y-Bir-vifittjUJii;''' .1 - K n. ^ pri;si:nti:l) iiy ^ n a» DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN, BY S. G. ARNOLD. " No study can be more useful to the ingenuous youtli of the United States, than that of their own history, nor any examples more interesting or more safe for their contemplation, than those of the great founders of the republic." Tudor's Life of Otis. TRENTON, N. J. TRKSS OF THE EMPORIUM i 1845. .MS" Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1S45, by S. G. Ainoid, the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of New Jersey. PREFACE. Thv. idea of Iho following sketclies was first tujrgusted io a small circle; of literary friends, who each agreed to contribute for the columns of the '• Empo- nnm & True Ameriean," something towards rescuing from oblivion the names of those wiio have played a distinguished part in the councils of the state, or wlio have, in some way, contributed to its glory or [)rosperity. These sketches, as th.ey appeared in the Emporium, attracted considerable attention, and the publication, in some Ibrm more jiermancnt than that of the columns of a news- p;iper, was so often suggested, that it has been deemed best to venture on the experiment. Should they prove to be the means of extending the knowledge ol j)nr history among those v;ho are just entering on (he stage of life, the writers ♦vill fi'-l that their labors have not been m vain, and with this hope fhey commit tiicse pages to the indulgent attention of the great public. Trenton, July, 184.'). ABRAHAM CLARK. ABRAHAM CLARK. To an American, the most important political event of modern times, is the Declaration of our National Indepen- dence ; and the names which were subscribed to that immor- tal paper, have naturally drawn around them an interest commensurate with the greatness of that event. The state of New Jersey was, at that time^ represented in the National Assembly by five delegates, one of whom was a minister of the gospel, two were members of the bar, and two were cul- tivators of the earth. They were not all native Jerseymen^ but this act has so thoroughly identified them with our state, that we claim their reputation as our own. Abraham Clark was one of the two farmers. He was born in Essex county, about a mile and a half from the village of Rahway, on the upper road to Elizabethtown, February 15, 1726, oh the farm which he afterwards inherited, and which descended to him by regular succession from his an- cestors, who were among the first settlers of the colony. His father, Thomas Clark, was an alderman of the borough of Elizabeth, a man of respectability and standing, and gave his son, what, for the times, was considered as a good edu- cation. Abraham, at an early age, manifested an inclination for istudy, and devoted considerable attention to mathema- tics, of which he was particularly fond. He also turned his attention to civil law, and made himself familiar with the principles and so much of the details, as he thought neces- 10 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYRIEN. ti'ary in transacting- the ordinary business of life. In 1748, afc the age of twenty-two years, he married Miss Sarah Hetfield^ who resided in the borough of Elizabeth, and by whom he had a family of children, some of whom were conspicuous actors in the war of the Revolution. Several of his sons were officers in the American army, and, falling into the hands of the enemy, were among those who suffered imprisonment in the celebrated prison ship, Jersey, where they experienced all the hardships and cruelties which at that time marked the policy of the mother country towards her offending off- spring. Thomas was a captain of artillery, and his treat- ment was particularly barbarous. He was immured in a dun- geon, and for a long time had no other food than that which was surreptitiously conveyed to him, by his companions in suffering, through the keyhole of the door. Mr. Clark,- the subject of this article, was of a delicate constitution and a slender frame, so that, notwithstanding his agricultural tastes and education, he was disqualified for tJie laborious pursuits of the field, and was chiefly employ- ed, in the early part of his life, in surveying, conveyancing and settling estates. He was also a frequent arbiter in dis- putes, was very generally consulted by his neighbors in all cases of litigation, gave legal advice to all who desired it, without fee or reward, and by his generous labors and kindly advice, obtained the grateful appellation of the ^^ poor man's counsellor.^' The colonial legislature also manifested their confidence m Mr. Clark's integrity, by appointing him a commissioner for settling undivided lands, and by electing him to the office of clerk of the general assembly, which then held its sessions at Amboy. He was also intrusted with the office of sheriff, and other stations of minor importance in the county of Essex, and appears to have been, in the more tranquil times which"" preceded the revolution, a quiet, pious, respec- ABRAHAM CLARK. 11 table and useful citizen, who e'njoyed the general confidence of the people. When the controversy with Great Britain arose, Mr. Clark was in the full vigor of his intellect and usefulness, and able to give weight and strength to the cause which he might espouse. All his interests were with the royal party, but his feelings and his judgment inclined him at once to the popu- lar side, and no one, who knew the probity of his char- acter, would expect Abraham Clark to yield his duty to mere personal interests. He stood forth at once, and took a promi- nent part against the oppressive claims of parliament, and threw all the weight of his influence and the energies of his mind into the contest. Mr. Clark was a busy agitator, and a principal actor in all the measures of resistance which preceded the Declaration of Independence. He spoke freely on the subject of Ameri- can wrongs among his friends, assisted in fermenting the popular feeling in public assemblies, and was an active and working member of the committee of safety. This long course of patriotic and disinterested services naturally turned towards him the attention of the prominent patriots of that day, and, on the 21st of June, 1776, he was appointed by the colonial convention, then assembled at Burlington, a delegate to the continental congress. The colony of New Jersey had taken an early stand against the aggressions of the British government. In July, 1774, the people assembled in township meetings and elect- ed delegates to a colonial convention, which had been called for the purpose of choosing delegates to the continental con- gress. At these primary meetings, resolutions were very generally passed, strongly censuring the tyrannical measures of the British government, in taxing the colonies without allowing them a representation in parliament, and, especi- ally, in closing the port of Boston — and a second convention 12 DISTINGUISHED JERSEVMEN. met in Trenton, in 1775, which took measures for raising military companies in the several townships, and imposed a tax for their support. Gov. Franklin was importuned to call the legislature to- gether, in order that the representatives might give these measures the sanction of law, and to adopt others for the further security of the colony, but he refused; and the con- vention (the Provincial Congress as it was then called) took upon itself most of the authorities of the regular legislative assembly. Mr. Clark received his appointment as delegate to congress from this informal body. His colleagues were Richard Stockton, John Hart, Francis Hopkinson and Dr. John Witherspoon. The august body of which he had now become a member, was sitting, at the time of his election, in the old Carpenter's Hall, in the city of Philadelphia, and thither he immediately repaired. The subject of declaring the colonies independent of Great Britain had already been introduced, and he co-operated cordially with those who advocated this important and decisive measure, and, a fev/ days after, placed his hand to the instrument as one who was w^illing to pledge life, fortune and honor, in sustaining the just rights of his country. As a member of the continental congress, Mr. Clark was dis- tinguished for his zeal in the cause of American liberty and his attention and application to the public business. He was ap- pointed on several important committees, and gave to his new and more extended duties all the industry, ability and perseverance which had marked his conduct in a more humble sphere. In the following November, he was re-appointed by the legislature, which had, during the interim, been regularly constituted, under the state constitution, which was adopted on the 2d of July; and he was annually returned until 1783, with the exception of a single year. Mr. Clark, in assisting to conduct the public business, soon dis- ABRAHAM CLARK. 13 covered that the articles under which the several states Kvere confederated, were grossly defective in many essential particu- lars ; and when the army was disbanded and the machinery of the irovernment was left to depend on its own intrinsic merits, these defects exhibited themselves in a still more glaring light, and attracted the general attention of our most prominent statesmen. Mr. Clark was among the first to advocate a convention whose duty it should be to organize a more efficient system of govern- ment, and when the convention was finally called, in 1787, he v\-as constituted a member, but was prevented by ill health from attending its sitlings. The other delegates from New Jersey v.-ere William Livingston, David Brearley, William Patterson, William C. HoiLston, and John Nielson. When the new constitution was published and presented to the states for their adoption, he oppo- sed it, but was fortunately overruled by his state. Subsequently, Vv'hen the amendments were engrafted upon it, he withdrew hi::': object/ions and gave it his hearty sanction. In 1787 he was agaisi appointed to a seat in the continental congress, and continued a member until that body was dissolved by the new order, under the federal constitution. Mr. Clark was a candidate for a scat in the first congress uniii r the new constitution, but was defeated. In the interim of his services in the national council he was generally a member of the state legislature. Here he had been conspicuous in procuring the' passage of a bill, which curtailed, to some extent, the fees of lawyers, and which was characterized by the members of the bar as ''Clark''s law.''' This at once brought against him the influ- ence of this active and industrious class of citizens. In congress he had also manifested a regard for the most rigid economy, and in carrying out his views, had opposed a proposition for commu- ting the pay of officers. The officers consequently became his decided opponents. He had, besides, opposed the adoption of the new constitution, which macje him obnoxious to another, and still larger class of citizens, and the result was, that for once during 14 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. his long political life, he was left in the minority and lost his election. But Mr. Clark had, by no means, forfeited the confidence of his native state. In the winter of 1789-'90, he was appointed a commissioner to settle the accounts of the state with the general government, and, at the following election, was returned to the second congress, and continued to be re-elected until he volun- tarily withdrew from public life, at the expiration of the session in June, 1794. His health, never very good, had been much impaired by his application to the public business, and, exhausted by his toils and the infirmities incident to his advanced life, he returned to his humble home, to spend the remainder of his days in quiet retire- ment. His career was, however, drawing to its close. In the following autumn, while engaged about his farm, he received what is commonly called "a stroke of the sun," and in two hours after, he breathed his last, being at the time, in the 69th year of his ao^e. Mr. Clark, during his life, had bestowed numerous benefactions on the church at Rahway, and his remains were carried thither for interment.' Over them is inscribed the following record : " In memory of Abraham Clark, Esq., who died Sept 15th, 1794, in the 69th year of his age. Firm and decided as a patriot; zealous and faithful as a public servant, he loved his country and adhered to her cause in the darkest hours of her struggle against oppression." The long public career of Mr. Clark is a sufficient testimony to the confidence reposed in him by the people of his native state, and his high standing as a patriot and statesman. In private life he was reserved and sedate, preferring retirement to company, and always absorbed, apparently, in the aflfairs of the public. He was, however, a kind husband and parent, and a devoted christian. His biographer tells us — and the acts of his life confirm the statement — that the distinguishing trait in his character was pa- triotism. His integrity, sound judgment and devotion to the great ABRAHAM CLARK. , 15 jnterests of his country, fully justify the high confidence reposed m him by his patriotic countrymen. It is recorded of him, that although his sons were prisoners, and in the hands of an enemy distinguished for injustice, he asked no special interference in their favor, and when the barbarous treatment which they received, in common with others, came to his knowledge, he only proposed the system of retaliation, which being adopted, had the effect to mitigate their sufferings until the period of regular exchange arrived. As a member of the old congress — of the state legislature, and a representative of New Jersey under the new constitution, he was distinguished more for his usefulness than his brilliancy, though he often entered warmly into the debates of those exciting times. His long career made him perfectly familiar with the public business and gave him great prominence and influence. In the last congress of which he was a member, he exerted his influence and talents in support of Mr. Madison's resolutions rela- ting to the commerce of the United States, and was considered one of their most powerful advocates. Mr. Clark was of a slender form, medium heio;ht, grave and thoughtful in his bearing, and extremely temperate in his manner of living. In public affairs he had the reputation of being a rigid economist, but in his private relations was liberal and phil- anthropic. His circumstances were limited, his desires moderate, and being unambitious of wealth, he devoted himself with undi- vided energy to the good and glory of his country. He was a plain, pious, unambitious man, and in public and private life pre- sents an example of excellence which the American farmer will ever be proud to cherish. G. JOHN WITHERSPOON. 20 ' DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. of Beith, in the west of Scotland, where he was ordained and set- tled. After residing here a few years, usefully employed in his labor of love, his high and increasing reputation as a preacher induced the congregation at Paisley, near Glasgow, to ask for his removal thither, and, in this wider sphere of usefulness he con- tinued until he was called to the "New World." Durino- his residence at Beith, he was singularly enough, in- volved in some of the disagreeable consequences of the war which was then raging in Scotland, between the houses of Stuart and Hanover. The Pretender, as Charles was called, had made himself master of the town of Stirhng early in January, 1746, and proceeded in his designs against the castle. Gen. Hawley, the commander of the English forces in Scotland, was dispatched to its relief with a powerful army. The Pretender marched out to meet him, and the two armies met on the 16th of January, at Falkirk, where the English general was totally routed. The curiosity of the young minister induced him to seek a posi- tion where he could w^itness the conflict between the contending armies, and in the sweep made by the victors, he was picked up, and thrown, with other prisoners, into the castle of Doune. He was confined in a large upper room, next below the battlements, and had for his companions, five members of the Edinburg compa- ny of volunteers and two citizens of Aberdeen, charged with being spies. The quarters of the captives were not particularly agreeable, and as a part of them, at least, had a fair prospect of being hanged, there was not wanting a sufficient motive for prompting them to eflfect their escape. The sentinel had allowed them to pass freely up to the battlements, w^hich were seventy feet from the ground, and their plan was to descend from this terrific height by means of a rope constructed of strips torn from the bed blankets which had been allowed them by their jailor. Mr. Witherspoon assisted them in their preparations, but when the plan was about to be carried into effect, had not fully deter- JOHN WITHERSPOON. 21 mined whether to avail himseh' of it or not. The order in which they were to descend was decided by lot, he being left, at his own request, out of -the arrangement. The first four passed down in safety. The fifth man was very large and his descent too much hurried. Just as he reached the ground the rope broke, some thirty feet above him, but he received no injury. The accident was immediately communicated to those remaining on the battle- ments, but Thomas Barrow, whose turn came next, was so anxious to effect his escape, as to be altogether regardless of consequences, and throwing himself upon the rope, slid down to the end and thence fell to the ground, breaking several ribs and dislocating his ankle. His companions bore him away, however, and they all succeeded in effecting their escape to the Vulture sloop of war, then lying in the Frith of Forth. Mr. Witherspoon and one of his companions, named M^cvicar, were still left on the battlements. They drew up the rope and taking it back to their cell, lengthened it and patched it up the best way that they were able, and returning, Macvicar attempted to follow his companions. He went down very well till he reached a part of the rope so large that he could- not easily grasp it, w^hen, letting go his hold, he fell, and was so much injured that he soon after died. These several warnings decided Mr. Witherspoon not to make the attempt and, returning to his room, he patiently- awaited his liberation, which was effected as soon as the circum- stances could be investigated. Dr. Witherspoon, during his residence at Paisley, continued to acquire standing and influence, and obtained a high reputation as a scholar and preacher. He was frequently importuned to remove to other fields of labor, and was successively invited to Dublin, Ireland ; Rotterdam, Holland; and Dundee in his own country, but all these calls he steadily resisted. At that time there was a strong bond of union between the Scottish churches and their sister churches of America, and a constant intercourse was kept up between them. Hence it was 22 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. that the high reputation of the learned and pious pastor of the congregation at Paisley, found its way to the British colonies in America. His learning, talents and piety, were so Well understood and so highly appreciated by the distinguished men of this coun- try that, on the death of President Finley in 1766, he was unani- mously elected by the trustees, President of the College of New Jersey, located at Princeton, and Richard Stockton, a member of the board then in England, was desired to see him and urge his acceptance of the office. Mr. Stockton was not able immediately to visit the Doctor, but the appointment of the trustees was duly transmitted to him and was under consideration for some time. But the reluctance of Mrs. Witherspoon to leave the home of her youth and to dissolve forever the social and domestic ties which bound her strongly to the land of her birth, together with some embarrassments of a pecuniary kind, at length determined him to decline the invita- tion, and a letter to that effect was communicated to the trustees, who thereupon elected to the vacant place. Dr. Samuel Blair, the Vice President of the college. Subsequently, Mr. Stockton, in his tour to North Britain, visited Glasgow and Paisley, and was, for some time, the guest of Dr. Witherspoon. Mr. Stockton was in high favor among the distin- guished men of Great Britain, and his representations had so much weight with the Doctor and his family, that he finally con- sented to yield to the solicitations of his American friends. He was also visited by the celebrated Dr. Rush, who urged his acceptance, and whose friends claim for him the honor of changing his determination. Mr. Stockton informed the board of Trustees that the difhculties in the way of the Doctor's acceptance were now removed, and that, on a re-election, he w^ould immediately pro- ceed to New Jersey and take charge of the institution. On the receipt of this intelligence, Mr. Blair voluntarily declined to ac- cept the office to which he had been elected, and Dr. Witherspoon was unanimously chosen. He immediately repaired to Prince- JOHN WITHEKSPOON. 23 ton, where he arrived, with his family, in the early part of August, 1768, and on the 17th of the same month was duly inaugurated. In resolving to come to America, Dr. Witherspoon not only separated himself from all his early associations — his relatives, friends and church, hut he also forfeited high prospects of wealth and distinction. We are told by his biographer, that not long- before he left Holland, and while in a state of suspense on the subject of emigration, a gentleman possessed of a large property, a bachelor and a relative, agreed to make himhis heir, on the con- dition that he should remain in Scotland. But the Doctor, after looking over all the ground, was fully persuaded that Providence had indicated his course, and like a true christian, he suffered neither the allurements of wealth, nor the persuasions of friends, nor the ties of blood, to interfere with what seemed to be so plainly his duty. The colleo-e, from its foundation at Elizabethtown in 1746, had been struggling with difficulties, and the repeated shocks which it had received in the death of five presidents during the twenty-two years of its existence, its removal from place to place, and the heavy expenses incurred by the erection of the Hall after its final location at Princeton, had all contributed still further to embarrass its finances, so that the bankruptcy of the institution was seriously apprehende-d. The acceptance of Dr. Witherspoon inspired the friends of the college with new confidence, and his subsequent administration of its affairs, fully justified their hopes. The high reputation which he had acquired in his own country, then regarded with peculiar veneration by the colonies, enabled him to wield a strong influ- ence in its favor, and his personal efforts, which were extended from Massachusetts to Virginia, soon placed the institution in a flourishing condition. Before taking his final departure from Scotland, he had visited London and Holland, and had received large presents of books for the institution. He had, at the same time, informed himself 24 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. respecting the latest improvements in education and government, by which means he was enabled to introduce many salutary re- forms; and his piety, erudition, discretion and knowledge of the world, made him popular both as an instructor and presiding officer, and caused the college to rise rapidly in public favor. But while thus successfully engaged in the prosecution of his important labors, the storm of the revolution broke over the country, diverting its energies into other channels and unsettling all the business avocations of the people. The number of students soon began to fall oif, and when New Jersey became the theatre of contending armies, the college was completely broken up, its shades deserted, and its spacious buildings occupied alternately by the British and American forces. During the progress of the events which led to the final rupture, Dr. Witherspoon had not been a silent or indifferent spectator ; but, casting aside his foreign prejudices and embracing with facility those republican principles which were so congenial to the frame work of his mind, he at once identified himself with the land of his adoption, and through all the stages of the contest, maintained the views and participated in the councils of those who adhered to the rights of British freemen against the aggressions of British power. The whig citizens of New Jersey who knew his influence and were proud of his reputation, sought to secure his services in the public councils, and sent him to the state convention which convened at Burlington on the 10th of June, 1776, where as a member of committees and a scholar who wielded a ready pen, he soon gave evidence of the same ability in conducting the pub- lic business which he had before exhibited as a professor and divine. On the 21st of the same month he was chosen one of the delegates to that august body, the continental congress — the heart through which the life blood of the nation pulsated, and which gave union and energy to the efforts of those who were struggling in the great cause of human rights. JOHN WITHERSPOON. 25 The delegates from New Jersey were not unprepared for the crisis, which, it was foreseen, was about to arise. The contin- gency of a final separation from Great Britain had been discussed in the convention by which the delegates were appointed, and they were instructed to unite with the delegates from the other colonies, in declaring the country independent if a measure so strong and decided was found to be necessary for the preservation of their rights. Dr. Witherspoon took his seat, therefore, with a full knowledge of his position, and was one of the most ardent of those who ad- vocated a complete and immediate separation from the mother country. It is related of him, that when a distinguished member pleaded for delay and urged that we were not yet ripe for so bold a measure, he replied : " In my opinion, sir, we are not only.r/^e but rotting.'''' He was annually re-appointed to congress till his final retire- ment in 1782, with the exception of the year 1780, when the affairs of the college so imperiously demanded his attention, that he was induced to decline the appointment. He resumed his seat, however, the following year, and continued to devote his attention to national affairs with an assiduity and ardor unsur- passed by any member in that body of distinguished patriots. Although the state appointed supernumerary delegates, with the view of relieving the toils and burdens of the regular members, yet the Doctor seldom or never availed himself of this relief, but steadily continued to perform for himself the arduous duties re- quired by his position, and attended in his seat with great punc- tuality during the whole period of his annual appointments. He was always firm in the most gloomy periods of the war, and had that peculiar quality of great minds, which enabled him to manifest the greatest power and confidence M'hen surrounded with the most embarrassing circumstances. But, although, thus earnestly devoted to the service of the country, he never forgot that he was a sworn servant to the Most 4 26 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. High. He neither laid aside the robes by which his order was distinguished, nor the duties of the christian minister, but cordially embraced every proper opportunity to preach the Word of Life. Nor did he forget what he owed to the college over which he presided, but continued, even among his nightly vigils and daily toils to cherish it " as the apple of his eye," and to advocate its interests and advance its prosperity. As a member of congress he was remarkable for his diligence and attention to the duties of his station, and was constantly em- ployed on the most laborious committees. He was a member of the secret committee ; a member of the committee appointed to confer with Gen. Washino;ton in relation to recruitins: the reo-i- ments whose terms of service had expired; he was on the com- mittee which prepared the nervous and eloquent appeal to the public during the gloom and despondency which preceded the battle of Trenton ; he was a member of the board of war ; he was on the committee which prepared the manifesto respecting the American prisoners ; he was a leading member of the conunittee of finance, and most strenuously opposed the different issues of paper money, which caused so much embarrassment and distress, and which he characterized as " a great and deliberate breach of the public faith ;" he was on the committee to devise means for procuring supplies for the army, and steadily withstood the ex- pensive mode at first adopted, of doing the business by commission instead of contract; he was on the committee appointed by con- gress for investigating the difficulties on the New Hampshire grants, (Vermont,) and which at one time, threatened a civil war; and in all the important movements of congress he appears to have borne a conspicuous part. It is remarked of him, that during his long political course, whenever he differed fi'om his compeers as to the policy to be pursued, or the means most proper to pro- duce any desired result, subsequent events have fully vindicated the accuracy of his judgment and the soundness of his views. On the subject of the currency. Dr. Witherspoon was what JOHN WITHERSPOOX. 27 vroulcl, in this day, be termed a radical. He strenuously opposed the different issues of paper money, and urged the propriety of making loans and establishing funds for the payment of the inter- est, and enforced his views in several speeches of great clearness and power. Afterwards, at the instance, it is said, of some who had opposed his views on this question in congress, he published his essay on the nature, value and uses of money, w^hich is one of the most clear and jddicious articles extant on that subject. In the deliberations for forming the original articles of confed- eration. Dr. Witherspoon took an active part, and steadily main- tained the necessity of a compact union, in order to impart vigor and success to the measures of the government. He complained much of the jealousy and ambition of the individual states, which prevented them from entrusting the general government with powers adequate to the common interest ; regarded the original compact as essentially defective ; remonstrated against its weak- ness and inefficiency, and although its adoption was hailed with general joy, lived to see his predictions respecting it but too fully realized. The temporary retirement of Dr. Witherspoon from congress at the close of the year 1779, was for the purpose of attempting a re-organization of the college. The preliminary steps had been taken at the meeting of the board of trustees in April, 1778 ; but such was the unsettled state of the country, and the condition of the college buildings, that little appears to have been done. In- deed, the college property was little less than a heap of ruins. Prior to the battle of Princeton, Nassau Hall was used by the British troops as their barracks, and at the time of the battle it was siezed upon by two regiments of Hessians, who knocked out the windows by way of converting it into a fort for their defence. They retreated, however, on the approach of the Americans, but one of the balls fired on the occasion shattered the heavy stone- work of the hall, and another entered one of the chapel windows, and singularly enough, tore from its frame the picture of George 28 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. II., since most appropriately replaced by that of the great Wash- ington. After the battle the hall was used as a hospital for a number of months, and it continued to be occupied in one way or another by the government troops up to the year 1781. The extent of the devastation can now hardly be realized. The build- ing was torn to pieces, stripped of every thing valuable, the floors broken up, the fences and every particle of wood that could be cut away from the building, removed and bufned, the ornaments of the prayer hall and library, the philosophical apparatus, the orrery, &c., all carried away or destroyed. Without credit or funds it was impossible at once to bring this chaos to a state of regularity and order. Still it w^as desira- ble that the course of instruction should proceed, and as the atten- tion of Dr. Witherspoon was chiefly directed to the concerns of the republic, the immediate duty of re-commencing it was com- mitted to the Vice President, Dr. Samuel Smith, who had married Dr. Witherspoon's daughter, and who afterwards succeeded him in the presidency. The college rose slowly from its low estate, and met with another disaster in 1782, when all that was left, after the plunderings of the troops, was destroyed by fire, leaving nothing but the walls of the edifice standing. So late as 1783, only the second and third stories had been so far repaired that parts of them could be used. The lower and fourth stories were still in ruins. In Dec. 1779, Dr. W. resigned his house on the college grounds to vice president Smith, and removed' to his own residence, which he called Tusculmn, about a mile from Princeton, where he devoted the time which he could spare from public duties to the pursuits of agriculture, of which he was particularly fond. His name, however, continued to give weight and character to the institution, and he lived to see it regain and surpass its former standing and prosperity. He appears to have suffered considerably from the ravages of the war, in common with his neighbors, and in one of his lettersj JOHN WITHEESPOON. 29 'announcing to a friend his removal to Tusculum, says : — " You know I was always fond of being a scientific farmer. That dis- position has not lost, but gathered strength since my being in America. In this respect I received a dreadful stroke indeed, from the English when they were here, they having seized and mostly destroyed my whole stock, and committed such ravages that we are not yet fully recovered from it." After the commencement in 1783, Drs. Witherspoon, Rodgers and Jones, wej-e appointed by the board of trustees, to wait on Gen. Washington^ who was present at the commencement, and solicit him to sit for his picture to Mr. C. W. Peale ; and it was ordered in the resolution from which they derived their appoint- ment, " that his portrait when finished be placed in the hall of the college, in the room of the picture of the late king of Great Britain, which was torn away by a ball from the American ar- tillery in the battle of Princeton." The picture was accordingly taken, and in its old, royal frame, still graces the college walls. At the time of this commencement, congress was holding its sessions in the college hall, having adjourned from Philadelphia on account of the mutinous disposition manifested by a part of the Pennsylvania forces, which had just been disbanded. That august body attended the commencement, which was held on the last Wednesday in September, and Gen. Washington, whose business with congress called him to Princeton, sat on the stage. On that day Rev. Ashbel Green, since one of the presidents of the college, graduated, and on him fell the honor of delivering the valedictory. At the close of his speech he turned ^to war (],■> the commander-in-chief, and congratulated him in a feeling and eloquent episode, on the happy termination of his toils, and thanked him in behalf of the officers and students of the college, for the important services which he had rendered to the country. We are told that this incident produced a thrilling effect on the audience, and was by no means offensive to the honored and successful chief, who before his departure, presented to the trustees, 30 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. through the committee of which Dr. Witherspoon was chairman, the sum of fifty guineas. In the year 1781, Dr. Witherspoon resimied his seat in con- gress, but it soon became evident that the great contest for liberty was drawing to a close, and as age and infirmities w^ere creeping on him, he' felt himself at liberty to withdraw from the public coimcils of the nation, which he did at the close of 1782. He was, however, permitted to enjoy the retired quiet of Tusculum for a short period only. In 1783, he was induced, contrary to his own judgment, to cross the ocean, and revisit the land of his birth, for the purpose of obtaining funds to advance the interests of the college. He embarked in December, and in the sixtieth year of his age, braved the dangers of the ocean and the prejudices which his public career had engendered against him, to aid the cause of education in his adopted country. The result fully justified his anticipations. The rebellious con- duct of the colonies, the long war which ensued and which had ended in severing us forever from the parent country, bad so em- bittered the feelings of the English against the United States, that he was enabled to procure little more than enough to defray his necessary expenses. He returned previous to the commence- ment in 1784, and, from this time, withdrew in a great measure from all public concerns, except those which related to his minis- terial office, or the supervisorship of the college. He was, however, elected to the state convention which assembled at Trenton, Dec. 11, 1787, for the purpose of acting on the new federal constitution, and had the honor of being one of the signers of that instrument on the part of the State of New Jersey. " Bodily infirmities began, at length, to fall heavily upon him. For more than two years previous to his death, he was afflicted with the loss of sight, which contributed to hasten the progress of his other disorders. He bore his sufferings with exemplary patience, and even cheerfulness; ner would his active mind, and unabated desire of usefulness, permit him, even in this situation. JOHN WITHERSPOON. 