UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 A 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 PRONOUNCED AT THE REQUEST 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ESSEX HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 
 
 ON THE 18TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1828, 
 
 IN COMMEMORATION 
 
 OF THE FIRST SETTLEMENT OF SALEM, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 JOSEPH .STORY. 
 
 L 
 
 PUBLISHED AT THE REQUEST OF THE SOCIETY. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 MILLIARD, GRAY, LITTLE, AND WILKINS. 
 
 1828. 
 
 105*3 ^
 
 DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wit : 
 
 DISTRICT CLERK'S OFFICE. 
 
 BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the twenty-sixth day of September, A. D. 
 1828, and in the fifty-third year of the independence of the United States of 
 America, Hilliard, Gray, Little, & Wilkins, of said district, have deposited in 
 this office the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the 
 words following, to wit : " A Discourse pronounced at the Request of the 
 Essex Historical Society, on the 18th of September, 1828, in Commemoration 
 of the first Settlement of Salem, in the State of Massachusetts. By Joseph 
 Story." In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled 
 " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, 
 charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times 
 therein mentioned : " and also to an act, entitled " An act supplementary to an 
 act, entitled ' An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies 
 of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during 
 the times therein mentioned,' and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of 
 designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 
 
 JNO. W. DAVIS, 
 Clerk of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 BILLIARD, METCALF, AND COMPANY, 
 
 Printers to the University.
 
 DISCOURSE. 
 
 t 
 
 THERE are certain epochs in the history of 
 
 4 nations, which always attract to themselves a last- 
 ing interest. They constitute steps in the progress 
 or decline of empire, at which we involuntarily pause 
 
 5 to look back upon the past, or to spell out the for- 
 S tunes of the future. They become associated with 
 our inmost feelings and profoundest reflections. Our 
 
 imaginations embody the time, the place, and the 
 circumstances. We drop the intermediate distances 
 of space and years, which divide us from them. We 
 Breathe the very air and spirit of the age itself. We 
 gather up the fragments of broken facts, as history 
 or tradition has scattered them around us. We 
 arrange them with a fond solicitude ; and having 
 dressed them out in all the pride and pomp of fair 
 array, our hearts kindle at the contemplation ; and 
 we exult or mourn, glow with confidence, or bow 
 with humiliation, as they pass before us, and we 
 realize their connexion with ourselves, the glory 
 of our country, or the fate of the world. 
 
 385140
 
 Of memorable events, few awaken a more lively 
 curiosity than the origin of nations. Whence we 
 sprung, at what period, from what race, by what 
 causes, under what circumstances, for what objects, 
 are inquiries so natural, that they rise almost spon- 
 taneously in our minds ; and scarcely less so in the 
 humblest, than in the most exalted of society. They 
 are intimately connected with our pride, our char- 
 acter, our hopes, and our destiny. He, who may 
 look back upon a long line of illustrious ancestors, 
 cannot forget, that the blood, stirring in his own 
 veins, is drawn from a common source ; and that the 
 light, reflected by their virtues, casts upon his own 
 path a cheering, even though it may be a distant, 
 radiance. And he, who may not claim kindred with 
 the mighty dead, feels, that they are the common 
 inheritance of his country, and that he has a right to 
 share in their fame, and triumph in their achievements. 
 
 Nor let it be supposed, that this strong propen- 
 sity of our nature is attributable to the indulgence 
 of mere personal or national vanity. It has a higher 
 and better origin. It is closely interwoven with that 
 reverence and affection, with which we regard our 
 parents, and the patriarchs of our own times ; with 
 that gratitude, with which we follow the benefactors 
 of our race ; with that piety, which reads in every 
 event the superintendence of a wise and benevolent 
 Providence ; with that charity, which binds up our 
 interests in those of mankind at large ; with that 
 sympathy, which links our fate with that of all past 
 and future generations ; and with that sense of duty, 
 which the consciousness of trusts of unmeasured
 
 extent never fails to elevate and strengthen. Above 
 all, we are thus enabled to extract from remote events 
 that instruction, which the vicissitudes of human life 
 should press home to our own business and bosoms. 
 The toils and misfortunes incident to infant settle- 
 ments ; the slow progress even of successful effort ; 
 the patience, fortitude, and sagacity, by which evils 
 are overcome or diminished ; the fundamental causes, 
 which quicken or retard their growth; these all 
 furnish lessons, which improve the wise, correct the 
 rash, and alarm the improvident. 
 
 Two hundred years have just elapsed, since our 
 forefathers landed on these shores for the perma- 
 nent plantation of New-England. I say emphat- 
 ically, for the permanent plantation of New-England. 
 There had been before that period various adven- 
 turers, who from curiosity, or necessity, or hope of 
 gain, explored the coast ; but their purposes were 
 transient, or their stay short. There had been here 
 and there little establishments for fishery, or trade, 
 successively taken up and abandoned, from the rigors 
 of the climate, the unprofitableness of the employ- 
 ment, or the disappointments naturally following 
 upon such novel enterprises. Few persons (com- 
 paratively speaking) had turned their thoughts to this, 
 as a land favorable for the cultivation of the soil, or 
 the arts of social life. It promised little to the 
 European, who should leave his native country with 
 a fancy warm with descriptions of the luxuriance 
 of this western world, and hoping to pass the residue 
 of his life, as * one long summer day of indolence ' 
 and ease. It offered no mines glittering with gold
 
 6 
 
 and silver to tempt the avarice of the selfish, or to 
 stimulate the hopes of the ambitious. It presented 
 an irregular and rocky front, lashed by the waves of 
 a stormy ocean, and frowning with dark forests and 
 bleak promontories. Its rough and stubborn soil 
 yielded with reluctance to the labors of the husband- 
 man ; and the severities of a northern winter for 
 almost half the year stripped the earth of its 
 vegetation by its bitter blasts, or drifting snows. 
 It required stout hands and stouter hearts to 
 encounter such discouragements; to subdue the 
 ruggedness of nature, and to wait the slow returns, 
 which perseverance and industry alone could rea- 
 sonably hope to obtain. Men must have strong 
 motives to lead them, under such circumstances, to 
 such a choice. It was not an enterprise, which, 
 being conceived in a moment of rashness, might by 
 its quick success plead its own justification. It had 
 none of the allurements of power, or the indulgences 
 of pleasure, or the offerings of fame, to give it attrac- 
 tions. Higher motives, and deeper thoughts, such 
 as engross the passions and the souls of men, and 
 sink into comparative insignificance the comforts of 
 social life, are alone adequate to produce such re- 
 sults. One might well say, as Tacitus did of the 
 Germany of his own times,* 'Quis porro, praeter 
 periculum horridi et ignoti maris, Asia aut Africa 
 aut Italia relicta, Germaniam peteret, informem 
 terris, asperam coelo, tristem cultu aspectuque, nisi 
 si patria sit? ' Who, independently of the perils of a 
 
 * Hutchinson, in his History (vol. i. p. 2) cites the passage. It is from 
 Tacitus de Moribus Gcrmania, c. 2.
 
 terrific and unknown sea, would leave the soft cli- 
 mates of Asia, Africa, or Europe, and fix his abode 
 in a land rough and uncultivated, with an inclement 
 sky and a dreary aspect, unless indeed it were his 
 mother country 1 
 
 It should excite no surprise, therefore, that a 
 century had passed away after the Cabots discov- 
 ered the southern part of this continent, and yet the 
 Aborigines remained there in undisturbed security. 
 Even the neighbouring colony of Plymouth, where the 
 renowned Pilgrims, under Carver, Bradford, and 
 Winslow, had already raised the standard of liberty 
 and the cross, was encountering the severest trials, 
 and struggling almost for existence. There were 
 not a few friends, who began to entertain fears, 
 that unless succours came in from other quarters, this 
 noble band of worthies, worn down by hardships and 
 discouragements, might be destined, at no distant 
 period, to follow the fate of other adventurers, or be 
 reduced to a narrow factory.* Their original 
 scheme of colonization involved in it some fatal 
 defects, which were afterwards corrected by their 
 own wisdom and experience. The notion of a com- 
 munity of property and profits was utterly incompat- 
 ible with the growth of a state. It cut off at a blow 
 every excitement to individual enterprise ; and by 
 its unequal distribution of burthens and benefits 
 sowed far and wide the elements of discord. The 
 followers of the excellent Robinson might, indeed, 
 comfort themselves with the present possession of 
 
 * 2 Hutch. Hist. 468, 469, 470, 472, 476 ; Prince's Annals, 268 ; Robert- 
 son's America, book 10 ; 3 Hist. Collect. 417.
 
 8 
 
 a refuge from religious oppression ; but the possibil- 
 ity of a dissolution of their connexion at any period, 
 however remote, must, whenever it was suggested, 
 have filled their hearts with sorrow, and, even when 
 least indulged, sometimes have disturbed their peace. 
 Their own language in defence of their settlement at 
 Hartford affords a striking picture of their situation. 
 ' They lived upon a barren place, where they were 
 by necessity cast ; and neither they, nor theirs could 
 long continue upon the same ; and why should they 
 be deprived of that, which they had provided, and 
 intended to remove to, as soon as they were able 1 * 
 At the distance of ten years from their first landing, 
 the colony could scarcely number three hundred 
 inhabitants ; f a proof, at once, of the magnitude of 
 their difficulties, and of the heroic zeal and perse- 
 verance, which met them without shrinking or 
 dismay. 
 
 By the blessing of God, however, our Fathers 
 also came hither, and, in connexion with the good 
 ' Old Colony,' fixed henceforth, and, as we fondly 
 trust, for ever, the settlement and destiny of New- 
 England. And we are met, on the very spot first 
 trodden by their footsteps, on the very day first wel- 
 coming their arrival, to celebrate this memorable 
 event. It is fit, that we should so do. What occa- 
 sion could occur more worthy of our homage 1 
 What recollections could rise up, better adapted to 
 awaken our gratitude, cheer our hearts, and elevate 
 
 * 2 Hutch. Hist. 469, &c. 
 
 t Robertson's America, book x. p. 267 ; Chalmers's Annals, p. 97. See also 
 the Commissioners' Report in 1665 (3 Hutch. Collect. 417.)
 
 9 
 
 our thoughts ? Who is he that can survey this goodly 
 land, and not feel a present sense of its various 
 blessings ? Let him cast his eyes over our moun- 
 tains, or our vallies, our deep forests, or our culti- 
 vated plains. Let him visit our villages, and hamlets, 
 and towns, thickening on every side, and listen to 
 the sounds of busy, contented, thrifty industry. Let 
 him view the green meadows, and the waving fields, 
 and the rich orchards, rising under his eyes in alter- 
 nate order, yielding their products in profusion, and 
 quickened into fertility by the labors of man. Let 
 him hold communion w r ith the inhabitants of these 
 peaceful abodes, with the mountaineers, and peas- 
 ants, and yeomen, the lords of the soil, the reapers 
 of their own harvests, who look proudly down upon 
 their own inheritance. Let him learn from them 
 the resolute spirit, the manly virtues, the intelligence 
 and piety, which pervade New-England. Let him 
 glance at the neighbouring metropolis ; its splendid 
 spires glittering in the sun ; its noble hospitals and 
 public charities ; its crowded and well-built streets ; 
 its beautiful harbour, floating on its bosom the com- 
 merce of the world, and reflecting on its surface 
 islands, and islets, and shores of ever varying mag- 
 nificence ; its amphitheatre of hills, whose gentle 
 slopes whiten with neat mansions, or soften into 
 shade, under the joint ministry of nature and art ; 
 its lofty halls, where eloquence has burst forth in 
 strains of patriotism, which have made captive the 
 .souls of thousands ; its visible industry, and enter- 
 prise, and public spirit, gathering into the lap of a 
 common mother the products of all climates, and 
 2
 
 10 
 
 spreading out a generous hospitality. Let him catch 
 in the distant reach the walls of our venerable 
 University, cemented by the solid strength of cen- 
 turies, where learning and religion obtained their 
 early glory, and will, we trust, receive their latest 
 praise ; let !!him, I say, contemplate these scenes, 
 and survey this goodly heritage, and who is he, even 
 though a stranger to us and ours, whose voice shall 
 not eagerly ask our lineage, our ancestry, our age ? 
 Who is he, that here inhales his natal air, and embraces 
 his mother earth, and does not rejoice, that he was 
 born for this day, and is privileged to pour out his 
 thanks, and offer up his prayers at the home of his 
 forefathers 1 
 
 To us, indeed, who own the local genius, and 
 feel the inspirations of the place, the day may well 
 be presumed to be crowded with thick-coming fan- 
 cies and joyance. We may not turn our eyes on 
 any side without meeting objects to revive the im- 
 ages of the primitive times. We can still realize 
 the fidelity of the description of the voyager of 1 629, 
 who said, * We passed the curious and difficult en- 
 trance into the large, spacious harbour of Naimkeake ; 
 and as we passed along, it was wonderful to behold 
 so many islands replenished with thick wood, and 
 high trees, and many fair green pastures.' The 
 woods have disappeared ; but the islands and the 
 fair green pastures remain with more than native 
 beauty ; and the rivers still meander in their early 
 channels. This * city of peace,' so called by our 
 fathers, as significant of their enjoyment of civil and 
 religious freedom, still boasts its ancient name ; still
 
 11 
 
 justifies the original allusion to the scriptures, ' In 
 Salem also is God's tabernacle, and his dwelling- 
 place in Zion.'* The thin and scattered settlements 
 can no longer be traced. But in their stead are 
 found spacious streets, and neat dwellings, and lively 
 schools, and numerous churches, and busy marts, 
 and all the fair accompaniments of opulence and 
 knowledge, simplicity of life and manners, unobtru- 
 sive refinement, and social kindness. Yet in the 
 midst of these blessed changes, we can point out 
 the very spot, where the first flock was gathered, 
 and the first church consecrated to the service of the 
 living God ; where the meek and learned Higgin- 
 son (alas, how soon to perish !) first raised his voice 
 in prayer, and with trembling lips, and pale cheeks, 
 where sorrow and sickness had worn many an early 
 furrow, discoursed most eloquently of life, and 
 death, and immortality, the triumphs of faith, and 
 the rewards of obedience. Yes, it is still devoted 
 to the same holy purpose. There, the voice of 
 praise, and thanksgiving, and prayer still ascends 
 from pious hearts ; there, the doctrines of salvation 
 are still preached with enlightened zeal and charity ; 
 there, the humble, the contrite, and the pure still 
 assemble in sweet communion, and worship God in 
 spirit and in truth. f The sepulchres of our fore- 
 fathers are also among us. We can trace them 
 through all their various labors to their last appointed 
 home ; ' sedes ubi fata quietas ostendunt.' Time 
 
 * 1 Historical Collections, 117; Psalm Ixxvi. 
 
 f See the excellent dedication sermon of the Rev. Mr Upham, one of the 
 Pastors of this church, in November, 1826.
 
 12 
 
 has not yet levelled the incumbent sod, nor the moss 
 overgrown the frail memorials erected to their 
 worth. But their noblest monument is around us, 
 and before us. Their deeds speak their eulogy in 
 a manner, which it requires no aid of language to 
 heighten. They live in their works, not indeed in 
 the perishable structures of human skill, in marble 
 domes or triumphal arches, in temples or in palaces, 
 the wonders of art ; but in the enduring institutions, 
 which they created, in the principles, which they 
 taught, and by which they sought to live, and for which 
 they were ready to die. On these they laid the 
 solid foundations of our strength and glory ; and on 
 these, if on any thing human, may be written the 
 words of immortality. Our graveyards offer no 
 better epitaph for them, than that, Here lie the 
 Founders of New-England ; and brief though it be, 
 and of simple phrase, it has a pregnant meaning, the 
 extent of which no human mind has yet grasped. It 
 can be unfolded only with the destiny of our latest 
 posterity. 
 
 May I venture on some allusions not unbecoming 
 this occasion, and yet of a nature somewhat personal, 
 though not, I trust, obtrusive. I speak in the pres- 
 ence of the descendants of these men. Their names 
 sound with familiar welcome in our streets, and 
 greet us on every side, as we pass along. They 
 seem to live again in their offspring. Their images 
 grace our processions, and throng our churches, and 
 enliven our festivals. We feel almost as in their 
 conscious presence, and listen to the voices of other 
 days. When in the enthusiasm of poetry we are
 
 13 
 
 asked, ' And the pilgrims, where are they 1 ' Where 
 are Winthrop, and Endicott, and Higginson, and Dud- 
 ley, and Saltonstall, and Bradstreet, and Pickering, 
 and Sprague, and Pynchon, and Hathorne, and Co- 
 nant, and Woodbury, and Palfrey, and Balch, and the 
 other worthies 1 We are ready to exclaim, They 
 are here. This is their home. These are their 
 children. 
 
