Our resurrection waits: our souls shall fly To heaven's sunlight from its blackest gloom. This is the highest, this the noblest hope, To publish which thy secret caverns ope. THE DEATH OF MOSES, i The .am stood flaming o'er the western deep. Dyeiii.u' its tri)!tj;s of fliuds and purple plain With red and liold: while up the lower steep Of Neho. stole the slanting- shade, to gain His naked brow. Then c-ame there up to meet The evening rays a reverend man. with step Sedate, but grand: and sncadfast eyes' which greet The opposing sun. mournful, yet strong to face His tierces.t beams. His loeks and beard are white As Hermon's erest. whieh props the northward sky: Yet limb and feature move instim-t with might Of manhood, and the soul that doth nor die. On topmost height - he pauses, pedestal meet For Israel's Prophet King, the goodliest man Earth ever saw. since Adam from his seat Reviewed his Paradise. Thus, he to scan The scene stood long, then spake:— "The heritage To Abram pledged^ 1 see: oh goodly land. To which our Patriarchs turned from age to age With longing faith, to which my guiding hand Hath led the ffribes. as sires* their infant charge. For forty weary years, through burning sands. • Thy face how grand, thy boundaries, how large! Not like those pastures where we wore the bonds Of our disgrace, parched with torrid heats. Or drenched 3 with turbid floods. But thoji dost drink 6 From crystal founts that hold their airy sea'ts In Heaven, fed from old ocean's farthest brink. Thy features how harmonious., yet sublime! Northward a wall of green, whose summits pierce The lofty heavens. I see: but ere they climb Into the clouds, put on a robe diverse. Can earth-born things assume a garb so pure? How do blacK scar, and tawny peak outvie The fairest tints of doudland. yet endure. I'nmoved amid their change, the while the sky Doth ki.<.s the earth! 'Tis Hermon clad^ in snow. Celestial raiment, woven of frozen dew. 1 Appeared in Union Hem'Tiary Magazine IDuet. 34:7. 2 Duet. :?:27. 3 Gen. 17:8. 4 Duet. 1:31. 5 Duet. ll:lii 6 Duet. 11:1], 7Jer. 18:14. 580 THE DEATH OF MOSES. (A sight which swelteriu.y Egypt could not know) In awful beauty, here mine eye doth view. The Giant preacheth to thee, Oh, my soul! Thus must God's robe of heavenly righteousness. Blood-washed, rhiue earthly soil of sin enroll. Ere thou cans't soar and meet the skies in peace. This side the mighty ramparts' foot, behold The upper lake, mid its encircling hills. Gleams like n mirror, which enameted gold Binds with its rim. Here Jordan lights His verdant vale with many a sinuous coil. Beyond, hills rise and fertile valleys spread And plains expand, teeming^ with wine and oil And plenteous corn; whose glittering streams are fed From springs perennial, mounts like billowy waves Which winter's breath congealed e'en as they rose, I see; within whose veins and darkling caves Lie riches, matching what their fields enclose. Iron and ruddy brass - Here, at my feet. Sheer down two thousand cubits, sullen sleeps The lake of doom, (hemmed in by borders meet Of savage crags and thunder riven lieap.s) Above the accursed cities of the plain. Beyond those ridges spreads an azure band. Which shows us where old ocean doth restrain The western margin of the utmost land. Here is thy hame, Oh Israel! here thy rest. In these green vales thy dwelling thou shalt plant. And on these swelling hills thy God hath blest. Here shalt thou guard the holy covenant I gave you, taught by future line of seers; While peace shall multiply thy teeming seed To fill the land, until the promised tears Of Shiloh ^ come; whose hand divine shall lead Your hosts, and wield at once my kingly rod. The Prophets crook, and Aaron's censer lit With heavenly flame; and shed that awful blood (Which meaner S:treams where e'er our altars sit. Dimly foreshadow,) that shall cleanse the world. From yonder hills, with Israel's temple crowned. Messiah's flag of peace shall be unfurled. While earths remotest nations gather round To catch his gospel light, and learn* his ways. The Sun of Righteousness shall, on that hill. Hold his fixed zenith, and from thence his rays With light and holiness and peace shall fill All gentile lands, the foul and bloody seat 1 Duet. 11:14-9. -' Duet. 8:9. 3 Gen. 49:10. 4 Isaiah I'Sl-A. Lsa. 62:10. THE DEATH OF MOSES. 