31 to desist from his ministry or his duties in the college, so far as health and strength would permit. During his blindness, he was frequently led into the pulpit, both at home and abroad, and always acquitted himself with his usual accuracy, and not unfrequently with more than his usual solemnity and animation," He died at Tusculum, in November, 1794, having reached the seventy-third year of his age, and went to his eternal reward " full of days and full of honors." His dust reposes in the grave yard at Princeton, and over it is a stone, bearing in latin the following chronicle of his usefulness, virtues and public services: " Eencuihthismarble lie interred, the mortal remains of John Witherspoon, D. D., L. Li. D., a venerable and beloved President of the College of New Jersey. He was born in the parish of Yester, in Scotland, on the fifth of February, 1722, O. S., and was liberally educa'eJ in the University cf Edinburg. Invested with holy orders in the year 1743, lie faithfully performed the duties of Ins pastoral charse, duiine five and twenty years, first at Beith, and afterwards at Paisley. Elected president of Nassau Hall, he assumed the duties of that office on the thirteenth of August, 1168, with the elevated expectations of the public. Excelling in eveiy meutal gift, he was a man of pre-eminent piety and virtue, and deeply veised in the various branches of literature and the libeial aris. A giave and solemn preacher, his sermofjs abound in the most excellent doctrines and precepts Air the conduct of Jill', and in the most luciJ expositions of tlie Sacred Scriptures. Afliible, pleasant, and courteous, in familiar conversation, he was eminently distinsuishe.i in the concerns and deliberations of the Church, and endowed with the greatest prudence in the manasement and instruction of youth. He exalted the reputation of the colleoe among foreigners, and jrreally promoteu the advancement of its liierary cl;aracier and lasie. He was, for a long time, conspicuous among the im.st brilliant liimiharics of learning, and of ll'.o church. At length universally veneiated, beloved and lamented, he depar- led this life on the filleenth of November, 1794, at:ed 73 years.-'' Dr. Witherspoon was married to his fust wife. Miss Montgo- mery, at an early age, and at the time of his immigration had three sons and two daughters. The oldest, James, was a major in the Revolutionary army, and fell at the battle of Germantown. The two remaining sons were bred to professions, and arose to distinction. Ann, the eldest daughter, was married to the Rev. Dr. Samuel S. Smith, who succeeded Dr. W. as president of the college j and Frances, the second tiaughter, married Dr. David Ramsay, the celebrated historian. After the death of Mrs. Witherspoon, the Doctor, at the age of seventy, married a young 32 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. woman of twenty-three, an alliance which occasioned much gossip and noise in the neighborhood and family circle. He was an affectionate husband, a tender parent and a cordial friend. As a writer he was deservedly celebrated. His principal works have been published in a uniform edition of four volumes, and will continue to be consulted as long as the English language remains. They consist chiefly of sermons and essays. His lectures on moral philosophy are, we believe, to this day, used as a text book in the college over which he presided. His eloquence w^as simple and grave, but at the same time, wanted neither animation nor spirit. His sermons were delivered without notes and were often committed. They always com- manded the attention of the audience, though not embellished with any florid flights of fancy. A lady once walking with him through the garden, observed that it was " in excellent order, but without flowers." " True," said he, " I cultivate no flowers either in my garden or in my discourses." But although without flowers, they certainly were not without fruit. He had an original mind and a talent for wit and satire, which, however, he took no pains to cultivate, but which often showed itself in his epigrammatic style of spealcing and WTiting. Gen. Gates, after the capture of Burgoyne, despatched one of his aids to lay the joyful tidings before congress. The messenger was, however, delayed by so many attentions on the way, showered upon him as the bearer of good tidings, that the news reached Philadelphia several days in advance of the courier. Still it was of too grateful a character to permit the messenger which bore the particulars to be overlooked, and some member of congress pioposed to vote him a sword. Dr. Witherspoon arose, and in his quiet way, begged leave to move that instead of a swoixi they should present him witli a pair of golden spurs. On another occasion, in speaking of the church of Scotland, which was divided into factions, and one party of which was distinguished as the moderate party, he was asked if a certain JOHN WITHERSPOON. 33 minister was a moderate man. *• Oh yes," he replied, '' fierce for moderation." At another time during the disputes in the Scottish churches, deputies were sent to congratulate George III. on his accession to the throne, and Dr. W. managed to have such delegates sent as were favorable to the views which his party represented. One member who was desired to vote for them, observed that " his light" would not suifer him to do so. *•' Your hght," replied the Dr. "is all darkness." After the result was declared, his opponent playfully congratulated him at his success, but reminded hira that although the defeated party was in the minority, it was not for lack of tact or management. " Certainly not," said the Doctor, in the same playful strain, " there is an authority which says that, ' the children of this world are always wiser in their generation than the children of light.'" His person was large, well formed and finely proportioned. He was dignified in his intercourse with the world and it was difficult to trifle in his presence. He was exact in his habits, punctual to his engagements and unremitting in his observances of his christain duties in the closet, in the family and in the pulpit. It was his established custom to observe the last day of every year with his family as a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer, and he was also accustomed to set apart other days for fasting and prayer as the occasion seemed to require. Family religion he regarded as an excellent incentive to the cultivation of piety in the heart, and he enjoined it, both by precept and example. He was attentive to the young, and rendered himself exceed- ingly agreeable to them, which was probably the secret of that unbounded influence which he swayed over their conduct and opinions. A profound theologian, he was perspicuous and simple in his raanner-^a learned and industrious scholar, he was deeply versed in the knowledge of human nature — a statesman of high intellectual powers, he gave himsili up to the service of his country, and, in short, employed his time and talents to advance the temporal and spiritual interests of mankind. G. FRANCIS HOPKINSON. FEANCIS HOPKINSON Among those vcho contributed to brinsj on the crisis oi' the revolution, were to be found men of all classes, conditions and o-rades — men of leisure and of toil, of wealth and poverty, of mere physical energy and of high intellectual endowments ajid refined and cultivated tastes. Li the last" mentioned class Francis Hopkinson occupied a conspicuous and commanding position. He had a mind highly gifted by nature with understanding, wit and genius, and stored l)y assiduous cultivation with the riches of science and the arts and the graces of poetry and music. With such advantages he entered the political arena and used his polished weapons against the enemies of liberty. He was born of respectable and influential parents, who immigrated to this country from England and settled in Philadelphia. His mother, whose name was Johnson, was a niece of one of the high dignitaries of the English church, the Bishop of Worcester, andAvas, beside, a woman of superior piety, intellect and education. His father, Thomas Hopkinson, was also possessed of a good education and a superior mind. He was not rich, but having the favor of many of the great men of England, he was enabled to procure from the British government such important and lucrative stations as enabled him not only to maintain a most respectable position in society, but also to provide handsomely for the v;ants of a large and increasing family. 38 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. He was the friend and companion of Franklin and assisted him in many of his philosophical experiments. It is said that he first communicated to the American philosopher the fact, afterwards found to be so important, that the electrical fluid may be drawn from a charged body without sparks or explosion, by means- of metalic points. He was cut off in the prime of life, leaving his excellent and accomplished wife to educate and provide for a large family, with an income by no means the most abimdant. Francis, the eldest son and the subject of this notice, was born in Philadelphia in 1737, and was only fourteen years old at the time of his father's death. From the unwearied and pious instructions of his mother, he early imbibed a strong attachment to a life of purity and virtue, from which he never departed in after years. His whole career was unsullied by a blot or stain. He v.-as a member of the first e'raduatins; class of the college oi Do O Philadelphia, (afterwards the University of Pennsylvania,) u'hich his father had been active in foundins; and bavins: obtained his degree, entered the office of Benjamin Chew, Esq., as a student of law and passed through a regular course of study under the direction of that distinguished jurist, then Attorney General of the state. As a lawyer he arose to considerable eminence and had the reputation of being a learned and able counsellor. He hekl an appointment for several years in the loan office and was appointed to succeed George Ross, Esq., as a judge of the admiralty court of Pennsylvania, a place which he held till the office was abolished by the new Constitution in 1790, v.-fien he was appointed by president Washington, judge of the district court for the district of Pennsylvania. He was also appointed, during his residence in New Jersey, September 4, 1776, an associate justice of the supreme court of this state, but declined to accept the office. It is evident from these important appointments that he stood high in the profession to which he belonged, and we may FRANCIS HOPKINSON. 39 add, that his decisions as judge have been published since his death and received by the bench and bar with marks of particular favor. Still it was not in the sphere of professional learning that he acquired that distinction which entitles him tu rank among the patriotic fathers of the revolution. The duties of an arduous profession had not prevented liim from following the bent of his inclinations, so far as to cultivate his natural taste for painting, poetry, music and the practical and useful sciences, in all of which he was a proficient and took particular dehght, To these he also added a keen sense of the ridiculous, a brilliant imagination and a chaste humor, which gave him great freshness and vividness as a \M-iter and made him the centre of every social circle in wnich he chanced to fall. In 1766, at the age of 29, he paid a visit to his relatives in England, where he remained about two years. Prior to his departure the trustees of the college of Philadelphia testified their respect for his character and talents, by recording on their minutes a resolution, " that, as Francis Hopkinson, Esq., who was the first scholar in this seminary at its opening, and likewise one of the first who received a degree, is about to embark for England and has done honor to the place of his education by his abilities and good morals, as well as rendered it many substantial services on public occasions, the thanks of this institution ought to be delivered to him in the most afiectionate and respectful manner." During his stay in England, he was mostly the guest ol' his great uncle, the Bishop of "VVorcester, with whom he became a particular favorite, and who held out to him very flattering motives to induce him to remain and fix his permanent abode in the parent country. His attachments to the land of his birth were, however, too strong to be brok;en and he returned, enriched by much additional information and a more intunate and practical knowledge of the world and of the feelings and diqiositions 40 ' ' DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. of the leading men of England towards his country, which were of great use to him in the subsequent sti'uggle. Soon after his return he married Miss Ann Borden, of Borden- town, Burlington county, in this state, and thereupon removed to New Jersey and was still a resident of Bordentown when the discontents of the people ripened into civil war. He at once espoused the cause of the colonies, although his most powerful friends were arrayed on the other side, and commenced wielding his pen against the preposterous claims of the British government. In 1774 his pamphlet entitled " A Pretty Story," made its appearance and was ^videly circulated. In it was portrayed in the form of an allegory, some of the many grievances under which the colonies labored, and in a free and humorous strain the author depicted the absurd claims of the British government and her high handed attempts to coerce the colonies into a compliance therewith. It was a production precisely adapted to the state of the times and produced a powerful effect. — Subsequently it was followed up by other articles from the same polished pen, in which the shafts of his keen wit and dry humor were most successfully levelled at the " mother country," at once giving firmness to the public mind and infusing decision into the public councils. So great was the effect produced by his skilfully wrought missives, as to draw out from Dr. Rush an expression, " that the various causes which contributed to the establishment of the independence and federal government of the United States, will not be fully traced unless much is ascribed to the irresistible influence of the ridicule which he poured forth from time to time upon the enemies of America." By this vigorous and successful use of his pen, Mr. Hopkinson soon became extensively known as one of the staunchest whigs in the colonies and, at the colonial convention which met at Burlington, in June, 1776, he was regarded as eminently fit to FSANCIS KOPKINSON. 41 meet the crisis which was evidently about to arise and Nvas hence selected to represent New Jersey in that august congress, which declared that " these united colonies are, and of right ought to be, FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES." His name stands, along with his noble compeers, firmly subscribed to the immortal "declaration," and the acts of his life afford the amplest testimony, that there was no faltermg in his subsequent career. After the close of the congress of 1776, his name does not appear on the records as a delegate from New Jersey, and his public life was chiefly identified with his native state. In 1778, when a marauding party of the enemy ascended the Delaware and landed at Bordentown, to pillage, murder and burn,* Mr. Hopkinson and his family were absent, but his dwelling was honoral with a passing visit, though it does not appear that any outrages were committed upon it. Miss Mary Comely, the house-keeper, was left in charge of the building, and provided for the ofncers a plentiful repast, which, it is said. they ate with a keen relish, notAvithstanding it was spread in th( house of so distinguished a rebel. It was in January of this year, that the incident occurred which gave rise to " The Battle of the Kegs;' one of the most popular songs of the day. The British army w-ere quartered in Philadelphia, and their ships were moored in the Delaware, * At this incursion four men were murdered in cold blood after they had surrendered, in the vicinity of what is now Hilton's tan yard, at the foot ol Walnut SI. Their names were Grcgorj-, Isdell, Sutlon, and one unknown. Also an old lady by the name of Isdell, who was shot in a dwellins? opposite the post office, in Main street. The dwelling and store of Mr. Joseph Borden, a relative of Mrs. Hopkinson, were burned and many indignities heape:! on the dwelling of Mr. Emley, an influential whig. Miss Comely was only IS years of age, but by her jiood conduct and heroism she saved the property of her mother and grandmother from plunder, and brought about the restoration of many things which had been taken from her neighbors. While the officers were at dinner she went across to the house of her mother and secretly cut a piece from the coat of one who was engaged in carrying ctT the plunder, and reported his conduct to his superiors, producing the piece from his coat as an evidence of his identity, and he was compelled to restore his ill. gotten gain. — [See Historical Collectione of New Jersey.] 6 42 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN- opposite the city. Some ingenious Americans up the river formed the project of making war on these vessels by means of kegs of powder, in which were placed certain machines, so artfully constructed that any sudden jar would cause the explosion of the powder. These were set afloat in the night, at the flood of the tide, in the hope that some of them would strike against the ships and produce such an explosion as would injure or destroy them. It so happened, however, that the vessels were, that very evening, hauled into the docks and hence the whole scheme faded. But still it was not without some serious and amusing results. A letter in the New Jersey Gazette of that day, tells us that some men in a barge attem.pted to pick up one of the kegs, when it suddenly exploded, killing four persons and wounding others ; and another account mentions that one of the kegs exploded in consequence of coming into contact with a dbck at Philadelphia. But whatever may have been the particular incident which made known the dangerous character of these floating kegs, it is certain that they became the objects of very peculiar distrust on the part of the British sailors and soldiers. The captured city was thrown into a state of great alarm — reports of the attempted strategy spread like the wind — the wharves were filled with armed troops — the suspicious kegs were assa,iled at a most respectful distance and every stick, chip or loo- of wood that ventured to thrust its unoffending head above the surface of the water, was the target for a dozen British muskets. This valorous war is said to have been carried on for a whole day, but whether it was successful in exploding a single keg our chronicles do not inform us. We copy the amusing verses which Mr. Hopkinson penned on the occasion, as they will serve to illustrate the readiness with which he availed himself of the passing incidents of the tunes and, by means the most simple, wielded them in the cause of his country :— FRANCIS HOPKINSON. 43 THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS BY FRANCIS HOPKINSON, ESQ. Gallants, attend, and hear a friend Trill forth harmonious ditty : Strange things I'll tell, which late befell In Philadelphia city. 'Twas early day, as poets say, Just when the sun was rising, A soldier stood on log of wood', And saw a thing surprising. As in amaze he stood to gaze, (The truth can't be denied, sir,) He spied a score of kegs, or more. Come floating down the tide, sir. A sailor, too, in jerkin blue. The strange appearance viewing, First d d his eves, in great surprise, Then said, "some mischief's brewing. " These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold. Packed up like pickled herring ; And they've come down t'attack the town In this new way of ferry'ng." The soldier flew, the sailor too, And, scar'd almost to death, sir. Wore out tlieir shoes to spread the news. And ran till out of breath, sir. Now, up and down, throughout the town, Most frantic scenes were, acted. And some ran here and others there. Like men almost distracted. Some fire cried, which some denied. But said the earth had quake-ed ; And girls and boys, with hideous noise llan through the streets half naked. Sir Williamf he, snug as a flea. Lay all this time a snoring ; Nor dreamed of harm, as he lay warm In bed with Mrs. Loring. Now, in a fright, he starts upright, Awak'd by such a clatter ; He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries, •' For God's sake, what's the matter?" At his bedside, he then espied Sir Erskine,}: at command, sir; Upon one foot he had one boot. And t'other in his hand, sir. " Arise, arise !"■ Sir Erskine cries , " The rebels — more's the pity — Without a boat are all afloat, And ranged before the city. " The motley crew, in vessels new, With Satan for their guide, sir, Pack'd up in bags or wooden kegs, Come driving down the tide, sir, •'Therefore prepare for bloody war— These kegs must all be routed, Or surely we dispised shall be. And British courage doubted." The royal band now ready stand All rang'd in dread array, sii, With stomach stout to see it out, And make a bloody day, sir. The cannons roar from shore to shore ; The small arms loud did rattle : Since wars began, I'm sure no man E'er saw so strange a battle. The rebel dales, the rebel vales, With rebel trees surrounded. The distant woods, the hills and Hoods, With rebel echoes sounded. The fish below swam to and fro, Attacked from every quarter: Whv sure (thought they,) the devil's to pay, 'Wongst folks above the water. The kegs, 'tis said, though strongly made, Of rebel staves and hoops, sir. Could not oppose their powerful foes, " The conqu'ring Britishtrooj s,sir. From morn to night, these men of might Display'd amazing courage : And when the sun was fairly down Retired to sup their porridge. A hundred men, with each a pen. Or more, upon my word, sir, It is most true, would be too few Their valor to record, sir. Such feats did they perform that day. Against these wicked kegs, sir, That, years to come, if they get home. They'll make their boasts and brags, sir . The miscellaneous works of Mr. Hopkinson, preparer! by hhnself, were published after his death in three volumes, and are still much consulted. There was a variety and versatility in his genius which were peculiarly fitted to the stirring times of the revolution and which, added to his biting satire and tSir WilUamHowe. t Sir William Erskine. 44 EISTINaUISHpp JERSSYMEN. «]ry hunior, made his writings, in the dd^y of their glory, altogether irresistible. But, being written generally to accomplish some special object, and often containing local allusions not now to be appreciated, they were not calculated to give him a reputation among critics or literary pretenders. Still, they are not without interest even at the present day. His '-Specimen of a Collegiate Examination," and his " Letter on Whitewashing," have been plundered by foreigners and published as productions oi' I'heir rhich opera- ted to produce this result, than the facts themselves. The inci- dent related by Dr. Gordon is now universally discarded and is, doubtless, entirely devoid of truth.* The fact that Mr. Stockton vras, on the same day, elected Chief Justice of the state, fur- nishes us with the only means of solving the difficidty. Both of these men were scholars and patriots — both had been bred to the law, and both were eminently qualified to fill the office of Governor and Chancellor which, by the Constitution, had been combined in the same person. But there was a man- ifest fitness in the course taken by the joint meeting, which is honorable alike to themselves and to the patriotic individuals. * Dr. Gordon (Mist. Revolution, vol.11, page 300) says: "There was an equal number of votes fur liirn and Mr, Stockton, but the latter having ju.^t at the moment refused to Rnnish liis team of horses for tlie service of the pub- lic, and the lenislature Cuming to tlie iLnowledge, the choice of Mr. Living- ston took ]ilace immediately." ftlr. Sedgvsrick, in his life ol Livingston, ^vell remarks, tlia I "this accu- sation, on its face not very probable, woiil 1 almost apjiear to be refuted by the hereditary character of the family." The biographer of Mr. Stockton, in relation to it says : — " Cunnected with a Vvork so pregnant v^iih lahles and misrepresentations as the letters of Dr. Gordon, this passage miiilit have been permitted to pass without animadversion, but it assumes a more important ciiaracfer in relation to the special biograpiiy of Mr. Stocktfin. It chatiics him with a lukewarnmess in the cause of his country, wliich he was incapable of fseiing, and burdens his character with the indirect displeasure of the lecis- liiuire, which, it is expressly proved, by the subsequent measures of that body, was never entertained. The circumstance which is related by Dr. Gordon never occurred; its absurdity is renci'^red palpable by a 'eforcnce to the lecords of the day, which prove the unanimous election of ?tL'. Stockton as cliief justice of the slate, by the identical legislature wliich is supp)Sed, on the preceding day, to have so highly disapproved of his conduct as to re- ject him as governur. When, »o this mark of confidence, is added his re- (dection to cunsress (.n the oOtli of November, about three months subsequent to this hypothetical occurrence, we are enabled properly to estimate Iha assertion of Dr. Gtirdon. [There is no evdence on record that the vote was unanimous. The min- utes only say that he was •' dul>" elected. I find, also, by consulting the record, that Mr. Stockton's election was on the same day with that of Mr. Livingston.] 74 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. who, in those trying times, had been singled out from among their compeers, to guide the destinies of the new state. Mr. Livingston was about seven years the senior of Mr. Stock- ton — his habits of life had connected him more with the masses of the people — he had been a large contributor to the public journals, and had held a high military station. Mr. Stockton, on the other hand, had devoted himself very much to his pro- fession- — he was particularly eminent as a jurist — had been raised to the bench of the supreme court under the royal government, and in the administration of that office had commanded the respect and admiration of the people. The election of ^Mr. Livingston, therefore, probably resulted from a compromise between the friends of the two candidates. The more active was designated for Governor, and the more stu- dious for Chief .Justice. The election of Mr. Stockton to the lirst place in the State Judiciary, on the same day, is a strong- circumstance in proof of this conjecture, and shows also the high confidence reposed in his integrity and patriotism by the represen- tatives of the people. There was evidently no serious di&rence of opinion between those members of joint meeting who had originally divided on this question, and the facts prove that the legislature were exceedingly desirous to retain Mr. Stockton in the public service. He did not accept the appointment thus conferred upon him but continued to discharge hj^ duties in Congress, and in the fol- lowing November suffered himself to be re-elected. His labors in that body were, how^ever, interrupted by the ravages of the enemy. New Jersey soon became the scene of strife, and Mr. Stock- ton's duty to his family required his temporary withdrawal from the public councils. His residence was in the direct route of the triumphant enemy, and he returned home to convey his wife and family to a place of greater safety. " After remaining in his dwelling to the latest period that the RICriAKD STOCKTON. 75 safety of his family would admit, in order to afford the remnant of our distressed army as it passed, in its retreat, through the village of Princeton, such assistance as was in his power, he started with his wife and young children for the county of Monmouth, and took up his temporary abode with his friend, John Coven- hoven, about 30 miles from the supposed route of the British army."* But men who had been conspicuous in the public service were no where safe. A tory who had become acquainted with the place of his abode, gave information to a party of refugee royalists who, on the 30th of November, the very day on v;hich he was re-elected to the continental congress, surrounded the house at night, drag^red him from his bed, plundered \m\\ of all his loose property and carried him, by the way of Ambny, prisoner to New York. " At Amboy," says his biographer, " he was exposed to the severity of extremely cold weather, in the comm.on jail, which barbarity, together with his subsequent treatment in New York, laid the foundation of the disease which terminated his existence in 1781. On his removal to New York he was ignorainiously consigned to the common prison, and v/ithout the least regard for his rank, age and delicate health, for some time treated with unusual severity. He was not only deprived of the comforts, but the necessaries of life, having been left more than twenty-four * This John Covenhoveii was taken prisoner at the same time with Mr. Stockton, and took a piutection from tlie Britisli aiuhorities. He was a mem- ber of the le?;islature at tlie time, and on the 4th of March, 1777, was ortleicd before the House to answer for his conduct. Tiie record says; "He was called in and heard respecting his heino- taken prisoner by the tones and car- ried to New York ; audit appearing;, by iVIr. Covenhoven's own confession, that he bad taken the oath of alleiriance to the kinp; of Great Britain, and had given secuiity to remain inactive during the contest between Great Britain and the United States," Resolved, 'I'hat Mt. John Covenhoven has thereby rendered himself unfit to take his Seat in this House, and that his seat be vacated accordingly. — [Journals in the state library-] 76 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. hours without food, and afterwards afforded a very coarse and Ihnited supply." It is probable that Mr. Stockton remained a prisoner for several months, and that he was ultimately released through the inter- position of congress. On the third of January, 1777, that body, having heard a report of his capture and cruel treatment, directed General Washington " to make immediate inquiry into the truth of this report, and if he finds reason to believe it well founded, that he send a flag to General Howe, remonstrating against this departure fz'om that humane procedure which has marked the conduct of these states to prisoners who have fallen into their hands ; and to know of Gen. Howe whether he chooses this shall be the future rale for treating all such, on both sides, as the fortune of war may place in the hands of either party." On returning to his estate after his imprisonment, he found that, by the wanton depredations of the British army and the depreciation of continental money, his ample fortune was very considerably impaired. His large library, one of the richest possessed by any private citizen in the new world, had been ruth- lessly laid in ashes, his papers had shared the same melancholy fate, his farms were laid waste, his fine stock of horses had been carried off, and his personal property had nearly all disappeared ; indeed he found himself only the proprietor of his devastated lands, and was even compelled to have recourse to the temporary aid of his friends for the present supply of his pressing wants, and for restoring to order the wreck of his estate and what re- mained of the mansion of his fathers. These depressing circumstances, together with the hardships he had suffered during his imprisonment, so materially impaired his constitution, that he was never again able to serve in the public councils of the nation. He withdrew altogether from con- gress, and being attacked in his neck by a cancerous affection, he sank gradually, with great suffering, to a premature grave. He closed his short, but brilliant career at the family mansion RICHAJID STOCKTOX. /7 in Princeton, on the 28th of February, 1781, in the fifty-first year of his age. Had Mr. Stockton lived, he would probably have risen to a much higher place in the affections of the American people. His intellect was vigorous and well balanced, and his firmness and love of justice commanded the respect of all who knew him. For the Christian religion he entertained the most sincere and becoming reverence, and strove to regulate his life by its require- ments, without yielding to those strong sectarian prejudices which too often mar the beauty of the Christian character. He was, from his youth, a member and a liberal supporter of the Presbyterian church, and evinced, both by his life and death, the sincerity of his profession. The Rev. Dr. Smith, in the dis- course which he pronounced at his funeral, remarked, that " neither the ridicule of licentious wits, nor the example of vice in power, could tempt him to disguise the profession of it, or in- duce him to decline from the practice of its virtues." This feature in his character is strongly and beautifully por- trayed, in the care which he took to impress. religious truth on the minds of his children. In the will by which he disposed of his large estate, he also left his offspring a rich legacy of good counsel. He says: — "As my children will have frequent occa- sion of perusing this instrument, and may probably be particu- larly^ impressed with the last words of their father, I think it proper here, not only to subscribe to the entire belief of the great and leading doctrines of the Christian Religion *** but also in the bowels of a father's afi'ection, to charge and exhort them to remember that ' the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wis- dom.' " On the subject of attachment to particular divisions of the Christian Church, he holds the following liberal language : " As Almighty God has not been pleased in the Holy Scriptures to prescribe any precise mode in which he is to be pubUcly wor- shiped, all contention about it generally arises from want of 78 DISTINGUISHED JERSEYMEN. knowledge or v/ant of virtue. I have no particular advice to leave to my children upon this subject, save only that they de- liberately and conscientiously, in the beginning of life, deter- mine for themselves with which denomination of Christians they can most devoutly worship God, and that, after such deter- mination, they steadily adhere to that denomination, without being given to change, and without contending against or judg- ing others who may think or act differently, in a matter so imma- terial to substantial virtue and piety." During the time that he was actively engaged in his profes- sion, his reputation was so great, that the first gentlemen of the country regarded it as important to the future success of their sons that they should pursue their legal studies under his super- vision. In passing through the old mansion at Princeton, now in possession of Commodore R. F: Stockton, the grandson of Richard Stockton, the writer was pointed to a room, which still bears the name of the office, in w^hich he was told that some of the brightest ornaments of the bar had taken their initiatory les- sons in the legal science. Among the number was the Hon. Elias Boudinot, Gov. Patterson, Jonathan D. Sergeant, Hon. Jonathan Rutherford, Vice President Burr of N. Y., Gov. Reed of Pa., Col. Wm. Davis, of Virginia, and others. ,His biographer, who appears to have known him well, thus sums up his character: " He M^as a profound and erudite la^\'}'er, and his decisions and opinions while on the bench, in committees of congress, on admiralty questions, and in the high court of errors of New Jersey, were considered of high authority. His study of the great orators of antiquity, with whose writings, in the original languages, he was familiar, his acquaintance with the best wri- ters of modern times, and his practical opportunities of hearing the Ciceros' and Demosthenes' of Great Britain, uniting with his native genius, invested him with a superior and powerful eloquence, which has rarely been exceeded in this country. He RICHARD STOCKTON. 79 also possessed a natural inclination towai'ds music, and a refined taste for poetry, painting, and the fine arts in general. " Mr. Stockton, when unadorned by the gorgeous robes of judicifil office that prevailed previous to the revolution, was neat but simple in his dress. Before the re v^olutionary contest he lived in a state of splendor, frequently adopted by distinguished men under the royal government, which the advantages of a country- residence and the possession of affluence, rendered easy and agreeable. Every stranger who visited his mansion was cor- dially welcomed in the genuine style of ancient hospitality, and it was customary in those days for travellers and visitors to call upon men of rank. " Mr. Stockton possessed a generous and intrepid spirit ; he was naturally somewhat hasty in his temper, and quickly in- flamed by any attempts to deceive or oppress him ; but he was placable, and readily pacified by the acknowledgment of error. Revenge, or permanent malice or resentment, were never har- bored in his breast. He was an affectionate father, a tender hus- band, and an indulgent master ; mild and courteous to his equals, and just and merciful to his tenants, debtors and dependents. To his inferiors, and those who sought his favor and conciliated his affections, he was affable and kind ; but to those who sup- posed themselves his superiors, his carriage was stern and lofty, and if their self-sufficiency was manifested by any want of de- corum or personal respect, it was, perhaps, his foible to evince an unnecessary portion of haughtiness and resentment. " He was a man of great coolness and courage. His bodily powers, both in relation to strength and agility, were of a very superior grade, and he was highly accomplished in all the manly exercises peculiar to the period in wliich he lived ; his skill as a horseman and swordsman was particularly great. In person he was tall and commanding, approaching nearly to six feet in height. His mannere were dignified, simple though highly pol- ished, and to strangers, at the first interview, apparently reserved ; 80 DISTINGUISHED JEESEYMEN. but as the acquaintance advanced, they were exceedingly fasci- nating and accomplished, which appeared particularly conspicu- ous towards his friends and companions. " His eyes were of a light gray colour, and his physiognomy open, agreeable and manly. When silent, or uninterested in conversation, there was nothing remarkably attractive in his countenance, but when his mind was excited, his eyes instantly assumed a corresponding brilliancy, his whole appearance be- came excessively interesting, and every look and action strongly expressive of such emotions as he wished to produce. " His forensic career was attended with unrivalled reputa- tion and success, and he refused to engage in any cause which he knew to be unjust, invariably standing forth in the defence of the helpless and oppressed. To his superior powers of mind and professional learning, he united a flowing and persuasive eloquence, and he was a christian who was an honor to the church."