 There is yet among us One, who brings their 
 revered forms before us with peculiar dignity, and 
 is at once the representative of their age and our 
 own. Generation after generation has passed away, 
 and yet he survives, the model, and the monument 
 of a century. His early youth almost clasped the 
 knees of the pilgrims. He was familiar with their 
 sons, and listened to their story from the lips of those, 
 who painted with the vividness of contemporaries, 
 and with the feelings of Puritans. Standing upon 
 the very verge of the first century, he seems the 
 living herald of the first settlers, breathing into our 
 souls their very words and sentiments, as one, who 
 speaks not for the dead, but for those, who yet so- 
 journ on the earth. Time in his favor has relaxed 
 his wonted course, and touched even the faded 
 graces of the past with a kind and mellowing charm. 
 If one were to task his imagination to portray a 
 patriarch of primitive simplicity, warmed with the 
 refinements of these latter days, he could scarcely 
 clothe the being of his own creation with other 
 qualities than we have seen. He could not fail to 
 point out to us a form, venerable for wisdom, learning, 
 and modesty, in which the spirit of philosophy and
 
 14 
 
 benevolence was sustained by meekness and piety ; 
 in which blamelessness of life, cheerfulness of heart, 
 and gratitude for past blessings, imparted solid lustre 
 to a faith, and hope, and joy, resting upon immor- 
 tality. Well may it be asked of such a being in the 
 tender language of Scripture, * And the old man, of 
 whom ye spake, is he yet alive 1 ' Your own hearts 
 have already answered the question. We have seen 
 this centennial patriarch ; and we count it among 
 the triumphs of this day, that he yet lives, the delight 
 of his friends, the crown of his profession, and the 
 ornament of human nature. 
 
 Such are some of the circumstances and associa- 
 tions, belonging to the festival, which has assembled 
 us together. I am but too sensible, how utterly 
 inadequate my own powers are to meet the exigen- 
 cies of such a day. I have not been unconscious 
 of the difficulties of the task ; and I now stand here 
 with sincere self-distrust, having yielded to a sense 
 of duty, what I should gladly have declined, if left 
 to my own choice. After all, however, the occasion 
 carries along with it its own means of gratification, 
 in the thoughts of home, and kindred, and ancestry, 
 and country, which rise in every heart, and hang on 
 every tongue. If I falter in the course, I may well 
 share this consolation, since a common sympathy 
 must disarm the severity of criticism. 
 
 Many topics, appropriate to this celebration, have 
 already been discussed by others in a manner, which 
 does not require, even if it should admit of farther 
 illustration. The genius of New England has em- 
 ployed some of its best efforts to add dignity to
 
 15 
 
 the scene. History and tradition have been laid 
 under contribution to adorn the narrative ; and phi- 
 losophy itself, while studying the events, has unfold- 
 ed speculations, as profound and engrossing, as any, 
 which can engage the human mind. I profess not 
 the rashness to follow in the high course thus marked 
 out; content to walk in the ancient paths, and to 
 gather, as I may, the gleanings of a harvest, which 
 has so amply rewarded the labors of my predeces- 
 sors. 
 
 My object is to furnish you with a brief sketch 
 of the origin of the colony ; of the motives, which 
 led to the enterprise ; of the characters of the men, 
 who conducted it ; of the principles, upon which it 
 was established ; and of the grand results, which it 
 has hitherto developed. I shall also adventure upon 
 some topics, where the conduct of our ancestors 
 has been severely put to question ; and without at- 
 tempting to disguise their mistakes, I trust, that 
 something may be said to rescue their memories 
 from unmerited reproaches. 
 
 If the origin of nations be, as it confessedly is, a 
 source of deep interest, there are circumstances 
 connected with the first settlement of New- England 
 peculiarly to gratify a national pride. We do not 
 trace ourselves back to times of traditionary dark- 
 ness, where truth and fiction are blended at every 
 step, and what remains, after the closest investiga- 
 tion, is but conjecture, or shadowy fact. We do not 
 rely upon the arts of the poet to give dignity to the 
 narrative, and invest it with the colorings of his 
 imagination. Greece might delight to trace her
 
 16 
 
 origin up to the high renown and antiquity of 
 Egypt ; and Rome soothe herself with her rise from 
 the smouldering ruins of Troy. We have no legends, 
 which genius may fashion into its own forms, and 
 crowd with imaginary personages. Such as it is, 
 our history lies far within the reach of the authentic 
 annals of mankind. It has been written by contem- 
 poraries with a simplicity, which admits of no em- 
 bellishment, and a fidelity, which invites scrutiny. 
 The records are before us, sketched by the first 
 adventurers ; and there we may learn all their wan- 
 derings and cares, and sufferings and hopes, their 
 secret thoughts and their absorbing motives. We 
 can ask of the world no credit for modern state- 
 ments of old events. We can conceal nothing ; and 
 our true glory is, that there is nothing, which we 
 wish to conceal. And yet, I think, whoever shall 
 read these annals in their minute details ; whoever 
 shall bring home to his thoughts the causes and 
 consequences of these events ; whoever shall watch 
 the struggles of conscience against the seductions 
 of affection, and the pressure of dangers ; will feel 
 his soul touched with a moral sublimity, which 
 poetry itself could not surpass. So mighty is truth ; 
 so irresistible is the voice of nature. 
 
 Take but a single passage in their lives, the open- 
 ing scene of that drama, on which we seem but just 
 to have entered. Go back, and meet the first de- 
 tachment, the little band, which, under the guidance 
 of the worthy, intelligent, and intrepid Endicott, 
 landed on the^ neighbouring shore. It was then, as 
 it is now, the early advance of autumn. What can
 
 17 
 
 be more beautiful or more attractive, than this season 
 in New-England? The sultry heat of summer has pass- 
 ed away ; and a delicious coolness at evening succeeds 
 the genial warmth of the day. The labors of the hus- 
 bandman approach their natural termination ; and he 
 gladdens with the near prospect of his promised re- 
 ward. The earth swells with the increase of vegeta- 
 tion. The fields wave with their yellow and luxuriant 
 harvests. The trees put forth their darkest foliage, 
 half shading and half revealing their ripened fruits, 
 to tempt the appetite of man, and proclaim the good- 
 ness of his Creator. Even in scenes of another 
 sort, where nature reigns alone in her own majesty, 
 there is much to awaken religious enthusiasm. As 
 yet the forests stand clothed in their dress of unde- 
 cayed magnificence. The winds, that rustle through 
 their tops, scarcely disturb the silence of the shades 
 below. The mountains and the vallies glow in warm 
 green, or lively russet. The rivulets flow on with a 
 noiseless current, reflecting back the images of many 
 a glossy insect, that dips his wings in their cooling 
 waters. The mornings and evenings are still vocal 
 with the notes of a thousand warblers, who plume 
 their wings for a later flight. Above all, the clear 
 blue sky, the long and sunny calms, the scarcely 
 whispering breezes, the brilliant sunsets, lit up with 
 all the wondrous magnificence of light and shade 
 and color, and slowly settling down into a pure and 
 transparent twilight ; These, these are days and 
 scenes, which even the cold cannot behold without 
 emotion ; but on which the meditative and pious 
 gaze with profound admiration ; for they breathe of 
 holier and happier regions beyond the grave. 
 3
 
 18 
 
 But lovely as is this autumn, so finely characteriz- 
 ed as the Indian Summer of New-England, and so 
 favorably contrasting itself with the chills and mois- 
 ture of the British Isles, let us not imagine, that it 
 appeared to these Pilgrims, as it does to us, clothed 
 in smiles. Their first steps on this continent were 
 doubtless with that buoyancy of spirit, which relief 
 from the tediousness and dangers of a sea voyage 
 naturally excites. But, think you, that their first 
 hasty glances around them did not bring some anxie- 
 ties for the future, and some regrets for the past I 
 They were in the midst of a wilderness, untrodden 
 by civilized man. The native forests spread around 
 them, with only here and there a detached glade, 
 which the Indian tomahawk had levelled, or the 
 fisherman cleared for his temporary hut. There were 
 no houses inviting to repose ; no fields ripening with 
 corn ; no cheerful hearths ; no welcoming friends ; 
 no common altars. The heavens, indeed, shone fair 
 over their heads ; and the earth beneath was rich in 
 its beauties. But where was their home ? Where 
 were those comforts and endearments, which that 
 little word crowds into our hearts in the midst of the 
 keenest sufferings? Where were the objects, to 
 which they might cling to relieve their thoughts from 
 the sense of present desolation? If there were 
 some, who could say with an exile of the succeeding 
 year, * We rested that night with glad and thankful 
 hearts, that God had put an end to our long and 
 tedious journey through the greatest sea in the 
 world ;'* there were many, whose pillows were wet 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 44.
 
 19 
 
 with bitter, though not repentant, tears. Many a 
 father offered his evening prayer with trembling ac- 
 cents ; many a mother clasped her children to her 
 bosom in speechless agony. The morrow came ; 
 but it brought no abatement of anxiety. It was 
 rather a renewal of cares, of sad reminiscences, of 
 fearful forebodings. 
 
 This is no idle picture of the fancy, tricked out 
 for effect, to move our sympathies, or blind us to the 
 real facts. How could their situation be otherwise 1 
 They were not fugitives from justice, seeking to bury 
 themselves and their crimes in some remote corner 
 of the earth. They were not prodigals, endeavouring 
 to retrieve their wrecked fortunes in distant adven- 
 tures. They were not idle and luxurious wanderers, 
 weary of society, and panting for unexplored novel- 
 ties. They had left a country full of the refinements 
 of social life, and dear to them by every human tie. 
 There were the tombs of their ancestors ; there the 
 abodes of their friends ; of mothers, who kissed their 
 pale cheeks on the seashore ; of sisters, who wrung 
 their hands in sharp distress ; of children, who dropped 
 upon their knees, and asked a blessing at parting, 
 ay, at parting for ever. There was the last, linger- 
 ing embrace ; there the last sight of the white cliffs 
 of England, which had faded from their straining 
 gaze, for time, and for eternity. There for the last 
 time were uttered from their broken voices, ' Fare- 
 well, dear England ; farewell, the church of God in 
 England ; farewell, all Christian friends there.' * 
 
 Eliot's Dictionary, Art. Higginson, 252.
 
 20 
 
 They were now landed on other shores. The 
 excitements of the voyage were gone. Three thou- 
 sand miles of ocean rolled between them and the 
 country they had left ; and every illusion of hope 
 had vanished before the sober realities of a wilder- 
 ness. They had now full leisure for reflection, 
 
 . . . . ' while busy, meddling memory, 
 In barbarous succession mustered up 
 The past endearments of their softer hours, 
 Tenacious of its theme.' 
 
 There is nothing so depressing in exile, as that 
 sickness of the heart, which comes over us with the 
 thoughts of a lost, distant home. There is nothing, 
 which softens the harsh features of nature, like the 
 feeling, that this is our country. The exiles of New- 
 England saw not before them either a home, or a 
 country. Both were to be created. 
 
 If the past could bring few consolations, the fu- 
 ture was not without its embarrassments. The 
 season was passed, in which any addition could be 
 made to their scanty stock of provisions from the 
 produce of the soil. No succours could reach them 
 until the ensuing spring ; and even then, they were 
 subject to many contingencies. The winter must 
 soon approach with its bleak winds, and desolating 
 storms. The wild beasts were in the woods ; and 
 the scarcely less savage Indians lurked in the rav- 
 ines, or accosted them with questionable friendship. 
 Trees were to be felled, and houses built, and forti- 
 fications arranged, as well for shelter as for safety ; 
 and brief was the space, and feeble the means to 
 accomplish these necessary defences. Beyond these
 
 21 
 
 were the unknown dangers of change of climate, 
 and new habits of life, and scanty food ; of the pes- 
 tilence, that walketh in darkness, and the famine, 
 that wasteth at noonday. These were discourage- 
 ments, which might well appal the timid, and subdue 
 the rash. It is not, then, too much to affirm again, 
 that it required stout hands and stouter hearts to 
 overcome such difficulties. But 
 
 * If misfortune comes, she brings along 
 The bravest virtues.' 
 
 The men, who landed here, were no ordinary men ; 
 the motive for their emigration was no ordinary 
 motive ; and the glory of their achievement has few 
 parallels in the history of the world. Their perse- 
 verance in the midst of hardships, their firmness in 
 the midst of dangers, their patience in the midst of 
 sufferings, their courage in the midst of disasters, 
 their unconquerable spirit, their unbending adhe- 
 rence to their principles, their steady resistance of 
 all encroachments, surprise us even more than the 
 wisdom of their plans, and the success of their 
 operations. 
 
 If we trace on the colony during the two or three 
 next succeeding years, in which it received an ac- 
 cession of almost two thousand persons, we shall find 
 abundant reason to distrust those early descriptions, of 
 which the just complaint was, that ' honest men, out 
 of a desire to draw over others to them, wrote some- 
 what hyperbolically of many things here,' and ' by 
 their too large commendations of the country, and 
 the commodities thereof, so strongly invited others
 
 22 
 
 to go on;'* and to express our astonishment, that 
 the enterprise was not instantly abandoned. Many 
 of those, who accompanied Endicott, died in the 
 ensuing winter by disease from exposure, and want 
 of food, and suitable medical assistance. They were 
 reinforced in the next summer by new colonists 
 with fresh supplies ; and again in the succeeding 
 year, when the Corporation itself was also removed 
 under the auspices of Winthrop, Dudley, Johnson, 
 Saltonstall, and others. What was then the state of 
 the Colony 1 We are told by a friend and eye -wit- 
 ness f *We found the Colony,' says he, * in a sad 
 and unexpected condition; above eighty of them' 
 (that is, more than one quarter of the whole number) 
 * being dead the winter before ; and many of those 
 alive weak and sick ; all the corn and bread amongst 
 them all hardly sufficient to feed them a fortnight.' 
 He adds, * If any come hither to plant for worldly 
 ends, that can live well at home, he commits an 
 rror, of which he will soon repent him.' * In a 
 word, we have little to be envied ; but endure much 
 to be pitied in the sickness and mortality of our 
 people.' And then in the conclusion of this memo- 
 rable letter he breaks out with the unconquerable 
 spirit of Puritanism * We are left a people poor, 
 and contemptible ; yet such as trust in God ; and 
 are contented with our own condition, being well 
 assured, that he will not fail us, nor forsake us.' 
 Men, who were thus prepared to encounter such 
 distresses, were prepared for every thing. The 
 
 * Governor Dudley's Letter, 3 Hist. Coll. 36/38, 43. 
 t Id. Ibid. p. 38.
 
 23 
 
 stake had no terrors for them ; and earth had no re- 
 wards, which could for a moment withdraw them 
 from the dictates of conscience and duty. 
 
 This year was, indeed, still more disastrous than 
 the preceding, and robbed them of some of their 
 brightest ornaments. Before December the grave 
 had closed upon two hundred of their number ; and 
 among these were some of the most accomplished 
 of both sexes. It is impossible, even at this distance 
 of time, to contemplate their character and fate r 
 without the deepest sympathy. Higginson, the re- 
 vered and beloved teacher of the first flock, fell 
 an early victim, in the forty-third year of his age, 
 and the first of his ministry. Let me pause for a 
 moment to pay a passing tribute to his worth. He 
 received his education at Emanuel College in Cam- 
 bridge, where he was so much distinguished by his 
 talents, acquirements, and scholarship, that he gain- 
 ed an early introduction into a benefice of the church.. 
 The arguments of Hildersham and Hooker, however^ 
 soon infused scruples into his mind respecting the 
 doctrines and discipline of the establishment, and 
 he was ejected for nonconformity. He then taught 
 a few pupils for the maintenance of his family ; and 
 having received an invitation to remove to New- 
 England, in the hope of restoring his health, and 
 animated by the glorious prospect of a free enjoy- 
 ment (as he expresses it) < of the true religion and 
 holy ordinances of Almighty God,' he embarked with 
 his family in the Talbot in 1629. In the course of 
 the voyage he had the misfortune to lose one of his 
 daughters, of whose death he gives us an account in
 
 24 
 
 his journal, drawn up with a simplicity beautifully 
 illustrative of his own character. * And so,' says 
 he, ' it was God's will the child died about five 
 o'clock at night, being the first in our ship, that was 
 buried in the bowels of the great Atlantic sea; 
 which, as it was a great grief to us, her parents, and 
 a terror to all the rest, as being the beginning of a 
 contagious disease and mortality, so in the same 
 judgment it pleased God to remember mercy in the 
 child, in forcing it from a world of misery, wherein 
 she had lived all her days.' And, after an allusion to 
 her personal infirmities, he concludes, * So that in 
 respect of her we had cause to take her death as a 
 blessing from the Lord to shorten her misery.'* 
 Alas ! he was destined too soon to follow her. Not 
 many months elapsed before a consumption settled 
 on his cheeks, and by its hectic flushes betrayed an 
 irretrievable decline. He died with the composure, 
 resignation, and Christian confidence of a saint, 
 leaving behind him a character, in which learning, 
 benignity of manners, purity of life, fervent piety, 
 and unaffected charity, were blended with most at- 
 tractive grace ; and his name is enrolled among the 
 earliest and truest benefactors of New-England. 
 