581 Of the usurper Satan. Israel's race, Nation of Prie and life"? I must not cross this flood. Nor share those joys, debarred by my offense. Once small appearing; till thy chastening rod, Oh Father, taught me. and the clearer sense • My conscience gains from heaven's approaching light. I bow my guilty head; for thou hadst placed My state so high, no trespass could be slight Which I might work, nor folly, which disgraced Thy power, deputed to my creature hand. Just is my sentence, black my sin with pride And heat- forgetful of thy strict command. So thy sole glory fam would I divide 1 Duet. 33:5. 2 Num. 20:10. THE DEATH OF MOSRP. TlcSH Betwixt myself and tlioo. Oh wish profane! As though thy rod of power were mine to wield. Blessed be God! 'tis not a wrathful' blow Which smites my sin, but those soft strokes that yield Medicinal cure: And that blest stream which tlows Along the ages from his smitten rock,3 Pretigured by the meaner blood we draw From dying substitutes of herd or flock. Hath washed nie white from guilt of broken law. Thou chastening, pitying (Jod. I bow to thee In peace supreme, my fond desire recall From earth and time, to find in Heaven and thee My home, my land, my church, my all in all! Now earth, and sea, and sky, and sun, farewell! I look my last, nor would tlie look renew. A fairer scene tlian Canaan casts its spell On my enraptured spirit. To my view A piirer radiance rises, at whose beams Yon sinking orb looks dull. I see from whence This flood ineffable of glory streams, Not by corporeal eyes, but inner sense Of spiritual sight, which to my soul reveals. The Heavenly gates, whiter than Hermon's snow. And loftier than his peaks. And from them peals Celestial harmony, whose accents flow In mingled strains, so soft, so high, so clear. Our Sanctuary's psalms discordant sound. Earth, thou are nauiglit.^ My I'avished lie.nt and ear Forget thy charms. T'pun this verdant ground I lay me down, weak with excess of bliss. To drink the glory in with steady gaze. The vision brigliter glows. What trance is this, Which thus exliausts my soul with glad amaze? I feel the fanning wings of Cherubim, I bear their voices whisper: •'Bi'other, couie!" Now death - tliuu vaniiuished foe. lead me to Him Whose bosom is my everlasting home. Mose.s dies Satiin iippears rising from a darli ravine to seizes his body, but Michael witli a troop of Angels repulses him with majestic and grave rebul^e; whereupon his company bear away the corpse to its burial.4 chanting a hymn to Messiah. 3 1 Cor. 10:4. 1 Ps. 73::25-26. 2 Duet. :i4:h. ;! Ep of Jude v. ',). i Duet. 34:6. THE CHRISTIAN WOMANS DROWNING HYMN. A MONODY. (A Christ i:iu lady aud organist, weut .Inly. 1886. with, and at the request of her sister, for a few days" excursion to Indianola. They arrived the day before the great night storm and tidal wave, which submerged the town. Both the ladies and children, after hours of fearful suspense, were drowned, the house where they sought refuge being broken to pieces in the waves. A survivor stated that the or- ganist spent much of the interval in most moving prayer. Their re- mains were recovered on the subsidence of the tempest, and interred at their homes., amidst universally solemn and tender sympathy. The following verses are imagined, as expressing the emotions of the Christian wife, sister and mother, during her long struggle with the waters:) Sister, awake! Oh list! there is a change: The moon, whose flood of light, at eventide Made of the placid sea an ans-wering range Of star-lit sky, the upper heavens beside; Sheds now its fitful gleams through angry rifts. The fanning breezes that caressed our locks Are swollen to a gale, on which there drifts The s.hriek of drowning men; and sullen shocks Of waves, like trampling hosts, as.sault the groujid— Oh hear beneath the hollow, deep sea-moan Sob of unrest eternal! where doth sound The smothered agony, and parting groan Of all the dead that ocean's caverns keep. Our hearts, oh! sister, yesterday were bright As was the sun-lit surface of the deep: Our mirth was like its ripples tipped with light — AYe thought but in this summer-sea to lave. Our members fevered by the dog-star's ray. And yet, beneath our laughter's rippling wave My spirit heard a moan, which seemed to say In tone half-felt, unreasoning; beware! Thou art the type, thou beauteous, treacherous sea Of mortals' lives, whose sunny joys show fair But to prelude the the storm. I Come, let us flee! See these intrusive surges, each more nigh Thau its audacious fellow! Sister, come! BAPTISMAL HYMN. 585 Too late, thou sayestV 'Ere now the breakers fly, Crowned with crashing wrecks and seething foam, Across that narrow isthmus, where alone Our path to safety lay. Remorseless deep. Thy cunning, faithless work, thou