* * Biography in SJanderson's Lives, of the signers of the Declaration of In- dependence. 412 Democracy in America. [July, Art, V. — Democracy in America. Part II. The Social In- fluence of Democracy. By Alexis De Tocqueville, Member of the Institute of France and of the Chamber of Deputies, &c., &c. Translated by Henry Reeve, Esq. With an Ori- ginal Preface by John C. Spencer, Counsellor at Law. New- York : J. & H. G. Langley, 57 Chatham-street. The existence of a government like that of the United States, continued, as it has been, through more than half a century without material change, and controlling a territory nearly equal to two-thirds of the entire continent of Europe, with a rapidly increasing popula- tion, which has already reached about seventeen millions of souls, prosperous, enterprising, and happy, presents, to the nations of the old world, a problem, at once so novel and so difficult of solution as to have made it a study of no ordinary interest. Hence the great variety of books on America, descriptive, abusive, and philo- sophical, which have teemed from the press, and the greedy avidity with which every thing on this topic has been received by our transatlantic brethren. Nor is this at all surprising. A democracy like that under which we live is an anomaly in the history of the world. Such a degree of human liberty as we enjoy seems never to have entered into the conceptions of the most enlightened political philosopher, much less to have been ingrafted on any particular form of government. From the days of Adam downward, political freedom has been no part of the policy of nations ; although it has gradually been gaining a foothold as light and knowledge have been diffused among the masses of mankind, and the gloomy superstition of past ages has been lost in the beams of that glorious reformation in which we live. The empires of Alexander and of the Ccsars were a vast im- provement on the grand and gloomy despotisms of China and Egypt ; and the rude tribes of the north who despoiled the great Roman empire, and parceled out its walled cities and cultivated fields among their warrior chiefs, unconsciously adopted into their feudal governments those elements, which, like the leaven " hid in the three measures of meal," have ever since been silently working the melioration of our race, and have carried on the great reform : but still the cause of Innnan rights, as it pursued its " course of empire" from the ancient despotisms of the East toward the setting 1841.] Democracy in Amenca. 413 sun, paused not in its career of glory until it found a genial resting place amid the sublime forests and mighty prairies of the new world. It must not, however, be forgotten, that, for a long time, the general tendency of events throughout the world had favored this consummation. The feudal barons of Europe, who had inherited with the soil the reins of government, and who exacted from their vassals the most servile obedience, had, at an early day, adopted the Christian faith, and as the clergy opened its ranks to all classes, when the church arose into power, a way was prepared by which the degraded serf could take his seat among the proudest of the nobles — the wars of the Crusades divided the possessions of the aristocracy, and caused the lower orders to feel their strength — the invention of fire-arms destroyed the supremacy of the privileged orders on the field of battle — the art of printing cheapened the researches of wisdom, and carried the same information to the door of the cottage and the palace — the growing taste for literature opened chances of success to learning and talent — the enactment of civil laws made room for judges and advocates, and the wealth acquired by commerce gave importance to skill and enterprise. Thus it was that the serfs and menials of the feudal ages grew gradually into importance until in most European kingdoms they have acquired a representation in the deliberative bodies, limited, it is true, but still beyond all price. " The value attached to the privileges of birth," says M. de Tocqueville, in his introduction, " decreased in the exact proportion in which new paths were struck out to advancement. In the eleventh century nobility was beyond all price ; in the thirteenth it might be purchased ; it was confer7'ed, for the first time, in 1270 : and equality was thus introduced into the government by the aristocracy itself." But notwithstanding these general tendencies in favor of the emancipation of man — notwithstanding all that had been gained by the people in their oft-repeated struggles, tlic democratic principle was not permitted fully to prevail in the old world ; nay, we may safely affirm, that there it is neither appreciated nor understood : . and although its progress is evidently onward, and it is destined ere long to undermine the tottering thrones of those sovereigns who hold their power by divine right, and to level still furtlicr the arti- ficial distinctions of European society ; yet is its course as silent as 414 Democracy in America. [July, the smooth waters of some mighty river whose restless current sweeps from before it all the feeble impediments of man. But this principle, which has thus been struggling for a feeble existence in feudal Europe, is indigenous to America. It dwells in the fastnesses of her hills — it riots unrestrained in her deep and gloomy forests — its altar is found wherever the free air braces the nerves of her hardy sons. The little company of forty-one pilgrims, who formed themselves into a republic on board the Mayflower, in Plymouth harbor, more than two hundred years ago, adopted, as the basis of their compact, the sovereignty of the people, and from that time to the present, neither the ties of consanguinity, nor the reverence entertained by the children for their father-land, nor the presence of hostile armies sent to awe them into submission, has had power to swerve the inhabitants of the new world from their deep devotion to democratic freedom. " In the bosoms of this people there was burning, kindled at different furnaces, but all furnaces of affliction, one clear, steady flame of liberty." The democratic principle was here sufl'ered to separate itself from all those influences which had repressed its growth in the old world. It struck deep into the soil, it was mingled with the atmosphere which the emigrants inhaled, and its consequences are written on the whole outline of American society. They are to be seen in the perfect freedom of our institu- tions — in the equality recognized by our laws — in the energy and enterprise of our citizens — in the high tone of our morals, and the general education and intelligence of our people. It is not, then, we repeat, a matter of surprise that America, directed by influences so totally different from those which still cling to the ancient aristocracies of Europe, should continue to be an interesting study to the political philosopher, and that a book which discloses some of the hidden springs of our success — which, in the spirit of candor and fairness, seeks to investigate all the great bearings of that wonderful principle which lies at the founda- tion of our institutions, and which thus leaves its impress on every thing American, should have awakened the curiosity of Europe, and produced a sensation throughout the civilized world. The first part of Democracy in America has been a long time before the public. The author, M. de Tocqueville, was one of two commissioners (the other being M. de Beaumont) sent to 1841.] Democracy in America. 415 America some years ago, by the French government, to examine our prisons and penitentiaries. On their return to France they made such a report as produced an entire change in the prison disciphne of France. Each of them, soon after, brought out a book on America, and that of M. de Tocqueville has, within a few months, been succeeded by a second. The value of these books may be estimated from the rank which they have ah'eady acquired in the hterature of the age. It is said that M. Thiers, while prime minister of France, and after the publication of the first volume of " Democracy in America," expressed himself publicly in his place in the chamber of deputies as happy to have lived in the same age that produced this book. Sir Robert Peel, and other English authorities, have expressed equal admiration of M. de Tocqueville's labors ; , and Mr. Spencer, the secretary of state for New-York, in announcing the second part, tells us, in his preface, that " in Europe it has taken its stand with Montesquieu, Bacon, Milton, and Locke." This is high praise — much too high, certainly — but it will serve to show the interest which M. de Tocqueville's labors have excited. What adds particularly to the value of these books is the fact that they have not been written for America, but for Europe. In his preface to the first book, M. de Tocqueville, says, — " It was not, then, merely to satisfy a legitimate curiosity that I have examined America. My wish has been to find instruction by which we might ourselves profit." And again : — " I sought the image of democracy itself, with its inclinations, its character, its prejudices, and its passions, in order to learn what we have to hope and fear from its progress." And having adverted to some of the causes which have been at work in Europe, and to which we have already alluded, showing that the democratic principle is developing itself more and more, and that a silent revolution is going forward in the old world, he says : — " The Christian nations of our age seem to me to present a most alarming spectacle ; the impulse which is bearing them along is so strong that it cannot be slopped, but it is not yet so rapid that it cannot be guided ; their fate is in their hands ; yet, a Httlc while, and it may be so no longer." He then proceeds to pomt out the duty which this fact seems to enjoin : — " The duty," he continues, " which is at this time imposed upon those who direct our affairs, 416 Democracy in America. [July, is to educate the democracy ; to warm its faith, if that be possible ; to purify its morals ; to direct its energies ; to substitute a know- ledge of business for its inexperience, and an acquaintance with its true interests for its blind propensities ; to adapt its government to time and place, and to modify it in compliance with the occurrences and the actors of the age." In his second book he seems equally anxious that the nations of Europe should profit by the secret revolution which is everywhere going on in favor of democratic equality. At the close of the volume he sums up the advantages and disadvantages which must attend such a revolution, and ends with these words : — " The nations of our time cannot prevent the conditions of men from be- coming equal : but it depends upon themselves whether the prin- ciple of equality is to lead them to servitude or freedom, to know- ledge or barbarism, to prosperity or wretchedness." It is clear from these passages, as well as from the whole tenor of the work, that the author's chief object was to produce an impression in his own country and in western Europe generally. " Democracy in America" is written in a most attractive style, rather diffuse and florid, perhaps too much so for the definiteness which the subject required. A little more precision, method, and accuracy, would have added value to these volumes, though they would scarcely have increased their interest. But apart from the mere choice of language and form of expression, the author has, throughout, maintained a seriousness, dignity, and good faith which is above all commendation, and which contrasts so admirably with the flippancy and vulgarity which are so common in foreign books on America, as at once to insure the confidence of the reader. He has certainly fallen into errors, some of which are important, but his volumes, nevertheless, contain no faults which are not entirely consistent with the most upright intentions, while they evince great reach of thought, strong powers of observation, and a freedom from prejudice which, more than any thing else, commands our admiration. The first part of his work has, in America, passed through four editions. It has, of course, been extensively read and commented on. Nearly half of it is devoted to an account of the political insti- tutions of this country, federal, state, and municipal, which is given with great accuracy and fidelity, and is probably the best condensed 1841,] Democracy in America. 417 description of the machinery of our government before the pubhc. The remainder is more speculative, and consists of a series of essays, not particularly dependent on each other, in which lie in- vestigates the tendency of various influences at work in our system of government, and traces their effects. In this part he treats of the sovereignty of the people — the character of parties — the liberty of the press — the government of the democracy — the advantages resulting from the government of the democracy — the omnipotence of majorities — the causes which tend to maintain a democratic government — and the probable future condition of the three races by which our country is peopled. We have recounted some of the most important subjects dis- cussed, that the reader who has not found leisure to peruse the volume may understand something of the grave matters which the author undertakes to handle. It contains several errors, which, in this country, are generally regarded as important, and which have been pretty fully noticed by the public press. These have proba- bly resulted from the limited observation which a year's residence afforded, and although they are to be regretted, yet they by no means destroy the interest of the volume. As it has been a long time before the public, it is not our purpose to bring its contents under revision. The second part of " Democracy in America" has but lately issued from the press in this country, and is a continuation of the subject. The furst part was occupied in tracing the influence of democracy on our political institutions : the second part traces the same cause in its operation on oiu: social relations. It is divided into four books, possessing all the ease and elegance, the ingenuity and vivacity, of the former volume : and those who followed the author with pleasure through the labyrinth of his speculations on our political condition, will be equally delighted with his views of the tastes, feelings, habits, and manners of American society. His first division treats of the influence of democracy on public opinion, thought, religious belief, the cultivation of the arts, litera- ture, and language. The second is devoted to the influence of democracy on our feelings ; its tendency to produce association, to foster a disposition for thrift, to make us dissatisfied, restless, and enterprising. In the third he examines the influence of democracy on our manners ; explains how it renders our intercourse simple 418 Democracy in America. [July, and easy ; how it affects the education of women, and their course of conduct as wives and mothers ; how it diminishes the distance between masters and servants, and produces a healthful action on the morals of society. In the fourth he discusses the influence of democratic opinions and sentiments on political society, the subjects of which are more connected with those treated of in his first volume. It will be seen by this outline that M. de Tocqueville has under- taken to trace the influence of democracy through all the ramifica- tions of society, and his object seems to be to discover in what manner, and to what extent, it has changed the usages of former times, and what is to be the final result of that great democratic revolution which he beholds progressing so rapidly around him. His tone is, on the whole, decidedly favorable to the cause of de- mocracy, though there are many instances in which he throws the advantage on the other side. His work is a philosophical inquiry after political and moral truth, and he sets down the result as he finds it, without regard either to his own individual preferences, or those of the reader. We have spoken elsewhere of the vast difference between M. de Tocqueville and the common herd of tourists who visit America, and one feature of this difference, we think, has been pointed out by a contemporary. It is, that when he speaks of the principles of government he knows ivhat he is talking about. He does not expect to find in a country, whose government is based on the sovereignty of the people, the same distinctions, the same tastes, the same quiet ease and dignity, which he sees where the affairs of the state are guided by the privileged few ; but he is not re- luctant to acknowledge that although we lose in some things, yet we gain in more. The democratic principle of government is so far removed from the aristocratic that no man in his senses can expect it to produce the same effects on society. When we cast our eye backward on the splendid despotisms of antiquity, we behold with wonder the grand results which they have accomplished. The gorgeous tombs, the gigantic statuary, the spacious temples, the lofty pyra- mids which are so profusely scattered through the valley of the Nile, and whose sohd and massive structure has caused them to outlive their own history, strike us with amazement, and call forth 1841.] Democracy in America. 419 all our admiration for the wonderful people who could have erected such vast monuments to their own glory. But when we reflect that these magnificent works could have been constructed only under the most perfect despotism — that to accomplish them, re- quired a nation of slaves, controlled by the will of an absolute master, we fall back with pleasure on the general freedom of modern ages, and are quite content to part with the grandeur of Egypt for the comforts diffused through society by the milder sway of equal laws. It is impossible that any one government should combine the advantages of all. As the inclination of the earth's axis to the ecliptic causes a variety of climates, each of which favors a par- , ticular kind of production, so do the various forms of government develop their own peculiar results. In a country where every man is at liberty to appropriate his own labors, an air of thrift and comfort is diffused through every part of the community, and the desire of well-being actuates every bosom — in a country where these labors are plundered by the state, or diverted to the support of aristocratic pride, a privileged few may live in the splendors of royalty, but the mass of the people will be chained to squalid penury and servile degradation. This is too plain a proposition to have escaped the observing mind of such a man as M. de Tocqueville. " I find," says he, "that a great number of my contemporaries undertake to make a certain selection from among the institutions, the opinions and the ideas which originated in the aristocratic constitution of society as it was : a portion of these elements they would willingly relinquish, but they would keep the remainder and transplant them into their new world. I apprehend that such men are wasting their time smd their strength in virtuous but unprofitable efforts. The object is not to obtain the peculiar advantages which the inequality of con- ditions bestows upon mankind, but to secure the 7iew benefits which equality may supply. We have not to seek to make our- selves like our progenitors, but to strive to work out that species of greatness and happiness Avhich is our own." This is the philosophy which should direct modem nations, and which has particularly prevailed in the structure of our own govern- ment. Here the democratic principle, by which we mean the principle of vesting in the mass of the people the free direction of 420 Democracy in America. [July, the civil government, has teen suffered to take an alnriost unlimited control of the stale. " There is a country in the world," says M. de Tocqueville in the preface to his first volume, " w^here the great revolution which I am speaking of seems nearly to have reached its natural limits." Nearly, but not wholly. The framers of our constitution thought fit to introduce into the government a variety of checks and balances in order to guard against what they conceived to be the tendency in democracies to sudden and violent changes ; but with this qualification the democratic principle pre- vails to its fullest extent, and its results are recorded in our rapidly increasing population, in the productive energy of our country, in the happiness and prosperity of our citizens. There is a part of the volume before us which will be read with peculiar pleasure. We mean those chapters which treat of the influence of democracy on kindred, female education, and domestic morals. M. de Tocqueville has studied the character of our domestic relations with peculiar care, and very happily traces out the changes which democracy has introduced into the family circle. He sees that the principle of equality which has so modified our political institutions, has also diminished the distance between father and son, wife and husband, master and servant, causing a closer connection and a more easy familiarity between them, and pre- serving the level in the domestic circle as perfectly as he has shown it to exist in the political. He speaks in a high tone of eulogy of American women — sketches the diflerence between their education and that of other nations — and shows the influence which this edu- cation exerts on their lives. His observations on this subject are to the point, and worthy of public attention. He also contends that there is more equality between the sexes in America than else- where, and in his chapter on this subject has placed the relative standing of the sexes on its true and natural grounds. The elevation of women has of late been a fruitful topic of dis- cussion. There are those who, unmindful of the characteristic distinctions of the sexes, would make the man and woman not only equal, but alike. " They would give to both the same functions, impose on both the same duties, and grant to both the same rights: they would mix them in all things — their occupations, their plea- sures, their business." We cannot but think that such an equality thus gained by setting at naught the clearest indications of the 1841.] Democracy in America. 421 Creator's will, and by distorting that beautiful harmony which has been diffused through all the works of the great Architect, instead of elevating the character of the one sex, degrades them both, pro- ducing " weak men, and disorderly women."* We are rejoiced to see, that although such doctrines have fre- quently been advocated in this country, -the French philosopher regards us as particularly free from their influence. "In no country," he says, " has such constant care been taken as in America to trace two clearly distinct lines of action for the two sexes, and to make them keep pace one Avith another, but in two pathways which are always different. American women never manage the outward concerns of the family, or conduct a business, or take a part in political life ; nor are they, on the other hand, ever compelled to perform the. rough labor of the fields, or to make any of those laborious exertions which demand a great outlay of physical strength. Hence it is that the women of America, who often ex- hibit a masculine strength of understanding and a manly energy, generally preserve great delicacy of personal appearance, and always retain the manners of women, although they sometimes show that they have the hearts and minds of men. " Thus the Americans do not think that man and woman have either the duty or the right to perform the same offices, but they show an equal regard for both their respective parts ; and though their lot is different, they consider both of them as being of equal value. They do not give to the courage of woman the same form or the same direction as to that of man ; but they never doubt her courage : and if they hold that man and his partner ought not always to exercise their intellect and understanding in the same manner, they at least believe the understanding of the one to be as sound as that of the other, and her intellect to be as clear. As for myself," he continues, " I do not hesitate to avow, that, although the women of the United States are confined within the narrow circle of do- mestic life, and their situation is, in some respects, one of extreme dependence, I have nowhere seen women occupying a loftier posi- tion ; and if I were asked, now that I am drawing to the close of this work, in which I have spoken of so many important things done by the Americans, to what the singular prosperity and grow- ing strength of that people ought mainly to be attributed, I should reply — To the superiority of their women." Vol. I.— 27 422 Democracy in America. [July, We confess that this view of the subject, by one who has proved himself to be so accurate an observer of society, has afforded us the highest satisfaction. It places the equahty of the sexes in a view so natural and easy, as to put to shame those political phi- losophers, who, acting on the false supposition that women are degraded, because they are not permitted by the usages of society to mount the rostrum, to exercise the elective franchise, and to figure in the halls of legislation, are clamoring for their elevation. We are not among those who contend for the intellectual inferiority of women : but there is a beautiful fitness in all the works of God, and it does not require the eye of a philosopher to discover that her empire is not amid the tumult and strife of the great and stormy world, — that to maintain her equality with her lord, it is not neces- sary to measure swords with him on the field of battle, nor to force the gentle tones of her voice into the masculine strain of bold debate in the senate. She is his equal in another and a better sense, and we rejoice that M. de Tocqueville has not found in the influences of democracy a power to lure her from the true sphere of her glory, or to destroy the beautiful harmony of that law which the Deity impressed upon our natures, when he said, *' It is not good for man to be alone : I will make him a help meet for him.^'' It has long been an observation of foreigners, which has generally been conceded as true, here, that the higher sciences have made much less progress in the United States than in the civilized nations of Europe ; and that celebrated writers, and great poets, artists, &c., are proportionally rare. Many persons, struck by these facts, have regarded them as the legitimate results of democracy, and have supposed that if similar systems of government were generally to prevail, '' the human mind would gradually find its beacon lights grow dim," and society relapse into its pristine barbarism. M. de Tocqueville combats this idea, and contends that there is nothing in democracy incompatible with the loftiest pursuits of science. He regards the result in America as having risen from causes purely accidental. In treating of this subject he dwells on the peculiar relation be- tween the United States and the old world, a circumstance which has not been sufficiently attended to. We have generally been regarded as a young people, just sprung, as it were, into existence, and liable to be molded into any form which the course of events 27* 1841.1 Democracy in America. 423 may impress upon us. Nothing can be more incorrect. We are a branch lopped off from an old and highly cultivated nation. The artists, scholars, poets, and philosophers of Great Britain are all ours. We have had the same origin w^ith that nation, speak the same language, and have perpetuated the same general opinions, manners, customs, and pursuits. Our country has, however, been mostly filled up by adventurers in pursuit of gain, and such has been the bountiful returns which it has yielded to industry, that the struggle for wealth has hitherto been so much the leading idea of American society, that all other pursuits have obtained but a secondary place. " I cannot," says M. de Tocqueville, " consent to separate America from Europe, in spite of the ocean that inter- venes. I consider the people of the United States as that portion of the English people which is commissioned to explore the wilds of the new world,; while the rest of the nation, enjoying more leisure, and less harassed by the drudgery of life, may devote its energies to thought, and enlarge, in all directions, the empire of the mind." This view of the case will generally be acknowledged as correct. The Americans, with the store-house of English arts and letters open to them, could not fail to be a cultivated people, although they have not distinguished themselves in literatiure or the fine arts. But whoever has watched the progress of society here, will have disco- vered that as capital accumulates, and the pursuits of men admit of greater leisure, the taste for the fine arts has gradually improved, and men who make literature and science the business of their lives are becoming less and less rare. Within the last few years Anthon, Wayland, Upham, Stuart, Day, Bancroft, Sparks, Prescott, and others, have given to the world works of that standaAl and sterling character which will go far to prove that the temper of democracy is not unfriendly to the cultivation of letters. At the same time it is true that in America, and probably, to a greater or less extent, in all democratic countries, the people are naturally dis- posed to practical rather than theoretical science. The general equality of conditions, and the ease with which men rise from one position in society to another, prove a constant stimulant to exertion and enterprise. The people are therefore restless, ambitious, and constantly seeking some shorter road to wealth and fame. Every machine which spares labor, every instnmient which diminishes 424 Democracy in America. fJuly, the cost of production, every invention which promises m any way to be useful, and every discovery that promotes the well being of man, possesses a peculiar value. Hence all the powers of the mind are brought to bear on practical results. " These very Americans," says de Tocqueville, " who have not discovered one of the general laws of mechanics, have introduced into navigation an engine which changes the aspect of the uwrldT It is also this everlasting struggle for something higher and bet- ter, resulting from a feeling that actuates every bosom, but which in America is brought out into the foreground by the freedom of our condition, which produces that perpetual disquiet — that inordi- nate love of excitement — that peculiar " unrest" which has so fre- quently attracted the notice of foreigners. " A native of the United States," says the French tourist, " clings to this world's goods as if he were certain never to die ; and he is so hasty at grasping at all within his reach, that one would suppose he was constantly afraid of not living long enough to enjoy them. He clutches every thing, he holds nothing fast, but soon loosens his gTasp to pm-sue fresh gratifications. A man builds a house to spend his latter years in, and sells it before the roof is on : he plants a garden, and lets it just as the trees are coming into bearing : he brings a field into tillage, and leaves other men to gather the crops : he embraces a profession, and gives it up : he settles in a place which he soon after leaves to carry his changeable longings elsewhere. If his private affairs leave him any leisure, he instantly plunges into the vortex of politics : and if at the end of a year of unremitting labor he finds he has a few days' vacation, his eager curiosity whirls him over the vast extent of the United States, and he will travel fifteen hun- dred miles in a few days to shake off his happiness. Death at length overtakes him, but it is before he is weary of his bootless chase of that complete felicity which is ever on the wing." M. de Tocqueville justly observes, that this spectacle is not in itself a novelty, but that the novelty consists in the fact of a tvhole nation being actuated by the same unconquerable restlessness at the same time, which doubtless results from the great freedom of our condition, and the part which every man takes in public affairs. Here every thing must necessarily be in motion. Public opinion is the basis of all public action, and to direct it every effort is put into requisition. Eloquence, argument, association, the pulpit, the 1841.] Democracy in America. 425 press, all do their part. The Dutch smoke over every thing, the Americans talk over every thing. Here the people are met to decide on the building of a church ; there they are canvassing for the next election ; a little further on they are discussing some public im- provement ; and in another direction they are passing censures on the government. Schools, colleges, roads, canals, morals, and almost every thing else are patronized here by the public, as they are abroad by the nobility. This feature alone gives an air of bus- tle to the country, which, however, is greatly increased by the rich reward which is sure to follow energy and enterprise. The disposition to associate for the accomplishment of any great object, though not peculiar to America, is, in the nature of things, carried to a much greater extent here than in Europe, and for rea- sons similar to those which have been assigned above. This cir- cumstance could not fail to attract the attention of so acute an observer as de Tocqueville. " The most democratic country on the face of the earth," he observes, " is that in which men have, in our time, carried to the highest perfection the art of pursuing, in common, the object of their common desires, and have applied this new science to the greatest number of purposes. Is this the result of accident ? or is there in reality any necessary connection between the principle of association and that of equality ?" The conclusion to which he arrives is, that it is a natural result of democratic society. Here individuals, being less powerful than in aristocratic countries, find it more necessary to combine their strength : and hence the accomplishment of those gigantic works which are everywhere going on around us, and which without such combination could never be effected. " Wherever," he says, " at the head of some new undertaking, you see the government, in France, or a man of rank, in England, in the United States you are sure to find an association." The associations for moral and intellectual cultivation seem particularly to have attracted his atten- tion, and he speaks frequently of their importance and influence. " The first time," says he, " I heard in the United States that a hmidred thousand men had bound themselves publicly to abstain from spirituous liquors, it appeared to me more like a joke than a serious engagement ; and I did not at once perceive wliy these temperate citizens could not content themselves with drinking water by their own firesides, I at last understood that these hundred thou- 426 Democracy in America. [July, sand Americans, alarmed by the progress of drunkenness around them, had made up their minds to patronize temperance. They acted just in the same way as a man of high rank who should dress very plainly in order to inspire the humbler orders with a contempt for luxury." The great propensity for speech-making in our representative assemblies is very appropriately noticed by M. de Tocqueville, and the causes which produce it pointed out. " In America," he says, " it generally happens that a representative becomes somebody from his position in the assembly. He is therefore perpetually haunted by a craving to acquire importance there, and he feels a petulant desire to be constantly obtruding his opinions on the house. His own vanity is not the only stimulant which urges him on in this course, but that of his constituents, and the continual necessity of propitiating them." This idea is followed through several pages, and the author un- dertakes to show, what is probably clear enough to the reader, that the more intimate and immediate the dependence between the repre- sentative and his constituents, the more will this disposition be encouraged. In all democratic countries eloquence must neces- sarily be one of the great levers by which society is moved, as it is more apt to inspire admiration among the masses than any other quality, unless it may be personal courage. Public speaking is, therefore, the shortest road to fame, and it is consequently crowded with votaries. But as the spirit of our institutions causes a con- stant change in our representative bodies, it follows that a multitude of persons must always find their way to our legislative halls who, while they have the disposition to distinguish themselves by a speech, are little skilled in the graces of oratory. It is some con- solation, however, to know that what we thus lose in djgnity, we gain in honest intentions and purity of purpose. A frequent change of representation is a strong safeguard against corruption. We had purposed to devote a portion of this article to an examina- tion of those parts of M. de Tocqucville's work which we hold to be erroneous : his doctrine of the tyranny of majorities — his views of the instability of our laws — his chapter on the aversion of demo- cracies to revolutions — the legal profession, and other things Avhich have occurred to us in the course of our reading. Some of these topics are mainly discussed in the first part of Democracy in Ame- 1841.1 Democracy in America. 