 A death scarcely less regretted, and which follow- 
 ed with a fearful rapidity, was that of a lady of noble 
 birth, elegant accomplishments, and exemplary vir- 
 tues. I speak of the Lady Arabella Johnson,f a 
 daughter of the Earl of Lincoln, who accompanied 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 32, 36. 
 
 J- Her name is commonly spelt in the records of that day, possibly as au 
 abbreviation, ' Arbelk."
 
 25 
 
 her husband in the embarkation under Winthrop, and 
 in honor of whom, the admiral ship on that occasion 
 was called by her name. She died in a very short 
 time after her arrival ; and lies buried near the 
 neighbouring shore. No stone or other memorial 
 indicates the exact place ; but tradition has preserv- 
 ed it with a holy reverence. The remembrance of 
 her excellence is yet fresh in all our thoughts ; and 
 many a heart still kindles with admiration of her vir- 
 tues ; and many a bosom heaves with sighs at her 
 untimely end. What, indeed, could be more touch- 
 ing than the fate of such a woman ? What example 
 more striking than hers, of uncompromising affection 
 and piety 1 Born in the lap of ease, and surrounded 
 by affluence ; with every prospect which could make 
 hope gay, and fortune desirable ; accustomed to the 
 splendors of a court, and the scarcely less splendid 
 hospitalities of her ancestral home ; she was yet 
 content to quit, what has, not inaptly, been termed 
 * this paradise of plenty and pleasure,' for ' a wilder- 
 ness of wants,' and with a fortitude superior to the 
 delicacies of her rank and sex, to trust herself to an 
 unknown ocean and a distant climate, that she might 
 partake, with her husband, the pure and spiritual 
 worship of God. To the honor, to the eternal 
 honor of her sex, be it said, that in the path of duty 
 no sacrifice is with them too high, or too dear. 
 Nothing is with them impossible, but to shrink from 
 what love, honor, innocence, religion, requires. The 
 voice of pleasure or of power may pass by unheed- 
 ed ; but the voice of affliction never. The chamber 
 of the sick, the pillow of the dying, the vigils of the 
 4
 
 26 
 
 dead, the altars of religion, never missed the pres- 
 ence or the sympathies of woman. Timid though 
 she be, and so delicate, that the winds of heaven 
 may not too roughly visit her ; on such occasions 
 she loses all sense of danger, and assumes a preter- 
 natural courage, which knows not, and fears not 
 consequences. Then she displays that undaunted 
 spirit, which neither courts difficulties, nor evades 
 them ; that resignation, which utters neither murmur 
 nor regret ; and that patience in suffering, which 
 seems victorious even over death itself. 
 
 The Lady Arabella perished in this noble under- 
 taking, of which she seemed the ministering angel ; 
 and her death spread universal gloom throughout 
 the colony. Her husband was overwhelmed with 
 grief at the unexpected event, and survived her but 
 a single month. Governor Winthrop has pronoun- 
 ced his eulogy in one short sentence. * He was a holy 
 man, and wise, and died in sweet peace.' He was 
 truly the idol of the people ; and the spot selected 
 by himself for his own sepulture became consecrated 
 in their eyes ; so that many left it as a dying request, 
 that they might be buried by his side. Their re- 
 quest prevailed ; and the Chapel Burying-ground 
 in Boston, which contains his remains, became from 
 that time appropriated to the repose of the dead.* 
 Perhaps the best tribute to this excellent pair is, that 
 time, which, with so unsparing a hand, consigns 
 statesmen and heroes, and even sages to oblivion, 
 
 * 1 Hutch. Hist. 16 ; 1 Winthrop's Journal, 34 ; Eliot's Dictionary, Art. 
 Johnson.
 
 27 
 
 has embalmed the memory of their worth, and pre- 
 served it among the choicest of New-England relics. 
 It can scarcely be forgotten, but with the annals of 
 our country. 
 
 I have dwelt with some particularity, perhaps 
 with undue solicitude, upon some of the circumstan- 
 ces attending the emigration of our forefathers. 
 They are necessary to a full comprehension of the 
 difficulties of the enterprise, and of the sufferings, 
 which they bore, I will not say with fortitude merely, 
 but with cheerful, unrepining resolution. It is not 
 by a few set phrases, or a few strong touches, that 
 we can paint their sorrows, or their struggles, their 
 calmness, when their friends were falling around 
 them, and themselves were placed at the 
 
 ' dreadful post 
 
 Of observation, darker every hour ; ' 
 
 or their courage at the approach of dangers of another 
 sort. Many of them went down to an early grave 
 without the consolation even in vision of an ulti- 
 mate triumph ; and many, who lived to partake it, 
 grappled with hardships, the plain recital of which 
 would appal more than the most studied exaggera- 
 tions of rhetoric. But (let me repeat it) thanks 
 be to God, their efforts were successful. They 
 laid the foundations of empire in these northern 
 regions with slow and thoughtful labor. Our rever- 
 ence for their services should rest, not upon the fic- 
 tions of fancy, but upon a close survey of their means 
 and their ends, their motives and their lives, their 
 characters and their actions. And I am much mis- 
 taken, if that close survey does not invigorate our
 
 28 
 
 patriotism, confirm our principles, and deepen and 
 widen the channels of our gratitude. 
 
 The history of colonies, both in ancient and mod- 
 ern times, may be generally traced back to the 
 ambition of princes, the love of adventure or gain, 
 the pressure of poverty, or the necessity of a refuge 
 from political oppressions. The ancient nations, for 
 the most part, transplanted colonies to distant re- 
 gions, to extend the boundaries of their power, and 
 consolidate their strength. They were sometimes 
 outposts of the empire, to hold in check a conquer- 
 ed province, and sometimes military stations to over- 
 awe and watch a formidable rival. The beautiful 
 regions of Asia Minor were peopled with Grecian 
 tribes, by the attractions of a fertile soil and delicious 
 climate, by the passion for conquest, by the tempta- 
 tions of eastern luxury, and by the ostracisms of 
 successive factions. Rome gathered them within the 
 folds of her ample domain, as the booty of her arms ; 
 and pushed her own colonies only where tribute 
 was to be exacted, or distant conquests secured. 
 The whole line of her colonies in Gaul, Germany, 
 and the North, were but a chain of military commu- 
 nications to intercept the inroads of the barbarians, 
 and furnish employment for leaders and legions too 
 restless and too ambitious for civil life. They were 
 at once the sources of her power, and her Aveakness. 
 To them Rome was every thing ; and the colonies 
 they occupied, nothing, except as resources and de- 
 pots to command the republic, or dictate the succes- 
 sion to the imperial purple. The Capitol was but too 
 often obedient to the will of a provincial commander, 
 and a licentious soldiery.
 
 29 
 
 The colonies of modern nations owe their origin 
 almost exclusively to the spirit of commerce. If 
 power has mixed itself among the objects of their 
 governments, it has rather been, as a consequence of 
 commerce, than an independent motive. Ships, 
 commerce, and colonies were so long associated in 
 the minds of European statesmen, that they seemed 
 inseparable accompaniments. Hence arose that 
 system of monopoly, which narrowed down all trade 
 to the mother country, and stinted the growth and 
 crippled the resources of the colonies to the measure 
 of the wants of the former. All Europe, as if by a 
 general conspiracy, acted up to the very letter of this 
 system for centuries. The general practice was, 
 like that attributed to the Dutch in respect to the 
 Spice Islands, to destroy all the surplus, beyond 
 that which would yield the established rate of profits. 
 The South American colonies of France, Spain, and 
 Portugal were hermetically sealed against the ap- 
 proach of foreign ships, until the mighty revolutions 
 of our day crumbled the whole system into dust, 
 and opened, almost like an earthquake, a pathway 
 through their interior. Even England relaxed her 
 grasp with a slow and reluctant caution, yielding 
 little, except to necessity, indifferent to the colonial 
 interests, and solicitous only that the home market 
 should gather up and distribute all the profits and 
 products of the Indies. Her famous navigation acts, 
 the boast of her statesmen from the times of Crom- 
 well down to ours, are an undisguised appropriation 
 of the means of the colonies to the policy of the 
 mother country. She generally left the plantations
 
 30 
 
 to the private enterprise of her subjects, until their 
 trade was worthy of her interference ; and she then 
 assumed the government and regulation of them for 
 her own and not for their benefit. Protection be- 
 came a duty only at the time when it seemed no 
 longer a burthen. Her vast empire in the East, the 
 wonder of our day, whose fate furnishes a problem, 
 not to be solved by any former experience, is but 
 the ill-managed contrivance of a private corporation 
 for trade. It affords a curious example of the spirit 
 of conquest engrafted on the spirit of commerce ; 
 of a government founded on calculations of pro- 
 fit; of a legislation acting on the industry of sixty 
 millions of subjects, wholly without representation ; 
 of a judicial establishment seeking to administer 
 justice by appeals to an unknown code, with entire 
 good faith, but wholly inadequate means ; of a polit- 
 ical superintendence, which guards against external 
 violence, but which sits down contented, while prov- 
 inces are plundered, and thrones are overturned, in 
 wars brought on by the encroachments of commerce. 
 The colonies planted on the continent of North 
 America, were in a great measure the offspring of 
 private adventure and enterprise, and, with a single 
 exception, of the spirit of commerce. That excep- 
 tion is New-England; and it is an exception as 
 extraordinary as it is honorable. We owe our ex- 
 istence to the love of religion ; and, I may say, 
 exclusively to the love of religion. I am aware, that 
 the council of Plymouth had profitable objects in 
 view, and that capital was first embarked, and a 
 charter obtained to accomplish these ends. But the
 
 31 
 
 scheme had little chance of success, and was in fact 
 suspended, if not entirely abandoned. The first 
 settlement at Plymouth was made solely from mo- 
 tives of religion without any charter, and even with- 
 out any title to the land. And it was not until the 
 charter of 1628 was obtained, by men whose whole 
 hearts were devoted to religion, that the same im- 
 pulse effected the colonization of Massachusetts. 
 This is not left to tradition ; but is the sober truth of 
 history, unquestioned, because unquestionable. It 
 has the highest record evidence in its support. It 
 has, if possible, even weightier proofs, in the public 
 acts of the colony ; in our past and existing institu- 
 tions ; in the very errors, as well as the virtues of 
 our forefathers. They w r ere Christians ; they were 
 Puritans ; they were Christians persecuted by Chris- 
 tians ; they were Puritans driven into exile by the 
 priesthood. 
 
 The influence of religion upon the human charac- 
 ter, is one of the most interesting studies in the 
 history of our race. But the influence of Christian- 
 ity, whether viewed in respect to the extent of its 
 reach, or the nature of its operations, is the most 
 instructive of all speculations, which can employ the 
 intellect of man. Paganism was indulgent in its 
 general policy, for it taught little of duty, and claim- 
 ed no exclusive possession of the oracles, or even 
 of the favor of its divinities. In truth, it floated round 
 the mind with a loose and indeterminate credit, and 
 easily admitted into its temples the worship of strange 
 gods ; sometimes because their favor might be pro- 
 pitiated, or their vengeance averted ; sometimes,
 
 32 
 
 perhaps, because the relative power, superiority, 
 and office of each might not be well adjusted in their 
 mythology. Quarrels and divisions about faith and 
 doctrines, were of very rare occurrence in the Heath- 
 en world ; for their religion dealt more in rites and 
 ceremonies, than in fixed belief.* There would be 
 little inclination for public struggles, where rewards 
 and punishments were supposed to be administered, 
 not according to desert, but according to the favor, 
 to the passions, and even to the animosities of their di- 
 vinities. There could be little responsibility cher- 
 ished, where acts, offensive to some, might on that 
 very account be grateful to others, of their gods. 
 Gibbon's splendid description of the Roman religion 
 is true of nearly the whole ancient world. ' The 
 various modes of worship, which prevailed in the 
 Roman world, were all considered by the people, as 
 equally true ; by the philosopher, as equally false ; 
 and by the magistrate, as equally useful. And thus 
 toleration produced, not only mutual indulgence, but 
 even religious concord.' f 
 
 Far different is the case with Christianity. It 
 propounds no equivocal doctrines. It recognises 
 no false or foreign gods. It allows no idolatrous 
 worship. It presents to all men, one Supreme Being 
 the only proper object of worship, unchangeable, 
 infinite, omniscient, all-wise, all-good, all-powerful, 
 all-merciful, the God of all, and the Father of all. 
 It developes one complete system of duties, fit for 
 all times, and all stations ; for the monarch on his 
 
 * Bacon's Essays ; 2 Bacon's Works, 257. 
 
 1 1 Gibbon's Hist. ch. 2, p. 46 ; Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws, b. 25, ch. 15.
 
 33 
 
 throne, and the peasant in his cottage. It brings 
 all men to the same level, and measures all by the 
 same standard. It humbles in the dust the proud 
 and the arrogant ; it gives no heed to the glory of 
 princes, or conquerors, or nobles. It exalts the lowly 
 virtues, the love of peace, charity, humility, forgive- 
 ness, resignation, patience, purity, holiness. It 
 teaches a moral and final accountability for every 
 action. It proposes sanctions for its precepts of no 
 earthly reach ; but such as are infinite, unchangea- 
 ble, and eternal. Its rewards are the promises of 
 immortal bliss ; its punishments a fearful and over- 
 whelming retribution. It excuses no compromises 
 of principle and no paltering with sin. It acknowl- 
 edges no sacrifices, but of a broken and contrite 
 spirit; no pardon, but by repentance of heart and 
 reformation of life. In its view, this life is but the 
 entrance upon existence ; a transitory state of pro- 
 bation and trial ; and the grave is the portal to that 
 better world, < where God shall wipe away all tears 
 from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, 
 neither sorrow, nor crying, nor shall there be any 
 more pain.' 
 
 To minds engrossed by such thoughts, and fixed 
 in such belief, what could there be seducing or sat- 
 isfying in the things of this world? It would be 
 impossible for them for a moment to put in competi- 
 tion the affairs of time, with the dazzling splen- 
 dors and awful judgments of eternity. We need not 
 wonder, therefore, that Christianity has had, in all 
 ages, and in all sects, its devotees and martyrs, men 
 who would endure every evil rather than renounce 
 8
 
 34 
 
 it, whether it were exile, or forfeiture, or torture, or 
 death ; that persecution should have been at no 
 loss for victims, whenever she had lighted her fires ; 
 and that in the very moment of her imagined triumph, 
 while her hands were yet reeking with blood, she 
 should have felt her own doom sealed, and her own 
 power withered. 
 