hast well done. We are thy helpless prey, which thou wilt keep Fast caught in thine embrace, to wait the death Thy fierce yet stealthy tread will bring. Oh fate So sudden, unforeseen! to end our breath In our strong prime! To set so short a date, One eve. betwixt our joy and our despair! Insidious foe: kuewest thou that manly breast. Those nervous, sheltering arms are absent far. Which even thy mighty rage would dare contest For her he loved? Against two women weak. Two frightened babes, inexorable king, Resounds thy diapason dread, the shriek Of wailing beasts, that bear upon their wings The hissing spray, and thunder of thy hosts To drown our puny cry. So with thy shout. From far-off tropic deeps and Carib-coasts Thy huge reserve of floods thou callest out To whelm these helpless lives. Our bruised limbs And garments rent are tossed like leaves that float On autumn blasts; while ever nearer climbs Thy cruel, lapping wave, to clutch our throat. Yea. thou art mighty in thy rage, oh sea! Thou, atheist Titan, wouldst assault the sky And fain wouldst bid the frighted stars to flee From thy vast tumult! But they do not fly! Between the storm-rent clouds I see their beams. Slender but steadfast, and serene as clear, Disdam thy brutal wrath: and with them streams That still, small voice believing spirits hear; Soft, but more potent than thy deaf'ning roar. It is thy Master's voice, insurgent deep. Who sits above those stars, who shuts the door. Or opens to the storm, who bids thee keep Thy subject bounds, and measures all thy flood In his mere palm; when he bids. "Peace; be still:" Thy waves shall crouch like beasts, beneath his rod. Thou tossest wide thy billows' hands to kill. The everlasting arms enfold and keep My better life; Jehovah, he who guides Yon starry worlds, as shepherds lead their sheep. Inspires my psalm of faith, above the tides Of thy vain tumult, ringing high and clear, ' 586 BAPTISMAL HYMN. Belov'il on eartli. f;irewelll ()li beaveuly spouse I oomel tliy voice dorb cast out all my fear And charms my soul aloft. Thy will allows To the devourer, naught but this poor clay. Earth-born like it. Then, take it. ravenous seal Thy futile s-poil; thou hast an empty prey. Even this for a day— nor shall it be The food of thy sea monsters, nor be drawn To thy dark caverns. This my soul foresees. Grown prescient in the liiiht of heaven's near dawn. Whilst thou shalr cower at my Lord's decrees Back to thy kennels, this poor frame shall lie Embalmed In loving tears, and take its rest Beneath the tiowers and sheltering groves, hard by The peaceful homes of men: and temples blest Of Christ: until his resurrection-morn And that new wor:,!. when "Seas shall be no more. Thus, from thy stormiest crest, with holy scorn. I mount to peaceful mansions, where thy roar No more shall reach, than to yun starry orbs. A SONNET TO LEE. Israel oue David, Arlieus oue IVrieles. Thebes one Epaminordas could produce. Thy State, O, Lee, of greatness, more profuse, Nurtured two Washingtous upon her knees; The tirst to crown on earth his God did please; But thy reward was set thee in the skies. Sterner thy fate than Jackson's; him to I'ise And fee: no fall, appointed Heaven's decrees. From thy high noon thou turnedst to the west. By clouds infolded, thunderous and dark. Which yet. reluctant, spread around thy rest. Purple and golden glories, prescient mark Of that eternal radiance which hath blest Thy soul, beyond our sun's inferior arc. GENERAL T. J. JACKSON. AN ELEGY, 1887. Six days our hearts ftood still with keen snspi'usi': Our champion lay sore smitten of God's hand. The seventh, our hope was slain, for he was deadi Our prayers were vain; and now our palsied sense Knows not our grief to utter. Weep. O land! Who shall inspire thy threnody, and wed Thy wails to numbers mournful as thy breast? Invoke no pagan Muse, whose fabled sigh And painted tear but mimic woe sincere. Come rather, thou, the Spirit who dost rest In truth's, eternal seat; it was thine eye Illumined him we mourn: and thy pure fear His greatness was. Thee then, we call to teach Our pain tit voice, who didst thy seer's lament Attune to chant meet dirge for Ziou's fall. "Oh that our heads were watersi" Then might reach Our floods of tears to the full argument Of our calamity, as we recall. In contrast black, our hero's glorious morn With this drear night that clouds it at midday. But twice twelve moons before. A'irginia said: "Hither my sons to meet the invaders' scorn I They deem we withered in obscure decay. My bosom dry of that