427 rica, but as they are reiterated in the vokime before us, they very properly come within the scope of this article. But we have already occupied so much space as to prevent the fulfilment of this design, and we shall only advert in brief terms to that strange position assumed by the French tourist, that democracies are averse to revolutions, because the mass of the people hold property, and all revolutions threaten the teniure of property. We are the more sur- prised at this position because de Tocqueville, in the main, seems to understand us, and for the further reason, that the real cause why great revolutions so seldom take place in democratic govern- ments is so very apparent. Since the final separation of this country from Great Britain, a period of some sixty-five years, we have never had what in Europe would be regarded as a revolution. It is true that we have, during that time, changed our form of government, but this has never been regarded either in Europe or America as a revolution, and produced not half the commotion which has sometimes been exhibited in the election of a president. If we turn to France, the country in which de Tocqueville resides, during the same time, we shall find quite a different state of things. When Mr. Jefferson wrote the immortal Declaration of Independence, Louis XVI. had just ascended the throne of France. Scarcely had the independence of America been acknowledged by the different powers of Europe, when we behold the monarch deposed, tried, condemned, and be- headed. A succession of great revolutions followed each other with astonishing rapidity. The different constitutions of the national assembly, the convention, the directory — the usurpations of Napoleon, the consulate for ten years, the consulate for life, the empire — then the restoration — then again another mighty revolu- tion caused by tlie appearance of Napoleon from Elba — the hun- dred days — the second restoration — then, after a longer period of quiet, the three days — and, finally, the accession of Louis Philippe. But this fearful catalogue of revolutions bears no proportion to tlie unsuccessful attempts at violent changes which have interrupted the short intervals of tranquility between the chief acts of the drama. For the last few years there has scarcely been an arrival from the " land of corn and wine," without bringing us some account of infernal machines or trials for high treason. Such a contrast could scarcely have escaped the observations 428 Democracy in America. [Julyj of De Tocqueville, and yet, with all his sagacity, he can discover no other reason for the greater permanency of things in America, than that the mass of the people hold property, and, therefore, dread a change. This is the more singular, because oiu: only revolution, that which separated us from Great Britain, originated among the property holders and was sustained by them, and our wars have, also, always been chiefly sustained by the same class. Has it never occurred to the French tourist, that in democracies, where all power is vested in the people, and they are at liberty to change their government just as often as they please, no violent revolutions can ever take place ? Violent revolutions and bloody civil wars occur in the kingdoms of Europe, because one power in the state is arrayed against another ; the king against the people, or the people against the king : but in pure democracies there can be only a single power in the state, viz., the poiuer of the people. When Charles the First, of England, and Louis the Sixteenth, of France, came to the block, it was because they set up the power of the throne in opposition to the will of the subject : and the revolutions of France, in the time of Napoleon, were produced by the army, a power altogether distinct from that of the people. These elements of revolution cannot exist in a democracy. All power is diffused through the ranks of the people, who put in, and thrust out, and change at their pleasure. So long as this democratic principle prevails — so long as the mass of the people have every thing according to their own wishes — there is no motive for violent revolutions, and the government jogs on, apparently without change, while, in fact, it is undergoing constant and essential changes all the time. The ascendency of the Jefferson party in 1801 was, doubtless, the greatest revolution which this country has ever experienced since its independence, and yet we glided into it with less physical disturbance than frequently attends the review of a troop in the old world. Such, then, is the simple reading of this proverb, so difficult to be understood by those who have been nurtured in the school of aristocracy. It must be acknowledged, however, that even we are not entirely free from the danger of revolutions, although such danger results from causes altogether different from those which produce the same effects in Europe. The two most prominent that occur to us are, the clashing interests of individual stales and 1841.]' Democracy in Amenca. 429 sections of the Union, and the question of domestic slavery. We have, however, but httle apprehension, even from these causes, and hitherto, pubhc opinion alone, with a few trifling exceptions, has been sufKcient to control the occasional excitement to which they have given rise. On the whole, we see no reason to doubt the permanency of our admirable form of government, and firmly believe that the coiurse of our country is upward and onward, and that she will long con- tinue to run that career of glory which she has so brilliantly com- menced. Her free institutions continue day by day to develop new resources of enterprise, to devise new modes of improvement, to seek out new channels of enjoyment. Since the adoption of the federal constitution we have continued steadily to advance in wealth and population, and our country has thrown out its arms to embrace a nation of freemen then unborn. From the margin of the Atlantic, where the colonies were first planted, we have spread deep into the western wilds, and great states have sprung up in the very heart of the wilderness. The number of the states has doubled, and the population has quadrupled, but our form of government is more firmly fixed in the affections of the people the further we advance, and there is much less prospect of internal disturbances or a dis- solution of the Union at this moment, than at any former period. Ours is indeed a wonderful country. Vast in extent — vast in resources — vast in its mighty rivers and lofty mountains, but still more wonderful in that freedom of thought and action, which arises from its beautiful system of government. When the members of our great national congress assemble at the capitol in Washington, the free representatives of the sovereigns at home : from what dis- tances do they come ? Through what a variety of climates ? Along what majestic rivers ? But although they are gathered from Maine and from Florida, and from Wisconsin and Missouri, yet do they speak the same language, feel the same patriotism, the same love of the constitution. Although they meet from such distant portions of this great continent, yet we venture to say, that not one out of the two hundred and forty-two representatives and fifty-two senators harbors a thought of revolution or change, further than the mere administration of the government is concerned ; and that of the twenty-six independent nations, who convene in one united congress, there is not one which is not proud of its attachment to the Union. 38 Writings of Washington. [January, Art. III. — The Writings of George Washington: being his Correspondence, Addresses, Messages, and other Papers, offi- cial and private, selected and published from the Original Manuscripts; with a Life of the Author, Notes, and Illus- trations. By Jared Sparks, 12 vols., 8vo. Boston. These volunnes have been for some time before the pubhc, bui they constitute so valuable an addition to the materials of our his- tory that a notice, even at this late day, M^ill hardly be regarded as out of place. The character and services of our great countryman have long been the theme of admiration for the civilized world, and of pride and exultation to America. The publication of his vi^orks will make him still better understood, and rear a monument to his fame and glory which will transmit his image to posterity with far more correctness than chiseled marble ; and continue to endure when columns of stone and statues of brass shall have crumbled back to their dusty elements. It is well known that Washington was a man of the most exact system, and that he preserved with scrupulous care a copy of every letter and document, public or private, which he had occa- sion to pen. That portion which relates to the revolution he always kept with him in camp for reference, and when his labors as commander-in-chief were about to cease he caused it to be copied out in a fair hand in large folios, the number of which, even in this compact form, swelled to no less than forttj-four 3* 1842.] Writings of Washington. 39 volumes : and all his manuscripts, including his correspondence, addresses, reports, messages, &c., during the campaigns of the French war, the revolution, the different periods of his retirement, his administration of the government, &c., constitute eighttj large folio volumes. These writings, whether regarded as materials for illustrating the life, character, and services of the great man from whom thejv have emanated, or for a faithful delineation of those important events with which he was so long connected, and which comprise the most interesting period of our history, are of immense import- ance and value. The position of General Washington as com- mander-in-chief of the army made him the centre of our revolution. He was the heart through which its life's blood pulsated. His letters, consequently, present an entire view of the movements oi the army, the difiiculties of the times, the condition and resources of the country, the spirit of the people, the aifairs of the different colonies and states, the proceedings of the continental congress, the positions assumed toward us by foreign governments, and, indeed, of almost every important circumstance connected with that period of our history. The work before us is a selection from this vast mass of materials : and it is evident, at a glance, that it must have cost many years of application and research. So extended a correspondence must necessarily contain much that is of no interest to the great public ; letters addressed to different individuals on the same subject arc also liable to frequent repetitions which require skillful excision ; allusions arc made to events and circumstances which, in order to be understood, must be explained in notes ; and, not unfrequently, the elucidation of the text calls for the publication of documents and letters which can be obtained only by a journey to the capitol, or, perhaps, to Holland, France, or Great Britain. The task of the editor could not, therefore, be well performed without the most diligent research and an intimate acquaintance with the whole field of American history. Fortunately the duty of preparing this great work for the press devolved on one who was every way qualified for the high and im- portant trust, and who spared neither time nor labor in making it complete. Mr. Sparks did not content himself with the very ample materials placed in his hands by the family of the deceased : he traveled over the United States and Europe, and examined the historical collections, both public and private, of all those countries which had particular connections with America during the eventful period of Washington's career, and brought together from these 40 Writi?igs of Washington. [January, various stores the additional documents necessary to the completion of his task. By this patient course of study and the examination of libraries and records ; by researches in the archives of the original colonies, the general government, and the distant states of Europe ; by a careful preparation of charts, maps, and other means of illustration ; by copious and well-digested notes, and a great collection of materials in the form of an appendix to each volume, Mr. Sparks has not only demonstrated his own fitness for the difficult trust re- posed in him, but has succeeded in giving to the world twelve vol- umes of authentic history, the value of which cannot be estimated, but which, as we recede from the field of incidents which they chronicle, must continue to advance in public estimation while greatness has admirers and virtue has votaries. Every ray of new light which has been shed on the character of Washington has given it additional lustre ; and no repetition will ever make it a wearisome subject to him who admires virtue or loves the free institutions of America. In the annals of human greatness he stands alone. The world has decided that there never was but one Washington. And yet his greatness arises not from those lofty intellectual endowments which constitute the chief glory of others. He was neither a Napoleon in war ; nor a Bacon in philosophy ; nor a Henry in eloquence. His greatness was the greatness of moral purity, and resulted from that singleness of purpose with which he devoted the naturally vigorous powers of his mind to the glory of his country and the good of mankind. Washington was exactly suited to the important place which he was called to fill in the great events transpiring in the new world. The revolution in which he acted so conspicuous a part was not undertaken in the spirit of reform. The colonies professed to the last their attachment to the mother country, and claimed to be satisfied with the forms of that government under which they lived, and took up arms only to resist what they deemed unlawful encroachments of power. "We sincerely approve," say s the first Vir- ginia convention, " of a constitutional connection with Great Britain, and wish most ardently a return of that intercourse and affection that formerly united both countries." The congress of 1775 also declare that " we mean not to dissolve the union which has so long and so happily subsisted between us, and which we sincerely wish to see restored." It was not then on account of any dissatisfaction with the form of the English constitution that the colonies took up arms : but to resist an unlawful exercise of power under that con- stitution. When, however, it became necessary in the course of 1842.] Writings of Washington. 41 events to dissolve their connection with the crown, the name of Washington was not associated with that conservative influence which would have retained the king, lords, and parliament of the mother country, and perpetuated the feudal aristocracy of Europe on the soil of the new world. On the other hand, the revolution, although not undertaken in the spirit of reform, proved to be a most important link in the great chain of human progress, and the basis of a reformation a thousand times more important than the mere severance of the colonies from Great Britain. But Washington entered not fully into the spirit of this reform. Its great leader was Mr. Jefferson. Washington was, therefore, neither a conservative nor a reformer. He stood between the old and the new era, keeping exactly up to the line of public opinion, and holding the balance even between all the con- tending influences which were at work about him and staying their extremes. He never, however, acted a weak or undecided part ; but prompt, energetic, strong, and standing aloof from all parties and all ultra measures, he swayed an influence which no other man in this country has ever commanded. The American revolution was, doubtless, the most important event in the history of the world since the triumph of the parliament under the reign of Charles the First. One event, however, always makes room for another, and the steps by which the people have gradually been enlarged from the vassalage of the feudal ages, although they cannot be traced in this brief article, are distinctly marked in the world's history. The fondness of Henry VIH. for beauty and divorces led him to break with the Church of Rome and place himself at the head of a separate establishment. The efforts of Luther had prepared the way for this usm-pation, and it was, therefore, easily accomplished ; but the impulse which the selfish king had thus given to the public mind by releasing it from the powerful superstitions which had so long held it in chains, carried the people forward beyond his wishes. They broke from the old establishment, but they stopped not at the new. Catholics not only became Protestants, but Protestants became Puritans. Having thus burst the thraldom of superstition, and commenced the exercise of their freedom in the pursuits of an miauthorized religion, the royal authority poured out upon the new sects all the vials of its wrath. Persecuted and despised by those in power, they naturally placed themselves in opposition to the government ; like the children of Israel, they increased under their burdens ; obtained the majority in parliament ; asserted their rights more boldly ; 42 Writings of Washington, [January, thwarted the tyrannical measures of the first Charles ; and finally brought his head to the block. While these events were resulting in the enlargement of civil liberty at home, a portion of these Puritans, who had fled from the fierceness of their persecutions to the distant wilds of America, laid the foundations of that great empire of liberty which has since spread its banners to the sun through the richest portion of this vast continent. The colonies thus planted were long of too little importance to attract much notice from the distant sovereign, and grew up to their majority in the atmosphere of their enlarged liberty, and when, at length, it was discovered that they were advancing rapidly to wealth and greatness, and were soon to constitute the brightest jewel in the British crown, their freedom had obtained too firm a basis to be easily shaken. But at length there arose a king who " knew not Joseph ;" and neither British charters, sealed with the king's signet, nor the plainest principles of justice could screen them from the grasp of royal power. At such a crisis Washington was not the man to hesitate. He was a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses when the question of taxation was suggested in parliament, and acted with the friends of America from the first. Notwithstanding his great moderation he was never the advocate of half-way measures. His convictions were strong ; his conduct was decided. " If," he says, in a letter to Bryan Fairfax, " I were in any doubt as to the right of parliament to tax us without our consent, I should most heartily coincide with you that to petition, and petition only, is the proper method to apply for relief; but I have no such doubt. I think the parHament have no more right to put their hands into my pocket without my consent than I have to put my hands into yours." With these strong convictions that the colonies were in the right, and with a mind incapable of acting otherwise than in accordance with its own deliberate decisions, he entered the contest. His position, as a gentleman of wealth and intelligence, together with his services in the late war with France, necessarily made him prominent, and his strong masculine understanding soon gave a weight to his name second to none. Even in the first congress his character was so fully developed as to draw from the celebrated Patrick Henry an expression of opinion that for " solid information and sound judgment Colonel Wasliington was unquestionably the greatest man" in that distinguished body. Nor was this opinion by any means singular. At the commencement of the following congress in 1775, such was the estimation in which he was held that he was not only on all the important committees for defense, 1842.] Wntings of Washington. 43 but was also placed at the head of each, and when, in the course of its deliberations, it resolved to raise an army and appoint a com- mander-in-chief, he was immediately designated for this last im- portant office. Mr. John Adams, of Massachusetts, was the first publicly to suggest his name, and when it was thus announced he retired with characteristic modesty from his seat. The motion for his appointment was, however, brought forward by Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland, and when the vote was taken it was found to be unanimous. When, on the following day, the result was announced to him by the speaker, he signified his acceptance in a brief speech, full of diffidence and unpretending good sense, in which he manifested a thorough knowledge of the responsibilities which he was about to assume. He at once declined the pay of five hundred dollars a month Vhich had been voted to him by the congress, declaring that as no pecuniary considerations could have tempted him to accept so arduous an employment at the expense of his domestic ease and happiness, so he did not desire to make any profit from his office. " I will," said he, " keep an exact account of my expenses : these I doubt not congress will discharge, and that is all I desire." In a letter to his wife, wTitten immediately after his appointment, he says, " I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid this appointment, not only from my unwillingness to part from you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity. But as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose ; and I shall rely, there- fore, confidently on the Providence which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me." A few days afterward he wrote again in the same strain : " As I am within a few minutes of leaving this city, I could not think of departing from it without dropping you a line, especially as I do not know whether it will be in my power to write again until I get to the camp at Boston. I go fully trusting in that Providence which has been more bountiful to me than 1 deserve." It was in this spirit that Washington undertook the great business of the revolution. He had been prepared for it by a long course of discipline and services, and was already accustomed to the l)urdens and responsibilities of public life. In his youth, he had traversed, as a surveyor, the wild tracts, woodlands, and mountains in the uninhabited portion of Virginia, and had been exposed to hardships and dangers which few men at his age are called to encounter. When he had scarcely reached his majority he was 44 Writings of Washington. [Jamiaxy, commissioned by Governor Dinwiddle to make a journey through the wilderness to the borders of Lake Erie in order to get an insight into the designs of the French, then about to commence hostilities ; a service which occupied him eleven weeks, during which time he encamped in the woods, making his way on horse- back and on foot, with sometimes only a single attendant, and surmounting hardships and difficulties which would have discou- raged any but the most resolute and determined mind. At the ago of twenty- two he was, by the death of Colonel Fry, placed at the head of the Virginia troops and conducted the first campaign against the French, in which his good conduct won him great applause. He subsequently volunteered to accompany General Braddock as aid-de-camp in his disastrous campaign, and, contrary to his wishes, gathered laurels from the defeat and ruin of others. in the battle of the Monongahela he behaved with the greatest coolness and courage. Every other mounted officer had been disabled, and the duty of distributing the general's orders conse- quently devolved on him alone. He rode in every direction ; animated the drooping spirits of the soldiers by his example ; exposed his person in the hottest of the fight ; and was a con- spicuous mark for the sharp-shooters of his savage foe. But in the midst of all these dangers he was graciously preserved for that more important theatre of action on which he afterward entered. " By the all-powerful dispensations of Providence," he writes to liis brother, " I have been protected beyond all human probability or expectation ; for I had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under me ; yet I escaped unhurt, although death was leveling my companions on every side of me." The coolness and intrepidity which Washington manifested on this occasion, and the skill with which he conducted the retreat after the fall of General Braddock, attracted toward him the par- ticular attention of the people of Virginia, and secured to him that high military reputation without which he could not have been (devatcd to the command of the American armies. There were, however, other considerations which weighed with congress. Vir- ginia was powerful in wealth and population, strong in patriotism and intellect, and had taken an early and bold stand in resisting the encroachments of British power. It w^as sound policy, there- iore, to select the commander-in-chief from that colony, and hence every interest fortunately concurred in the appointment of this great and good man. But although elevated to a high and honorable office by the unanimous suffirage of the American congress, yet was his position 1842.] Writings of Washington. 45 far from being enviable. It is, perhaps, impossible for us at this day to appreciate the difficulties which surrounded him during the whole period of the revolution. We have now a population of seventeen millions of souls, all ardent in patriotism, and attached by custom, as well as choice, to a government of their own creation, and as thoroughly organized as any on earth. The military de- partment is systematized ; arms, ammunition, and every other species of supplies can be furnished in any quantity at home ; and, in case of war, we have a credit which could not fail to supply the treasury with abundant means. In all these respects our circum- stances are very different from what they were sixty-five years ago. At that time we may be said to have been almost without a govern- ment. The mandates of congress were little more than recom- mendations to the states, which they obeyed or not at pleasure. Our military stores were mostly brought from abroad ; our army was made up of quotas from the different states, enlisted for short periods, and frequently disbanding on the eve of a most important movement ; our exchequer was empty ; our credit gone ; and our population, which then amounted to no more than one-sixth its present number, was divided by the civil war into two parties, one of which rendered every possible assistance to the enemy, and, in some parts, proved even a greater annoyance than the presence of the foreign invader. We are too apt to look back on the revolution as a unanimous movement of the people, and to regard all who were engaged in those trying scenes as the friends of liberty and America. This, however, was far from the fact. Marshall informs us that in 1775, immediately after the battle of Lexington, a company of Connec- ticut troops were required in New-York to sustain the whigs against their tory adversaries. In the same year New- York is known to have furnished large and important supplies to the British army. At the arrival of General Howe in 1776, large crowds of devoted royalists assembled on the shore to receive him, renewed their oaths of fidelity to the crown, and many took up arms and joined his standard. In New- Jersey great numbers of troops were enlisted on the part of the king, and it is thought that in both New-Jersey and New-York the number that joined the royal standard was quite equal to that which enlisted in the army of the republic. In the two Carolinas royal regiments were raised in 1776 and 1779, consisting of more than two thousand troops. Even the person of Washington was far from being secure against tory zeal, and, in one instance at least, a conspiracy was formed to deliver him up to the English, in vi^hich some of his own guard participated. Indeed, 46 Writings of Washington. [January, so great was the disaffection of the people at one time that it threatened the most serious consequences, and caused even Washington to speak somewhat doublingly of the resuh. While flying through the Jerseys, deserted by his own troops, who were marching off by regiments, and closely pursued by his powerful and victorious foe, he writes to his brother thus : — " We are in a very disaffected part of the province, and, between you and me, I think our affairs are in a very bad condition : not so much from the apprehension of General Howe's army as from the defection of New-York, the Jerseys, and Pennsylvania. In short, the con- duct of the Jerseys has been most infamous. Instead of turning out to defend their country, and affording aid to our army, they are making their submission as fast as they can. If they had given us any support we might have made a stand at Hackensack, and after that at Brunswick ; but the few militia that were in arms disbanded themselves, and left the poor remains of our army to make the best we could of it." " In a word, my dear sir, if every nerve is not strained to recruit the new army with all possible expedition, I think the game is pretty nearly up, owing, in a great measure, to the insidious arts of the enemy and disaffection of the colonies before mentioned, but principally to the ruinous policy of short enlistments, and placing too great a dependence on the militia." The dependence placed on the militia of the several states, and the system of short enlistments, which had been adopted by con- gress, arose from the extreme jealousy which the people entertained of a standing army. They were not more disposed to submit their necks to the yoke of a military despotism than they were to that of the British king. We must be permitted to respect the feeling which thus led them to guard their dearest interests, but we cannot, at the same time, fail to regret a caution which, it is now apparent, was ill-judged, and which was the cause of some of the most serious embarrassments that Washington was called to encounter. He opposed it with all his strength, and finally so far overcame the scruples of congress as to induce them to adopt, in part, his views. " Can any thing," he writes to the president of that body, "be more destructive to the recruiting service than giving ten dollars bounty for six weeks service of the militia who come in, you cannot tell how ; go, you cannot tell when ; and act, you cannot tell where ; consume yovir provisions, exhaust your stores, and leave you at last at a critical moment ?" To add to the embarrassments occasioned by this legalized de- sertion, the condition of the soldiers was often most afflicting. Few armies have ever been called to suffer what the army of our 1842.] Writings of Washington. 47 revolution passed through in achieving the independence of America. " I beheve, or at least hope," says Washington in a letter to Bryan Fairfax before the great drama was opened, " that we have virtue enough left among us to deny ourselves every thing but the bare necessaries of life." It was a noble, a sublime faith, and deserved the rich rewards with which it was destined to be crowned. The result proved that it was a faith which had not been misplaced : amidst all their sufferings, the majority of the people continued firm to the last. Not only did they often want the common necessaries of life, but even the means of subsistence and the ordinary clothing necessary to preserve them against the cold and storms of a northei-n winter. During the winter of 1777-8, while the army was at Valley Forge, in Pennsylvania, its sufferings were past description. Large numbers were not only destitute of shoes but also of blankets, and instead of reposing themselves on com- fortable beds, were obliged to sit up all night by camp fires to keep from freezing. " We have," says Washington in one of his letters, " by a field return this day made no less than two thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight men, now in camp, unfit for duty, be- cause they are barefoot and otherwise naked." " Tlie soap, vinegar, and other articles allowed by congress, we see none of, nor have we seen them, I believe, since the battle of Brandy wine. The first, indeed, we have now little occasion for ; few men having more than one shirt, many only the moity of one, and some none at all." " For some days there has been little less than a famine in camp. A part of the army have been a week without any kind of flesh, and the rest three or four days. The soldiers are naked and starving." What aggravated the distress of the commander-in-chief was the fact, that he could not make his true situation known, and that in the midst of his weakness he was obliged to appear strong lest he should invite the advances of his enemy. He Avas, therefore, ex- posed to censure for his inactivity without being able to vindicate himself, and even blamed for going into winter quarters, although his force was inadequate to any effective service, and the weather exceedingly severe. In speaking of the remonstrance of the Pennsylvania legislature against his retiring to Valley Forge, ho tims feelingly alludes to his situation : — " I can assure those gen- tlemen that it is a much easier and less distressing tiling to draw remonstrances in a comfortable room by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the naked and distressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly 48 Wi-itings of Washington. [January, for them, and from my soul I pity those miseries which it is neither in my power to relieve or prevent." In the midst of his difficulties his only relief was to address himself to congress : but that body was able to afford him but little succor. Its own powers were too feeble to command respect. Its mandates were disregarded ; its requisitions on the states were seldom fully answered. With a bankrupt treasury, a ruined com- merce, a depreciated currency, and resources that were every- where exhausted, the most that it could do was to issue new sup- plications to the states, and clothe the commander-in-chief with new powers. In this way the war dragged on. Congress was firm ; Washington faltered not in the midst of all his trials. He rose with the occasion which called forth his exertions, and was never so great as when surrounded by ruin. His letters throughout breathe the same determined spirit, and are mostly marked with an unshaken confidence in the result. "I do not believe," he says, " that Providence has done so much for nothing." Again, " The great Governor of the universe has led us too long and too far on the road to happiness and glory to forsake us in the midst of it." When asked what he would do if Philadelphia should be taken, he replied : — " We will retreat beyond the Susquehanna river ; and thence, if necessary, to the Alleghany mountains." The American army was many times subdued, but the spirit of such a man could not be conquered. When his army was dwindled to a handful, and Lord Cornwallis was about sailing for England with the tidings of its dispersion, he suddenly turned on his pursuers, crossed the Delaware in the face of a keen wintry wind, accom- panied with snow and sleet, and while large cakes of ice were float- ing fearfully down the current ; and, by a master stroke of daring and generalship, won a decided victory, which retrieved his sinking fortunes and restored the confidence of his countrymen. Much has been said of the merits of Washington as a military commander, and some have assigned him the very highest, and others only a moderately advanced position among the heroes of the world. We are persuaded that in neither of these extremes is his true position to be found. Washington possessed a strong, masculine understanding ; a steady, unwavering courage ; and the greatest firmness of purpose. But his genius was inferior to that of Napoleon, Hannibal, Cesar, or Cromwell. His mind acted slowly, and although his judgment, when once formed, was sound beyond that of his most distinguished compeers, yet it was not the intuitive sense of a commanding genius, and always derived aid from a consultation with others. His battles were, therefore, 1 842.] XVriti?igs of Wasliington. 49 planned with skill and ability, but an unexpected event — a move- ment of the enemy which had not been foreseen — an accident whicii interfered with his original plan, was veiy apt to derange his whole operations and decide the fate of the day against him. Such un- looked-for occurrences occasioned his losses at Long Island, at Brandywine, at Germantown. But his prudence and skillful arrangements saved him in all these cases from total defeat. It was not thus however with the great captains whom we have named . The towering genius of Napoleon, for instance, enabled him to meet, at the fortunate moment, any untoward obstacle or to grasp any un- expected advantage. Brougham justly observes, that it was his glory never to let an error pass unprofited by himself, nor to give liis adversary an advantage which he could not ravish from him with ample interest before it was turned to any fatal account. He possessed an intuitive perception of his enemy's position, strength, and motions, and an accurate knowledge of all that battalions could perform. His generals yielded to his decisions as to a master mind, never doubting, even for a moment, his superior skill, and regarding his knowledge as little short of inspiration. .,/ It would be in vain to claim for Washington a genius so tran- scendent. But if he was inferior to Napoleon in this, the highest endowment of the mere warrior, he was far superior to him in wisdom. Macauley quaintly observes, that "the French emperor is among conquerors what Voltaire is among writers, a miraculous child. His splendid genius was frequently clouded by fits of humor as absurdly perverse as those of the pet of the nursery, who quarrels with his food and dashes his playthings to pieces." Washington, on the other hand, was what the same writer says of Cromwell, " emphatically a man." He was never elated by suc- cess ; never intoxicated by victory. He had a manly strength of un- derstanding ; a steadiness of mind which allowed neither flattery nor passion to move him from the fixed purpose of his soul. He had nothing in common with that class of great men whose conduct attracts attention in lower posts, but who exhibit their incapacity as soon as they are called to take the lead : but his truly great mind, neither seeking honors nor shunning responsibilities, reposed in placid dignity in the loftiest stations, expanding without effort to fill the vaster sphere of his duties. ' As a mere warrior, then, his place was in the second rank. But as the champion of liberty ; as the defender of the rights of man ; as a hero, whose sword was drawn only for the good of his fellows, he knew no equal. His natural endowments, too, were great. His courage, whether in council or in battle, was of the 50 Writings of Washington. [January, most perfect kind. It may be said, indeed, that he knew no fear. "What I admire in Christopher Cohimbus," says Tm-got, "is, not his having discovered the new world, but his having gone to search for it on the faith of an opinion." Washington acted on the " faith of an opinion." Whatever he beUeved to be for the good of the state ; for the advancement of the condition of his fellows ; in short,- whatever he conceived to be right, he pursued without regard to personal consequences. He had, besides, a hardy, athletic frame, an iron constitution, and a mind well adapted to the details of camp movements. If he could not, like Napoleon, remember the exact position of each company, each battalion, each gun, his papers were kept with that precision, and his business con- ducted with that order, which gave him an advantage almost as com- manding. He, also, often displayed the highest qualities of a great military captain. There are few achievements in the annals of military warfare more brilliant than the passage of the Delaware, and the surprise of the enemy at Trenton, or the attack at Princeton a few hours afterward. They were both conceived in the highest spirit of military enterprise, exhibiting a mind of no ordinary capacity, and rendered doubly brilliant both by the depressing circumstances of the republican army and the happy influence which they exercised on the fortunes of America. His closing victory at Yorktown was in the more ordinary routine of military operations, but was a glorious termination to his warlike career. We are not quite sure that we have done our great countryman justice in this comparison. It certainly should not be forgotten that he was at the head of a small, ill-provided army, operating over an immense space, and that his highest ambition was not to distinguish himself as a warrior. It is not, therefore, possible to pronounce with certainty what he might have been under other circumstances. From the time that he accepted the post of com- mander-in-chief he had in view one great object, the emancipation of his country ; and from the first he felt that the stake was of too much importance to be put in jeopardy by any great attention to his own reputation. The leading principle of his revolutionary career was success — the success of his country, not of himself. In planning his battles he was, therefore, always particular not to risk the state — not to put himself in a position which might enable the enemy, by one bold and fortunate stroke, to put an end to American liberty. He acted, therefore, under a constant restraint, a restraint salutary to his country, but, doubtless, prejudicial to himself. " I know," he says, in a letter to Joseph Reed, " the unhappy predicament I stand in : I know that much is expected 1842.] Writings of Washington. 