 The Reformation was the natural result of causes, 
 which had been silently working their way from the 
 first dawn of the revival of letters. Learning stimu- 
 lated inquiry ; inquiry created doubt ; and doubt 
 brought on a feverish restlessness for knowledge, 
 which must sooner or later have corrected abuses 
 and errors, even if political causes had not hastened 
 the event. Fortunately for England, fortunately 
 for the cause of religion in its most catholic sense, 
 the passions of a sanguinary and sensual monarch 
 effected at a single blow, what perhaps it would 
 otherwisfc have required ages to accomplish. The 
 controversy of Henry the Eighth with the Papal see 
 arrested the attention of all Europe, and produced 
 in England a deep conviction of the necessity of 
 some reformation in the church. It was of course, 
 that parties should, upon such an occasion, rally 
 under different banners. Many of the dignitaries, 
 both of the church and state, resisted every innova- 
 tion, as fraught with evil, not merely from a blind 
 reverence for antiquity, but also from that sympa- 
 thetic dread of change, which belongs to the habits 
 of mankind in all ages. Many were ardently 
 devoted to the cause of reform ; but wished to 
 touch gross abuses only, and thus to pave the way for
 
 35 
 
 gradual, but solid improvements. Many of deeper 
 thought, and warmer zeal, and bolder purposes, 
 deemed it matter of conscience to root out every 
 error, and to bring back Christianity at once to what 
 they esteemed the simplicity of the Gospel. To this 
 last class belonged the body of the Puritans, a class 
 as distinguished for learning, talents, probity, and 
 disinterestedness, as any which adorned their own 
 times. It is a mistake commonly enough entertain- 
 ed, that they were, in the modern sense, Dissenters ; 
 that they were hostile to episcopacy in every shape ; 
 and that they pushed their aims to the overthrow of 
 all church government. The truth was far other- 
 wise. Many of the most distinguished among them 
 were reared in the bosom of the church, and sin- 
 cerely loved its venerable forms. Their object was 
 to reform such of its rites and ceremonies only, as 
 they deemed inconsistent with the Scriptures. If in 
 the course of events they arrived at different con- 
 clusions, it was because prerogative pressed on them 
 with a heavy hand; because prelacy became the 
 instrument of persecution; because the laws re- 
 specting uniformity under the famous High Commis- 
 sion Court trampled upon their rights and conscien- 
 ces, and drove them to examine into the scriptural 
 foundations of the hierarchy. In all their struggles, 
 from the reign of Henry the Eighth to that of James 
 the First, the Puritans clung to the establishment 
 with a sincerity of affection, which, considering their 
 sufferings from papacy and prelacy, is marvellous. 
 In the farewell address of our forefathers at the very 
 moment of their departure for America, it breaks out
 
 36 
 
 into expressions of warm and filial attachment. We 
 * esteem it our honor,' say they, * to call the church 
 of England, from whence we rise, our dear mother ; 
 and cannot part from our native country, where she 
 specially resideth, without much sadness of heart, 
 and many tears in our eyes, ever acknowledging, 
 that such hope and part as we have obtained in the 
 common salvation, we have received in her bosom, 
 and sucked it from her breasts. We leave it not, 
 therefore, as loathing that milk, wherewith we were 
 nourished there ; but blessing God for the parentage 
 and education, as members of the same body, shall 
 always rejoice in her good, and unfeignedly grieve 
 for any sorrow, that shall ever betide her ; and 
 while we have breath, sincerely desire and endeavour 
 the continuance and abundance of her welfare, with 
 the enlargement of her bounds in the kingdom of 
 Christ Jesus.' * 
 
 The Puritans have been divided by an accom- 
 plished historian into three parties ; the political Puri- 
 tans, who maintained the highest principles of civil 
 liberty ; the Puritans in discipline, who were averse 
 to the ceremonies and episcopal government of the 
 church ; and the doctrinal Puritans, who rigidly de- 
 fended the speculative opinions of the first reformers-! 
 The remark, such as it is, is applicable to a later 
 period ; for at the emigration of our ancestors, 
 scarcely any divisions in doctrine existed among the 
 Protestants of England. The great controversies 
 touched the rites and ceremonies, and the fasts and 
 
 * 1 Hutch. Hist. Appendix, 487, 483. t 6 Hume's Hist. ch. li, p. 272.
 
 37 
 
 feasts of the church, the vestments of the priesthood, 
 kneeling at the altar, the sign of the cross, and the 
 manner of celebrating the ordinances. The usages of 
 the church in some of these respects were deemed 
 by the Puritans unscriptural, the remnants of popery, 
 and gross corruptions of religion. In the sincerity 
 of their hearts, they could not practise them ; in 
 the scruples of their consciences, they felt bound to 
 reject them. For this sincerity, for these scruples, 
 they were expelled from their benefices ; they were 
 subjected to spiritual censures ; they were loaded 
 with temporal punishments. They were even com- 
 pelled, by penalties, to attend upon a public worship, 
 which they abhorred, from the time of Elizabeth 
 down to the Revolution of 1688.* The language of 
 the haughty James to them was, * I will have but 
 one doctrine, and one discipline, one religion in sub- 
 stance and in ceremony.' f And he denounced them 
 as * a sect unable to be suffered in any well govern- 
 ed commonwealth.' J As if to ensnare their con- 
 sciences or to deride their scruples, Archbishop 
 Laud enjoined the introduction of sports on Sunday, 
 a day, which, he knew, they held consecrated solely 
 to the solemn services of religion. For nonconfor- 
 mity to these and other canonical injunctions of a 
 like nature, four hundred clergymen were ejected, 
 suspended, or silenced in one single year of this reign. 
 With an ill-omened perseverance in the same bigoted 
 system, Charles the Second, soon after his restora- 
 
 * 6 Hume's Hist. 163; 7 Hume's Hist. 41, 516. 
 
 f Prince's Annals, 105. \ Ibid. 107. Ibid. 111. 
 
 385140
 
 38 
 
 tion, compelled two thousand clergymen in a single 
 day to relinquish their cures, presenting to a licen- 
 tious court the noble spectacle of men, who resigned 
 all earthly preferments to their religious tenets.* 
 Yet Mr Hume, in his eager apologies for royalty, 
 could survey such scenes with philosophical indiffer- 
 ence, and intimate a doubt, whether they deserved 
 the appellation of persecution, because the victims 
 were Puritans. f 
 
 After all, it is not in the power of the scoffer, or 
 the skeptic ; of the parasite, who fawns on courts, or 
 the proselyte, who doats on the infallibility of his own 
 sect, to obscure the real dignity of the character of 
 the Puritans. We may lament their errors ; we may 
 regret their prejudices ; we may pity their infirmi- 
 ties ; we may smile at the stress laid by them on 
 petty observances, and trifling forms. We may be- 
 lieve, that their piety was mixed up with too much 
 gloom and severity ; that it was sometimes darkened 
 by superstition, and sometimes degraded by fanati- 
 cism ; that it shut out too much the innocent pleas- 
 ures of life, and enforced too strictly a discipline, 
 irksome, cheerless, and oppressive ; that it was 
 sometimes over rigid, when it might have been in- 
 dulgent ; stern, when it might have been affectionate ; 
 pertinacious, when concession would have been just, 
 as well as graceful ; and flashing with fiery zeal, 
 when charity demanded moderation, and ensured 
 peace. All this, and much more, may be admitted, 
 for they were but men, frail, fallible men, and yet 
 
 * 6 Hume's Hist. 164. t 7 Hume's Hist. 384.
 
 39 
 
 leave behind solid claims upon the reverence and 
 admiration of mankind. Of them it may be said 
 with as much truth, as of any men, that have ever 
 lived, that they acted up to their principles, and 
 followed them out with an unfaltering firmness. 
 They displayed at all times a downright honesty of 
 heart and purpose. In simplicity of life, in godly 
 sincerity, in temperance, in humility, and in patience 
 as well as in zeal, they seemed to belong to the 
 apostolical age. Their wisdom, while it looked on 
 this world, reached far beyond it in its aim and ob- 
 jects. They valued earthly pursuits no farther than 
 they were consistent with religion. Amidst the 
 temptations of human grandeur they stood unmoved, 
 unshaken, unseduced. Their scruples of conscience, 
 if they sometimes betrayed them into difficulty, never 
 betrayed them into voluntary sin. They possessed 
 a moral courage, which looked present dangers in 
 the face, as though they were distant or doubtful, 
 seeking no escape, and indulging no terror. When 
 in defence of their faith, of what they deemed pure 
 and undefiled religion, we see them resign their 
 property, their preferments, their friends, and their 
 homes ; when we see them submitting to banishment, 
 and ignominy, and even to death ; when we see 
 them in foreign lands, on inhospitable shores, in the 
 midst of sickness and famine, in desolation and dis- 
 aster, still true to themselves, still confident in God's 
 providence, still submissive to his chastisements, still 
 thankful for his blessings, still ready to exclaim in 
 the language of Scripture ' We are troubled on 
 every side, yet not distressed ; we are perplexed,
 
 40 
 
 but not in despair ; persecuted, but not forsaken ; 
 cast down, but not destroyed;' when we see such 
 things, where is the man, whose soul does not melt 
 within him at the sight ? Where shall examples be 
 sought or found more full to point out what Christi- 
 anity is, and what it ought to accomplish 1 
 
 What better origin could we desire, than from men 
 of characters like these ? Men, to whom conscience 
 was every thing, and worldly prosperity nothing. 
 Men, whose thoughts belonged to eternity rather 
 than to time. Men, who in the near prospect of 
 their sacrifices, could say, as our forefathers did say, 
 * When we are in our graves, it will be all one, 
 whether we have lived in plenty or in penury ; 
 whether we have died in a bed of down, or locks of 
 straw. Only this is the advantage of the mean con- 
 dition, THAT IT IS A MORE FREEDOM TO DIE. And 
 
 the less comfort any have in the things of this world, 
 the more liberty they have to lay up treasure in 
 heaven.'* Men, who in answer to the objection, 
 urged by the anxiety of friendship, that they might 
 perish by the way, or by hunger or the sword, could 
 answer, as our forefathers did, i We may trust God's 
 providence for these things. Either he will keep 
 these evils from us ; or will dispose them for our 
 good, and enable us to bear them.' f Men, who in 
 still later days, in their appeal for protection to the 
 throne, could say with pathetic truth and simplicity, 
 as our forefathers did, ' that we might enjoy divine 
 worship without human mixtures, without offence to 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect, p. 29. f Ibid. 29, 30.
 
 41 
 
 God, man, our own consciences, with leave, but not 
 without tears, we departed from our country, kindred, 
 and fathers' houses into this Patmos ; in relation 
 whereunto we do not say, our garments are become 
 old by reason of the very long journey, but that our- 
 selves, who came away in our strength, are, by reason 
 of long absence, many of us become grey-headed, 
 and some of us stooping for age.' * 
 
 If these be not the sentiments of lofty virtue ; if 
 they breathe not the genuine spirit of Christianity ; 
 if they speak not high approaches towards moral 
 perfection ; if they possess not an enduring sub- 
 limity ; then, indeed, have I ill read the human 
 heart ; then, indeed, have I strangely mistaken the 
 inspirations of religion. If men, like these, can be 
 passed by with indifference, because they wore not 
 the princely robes, or the sacred lawn, because they 
 shone not in courts, or feasted in fashionable circles, 
 then, indeed, is Christian glory a vain shadow, and 
 human virtue a dream, about which we disquiet our- 
 selves in vain. 
 
 But it is not so it is not so. There are those 
 around me, whose hearts beat high, and whose lips 
 grow eloquent, when the remembrance of such an- 
 cestors comes over their thoughts ; when they read 
 in their deeds not the empty forms, but the essence 
 of holy living and holy dying. Time was, when the 
 exploits of war, the heroes of many battles, the con- 
 querors of millions, the men, who waded through 
 slaughter to thrones, the kings, whose footsteps were 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 328.
 
 42 
 
 darkened with blood, and the sceptred oppressors 
 of the earth, were alone deemed worthy themes for 
 the poet and the orator, for the song of the minstrel, 
 and the hosannas of the multitude. Time was, when 
 feats of arms, and tournaments, and crusades, and 
 the high array of chivalry, and the pride of royal 
 banners waving for victory, engrossed all minds. 
 Time was, when the ministers of the altar sat down 
 by the side of the tyrant, and numbered his victims, 
 and stimulated his persecutions, and screened the 
 instruments of his crimes and there was praise and 
 glory and revelry for these things. Murder, and 
 rapine, burning cities, and desolated plains, if so be 
 they were at the bidding of royal or baronial feuds, 
 led on by the courtier or the clan, were matters of 
 public boast, the delight of courts, and the treasured 
 pleasure of the fireside tales. But these times have 
 passed away. Christianity has resumed her meek 
 and holy reign. The Puritans have not lived in vain. 
 The simple piety of the Pilgrims of New-England 
 casts into shade this false glitter, which dazzled and 
 betrayed men into the worship of their destroyers. 
 
 It has been said in the wantonness of folly, or the 
 presumptuousness of ignorance, that America was 
 peopled much in the same way, as Botany Bay, with 
 outcasts and convicts. So far as respects New- 
 England, there could not be a more flagrant violation 
 of the truth of history. The poor, the friendless, 
 and the oppressed came indeed hither. But their 
 sole crime was, that they loved God more than they 
 feared man. They came, too, under the guidance of 
 men elevated by their rank, their fortune, and their
 
 43 
 
 learning in their own country. Some of them were 
 allied to noble families, whose graceful honors have 
 descended to our days. Many of them were gentry 
 of the realm, and possessed public respect from their 
 known virtues and opulence. Many were distin- 
 guished for high attainments in literature and sci- 
 ence, and could trace back their matriculations to 
 the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Many 
 of them were ripe for public honors at home, if they 
 had chosen to remain there. Many of them were 
 the friends and compeers of Cromwell, and Pym, 
 and Hampden, and Milton, and other illustrious men, 
 who, in the midst of all the changes of party, and all 
 the studied disparagements of royalty, still continue 
 to attract the reverence of mankind. Need I name 
 Winthrop, Dudley, Endicott, Humphrey, Saltonstall, 
 Johnson, Nowel, Bradstreet, and Pynchon 1 Or 
 among the clergy, Higginson, Skelton, Cotton, Eliot, 
 Davenport, Williams, Wilson, Norton, Rogers, and 
 Hooker, to many of whom we may, with the honest 
 enthusiasm of Mather, apply the praise of Salmasius, 
 ' Vir nunquam satis laudatus, nee temere sine laude 
 nominandus.' * 
 
 But to us it would not be matter of regret, much 
 less of reproach, if the case were far otherwise ; if 
 we could count among our ancestors only the hum- 
 ble, the poor, and the forlorn. Rank, station, talents, 
 and learning did indeed add lustre to their acts ; and 
 impart a more striking dignity to their sufferings by 
 giving them a bolder relief. But it was the purity of 
 
 * See Eliot's Biog. Dictionary, Art. Davenport; 2 Hist. Collect. (2d series) 
 p. 260.
 
 44 
 
 their principles, their integrity, and devout piety, 
 which constituted the solid fabric of their fame. It 
 was Christianity, which cast over their character its 
 warm and glorious light, and gave it an everlasting 
 freshness. It was their faith in God, which shed 
 such beauty over their lives, and clothed this mortal, 
 with the form of immortality. In comparison with 
 these, the distinctions of this world, however high 
 or various they may be, are but evanescent points, a 
 drop to the ocean, an instant to eternity, a ray of 
 light to the innumerous fires, which blaze on uncon- 
 sumed in the skies. This is not the poor estimate 
 of man, the being of a day ; it is the voice of that 
 Revelation, which has spoken to our hopes and fears 
 with an authority, which rebukes, while it convinces, 
 our reason. 
 
 Let us rejoice, then, at our origin with an honest 
 joy. Let us exultingly hail this day as one of glo- 
 rious memory. Let us proudly survey this land, the 
 land of our fathers. It is our precious inheritance. 
 It was watered by their tears ; it was subdued by 
 their hands ; it was defended by their valor ; it was 
 consecrated by their virtues. Where is the empire, 
 which has been won with so much innocence? 
 Where is the empire, which has been maintained 
 with so much moderation ? 
 
 I pass to other topics, where the task of vindica- 
 tion or apology becomes a duty of the day ; a task, 
 which, I trust, may be performed with due reverence 
 to our forefathers, and with a still greater reverence 
 for truth.
 
 45 
 
 It has been said, that our forefathers were bigoted, 
 intolerant, and persecuting ; that while they demand- 
 ed religious freedom for themselves, they denied it 
 to all others ; that in their eyes even error in cere- 
 mony or mode of worship was equally reprehensible 
 with error in doctrine ; and, if persisted in, deserved 
 the temporal punishments denounced upon heresy. 
 Mr Hume * has dwelt with no small complacency 
 upon the fact, that the Puritans ' maintained that they 
 themselves were the only pure church; that their 
 principles and practices ought to be established by 
 law ; and that no others ought to be tolerated.' 
 
 I am not disposed to deny the truth of the charge, 
 or to conceal, or to extenuate the facts. I stand not 
 up here the apologist for persecution, whether it be 
 by Catholic or Protestant, by Puritan or Prelate, by 
 Congregationalist or Covenanter, by Church or State, 
 by the Monarch or the People. Wherever, and by 
 whomsoever, it is promulgated or supported, under 
 whatever disguises, for whatever purposes, at all 
 times, and under all circumstances, it is a gross viola- 
 tion of the rights of conscience, and utterly incon- 
 sistent with the spirit of Christianity. I care not, 
 whether it goes to life, or property, or office, or 
 reputation, or mere private comfort, it is equally an 
 outrage upon religion and the unalienable rights of 
 man. If there is any right, sacred beyond all others, 
 because it imports everlasting consequences, it is 
 the right to worship God according to the dictates 
 of our own consciences. Whoever attempts to nar- 
 
 * 6 Hume's Hist. 164.
 