proud milk that fed My Washingtons and Henrys. O'er my head They shake the loathed scourge, as though to sway To slavery this soul to freedom born." Then of her- myriads, rallying to her cry. Our mother's instinct owned him foremost son. Modest as prompt, with spirit trained to might In secret prayer, with Bayard's chivalry Of faith begotten; with a valor won From God's own strength and truth's serenest light. She gave her banner to his. stainless hand. Thence, like the day-star blazed he in her front: His sweep, the wind's, his stroke the knell of fate To them who durst pollute her sacred land. Onward and upward, through the war-cloud's brunt. He soared with steady wing, as though to' instate GENERAL T. J. JACKSON. ^89 Her flag in freedom's peaceful citadel. TJaen, midst his loftiest fliglit, our eagle fell! That we were fall'n with him we learned too late. Yea, bow, O Lee, in grief that kingly front To which all others bent; and weep thou drops Such as were shed by Israel's warrior king. For Jonathan and Saul the highty shiiu. For now from thy right side disaster lops The arm which wont thy victories to bring; And could thy grandest purposes explain In grander deeds. Yea, weep thou hoary chief! For with his parting soul success hath flown. To come no more. Not that thy worth is less, Or patriot- will to win thy land relief; Nor all thy heroes with their pattern gone. Still shall ye toil and die; but full success No more shall crown these toils, stanch as his own. Still shall your gallant struggles honor save, Losing all el.se. And weep, ye rugged hosts. Who laughed in battle's dead-lock: He is gone Whose shout worth fresh battalions: "On ye brave!" Inspired your charge. Weep too, ye martial ghosts, Who, parting from your bleeding flesh, were glad That he still battles to avenge your fall. For none remain that vengeance to demand, Until the heavenly court's decree be had. But chiefest thou, Virginia, round thee call Thy mourning women; drape thy widowed laud In blackest weeds, and let thy eyes be wells Of bitter waters. Yea, and thou didst mourn! Twice didst thou bury him; thy maids with flowers. Thy elders with his mother-earth. Thy bells With dismal stroke and cannons' bellowing groan Measured thy funeral step, as all thy powers L"nrolled their gloomy ranks. But hadst thou seen with his presaging eye. How much was lost with him; hadst broke the seal Of fate for thy succeeding years, and read As he had read, that thy best sons should die. Yet win no rescue for the commonweal By their rich blood, as vain, as freely shed: How conquerors, ruthless in their pride of power. Should trample thy fair neck, whose queenly foot Found rightful place upon the oppressor's liead: Cunning and malice rule the dismal hour Of thine eclipse, and fraud and force uproot Each right implanted by thy fathers dead: How doltish serfs and alien thieves should foul 590 GENERAL T. J. JACKSON. Thy seats of power, once by thy sages graced; While all thy noblest, fairest, wisest sank In want obscure, hounded by slanderous howl: And worst, how some, thy sons, whom thou hadsr pl.KM d 'Neath thy free banner, in the honored rank Of thy defenders, wooed by filthy greed. Should aid. Oh shame! their mother's chains to draw: Hadst thou seen this as thy dead champion saw: (And that it might not be was fain to bleed) Then hadst thou wept, not tears of brine, but blood! Yea, woeful mother, weep! There is no herb. Euphrasy, rue, nor balsam, that can buy Health for thy deadly hurt; this saw thy Lee: Hence in the battle's edge the end superb Of those who for, and with their country die. He sought, but could not find; thus God's decree. So as he must not fall, nor could endure To see the glories bought with fathers' blood So foully ravaged, lost beyond recall, His mighty heart-strings brake, his spirit pure AVeut up where wrongs no more oppress the good. Lift up thy wail. Virginia; thy stone wall Thy tower of strength is prostrate. Mothers, weep: Who for your country gave your bodies' fruit. Dearer than life; yet willing their dear blood Should buy her dearer freedom. Widows, weep: And ye. unwedded maidens, wan and mute. (Tit mates for heroes) who for country's good Could nuptial jo.