51 of me : I know that without men, without arms, without ammuni- tion, without any thing fit for the accommodation of a soldier, httle is to be done : and, what is mortifying, I know that I cannot stand justified to the world without exposing my own weakness and injuring the cause, which I am determined not to do.'''' " My own situation is so irksome to me at times that, if I did not consult the public good more than my own tranquility'', I should, long ere this, have put every thing on the cast of a die." There is an incident, resting on the authority of Colonel Picker- ing, and connected with what is commonly called Conway's cabal, which finely illustrates this self-sacrificing principle in the cha- racter of Washington. From the close of the disastrous campaign of 1776 there were in various circles whispers unfavorable to the military reputation of the commander-in-chief, which, after the battle of Germantown, began to assume a more open front. It afterward appeared that they were circulated by the agency of General Conway and a few others, with the apparent object of destroying Washington, and of elevating General Gates on the ruins of his reputation and fortunes. It is said that he was already aware of these designs, although he took no pains to counteract them. While his enemies were thus plotting his destruction, and laying their plans to secure the elevation of Gates, who might now be regarded, in some sense, as his rival, rumors floated from the north that the whole of Burgoyne's army had surrendered them- selves prisoners of war. Should this prove true it might naturally be supposed that the friends of the victorious general would push their schemes to a successful issue, and that the star of Washing- ton, dimmed by the transcendent lustre of his rival, might sink to rise no more. For some time this vague report was unconfirmed, but at length a horseman, covered with dust and mud, rode up to Washington's quarters. Colonel Pickering was with him at the time, and was sent out to receive the dispatches. The commander- in-chief hastily broke the seal of the package and glanced over the contents. It was the official announcement of the first great victory won by the arms of the young republic over its powerful foe. Burgoyne had indeed fallen. As Washington continued to read his hand trembled — the color forsook his cheek — the paper fell to the floor — his lips moved — the silent tear found its way down his care-worn cheek, and, with his hands clasped, and his eyes raised to heaven, he remained for some time in an attitude of thanksgiving for so mighty a deliverance. " I then saw," said Colonel Pickering, " how much superior, in the mind of this great man, was the love of his country to all selfish feelings." 52 Writings of Washington. [January, The independence of America having been at length achieved, Washington retired to his estate at Mount Vernon loaded with honors, and carrying v^^ith him the affections of a grateful people. He had left his favorite residence early in the year 1775 to attend the meeting of the second congress at Philadelphia, since virhich time he had visited it casually but once on his way to Yorktown in 1781 ; and yet it was the home of his dehght — the scene for which his heart ardently panted in the midst of his cares, and toward which he anxiously looked as the place at which he was to repose his weary frame after his long and toilsome journey. At length, however, he found his long-coveted retirement. "The scene," he writes, " is at last closed. I feel myself eased of a load of public care, and hope to spend the remainder of my days in cultivating the affections of good men and in the practice of the domestic virtues." In a letter to Lafayette he recurs to the subject in still more touching language : " On the twenty-third of De- cember," he says, " I presented congress my commission, and having made them my last bow, entered these doors on the eve of Christmas an older man by near nine years than when I left them." " I have not only retired from all public employments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary walk and tread the paths of private life with heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all ; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life until I sleep with my fathers." The affection between this excellent young nobleman and the ^rave and thoughtful Washington is a subject on which we always delight to dwell. The youth, fired with a lofty enthusiasm in the cause of America, had forsaken his princely estate, the wife of his bosom, the exalted station to which he was born, and in the gloomiest period of the war, when our army was supposed to be flying before a triumphant foe, and our government had not even the scanty means to provide him with a passage across the ocean, fitted out a vessel at his own expense, and, before he had reached his twentieth year, offered himself as a volunteer in the American army, and, having been invested by congress with the commission of a major-general, was quartered in the family of the commander- in-chief. Washington soon contracted for him an ardent and sin- cere attachment, to which the bosom of the young nobleman responded with filial tenderness. The gay and chivalrous French- man was always singularly agreeable to the grave and care-worn general, and their intimacy ripened into a steady affection, which was sundered only by death. It is a pleasing incident of the 1842.] Writings of Washington. 53 revolution to which the genius of Edward Everett has paid a just and beautiful tribute, that "by the side of Washington, from his broad plantations ; of Greene, from his forge ; of Stark, from his almost pathless forests and granite hills ; of Putnam, from his humble farm," there should be a place at the war-council for a young nobleman from the gay court of Versailles. But strange as was the compound, it was cemented by the cause, and republican America cherishes the name of her Lafayette, and places it in the galaxy of her noblest sons by the side of Washington, Franklin, Adams, Hamilton, Jefferson, Madison, Jay, Henry, Mason, Greene, Knox, Morris, Pinckney, Clinton, and Rutledge. Toward the end of 1784 Lafayette, having returned to America at the pressing instance of Washington and his revolutionary com- panions, visited Mount Vernon and renewed his personal inter- course with his paternal friend. The meeting was one of great tenderness, and the separation seems to have made a deep impres- sion on the mind of Washington, who accompanied his young friend on his way as far as Annapolis, when they parted to meet no more in this world. On reaching his home, Washington wrote to him in a manner which showed the strength of those ties by which the two warriors were bound together. " In the moment of our separation," he says, "upon the road as I traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that love, respect, and attachment for you, with which length of years, close connection, and your great merits have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our carriages sepa- rated, whether that was the last sight I should ever have of you : and though I wished to say no, my fears answered yes. I called to mind the days of my youth and found they had long since fled to return no more ; that I was now descending the hill which I had been fifty-two years in climbing ; and that, though I was blessed with a good constitution, I was of a short-lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed in the mansion of my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades, gave a gloom to the picture, and clouded the prospect of seeing you again. But I will not repine ; I have had my day." This is not only the language of affection, but also of retirement ; of one whose heart, divested of public cares, delights to revive the images of the past and dwell on its cherished friendships. Washing- ton sincerely loved his quiet and elegant retreat, as well as the pursuits of a country life. " The life of a husbandman," he says, "of all others, is the most delightful. It is honorable, it is amusing, and, with judicious management, it is profitable." But the shades of Mount Vernon were rendered still more dear to him Vol. II.— 4 54 W7-itings of Washington. [January, since the close of his arduous pubhc duties, both because they afforded him the repose toward which he had so long looked with a wishful eye, and because the attraction of his great name filled the noble halls of his country mansion with the great, the wise, and the good ; the sharers of his renown ; the companions of his toil. But the revolution was, as yet, but half accomplished. The glaring defects of the confederation, which had been sufficiently embarrassing during our protracted struggle with Great Britain, now that the strong motive for union, presented by the common danger, was removed, became gtill more obvious, and the country, from one extreme to the other, was greatly suffering for the want of a more efficient form of government. Washington, although devoted to his retirement, was not so occupied by his farms as to lose sight of his country. He had long been sensible of the great defects in the articles of confederation, and had, from his retreat, watched, with the eye of a father, the workings of that systeni which was to govern this great family of republics ; and he saw, with the deepest concern, that a remedy must soon be provided or the blood of the revolution had been spilled in vain. His letters disclose the ardent feelings of his patriotic heart, and breathe forth his sorrow and mortification at so unwelcome a discovery. " It was but the other day," he writes, " that we were shedding our blood to obtain the constitutions under which we live, and now we are unsheathing the sword to overturn them." In another letter he observes, " I think often of our situation and view it with concern." And again, " From the high ground we stood upon, to be so fallen, so lost, is really mortifying." In a letter to Mr. Jay he advocates a more liberal grant of powers to congress, and adds : " Requisi- tions are now little better than a jest and a by-word throughout the land. If you tell the legislatures they have violated the treaty of peace, and invaded the prerogatives of the confederacy, they will laugh you in the face. What, then, is to be done ? Things cannot go on in the same train for ever. It is much to be feared, as you observe, that the better kind of people, being disgusted with these circumstances, will have their minds prepared for any revolution whatever. We are apt to run from one extreme to another. To anticipate, and prevent disastrous contingences, would be the part of wisdom and patriotism. What astonishing changes a few years are capable of producing ! I am told that even respectable cha- racters speak of a monarchical form of government without horror. From thinking proceeds speaking ; thence to acting is often btit a single step. What a triumph for our enemies to verify their pre- 1842.] Writings of Washington. 55 dictions ! What a triumph for the advocates of despotism, to find that we are incapable of governing ourselves ! and that systems founded on the basis of equal liberty are merely ideal and falla- cious ! Would to God that wise measures may be taken in time to avert the consequences we have too much reason to appre- hend !" Fortunately for the great experiment of self-government, the " wise measures," so ardently looked to by the father of his COUNTRY, were taken in time to save the republic. The conven- tion, which was called at Philadelphia in 1787, framed that glorious constitution under which w^e have, for more than fifty years, gone on triumphantly in the path of human progress prospering and to prosper, and proving that " systems, founded on the basis of equal liberty," are neither ideal nor fallacious. On the adoption of this constitution, the people unanimously called Washington from his loved retirement to preside in the chair of state and set in motion the wheels of the new government. Loth to abandon the quiet and peaceful pursuits which he had chosen, and especially to forsake his delightful abode on the banks of the Potomac, but still more loth to disobey the call of his country, he yielded to the popular will, and repaired to New-York to mingle again in the stormy scenes of public life. In his private journal his feelings on this occasion are thus chronicled : " About ten o'clock, I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic felicity, and with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensa- tions than I have words to express, set out for New-York with the best disposition to render service to my country, in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering its expectations." It was with good reason that Washington was anxious about the task on which he was entering. The throes which accompanied the birth of the constitution had deeply agitated the people, and already the germs of those two great parties which afterward divided the country had begun to make their appearance. The conflict of the revolution, and the looseness, not to say anarchy, which prevailed under the old confederation, had developed two distinct tendencies — one toward aristocracy, and the other toward democracy. These two tendencies were strongly manifested in the convention which framed the constitution, and that instrument ■w^as the result of a compromise between them. " I consent to this constitution," said Dr. Franklin, " because I expect no better, and because I am not sure it is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors I sacrifice to the public good." " There are some things in the new form," writes Washington, " which never did, 56 Writi7igs of Washington. [January, and, I am persuaded, never will obtain my cordial approbation ; but I did then conceive, and do now most firmly believe that, in the aggregate, it is the best constitution that can be obtained at this epoch ; and that this or a dissolution awaits our choice." "No man in the United States, I suppose," says Jefferson, "ap- proved of every tittle of the constitution, and no one, I believe, approved more of it than I did." But although the constitution was thus, in the main, satisfactory ; and was finally adopted by eleven out of the thirteen states, yet the opinions which had prevailed in the convention were not forgotten, and the people were prepared to look with suspicion on the manner m which it should be construed by the administration. The debates on its adoption in the local conventions proved, besides, exceed- ingly stormy, and two distinct parties were formed, one in favor and one against the constitution ; the former being called the federal party, and the latter the anti-federal. In this agitated state of society, Washington, without ambition ; strong in the affections of the people ; and with a single eye to the good of his country, commenced the difficult task of organizing the new government. Mr. Jefferson, who had been a conspicuous leader in the revolution, who had succeeded Dr. Franklin as minister at the court of Ver- sailles, and whose splendid talents and great experience in public affairs eminently qualified him for the station, was placed at the head of the department of state ; Mr. Hamilton, who had been an officer in the army, and was also possessed of great abilities, integ- rity, and patriotism, was placed at the head of the treasury ; and General Knox, who had been in the war department under the confederation, was continued in his office. When the constitution was adopted Mr. Jefferson was in France, and took no part in the discussions either for or against it. Colonel Hamilton, on the other hand, had been a member of the convention, and was known to have advocated a larger grant of powers to the general government. On coming into the treasury department he made his celebrated report on the subject of the finances, in which he recommended the funding system, the assumption of the state debts, and the establishment of a national bank. The opinions which he had advocated in the convention were immediately associated with these measures, and those who were jealous of the central government thought they saw in his financial plans a strong tendency to increase its powers, and to mold it after the British model. The debates were consequently long and stormy, and men began to aggregate, as if by elective attraction, into distinct parties. Those who sustained the measures of the trea- 1842.] Writings of Washington. 57 sury, and were thus understood to favor a strong federal govern- ment, were called federalists, and those who were for reserving the largest possible share of power to the people and the states, and for withholding it from the general government, were called democrats. Mr. Hamilton was soon the acknowledged head of the former, and Mr. Jefferson of the latter. Washington was greatly perplexed. He had never made political science his stud}'^, and as the debates advanced, and arguments poured vipon him from the national forum against the proposed measures, his embarrassments increased, and for a time he was undecided. He had, however, great confidence both in the wisdom and virtue of Hamilton, and, on the whole, his judgment inclined him to favor the new financial schemes. His deliberation was calm and uninfluenced by party excitement ; and his mind, settled at length, resumed its wonted firmness. The recommenda- tions of Hamilton passed both houses by small majorities and received the immediate sanction of the president. The wisdom of these measures is, to this day, a matter of difference between politicians : but whatever may have been their ultimate tendency, there can scarcely be a doubt that their immediate effect was salutary. At any rate there was a vast improvement on the loose and shackling proceedings under the confederation. Confidence revived ; agriculture and commerce were stimulated ; activity reappeared in business ; the public credit was restored ; and the country rose rapidly from its depressed condition. The result was, at the time, fortunate for the success of Washington's administra- tion, and, after making a tour through the country, he observes. " Every day's experience of the government seems to confirm its establishment and render it more popular." " Our affairs," says Jefferson, " are proceeding in a train of unparalleled prosperity. This arises from the real improvements of our government ; from the unbounded confidence reposed in it by the people ; their zeal to support it ; and their conviction that a solid union is the best rock of their safety." Washington was re-elected. Both Hamilton and Jefferson, though heading opposite parties, joined in pressing solicitations for him to remain at the head of the government. He yielded once more to the public voice, but it was with an increased reluctance, and only because he was, on every hand, assured that his command- ing influence was now even more necessary than ever to keep steady the ark of government. The political horizon bore a threatening aspect on every side, and the elements were in strange commotion. Besides the plunder of our commerce by Algiers ; a 58 Writings of Washington. [January, vexations Indian war ; dissensions in the cabinet ; and the discon- tents occasioned by a tax on domestic spirits, there was an ominous cloud gathering across the Atlantic — a tremendous revolution had taken place in France. From the first, Washington seems to have had apprehensions of this new-born republic. "If it ends," he wrote in 1789, "as our last accounts predict, that nation will be the most powerful and happy in Europe ; but I fear, though it has gone triumphantly through the first paroxysm, it is not the last it has to encounter before matters are finally settled." His fears proved to be but too well founded. Washington had scarcely entered on his second term when in- telligence arrived that the French republic had declared war against England. He was at Mount Vernon, at a distance from his cabinet, when he heard the news, but he did not fail to see that this event must necessarily produce a serious influence on our foreign relations, and that great care and circumspection would be required to prevent the United States from being embroiled with the contending powers. He, therefore, immediately wrote to Mr. Jefferson, avowing his determination to preserve a strict neutrality, and, on returning to the seat of government, which was now re- moved to Philadelphia, summoned a meeting of the cabinet, and laid the subject before them. They were unanimous in favor of a strict neutrality, and the president immediately issued his pro- clamation " forbidding the citizens of the United States to take part in any hostilities on the seas either with or against the belligerent powers," and " enjoining them to refrain from all acts and proceed- ings inconsistent with the duties of a friendly nation toward those at war." This measure, both in regard to its character and consequences, was one of the most important of Washington's administration. It was the only course which could have saved us from being drawn into the vortex of European wars, and its wisdom is now generally acknowledged. But although it was well received at first, yet as new intelligence arrived and spread like wild-fire through the countiy, an irresistible sympathy was kindled in favor of the French republic, and the democratic party availing themselves of this sudden advantage, used it with tremendous ibrce against the administration. Jefferson had retired from the cabinet, and the president could no longer use his mighty influence to still the murmurings of the people. Hamilton was attacked on eveiy side, and even the long services and lofty character of the president did not shield him from the shafts of party strife. In this state of the public mind came the French minister, Genet, with all the ardor 1842.] Writings of Washington. 59 of a new convert, to add fuel to the flame, and, before his mad career was fairly checked, a new firebrand was thrown into the combustibles in the shape of Jay's Treaty. The predilections of Hamilton for the British constitution were now remembered, and it was said that the administration favored the old enemy of America in preference to republican France. The levees of the president ; his formality and state ; his custom of opening congress by a set speech, after the manner of the British king, were all brought into view and assigned as evidences of his attachment to Great Britain, and as reasons why he extended no sympathy to our former ally and friend. In the midst of this storm of popular wrath Washington swerved neither to the right hand nor to the left. The high moral qualities which he had so often ex- hibited in his brilliant career, shone forth in all their sublimity, and his unparalleled greatness was never exhibited to so much advan- tage. He enforced with a firm hand the neutrality which he had proclaimed ; he placed an immediate check on the high-handed assumptions of Genet ; he confirmed the treaty with England ; and marched an army into Pennsylvania to enforce obedience to the laws. /^ We have said elsewhere that Washington entered not into the spirit of that reformation which he did so much to advance, and of which Jefferson was the soul. His ideas of government were liberal, but they were strict. Both his habits of life and his modes of thinking inclined him to a government of law emanating from the centre, and not from the circumference. But his motives were as pure as the dew of heaven ; his only object the good of his country ; and to this he hesitated not to offer up his own spotless reputation. " In eight years of a turbulent and tempestuous ad- ministration," says Mr. Adams, " Washington had settled upon firm foundations the practical execution of the constitution of the United States. In the midst of the most appalling obstacles, through the bitterest internal dissensions, and the most formidable combinations of foreign antipathies and cabals, he had subdued all opposition to the constitution itself; had averted all dangers of European war ; had redeemed the captive children of his country from Algiers; had reduced by chastisement, and conciliated by kindness the most hostile of the Indian tribes ; had restored tiie credit of the nation and redeemed their reputation of fidelity to the performance of their obligations ; had provided for the total extin- guishment of the public debt ; had settled the Union upon the firm foundation of principle ; and had drawn around his head, for the admiration and emulation of after limes, a brighter blaze of glory 60 Writings of Washington. [January, than had ever encircled the brow of hero or statesman, patriot or sage." Such was the career of Washington. Brilhant as were his achievements in the field, his never-dying fame rests on a foundation firmer, deeper, more abiding than that of a mere military conqueror. It is, indeed, something that he sustained the weight of an almost desperate war — that he led on the armies of his country to final victory — that, by his valor and discretion, assisted and sustained by that bright galaxy of statesmen upon whose memoiy we so much delight to dwell, he secured the independence of these United States. But how do these achievements, great as they are, sink into insignificance before his lofty virtues ; his exact justice ; his unwavering firmness ; his deep devotion to the cause of human rights ; his sublime dependence on Him who " stretched the north over the empty space, and hung the world upon nothing." In another part of our article we have called attention to the astonishing genius of Napoleon. He rushes before the imagination like a meteor blazing through the night. He spurns opposition — he laughs at difficulties — he grasps, as it were, the energies of the world, and moves them to his purposes. Armies rise at his bidding — kings tremble before him — his arm is stretched out in power over half the world. At one time we behold him rushing before his wavering columns through a shower of Austrian grape, and, by one masterly display of heroism, deciding the fate of a great battle — at another, entering France a solitary prisoner from Elba, and without armies, or generals, or exchequers, "overwhelming a dynasty by the power of his name." But, alas ! how our admiration falters when we reflect that these great qualities were prostituted to the purposes of a mean and selfish ambition ! To build himself a name — to found an empire — to aggrandize a family, he subverted the liberty of nations and deluged the world in blood. It was not thus with Washington. The transcendent lustre of his career is tarnished by no spot that can dim its brightness. If he was great in battle, he was still greater in the cabinet, and greatest of all in the quiet retirement of private life. No suspicions rest on his memory — no cruelty marked his career — no success seduced him from the path of duty. His truly great mind arose above all selfish considerations. He drew his sword in defense of human rights, and, when the object was achieved, returned it to its scabbard. He accepted power to establish the liberties of his country, and when the constitution was settled on a firm basis, retired "with the veneration of all parties — of all nations — of all mankind." Not coveting power, but holding it only in trust, when. 1842.] Writings of Washington. 61 with an army at his back, and strong in the affections of the people, he was sohcited to found a kingdom and take the crown, he spurned with contempt the ghttering bauble, and, with character-/ istic modesty, buried the offensive secret in his own bosom. Just, firm, noble — sheathed in an armor of principle, which was alike proof against the seductions of interest and the threats of power, he stood forth in the majesty of his own virtue like a rock in the midst of the ocean ; and when the storm raged and the lightnings of heaven flashed in anger about his head, he cauglit them upon his uplifted sword and conducted them harmless to the earth. His patriotism was no transient feeling — now bursting forth like the flame of a volcano, and now sinking back into night ; but steady as the light of the star that twinkles through the Armament, he maintained to his latest breath his firm position — guiding the steps of that nation which his own sword had made free — " holding the balance even between contending parties — ^pro- moting peace — establishing justice — maintaining law — and, at his death, bequeathing to his heirs the sword which he had worn, w^ith the solemn charge, 'never to take it from the scabbard but in self-defense, or in defense of their country, or their country's freedom.'" /^Such was this great man, who, by the unanimous consent of mankind, has been styled the father of his country. In vain shall we look back through the vista of departed ages for one whose career has left in its track so much glory and so much hap- piness. We love his memory, not because he dazzled us by the coruscations of his genius, but because he was the friend of man — because he founded a nation of freemen — because nations yet un- born will rise up to call liim blessed. y 622 Sketch of Patrick Henry. [October, V. — Patrick Henry. Patrick Henry was a native of Virginia ; and, allliough born of very respectable and well-educated parents, yet, on account of the loose discipline which prevailed in the family, as well as a natural indolence and aversion to study on the part of the child, his early tuition was very much neglected, and his youth was spent in the most listless and enervating idleness. We hear of him wandering, for days together, through the fields and woods ; some- times without any apparent object, and sometimes in the pursuit of game — or, perhaps, stretched on the green bank of some meander- ing stream, watching the ripples and eddies as they whirled along, or angling in its sparkling waters. The same love of idleness followed him into the pursuits of business, where he exchanged the pleasures of hunting and angling for the melodies of the flute and violin, and tales of love and war. With such a disposition it is not surprising that there was a fatality in every thing he undertook. Before he was eighteen he was a broken merchant ; and immediately after, without any visible means of subsistence, without even bestowing a thought on the future, he became .a husband, and soon found himself with a growing family on his hands. By the joint assistance of his father and fatlier-in-law, a small farm was now purchased, and the future Demosthenes of Ame- rica, and hi^ young bride, placed upon it, and fairly launched upon the wide world. Two years served to wind up his career as a farmer, and, selling his land at a sacrifice to disembarrass himself of debt, he vested the remainder in an adventure of goods, and once more 1841.] Sketch of Patrick Henry. 623 tried his fortune in trade. His utter failure in the course of another year left him pennyless, and he sought shelter for his wife and little ones at the house of his father-in-law, who kept a tavern at Hanover Court House. But no misfortune liad power to disturb Mr. Henry's unconquer- able good nature, or to break his spirit. In the midst of all the difficulties which now hedged him in, he hunted and fished as usual. He applied himself with increased ardor to his flute and violin. He indulged his love of romance ; amused himself with history ; became a story teller, and the centre of the social and mirthful circles in the neighborhood. At length the thought occurred to him that he might, perhaps, turn a penny by appearing as a counselor in the courts of justice. He accordingly procured some books, and employed a few weeks in reading law. He was in- dolent, ignorant, awkward in his manners, careless in his dress, and coarse in his whole appearance ; but his modesty and good nature made him friends, and after six weeks of careless reading, together with abundant promises of future improvement, he was admitted, at the age of twenty-four, to the Virginia bar. For the next three or four years Mr. Henry was plunged in the deepest poverty. He seems to have lived almost entirely on his father-in-law, and to have made himself useful about the house, now "waiting on the customers at the bar, and now pursuing his favorite sports, or ravishing his soul with delicious music. Whether he appeared at the courts at all is doubted, and if he did, his prac- tice afforded him nothing like a subsistence. But a brighter day was about to dawn upon his fortunes. The sun of his genius was soon to arise in glory ; and the indolent, obscure, and rustic Henry, hitherto like the uncut diamond, was to appear as the chased and gorgeous brilliant, sparkling with a thousand hues. About the time that Mr. Henry was admitted to the bar, a suit arose in Virginia which elicited very general interest. The Chiu-ch of England was, at that time, the established church of Virginia, and an annual stipend of sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco was provided for the minister of each parish, by law, and assessed on the planters. The price of tobacco had, for many years, stood at sixteen shillings and eight pence per hundred, but in consequence of the short crop of 1755, it suddenly rose to two or three times its former value, and the planters procured the passage of a law, 624 Sketch of Patrick Henry. [October, through the colonial assembly, allowing them to commute all debts due in tobacco, for the price in money which it had hitherto borne. This act was limited to the operations of that year only ; but another short crop occurring in 1758, the same law was re-enacted. The clergy were not long in discovering how greatly they were losers by the operations of this law, and it was attacked from several quarters through the press with great vigor. Rejoinders were of course made, and the excitement became so great that the printers in Virginia refused to lend the disputants the aids of the press. At length the circumstance came to the knowledge of the king, who immediately took sides with the clergy, and because the act of the colonial legislature had not received his assent, declared it null and void. Thus supported, the clergy determined to bring suits for the recovery of their stipends in the specific tobacco, and the first trial was in Hanover county, where Mr. Henry resided. On the question of the validity of the law granting the commuta- tion, the court decided against the planters, and Mr. Lewis, their counsel, informed his clients that the case had, in effect, been de- cided against them, and immediately withdrew from the suit. In this exigency they applied to Mr, Henry to conduct the trial before the jury. It came on in December, 1763, about a month after the decision already alluded to had been made, and Mr. Henry, who had just entered on his twenty-eighth year, appeared in their behalf. The general interest in the suit had collected the people from all parts of the country — the clergy had assembled in great numbers — Mr. Henry's own father sat upon the bench as one of the judges ; and he, engaged in one of the most important suits which had ever agitated the colony, was yet to make his first public speech. Mr. Lyons, the opposing counsel, opened the case very briefly, merely explaining the effect of the decision already made, and closing by a high-wrought eulogy on the clergy. Mr. Henry rose awkwardly, and faltered through a few broken sentences in a man- ner so loose and bungling, that his friends hung their heads in shame, and the clergy exchanged sly looks, and began to smile in anticipation of their triumph. His father looked down, his color came and went, and he seemed desirous to sink through the floor. But young Henry faltered for a few moments only. As he pro- gressed his courage seemed to increase — his mind, warmed by the 1S41.] Sketch of Patrick Henry. 