 46 
 
 row it down in any degree, to limit it by the creed 
 of any sect, to bound the exercise of private judg- 
 ment, or free inquiry, by the standard of his own 
 faith, be he priest or layman, ruler or subject, dis- 
 honors so far the profession of Christianity, and 
 wounds it in its vital virtues. The doctrine, on 
 which such attempts are founded, goes to the de- 
 struction of all free institutions of government. 
 There is not a truth to be gathered from history 
 more certain, or more momentous, than this, that 
 civil liberty cannot long be separated from religious 
 liberty without danger, and ultimately without de- 
 struction to both. Wherever religious liberty exists, 
 it will, first or last, bring in, and establish political 
 liberty. Wherever it is suppressed, the church es- 
 tablishment will, first or last, become the engine of 
 despotism^ and overthrow, unless it be itself over- 
 thrown, every vestige of political right. How it is 
 possible to imagine, that a religion breathing the 
 spirit of mercy and benevolence, teaching the for- 
 giveness of injuries, the exercise of charity, and the 
 return of good for evil; how it is possible, I say, 
 for such a religion to be so perverted, as to breathe 
 the spirit of slaughter and persecution, of discord 
 and vengeance for differences of opinion, is a most 
 unaccountable and extraordinary moral phenomenon. 
 Still more extraordinary, that it should be the doc- 
 trine, not of base and wicked men merely, seeking 
 to cover up their own misdeeds ; but of good men, 
 seeking the way of salvation with uprightness of heart 
 and purpose. It affords a melancholy proof of the 
 infirmity of human judgment, and teaches a lesson
 
 47 
 
 of humility, from which spiritual pride may learn 
 meekness, and spiritual zeal a moderating wis- 
 dom. 
 
 Let us not, then, in examining the deeds of our 
 fathers, shrink from our proper duty to ourselves. 
 Let us not be untrue to the lights of our own days, 
 to the religious privileges, which we enjoy, to those 
 constitutions of government, which proclaim Chris- 
 tian equality to all sects, and deny the power of 
 persecution to all. Our fathers had not arrived at 
 the great truth, that action, not opinion, is the proper 
 object of human legislation ; that religious freedom 
 is the birthright of man ; that governments have no 
 authority to inflict punishment for conscientious dif- 
 ferences of opinion ; and that to worship God ac- 
 cording to our own belief is not only our privilege, 
 but is our duty, our absolute duty, from which no 
 human tribunal can absolve us. We should be un- 
 worthy of our fathers, if we should persist in error, 
 when it is known to us. Their precept, like their 
 example, speaking as it were from their sepulchres, 
 is, to follow truth, not as they saw it, but as we see 
 it, fearlessly and faithfully. 
 
 Let us meet the charge against them of bigotry, 
 intolerance, and persecution, and gather from it in- 
 struction and admonition for our own conduct. 
 Were our forefathers singular in this respect ? Does 
 the reproach, if reproach it be, that men do not live 
 up to truths, which they do not comprehend, rest 
 upon them alone? So far from this being true, 
 there was not at that time in all Christendom a 
 single spot, however remote, in which the freedom
 
 48 
 
 of religious opinion was supported by prince or 
 people. Throughout all Europe, if we except Hol- 
 land, the practice of burning heretics still prevailed, 
 not only m Catholic but in Protestant countries. 
 And even in Holland, banishment was not an uncom- 
 mon punishment for those, who obstinately persisted 
 in heresies of doctrine.* What is it, then, that is 
 required of our forefathers ? That they should have 
 possessed a wisdom and liberality far superior to their 
 own age ; that they should have acted upon truths 
 as clear and settled, of which faint glimmerings only, 
 or at least a brief and dubious twilight, had then 
 shot up in unsteady streams to direct their course ; 
 that learned as they were, and wide as were their 
 researches, and painful as was their diligence, they 
 should have outstripped all others in the race, and 
 surmounted the prejudices and prescriptions of 
 twelve centuries. It would be dealing out a hard 
 measure of justice to require perfect conformity un- 
 der all circumstances to our own sense of duty. 
 It would be dealing out still harder measure to 
 press upon one poor, persecuted sect the sins of all 
 Christendom ; to make them alone responsible for 
 opinions, which had become sacred by their antiqui- 
 ty, as well as their supposed coincidence with Scrip- 
 ture. Uniformity of faith and intolerance of error 
 had been so long the favorite dogmas of all schools 
 of theology and government, that they had ceased 
 to be examined. They were deemed texts for the 
 preacher, and not inquiries for the critic. 
 
 * 6 Hume's Hist. 57, 163 ; 7 Hume's Hist. 20, 41, 515.
 
 49 
 
 I am aware, that in the writings of some of the 
 early reformers, there may be found here and there 
 passages, which recognise the principles of religious 
 liberty. But we must remember, that they were 
 uttered in the heat of controversy, to beat down the 
 authority of the Romish clmrch ; and so little were 
 they sustained by public opinion, that they were 
 lamentably forgotten in the first moments of Protes- 
 tant victory. They were mere outworks in the sys- 
 tem of theological opinions, which might form a 
 defence against Catholic attacks ; and were treated 
 with contempt or indifference, when heresies sprung 
 up in the bosom of the new faith. My Lord Bacon, 
 in his discourse upon the unity of religion, written 
 with a moderation becoming his great mind, and with 
 a spirit of indulgence far beyond the age, has never- 
 theless contended strenuously for the unity of faith, 
 and declared, that < heresies and schisms are of all 
 others the greatest scandals.' At the same time he 
 boldly warns us not ' to propagate religion by wars, 
 or by sanguinary persecutions to force conscien- 
 ces.' * At the distance of a century, the enlightened 
 author of the * Spirit of Laws ' avowed the doctrine, 
 that it is sound policy, when the state is already 
 satisfied with the established religion, not to suffer 
 the establishment of another. And while he declares 
 that penal laws, in respect to religion, ought to be 
 avoided, he paradoxically maintains the doctrine, as 
 a fundamental principle, that when the state is at 
 liberty to receive or reject a new religion, it ought 
 
 * 2 Bacon's Works, 259. 
 
 7
 
 50 
 
 to be rejected ; when it is received, it ought to be 
 tolerated.* So slowly does truth make its way even 
 among the most gifted minds, in opposition to pre- 
 conceived opinions and prejudices. 
 
 Nay, we need not go back to other times for 
 illustrative examples. Is it even now true, that the 
 doctrine of religious liberty is received with entire 
 approbation in Christendom ? Where it is received 
 with most favor, is it not recognised more as mat- 
 ter of toleration and policy, than of right ? suffered 
 rather than supported ? connived at from fear, rather 
 than vindicated upon principle ? Even in England, 
 free and enlightened as she is, how slow and reluc- 
 tant has been the progress towards a generous tole- 
 ration. It is scarcely twelve years since it ceased 
 to be a crime punishable with fine and imprisonment, 
 to deny the doctrine of the Trinity. The universi- 
 ties of Oxford and Cambridge are still by their stat- 
 utes closed against the admission of Dissenters from 
 the established church. For more than a century 
 and a half, Protestant Dissenters of every descrip- 
 tion were excluded by law from the possession of 
 offices of trust or profit in the kingdom. The repeal 
 of the odious corporation and test acts, by w r hich 
 this exclusion was guarded, was, after much resist- 
 ance, accomplished only at the last session of Par- 
 liament; and the celebrations of this event, of this 
 emancipation from religious thraldom of one third of 
 her whole population, are just reaching our ears from 
 the other side of the Atlantic. The Catholic yet 
 
 Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws, book 25, ch. 10, 12.
 
 51 
 
 groans under the weight of disabilities imposed upon 
 him by the unrelenting arm of power, and sickens at 
 the annual visitation of that hope of relief, which 
 mocks him at every approach, and recedes at the 
 very moment, when it seems within his grasp. Even 
 in our own country, can we lay our hands upon our 
 hearts, and say with sincerity, that this universal 
 freedom of religion is watched by none with jealousy 
 and discontent? that there are none, who would 
 employ the civil arm to suppress heresy, or to crush 
 the weaker sects ? 
 
 With what justice, then, shall we require from the 
 Puritans of James's reign, lessons of Christian liber- 
 ality, which, even in the nineteenth century, are re- 
 jected by statesmen and patriots, by laity and clergy, 
 in regions adorned with all the refinements of letters, 
 and the lights of science ? If they had continued in 
 the mother country, it is more than probable, that 
 persecution would have taught them, what reason 
 and revelation had failed to teach them. They 
 would have reached the point, at which the Inde- 
 pendents arrived in the next reign, whose true glory 
 it is, that ' of all Christian sects, this was the firs; 
 which, during its prosperity as well as its adversity, 
 always adopted the principle of toleration.' * 
 
 But our forefathers acted far otherwise. The 
 truth of history compels us to admit, that from the 
 first settlement down to the charter of William and 
 Mary in 1692, in proportion as they gathered inter- 
 nal power, they were less and less disposed to share 
 
 ' 7 Hume's Hist. 20.
 
 52 
 
 it with any other Christian sect. That charter con- 
 tained an express provision, that there should be 
 * a liberty of conscience allowed in the worship of 
 God, to all Christians, except Papists.' Objection- 
 able as this clause would have been under other 
 circumstances, the recent attempts of James the 
 Second, to introduce Popery ; and the dread which 
 they entertained of being themselves the subjects of 
 political, as well as religious persecution, reconciled 
 them to it, and they hailed it almost as another mag- 
 na charta of liberty.* So true it is, that accident 
 or interest frequently forces men to the adoption of 
 correct principles, when a sense of justice has totally 
 failed to effect it. In the intermediate period, the 
 Quakers and Anabaptists, and in short all other Dis- 
 senters from their creed, had been unrelentingly per- 
 secuted by fine, imprisonment, banishment, and 
 sometimes even by death itself. Episcopalians, too, 
 fell under their special displeasure ; and notwith- 
 standing every effort of the Crown, by threats and 
 remonstrance, they studiously excluded them from 
 every office, and even from the right of suffrage. 
 No person but a freeman was permitted to vote in 
 any public affairs, or to hold any office ; and no 
 person could become a freeman but by being a 
 member of their own church, and recommended by 
 their own clergy.f In truth the clergy possessed a 
 power and influence in the state, as great as ever 
 was exercised under any church establishment 
 whatsoever. There was not, until after the repeal 
 of the first charter in 1676, a single Episcopal soci- 
 
 * 1 Hutch. Hist. 75, and note. f 3 Hutch. Collect. 478, 484, 520, note.
 
 53 
 
 ety in the whole colony ; * and even the celebration 
 of Christmas was punished as a public offence, f In 
 this exclusive policy our ancestors obstinately per- 
 severed, against every remonstrance at home and 
 abroad. When Sir Richard Saltonstall wrote to them 
 his admirable letter, which pleads with such a catholic 
 enthusiasm for toleration, the harsh and brief reply 
 was, ' God forbid our love for the truth should be 
 grown so cold, that we should tolerate errors.' J And 
 Cotton himself, * whose praise is in all our churches,' 
 the man, who could with a noble independence 
 address himself to the bishop of Lincoln, in language 
 like this ; ' However much I do highly prize, and 
 much prefer other men's judgment, and learning, 
 and wisdom, and piety ; yet in things pertaining to 
 God, and his worship, still I must (as I ought) live 
 by my own faith, not theirs ; ' such a man, I say, could 
 meanly stoop in the defence of persecution to ar- 
 guments not unworthy of the worst ages of bigotry. 
 They went farther, imitating in this respect the 
 famous act of uniformity of Elizabeth, and com- 
 pelled an attendance upon their own mode of wor- 
 ship under a penalty. Yes, the very men did this,, 
 who thought paying one shilling for not coming ta 
 prayers in England, was an unsupportable tyranny. |j 
 Yes, the very men who asked from Charles the 
 Second, after his restoration, liberty of conscience 
 and worship for themselves, were deaf, and dumb, 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Hist. 430, 431. 
 
 t 3 Hutch. Collect 419, 482 ; Colony and Province Laws, edit. 1814, p. 119, 
 ch. 50. 
 
 \ 3 Hutch. Collect. 401, 402 . 3 Hutch. Collect. 403. 
 
 || 3 Hutch. Collect. 418, 419, 422 ; 1 Hutch. Hist. 75,
 
 54 
 
 and blind, when it was demanded by his commis- 
 sioners for Episcopalians and others. They silently 
 evaded the claim, or resolutely refused it, as the 
 temper of the times enabled them to act.* 
 
 The very efforts made in the colony to establish 
 this uniformity of faith, afford striking proofs of the 
 utter hopelessness, as well as injustice of such at- 
 tempts. Within ten years after their first landing, 
 the whole colony was thrown into confusion by 
 religious dissensions, by controversies about ; faith 
 and about forms of church government ; about the 
 covenant of grace, and the covenant of works ; about 
 liberty of conscience, and exclusiveness of w r orship ; 
 about doctrines so mysterious and subtle, as seem 
 past all human comprehension, and customs so tri- 
 fling and vain, as seem beyond the reach of eccle- 
 siastical censure. Who could imagine, that the rev- 
 eries of Mrs Hutchinson, and the question, whether 
 ladies should wear veils, and the legality of bearing 
 the cross in a military standard, should have shaken 
 the colony to its foundations 1 So thickly sown 
 were the seeds of spiritual discord, that more than 
 four-score opinions were pronounced heresies by an 
 ecclesiastical Synod convened in 1637. Yet were 
 the difficulties far from being removed, although fines 
 and imprisonment and banishment followed in the 
 train of the excommunications of the church. The 
 struggle for toleration was still maintained ; the dis- 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 188,191, 192, 193, 194, 418, 419, 422; 8 Hist. Collect, 
 (second series) p. 76, 78 ; 1 Hutch. Hist. Appendix, 537 ; 3 Hutch. Collect. 
 478, 482, 484, 519, 520. 
 
 f 1 Hutch. Hist. 37, 65, 67, 73, 75, 430.
 
 55 
 
 content with the laws, which confined political privi- 
 leges to church members, constantly increased ; and 
 diversities of faith at last grew up, so numerous and 
 so formidable, that persecution became less frequent 
 because it was less safe. The single fact, that under 
 this exclusive system, not more than one sixth of 
 the qualified inhabitants were freemen in 1676, 
 affords an ample commentary upon its injustice and 
 folly. Five sixths of the colony were disfranchised 
 by the influence of the ecclesiastical power.* 
 
 The fundamental error of our ancestors, an error 
 which began with the very settlement of the colony, 
 was a doctrine, which has since been happily ex- 
 ploded, I mean the necessity of a union between 
 church and state. To this they clung, as the ark of 
 their safety. They thought it the only sure way of 
 founding a Christian commonwealth. They main- 
 tained, that * church government and civil govern- 
 ment may very well stand together, it being the duty 
 of the magistrate to take care of matters of religion, 
 and to improve his civil authority for observing the 
 duties commanded by it.' f They not only tolerated 
 the civil power in the suppression of heresy, but they 
 demanded and enjoined it. They preached it in the 
 pulpit and the synod. It was in their closet prayers, 
 and in their public legislation. The arm of the civil 
 government was constantly employed in support 
 of the denunciations of the church ; and without its 
 forms, the Inquisition existed in substance, with a 
 full share of its terrors and its violence. There was, 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 484. t 1 Hutch. Hist. 434.
 
 56 
 
 indeed, far more caution in shedding human blood ; 
 but there was scarcely less indulgence for human 
 error. For such proceedings there was not the 
 poor apology, which has been sometimes suggested, 
 that every religion, which is persecuted, becomes 
 itself persecuting, because it attacks the religion 
 which persecuted it, not as a religion, but as a tyran- 
 ny.* Our ancestors could not frame such an apol- 
 ogy for themselves ; for no ecclesiastical tyranny 
 attempted to usurp authority over them within the 
 colony. It had a deeper origin, in that wretched 
 doctrine of the union of church and state, by which 
 Christianity has been made the minister of almost every 
 wrong in the catalogue of crimes. It has been said 
 with as much truth as force, by one of the most elo- 
 quent of modern divines, ' that the boasted alliance 
 between church and state, on which so many enco- 
 miums have been lavished, seems to have been but 
 little more than a compact between the priest and 
 the magistrate to betray the liberties of mankind, 
 both civil and religious.' f 
 
 To the honor of New-England be it said, that if 
 here persecution obtained an early triumph, here 
 also for the first time since the Reformation was 
 simultaneously proclaimed the doctrine of liberty of 
 conscience, a doctrine, which, I trust, will, by the 
 blessing of God, be maintained by us and our pos- 
 terity at all hazards, and against all encroachments. 
 Here, on this very spot, in Naumkeag, in this ' bosom 
 
 * Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws, book 25, ch. 9. 
 f Robert Hall. Pamphlet published in 1791.
 