\-s forego, and think her weal Full recompense for all your widowed lives: For HE IS lead: your priceless price is spent. And no deliverance bought. Ah! harshest deal Of sightless fortune! this the thought that rives- Your aching hearts. Oh Gotl, why hast thou sent Such mockery of hope"? Why bid arise Such champion of our cause, and let him bring The boon so near our grasp, and then withdraw Thy gift, his work unfinished, to thy s.kies? Forgive the faithless question. Sovereign King. We read its answer with repentant awe. In our own sin. He was thine overture; Thy merciful proposal to us. writ In characters more clear than prophet's word. And more divine, in life and deed too pure For earth-born virtue; such as could befit No source but Heaven. And l)y his righteous sword. Great rescue and defense didst thou bestow. Plucked from the jaws of death and i)eril dread GENEKAI. r. J JACK80X. 591 Not ouc-e. but oft; wherein this meaning shone: "Woiikl ye be free and great? Your giant foe Wouhl ye o'erthrow. and crush his ravenous head? Be what your Joshua is: as he hath done Do ye. Like unto his, be all your ends Your God's, your country's and the trutlfs: your ease Denied for duty, and your valor taught Of my true fear. This way your (Jnd conmienils: Will ye walk in it to a glorious peace? Fair overture and true! The State inwrouglit With this man's virtues, all her sons like liim. Had been unconquerable, absolute. Achilles of the nations, panoplied Not by the baptism of the infernal stream. Lucre and cunning and the strength of brute Conferring: but with holy power supplied From that clear flood, that watereth the street Of God's eternal city' impregnable. So ours, fenced by this righteousness, had stood 'Gainst Satan's world. On what wise did we meet God's overture?. Our purpose mutable Postponed His call: we fain would have the good And yet neglect its source; would seize the crown. Yet slight the appointed race. So sluggish peace And hope deceitful lure the thoughtless brood Not worth the prize; who draw the angry frown Of God, and His avenging hand release. But thus not all. Thus spake the goodlier host: "Yea Lord, we will be free, and on thy terms!" And these God's model followed where he went. To bloody graves; or else, to mourn their lost And chant their dirge, remain. Our sin contirms The just decree. "Thy visitation sent In mercy's chosen day thou knewest not O land! But in thy wealth hebete and gross. Thou wouldest not read aright God's ofEere^ Which conscious guilt forewarns it, may await Tlie soul which cannot'die. nor find defense Against the Judge changeless, omnipotent— Ah! this the thouglit which drives the coward hcnrt The desperate alternative to choose 'Twixt hell and nothingness- A better part Appears to faith— Then why, Oh mortals, lose That nobler choice. Redemptiob? bought witli blood Of God incarnate, wrought by power divine. The safe inheritance of perfect good. The grace that s-hall your inmost souls refine From error, sin and sorrow, and J^estow The angels' life of bliss and purity. Whose years are measured only by the tiow Of God's eternity: The gift as free Vj every thirsting soul as air of heaven! AVhy do men turn from glories such as these To dreary niglit and death? and still elect Infinite loss and naught o'er boundless seas Of joy? Because, O shame! Their guilty fears detect The treason and the folly they have wrought Against themselves and their best destiny In serving sin! This infamy hath taught (And this alone) the atheist's grovelling plea, That^ death may be to them -eternal sleep." THE TEXAS BRIGADE AT THE WILDERNESS. (Written May, ISOO.i It was upon the sixth of May, five miles from Lee away. Our corps amid the forest lay, before the break of day. Our limbs by the hard march distressed, close to the ground wo pressed, As by forgetful slumber blest, we took our dreamless rest. Tho' now and then the cannon's boom disturbed the silent gloom; Our ears, locked up as in the silent tomb, gave to the sound small room; But what is this bids sleep depart; and makes each soldier start. The hot l)lood throbbing at his heart, with sense and mind alert V The long roll beat! "Fall in!" they cry; "Fall in, the minutes tiyi" For these five miles we must pass by our succor to supply. The teeming foes our friends confront, whose weary swords .u;' blunt So we are needed at the front to bear the battle's brunt. Our rest was short; our food was none; but our fatigue was gone; Our leader calls and we press on, as eager racers run. The stars above, so calm and bright, shed down their solemn light Through forest leaves with dews bedight. Over the waning uiglit Aurora sprtads her rosy fire. The timid birds aspire To tune their thankful, morning choir. But hark! the contrast dire. The cannon's roar and sulphurous flash, and bloody weapons clash; The thud of trampling, panting steeds, the wounded wretch wlio