625 subject, began to glow with thoughts rich and abundant — his language settled into an easy and graceful flow — his countenance brightened into beauty — his features were illuminated with the fire of genius which burned within — his attitude became erect and lofty — his action graceful and commanding — his eye sparkled with in- tellectual light — and his diction, as it swelled into higher and more commanding periods, rolled on in all the majesty of the ocean billows. In less than twenty minutes the windows, the benches, the aisles, were filled with a dense crowd, bending forward eagerly to catch the magic tones of his voice, and fearful lest some word should escape unheard. Every sound was hushed; every eye was fixed; every ear was bent. The mockery of the clergy was soon turned to alarm. They listened for a short lime in fixed astonishment, but when the young orator in answer to the eulogy of his opponent turned toward them and poured upon them a torrent of his earnest and withering invective, they fled from the room in apparent terror, sensible that all was lost. The jury were in a maze. They lost sight of both law and evidence, and returned a verdict for the planters against the clergy. The people were equally overcome by the brilliant burst of native eloquence which they had witnessed, and no sooner was the fate of the cause finally sealed, than they seized him at the bar, and in spile of his own exertions, and the cry of " order" from the court, bore him in triumph on their shoulders about the yard. From this moment Mr. Henry became the idol of the- people wherever he was known. He was immediately retained in all the suits similar to that which had just been decided, but none of them ever came to trial. In a year from the following May, he was re- turned to the house of burgesses. He was elected to supply a vacancy occasioned by a resignation, and took his scat about a month before the close of the session for 1765. Society in Vir-> ginia was at this time marked by the same broad distinctions which existed in Europe. Large tracts of land, acquired at the first set- tlement of the country, had been, by the law of entails, perpetuated in certain families, who had arisen in consequence to a degree of opulence, and lived in a style of splendor, little inferior to the nobihty of the old world. The younger members of these families, together with others from the ranks of the people who had arisen 626 Sketch of Patrick Henry. [October, by their talents, constituted a second rank, which had all the pride of the first without their wealth. The great body of the people was composed of the smaller land holders, who looked up to the orders above them with all that deference and respect which is so cha- racteristic a trait in aristocratic countries. These distinctions had, of course, found their way into the legis- lative hall. The house of burgesses, when Mr. Henry entered it, besides the great weight of talent which it possessed, was so in- trenched about with imposing forms as to make it one of the most dignified bodies in the world. The effect of this was altogether in favor of the aristocratic members, to whom it stood instead of talent, and who, in consequence of the great deference paid them by the lower orders in the house, were enabled to sway its pro- ceedings almost at pleasure. Besides, it really possessed great intellectual weight. John Robinson, the speaker, and also trea- surer of the colony, was not only one of the richest men in the commonwealth, but also a man of much ability, and had held his dignified office for twenty-five years. Next to him in rank was Peyton Randolph, the king's attorney-general, a distinguished orator and an eminent lawyer. Then followed a constellation of brilliant intellects — Richard Bland, Edmund Pendleton, Richard Henry Lee, George Wythe, and others. Such was the house, and such its galaxy of statesmen Avhen Mr. Henry, young, inexperienced, with all his rustic simplicity, and fresh from the ranks of the yeomanry, first took his seat. The great question of taxation had just begun to be agitated in the British cabinet ; and at the previous session of the burgesses, some feeble re- monstrances had been drawn up and forwarded to the mother country. It was supposed that the subject would be again called up by the present house, in which case it was expected by Mr. Henry's con- stituents, that he would sustain any measures calculated to defeat the project of stamp duties. But it seems that the leaders of the house wrere not disposed to take any further action on the subject, and Mr. Henry, with that characteristic independence which marked his whole career, after having waited till within three days of the close of the session, introduced a series of resolutions, boldly de- nying the right of England to tax America, and declaring that such taxation had a manifest tendency to destroy both British and Ame- rican freedom. * 1841.] Sketch of Patrick Henry. 627 Mr. Henry had held his seat about three weeks, and was still a stranger to most of the members, when, without consultation with more than two persons, unsupported by the influential mem- bers, and dependent only on his own resources, he thus introduced a measure which looked with a severe scrutiny into the right of taxation, now, for the first time, claimed by the British king. The effect was like the sudden eruption of a volcano. At first an attempt was made to frown it down by a stately array of dignified influence ; but one dash of Mr. Henry's eloquence put an end to this by-play and brought out against him all the power of the house. The debate waxed hotter and hotter, and the young orator nerved himself to the mighty conflict. He wielded a blade of the best- tempered Damascus steel, and dashed into the ranks of veteran statesmen with such steadiness and power as scattered their trained legions to the winds. The contest on the last and boldest resolu- tion, to borrow the strong language of Mr. Jefferson, " was most bloody," but it was finally carried by a single vote. Such is the history of that important measure which moved the whole continent, and gave the first impulse to the ball of the revo- lution. Some idea may be formed of the feeling which prevailed in the house at the time, from the fact that Peyton Randolph, as he passed through the door after the adjournment, exclaimed to a friend, with an oath, " I would have given five hundred guineas for a single vote." The feeling of opposition to British taxation which Mr. Henry had thus aroused, spread, as if on the wings of the wind, from one end of the continent to the other. The spark which he had struck found a Idndred fire in every bosom : the impulse was caught by other colonies ; his resolutions were everywhere adopted with progressive variations ; and a whole people were startled, as if by magic, into an attitude of determined hostility. In New-England, especially, was the outbreak of popular feeling most fearfully strong ; and when, in the following November, the stamp act, ac- cording to Us provisions, was to have gone into effect, its execution had become utterly impracticable. It was during the splendid debate which arose on these resolu- tions that Mr. Henry, while rolling along in one of those sublime strains which characterized his fervid eloquence when imder high excitement, exclaimed with a voice which partook of the lofty 628 Sketch of Patrick Henry. [October, impulses of his soul : — " Cesar had his Brutus — Charles the First had his Cromwell — and George the Third" — he was interrupted by the cry of treason, from the speaker's chair. Treason ! Trea- son ! echoed from every part of the house. The startling cry thrilled like electricity on the nerves of the house, and every eye was turned on the inspired orator. He paused only to command a loftier attitude, a firmer voice, a more determined manner, and fixing his eye of fire on the speaker, he proceeded : — " and George the Third— may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it." The theme of liberty, which had thus drawn out the higher qualities of Mr. Henry's eloquence, now became the theme of the nation. The mother country, forgetful alike of the duties and feelings of a parent, — forgetful of the lessons inculcated by her own past history, and of the fundamental principles of national freedom, • — was bent on reducing her colonies to the most humiliating terms. Aroused at length to the common danger, and drawn together by the common cause, they appointed a general congress of statesmen, to devise means for resisting the encroachments on their liberties, and to this august body, Virginia sent her most distinguished sons. Mr. Henry was of the number, and was now brought in contact with the most enlightened men of the new world. The meeting of this congress formed a new epoch in the history of America. It w^as the leading idea of this great and united re- public. The members had been called together to guard the interests of a rising nation. But how were they to act ? What was to be the course of their measures? What was to be the result of this leagued opposition to the British king ? The awful responsibility which they had assumed seems to have struck them in all its over- whelming force, when the great business of the convention was about to be opened, and it fell, like an incubus, upon their spirits. A deep and solemn pause followed the organization of the house — a pause pregnant with the fate of America — perhaps of the world. Who among this great body of enlightened statesmen is to roll away the stone — to unloose the seals — to break the fetters which have thus manacled this august assemblage ? The task falls upon the plebeian rustic whom we have seen roaming the forests with his gun ; scouring the creeks with his angling rod ; waiting on the customers of an obscure tavern at Hanover. He arose slowly, as 1841.] • Sketch of Patrick Henry. 629 if borne down by the weight of his subject, and, faltering through an impressive exordium, launched forth gradually into a recital of the colonial wrongs. The subject was great, the field was vast ; but Mr. Henry's powers were equal to the occasion. His counte- nance, illuminated by the fire of that genius which burned within, shone with almost superhuman lustre. His eye was steady ; his action noble ; his diction commanding ; his enunciation clear and distinct ; his mind, inspired by the greatness of his subject, glowed with its richest treasures ; and, as he swept proudly forward in his high argument, even that assemblage of mighty intellects were struck with astonishment and awe. He sat down amid murmurs of admiration and applause. The convention was nerved to the point of action ; and as he had been proclaimed the greatest orator of Virginia, he was now admitted to be the first orator in America. On the 20th of May, 1775, after the meeting of the first con- gress, and when the country was almost in open arms, Virginia held her second convention. Hitherto the opposition to the minis- terial measures, in all public bodies, had been respectful, and had looked only to a peaceful adjustment of the questions which divided the two countries. But the quick eye of Mr. Henry had seen that there must be an end to this temporizing policy, and that the spirit of legislation should be made to keep pace with the movements of the public mind. When, therefore, the convention opened with propositions for new, and still more humble petitions, the blood of the patriot warmed in his veins, and he determined to meet these propositions at once and nip them in the bud. In pursuance of this determination, he ofiered a scries of resolutions for arming and equipping the militia of the colony. This measure threw the con- vention into the utmost consternation, and it was hotly opposed from every side, by all the most weighty and influential mem- bers, as rash, precipitate, and desperate. Some of the firmest patriots in the house, and, among the number, several of the most distinguished members of the late congress, brought all the power of their logic, as well as the weight of their influence, against it. Indeed, Mr. Wirt informs us that the shock produced upon the house was so great as to be painful. Under these circumstances most men would have quailed before the storm, and compromised with his opponents by withdrawing Vol. I.— 40 630 Sketch of Patrick Henry. [October, the resolutions. Not so with Mr. Henry. If he had chafed the billows into commotion, they were the element of his glory, and he rode most proudly when the storm beat in its wildest fury. He entered upon the discussion clad in his heaviest armor. His words dropped not from his lips like the dew, but they were poured forth like the mountain torrent, whirling, foaming, sparkling, leaping on, in their deep path of passion, and sweeping away in their course the feeble impediments which had been raised to obstruct his progress. He rolled along as if borne by some mighty and irresistible influence, now " dazzling, burning, striking down," now bursting forth with such rhapsodies of patriotic feehng as set the house in a blaze, and fired their souls for action. It was during this, his most masterly effort, that the fearful alternative of war was first publicly proclaimed. " If," said the inspired statesman, " we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight ! — I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! ! An appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us !" And again — " It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentle- men may cry peace, peace, but there is no peace. The war is actually begun ! the next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? What is it that gentle- men would have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it. Almighty God ! — I know not what course others may take ; but as for me," cried he, with both his arms extended aloft, his brows knit, and every featvire marked with the resolute purpose of his soul, " give me liberty, or give me death." He sat down, but no murmur of applause followed. It was evident that the deep feelings of patriotism were stirred in every breast. " After the trance of a moment," says Mr. Wirt, " several members started from their seats. The cry. To arms, seemed to quiver on every lip and glance from every eye." The resolutions were adopted — the colony was armed — the country was aroused to 40* 1841.] Sketch of Patrick Hennj. 631 more vigorous action, and the next gale that swept from the north, brought, indeed, the clash of resounding arms. Blood had been poured out at Lexington, and the great drama of the revolution was opened, to close only with the freedom and independence of America, Mr. Henry soon after this was appointed commander-in-chief of the Virginia troops, a place which he held, however, only for a short period. He was the first republican governor of his native state, and was elected to that high office for three successive years, when he became ineligible by the constitution. He was subse- quently several times elevated to the same commanding station. He held a prominent place in the public councils during the whole of the war, and, indeed, through the greater part of his hfe. He was a most vigorous opponent of the federal constitution, and had well nigh prevented its adoption by the Virginia convention. The department of state was offered to him by President Washington, and he was appointed minister to France by President Adams, both of which places he declined to accept. He finished his useful and glorious career on the 6th of June, 1799, in the sixty-third year of his age. Mr. Henry was strict in his morals, and pure in his language. It is believed he was never known to take the name of his Maker in vain. He was amiable and modest in his deportment — an affectionate and indulgent parent — an amusing companion, and a faithful friend. During his last illness he said to a friend, stretch- ing out toward him his hand, which contained an open Bible, " Here is a book worth more than all the other books that were ever printed ; yet it is my misfortune never to have found time to read it with the proper attention and feeling, till lately. I trust in the mercy of Heaven that it is not yet too late." As a statesman Mr. Henry wanted that patient industry which no genius can ever fully supply. Bright as was his career, it would have been vastly more glorious but for his unconquerable aversion to laborious study. When his mind was nerved up to its full strength, it seems to have been equal to any effort, however commanding; but when he had given any great enterprise its first im- pulse, his work was done, and he became "weak like another man." He could not bear the toil and drudgery of the great world. His light was that of the meteor which blazes through the darkness, and 632 Critical Notices. [October, not the steady beams of the patient sun. He seems to have grasped his subject by intuition, and when once his stand was taken, there was no hesitation, no doubt, no wavering, but his convictions were settled principles, and he marched forward to his object with as much certainty as though he had worked it out by the rules of mathematics. This prescience gave him a most commanding ad- vantage, and is the great secret of his success. With a modesty which was so great as to be a feature in his character, we behold him giving the first impulse to the revolution, sounding the first battle cry, and leading the first military expedition in Virginia. Had his industry been equal to the powers of his mind, he would have held no second place in the annals of his country. As it was, his career was one of dazzling brilliancy, and he justly ranks among the highest ornaments and noblest benefactors of his country. 1848.] Cromv:eU and the Revolution. 51 Art, III. — History of the English Revolution of 1640, commonly called the Great Rebellion : from the Accession of Charles I. to his Death. By F. Guizot, the Prime Minister of France. New-York: D. Appleton & Co., 200 Broadway. 1846. The Letters and Speeches of Oliver Crotnwell, luith Elucidations. By Thomas Carlyle. New- York : Win. H. Colyer, No. 5 Hague-street. 1846. The Protector: a Vindication. By J. H. Merle D'Aubigne, . D. D. New-York : Robert Carter, 58 Canal-street. 1847. Although two articles, written with distinguished ^^^Biave already appeared in this Review on the subject of Oli^^^rom- well and the revolution with which his name is connecteo^yet, as no portion of English history has been so studiously misrepre- sented, or is of deeper interest to the present generation, it is not, perhaps, presumptuous in the writer to think that the subject is still unexhausted, and will bear to be brought to the attention of the reader again. After the death of Cromwell the reins of government fell back into the hands of the Stuarts, and the task of giving to posterity a record of the events connected with his administration devolved on those who were interested to heap indignity and disgrace on his memory. Hence the stream of history has been polluted, and the character of the Protector comes down to us distorted by the pre- judiced and malicious colorings of Hume and Clarendon. The professed object of the volumes quoted at the head of our article is to correct these errors, and to set Cromwell right before the world. The work of M. Guizot is incomplete, the present volume being only a prelude to the History of the Commonwealth, which is yet to be published. It takes us down only to the death of the king, and breaks off when the story is at the height of its interest. The author has sought out his facts diligently, but he 52 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, has discriminated badly in the choice of his authorities, and has followed too much in the beaten track of English history. He does not appear to have properly understood or appreciated the character of Cromwell. The book of Mr. Carlyle is of a very different character. That original and extraordinary genius has discarded altogether the colorings of prejudiced historians, and, collecting together the letters and speeches of Oliver, has enabled us to judge of him by his own words and acts, without the comments of infidelity or the prejudiced insinuations of royalty. His book completely res- cues the character of Cromwell from the odium which has been attached to it, and awards to him the place in history to which his great abilities and his distinguished services entitle him. It is worthy of the eminent man whose name it bears. The work of D'Aubigne is more unpretending than either of the others, and better calculated for popular use. The author follows in the track which Carlyle marked out before him, and has drawn his facts almost entirely from the work of his industrious prede- cessor. It is written in a neat and flowing style, and cannot be read without producing a strong impression in favor of the Protector. Inde^^^ie character of the work is well described by its title. V Th^^Hlion of English history brought under review in these volu^^Hrossesses a very peculiar interest in this country, and - indeed wherever true liberty is cherished. The great battle be- tween Charles and his subjects — between despotism and freedom — between the dead formulas of an established church and the fundamental essentials of a spiritual religion — was fought for no single generation, for no isolated land ; but its fruits have been particularly abundant and glorious in the broad and beautiful coun- try which we are proud to call our own. Popular liberty was at this time almost quenched in every country in Europe. In the strife between the great barons and the crown, during the earlier days of the feudal system, the people held, as it were, the balance of power, and, being courted by both of the contending parties, grew gradually into consequence, and exercised a large influence in the government. It was during this period that parliaments were established ; and the principle of popular representation was introduced to check the power of the nobles on the one hand, and of the king on the other. But, as the barons lost their power, and sunk quietly under the shadow of the sovereign, the motive for allowing the people to share in the govern- ment was greatly diminished, and the whole power of the state fell into the hands of the sovereign. 1848.] Cromwell mid the Revolution. 53 This retrograde revolution — a revolution in favor of despotism, and adverse to liberty — v^^as, at the period of the Rebellion, accom- plished in all the nations of the continent, and royalty, freed from its ancient trammels, had become weW nigh absolute. The pomp of courts, the lust of conquest, the perpetuation of wars, the dis- continuance of popular assemblies, the passive obedience of the people, all proclaimed the strong preponderance of royal power. England was among the last to yield to these adverse influences. She had, many years before, wrung from King John the Great Charter, and she had continued to maintain a representation in the government through the House of Commons ; but these did not prevent her from ultimately falling into the same current with her continental neighbors ; and every successive reign seemed to gain some new advantage over human rights, till the last remnant of liberty was nearly extinguished. ^ Under the haughty tyranny of the last Henry the royal preroga- tive was scarcely questioned. Parliament was still called together, but it was only the pliant instrument of the king's despotism. The courts of law, the ministers of religion, the haughty nobility, and the obsequious commons, all strove which should be before- hand with the others in ministering to the king's capricious desires. In the height of his arrogance he quarreled with the pope, and caused his parliament to set up an independent religious establish- ment, and to proclaim him "the only supreme head of the Church of England on earth." The Reformation under Luther had pre- pared the way for this daring measure, and a new and powerful element was thus introduced into the state, which was destined to shake the arbitrary power of the throne, and re-establish the rigiits of the subject. To give success to his daring measures, the king was obliged to countenance the disciples of Luther, foster the great Reformation, and expose the practices of Rome. The public mind, aroused from the stupor of so many years, and released from the powerful superstitions under which it had bowed itself, plunged at once into a sea of bold and daring speculations, in pursuing which it neither consulted the new head of the church, nor the spiritual authorities which he had established. Henry was alarmed, and proclaimed the fundamental principles of his new faith, beyond which his subjects were not to pass : but although he persecuted Catholics and Protestants alike, piling up fagots for the one, and building scaffolds for the other, yet he could not restrain the minds of men from rioting in that freedom which he had been instrumental in bestowing. His subjects wilhngly "Vol. VIIL— 4 54 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, broke from the old establishment, but no power could hold them to the new. Catholics not only became Protestants, but Protest- ants became Puritans, and Puritans soon began to question the authority by which a wicked king imposed on the church of God the forms of its worship and the doctrines of its belief. Here was the commencement of the great English Rebellion, which resulted so gloriously for the cause of human rights. It is true that the strong arm with which Henry ruled the nation, and the steady and popular reign of his daughter Elizabeth, smothered for awhile the flame which was thus kindled ; but the death of Elizabeth made way for the house of Stuart, with its succession of weak and contemptible sovereigns, giving full scope to the bold and independent elements which had been silently gathering strength in the heart of the nation. The twenty-two years of James were marked by some disor- ders and many bold complaints on the part of the people ; but it ^was reserved for the tyranny of his son Charles to drive the people into acts of open resistance. During the first three years of his reign he dissolved three successive parliaments, because they sought to redress some of the grievances of the state ; and, having thrown into the tower the boldest advocates of popular rights, he resolved to govern without the aid or counsel of his people. Tyranny now took the place of law. The " Petition of Rights," which Charles had subscribed with his own hand, was disregarded; ancient laws and the most solemn recent pledges were outraged ; the courts of justice were made the corrupt instruments of the king's rapacity ; monopolies for the manufacture of soap and other articles were sold to favorites ; ship-money was levied ; the mili- tia disarmed ; troops quartered on the people, and the prisons filled with those who had dared to raise their voice against the king's oppressions. In the church. Laud, the archbishop, undertook to establish uni- formity, in doing which he proved himself even a greater despot than the king. The least derogation from the canons or liturgy was punished as a crime ; the pomp and ceremony of the discarded Catholic worship were everywhere revived ; magnificence adorned the walls of the churches ; consecrations were performed with the most ostentatious ceremonials, and a general belief in the speedy ^triumph of Popery prevailed. " I hale to be in a crowd, ' said the Duke of Devonshire's daughter to Laud, in apology for having gone over to the Catholic communion ; " and as I perceive your grace and many others are hastening toward Rome, I wish to get there comfortably by myself." 4» 1848.] Cromivell and the Revolution. 55 Nothing could be more uncongenial to the feelings of the Eng- lish people than this retrograde movement toward the high church authority of old Rome. For nearly a century they had been strug- gling on toward reform ; the Bible had been printed in the English tongue, and was widely diffused ; the simplicity of its doctrines had made a strong impression on the heart of an honest, thinking people, and the proceedings of Laud excited a general feeling of repulsion. The churches were in consequence mostly deserted, and in a few instances the bishop, in order to gather congregations for his splendid and gorgeous temples, was actually obliged to have recourse to compulsion. This absurd policy was followed by its natural consequences. Nonconformity, at first confined to the few and the obscure, was embraced in the towns by the better class of citizens, and in the country by the freeholders, the lesser gentry, and a few of the higher nobility. Disgusted with the high pretensions and harsh measures of the primate and his spiritual hierarchy, the people took to their embrace the persecuted and rejected nonconforming ministry ; and under their guidance and teachings a deep vein of piety was opened in the heart of the English nation, from which sprang a religion remarkable for the simplicity of its forms and the spirituality of its worship. But the new religious tendency was not toward regularity and uniformity. On the other hand, many little independent sects sprang up under the influence of that repulsion which was the natural effect of Laud's stringent measures, and, in disgust at his high-church dogmas, they rejected all general church government, and claimed the right to regulate their own forms of worship as they chose. Persecuted, these various sects clung together, and constituted a strong party, opposed alike to the high pretensions of the arch- bishop and the arbitrary measures of the king. They took the Bible as their guide ; its doctrines were the theme of constant dis- cussion ; its teachings were the only acknowledged rule of right ; and truth, honesty, industry, self-denial, and holiness, were incul- cated in the shop and in the field, at the family altar and the fire- side ; and a new race of men sprang into existence, whose integrity, patient endurance, steadfast firmness, and sublime dependence on God, made them capable of the highest efforts and the most daring enterprise. Individuals, and in many instances whole congregations, wearied with opposition and persecution, sought some retreat where the arm of power could not so easily reach them. Many retired to 56 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, Holland, and many more sought a refuge in the forests of the new world. Whole families sold their properly, and, embarking in companies, under the charge of some minister of their own faith, prepared to give up home and friends, their old ties of locality and brotherhood, for the unmolested worship of the Most High in the distant wilderness. Educated, intelligent, moral, industrious, pa- tient, and self-denying, they went forth, the pioneers of liberty, to give tone and energy to the character of a whole people, and to lay the foundations of this great and glorious republic. Many expeditions of this character took place silently, and with- out any obstacles on the part of the government. But all at once the king perceived that they had not only become numerous, but that many considerable citizens were engaged in them, and that they were carrying with them great riches. It was no longer a few weak and obscure sectarians who felt the weight of tyranny, but the feelings of these were now shared by men of every rank. It was necessary to stop this outflow of the discontented ; and accordingly an order from council was issued, forbidding the expe- ditions in a state of preparation to sail. O, blindness to the future! At that very time (May 1, 1637) eight vessels, ready to depart, were at anchor in the Thames. On board of one of them were Pym, Haslerig, Hampden, and Cromwell. The king's order pro- bably sealed his own fate. The archbishop, in attempting to carry his retrograde reforms into Scotland, aroused the spirit of resistance in that hardy and independent people, and he ceased not to add fuel to the flame till the Scots flew to arms. The war with Scotland called for re- sources which the king could not command without the concurrence of his people ; and he resolved, after an interregnum of eleven years, once more to assemble a parliament. But during these long years of oppression and tyranny the minds of men had not become reconciled to the yoke ; and on coming together again in their legislative capacity they immediately began to deliberate on the old subject of grievances. The king wanted money, and not complaints ; and after testing their temper for three weeks, he grew angry, and, ordering them before him, pronounced their dissolution. But he soon repented of his haste. Strafford was defeated almost without striking a blow ; and Charles, pressed with difficulties on every side, found it necessary to call another council of his people, and on the third of November, 1640, was assembled at Westminster that famous body, destined to be known through all time as the Long Parliament. It wcis now fifteen years since Charles ascended the throne. 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 57 For the half of a generation England had been without a parlia- ment. The constitution lay in ruins, and arbitrary force had been substituted for popular law. Three successive parliaments had been dissolved in as many years, for daring to assert the rights of the people, and now another had shared the same fate. What was to be done ? Were the people to recede or go forward ; to aban- don their rights, or maintain English liberty in its original strength? Fortunately, the late war had just then fully revealed the king's weakness, and the people resolved to strike for liberty. " Never," says Clarendon, " had the attendance at the opening of a session been so numerous ; never had their faces worn so proud an aspect in the presence of sovereignty." The new parliament commenced the work of reform with a bold hand. The innovations of the archbishop were attacked, and finally abolished ; the star chamber, the north court, and the court of high commission, were annulled ; a law was passed taking fi'om the king all power to dissolve parliament without its consent ; Strafford and Laud were impeached and thrown into the tower ; the bishops were excluded from their seats in the upper house, and finally seized and cast into prison ; Prynn, Burton, Bostwick, Leighton, Lilburne, and others, were released from their dun- geons ; the dissenting sects reappeared from their hiding-places, and the power of the state was again exerted to protect the rights of the citizen. The king subdued his resentment, and, feeling his weakness, quietly yielded to the storm ; giving a reluctant approval to all these sweeping reforms, and even consenting to the death of Straf- ford, an active, able minister, from whose talents and boldness the people had suffered much, and from whom they had most to ap- prehend in the future. His execution relieved them from a press- ing danger ; but the contemptible conduct of the king, in thus sacri- ficing his ablest and most faithful minister, shows how little faith could be reposed in him, even by his partisans. Mr. M'Cauley tartly observes, that it is good there should be such a man as Charles in every league of villany. It is for such men that offers of pardon and reward are intended. They are ever ready to secure themselves by bringing their accomplices to punishment. The abortive attempt of the king to seize the five members brought his affairs to a crisis. Five days after, he quilted White- hall to enter it no more as an independent sovereign, and retired to the north for the purpose of assembling an army in order to re- gain his lost prerogative. At York he was overtaken by commis- sioners authorized to propose terms for the settlement of all differ- 58 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, ences between him and parliament ; but Charles was now sur- rounded by his cavaliers, and inspired by too many high hopes to yield anything to the demands of his people. Both armies took the field in 1642. On the part of parliament the command was given to the Earl of Essex, a brave and experi- enced officer, but by no means equal to the temper of the times. The war was consequently conducted without energy, and resulted in no decisive advantages to either party down to the battle of Marston Moor, in 1644, two years after. It was at this battle that Cromwell appeared for the first time distinctly as the hero of a well-fought field. It was his energy and skill which determined the fate of that great battle, and henceforth he was to take a con- spicuous part in the conduct of public affairs. As a public man he was not altogether unknown. He had been a member of Charles's third parliament, also of the short parliament of 1640, and now held a seat in the Long Parliament. In these bodies he was known as one of the firmest and most consistent supporters of the popular cause, and was always found by the side of Pym, Hampden, &c., in their resistance to the arbitrary mea- sures of the king. He entered the army as a captain of horse, but was soon placed at the head of a regiment which he had raised among his own ac- quaintance. His men were remarkable for their orderly conduct, piety, and conscientious support of the popular cause, and were organized into a church under Cromwell's immediate eye. In this regiment no swearing was allowed, no plundering, drinking, or other disorders ; and, having the fear of God before their eyes, they soon lost all other /e«r. Such had been his success in the discipline and management of his men, that before the battle of Marston Moor he had been pro- moted to the rank of lieutenant-general. New-Castle, with six thousand troops, was shut up in York, and in the latter part of June, Prince Rupert, the boldest and most dashing leader of his time, appeared from the hills of Lancashire with an army of twenty thousand fierce men to relieve the place. The parliamentary army under Manchester and Cromwell drew out on the moor to meet him, and the result was, to use the quaint words of Carlyle, " four thousand one hundred bodies to be buried, and the total ruin of the king's affairs in those northern parts." Tiie prince had been suc- cessful in his first assault, and the parliamentary army was routed on the right wing ; but the squadrons of Cromwell bore down with such overwhelming force as to retrieve the fortunes of the day. 