 57 
 
 of consolation,' * it was proclaimed by Roger Williams 
 in 1635; and for this among other grave offences, 
 he was sentenced to banishment. He fled to Rhode- 
 Island ; and there in the code of laws for the colony 
 planted by his energy and sagacity, we read for the 
 first time, since Christianity ascended the throne of 
 the Caesars, the declaration, that ' conscience should 
 be free, and men should not be punished for wor- 
 shipping God in the way they were persuaded he 
 required,' a declaration, which, to the honor of 
 Rhode-Island, she has never departed from, a 
 declaration, which puts to shame many, a realm of 
 wider domains and loftier pretensions. It still 
 shines among her laws with an argument in its sup- 
 port in the shape of a preamble, which has rarely 
 been surpassed in power of thought or felicity of 
 expression.! Massachusetts may blush, that the 
 Catholic colony of Lord Baltimore,- and the Quaker, 
 the blameless Quaker colony of Penn, were originally 
 founded on the same generous principles of Christian 
 right, long before she felt or acknowledged them.J 
 While, then, we joyfully celebrate this anniver- 
 sary, let us remember, that our forefathers had their 
 faults, as well as virtues ; that their example is not 
 always a safe pattern for our imitation ; but some- 
 
 * In the ' Planter's Plea,' published in London in 1630, the writer says that 
 Nahum Keike is perfect Hebrew, and by interpretation means ' The bosom of 
 consolation.' 
 
 f It is almost in totidem verbis with the act of Virginia of 1785, which has been 
 attributed to Mr. Madison. To which state the merit of the original draft be- 
 longs, I am unable to say, as I have not the means of tracing it in Rhode-Island 
 acts earlier than in the Digest of 1798. 
 
 1 1 Pitkin's Hist. 66, 67 ; Chalmers, p. 218 ; 2 Proud's Hist. Append.
 
 58 
 
 times a beacon of solemn warning. Let, us do, not 
 what they did, but what with our lights and advan- 
 tages they would have done, must have done, from 
 the love of country, and the love of truth. Is there 
 any one, who would now for a moment justify the 
 exclusion of every person from political rights and 
 privileges, who is not a Congregationalist of the 
 straitest sect in doctrine and discipline ? Is there 
 any one, who would exclude the Episcopalian, the 
 Baptist, the Methodist, the Quaker, or the Univer- 
 salist, not merely from power and Christian fellow- 
 ship, but from breathing the same air, and enjoying 
 the same sunshine, and reaping the same harvest, 
 because he walks not in the same faith, and kneels 
 not at the same altar, with himself? Is there any 
 one, who would bring back the by-gone penalties, 
 and goad on tender consciences to hypocrisy or self- 
 destruction ? Is there any one, that would light the 
 faggot to burn the innocent? that would stain the 
 temples of God with the blood of martyrdom ? that 
 would cut off all the charities of human life, and in 
 a religious warfare, arm the father against the son, 
 the mother against the daughter, the wife against the 
 husband ? that would bind all posterity in the fet- 
 ters of his own creed, and shipwreck their con- 
 sciences ? If any such there be, whatever badge 
 they may wear, they are enemies to us and our 
 institutions. They would sap the foundations of 
 our civil as well as religious liberties. They would 
 betray us into worse than Egyptian bondage. Of 
 the doctrines of such men, if any such there be, I 
 would say with the earnestness of the apostolical
 
 exhortation, ' Touch not, taste not, handle not.' If 
 ever there could be a case, in which intolerance 
 would rise almost into the dignity of a virtue, it would 
 be, when its object was to put down intolerance. 
 No let us cling with a holy zeal to the Bible, and 
 the Bible only, as the religion of Protestants. Let 
 us proclaim with Milton, that ' neither traditions, nor 
 councils, nor canons of any visible church, much 
 less edicts of any civil magistrate, or civil session, 
 but the Scripture only, can be the final judge or rule 
 in matters of religion, and that only in the conscience 
 of every Christian to himself* Let us inscribe on the 
 walls of our dwellinghouses, in our temples, in our 
 halls of legislation, in our courts of justice, the ad- 
 mirable declaration of Queen Mary (the consort of 
 William the Third), than which a nobler precept of 
 wisdom never fell from uninspired lips ' It is not in 
 the power of men to believe what they please ; and 
 therefore, they should not be forced in matters of 
 religion contrary to their persuasions and their con- 
 sciences.' * 
 
 I pass with unmixed pleasure to other and more 
 grateful topics, where approbation need not be slow, 
 or praise parsimonious. If, in laying the foundations 
 of this Christian commonwealth, our forefathers were 
 governed in respect to religion by a spirit unworthy 
 of Protestantism, it was far otherwise in respect to 
 their civil institutions. Here, a wise forecast and 
 sound policy directed all their operations ; so wise 
 and so sound, that the lapse of two hundred years 
 
 * 9 Hist. Collect. 251.
 
 60 
 
 has left unchanged the body of their legislation, and 
 in a general sense added little to their securities 
 for public or private rights. There is no reason to 
 suppose, that they were opposed to monarchy as a 
 suitable form of government for the mother country, 
 or that opposition to the civil establishments mingled 
 in the slightest degree with the motives of their emi- 
 gration.* There is just as little reason to suppose, 
 that they desired or would have acquiesced in the 
 establishment of a colonial monarchy or aristocracy. 
 On the contrary we know, that they refused to con- 
 fer the magistracy for life ; and that they repelled 
 every notion of an hereditary nobility in their cele- 
 brated answer to the propositions of Lord Say and 
 Seale.f This attachment to the form of government 
 of the mother country was not only sincere, but 
 continued down to the Revolution. Their descend- 
 ants took many opportunities to evince it ; and some 
 of the most powerful appeals made by the patriots 
 of the Revolution to the British Crown are filled with 
 eloquent professions of loyalty. The formation of a 
 Republic was the necessary result of the final sepa- 
 ration from England. The controversy was then 
 narrowed down to the consideration of what form of 
 government they might properly adopt. All their 
 habits, principles, and institutions prohibited the ex- 
 istence of a real or titular peerage. They had no 
 materials for a king. They were, as they had been 
 from the beginning, essentially republicans. They 
 followed the lead of their existing institutions ; and 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 328. | 1 Hutch. Hist. 490, 493, 494.
 
 61 
 
 the most striking change introduced by them was 
 the choice of a governor by themselves, as a substi- 
 tute for the like choice by the Crown. 
 
 Their connexion with and dependence upon the 
 mother country grew up from their national allegi- 
 ance, and was confirmed by the sense of their own 
 weakness and the desire of protection. In return 
 for this protection they were ready to admit a sove- 
 reign right in Parliament to regulate to some, though 
 an undefined extent, their foreign intercourse, and 
 in the Crown to supervise their colonial legislation. 
 But they never did admit the right of Parliament or 
 the Crown to legislate generally for them, or to in- 
 terfere with their domestic polity. On the contrary, 
 from the first they resisted it, as an encroachment 
 upon their liberties. This was more emphatically true 
 of Massachusetts, than of any other of the Colonies. 
 The commissioners of Charles the Second in 1665 
 reported, that she was the last and hardliest per- 
 suaded to use his majesty's name in the forms of 
 justice;' that her inhabitants * proclaimed by sound 
 of trumpet, that the General Court was the supremest 
 judicatory in all that province;' 'that the commis- 
 sioners pretending to hear appeals was a breach of 
 their privileges;' 'and that they should not permit 
 it.' * In short, the commissioners well described 
 ' their way of government, as commonwealth like.'' f 
 Even in relation to foreign commerce their strong 
 sense of independence was illustrated Jby the com- 
 plaint, that ' no notice was taken of the act of navi- 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 417, 418. t H. P- 422.
 
 62 
 
 gation, plantation, or any other laws made in Eng- 
 land for the regulation of trade ; all nations having 
 free liberty to come into their ports and vend their 
 commodities without any restraint.' * These acts of 
 navigation and trade were never recognised as in 
 force in the colony, until their own legislature re- 
 quired their observance.! So strenuous were our 
 ancestors even at this early period in maintaining 
 the doctrine, that Parliament could not bind them, 
 because they were not represented there. So jealous 
 were they to guard against every usurpation of the 
 Crown. He, indeed, must have read our annals with 
 a very careless eye, who does not perceive at every 
 turn, a constant struggle for substantial independ- 
 ence. 
 
 The basis of their institutions was from the first 
 settlement republican. The people were the ad- 
 mitted source of all power. They chose the magis- 
 trates and executive. They established a represen- 
 tative government; they created a colonial legisla- 
 ture, whose power to enact laws was, until the 
 overthrow of the first charter, deemed for most 
 purposes absolute and supreme. Their earliest 
 legislation recognised the great rights secured by 
 the Magna Charta of England ; the trial by jury ; 
 the free administration of justice ; the equality of 
 freemen ; the abolition of all slavish and feudal ten- 
 ures ; and above all the distribution of intestate 
 estates among all the descendants of the deceased. 
 
 * Randolph's Letter in 1676 ; 3 Hutch. Collect. 496. 
 f 1 Hutch. Hist. 322 ; 3 Hutch. Collect. 521.
 
 63 
 
 This was indeed a signal triumph over the prejudices 
 in favor of primogeniture. It constituted a funda- 
 mental principle in their policy ; and by its silent 
 but irresistible influence, prevented the undue accu- 
 mulation of estates in a few hands, so that the intro- 
 duction of a colonial nobility became absolutely 
 impracticable. Henceforth the partible nature of 
 estates was so fixed in public opinion, that it broke 
 down every attempt to perpetuate entails ; and left 
 the mass of our landed interests, as we now find 
 them, in the possession of the yeomanry in fee sim- 
 ple. While this great law of descents exists, it will 
 for ever prevent the establishment of any arbitrary 
 power. The government, that once admits it into 
 its code, may remain in form a monarchy, or an 
 aristocracy ; but it will follow the impulses of public 
 opinion, and find its surest protection in the advance- 
 ment of popular principles. 
 
 Thus broad, thus elevated, was the early legisla- 
 tion of our forefathers. If we except from it that 
 portion, which was tinged by the bigotry and super- 
 stition of the times, we shall find it singular for its 
 wisdom, humanity, and public spirit ; and admirably 
 adapted to the wants of a free, simple, and intelligent 
 people. 
 
 Among the most striking acts of their legislation are 
 those, which respect the cause of learning and edu- 
 cation. Within ten short years after their first settle- 
 ment they founded the University at Cambridge, and 
 endowed it with the sum of four hundred pounds, a 
 sum, which, considering their means and their wants, 
 was a most generous benefaction. Perhaps no Ian-
 
 64 
 
 guage could more significantly express the dignity of 
 their design, than their own words. ' After God had 
 carried us safe to New-England,' say they, ' and we 
 had builded^ our houses, provided necessaries for 
 our livelihood, reared convenient places for God's 
 worship, and settled the civil government ; one of 
 the next things we longed for, and looked after, was 
 to advance learning and perpetuate it to posterity, 
 dreading to leave an illiterate ministry to the 
 churches, when our present ministers shall lie in the 
 dust.' * They were not disappointed in their hopes. 
 By the blessing of Providence this little College, 
 planted by their hands, and nursed by their care, has 
 flourished. Already she counts nearly six thousand 
 in her matriculations. She still stands erect, in the 
 midst of her offspring, clothed with her ancient 
 glory, and matron dignity, and lovelier by her age. 
 Our hearts still yearn towards her ; our thoughts 
 still kindle at her praise ; our prayers still rise for 
 her prosperity. We may smile at the early charge 
 made by the royal commissioners, that ' it may be 
 feared this College may afford us many schismatics 
 to the church. 3 f But we proudly proclaim their 
 reluctant confession, that by her means there was 
 * a scholar to their minister in every town or village ' 
 of Massachusetts.! 
 
 But the truest glory of our forefathers is in that 
 system of public instruction, which they instituted 
 by law, and to which New-England owes more of 
 its character, its distinction, and its prosperity, than 
 
 * 1 Hist. Collect. 240. f 3 Hutch. Collect. 421. J Id. 413.
 
 65 
 
 to all other causes. If this system be not altogether 
 without example in the history of other nations (as 
 I suspect in its structure and extent it is), it is, con- 
 sidering the age and means of the projectors, an 
 extraordinary instance of wise legislation, and wor- 
 thy of the most profound statesmen of any times. 
 At the distance of centuries it stands alone and 
 unrivalled. Europe has not ventured as yet to copy 
 its outlines ; nor could they be copied in a despotism 
 without undermining its foundations. England her- 
 self, where letters and learning have so long held 
 the highest rank, is but just beginning to think se- 
 riously of a system of national instruction ; and her 
 statesmen are now gathering admiration at home for 
 schemes of public education, far, very far short of 
 what her own poor, feeble, neglected colony estab- 
 lished at the starting point of its political existence. 
 Yes it was in this system of public instruction, that 
 our fathers laid the foundation for the perpetuity of 
 our institutions, and for that growth of sound morals, 
 industry, and public spirit, which has never yet 
 been wanting in New-England, and, we may fondly 
 hope, will for ever remain her appropriate praise. 
 Yes in the year 1647 they ordered every township 
 of fifty householders to maintain a public school at 
 public expense ; and every township of one hundred 
 householders to maintain in like manner a grammar 
 school, to instruct youth and fit them for the University, 
 ' to the end,' say they, in this memorable law, ' to the 
 end, that learning may not be buried in the graves of 
 our forefathers, in church and commonwealth.' And 
 this was done by them, when they had just made 
 9
 
 66 
 
 their first lodgment in the wilderness ; when they 
 had scarcely found leisure to build, I do not say, fair 
 dwellings, but humble cottages for their own shelter 
 and safety. When they were poor and unprotected, 
 persecuted and in peril they could then look forward 
 with a noble disregard of present enjoyments, and 
 forgetting themselves, provide the bread of life for 
 their posterity. This system has never been broken 
 in upon ; it still stands in its substance on the pages 
 of our statute book, an enduring record of wisdom 
 and patriotism. Under its blessed influence our youth 
 have grown up. They have received early instruc- 
 tion in their rights and liberties, and (as the law 
 itself requires) * not only in sound literature, but in 
 sound doctrine/ It is here, that industry has learn- 
 ed the value of its own labors ; that genius has 
 triumphed over the discouragements of poverty ; 
 that skill has given polish as well as strength to 
 talent ; that a lofty spirit of independence has been 
 nourished and sustained ; that the first great lesson 
 of human improvement has been taught, that knowl- 
 edge is power ; and the last great lesson of human 
 experience felt, that without virtue there is neither 
 happiness nor safety. 
 
 I know not what more munificent donation any 
 government can bestow, than by providing instruc- 
 tion at the public expense, not as a scheme of charity, 
 but of municipal policy. If a private person deserves 
 the applause of all good men, who founds a single 
 hospital or college, how much more are they entitled 
 to the appellation of public benefactors, who by the 
 side of every church in every village plant a school
 
 67 
 
 of letters. Other monuments of the art and genius 
 of man may perish ; but these from their very nature 
 seem, as far as human foresight can go, absolutely 
 immortal. The triumphal arches of other days have 
 fallen ; the sculptured columns have crumbled into 
 dust; the temples of taste and religion have sunk 
 into decay ; the pyramids themselves seem but 
 mighty sepulchres hastening to the same oblivion, to 
 which the dead they cover have long since passed. 
 But here, every successive generation becomes a 
 living memorial of our public schools, and a living 
 example of their excellence. Never, never may 
 this glorious institution be abandoned or betrayed 
 by the weakness of its friends, or the power of its 
 adversaries. It can scarcely be abandoned or be- 
 trayed, while New-England remains free, and her 
 representatives are true to their trust. It must for 
 ever count in its defence a majority of all those, who 
 ought to influence public affairs by their virtues or 
 their talents ; for it must be, that here they first felt 
 the divinity of knowledge stir within them. What 
 consolation can be higher, what reflection prouder, 
 than the thought, that in weal and in woe our chil- 
 dren are under the public guardianship, and may 
 here gather the fruits of that learning, which ripens 
 for eternity. 
 
 There is another topic connected with the settle- 
 ment of this country, which may not be passed over 
 upon this occasion. At the very threshold of the 
 enterprise, a nice question, both in morals and public 
 law, must have presented itself to the consideration 
 of conscientious minds. How far was it lawful to
 
 68 
 
 people this western world, and deprive the Indians 
 from that exclusive sovereignty over the soil, which 
 they had exercised for ages beyond the reach of 
 human tradition 1 Men of deep reflection, and es- 
 pecially men who felt a serious religious accounta- 
 bility for their conduct, could not be presumed to 
 pass over such a subject without weighing it with 
 scrupulous delicacy. It did not escape the attention 
 of our forefathers. They met it, and discussed it 
 with a manly freedom ; they sought neither to dis- 
 guise their own opinions, nor to conceal the real 
 difficulties of the inquiry. 
 