bleeds. Bewailing pangs which no one heeds, amidst all deadly deeds! And now the sun confronts our eyes, lurid with battles' dyes; Beneath, the tangled forest lies, whence fumes of tophet rise. Thereat we strain our thews anew, we pierce the tumult through; Alas! the sight that meets our view: who stand and fight are few. From broken ranks the many flee. But. courage! Yonder, see, Fpou the battle's, edge is Lee! The god of war is he! Serene, elate, with steadfast will, he bids the storm be still. He plants his heroes on the hill, the deadly breach to fill. We lead our march; to us he turns. That heart, each man ir.s;-enis. Big as a world, with pity yearns, and yet with valor burns Sterner tliau death and fate. "Ye Texas men whom Hood has led. Who for our land so oft have bled, But from the foe have never fled; THE TEXAS BRIGADE AT THE WILDERNESS. 599 Now !>■ your tiino to ti.aht! "This hour decides your country's weal; Quick! into line of battle wheel. And give the enemy cold steel; And Uod defend the right." What answer gave the fierce hurrah that rent tli(> lowering s.ky? Our purpose grim, our fiery will, resolved to do or die. But well we understood the task, now set for us to do. Our corps was near, its ranks were full, its men worp staundi and true; But time must lapse before the mass is formed in due array; And to our foes what vantage ground may not this space betray? It is our blood that must redeem this time, and so giA'e pause Till ampler food be ready made to till this Moloch's jaws. "Forward, the First Bridgade!" cries Gregg, but not alone leads he; For lo! beside him at the front, the towering form of Lee. Where he sends us he too will go. A crisis woirth our blood He sees; his own more precious drops must join our cheaper flood. He bares his head; the s.unbeams stain his hoary locks with fire; He speaks no word, but look and mien sublime all hearts inspire, Then from the grizzly soldiers' eyes who wont in battle's throes To laugh, and mock at peril's dread, the briny flood o'erflows. Not coward-tears are these, but such as come from martyr's eyes; Who for Christ's truth, and heavenly joys, the stake and fire despise. Ye proud invaders, well may ye these weeping foemen fear; A thousand drops from next your heart, shall pay each generous tear. F'or hear their word: "For that old man we'll charge the gates of hell! Not shall he share the deadly risk!" for he is loved too well. Let lives the cause can better spare make up the holocaust. Here then we halt, till he retire to his more proper post. At last he yields. Now shall he see, how we will do our pax'ts. "Forwa'rd again!" with trailed arms each man impetous starts, Like hounds unleashed that seek the game, we pierce the smoking wood. Five to our one, in leafy screens ambushed, the foemen stood. "One volley, boys, low. in the breast; then to the bayonet!" As through the tangled brush wo tore, a second line we met, And iniow a third, replacing those that fled before our blows. And worse; their overlapping wings our right and left enclose; With fire in front, and fire in flank, our thin lines melt away. Our charge must pause; we are too few! But hei'e at least to stay! And we will die so hard and slow, that Lee the time shall save He needs, to form his battle lines— so shot for shot we gave, And death for death at closest range; till half the hour was spent. At last! thank God! at last 'tis done. Hark to that shout which rent The very heavens! Hurrah! They come, Longstreet and Anderson. 600 THE TEXAS BRIGADE AT THE WILDERNESS. Earth shakes beneath their myriad feet! Hurrah! The day is won! Two miles abreast, an alavanache of fire and steel they rush; AndU'ank on rank in fragments break, as ocean billows crush The rotten barques; and drive the shreds, as chaff before the storm. Six hundred men and seventy-two there were that mora, to form The sturdy remnant of the lines, at first three thousand strnnc;. Four hundred now and fifty lay the bloody trail along. Bleeding or dead. How far we kept our pledge these numbers tell. Ghosts of our comrades dead, know this: Ye were avenged well. If streams :of meaner blood could pay for each rich drop of yours. All honor to our gallant Gregg! As yet the heavenly powers Bore him unscatched in danger's front. All honor to our slain. Who gave their all for country's sake; their names shall live again While we can sing their deathless deeds. All honor to the chief Who fain would spend his blood with ours, to buy our land relief. Pnnceton Theological SeminarY-Sp^e'' Library 1 1012 01083 5041