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 59 and bring out of the jaws of defeat the most glorious and complete victory which had yet crowned the arms of the popular cause. The circumstances of this great victory were such as to bring Cromwell more prominently before the people, and make him at once the object of admiration and of jealousy. The old generals, naturally enough, saw in his rapid advancement danger to their power, while the Scots and Presbyterians regarded his influence as the chief obstacle to making their religion the religion of the state. Since parliament had taken the " covenant," the Presbyterians had made a bold push to suppress the smaller religious sects and establish uniformity throughout the kingdom. The assembly of divines had received orders to prepare a plan of ecclesiastical state government, and four Scottish commissioners were appointed to act in concert with them, that the established doctrines and forms of worship might be the same in both kingdoms. Commissioners had also been appointed in each county to investigate the conduct and faith of the clergy, and no less than two thousand ministers were, in a brief space, ejected from their livings. Cromwell looked on these proceedings with decided disapproba- tion. In religious matters he adhered to the Independents, and, as the army was generally of the same religious faith, they rallied around him as their leader, and formed a party adverse to the parliamentary movement. In waging war against the tyranny of the English hie- rarchy, he had not anticipated the establishment of another tyranny equally odious, but had contended for that free toleration without which there can be no true liberty. He therefore raised his voice and exerted his influence against this new form of religious pro- scription, and presented an opposition so formidable as to excite the particular displeasure both of the English Presbyterians and their Scottish allies. One species of opposition led to another, and Cromwell turned the tables on his enemies by censuring the conduct of the leading officers, and the general management of the war. He and Major-general Crawford, a Scottish officer of some prominence, became accusers of each other before a committee of war, and the feelings of the generals being shared by their follow- ers, the dispute soon brought within its vortex the principal circum- stances connected with the two campaigns. Essex and Waller had been fitted out with armies no less than four times, and the resources of the nation had been tasked to their utmost to furnish supplies ; but, down to the last battle, nothing had been accomplished. The timorous, undecided policy of the 60 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, commanders had already protracted the war two years ; negotia- tions for peace and the restoration of the king had been regularly opened after every battle ; and the covenant, which brought the aid of Scotland, bound the army to the defense of the tyrant against whom they were waging a deadly warfare. These circumstances gave Cromwell an advantage of which he well knew how to avail himself, and he spoke out plainly. Indeed, such a war little suited his direct and straightforward mind. "I will not deceive you," said he to the men about to enlist under his banner, " nor make you believe,- as my commission has it, that you are going to fight for the king and parliament. If the king were before me, I would as soon shoot him as another. If your con- sciences will not allow you to do as much, go and serve else- where." Feeling thus, he acted accordingly. At the second battle of Newbury, in October, the royal forces rather had the worst, and Cromwell pressed Manchester, the commanding general, to follow up his advantage, fall upon the king's rear as he retired, and make an end of the war at a single blow. But Manchester refused. Twelve days after, when the king marched back to the relief of Donnington Castle, he again pressed the importance of an imme- diate attack, in which the king must necessarily have been over- thrown, but his advice was again overruled. It was evident that these Manchesters, Wallers, and Essexes, must in some way be got rid of; and Cromwell, being now as- sailed, came out boldly and returned the attacks of his enemies. He brought charges against Manchester before parliament ; but, as this did not reach the root of the evil, he soon after originated the famous " self-denying ordinance," a scheme to cast off all these dead weights at once. " What do the enemy say ?" said he in his speech on the occasion ; " nay, what do many say who were friends at the beginning of the parliament ? Even this — that the members of both houses have got great places and commands, and the sword in their hands ; and what by interest in parliament, what by power in the army, will perpetually continue themselves in grandeur, and not permit the war speedily to end, lest their own power should determine with it." The design of the " self-denying ordinance" was to deprive the *' members" of their " great places." It proposed that they should be recalled to their seats in parliament, and that others, not con- nected with parliament, should be appointed in their stead. It also allowed religious men to serve without first taking the cove- nant. This ordinance had to pass, and the old officers laid down 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 61 their commissions. Sir Thomas Fairfax was made lord general, and Essex was pacified with a princely pension. The " new model" went into operation, and parliament saw an immediate im- provement in its affairs. The " self-denying ordinance," and its results, are generally quoted as presenting the most indubitable testimony of Cromwell's craftiness and ambition. The suspicious circumstance about it is, that Cromwell, although cut off from his command by it, with the rest of the chief officers, never laid down his commission, but con- tinued in active employment to the end of the war. Those who regard him as an overreaching aspirant, see in this fact the plainest proof that the ordinance was introduced and carried into operation for the purpose of clearing the field for his ambitious projects, and that it was never his design to comply with its requirements. But the circumstances are easy of explanation without attributing his conduct to cunning, duplicity, or an overweening desire to promote his own advancement: and we are disposed to adopt that construc- tion most in accordance with the facts. The "self-denying ordinance" passed on the fourth of April, (1645.) It required all such officers as were members of parlia- ment to lay down their commissions within forty days, and resume their seats in parliament. Cromwell was not present when the bill finally passed, ^but had been sent, with Waller and Massy, into the west against Goring. A letter from him, dated on Wednesday, the ninth, represents him as busy with the enemy on the preceding sabbath, (the sixth,) in the vicinity of Salisbury, and he continued actively employed in this quarter for several weeks. But before the forty days had expired he went up to London, as Sprigg tells us, to hand in his commission, "kiss the general's hand," and take leave of the army. But just at that time Prince Rupert, who was then at Worcester with an army, had sent two thousand men across to Oxfora to give convoy to a quantity of ar- tillery. The committee of the two kingdoms who had charge of all military matters met Cromwell at London, and desired him to intercept the convoy. The order was of a nature to admit of no delay ; and he immediately threw himself into the saddle, and, two days after, attacked and routed the detachment, took two hundred prisoners and a large quantity of stores, and then, marching rapidly to the west, gained a victory at Whitney on the 26th, another at Bampton Bush on the 27th, and on the 29th summoned the garri- son at Farringdon, and attempted to carry it by storm, but drew off on the first or second of May, to comply with an order for join- ing the army at Reading. 62 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, His successes were fully reported to the commons, and made much noise through the country. " Who will bring me this Crom- well, dead or alive ?" said the king, who had been sadly annoyed at his rapid movements and brilliant sallies. Fairfax was now in daily expectation of a decisive action ; and being anxious tliat so brave and capable an officer should not be lost to him at such an important moment, he wrote to parliament, desiring that Crom- well's command might be continued ; and it was accordingly continued for another forty days by the house, and afterward for three months by the lords. He also received an order to join the main army at Northampton. He set out immediately, and reached the grand army on the 13th of June; and on the following day was fought the great battle of Naseby, in which he took so distin- guished a part. This great victory was the result of his prowess and energy, and placed the continuance of his command beyond the reach of all factious and " self-denying ordinances." It will thus be seen that this circumstance, so much wielded to Crom- well's prejudice, is susceptible of an easy and natural expla- nation. The battle of Naseby proved to be a death-blow to the royal cause. The king's affairs soon became desperate, and he finally surrendered to the Scots, and the Scots gave him up to the Eng- lish. He was sent, for the time, to Holmby Castle, in Northamp- ton, and a long series of negotiations followed between him and parliament, with a view to his restoration. These proceedings greatly displeased the army ; and all the jealousies and animosities between the Presbyterians and Independents, which had been smothered as long as there was a common enemy in the field, were now revived. The Presbyterians, who had a large majority in parliament, sought to seize the government, and- make their religion the reli- gion of the state ; but the presenc* of the army was a perpetual obstacle to their designs. Resolutions were passed to disband it ; but they refused to be disbanded without their pay, and were evi- dently not very anxious to retire and leave the fieM to their less tolerant rivals. Foiled in the first object of its wishes, parliament next pushed on its negotiations with the king. They hoped to persuade him into the covenant, and their suit was backed by the Scots, the queen, and the whole French court, who all urged him to abolish the Episcopal Church, and throw himself into the hands of the Presbyterians, who were pledged at once to restore him to his lost power. The Independents of the army viewed these advances with 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 63 alarm. They were the friends of toleration, and could see but little advantage to themselves for all their toils and sufferings if they were only to change the tyranny of episcopacy for that of presbytery. They were willing to tolerate both the one and the other, but they desired at the same time to secure liberty of con- science for themselves and their children. They resolved, therefore, to prevent the consummation of such an arrangement, and it was for this purpose that Joyce was sent to seize the king. This was a movement of the Independents in which Cromwell is supposed to have participated, together with the other officers and troops, though he openly denied all know- ledge of the transaction. The king, after his seizure, was treated with the utmost defer- ence. Mrs. Hutchinson tells us that " he lived in the condition of a guarded and attended prince ;" that " all his old servants had free recourse to him ;" that " all sorts of people were admitted to come and kiss his hands ;" and that a great familiarity also grew up between him and the principal officers of the army, particularly Cromwell, Fairfax, and Ireton. The feelings of Cromwell had evidently become very much softened toward the king ; and when he witnessed the interview between Charles and his children, after long montlis of separation, he spoke of it as a most touching spectacle — said that he had been deceived — that Charles was the best man in the three kingdoms — and that, in declining the terms of the Scots at Newcastle, he had saved the country from ruin. With these changed feelings toward the fallen monarch, he soon came to entertain the opinion that he might be restored to power, with himself and friends at the head of the government to keep the balance even between the contending parties, and that the affairs of the nation might thus be advantageously and securely settled. Negotiations were accordingly opened, and terms offered, much more favorable to the king than any which he had yet received. These terms proposed that he should give up for ten years the command of the militia, and the nomination of the great officers of state ; that seven of his former counselors should remain banished from the kingdom ; that all civil and coercive power should be withdrawn from the Presbyterian ministers ; that episcopacy should, to a certain limited extent, be restored ; that liberty of con- science should be guarantied ; that no peer created since the break- ing out of the war should sit in the upper house ; and that no cavalier should be admitted to the next parliament. • Under this new era of good feeling Mrs. Cromwell, Mrs. Ireton, 64 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, and Mrs. Whalley, were introduced at Hampton Court ; and the king, it is said, proposed to bestow on Cromwell a peerage, with the title of Earl of Essex, invest him with the honor of the garter, and give him the command of his guards. Ireton, his son-in-law, was to have the government of Ireland, and a distribution of like favors was to be made to other prominent individuals in the army. Several months passed in this courteous intercourse, and strong hopes were entertained that it would result in that satisfactory set- tlement of the kingdom for which the people had so long looked in vain. But it subsequently appeared that while these negotiations were going on, the king was, with his usual duplicity, giving encou- ragement to other projects, by which he hoped to be entirely freed from the trammels of his new friends, and restored to his ancient power. " Without ine," said he to Berkley, who urged him to ac- cept the proposals of the army, " these people cannot extricate themselves : you will soon see them too happy to accept more equitable conditions." In this country we are so much in the habit of associating all true liberty with republicanism, that such a settlement looks a little like a betrayal of confidence on the part of Cromwell, and it was certainly so regarded by a portion of the army, which body had imbibed strong republican tendencies ; and, having a most cordial hatred for the king, could not regard with patience any step looking toward his restoration. But the civil war had not been undertaken to put down monarchy, but to secure the individual rights of the English people. All tiic reforms thought to be most desirable had been made, and it now only remained to settle the government in such a way as to perpe- tuate the advantages gained. We confess, therefore, that such a settlement does not seem to us to imply any undue ambition, or a betrayal of confidence, on the part of Cromwell ; but that, on the other hand, it offered advantages more solid than any other course which could have been adopted. Cromwell would have made a splendid minister, and would not, in our opinion, have suffered himself to be seduced from the path of duty by any influences which the king could have thrown around him. English liberty would have been at once permanently established, and the scenes of blood afterward enacted, and ending, finally, in the restoration of the Stuarts, would have been avoided. But Charles had by no means resolved to commit himself to the keeping of his new friends. While the negotiations were going on with Cromwell and Ireton, he was also holding out hopes to the Presbyterians, and at the same time stirring up the elements of 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 65 another war. Cromwell, whose eagle eye penetrated his designs, became uneasy and suspicious. The king had said to Capel, " Be assured the two nations [Scotland and England] will soon be at war. The Scotch promise themselves the co-operation of all the Presbyterians in England ; let our friends, then, hold themselves ready and in arms." He also wrote to the queen (October, 1647) that he was courted by both factions, and should join the one which offered the greatest advantages, and probably the Presbyterians. "For the rest," he continued, "I alone understand my position. Be quite easy as to the concessions I may grant. When the time comes I shall very well know how to treat these rogues, and in- stead of a silken garter I will fit them with a hempen cordT This letter was sent carefully sewed up in a saddle ; but it was intercepted by the vigilance of Cromwell, who put a speedy end to the negotiations. From this time the king was looked after with more care ; his liberties were abridged ; his old servants were dis- missed ; and he soon began to feel that he was a prisoner. He now became alarmed, and resolved to make his escape ; which he did in the night, and in disguise, retiring to the west, and seeking shelter and protection in the Isle of Wight. The flight of the king was the signal for the commencement of another civil war. For this the elements had been ripening many months. The great royalist party were always ready to take the field in behalf of their sovereign. The great Presbyterian party, having put down Laud and the church hierarchy, was intent on securing itself permanently in power ; and their hopes, like those of the royalists, were now centred in the king. Scotland had long since offered to espouse the cause of the king, on condition that he would take the covenant; and being now touched with sympathy at his condition, determined to come at once to his rescue. And the city of London, which held the purse-strings of the nation, adhered to the Presbyterian interest, and was in a state of the most fearful excitement. On the other liand, the Independents of the army were broken into factions, and no longer able to act in concert. The late nego- tiations of Cromwell and Ireton with the king had shaken the con- fidence of a large body of fierce republicans, and brought them out into a distinct faction, opposed alike to their old leader, to the royalists, and to the Presbyterians. Discontent everywhere pre- vailed ; anarchy and insubordination appeared among the troops, and insurrection and riot prevailed in the city of London. Cromwell was in a sea of difficulties. With parliament seeking a reconciliation with the king, Scotland threatening war, the Pres- 66 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, byterians and royalists ready to fly to arms, and his own forces distracted and divided, he seemed to stand forsaken and alone. But he quickly saw where lay the hopes of his party. His first efforts were directed to a reunion of those who had hitherto acted against the king. With this view he called his friends around him at his own house ; he visited the London city councils, and appealed to them to act with their former energy and patriotism ; and he ordered a council of the leading officers to meet him at Windsor early in 1648. This meeting was one of unusual solemnity. The first day of the council was entirely devoted to prayer; and as no clear indi- cations of the path of duty were yet gleaned, the second day was spent in the same solemn and impressive services. According to the account of General Allen, after many had spoken from the word and prayed — " The lieutenant-general did pi'ess very earnestly on all those pre- sent a thorough consideration of our actions and of our ways, particu- larly as private Christians, to see if any iniquity could be found in them, and what it was ; that, if possible, we might find it out, and so remove the cause of such sad rebukes as were upon us. . . . And in this path the Lord led us not only to see our sin, but also our duty, and this so unanimously, with weight upon each heart, that none was hardlv able to speak a word to each other for bitter weeping. . . . And presenllv we were led and helped to a clear agreement among ourselves, not any dissenting, that it was our duty, with the forces we had, to go out and fight against those potent enemies which that year, in all places, appeared against us, with an humble confidence in the name of the Lord only. And we were also enabled, after seriously seeking his face, to come to a very clear and joint resolution, on many grounds, at large there debated, that it was our dilty, if ever the Lord bronyht. us back again in peace, to call Charles Stuart, that man of blood, to an account for that blood he had shed and mischief he had done, to his utmost, against the Lord's cause and people in this poor nation." — Letters and Speeches, p. 87. It was, then, in this prayer meeting of generals — this council of devout patriots — that the death of the king was decreed. He whom no contract could bind ; whose word — " the word of a king" — was like a rope of sand ; who was the centre on which every discontented faction rallied ; who, during six years, had deluged the country in blood, was at last to be regarded as a public enemy. The war, henceforward, was to be against, and not /or, the king; and, if taken, he was to be tried as a criminal and executed as a traitor. Who will say that this was not a righteous decision? With this distinct object before him, and sustained once more by the united voice of the army, Cromwell returned to camp, 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 67 quelled its disorders, and, having obtained the consent of the lord general, took the field and commenced active operations. Hamil- ton, with an army of more than tw^enly thousand Scots, was under- stood to be advancing to the assistance of the king, and no time was to be lost. The country was everywhere in a state of insur- rection, and Wales was actually in arms. Sir Marmaduke Lang- dale, who was opposed to Cromwell at Naseby, had taken the field, seized Berwick and Carlisle, and was on his way to join the Scots. But the celerity of Cromwell's movements baffled all the schemes of the enemy. . He marched into the west, reduced Pembroke, quelled the rising spirit of royalty, and then hastened toward the north to support Lambert, who was already watching the advance of the Scots. The two armies met in the vicinity of Preston ; and although Cromwell was less than half the strength of his antago- nist, yet, seizing a favorable moment, when the Scots had their lines greatly extended, he fell upon them with his usual confidence and impetuosity, and in two or three successive engagements anni- hilated all their forces. More than two thousand were killed, and about nine thousand taken prisoners — the latter being more in number than his entire army. In the mean lime Fairfax had reduced the insurrectionary spirits in and about London ; and Cromwell, having now terminated the second civil war by one of the most brilliant campaigns on record, returned to the capital, to see that justice was executed against Charles Stuart, "that man of blood," who was regarded in the army as the author of all the calamities of England. We need not recount the circumstances attending the death of the king. That painful event was the result of a deliberate pur- pose on the part of the army. We have already seen that it was resolved upon by the council of officers at Windsor, and was then deemed a measure so just and important as to be the principal element in bringing about that united action which enabled them to triumph in tlie late campaign. Later events had not tended to shake their determination. But, right and equitable as the execution of the king might be, to accomplish it was no easy matter. The people, bred up to re- spect the royal person, contemplated such an event with horror. The majority in parliament, so far from desiring it, were the open advocates of his return to power ; and the ordinary courts, guided by the light of English law, must pronounce that the king could do no wrong, and hence must be free from any criminal charge. But the proverb saith that "where there is a will there is a 68 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, way;" and "the way" chosen in this extremity was to exchide from parhament by force such members as could not be rehed upon by the army, and intrust the duty of constituting a court for the trial of Charles to the remainder. Cromwell was not in London when Colonel Pride " purged the house," but no one doubts that this measure was taken with his concurrence and advice. Both he and Fairfax were appointed on the court, but the lord general attended only one sitting. Cromwell, on the other hand, was a constant attendant ; and it was his firmness, more than that of any other person, which carried the state steadily through this tragic scene. For many years the guilt of this transaction was regarded as little less than murder, and the part which Cromwell bore in it attached an odium to his name which it will require other long years entirely to wipe away. But at this day there are few per- sons who question the equity of that proceeding, however much they may doubt its policy. We do not think it worth while to waste words on the character of Charles Stuart. The facts which we have narrated will settle that pretty thoroughly with any reader not very deeply imbued with the absurd doctrine of the divine right of kings. Weak and insincere, he was unfitted by nature for his high station, and the circle of his crimes extended through the whole decalogue. His sentence declared him to be a tyrant, a traitor, a murderer, and a public enemy ; and the judgment of mankind will generally concur in the correctness of its delineation. The army had been excited against him by six years of cruel civil war, during which much property was wasted and many valu- able lives destroyed. All propositions to restore him to his throne, on terms which 'vould have secured the people against his injustice and tyranny, had been rejected, and no hopes of a peaceable settle- ment of the kingdom remained so long as Charles Stuart lived. Mr. Macauley, who has no hesitation in acknowledging the justice of the king's sentence, reasons strongly against the policy of his execution. He says that the blow which terminated his life transferred the allegiance of every royalist to an heir who was at liberty, and that, under such circumstances, to kill the individual was not to destroy, but to release, the king. " To take one head," he continues, " it was necessary to strike the House of Lords out of the constitution, to exclude members of the House of Commons by force, to make a new crime, a new tribunal, a new mode of pro- cedure." It is certainly true that the constitution was changed — that the 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 69 house of parliament was violated, and all the proceedings relating to the king's death extraordinary. But these things resulted more from the revolutionary state than from the necessity of taking the king's head. Everything was now unsettled. Parliament, which had so long administered the government, had dwindled into con- tempt. Its numbers were greatly diminished ; it was torn by fac- tions ; it had been overawed by the army, overawed by the mob, and was the instrument of any master who chose to assert his au- thority. A new power had arisen, and was making itself felt in the direction of public affairs. That power was the army. It first aimed only to intimidate ; it then purged the house ; it next abo- lished the lords, and then expelled the " rump," and set up a government of its own. If the king had not been called to his last reckoning, but had remained a prisoner in the tower, there is no reason to believe that these or similar disorders would have been avoided. It was not, then, the " taking of one head" which gave rise to these changes in the government. They were the natural result of the revolutionary state. In considering the policy of the king's execution, it should not be forgotten that it was Charles who iiad so often stirred up the ele- ments of civil war ; that it was Charles who was coquetting by turns, or at the same time, with every faction and every party ; that it was Charles who was the centre of every discontented movement ; that to restore him to power was now impossible— to keep him a prisoner was to preserve in the heart of the nation the elements of perpetual strife. His death did indeed transfer the allegiance of his people to his son ; but that son was at a distance, and could not return to claim his throne without levying open war, which was much less to be dreaded than internal faction. All the power of England could not keep Charles from plotting mischief; but Cromwell made very short work with his covenanted son. After the death of the king, the government continued to be ad- ministered by parliament — now reduced to a "rump" — assisted by a council of state, forty-one in number, of whom Bradshaw was president. In this council were Fairfax, Cromwell, Whitlock, Henry Martin, Ludlow, the younger Vane, &c., &c. Cromwell was soon named lord lieutenant of Ireland, and set out in great state and ceremony for his new command. Ireland was at that time little more than a nation of barbarians, and for many years the island had been a scene of the wildest an- archy. " Ever since the Irish Rebellion broke out," says Carlyle, "and changed into an Irish massacre in the end of 1641, it has been a scene of distracted controversies, plunderings, excommuni' Vol. Vin.— 5 •^O Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, cations, treacheries, conflagrations, universal misery, and blood, such as the world before or since has never seen." Ornaond, the lieutenant under the late king, had returned thither with a new commission, in hopes to co-operate with Scotch Ha- milton in the second civil war ; but arriving too late for that object, had done the next best thing for the royal cause, which was to unite all the discordant and distracted elements in the island against the new commonwealth ; and at Cromwell's arrival, Dublin and Dury were the only two places still held by the parliamentary forces, both of which had lately been invested by the enemy, and the latter was still under siege. All Ireland was joined in one great combination to resist the Puritanic government of the sister isle. With the insurrectionary spirit scarcely quelled in England, and the indications of a new civil war gathering in Scotland, Crom- well saw necessity for the most vigorous and decisive action ; and he accordingly fell upon the rebels like the hammer of Thor, breaking down and crushing in a way which soon terminated the war, and tamed the rude and discordant population into the most humble submission. The enemy, at his approach, retired to the stronghold of Drog- heda, and, when summoned to surrender, gave no satisfactory an- swer. The lord lieutenant immediately arranged his batteries, and, having made a breach in the wall, carried the place by storm, after a protracted and desperate struggle ; and, instead of giving the usual quarter, put the whole garrison, amounting to over two thou- sand souls, to the sword. Much has been said of the cruelty of this act, so different from Cromwell's usual bearing after a victory. The best explanation of it is to be found in his own dispatches. He there regards it as a just judgment of God, and expresses his belief that it will prevent the effusion of blood for the future. He says : — " I am persuaded that this is a righteous judgment of God upon these barbarous wretches, who have imbrued their hands in so much innocent blood, and that it will tend to prevent the effusion of blood for the future ; which are the satisfactory grounds to such actions, that otherwise cannot but work remorse and regret." — Letters and Speeches, p. 128. Carte tells us that "the execrable policy of that regicide" (meaning Cromwell) " had the effect he proposed ;" and whoever looks over the history of the war will come to the same conclusion as Cromwell's enemy. It spread abroad the terror of the conquer- or's name so thoroughly, that, after the fall of Wexford, the garri- son of which was, in part, dealt with after the same stern fashion, 5* 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. Tl garrison after garrison yielded quietly at his approach, until the whole of Ireland was subdued. In the midst of this campaign of triumphs he was summoned back to England. The Scots had made a treaty with the Prince of Wales, had proclaimed him as Charles the Second, and were meditating a descent into England, for the purpose of placing him on the throne. The lord lieutenant, on his arrival, was received with all due honors, and from Bristol to Whitehall, says Carlyle, was one " wide tumult of salutation, congratulation, artillery vol- leying, and human shouting." It would seem that Fairfax had resolved not to command the army against the Scots. His wife was a decided Presbyterian, and had strongly reprobated the proceedings against the late king. She now probably favored the claims of Charles the Second, and influenced her husband not to fight the covenanters. Both Whit- lock and Ludlow tell of solemn conferences at Whitehall, preceded by prayer, in which Cromwell pressed Fairfax to take the com- mand, and lead the army into Scotland ; but he continued to de- cline, and finally sent in his resignation. Cromwell was then appointed lord general, and with his usual promptitude took the field. In two brilliant campaigns — terminating, the one with the great battle of Dunbar, and the other with the great battle of Worcester — Cromwell subdued all the enemies of the commonwealth, and left the unfortunate young king an outcast and a wanderer. He next turned his attention to civil affairs. Mr. Curry thinks " that now his ambitious purposes were, to a good degree, matured, and that he began to feel that it was the intention of Providence to raise him to the throne." If this was really the case, one would think that so shrewd a man as Cromwell would iiave seized the moment when the country was ringing with his fame, and he was high in the affections of the people, to consummate his object. And yet it was nearly two years from the battle of Worcester be- fore he dissolved the remnant of the Long Parliament, and a year from that event to his assumption of tiie protectorate. If his origi- nal design had been to mount to the throne, surely he would not have waited to try so many experiments. That he was ambitious, we do not doubt — so were Washington and Bolivar ; but that he sought his own elevation at the expense of the liberties of England, we see no good reason to believe. It is a very common thing in this country to hear expressions of regret that Cromwell finished his career by seizing the reins of government ; and that he did not, like Washington, resign into the 72 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, hands of the people his sword when his work was done, and retire from public life till called forth by the voice of his country. We doubt whether the different circumstances under which these great men acted have been sufficiently considered. When Washington was offered the crown, by an army ready and willing to sustain him, his conduct was such as we had a right to expect from his previous character : but it is by no means certain that Cromwell would not, under similar circumstances, have pursued a similar line of conduct. To Washington the path of patriotism and duty was perfectly plain, and any high-minded man, not over greedy of power, would have done as he did. England, the only enemy of America, had made a treaty of peace with us, and left us free and independent. We had no Prince of Wales hovering on our coasts, and making interest with the surrounding nations to restore him to the throne of his fathers. We had no great royal party, ready to rise at the least appearance of weakness or disorder, and overthrow the government. We had no violent internal factions — no great disa- greements about the form of government — nothing to settle with regard to the future. Republicanism had grown with our growth and strengthened with our strength. Every state had its own constitution, laws, and form of government, to which the people had been accustomed for long years, and no great innovations or changes were demanded by any party. The whole framework of our government was al- ready settled, and the revolution made us only independent of Great Britain. Washington could, therefore, safely lay down his power, and be assured that no disastrous event would follow. It was not thus with England. There the people originally took arms to secure certain rights ; but in the course of the war they found it impossible to make any terms with their king, and they therefore took his head and discarded his family. A foreign prince might have been imported, as was afterward done in '88 ; but the army, into whose hands the power had fallen, was too republican in its opinions to submit to such a step. The commonwealth therefore found itself without a government, while the fiercest fac- tions prevailed, and men were everywhere ready to sustain their opinions by the sword. England was indeed belted with difficulties. The republicans would not listen to the restoration of the kingdom for a moment. The nobility were mostly royalists, who were always ready to take arms for the crown. Scotland was the centre of Presbyteri- anism, and was morose and ill at ease because it had failed to 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 73 establish the nation on the basis of the covenant ; while the young king was watching the tide of events at the French court, ready to take advantage of any internal disturbance in order to vault into the vacant throne. Had Cromwell, under these circumstances, laid down his power, no one can doubt that a train of events similar to those which actu- ally took place after the death of the Protector would have ensued ; that despotism would have resumed its iron sway ; that the great and glorious progression of the people toward civil and religious freedom would have come to a sudden pause ; that Cromwell himself would have soon found a secure place in the tower, or felt the hangman's rope tighten about his neck. We can see no way by which Cromwell could have resigned his power without