 In ascending to the great principles, upon which 
 all human society rests, it must be admitted, that 
 there are some, which are of eternal obligation, and 
 arise from our relations to each other, and our com- 
 mon dependence upon our Creator. Among these 
 are the duty to do justice, to love mercy, and to 
 walk humbly before God. There are others again, 
 which are merely founded in general convenience, 
 and presuppose some regulations of society, or con- 
 ventional law. The rights belonging to this latter 
 class are coextensive only with the nations, which 
 recognise them ; and in a general sense cannot be 
 deemed obligatory upon the rest of the world. The 
 plain reason is, that no portion of mankind has any 
 authority delegated to it by the Creator to legislate 
 for, or bind, all the rest. The very equality of original 
 rights, which every argument presupposes, excludes 
 the notion of any authority to control those rights, 
 unless it is derived by grant or surrender, so as to 
 bind others in conscience and abstract justice.
 
 We are told in the Scriptures, that in the begin- 
 ning God gave man dominion over the earth, and 
 commanded him to replenish and subdue it ; and 
 this has been justly said to be the true and solid 
 foundation of man's dominion over it.* But this 
 principle does not lead to the conclusion, that any 
 particular person may acquire to himself a permanent 
 and exclusive interest in the soil ; much less, that 
 any single nation may appropriate to itself as much 
 of the surface as it shall choose, and thus narrow 
 down the common inheritance, and exclude all others 
 from any participation in its products for the supply of 
 their own wants. If any right can be deduced from 
 this general grant of dominion to man, it is of a far 
 more limited nature ; the right to occupy what we 
 possess during the time of possession, the right of 
 mere present enjoyment ; which seems to flow as 
 much from the consideration, that no one can show 
 a better right to displace us, as from the considera- 
 tion, that it affords the only means of any enjoyment. 
 But where shall we find, independently of maxims 
 derived from society, the right of any nation to ex- 
 clude others from cultivating the soil, which it does 
 not itself choose to cultivate, but which may be in- 
 dispensable to supply the necessities of others 1 
 Where is the principle, which withdraws from the 
 common inheritance, and gives to a few, what the 
 bounty of God has provided for all ? The truth is 
 (though it is a truth rarely brought into discus- 
 sion among civilized nations), that exclusive sove- 
 
 * 2 Bl. Com. 2.
 
 70 
 
 reignty and ownership of the soil, is a derivative 
 right, resting upon municipal regulations and the 
 public law of society, and obtaining its whole valid- 
 ity from the recognitions of the communities, which 
 it binds, and the arm of power, which encircles and 
 protects it. It is a right founded upon the soundest 
 policy, and has conduced, more than almost any 
 human achievement, to create the virtues which 
 strengthen, and the refinements which grace civil- 
 ized life. But if general consent should abolish it 
 tomorrow, it would be difficult to say, that a return 
 to the patriarchal or pastoral state of nations, and 
 the community of property, would be any departure 
 from natural right. 
 
 When this continent was first discovered, it be- 
 came an object of cupidity to the ambition of many 
 of the nations of Europe. Each eagerly sought to 
 appropriate it to itself. But it was obvious, that in the 
 mutual struggle for power, contests of the most san- 
 guinary nature would soon intervene, if some general 
 principle were not adopted by the consent of all for 
 the government of all. The most flexible and con- 
 venient principle, which occurred, was, that the first 
 discovery should confer upon the nation of the dis- 
 coverer an exclusive right to the soil, for the pur- 
 poses of sovereignty and settlement. This principle 
 was accordingly adopted, and became a -fundamental 
 doctrine in the code of legal ethics, by which the 
 European governments regulated their acquisitions. 
 No European subject was permitted to interfere 
 with it, and the possession acquired under it was 
 deemed absolute and unquestionable. In respect to
 
 71 
 
 desert places, the principle, as one of peace and 
 equality of benefits, is not perhaps obnoxious to 
 censure. But in respect to countries already inhab- 
 ited, neither its general justice, nor its conformity 
 to public law, entitles it to commendation. If, ab- 
 stractedly considered, mere discovery could confer 
 any title, the natives already possessed it by such 
 prior discovery. If this were put aside, and mere 
 possession could confer sovereignty, they had that 
 possession, and were entitled to the sovereignty. In 
 short, it is clear, that upon the principles generally 
 recognised by European nations, as between them- 
 selves, the natives could not be rightfully displaced. 
 And if they were not entitled to the benefit of those 
 principles, they might still stand upon the eternal 
 laws of natural justice, and maintain their right to 
 share in the common inheritance. Such a conclu- 
 sion could not escape the sagacity of the statesmen 
 and princes of the old world ; but it was quite too 
 refined to satisfy their ambition and lust of dominion. 
 It was easy to found an argument for the expulsion 
 of the natives upon their infidelity and barbarism, 
 which allowed them to be treated as the enemies of 
 God. It was still more plausible to hold out the 
 prospect of converting them to the Christian faith, 
 and thus to secure a new triumph to civilization and 
 the cross. If their territory was invaded, and their 
 governments were overthrown, if they were compel- 
 led to yield to the superior genius and power of 
 Europe, they would still receive an ample compen- 
 sation in their admission into the bosom of European 
 society with its privileges and improvements. Such
 
 72 
 
 were some of the suggestions, by which royal am- 
 bition sought to disguise its real objects, and to re- 
 concile to religion itself the spirit of conquest. It 
 is but justice, however, to add, that there was no 
 public avowal, that the natives possessed no right 
 whatsoever. On the contrary it was conceded, that 
 they possessed a present right of occupancy, tem- 
 porary, indeed, and limited, which might be surren- 
 dered to the discovering nation, and in the mean 
 time was entitled to respect. 
 
 Our forefathers did not attempt to justify their 
 own emigration and settlement, upon the European 
 doctrine of the right of discovery. Their patent 
 from the Crown contained a grant of this right ; but 
 they felt that there was a more general question behind. 
 * What warrant have we to take that land, which is, 
 and hath been of long time possessed by others, the 
 sons of Adam 1 ' Their answer is memorable for 
 its clearness, strength, and bold assertion of princi- 
 ples. That which is common to all (said they) is 
 proper to none. This savage people ruleth over 
 many lands without title or property. Why may not 
 Christians have liberty to go and dwell amongst 
 them in their waste lands ? God hath given to the 
 sons of men a two-fold right to the earth. There is 
 a natural right and a civil right. The first right was 
 natural, when men held the earth in common. 
 When afterwards they appropriated some parcels of 
 ground, by enclosing and peculiar manurance, this 
 in time got them a civil right. There is more than 
 enough land for us and them. God hath consumed 
 them with a miraculous plague, whereby the greater
 
 73 
 
 part of the country is left void of inhabitants. Be- 
 sides, we shall come in with the good leave of the 
 natives.* Such arguments were certainly not un- 
 worthy of men of scrupulous virtue. They were 
 aided by higher considerations, by the desire to 
 propagate Christianity among the Indians ; a desire, 
 which is breathed forth in their confidential papers, 
 in their domestic letters, in their private prayers, and 
 in their public devotions. In this object they were 
 not only sincere, but constant. So sincere and so 
 constant, that one of the grave accusations against 
 them has been, that in their religious zeal, they com- 
 pelled the Indians, by penalties, to attend public 
 worship, and allured them, by presents, to abandon 
 their infidelity, f In truth, the propagation of Chris- 
 tianity was a leading motive with many of the early 
 promoters of the settlement ; and we need no better 
 proof of it, than the establishment of an Indian school 
 at Harvard College to teach them the rudiments of 
 Christian faith. 
 
 Whatever, then, may have been the case in other 
 parts of the continent, it is a fact, and it should not 
 be forgotten, that our forefathers never attempted to 
 displace the nations by force, upon any pretence of 
 European right. They occupied and cultivated 
 what was obtained by grant, or was found vacant. 
 They constantly respected the Indians in their set- 
 tlements and claims of soil. They protected them 
 from their enemies, when they sought refuge among 
 them. They stimulated no wars for their extermi- 
 
 * 3 Hutch. Collect. 30, 31 . f 3 Hutch. Collect. 28, 32, 420, 490. 
 
 10
 
 74 
 
 nation. During the space of fifty years, but a single 
 case of serious warfare occurred ; and though we 
 cannot but lament the cruelties then perpetrated, 
 there is no pretence, that they were the aggressors 
 in the contest. Whatever complaints, therefore, may 
 be justly urged by philosophy, or humanity, or reli- 
 gion, in our day, respecting the wrongs and injuries 
 of the Indians, they scarcely touch the Pilgrims of 
 New-England. Their hands were not imbrued in 
 innocent blood. Their hearts were not heavy with 
 crimes and oppressions engendered by avarice. If 
 they were not wholly without blame, they were not 
 deep in guilt. They might mistake the time, or the 
 mode of christianizing and civilizing the Indians ; 
 but they did not seek pretences to extirpate them. 
 Private hostilities and butcheries there might be ; 
 but they were not encouraged or justified by the 
 government. It is not, then, a just reproach, some- 
 times cast on their memories, that their religion 
 narrowed down its charities to Christians only ; and 
 forgot, and despised, and oppressed these forlorn 
 children of the forest. 
 
 There is, indeed, in the fate of these unfortunate 
 beings, much to awaken our sympathy, and much to 
 disturb the sobriety of our judgment ; much which 
 may be urged to excuse their own atrocities ; much 
 in their characters, which betrays us into an invol- 
 untary admiration. What can be more melancholy 
 than their history 1 By a law of their nature, they 
 seem destined to a slow, but sure extinction. Every 
 where at the approach of the white man they fade 
 away. We hear the rustling of their footsteps, like
 
 75 
 
 that of the withered leaves of autumn, and they are 
 gone for ever. They pass mournfully by us, and they 
 return no more. Two centuries ago, the smoke of 
 their wigwams and the fires of their councils rose 
 in every valley from Hudson's Bay to the farthest 
 Florida, from the ocean to the Mississippi and the 
 lakes. The shouts of victory and the war-dance 
 rung through the mountains and the glades. The 
 thick arrows and the deadly tomahawk whistled 
 through the forests ; and the hunter's trace, and the 
 dark encampment startled the wild beasts in their 
 lairs. The warriors stood forth in their glory. The 
 young listened to the songs of other days. The 
 mothers played with their infants, and gazed on the 
 scene with warm hopes of the future. The aged sat 
 down ; but they wept not. They should soon be at 
 rest in fairer regions, where the Great Spirit dwelt, 
 in a home prepared for the brave beyond the wes- 
 tern skies. Braver men never lived ; truer men 
 never drew the bow. They had courage, and forti- 
 tude, and sagacity, and perseverance, beyond most of 
 the human race. They shrunk from no dangers, and 
 they feared no hardships. 
 
 If they had the vices of savage life, they had the 
 virtues also. They were true to their country, their 
 friends, and their homes. If they forgave not injury, 
 neither did they forget kindness. If their vengeance 
 was terrible, their fidelity and generosity were un- 
 conquerable also. Their love, like their hate, stop- 
 ped not on this side of the grave. But where are 
 they ? Where are the villages, and warriors, and 
 youth 1 The sachems and the tribes ? The hunt-
 
 76 
 
 ers and their families ? They have perished. They 
 are consumed. The wasting pestilence has not alone 
 done the mighty work. No, nor famine, nor war. 
 There has been a mightier power, a moral canker, 
 which hath eaten into their heart-cores a plague 
 which the touch of the white man communicated a 
 poison, which betrayed them into a lingering ruin. 
 The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single region, 
 which they may now call their own. Already the 
 last feeble remnants of the race are preparing for 
 their journey beyond the Mississippi. I see them 
 leave their miserable homes, the aged, the helpless, 
 the women, and the warriors, * few and faint, yet 
 fearless still.' The ashes are cold on their native 
 hearths. The smoke no longer curls round their 
 lowly cabins. They move on with a slow, unsteady 
 step. The white man is upon their heels, for terror 
 or despatch ; but they heed him not. They turn to 
 take a last look of their deserted villages. They 
 cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. 
 They shed no tears ; they utter no cries ; they heave 
 no groans. There is something in their hearts, 
 which passes speech. There is something in their 
 looks, not of vengeance or submission ; but of hard 
 necessity, which stifles both ; which choaks all utter- 
 ance ; which has no aim or method. It is courage 
 absorbed in despair. They linger but for a moment. 
 Their look is onward. They have passed the fatal 
 stream. It shall never be repassed by them, no, 
 never. Yet there lies not between us and them, an 
 impassable gulf. They know, and feel, that there 
 is for them still one remove farther, not distant, nor
 
 77 
 
 unseen. It is to the general burial-ground of their 
 race. 
 
 Reason as we may, it is impossible not to read in 
 such a fate, much, that we know not how to inter- 
 pret ; much of provocation to cruel deeds and deep 
 resentments ; much of apology for wrong and per- 
 fidy ; much of pity mingling with indignation ; much 
 of doubt and misgiving as to the past ; much of pain- 
 ful recollections ; much of dark foreboding. 
 
 Philosophy may tell us, that conquest in other 
 cases has adopted the conquered into its own bosom ; 
 and thus at no distant period given them the com- 
 mon privileges of subjects ; but that the red men 
 are incapable of such an assimilation. By their very 
 nature and character they can neither unite them- 
 selves with civil institutions, nor with safety be al- 
 lowed to remain as distinct communities. Policy 
 may suggest, that their ferocious passions, their in- 
 dependent spirit, and their wandering life disdain the 
 restraints of society ; that they will submit to su- 
 perior force only, while it chains them to the earth 
 by its pressure. A wilderness is essential to their 
 habits and pursuits. They can neither be tamed 
 nor overawed. They subsist by war or hunting; 
 and the game of the forest is relinquished only for 
 the nobler game of man. The question, therefore, 
 is necessarily reduced to the consideration, whether 
 the country itself shall be abandoned by civilized 
 man, or maintained by his sword as the right of the 
 strongest. 
 
 It may be so ; perhaps, in the wisdom of Provi- 
 dence, it must be so. I pretend not to comprehend,
 
 78 
 
 or solve, such weighty difficulties. But neither phi- 
 losophy nor policy can shut out the feelings of 
 nature. Humanity must continue to sigh at the con- 
 stant sacrifices of this bold, but wasting race. And 
 Religion, if she may not blush at the deed, must, as 
 she sees the successive victims depart, cling to the 
 altar with a drooping heart, and mourn over a des- 
 tiny without hope and without example. 
 
 Let our consolation be, that our forefathers did 
 not precipitate the evil days. Their aim was peace ; 
 their object was the propagation of Christianity. 
 
 There is one other circumstance in the history of 
 the Colony, which deserves attention, because it has 
 afforded a theme for bitter sarcasm and harsh re- 
 proach ; and as the principal scenes of the tragedy 
 took place on this very spot, this seems a fit occasion 
 to rescue the character of our forefathers from the 
 wanton attacks of the scoffer and the satirist. I al- 
 lude to the memorable trials for witchcraft in this 
 town in 1692, which terminated in the death of many 
 innocent persons, partly from blind credulity and 
 partly from overwhelming fraud. The whole of these 
 proceedings exhibit melancholy proofs of the effect 
 of superstition in darkening the mind, and steeling 
 the heart against the dictates of humanity. Indeed, 
 nothing has ever been found more vindictive and 
 cruel than fanaticism, acting under the influence of 
 preternatural terror, and assuming to punish offences 
 created by its own gloomy reveries. Under such 
 circumstances it becomes itself the very demon, 
 whose agency it seeks to destroy. It loses sight of 
 all the common principles of reason and evidence.
 
 79 
 
 It sees nothing around it but victims for sacrifice. 
 It hears nothing but the voice of its own vengeance. 
 It believes nothing but what is monstrous and in- 
 credible. It conjures up every phantom of super- 
 stition, and shapes it to the living form of its own 
 passions and frenzies. In short, insanity could hardly 
 devise more refinements in barbarity, or profligacy 
 execute them with more malignant coolness. In the 
 wretched butcheries of these times (for so they in 
 fact were), in which law and reason were equally 
 set at defiance, we have shocking instances of un- 
 natural conduct. We find parents accusing their 
 children, children their parents, and wives their hus- 
 bands, of a crime, which must bring them to the 
 scaffold. We find innocent persons, misled by the 
 hope of pardon, or wrought up to frenzy by the pre- 
 tended sufferings of others, freely accusing them- 
 selves of the same crime. We find gross perjury 
 practised to procure condemnations, sometimes for 
 self-protection, and sometimes from utter reckless- 
 ness of consequences. We find even religion itself 
 made an instrument of vengeance. We find minis- 
 ters of the gospel and judges of the land stimulating 
 the work of persecution, until at last in its progress 
 its desolations reached their own fire-sides.* 
 
 And yet, dark and sad as is this picture, it furnish- 
 es no just reproach upon this ancient town, beyond 
 what belongs to it in common with all New-England, 
 and, indeed, with all Christendom. Thirty years 
 before this period there had been executions for 
 
 * 2 Hutch. Hist. 16 to 60, &c.
 
 80 
 
 witchcraft in this and other colonies, in Charlestown, 
 Boston, Springfield, and Hartford. It has been just- 
 ly observed by an intelligent historian,* that the im- 
 portance given to the New-England trials proceeded 
 more from the general panic, than from the number 
 executed, ' more having been put to death in a single 
 county in England, in a short space of time, than 
 have suffered in all New-England from the first set- 
 tlement to the present time.' 
 
 Our forefathers were sincere believers in the reality 
 of witchcraft ; and the same opinion then prevailed 
 throughout all Europe. The possibility, nay, the ac- 
 tual existence of a commerce with evil spirits, has 
 had in its support the belief of many enlightened 
 nations of the world. Mr. Justice Blackstone has 
 not scrupled to declare, that to deny it ' is at once 
 flatly to contradict the revealed word of God in va- 
 rious passages both of the Old and New Testament.' f 
 I meddle not with this matter of controversial divinity. 
 But it is certain, that from the earliest times it has 
 been punished as a crime in all Christian countries, 
 and generally, as a mark of peculiar horror and de- 
 testation, with death. Such was its punishment in 
 England at the time of the emigration of our ances- 
 tors ; and such it continued to be until the reign of 
 George the Second. Surely, when we read of con- 
 victions before so mild and enlightened a judge, as 
 Sir Matthew Hale, it should excite no surprise, that 
 our own judges were not superior to the delusion ; 
 that they possessed not a wisdom beyond the law, 
 
 * 2 Hutch. Hist. 15, 16. f 4 BI. Com. 60 ; 3 Inst. 43.
 
 81 
 
 nor a power to resist the general credulity. My 
 Lord Coke, in the simplicity of his own belief, loads 
 witches with the most opprobrious epithets, as ' hor- 
 rible, devilish, and wicked offenders;'* and the 
 Parliament of king James the First has enumerated, 
 in studied detail, divers modes of conjuration and 
 enchantment, upon which it has inflicted the punish- 
 ment of death. f Lord Bacon has lent the credit of 
 his own great name to preserve some of the wonders 
 and ointments of witchcraft, with sundry wholesome 
 restrictions upon our belief of their efficacy. J And 
 we have high authority for saying, that ' it became a 
 science, every where much studied and cultivated, 
 to distinguish a true witch by proper trials and 
 symptoms.' 
 
 We may lament, then, the errors of the times, 
 which led to these persecutions. But surely our 
 ancestors had no special reasons for shame in a be- 
 lief, which had the universal sanction of their own 
 and all former ages ; which counted in its train phi- 
 losophers, as well as enthusiasts ; which was graced 
 by the learning of prelates, as well as the counte- 
 nance of kings ; which the law supported by its 
 mandates, and the purest judges felt no compunc- 
 tions in enforcing. Let Witch Hill remain for ever 
 memorable by this sad catastrophe, not to perpetuate 
 our dishonor, but as an affecting, enduring proof of 
 human infirmity ; a proof, that perfect justice belongs 
 to one Judgment-seat only, that which is linked to 
 the Throne of God. 
 
 * 3 Inst. 44. t Ibid. 4-1, 45. J 2 Bacon's Works, 27, 45, 69, 
 
 7 Hume's Hist. 186. 
 
 11
 
 82 
 
 Time would fail me to go at large into the history 
 of New-England, and my own strength, as well as 
 your patience, is far spent. Yet it should not be 
 concealed, that we have a proud consciousness of 
 the spirit and principles of our fathers throughout 
 every period of their colonial existence. At no time 
 were they the advocates of passive obedience and 
 non-resistance to rulers at home or abroad. At all 
 times they insisted, that the right of taxation and 
 the right of representation were inseparable in a 
 free government ; and that on that account the power 
 of taxation was vested exclusively in their own co- 
 lonial legislature. At all times they connected them- 
 selves, with a generous fidelity, to the fortunes of the 
 mother country, and shared the common burthens, 
 and bore the common hardships with cheerfulness. 
 The sons of New-England were found in her ranks 
 in battle, foremost in danger ; but, as is not unusual 
 in colonial service, latest in the rewards of vic- 
 tory. An ante-revolutionary historian of unquestion- 
 able accuracy has said, that ' in the course of sixty 
 years the Province of Massachusetts hath been at a 
 greater expense, and hath lost more of its inhabitants, 
 than all the other colonies upon the continent taken 
 together.' In the Indian wars, in the successive 
 attacks upon the French colonies, and in the capture 
 of Quebec and the Canadas, they bore an honorable 
 and important part. Even when their first charter 
 was vacated, their resistance to the arbitrary measures 
 of Sir Edmund Andros was but a prelude to the 
 principles and practice of the Revolution.
 
 83 
 
 Of the memorable events of a later period ; of the 
 resistance to British oppression ; of the glorious war 
 of Independence ; of the subsequent establishment 
 of the national government, I need not speak. They 
 are familiar to all of us ; but though repeated for the 
 thousandth time, they still possess an animating fresh- 
 ness. In the struggle for independence, in which 
 all the colonies embarked in a common cause, and 
 all exhibited examples of heroism and public spirit, 
 in which all seemed to forget themselves and remem- 
 ber only their country, it would be invidious to draw 
 comparisons of relative merit, since the true glory 
 of each is in the aggregate achievements of all. 
 Throughout the contest, the citizens of various states 
 fought side by side, and shared the common toils. 
 Their sufferings and their fame were blended at 
 every step, in the hour of peril, and in the hour of 
 triumph. Let not those be separated in death, who 
 in life were not divided. 
 
 But I may say, that New-England was not behind 
 the other states in zeal, in public sacrifices, in con- 
 tributions of men and money, in firmness of resolve, 
 or in promptitude of action. The blood of her chil- 
 dren was freely poured not only on her own soil, 
 but in every field, where armies met in hostile array. 
 It flowed not on the land alone ; the ocean received 
 it into its swelling bosom. Wherever the battle raged, 
 they were found ; and many a gallant spirit breathed 
 his last breath on the deck, with his thoughts still 
 warm with the love of his native New-England. 
 Let a single fact concerning Massachusetts suffice to 
 establish no mean claim to respect. Upon the final
 
 84 
 
 adjustment of the accounts of the revolutionary war, 
 although her own soil had been but for a short period 
 occupied by the enemy, she had expended eighteen 
 millions of dollars, and the balance then due to her 
 exceeded one million. One state only in the Union 
 surpassed her in expenditures, and none in the bal- 
 ance in her favor.* But this would give a very 
 inadequate view of her real efforts. Her voluntary 
 bounties upon enlistments, her town and county con- 
 tributions, are almost incredible, when we consider 
 the general poverty and distress* But I forbear. 
 Much might be urged in her favor, much in favor of 
 her New-England sisters, which has been sometimes 
 remembered, only to be forgotten. Much might be 
 said of the long array of statesmen and divines and 
 lawyers and physicians, of the literature and science, 
 which have adorned our annals. Let it pass let it 
 pass. Their works shall praise them. They cannot 
 be concealed, whenever the deeds of our country 
 are recited. The writer of the declaration of Inde- 
 pendence is not ours ; but the author of the act it- 
 self reposes among us. He, who was * first in war, 
 first in peace, and first in the hearts of his country- 
 men/ sleeps in his native soil by the side of the beau- 
 tiful Potomac. But the Colony of Roger Williams, of 
 narrow territory, but of ample enterprise, may boast 
 of one, second in excellence only to Washington. 
 
 But while we review our past history, and recollect 
 what we have been, and are, the duties of this day 
 Were but ill performed, if we stopped here ; if turning 
 
 * 2 Pitkin's Hist, of United States, p. 538.
 
 85 
 
 from the past, and entering on the third century of our 
 political existence", we gave no heed to the voice of 
 experience, and dwelt not with thoughts of earnest, 
 busy solicitude upon the future. What is to be the 
 destiny of this Republic ? In proposing this question, 
 I drop all thought of New-England. She has bound 
 herself to the fate of the Union. May she be true 
 to it, now, and for ever ; true to it, because true to 
 herself, true to her own principles, true to the cause 
 of religion and liberty throughout the world. I speak 
 then of our common country, of that blessed mother, 
 that has nursed us in her lap, and led us up to man- 
 hood. What is her destiny? Whither does the 
 finger of fate point? Is the career, on which we 
 have entered to be bright with ages of onward and 
 upward glory 1 Or is our doom already recorded in 
 the past history of the earth, in the past lessons of 
 the decline and fall of other republics 1 If we are to 
 flourish with a vigorous growth, it must be (I think) 
 by cherishing principles, institutions, pursuits, and 
 morals, such as planted, and have hitherto support- 
 ed New-England. If we are to fall, may she still 
 possess the melancholy consolation of the Trojan 
 patriot ; 
 
 ' Sat patriae Piiaraoque datura ; si Pergama dextra 
 Defendi possent, etiam hac defenaa fuissent.' 
 
 I would not willingly cloud the pleasures of such 
 a day, even with a transient shade. I would not, 
 that a single care should flit across the polished 
 brow of hope, if considerations of the highest mo- 
 ment did not demand our thoughts, and give us 
 counsel of our duties. Who, indeed, can look around
 
 86 
 
 him upon the attractions of this scene, upon the faces 
 of the happy and the free, the smiles of youthful 
 beauty, the graces of matron virtue, the strong intellect 
 of manhood, and the dignity of age, and hail these as 
 the accompaniments of peace and independence ; 
 who can look around him and not at the same time 
 feel, that change is written on all the works of man ; 
 that the breath of a tyrant, or the fury of a corrupt 
 populace, may destroy in one hour, what centuries 
 have slowly consolidated. It is the privilege of great 
 minds, that to them ' coming events cast their shad- 
 ows before.' We may not possess this privilege ; 
 but it is true wisdom, not to blind ourselves to dan- 
 gers, which are in full view ; and true prudence, to 
 guard against those, of which experience has already 
 admonished us. 
 
 When we reflect on what has been, and is, how is 
 it possible not to feel a profound sense of the re- 
 sponsibleness of this Republic to all future ages. 
 What vast motives press upon us for lofty efforts. 
 What brilliant prospects invite our enthusiam. What 
 solemn warnings at once demand our vigilance, and 
 moderate our confidence. 
 
 The old world has already revealed to us in its 
 unsealed books the beginning and end of all its own 
 marvellous struggles in the cause of liberty. Greece, 
 lovely Greece, * the land of scholars and the nurse 
 of arms,' where sister republics in fair processions 
 chanted the praises of liberty and the gods ; where, 
 and what is she 1 For two thousand years the op- 
 pressor has bound her to the earth. Her arts are 
 no more. The last sad relics of her temples are but
 
 87 
 
 the barracks of a ruthless soldiery ; the fragments of 
 her columns and her palaces are in the dust, yet 
 beautiful in ruin. She fell not, when the mighty 
 were upon her. Her sons were united at Ther- 
 mopylae and Marathon ; and the tide of her triumph 
 rolled back upon the Hellespont. She was conquer- 
 ed by her own factions. She fell by the hands of 
 her own people. The Man of Macedonia did not 
 the work of destruction. It was already done by 
 her own corruptions, banishments, and dissensions. 
 Rome, republican Rome, whose eagles glanced in 
 the rising and setting sun, where, and what is she 1 
 The eternal city yet remains, proud even in her 
 desolation, noble in her decline, venerable in the 
 majesty of religion, and calm as in the composure of 
 death. The malaria has but travelled in the paths 
 worn by her destroyers. More than eighteen cen- 
 turies have mourned over the loss of her empire. 
 A mortal disease was upon her vitals before Caesar 
 had crossed the Rubicon ; and Brutus did not restore 
 her health by the deep probings of the senate cham- 
 ber. The Goths and Vandals and Huns, the swarms 
 of the North, completed only what was already 
 begun at home. Romans betrayed Rome. The 
 legions were bought and sold ; but the people offer- 
 ed the tribute money. 
 
 And where are the republics of modern times, 
 which clustered round immortal Italy 1 Venice and 
 Genoa exist but in name. The Alps, indeed, look 
 down upon the brave and peaceful Swiss in their 
 native fastnesses ; but the guaranty of their freedom 
 is in their weakness, and not in their strength. The
 
 88 
 
 mountains are not easily crossed, and the vallies are 
 not easily retained. When the invader comes, he 
 moves like an avalanche, carrying destruction in his 
 path. The peasantry sinks before him. The coun- 
 try is too poor for plunder ; and too rough for valua- 
 ble conquest. Nature presents her eternal barriers 
 on every side to check the wantonness of ambition ; 
 and Switzerland remains with her simple institutions, 
 a military road to fairer climates, scarcely worth a 
 permanent possession, and protected by the jealousy 
 of her neighbours. 
 
 We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably the 
 last experiment of self-government by the people. 
 We have begun it under circumstances of the most 
 auspicious nature. We are in the vigor of youth. 
 Our growth has never been checked by the oppres- 
 sions of tyranny. Our constitutions have never been 
 enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the old world. 
 Such as we are, we have been from the beginning ; 
 simple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to self-govern- 
 ment and self-respect. The Atlantic rolls between 
 us and any formidable foe. Within our own terri- 
 tory, stretching through many degrees of latitude 
 and longitude, we have the choice of many products, 
 and many means of independence. The government 
 is mild. The press is free. Religion is free. Know- 
 ledge reaches, or may reach, every home. What 
 fairer prospect of success could be presented ? 
 What means more adequate to accomplish the sub- 
 lime end? What more is necessary, than for the 
 people to preserve what they themselves have cre- 
 ated?
 
 89 
 
 Already has the age caught the spirit of our insti- 
 tutions. It has already ascended the Andes, and 
 snuffed the breezes of both oceans. It has infused 
 itself into the life-blood of Europe, and warmed the 
 sunny plains of France, and the low lands of Hol- 
 land. It has touched the philosophy of Germany 
 and the North, and, moving onward to the South, 
 has opened to Greece the lessons of her better 
 days. 
 
 Can it be, that America under such circumstances 
 can betray herself? That she is to be added to the 
 catalogue of republics, the inscription upon whose 
 ruins is, * They were, but they are not.' Forbid it, 
 my countrymen ; forbid it, Heaven. 
 
 I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your 
 ancestors, by the dear ashes which repose in this 
 precious soil, by all you are, and all you hope to be ; 
 resist every project of disunion, resist every en- 
 croachment upon your liberties, resist every attempt 
 to fetter your consciences, or smother your public 
 schools, or extinguish your system of public instruc- 
 tion. 
 
 I call upon you, mothers, by that which never 
 fails in woman, the love of your offspring; teach them, 
 as they climb your knees, or learn on your bosoms, 
 the blessings of liberty. Swear them at the altar, as 
 with their baptismal vows, to be true to their coun- 
 try, and never to forget or forsake her. 
 
 I call upon you, young men, to remember whose 
 
 sons you are ; whose inheritance you possess. Life 
 
 can never be too short, which brings nothing but 
 
 disgrace and oppression. Death never comes too 
 
 12
 
 90 
 
 soon, if necessary in defence of the liberties of your 
 country. 
 
 I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and 
 your prayers, and your benedictions. May not your 
 grey hairs go down in sorrow to the grave with the 
 recollection, that you have lived in vain. May not 
 your last sun sink in the west upon a nation of 
 slaves. 
 
 No I read in the destiny of my country far bet- 
 ter hopes, far brighter visions. We, who are now 
 assembled here, must soon be gathered to the con- 
 gregation of other days. The time of our departure 
 is at hand, to make way for our children upon the 
 theatre of life. May God speed them and theirs. 
 May he, who at the distance of another century 
 shall stand here to celebrate this day, still look round 
 upon a free, happy, and virtuous people. May he 
 have reason to exult as we do. May he, with all the 
 enthusiasm of truth as well as of poetry, exclaim, 
 that here is still his country, 
 
 ' Zealous, yet modest ; innocent, though free ; 
 Patient of toil ; serene amidst alarms ; 
 Inflexible in faith ; invincible in arms.' 
 
 10 54 D
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 WV2 T l i ti k Is DUE n the last date stamped below 
 
 EC 
 
 MAIN L 
 
 A.M. 
 
 REC'DRCO 
 
 JUN 2 
 MAY 15 
 
 DEC 
 
 ita 
 
 Form L-8 
 20m-l,'(8C19) 
 
 DEC 1 5 196 
 
 O*3J 
 -J 
 
 TV ED" 
 
 AN DESK 
 
 965 
 
 966 
 
 r.M.