endangering both the liberties of his country and his own personal safety. It was evident that he alone could steer the ship of state through the surrounding dangers, and that if he relinquished the helm it must be lost. Anarchy and weakness would have ensued for a season, and then Charles and despotism. His only chance was to retain in his own hands the power of the state, until the country had settled down into quiet and subordi- nation. Let the reader call to mind what actually took place after the death of Cromwell. The country then had been under a settled government for several years, and the mantle of power dropped quietly from the shoulders of Oliver to those of Richard, who was proclaimed without a dissenting voice in every part of the nation, and the officers of the father continued to hold their places under the administration of the son. But when he discovered his own incompetency, and gave up the government, the utmost confusion followed. First, a council of officers undertook the government ; then they revived the "Rump Parliament;" then there was an insurrection of royalists ; then parliament was expelled, and a committee of safety established ; and finally Charles the Second was brought back to compose the disorders of the nation. It was not then, in our opinion, an overweening or impure ambi- tion which urged Cromwell on to power, but circumstances, and circumstances which he ought not to have disregarded. Mr. Vaughan, who has written very ably of this interesting period of English history, doubts whether he was ever at heart the advocate of a republican form of government. Cromwell was the friend of liberty, without being very deeply versed in the different theories of government. The evils which existed in the state were sufficiently obvious to his mind, but how 74 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, to devise a cure was exceedingly difficult. He gave the subject much earnest attention, and evidently vacillated between different theories. The republican form would have been most popular with a large portion of the army, but in the midst of such fierce factions and so many dangers he might well fear to trust it. Mo- narchy, in the old form, seemed to be out of the question ; and, in our opinion, he chose wisely when he resolved to institute a sys- tem making as few alterations as the circuiristances would admit in that form of government to which the people had been so long accustomed. The people of England, at this time, had no clear notions of a government purely popular, and were so little prepared for its practical developments as to show to us, if not to Cromwell, the utter impracticability of a scheme of government founded on that basis. Royalists, Presbyterians, republicans, and levelers, had all proved themselves alike intolerant, and each was ready to defend his own views with the sword. Under such a state of things, a government founded on opinion could not possibly hold together. We know that some writers think otherwise, and tell us that liberty can always safely be left to take care of itself. Mr. Macau- ley, for instance, says that there is onl)^ one cure for the evils which newly acquired freedom produces — that cure is freedom ! " When a prisoner," says he, " leaves his cell, he cannot bear the light of day : he is unable to discriminate colors or recognize faces. But the remedy is, not to remand him to his dungeon, but to accustom him to the rays of the sun. The blaze of truth and liberty may at first dazzle and bewilder nations which have become half blind in the house of bondage : but let them gaze on, and they will soon be able to bear it." In this beautiful passage Mr. Macauley seems to forget that the sudden blaze of light which falls on the feeble vision of his pri- soner when he steps forth into the beams of full-orbed day is apt to produce blindness, and that the skillful physician graduates the light according to the strength of the patient's eyes. In case of long imprisonment and great weakness of vision, the remedy would be, not certainly to remand the prisoner to his cell, but to introduce him to such a degree of light as he could bear, and thus continue to admit more and more, till he could finally endure the flood of day. And this strikes us as the true reading of Mr. Ma- cauley's illustration. We may be wrong, but we do not now recollect any instance in the history of the world where a nation has passed at once from 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 75 despotism to the full blaze of republican freedom without suffering a counter-revolution. Revolutions which attempt very great changes are seldom, if ever, successful. The American revolu- tion, the French revolution of 1830, and the English revolution of 1688, were all successful, and resulted in the immediate and per- manent enlargement of human rights ; but none of these wrought fundamental changes in the government. The attempt of the French to found a republic on the ruins of their long-established monarchy was an utter failure. Faction succeeded to faction, till, exhausted by their bootless efforts, the people suffered the government to fall under the iron rule of Na- poleon, and finally back into the hands of the Bourbons. The re- volution of which we are treating, suffered a similar fate. The people first sought shelter from the rage of faction in the power of Cromwell, and then fell again under the yoke of the Stuarts. It must, we think, ever be thus. Men suddenly set free from long-established restraints plunge into excesses, and thence fall into some new despotism. They have been so long in the house of political bondage, that they cannot endure the dazzling light of full, unrestrained liberty, but are smitten with blindness, and grope their way back to their old prison-house. It is for this reason that the world struggled so long in vain for that freedom which, since the days of Cromwell, has made such astonishing progress among the nations. Men have sought liberty in ail ages of the world, and have been strong enough to overthrow their tyrannical masters ; but, like an unruly horse which has broken the reins and thrown its rider, they rush madly on, not knowing what use to make of their newly acquired freedom, till, exhausted by their bootless efforts, they quietly yield to the direc- tion of some new master. We do not believe that men are to wait for liberty till they have become wise and good in slavery. That, to use another figure of the gifted Macauley, " would be worthy of the fool in the old story, who resolved not to go into the water till he had learned to swim." But as the man who for the first time trusts himself in the water should be particularly careful of his footing, so that nation which has never tried the sweets of liberty should be careful, when it en- ters its pure stream, not to be seduced too far till it has accustomed itself to its new element. A careful investigation of this subject will show, we think, that the liberties of mankind are not to be achieved by great revolu- tions, but by trial and experiment in a moderate way. Our own country enjoys a greater degree of freedom than any other in the 76 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, wide world, and it is the centre from which the hght has gone out to illumine the nations. But our institutions had their origin, not in the wisdom or device of man, but in a train of experiences shaped by Providence, and over which men exerted little control. The Puritans, in pursuit of religious liberty, came to America. Here they settled under the shadow of the English throne, but re- moved alike from its tyrannies and its corruptions. They grew up in neglect, and being left to form their own political organizations, they humbly copied the representative system of England, with such modifications as their plain and homely circumstances re- quired. Released from the dungeons of European despotism, their eyes were gradually strengthened under their colonial vassal- age, and they went on step by step, combating practical errors, struggling against the usurpations of their imported governors, complaining of wrongs, rooting out intolerance, declaring them- selves independent, and finally binding themselves together by a written constitution. While, therefore, it is true that the only cure for the excesses of freedom \s freedom, it is also true that the remedy is far from being infallible, and that it is most successful when taken in homoeopa- thic doses. In our opinion, then, any attempt to establish a re- public in England would have failed, and Cromwell acted wisely in shaping his government in accordance with the usages and pre- judices of the people. Cromwell's ascent to power was easy and natural, and we can- not see those evidences of an impure ambition which are so gene- rally ascribed to him. As lord-general he was already the chief man in the nation, and had long controlled, more or less, both the military and civil power. It was as easy for him to have stepped into the vacant throne on returning in triumph from the battle of Worcester, as it was to be proclaimed Protector three years after- ward. But he paused, as we verily believe, to see what would be most for the good of his country and the success of Protestantism. After repeated solicitations from his parliament, he peremptorily declined to take the kingly office, and was never for a moment intoxicated with the cup of power which he had so largely tasted. Cromwell was ambitious, but not for himself or for his family.. His ambition regarded his country, and the success of the Protest- ant religion. He was ambitious to make England the queen of the Protestant world, and ambitious to protect the persecuted and down-trodden from the shafts of the oppressor. His course toward the poor sufferers of Piedmont is well known. Indeed, the power 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 77 of England was, in his hands, uniformly exerted to shield the Protestant churches all over Europe. His administration was marked by the strength of his own steady and vigorous mind. He had no fear of his power, and was not, therefore, jealous of popular encroachments. He gave the country a constitution far more liberal than any which had preceded it ; equalized the representative system in a manner which even Cla- rendon commends ; gave parliament a voice in the appointment of his ministers ; yielded up the entire legislative authority without even reserving the veto power ; and was the first statesman who conceived the idea of religious toleration. It is worthy of remark, too, that his institutions became more and more liberal as his power was established ; and, had he lived, we doubt not that the arbitrary features of his government would have entirely disap- peared. No administration was ever more respected abroad. " The lord protector's government," writes a Brussels correspondent in Thurloe, " makes England more formidable and considerable to all nations than ever it has been in my time." His acute mind rea- dily discovered where lay the great source of England's prosperity and power, and his zeal for commerce surpassed that of all the sovereigns who had preceded him. The impulse given by his potent hand to the prosperity of England is felt, even down to the present time. His " besotted fanaticism," as his enemies are pleased to call his attachment to religion, never clouded his perceptions of the public good. He surrounded himself with men of the highest ability and integrity, and his court combined regal dignity and state with the strictest sobriety, temperance, and good order. He was also tolerant toward his opponents, and, where no doubts were en- tertained respecting their integrity, he often raised them to place and power. Blake, who made the English flag so terrible during his ascendency ; Hale, the renowned and incorruptible judge ; Burnett, the Scotch jurist ; and Lockhart, the celebrated French ambassador, were all stanch opponents of the protectorate, but owed their elevation to his favor. The cup of power, which so intoxicated Napoleon, produced no such effect on Cromwell. Those successes which seduced the Frenchman into endless wars, and finally led to his overthrow, had no power over the practical mind of the great Englishman. Al- though he never looked on war till more than forty years old, yet he never fought a battle without gaining a victory, and never gained a victory without annihilating his foe. Although no states- 78 Cromioell and the Revolution. [January, man till he was thrust at the head of the English government, yet his eagle eye watched over every department of the public business, and he was as successful in his foreign negotiations and foreign wars as he had been at the head of an army. No prosperity made him vain, no adversity fretted him ; but in the storm of battle and on a bed of sickness he was equally ready to ascribe all to the favor and goodness of God ; and he went down to the grave in the full- ness of his power, in his own house, and surrounded by his family and friends. Although the government ultimately fell back into the hands of the Stuarts, yet Cromwell's splendid administration was remem- bered, and the revolution of 1688, regarded as so glorious an era in English history, was the direct fruit of his labors. The people were never entirely satisfied with his government ; yet when the M^eak and corrupt sons of the late king returned to power, followed by retinues of profligate and debauched courtiers; "when the Dutch cannon startled an effeminate tyrant in his own palace ; when the conquests which had been made by the armies of Crom- well were sold to pamper the harlots of Charles ; when English- men were sent to fight under the banners of France against the independence of Europe and the Protestant religion ; many honest hearts swelled in secret at the thought of one who had never suf- fered his country to be ill used by any but himself."* The com- parison was too humiliating to the honest heart of the English people, and they arose in their wrath and expelled the tyrant from their throne, and invited a foreign prince to take his place. One of the greatest faults of the work of M. Guizot, placed at the head of this article, is the flippancy with which it speaks of Cromwell's hypocrisy, fanaticism, and ambition. At one time he is a "fanatic;" then he is "devoured by ambition and doubt;" then he " hypocritically affects moderation," &c., &c. It is true that words like these are so familiar in all English history, that a foreigner may well be excused for using them ; but we have looked through his pages with great care to find facts to sustain such lan- guage, and have looked in vain. We have already expressed our opinion in regard to the charges of ambition ; and, although our article is unreasonably long, yet we cannot part with the reader till we have said a word as to his " hypocrisy." Mr. Carlyle has, we think, given to the world the materials for making up an intelligent opinion on this subject. We refer to Cromwell's letters. It is in his family, in private intercourse with familiar friends, and in hasty notes and letters, that a man breathes • Macauley. 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 79 out his soul. It is impossible for any one always to sustain an assumed character. He may do so in his robes of office, in his state papers and public correspondence ; but to confidential friends, and in the bosom of his family, nature will speak out — the true man will be revealed. Hence the public are always desirous to get hold of the private correspondence of statesmen and politicians. Hence the rapid sale of the late work of William Lyon M'Kcnzie, containing private letters from Mr. Van Buren, Mr. Butler, &c. We have seen Laud tried in this way, and condemned. His letters to Strafford are said to be free from even the ear-marks of piety. Charles was notorious for the discrepancy between his public acts and his private thoughts — his solemn negotiations and his letters to his queen. Even Washington, in his letters to his brother, ex- pressed apprehensions respecting the termination of the American war which were breathed to no other individual. Now we have looked carefully through all the letters of Crom- well, contained in Carlyle's book, written to his wife, his daugh- ters, his sons, &c., &c., with the view of detecting the cant and hypocrisy about which we have heard so much; and the conclusion to which we have come is, that he was a man eminently earnest and sincere, deeply imbued with a sense of his responsibility to God and his duty toward his fellow-man, and looking to the great tribunal in another world as the place to which he was to render his account and receive his reward. Cromwell professed to be a Christian ; he attended to the public and private duties of religion ; he had his daily hours for reading the Scriptures, and for meditation and prayer ; he was blameless in his deportment ; a strict observer of the sabbath ; spoke pub- licly in religious meetings, and contributed immense sums annually in charities : but it is contended that all these observances were put on for sinister purposes, and used to preserve the favor of his party and assist him in his ambitious projects. But hypocris}'-, however perfect the cloak may be, will not sus- tain a man in sickness and other trials ; it will not give him confi- dence in God ; it will not make him solicitous about the spiritual life of his wife and children ; it will not support him in the hour of death. Did Cromwell feign all these things? Was his earnest- ness played off for long years by way of effect ? Did he carry the deception into the bosom of his family and among his children ? Did it go with him down to the grave ? The thing is too absurd to admit of belief for a moment. That Cromwell was often mistaken, we do not doubt. His cha- racter, like that of Luther, Knox, Calvin, and the other early 80 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, reformers, partook of the enthusiasm of the times ; and he regarded himself as fighting for the success of religion, and deliverance from Popish and ecclesiastical tyranny, and looked upon his successes as evidences of the divine favor : but surely these errors, if errors they were, are no proof of his insincerity, but show rather that he is everywhere, and in all things, conscious of the pervading pre- sence of the Most High. His mother was an eminent servant of God, and his children generally manifested a deep interest in the subject of religion. They all came to him for advice and counsel, and formed together a most affectionate and agreeable household. The industrious Thurloe, in one of his diplomatic dispatches, casually remarks : " My lord protector's mother, of ninety-four years old, died last night. A little before her death she gave my lord her blessing in these words : ' The Lord cause his face to shine upon you and comfort you in all your adversities, and enable you to do great things for the glory of your most high God, and to be a relief unto his people. My dear son, I leave my heart with you. Good night !' and thus sunk into her last sleep.'' The subject of religion appeared ever to be uppermost in his thoughts, and pervades his entire correspondence. Whether he wrote to Bradshaw, the president of council ; to Blake, the great sea-king ; to Lenthall, speaker of the commons ; to Fleetwood, his general-in-chief in Ireland ; or to his wife and children at home, he is always the same — always urging the importance of the spiritual life, and the transient and unsatisfactory nature of all worldly good. In a letter to Bradshaw he says : — " Indeed, my lord, your service needs me not. I am a poor creature, and have been a dry bone, and am still an unprofitable servant to my Master and to you. I thought I should have died of this fit of sick- ness, but the Lord seemelh to dispose otherwise. Truly, my lord, 1 desire not to live unless I may obtain mercy from the Lord to approve my heart and life to him in more faithfulness and thankfulness." To Blake he says : — " We have been lately taught that it is not in man to direct his way. Indeed, all the dispensations of God, w^hether adverse or prosperous, do fully read that lesson. We can no more turn away the evil, as we call it, than attain the good ; and therefore Solomon's counsel of doing what we have to do with all our might, and getting our hearts wholly submitted, if not to rejoicing, at least to contentment with whatever shall be dispensed by him, is worthy to be received by us." To Fleetwood, who married his daughter, and was now his general in Ireland, he says : — 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 81 " My heart is for the people of God ; that the Lord knoweth, and Avill in due time manifest. Yet thence are my woimds ; which, though it grieve me, yet, through the grace of God, doth not discourage me totally. . . . Dear Charles, my dear love to thee and to my dear Biddy, [his daughter,] who is a joy to my heart for what I hear of the Lord in her. . . . Pray for me, that the Lord would direct and keep me his servant. I bless the Lord I am not my own. But my condition, to llesh and blood, is very hard. Pray for me." Carlyle, in copying this letter, exclaims, in his own peculiar Avay :— " Courage, my brave Oliver ! thou hast but some three years more of it, and then the coils and puddles of this earth, and of its unthankful doggery of a population, are all behind thee ; and Carrion Heath, and Chancelor Hyde, [Clarendon,] and Charles Stuart, the Christian king, can work their will ; for thou hast done with it ; thou art above it in the serene azure for evermore." In a letter to his wife, he thus speaks of another of his daugh- ters : — " Mind poor Betty, of the Lord's great mercy. O ! I desire her not only to seek the Lord in her necessity, but in deed and in truth to turn to him, keep close to him, and take heed of a departing heart, and of being cozened with worldly vanities and worldly company, which I doubt she is too subject to. I earnestly and frequently pray for her, and for him, [her husband.] Truly they are dear to me, very dear, and I am in fear lest Satan should deceive them." To his daughter, Mrs. Ireton, who afterward married Fleetwood, he says : — " Who ever tasted that the Lord is gracious without some sense of self, vanity, and badness ? Who ever tasted that graciousness of his and became less desirous, less anxious, to press after full enjoyment? Dear heart, press on. Let not husband, let not anything, cool thy affection after Christ. I hope he will be an occasion to inflame them. That which is best worthy of love in him is the image of Christ he bears. Look on that and love it best, and all the rest for that." Another letter to his wife, written after the battle of Dunbar, has these words : — " The Lord hath showed us an exceeding mercy : who can tell how great it is ! my weak faith hath been upheld. I have been in my in- ward man marvelously supported, though I assure thee I grow an old man, and feel the infirmities of age stealing upon me. Would my cor- ruptions did as fast decrease ! Pray on my behalf!" At a still later period he writes : — " It joys me to hear thy soul prospereth. The Lord increase his favors to thee more and more. The greatest good thy soul can wish 82 Cromwell and the Revolution. [January, is that he would lift upon thee the light of his countenance, which is better than life." We might multiply these extracts to a very great extent, for what we have here set down pervades Cromwell's entire corre- spondence. But this is sufficient for our purpose. If Cromwell was a hypocrite, his hypocrisy continued down to the da)^ of his death, and followed him " into the eternities." Just before his last illness he lost his son-in-law, husband to the lady Frances, who had been wedded but four months. He was a son of the Earl of Warwick, who acknowledges the "faithful affections" and "Chris- tian advices " which the Protector had administered to him in his afflictions. The old man followed his son soon after ; and in the midst of these losses and these " Christian advices," Cromwell, struggling with new seas of troubles, new insurrections, revolts, and discontents, which had to be crushed, met with new afflictions in that family circle where lay all his real pleasures. The lady Clay pole, his favorite daughter, and a favorite of all the world, had fallen sick of a most painful disease, and lingered in great distress. Hampton Court was a house of sorrow ; " pale death was knocking thdre, as at the door of the meanest hut. ' She had great sufferings, great exercises of spirit ;' and in the depth of the old centuries we see," says Carlyle, " a pale, anxious mother, anxious husband, anxious, weeping sisters, a poor young Frances weeping anew in her weeds." Cromwell, for many days, was at her bedside, unable to attend to any public business whatever, and just before her death broke down under his continued care and watching. He was a most lender and affectionate father, and the pains and sufferings of this his favorite daughter took a deep hold of his feelings, and he never recovered from the shock. In about two weeks after her death, which happened on the 6th of August, 1658, he took to his bed, from which he never arose. Laid thus low by the hand of affliction, he called for his Bible, and desired a friend to read the following passage from Philippi- ans : " Not that I speak in respect of want ; for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and by all I am instructed, both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strenglheneth me." "Ah," said he, "it is true, Paul, ijou have learned this, and attained to this measure of grace ; but what shall / do ? It is a hard lesson for me to take out, but," he added, " he that was Paul's Christ is my Christ too." 1848.] Cromwell and the Revolution. 83 He spoke often of the " Mediator of the covenant." " Failli in the covenant," said he, "is my only support, and if I beheve not, He abides faithful." When his wife and children gathered around his bed, weeping, in sad anticipation of their approaching loss, he said, " Love not this world. I say unto you, it is not good that you should love this world. No, children, live like Christians. I leave the covenant for you to feed upon." On another day he said, " It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God." This, says Maidstone, was spoken three times, his repetitions being very weighty, and with great vehe- mency of spirit. " But then," he said, "all the promises of God are in Him.'''' On another occasion he said, "The Lord hath filled me with as much assurance of his pardon and his love as my soul can hold." And again, " I am conqueror, and more than con- queror, through Christ that strengtheneth me. I am the poorest wretch that lives, but I love God, or rather God loves me." " Lord," said he, " however thou do dispose of me, continue and go on to do good to thy people. Give them consistency of judg- ment, one heart, and mutual love ; and go on to deliver them, and advance the work of reformation and make the name of Christ glorious in the world. Teach those who look too much on thy instruments to depend more on thyself, and pardon such as de- sire to trample on the dust of ^ poor ivojin.'''' He died on the third of September, his fortunate day — the day on which he won the great battle of Dunbar, in 1650, and the great battle of Worcester, in 1651 , and which, during the protectorate, was always kept as a day of public thanksgiving. Maidstone was with him through the previous night, and thus reports his,j.utterances : " Truly God is good ; indeed he is ; he will not — " then' his speech failed him ; but, as I apprehend, it was, " He will not leave me." This saying, " God is good," he frequently used all along, and would speak it with much cheerfulness and fervor of spirit in the midst of his pains. Again he said, " I would be willing to live to be further serviceable to God and his people, but my work is done. Yet God will be with his people." He was very restless during most of the night, speaking often to himself. Something to drink was offered him, and he was desired to take it, and endeavor to compose himself to sleep ; but he re- fused, saying, " It is not my design to drink or to sleep, but my design is to make what haste I can to be gone." On the following morning he was speechless, and between three and four in tlie afternoon his light was quenched, and his great spirit went, as we trust, to that abode where there is neither war 84 Headley's Histories. [January, nor faction, and where the wicked cease from troubhng, and the weary are at rest. Such w^as the death of the man whom Hume and his contempo- raries dehght to hold up to the world as a deceiver and a canting hypocrite. Let the world do him more justice ! Carlyle says, — " I have asked myself if anywhere in modern European history, or even in ancient Asiatic, there was found a man practicing this mean world's affairs with a heart more filled by the idea of the Highest 1 Bathed in the eternal splendors, it is so he walks our dim earth. This man is one of few. He is projected with a terrible force out of the eternities, and in the tijnes and their arenas there is nothing that can withstand him." •62 A Sketch — First Impressions of Co 77 g Teg's. For the Melhodist Magazine and Cluarterly Review. A SKETCH. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF CONGRESS. It was fitting, indeed, that the city which was to be the capital of 'this great commonwealth, with its lofty mountains, its vast plains, its magnificent rivers, and, above all, its free and enlightened gov- ernment, should bear the name of him whose sword severed the political bonds which united us to the parent empire, and whose wisdom guided the councils of the nation, ere yet it arose to the strength of vigorous manhood. There is, therefore, something in the name of Washington which excites our veneration, connected as it is with all that is great, and noble, and exalted, apart from the lofty associations, which, as the city of the American Congress, arc clustered about it; but when it is remembered that here, from time to time, are assembled the favorites of the nation, the eloquence and wisdom, the learning and patriotism of a great and free people, we cease to wonder that Washington is invested with an interest which no other city among us can possess. It was, then, with no common feelings, that I first set foot in the city which bears the revered name of the greatest and best of men, and with the eye of a stranger surveyed the interesting scenes of which I had heard so much. It was during the late special session, and at a period of great political excitement, that I was set down at one of the principal hotels on the Pennsylvania Avenue. Below me was the splendid residence of the President of the United States, and above me, sur- mounting a gentle hill, which apparently rears its broad shoulders on purpose to receive it, stood that noble edifice, in which assem- 'bles the Congress of the nation. Its great size, lofty dome, and commanding position, made it the most imposing object in reach of the eye ; and as the banner of my country was proudly floating on either wing, indicating that both houses were in session, I sought at once the gratification of my long-cherished desires of visiting the capitol during a session of Congress. The weather was most delightful. The sun was pouring floods •of light and glory over the beautiful grounds at the western front; the air was still and balmy, and the fountain in the midst of the mall sent up its sparkling waters in the shorn rays of the October sun, and hung out its rainbow colors to allure the passing stranger. I paused, however, only for a moment, and hurried on up the steep of stairs to the outer corridor — thence by the naval monument arising from a stone basin of living water — thence under the heavy stone arches in the lower story of the capitol — up another case- ment of stone steps — and onward, till I suddenly found myself under the immense dome that canopies the vast rotunda. Here the statuary and paintings held me for a moment, and for a moment I paused to catch the echoes and re-echoes cast back from the vaulted roof and circular walls, and then hurried through another suite of narrow passages and dark stairways, till, immerging through an obscure door, I found myself at once in the circular - A' Sketch — First Impressions of Congress. 63' gallery of the House of Representatives, looking upon one of the most imposing scenes that my eyes ever beheld. What a noble hall ! how lofty the ceiling ! what an array of dark, variegated marble columns! The statuary, too, and the portraits — there the lamented Lafayette — and here the great, the good, the inimitable Washington. But above all, witness this vast assemblage, the representatives of our tweiitysix empire states! They are gathered from the four winds of heaven — here sits a Missourian from the land of bears and buifaloes, and there, by his side, a man bred up amid the luxuries and relinements of a popu- lous city — here is a sallow-faced representative from the rice grounds of the south, and there a ruddy farmer from the bleak hills and fertile valleys of the north; — there is a man from the prairies,, and another from the woods, and still another from the fishing grounds — here is the scholar from his cloister, the mechanic from his shop, the laborer from his field, the manufacturer from his ware- house, the merchant from his desk, the lawyer from bis office, the doctor from his laboratory, and even the minister from his pulpit. And from what vast distances have they gathered ! From Maine, and Florida, and Louisiana, and Missouri, and Wisconsin. They have traversed mountains, ascended great rivers, crossed immense prairies, penetrated thick forests, and been whirled over hundreds of miles of railroads, and passed through every variety of climate, to reach only the common centre of our common country : and yet they all speak one language, are animated with the same love of liberty, and are assembled under the same national banner to deli- berate for the good of our conunonwealth. What a glorious country ! how vast its extent ! how endless its resources ! Above all, what a picture of human freedom is here presented ! Here are no castes, no orders of knighthood or privi- leged nobility. The high-souled representative, whose bursts of manly eloquence now fill this noble hall and startle this mighty mass of mind, may, in another week, be a private citizen, retired upon his acres, or perhaps working in his shop. He who, with so much dignity, occupies the speaker's chair, and with a word directs the business and guides the deliberations of this proud assembly, will in a few days be on a level with the meanest citizen of Tennes- see ; — that venerable looking man, in the decline of life, and dressed in a brown frock coat, leaning his smooth bald head upon his hand, and looking with an air of abstraction upon the mass of papers before him, tho'ugh he be at present but the representative of a single congressional district in the " Bay State," was once at the head of this great republic, and stood on a footing with the proud- est monarchs of the old world. Wonderful country ! long may it remain to cherish the rights of man, and, like the dews of heaven, to dispense equal laws and equal justice to all. The Senate is a more dignified body than the House. The seats are farther asunder — the members older and more decorous. The Yall itself is less imposing in appearance; but as I sat in the gallery ani looked down upon the mighty intellects which were there assem- blel) aiid thought of the admirable machinery of our government, by vhich the sovereigntj^ of the states was recognized in this august asse'^bly, I felt an indescribable awe, a holy reverence, which the 64 A Sketch — First Impressions of Congress. other house had failed to inspire. Before me sat the representatives of twenty-six sovereign, independent states, chosen by their several legislatures for their learning, ability, and patriotism, and constitu- ting, without a shadow of doubt, the most enlightened and talented legislative body in the world. There, too, were the choice spirits which had so often elicited my admiration when at a distance. There was Johnson, the gallant colonel, sitting in the chair of the vice-president, with a frank, open, good-humored expression upon his countenance, which savored little of the far-famed Indian killer — and Webster too — I can see him now with his fine massive forehead, and full expressive eyes. He seems as " calm as a summer's morning," but arouse him and you startle a lion. What a voice ! what a countenance ! what solemnity of manner.! — and Clay — that tall, coarse looking man, with the broad, good-humored mouth, who leans so gracefully upon his desk, is the renowned senator from Kentucky. Mr. Wright, the courteous chairman of the committee on finance, is the plain, farmer-looking man, dressed in a brown coat, who rises so calmly to answer the fierce attack of the member who has just sat down. He is never excited, never passionate, never personal, but addresses himself to the business of the session with an industry and decorum worthy of all commendation. The tall, slender man, with a coun- tenance a little inclined to severity, is Mr. Calhoun, of South Carolina. How earnest his manner ! how strong and overwhelming his method ! But our space would fail to call up the stout-framed Benton, the eloquent Preston, and White, and Grundy, and Rives, and Buchanan, and Southard, and Wall, each a host within him- self, and fit to guide the destinies of a nation. And this, then, thought I, as I retraced my way to the Rotunda, is the Congress of the United States — the great forum of American eloquence ! Here resides the common sensorium, the great ganglion of our beautiful system, sending out its nerves into every county, and town, and village in this vast commonwealth, and sympa- thizing with every member, however distant or obscure. A single spark electrifies the whole — an injury at the extremity pervades the mass — and agitation in the centre shakes the extremities — "£ phiribus ununi" is written upon the whole. We are many in name, but one only in fact, one in government, one in interest, and one in destiny. May he w^hose spirit brooded over our infant councils, and crowned our early struggles with victory, still defend us against disunion, and lead us on to still greater degrees of prosperity and glory. S. G. A. Brooklyn, 1838. iiill ''ill